#my favorite bozos go for a drink

[tubesock86]

night on the town

[lovebugism]

omggg im craving a halloween themed , rockstar!eddie x shy!reader at a halloween party , matching costumes and everything & he sees a ton of guys hitting on her & is like ???? my baby?

here you go lovie! hope you like it! — eddie takes his girl to a bar on halloween and gets jealous when guys hit on you like you're not already his (shy!reader, rockstar!eddie, established relationship, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The world didn’t know you before today.

You’ve been just Eddie Spaghetti’s girlfriend for so long — but now you’re Eddie Munson, up-and-coming rockstar and lead of Corroded Coffin’s girlfriend. The title carries a certain weight with it. You wear it with pride, but it weighs you down just the same. 

What’s weird about tonight, though, is you’re not sharing Eddie with the rest of the world like you thought you would. He’s having to share you, because everyone and their goddamn brother’s been all over you all night. 

Apparently, your coquettish rendition of The Bride of Frankenstein is making everyone else as crazy as it’s making him.

“God, go save your girlfriend, Munson,” Gareth jokes across the booth, laughing into his drink as he watches yet another guy stop you at the bar. “At least one of these assholes is gonna steal her from you.”

“She’s not property, dude. She can’t get stolen,” Jeff scolds from beside him, then flashes Eddie a sheepish glance. “But, yeah, the odds aren’t in your favor, Eds.”

Eddie pays no mind to his friends’ teasing — or the anger swirling like fire in the pit of his stomach. 

“Nah. She’s alright…” he mumbles into the rim of his glass. The whiskey burns his throat going down. It doesn’t match the flame rising in his chest at the sight of his precious girl talking to some douchebag dressed like Elvis Presley.

He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t think you weren’t a hundred percent fine. These bozos aren’t trying anything with you — hell, they can barely make conversation with you. You’re just entertaining it because you’re the sweetest thing on the earth.

It’s laughable more than anything.

He’s humored by it all. Not jealous. Definitely not jealous.

“Yeah, who’s the famous one here, again?” Jeff’s girlfriend jokes. She’d left to go to the bathroom with you but came back alone when you got stuck with dollar-store Elvis. She points to the rest of them with a long, manicured finger. “It’s you guys, right? Because I can’t really tell.”

“Fuck off…” Eddie grouses, forcing a grin while the rest of them laugh.

You return then, with a drink in hand and a frown on your face at the sight of your suddenly grumpy boyfriend. “You okay?” you wonder quietly, smoothing down your skirt when you slide into the booth.

The boy moves over to make room for you. “‘M fine,” he answers with a mumble that makes you assume otherwise. 

You reach a hand to his face, smoothing fluffy curls behind his ear. His cheek is warm against your palm. His faded seafoam Frankenstein paint job smears on your wrist.

“‘M sorry for taking so long. Some guy stopped me on the way over. I didn’t wanna be rude.”

Eddie shakes his head. Not a single part of him blamed you.

“It’s okay, babe. Not your fault.” 

He’s full-on beaming now. Just because you called that asshole “some guy.” It feels good to hear you say that, to know that that’s all he is to you — just some fuckin’ guy. You won’t remember him later, if you still do even now.

Honestly, you’ll be lucky to remember your own name at the end of tonight.

“He get that drink for you?” Eddie asks, nodding to the frosted glass in your fist.

You shrug. “Yeah. He bought it, but I watched the bartender make it, so it’s fine.”

He nods, proud and sparkling with it. “Good.”

“What is it?” Gareth wonders, squinting across the table.

“An Old-Fashioned.”

“You hate whiskey,” Eddie laughs, licking the alcohol from the plush of his bottom lip.

“Well, yeah, but he asked what I liked, and I didn’t know what to say, so I just told him your favorite drink,” you ramble, all mousy, as you drag the falling sleeve of your corset back up your shoulder. 

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention.

Eddie’s grinning something fierce beside you. His chest swells with so much pride he thinks he might burst.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest fuckin’ thing?” he singsongs with a rosy grin, wrapping the ripped sleeve of his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. 

Then he kisses you. Like, really kisses you. 

It’s deep and intimate and sloppy. He opens your mouth with his and slithers his tongue inside. He tastes like bitter-sweet alcohol. You get drunk on him accordingly. 

The rest of the table gags.

Your lips click audibly when Eddie pulls away. His smile glistens with a mixture of your saliva, lips a deeper shade of pink and slightly swollen. You wipe your chin with the back of your mouth — some of Eddie’s face paint comes with it.

“Where’s he now?” the boy asks with a mischievous squint in his deep chocolate eyes.

You shrug, totally uncaring and just wanting to be kissed. “I dunno.”

“Still at the bar,” Gareth answers for you, snickering to himself. “Giving your girl the sex eyes.”

Your face screws up in disgust. “Sex eyes?” you repeat, nose scrunched.

The group laughs.

“Think you can get him to buy you a round? You know, for the table?” Eddie asks you. His fingers trace shapes on your bare shoulder. You have to fight back a shiver.

“You want me to go talk to him?” you gape, like you must’ve heard him wrong.

“I want you to go get us drinks, sweet thing. Work your magic, you know?”

He’s not in the most right headspace right now. You know this. He’s still high on the post-show adrenaline and mellow on the alcohol.  He’s jealous and in love with you and aflame with hatred for bootleg Elvis Presley. He gets rash when he’s raging, risky and unpredictable — a deadly concoction.

“Eds…” you hum quietly, brows scrunched like the idea pains you. “I don’t wanna make you mad…”

“You won’t make me mad, sweet thing,” Eddie assures, squeezing your shoulder. He presses a sanguine peck to your waiting mouth, then his voice gets all low. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll reward you after.”

He smacks one last kiss to your buzzing lips.

You blink at him until your senses return to you. You slide out from the booth and saunter back to Some Guy, who’s seemingly been waiting on your return this whole time. 

There’s a sudden sway to your hips now, but it’s not for him. 

It’s for Eddie.

The boy with the wild hair back at the booth, missing splotches of his face paint and wearing your lipstick knows this too.

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

I can’t stop thinking of demon! Adam going through development and reaching the point of like,, doing something nice without anyone telling him to do it, purely for the sake of doing it. Something he never would have done before. Even if it’s something as small as sitting down with you while you’re watching your favorite movie or show and not shitting on it the whole time, just to keep you company. Or something like that. I dunno. I’m just a sucker for slow burn subtextual romance.

THAT, and the reader seeing his face beneath the mask, looking him the eyes, and smiling a little. Even if they say nothing. I feel like that would stick with him.

Exactly. Demon!Adam lives in my head rent free now. I know this weren't a request of sorts but I kinda wrote something for this

random ficlet below

Demon!Adam x GN!reader (Fluff)

DemonSinner!Adam is something that plays on my mind a lot. He still doesn’t believe in the whole redemption shit that Charlie is laying down but if it gets him a glimpse of seeing heaven again he is willing to try.

-----

Adam was bored and needed something to do that would put off the inevitable “therapy” session with Lucifer’s brat later. So that must be why he finds himself outside your room. He knocks lightly on your door. You didn’t answer, he knocked again louder this time. Still no answer. So he opens the door and peers in.

“Hey errr (Y/n) Charlie asked me to check on you.” A blatant lie but he won’t tell you that.

He sees you’re watching TV.

“Huh? What no shitty nickname this time?” You mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn. Adam walks over and flops down on the couch next to you.

“Oh yeah, nah I didn’t really feel like it.” He grabs a handful of your popcorn.

You quirk a brow.

“Also Charlie said nooo giving nicknames to people that demean them and also who don’t want it and people were given names to be used blah blah blah.” He shoves the popcorn into his mouth. “So what are we watchin?”

“I'm watching a movie I really like so if you're staying either shut up or fuck off.” You sink back into your blanket cocoon.

*10 minutes later*

“What the fuck! This guy clearly likes her but she goes for the other bozo. Is she blind . . . . as well as ya know hot.”

You choke on your drink. You didn’t think that this would be his kinda thing but here he was emotionally invested in the film you had picked. You had really wanted to just wallow in your depression by binge watching trashy romcoms but what was really making you feel better was watching the ‘dickmaster’ himself rooting for the underdog to open up about his feelings to the lead woman.

You go to grab some popcorn but see the bowl is empty.

“Gotta pause.” You go to stand but he stops you.

“I got this.” He hides the good deed by quickly saying “And I need to piss anyway.” You pass him the bowl.

“Not in the popcorn I hope.” You rearrange yourself back in your blanket burrito.

“HAA, You nasty but don’t watch without me. Coz that is a dick move.”

“You know all about those.” You mutter into the blanket. But Adam had gone to the hotel kitchen to make popcorn.

You chose to scroll on your phone until he got back. There were a few messages but you didn’t really feel like answering them. You flop on your side. You can always move when he came back.

While you waited in silence for Adam. You think back on how he really was getting better. After seeing him slowly open up to Charlie’s ideas and seeing that he can be a good guy when it suits him. You smile to yourself.

Your door slams open.

“Okay I’m back bitch.”

Nevermind looks like he has thrown up his walls again.

He lays out the armful of snacks and the bowl of popcorn that looks way bigger than the bowl he left with. He sees you on your side.

“You comfy down there?”

You groan and slowly sit up again. He sits back down but wraps an arm around you and hugs you into his side and nothing more.

“Okay we can continue now.” He grabs the popcorn and rests it on his lap.

You set the movie going again and snuggle just a little bit closer. For popcorn reasons of course not that Adam was nice and warm and you felt safe next to him.

“Clearly she don’t know a good thing when she sees it.” You pipe up after about three minutes into the film again. You had seen this film so many times but there was one scene that always brought out annoyance in you.

“Right!! She needs to open her eyes this guy clearly loves her for who they are and not some fake ass bs that other . . . what?” Adam stops mid-sentence looking down at you resting against his chest.

You blink a few times before realising you are staring “Huh oh nothing.”

You focus back on the screen in front of you.

The climatic end of the film was approaching and the main lead were confessing their love and as the credits role you can here someone crying. You glance up and see Adam wiping away tears.

“You okay.” You sit up and reach for the tissues on the table to hand them to him.

“What!!! I’m fine. Of course I’m fiiiine. Shut up bitch.” He grabs the tissue box from you.

“If it helps I cried the first time I watched this movie.” You wrap the blankets tighter around yourself.

“I . . . ah . . shit.” He saw you curling further in on yourself. He feels guilt crawling into his stomach. “Sorry, I’m . . .Ugh. Look I’m bad at these feel your feelings crap that Charlie spouts. But it was a good film and yeah I cried but . . .”

“It don’t make you any less of a man.”

“Yeeeah I know. Of course I know. I’m the first man.”

“Huh back to that are we.” You bump shoulders with him, making him laugh.

He pulls you back into his side “So what are we watching now?”

------

I really didn't mean for this to be as long as it was. I'm sorry

[princessconsuela120]

☾ Padfoot vs Prongs ☾

— ☾

Summary: A pregnancy in 7th year isn't exactly ideal...neither is your best friend and brothers annoying antics.

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff

Author's Note: just a shorty drabble i had sitting in my drafts. ill be posting requests soon!

— ☾

“Whisky!” James shouted, barreling into the room with Sirius a close foot behind. You rolled your eyes at the nickname, looking up from the book that had been occupying you for the past half hour. Ever since the boys had discovered your animagus was a cat, your brother James had deemed you the nickname Whiskers. Ironic that Fire Whisky had also been your favorite and dearly missed drink since the start of your pregnancy.

“Can I help you bozos?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at the two boys who had wide smiles adorning their faces.

“Who has better hair, me or Padfoot.” James asked, causing you to roll your eyes.

“I’m not doing this you guys.” You replied quickly, shifting in your spot as the boys appeared from behind the couch.

“Come on just tell us.” James asked, stomping his foot slightly like a child.

“I said I’m not doing this, where’s Moony he needs to help me up.” You grumbled, still trying to get up from your spot and failing.

“He’s out.” Sirius said, a smirk on his face as you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“And you can’t get up and walk away without our help so, answer the question.” James teased, making you groan even louder, throwing your head back with frustration.

“I hate you both.” You hissed, making James hold his Chet with fake hurt as Sirius smirked.

“We love you too. But that wasn’t the question.” Sirius said, causing you to hold your hands out with anger,

“Please just help me up.” You mumbled, struggling to stand with your large bump in the way.

“No.” 

“Oh come on.” You whined, flailing around slightly with frustration.

“Not until you answer us.”

“I am not answering you, this is ridiculous!” You shouted, letting your head fall back angrily, as the door gently swung open, catching everyone’s attention. Your face couldn’t help but light up with a smile when your boyfriend, Remus, appeared at the doorway, his hands full of bags from Hogsmead.

“Okay, I’ve brought you the new chocolates from Hogsmeade. Not only are they delicious but Honeydukes swears by it’s healing power.” He explained, walking over to hand you a box.

“Remus, thank god, come help me up.” You said eagerly, before Remus shook his head.

“Nope.” He said quickly, sitting beside you. You stared at him for a moment in shock.

“What?” “Ha!”

You and the boys yelled in unison, causing Remus to sigh.

“Sorry love, but you’re on bed rest. Can’t risk hurting you or our little moon.” Remus explained, rubbing your bump gently with a kind smile on his face. You couldn’t even be mad at the sweetness of it.

“This is a travesty.” You sighed, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Perfect, now you can’t move, and you need to answer our question.” Sirius teased, causing Remus to perk up slightly with interest.

“What’s the question?” He asked, making James smile proudly.

“Which one of us has the better hair, me or Padfoot?” He asked.

Remus turned to face you, a nervous look on his face as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright come on, to the common room we go.” Remus said, helping you get up as you cheered to yourself.

“Hey!”

“She just didn’t wanna hurt your feelings cause you’re her best friend.” James said angrily, shaking his head as Sirius shoved him.

“You’re her brother! She’d wanna protect your feelings more!” He argued, before you appeared quickly in the doorway.

“For the record, the answer was Padfoot.” You said quickly, before gesturing to Remus to hurry up and help you out the room.

“Hey!” James shouted, about to come run after you before he noticed you had taken his invisibility cloak from his desk.

“Yes!” Sirius cheered, looking at himself in your mirror proudly, shaping his face, and his ego.

[beanghostprincess]

Ya know there is so much in the Fandom and yet I have noticed a distinct lack of Buggy and Sanji content.

Not in a shipping way either but like. Buggy, the Flashiest Pirate In The East, would ABSOLUTELY go to the Baratie if only for the renown it has for its food. Also I bet he knew - or knew OF Zeff at the very least - when he was still a pirate. Buggy visiting the Baratie occasionally, sometimes in Normal Flashy Fashion, sometimes more toned down because he just needs a bit of a break. Zeff would absolutely take one look at this traumatized little hobgoblin of a pirate and go "oh wow. Someone get this bitch a meal. Bitches love meals"

Sanji, a wee tyke learning the ways of the kitchen, sees this absolute bozo who he, at first, assumes to be a second rate pirate. Zeff is better. Zeff tells all these stories about the Old Ways, the Pirate's Code, and Sanji thinks "this clown doesn't know the meaning of a code"

Then smth happens to completely change his tune. Maybe Buggy says or does something. Maybe Sanji overhears or sees smth. Maybe someone else kicks a fuss, and Buggy responds in the Right Ways. Who knows?

But Sanji is now intrigued. And Sanji is a kid, with lots of trauma sure, but a kid nonetheless. And Buggy Notices.

He gets forcibly assimilated into Sanji's found family. He never agreed to this. He never had a choice.

Sanji grows up with Zeff and uncle Buggy. He happens to leave with the Strawhats at the perfect time to do so - and he keeps avoiding Buggy via near misses, to the point Bugs is SEETHING playfully. How dare. Truly. All of his nephews are EVIL.

It comes to a head when, years later, with Emperors crowned, there is a series of wacky shenanigans which lead to Cross Guild and the Strawhats meeting face to face.

Sanji is flabbergasted by the realization that he now has step-uncles, one of which is the mosshead's mentor/father-figure. The other is the brutal ex dictator of Alabasta who later passed the captain's vibe check and might just be said captain's other father, there is no confirmation.

Buggy meanwhile is having twelve different attacks of a variety of nature bc he's due for his yearly fight to the death with his one nephew, and the other is here and within throttling range and - IS THAT A HICKEY!?!?!

Cue veeeerry awkward Meet The Family where Buggy and Usopp actually get along well while Sanji is debating his chances of kicking these men's asses and if it would dishonor Zoro's dreams if he threatened mihawk....

Both conversations boil down to "he's been through a lot, so be good to him or you'll be hearing from me, okay? Okay. Good."

Usopp actually is chill with this both bc "I would never" and also "even if he came for me, I could kick a clown's ass probably. If nit me, then Luffy. And if Luffy doesn't, then I will deserve it."

Crocodile and Mihawk are mildly amused but also curious - the clown? Having trauma? As if. They think of it initially as smth of a comparison. Severity of trauma is the highest rank. They think of Buggy's past as "his captain died, he broke up with his best friend, the end". They do not know of the interim details. The reasons that Shank and he both refuse to allow anyone below 14 at the bare minimum onto their crews. The reason Buggy was frothing when Shanks told him about Uta - after the fact. The reason Buggy only drinks certain brands of rum because some make him physically sick. The reason he can't sleep in pitch black darkness. The reason he sometimes simply Can't Sleep At All.

There's more to it, to everything, to all of it, than any one person knows.

Just. Back on topic but Buggy and Sanji. I just think they'd have the neatest dynamic.

You just chose two of my favorite characters and did THIS and I love it 😭 The funny thing is that it does make sense that Buggy had gone to the Baratie and met Sanji at some point... I've always thought mostly on Usopp/Buggy parallelisms but Sanji kind of relating to Buggy too because of feeling inferior to his family,,,, Besides I think the dynamic would be hilarious because okay, they get along, but I can imagine them growing closer and caring about each other but arguing all the time Sanji/Zeff style? So at first, everybody thinks he has something against Buggy because when they meet they won't stop yelling at each other but when they ask them about it, Sanji is like "??? Nah, he's something like my uncle don't- Don't think too hard about it". And I am also SO sure Sanji would know stuff about Shanks that Luffy doesn't because Buggy explained Sanji their childhoods,,, Going insane about this one, actually.

[madhattersez]

Retro Junk Haul

A few months back, I went on a journey to Kansas, which is -the- state to go to for antique shops that have good shit that has not been picked by a bunch of flippers... all for for ridiculously low prices.

So, what did I grab, my lovelies? THESE!

We'll start with a couple Star Trek figures that are awesome. First of all, you GOTTA have a LeVar Burton around. Also, a Ferengi, which I haven't really ever seen out in the wild before.

There's a real big Skulkor action figure that still spins like crazy, and a very thigh-gappy Jocasta.

The real cool one here is this super rare Crypt Keeper, though! I found him buried under bucket full of Barbies. Always dig in a bucket of Barbies.

I have been looking everywhere for these three exact Frightning Lightnings for years, especially the proper black version of Elvira's Macabre Mobile! YES. Also grabbed the Ecto 1A from Ghostbusters II and Stephen King's Christine.

There's a Space Channel 5 Hot Wheels car here, which I never knew existed, and a random A-10 plane, which is my second favorite plane. (B-17 first and always!)

There's more after the jump!

A dope Sailor Moon VHS with a sparkly, shiny Sailor Jupiter cover.

A shitty Shrek 2 puzzle. An original A&W frosty mug like I used to drink out of as a kid at Nu Way Café in Wichita, Kansas.

And a... suspiciously licensed Star Trek card game I have yet to play.

More Happy Meal toys for the collection!

I finally cracked and bought some of these Astroniks, which I hadn't started collecting yet because, like Mac Tonight, they are hard to get for a cheap price. I spent $15 on all of these in a single bag, though, so I almost have them all now!

A couple Roger Rabbit Disneyland viewers, a Fraggle Rock... cucumbermobile? And a Hamburglar I did not have yet.

Comics! Radio Shack TRS-80 Whiz Kids books are hard to come by.

Some various Archie pals, and other random thangs.

The sealed, vintage Bozo the Clown party game was a ridiculous $3.

And magazines. I'm a sucker for 'em.

G.I. Joe and Wizard. Hell yes. So much material in here to clip for future collages!

Story books - These Masters of the Universe covers go HARD!

Also, a Power Rangers book for 50 cents. Can't turn that down.

...

Now, the final amazing find... Something I have been wanting for years and years and years. Decades, even!

ARE YOU READY FOR THIS SHIT?!

Finally! My very own Nintendo R.O.B. in fantastic condition!

I need to grab a few more parts (probably from the Japanese version to save money) before I test him out to see if he works, but I don't even care if he does - I will display him and love him and scratch his head and give him little smooches forever and ever.

[willowser]

☕️ - for the selfship ask game!

how do you comfort each other on a bad day ?

kirishima probably babies me LMAOOO but he just wants me to feel better 🥺 i attach to his back like a monkey and he carries me with him everywhere 🥺 and then he probably takes a bath with me and we drink hot chocolate 😌✨️ aww he probably does fun stuff with me too, though, like gets out my face mask and does it with me and then we take funny photos in the mirror 🥺🥺🥺 and he's a really good listener 🥺🥺 we watch my favorite movies 🥺 we quote lotr the whole time we watch it 🥺

bad days with kiri are probably really hard actually, because i think he doesn't want to burden me with his issues ??? and so something is clearly upsetting him, but he's trying to put on a brave face 🥺 and even when i can tell something is wrong, he still doesn't tell me when i ask 🥺 and i tell him, like, we're a team !! we're a partnership !! i want to help you !! but he just smiles at me and says, "you do help me :')" and then i'm all LISTEN HERE BOZO—

no, i don't say that LOL i think he has to feel worse in order to feel better, actually. like he's got to let go. and so i spend a lot of time being huggy and telling him how proud i am of him 🥺 how good of a man he is 🥺 how lucky i am to have him 🥺 and then he probably cries LOL but then he feels lighter afterwards, finally 😌😌🍓✨️ POOR THING !!!

💗 self-ship game 🪻

[tombeane-blog]

Changing The World - One Cucumber At A Time

"But what I do prefer,

Is a little bit of cu-cum-cu-cum-cu-cum,

Little bit of cucumber."

Harry Champion - "A little bit of Cucumber"

I never liked cucumbers.  Didn't hate them.  At least I didn't hate them with all my heart and soul.   If I saw them in my salad I wouldn't pick them out.  I would just pour a little extra dressing on them. But if I ate all of my salad and there were a couple left all alone on the bottom of the bowl, I would absolutely donate them to the landfill.

I go to the gym at 4:30 in the morning.  Meeting me at the front desk are the night crew.  I'll call them Bob and Bobbie.  I'm usually heading home about 6:00 just as they are ending their work day.  We usually chat for 5 or 10 minutes. 

A few months ago as we passed the time chatting about World Affairs, the latest advances in Nuclear Physics and exchanging favorite flavors of Gatorade, Bob recommended I try the new Lime Cucumber flavor.  I told him I had a lifelong love of Cucumbers similar to my life long love of Covid infected garden slugs.  He said, "Yeah me too, but these are pretty good.  And folks seem to like them.".  Being weak kneed against peer pressure I told him to put one my tab but warned,  "I'll try one but don't expect me to like it."

I got hooked.  I feel terrible admitting it, but I loved them from the first sip.  I became an addict.  

Just like the old kids song...

"Tom and LC,

sittin' in a tree,

S  I  P  P  I  N  G."

Unfortunately, the gym kept running out so I would drink them for a week or so and then go without - waiting for the next delivery.

Time went by and I learned to buy extras when they were in stock - to tide me over during the dry times.

I teased Bob and Bobbie every day about going cold turkey and jonesing for my Lime Cucumber. 

"Who's watching the inventory around here?  Why can't your bosses see that you are always out of them?  Why don't they know enough to buy extra cases for God's sake?"

"Bozos!!!"

This week is Bobbie's last week.  She's moving on to greener pastures.

Tuesday as I was leaving, Bob said that Bobbie had left me a note before going home.  I read the note:  "A little gift for a great customer (signed) Bobbie."

Alongside were a couple of Lime Cucumber Gatorade's.

Then to top it off, Bob added, "I was at WinCo this weekend and the Lime Cucumbers were on sale so....".  And he handed me an 8 pack.

I'm pretty sure that the night shift employees at Planet Fitness aren't getting rich.

To be clear, let me re-type that for my many, many friends who live near Suck-Egg Hollow, Tennessee:

They ain't makin' diddley (Northern part of Suck-Egg Hollow), 

or, 

They ain't livin' in high cotton (Southern part of Suck-Egg Hollow).

I was flabbergasted.  Something caught my eye.  I looked to my left and saw that I was beside myself.

I've mentioned before about old age and hormonal changes - turning he-men into blubbering pansies.

I had to work hard to hold back a tear.

[sunny6677]

Flower Boy

A Sodapop x Male! Reader

CHAPTER 1: A Customer.

TW FOR STORY: IMPLIED HOMOPHOBIA, HOMOPHOBIA, INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA, PROFANITY, MENTIONS OF PEOPLE GOING MISSING, JOHNNYS DEATH.

TW FOR CHAPTER: None.

Disclaimer: The first few chapters take place before the story even begins, so Johnny is still alive at this current time in the story.

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

You ain't ever see too many men walkin' around here not causin' rumbles or not gettin' into fights with any Greasers or Socs.

Those Greasies and those Socies or whatever had always been rivalin' one another, no matter the gender; gettin' into verbal disputes and rumblin' with one another like someone from an insane asylum.

Yet here was I, neither a Socie or a Greasie. Some would consider me a Socs, but I think I'd consider me an actual normal person.

Ya see, my mother here, see, she had above average money but she wasn't rich or anythin'. My father owned a car, and me and my siblings had enough food to be fed.

The Socies were rich folk; folk who ain't ever have to worry 'bout what they need to do for a livin' or nothin'. All they have to do is ask their parents, and they can bet away with anythin'.

The Greasies, or Greasers; were among the poor folk. Greasy hair, with usually jackets.

As different as they treated eachother, for me, they weren't so different.

I can see the way they act around eachother, the sunset is clear enough. Different as they think the other is, they still set just about the same.

As for me, I'm among the wise men who don't get into fights and drink beer for funsies like a total bozo.

I'm 16 years old and I'm workin' at a flower shop downtown called Floral Heavens. I ain't too fond of the greasies and the socies who pass by callin' me 'Flower Boy', since they seem to think me workin' at a flower shop makes me less of a man somehow.

I ain't bothered by 'em though. When they're all in their nursing homes in the near future and have to be cared for due to their alcoholic problems, I'll learn to grow outta my annoyance for their meaningless insults, i'm sure.

But as for this here story I'm about to tell ya; let me tell ya now, this little Greasie here, see, was the only Greasie I didn't find myself wantin' to shoot myself with.

And how this story started was easy.

Ya see, I was doin' my normal stuff-- i clocked in and gave anyone who came in to check out the flowers or buy some a warm greetin' like I always did.

The shop here, see, was like a total greenhouse. The sunlight would peek in from the windows, givin' it a warm aura of some sorts.

Some flowers would be stuck in their pots, and some were strung along the walls for decoration. People here loved the atmosphere, and I'm pretty sure my boss knew that damn well.

It was upon one Saturday evenin' a certain man walked in. I looked up, and realized it was one of those damn Greasies.

I was wonderin' though-- what on earth was a Greasie doin' in a flower shop? Maybe he was buyin' somethin' for his girlfriend? Did he even have one?

What was kinda off about 'em was his looks. With his luscious dark gold hair and those dark brown eyes of caramel, it was a wonder that he was even real. He had a goofy grin on his face that I couldn't help but grin back at as he walked in with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, pal-- whatcha here for? You buyin' somethin' for a honey of yours?" I asked, smilin' at his weird movie star type looks.

His hair shimmered in the sunlight reflectin' from the window as he stared into my eyes and told me; "Yep.. now what have ya got, sir? You have any daisies?"

"Why sure, I believe we do-- wouldn't ya normally be buyin' a rose for a honey o' yours though?" I asked, while turnin' to go look for the daisies that were layin' off somewhere.

Even though I was no longer facin' 'em, I could hear his smile. "Nah, daisies are her favorite. I wanna make her happy, so i'm buyin' her one."

"Mm-- I see. Ya want a bouquet of 'em?"

"Yep."

I got a bouquet of daisies. I didn't know why, but I felt a lil' happy. It had been a while since I saw someone buy somethin' different for a sweetheart of theirs. It made my boredom quite less persistent with this work environment.

I walked up to the counter, and handed 'em to that boy with a smile.

"That'll be a dollar. People don't want 'em often, so they're less pricey."

He grinned with a giggle, and checked his pockets while sayin; "Oh yeah? Well I betcha if my girl ever came up here, you'd be loaded with tons of moneys with how much she'd buy."

"Oh really? That'd be real nice of her. Maybe if ya take her up here sometime, she could lend me a twenty with how much she'd be willin' to pay for."

"Heh, you betcha. I'm curious, I didn't think I ever saw you around before-- ya new?"

"Well, I just got the job, so you could say somewhat."

"Oh really now? Whats your name?"

"Y/N. Why? Do I look familiar or somethin'?" I smiled.

"Pffft, yeah. Your that guy I robbed a bank with a decade ago." He joked.

"Heheh.. how'd ya know?"

I didn't ever meet someone with such a charmin' way of doin' anythin' before. If I'm bein' honest, I was already hopin' this guy would come back sometime soon.

He smirked, "Heh.. ya can't hide from me that easy. Names Sodapop by the way."

"Sodapop? Really? Thats a real cool name."

"Why thank ya-- ya have a real cool name yourself, pal."

"Well, I thank ya too. Have ya ever come by here before?"

"No, but I see ladies and their girlfriends comin' in up in here all the time. Figured it'd be a nice gift for my girl an' all, so thats why I'm here."

"Well, I'm sure she'll appreciate it-- ya wanna-- ya wanna take a look around or will this be your way off now?"

Asked I. I myself didn't realize it at the time, but I think this was the beginnin' of my big old fascination with this man.

"Nah, I'll be off now. But I'll come back sometime to look around, so no sweat--"

He then went towards the exit, and opened it up, leaving a ray of sunshine to glow in. "Well, I'll see ya! Bye!" He waved with that goofy ol' grin of his.

"Ah-- bye.." Truth be told, as he exited that door, I was hopin' he'd come back a minute later for more. With that attitude of his, I could tell he was a good kid, even though he was most likely a Greasie.

But that attitude of his was enough to make me fall in love with him later on; and fallin' in love with another man in this time was a dangerous game. Especially if you didn't know whether they liked you back or not.

The game hadn't been started yet, but I knew deep down from the very start soon it would have to be played. I and Soda, the chess pieces. And the ones movin' the chess pieces, the gods above playin' with us.

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 3: I like girls that dance

summary: It’s your first night out and your first real introduction to Westheath. Rafe is quick to find his way on your radar.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 4.6k

a/n: the way I’m imagining Jack Harlow as I write Liam 😩✋also, im pulling these chapter titles out of my ass - but actually tho, go listen to Girls That Dance by Masego 

Part 1 Part 2

Despite your doubts, you put on the sheer top and the black mini skirt Millie and Olivia had insisted you wear. Your favorite pregame playlist plays as you do your makeup in the mirror. You move as quickly as you can, in desperate need of a shot to calm your nerves before your flat fills with people. You’re also nervous about seeing Rafe after that encounter in the kitchen you just had. 

As you run your fingers through your hair and put on your earrings, all you can see is his stupid (and annoyingly attractive) face, staring down at you with that dumb backwards cap, telling you that you guys should watch Game of Thrones together. Every time your mind starts to think if that means something, you quickly shut down the thought. Of course it doesn’t mean anything. Just because a boy wants to watch a show with you does not automatically mean he wants you or that this was going to turn into some kind of Netflix and chill situation. Or was this gonna be a Netflix and chill situation? I mean it was Rafe Cameron after all, the boy certainly had a reputation. But then again, hadn’t he just showed you that he’s different from what you had expected? Oh god this was all too much to think about right now, you needed a shot. Stat. 

“Y/N!” Olivia shouts, swinging the door to your room open right on cue. “Oh. My. God. You look so hot!” she exclaims. “Here, this is for you,” she extends a shot glass toward you with a devilish grin. 

“Oh god what is it,” you grimace. Shots always seemed like a better idea in theory than in practice. 

“Try it and find out,” she smirks. You sigh and send the liquid to the back of your throat, immediately cringing at the sting of raspberry vodka, Olivia bringing a cup of cranberry juice to your mouth to chase. 

“Don’t worry love, a few more and you won’t even taste it. Now come on,” she laughs, dragging you with her to the kitchen. The rest of your flatmates are already there, Millie bopping along to the music, giggling at whatever Topper is saying, Rafe standing close by sipping his drink. 

“Y/n you hottie!” Millie cheers, looking up as you make your way into the kitchen. You pray to god your cheeks aren’t turning pink. You don’t dare turn your head, but you know Rafe is staring at you. If you looked at him now you’d be crimson for sure. 

“Alright everybodyyy,” Olivia begins, pouring the same raspberry vodka into the five shot glasses she has lined up on the table. You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy, this girl is nothing if not the life of the party. 

“Cheers to our first night out as flat mates! Wooo!!!” she exclaims, as everyone grabs a shot glass from the table, Rafe instinctively passing you one, hands briefly touching during the exchange and again as you all clink your glasses. You down the contents, unsure if the heat forming in your chest is from the vodka or the feeling of Rafe’s passing touch. 

Pretty soon people start to arrive, Olivia and Millie making sure to introduce everyone. The flat becomes a blur of bodies drinking, dancing, and mingling about, and somehow, despite it all, Rafe Cameron is the person you find yourself standing with. There was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite understand, but it kept drawing you near. 

“What are you drinking tonight Cameron,” you nod at the cup in his hand.

“Jack and coke. Of course,” he scoffs with subtle sarcasm, which you instantly pick up on. 

“Not straight whiskey? Wow. That’s not very Figure 8 of you,” you admonish playfully.

“Straight whiskey? L/n who do you think I am?” he twists his face in mock disbelief. “But I’m game to do a shot if you are,” he adds.

“Hmm that does-“ you begin, but you’re quickly cutoff. 

“Y/n, babe, if I had known you’d be here I would’ve came sooner,” Liam greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a cheeky smile. 

“Now how on earth do you two know each other,” Millie asks, walking in line with the boy.

“Umm,” you chuckle nervously. You could not have possibly felt more awkward at the conversation unfolding in front of you, Rafe standing by as witness to it all. “He’s that boy I went to the bar with the other night,” you explain sheepishly.

“That was Liam!? Chrissake. Well I apologize on his behalf for anything he said or did.”

“Hey I’ll have you know I’m a proper gentleman!” he defends, throwing you a wink as Millie rolls her eyes. Just at that moment, another group of people walk in through the door, conveniently coming to Rafe’s rescue.

“Rafe!” a girl calls and he clears his throat excusing himself, Millie following suit to greet the latest batch of guests. You watch as he leans in for a hug with the girl who’s just called his name. She’s twirling her hair and batting her eyes, confident, flirty, gorgeous - just his type. A sick feeling pools in your stomach, you don’t even realize you’re staring. 

“Lily Colts, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Liam informs you as he takes the now empty spot next to you.

“Oh, um no, I was just uh-“

“It’s okay Y/n, I get it. So flatmate huh” he laughs, unbothered.

“No no it’s not like that at all I uh-”

“Alright. Y/n,” he says, jumping up to sit on the counter behind him, cracking open the can in his hand. “You know I think you’re hot and you know I like messing with you-”

“Actually I know neither of those things,” you reply indignantly. 

“Yes you do, you’re not dim,” he bulldozes right on, “I can read people pretty well, and there was a vibe there.”

“A vibe?”

“Yeah. Between you and what’s-his-face. You should’ve seen the way he tensed up when I came up to you,” he snickers in amusement.

“Shut up. His name is Rafe, by the way, and there was no ‘vibe.’ Also why are you even telling me this?” you ask, growing frustrated with the cocky brunette.

“Y/n please,” he scoffs. “I told you I can read people, so let me read you. You’re out here in London right, far away from home, keen for a fresh start. You’ve never been one for meaningless flings, but fuck it, if everyone else can do it, why not you? Or so you try to convince yourself, but you know that’s not you. See, you crave that emotional connection, and when you find even a hint of it, you’re a goner. Which is why you’d never actually hook up with me and it’s why you’re staring at that boy from home even though you swear you don’t care, but you do - you feel something there.”

You’re dumbfounded by his ability to know things about you that even you yourself can’t recognize. “I liked it better when you were just flirting with me,” you grumble.  

“No worries darling, I’ll definitely still do that. I’ll even dance on you in the club if you ask nicely, might make pretty boy over there jealous,” he motions with his eyes toward Rafe, at which you give his shoulder a shove.

“You’re an idiot you know, Millie was right on the money with that,” you quip, as the two of you head over to her, Liv, and the boys.

“Please, Millie wishes she could be right on something else,” he says as you shoot him a glare, trying your best to suppress a laugh. Liam was starting to become a pain in your ass, too smart for his own good, but at least he was a funny one.

—

Your first night clubbing was going great. The place was packed, the music was good, and you were having a blast dancing with Liv, Millie, and their friends. You couldn’t help looking around the club though, eyes scanning for Rafe in the crowd. He’d been hanging out all night with Topper and some of the guys from their new soccer team. You longed to be near him somehow, to interact with him again. All your conversations with him earlier today had left you with an excited buzz - you didn’t know what it was about this version of Rafe Cameron in London, but you were actually enjoying his company.

You try to push him out of your mind and just enjoy the moment. It’s not like there was anything between you and Rafe, you had just barely began to form a semblance of a potential friendship today, let’s not get carried away. Besides, you live with the boy, accidentally running into him wasn’t going to be much of a challenge. 

“Anyone want anything from the bar?” you shout over the music to your friends.

“Vodka soda with lime please!” Olivia shouts back and you nod, turning to make your way to the counter a few feet away. You place your order and mindlessly tap your fingers on the bar as a figure appears beside you.

“Hey, Y/n right? Flatmates with Olivia, Mills, and the boys?” the girl asks, and you turn, now face to face with Lily. 

“Uh yeah, hey,” you feign a smile back. 

“I’m Lily, nice to meet you,” she smiles genuinely. “I’m friends with all the Westheath bozos you’ve probably been meeting tonight,” she laughs, “Callum and Henry over there are my best mates. They’re on the football team with Rafe and Topper, we were showing them around earlier. My god you guys have been hoarding some cute ones over there in America.”

You chuckle, “glad that Kildare’s presence can at least be of some benefit.” 

“So, girl to girl here, what can you tell me about Rafe Cameron? He’s such a hottie isn’t he? Would love to get a taste of that,” she smirks, licking her lips.

“Umm I don’t really have much to tell,” you say, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. You could tell her what you thought you knew of Outer Banks Rafe - he’s a rich, party-boy player. But after today, that no longer felt right. You didn’t want to say or presume anything about him at all actually, it felt wrong to talk about him like that. God, what the hell was wrong with you? You spend a few hours with the boy and you already have a soft spot for him? You needed to get a grip. “Our families know each other but we don’t really hang out at home. He’s uh- he’s cool though,” you decide as a sufficient response.

“Any girl friend?” she asks, sliding cash over to the bartender as she orders a shot.

“Rafe’s not really the ‘girlfriend-type’,” you answer, bartender sliding you the drinks you ordered and Lily her’s. 

“Well then cheers to that,” she grins, clinking her shot glass to your drink before she downs it, waving a quick goodbye. You watch as she makes her way back to Rafe and their group, adorning a flirty smile. You feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to hate her, you did. But you couldn’t. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just confident, outgoing, and not afraid to go after what she wanted. There was nothing for you to be angry about, who was stopping you from doing the same?

 But in the back of your mind you decided you could never go after Rafe like that. He would never be interested in you in that way, you were sure of it. You had a hard time believing your friends when they hyped you up, so you definitely weren’t going to believe for a single second that a boy you thought was cool could possibly look at you in the same way. Besides, the mere idea of being rejected by Rafe Cameron, and then having to continue living with him and eventually go back to the Outer Banks for everyone to find out you had been rejected by the kook prince, was so mortifying that the very thought made you want to crawl into a hole. So you promise yourself, right then and there, that you won’t let yourself get hurt like that. You could hang out with Rafe, get to know him, become friends even, but under no circumstances could you be caught wearing your heart on your sleeve. You couldn’t disarm yourself like that and give him the upper hand. You needed to look out for yourself first and foremost, preserving the little bit of control you still had over your life. 

You walk back over to your friends, slipping Liv her drink as her and Jake dance together. Your new friends are all tipsy and in a world of their own, getting lost in the music and their movements.

“Dance with me,” you turn to Liam who’s right beside you.

“I said if you ask nicely,” he admonishes sarcastically, to which you roll your eyes.

“I’m not gonna beg Liam. You wanna dance or not?”

“Sheesh, Lily Colts got your panties in a twist like that?”

“Not. At. All.” You confidently stare into his eyes, sipping your drink. It’s no use, Liam knows you all too well by now, and you curse yourself for the way in which this boy is able to see right through all the walls you put up. You may think these walls are made of brick, but to Liam they’re glass.

He just laughs at you, shaking his head in amusement. He grabs your free hand and pulls you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. He takes your hand and rests it on the back of his neck, his finding their way to your hips. He plants his leg in between yours and soon you guys are lost in the rhythm. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second. He spins you around and you lightly grind your ass against him.

“Damn Y/n, I didn’t know you move like that,” he jokes, as you face forward again. He leans in, his hand on the small of your back, and you feel his breath right against your ear, “he’s looking by the way.” Your breath hitches, but you know better than to turn around. Liam is already one step ahead of you, instinctively twirling you again so you can quickly catch a glimpse of Rafe’s eyes on yours without it being obvious. “Told you he’d be jealous,” he smirks down at you triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you reply, the slightest smile tugging at your lips as your sweaty bodies continue to move to the music.

—-

“Aw flatmate bonding you guysss,�� Olivia gushes, as you all sit together at a booth. She had forced you all out of your beds this morning to get breakfast together. Despite being hungover and groggy, you all reluctantly agreed. “Mimosas anyone?” she jokes.

“If I so much as smell any alcohol I think I’ll vomit,” Topper groans.

“Aw, what’s the matter, can’t handle your liquor Tops?” Millie asks, quirking her head to the side.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Could ask you the same question. My room is right next to the bathroom, don’t think I didn’t hear your retching last night,” he snaps back, to which Millie turns bright red and soon you’re all hunched over in laughter.

“I think a mimosa would make me yak right now too, to be fair. Coffees all around!” Olivia asserts.

You’re seated across from Rafe as you both scan your menus, your eyes immediately fixing in on the pancakes. The waiter comes by to take all your orders and you can’t help but blush a little when Rafe orders pancakes and you have to follow with a “same for me.” Such a silly, meaningless thing, I mean everyone likes pancakes. But being the only one to have the same exact order as Rafe leaves you feeling embarrassed, for no good reason all the same. You all begin to scarf down your food as soon as it arrives, thankful to have something to soak up the alcohol in your stomachs, as you share stories and laugh about last night’s drunken antics. 

“So how is it that we’re all flatmates and yet I only have Topper’s contact. Come on, add ‘em in,” Rafe says, sliding his unlocked phone to the middle of the table.

“Wait I want snapchats too. Oooh! And instagram!” Olivia pipes, whipping out her phone as well.

“I expect no booty calls Cameron. This is strictly business,” Millie jokes, typing in her and Olivia’s numbers before passing his phone to you. 

“Am I allowed a booty call?” Topper smirks, extending his phone as well.

“I wouldn’t push your luck Thornton,” she smirks back and he pouts in response. You finish typing your name and number into Rafe’s phone and hand it back to him, skin briefly making contact once again. Even though you had known Rafe all your life, somehow you two never had a reason to exchange numbers, only following each other on Instagram which he never posted on anyways.

“Alright everyone, pull up your snapchat codes, I wanna make a group,” Olivia says and everyone obliges, arms crossing every which way as you all add each other. “What should we name our group chat? Ooo can we do a ship name of our schools - like Kilheath or Westare?” 

“I like Kilheath,” Topper chimes in.

“Yeah I bet you do you psychopath. Sounds like the name of a bad horror movie,” Rafe laughs.

“Oooo there’s five of us, we could be the Spice Girls,” Millie beams.

“No.” Topper immediately shuts her down. 

“What about ‘American Boys and Spice Girls.’ You know, like the Kanye West song,” you add.

“Ehh, we’re getting closer, but not quite there,” Rafe teases you and you playfully kick him under the table. “I’m hearing a lot of opinions and not a lot of contributions,” you cross your arms and raise your brows.

“Hey hey hey, I’m a critic, not a chef L/n,” he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Ooo I got it! We can call it the ‘Royal fam,’ like the royal family,” Olivia suggests, finally getting approval from the whole group. Breakfast is soon over and you all return to your rooms, eager to nap away the remainder of your hangovers. You lay in your bed and stare at the newly formed snapchat group on your phone. Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 appears on top and you scroll down, looking at Rafe’s username and bitmoji on your screen. You laugh at the fact that even his bitmoji wears a backwards cap. It was weird, having him in your phone like this. You had known this boy your whole life, but you two had always operated in separate spheres. And here he was, in your Snapchat, a glimpse into the life of Rafe, of which you only ever got a birds eye view of back home. It almost felt like you were trespassing somewhere you didn’t belong, having access to him like this. You sigh and lock your phone. Rafe Cameron really isn’t all that bad.

—

The next few days fly by fast as you become acclimated to Westheath. You and the rest of the Kildare kids attend an orientation with Westheath’s exchange advisor, spending the whole time with your little trio: you, Rafe, and Topper. When you had first arrived abroad, you were deadset on forging your own path in London and steering clear of everyone else from OBX. But hanging out with Rafe and Topper made you all but forget. It was fun and easy hanging out with them, in fact, counterintuitively, they were helping you forget all about the Outer Banks, just as you had hoped to do. Your conversations centered around your interests, your new lives, on random jokes and made up bits. It was almost as if there was a mutual unspoken agreement between you, them also trying to escape and forget their lives in OBX.

Pretty soon classes began, and you were learning a new schedule and adapting to British schooling. Your evenings were spent singing and dancing in the kitchen as you, Liv, and Millie simultaneously cooked your dinners, getting pints at the pub around the corner with your Westheath friends, and playing card games at the kitchen table with Rafe and Topper, the smack talk between you three flowing strong. There’d be short moments where you’d find yourself alone with Rafe - he’d explain to you whatever Premier League team was playing that day, you’d show him how the coffee machine works, and the occasional passing comments of “so when are we finally starting Game of Thrones, Cameron?” “I’m ready whenever you are, L/n.”

—

It was a Wednesday night, and you were curled up in your fluffy gray blanket watching Gilmore Girls in bed. You found the show comforting and familiar, the small town of Stars Hallow reminding you of what you wished your life in the Outer Banks could be like. Instead it was more like the cold and pretentious atmosphere of Chilton and the older Gilmores’ Hartford life. Your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lazily to check, suddenly freezing at the notification on your screen.

Snapchat: Rafe Cameron

You had opened a few snapchats from the boy over the past few days, but they were always random ones he would send to the group chat. This one was just for you. You gulp and put your phone down, not wanting to open it too fast. A few minutes go by and you realize you haven’t paid an ounce of attention to the show on your screen, even though you’re staring right at it. Fuck it. You open your phone and tap on the unread snap.

When are we watching Game of Thrones L/n the snapchat says, a picture of his laptop on his bed and the HBO Max home page open, the series featured in the corner of the screen.

You snap back a picture of your blanket and the laptop playing Gilmore Girls in front of you: ready whenever you are Cameron.

Almost immediately you get a response back.

Rafe Cameron: wait are you home rn? His message is accompanied by a random picture of his room, a view you let your eyes linger on until the message expires. Another peak into Rafe Cameron’s world.

Y/n: Yep! You send a blurry selfie of you wrapped in your blanket.

Rafe Cameron: be over in 5

You leave that last message on open and your heart starts to race. Just breathe Y/n, breathe, you keep telling yourself. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t make it out to be. It’s just a show. Just a show. And besides, you guys are friends now, right? You sit up in your bed and grab your pillow, shifting over to sit horizontally on your mattress. That seems more casual to you, more ‘just a couple friends watching a show together at a comfortable distance��� and less ‘sitting right on top of each other Netflix and chill’. You gulp down some water to ease your dry throat when you hear a gentle knock.

“Come in!” you call out, and now Rafe Cameron is in your room, eyes absorbing all the details that are so you. The posters on one wall, film camera photos on another. The string lights which wrap around your room and give it a warm glow. The plants, the subtle scent of vanilla. The bag you always carried with you, hanging off the side of your chair. He almost felt like he was intruding, like he was getting an intimate glimpse of something that was for your eyes only. 

“Whats up,” he says, holding his laptop and closing the door behind him. 

“Ready to finally start the show,” you laugh, “it’s about damn time.”

“Hey, I’ve been ready, it’s you who’s been taking your sweet time.”

“Is that so?” you ask sarcastically and a smile forms on his face.

“What are you doing over there? Who sits like that on their bed?” he asks, now coming over and taking a seat on your mattress facing vertically, propping your other pillow behind his back. “Can’t even stretch out your legs or anything,” he continues, patting the spot on the bed next to him, signaling for you to come over.

“I don’t know, I think it’s comfy,” you lie as you crawl over to him, your first line of defense already shot down. 

“Weirdo,” he chuckles to which you nudge him in the side with your elbow. “If Topper’s wrong about this I’m gonna give him so much shit,” he says.

“Topper does have a lot of questionable opinions,” you laugh, “but I have a good feeling about this one.

—

One episode turned into two turned into three, you and Rafe instantly hooked. The nerves you had felt earlier at sitting so close next to this boy in your bed had all but dissipated, you quickly acclimating to the space he took up next to you. Even though by now all your previous misconceptions about Rafe had disappeared, replaced with the boy you had come to know over the past week, there was a small part of you that was still waiting to see if he’d try to pull something on you, like the Rafe you imagined back home surely would. Of course he didn’t, watching and discussing the show with you, making you feel as comfortable as if you two had been friends for years. You almost felt bad for having had doubted him in the first place.

When the third episode ended and you two got into a long post-episode discussion, you hardly noticed when the conversation began to digress. You both started to sink lower and lower down into your pillows, until you were both laying on your backs, staring at the ceiling and lost in exchanges of words and thoughts. The conversation was different this time, more candid and open, as if the shadow of the night was inviting you to divulge thoughts you wouldn’t have shared in the day. He spoke of his strained relationship with his father and you shared the silly drama that had caused a riff between you and your former friends back home. He showed you pictures of his dog and you showed him the video you had been working on all summer long in OBX, not having anyone to hang out with before you left for London. He talked about how he felt so disconnected from almost everyone on that island, and you nodded, understanding all too well. The conversation continued to ebb and flow, the occasional funny video or meme pulling you two into fits of laughter before seamlessly delving into another vulnerable train of thought. You both had your Spotify accounts open now, taking turns sharing your favorite songs. You put on a playlist you had made over the summer, full of songs that made you feel at peace. 

“This puts you at ease huh,” he says.

You turn your head to look at him, “how could you tell?”

“I don’t know. I guess just the way your whole body relaxed the second you pressed play,” he replies.

“Yeah,” you say turning your head back toward the ceiling. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel like these songs are speaking to my soul or something,” you whisper.

“Yeah I get that… I have those too,” he whispers back. Neither of you realize it’s already 5 am and neither of you notice as your eyes both get heavy and sleep washes over you, playlist in the background like a lullaby. And at some point during your deep sleep, Rafe’s arm has found itself unconsciously wrapped around you.

---

Part 4

a/n: lemme know what you think!(:

[niennanir]

Hurricane Ian did a number on my neighborhood. We had over 24 hours of heavy rain, more than I’ve ever seen from a hurricane in 40 years. Houses a few streets over were under water a couple of inches. We lost a truly distressing amount of grand trees and both of my trees suffered a lot of damage. The storm, technically, didn’t ‘hit’ here and wasn’t forecast to be even half as strong as it was and also didn’t behave in any way it was predicted to which is how you know that what we actually know about meteorology as a science is basically nothing and I’d do well to remember that when these morons start throwing darts at the wall to make their guesses. 

Telling the story of a hurricane is a little like telling the story of a party at which you had probably slightly more alcohol than was good for you and then some bozo roofied your drink. Everything is a blur and when you come back to reality there’s this vague sense of unease because you know things went sideways but you’re 200% unsure exactly how.

I need to regrade my lawn, this became apparent when, about hour nine of the hurricane, my pump and french drain could no longer stay ahead of the water pooling in the low spot of the back yard and water got into my lanai and then into my laundry room and studio.

 It wasn’t a distressing amount of water, except for the distress of having to mop everything three times. I hope it’s three, I haven’t got as far as three yet but everything’s still dirty.

My neighbor, bless his brilliant working class heart, declared that he’d thought of a way to dig some trenches in my lawn to divert the water out to the street and would I be upset if he tore up my grass? Not nearly as upset as I would be if the water got any higher in my house, go for it, ‘A’. He came back 5 minutes later with a 4 wheel drive pickup and spun the tires out the entire length of my yard. There is mud splattered everywhere but A has proven well over that he’s a good guy to have on hand in a crisis because the water started going down immediately.

Shortly after this my generator conked out. 

Somewhere around hour 15 most of the branches blew off my maple tree, A’s tool shed blew down the block and one of the grand trees on the corner blew out by it’s roots, blocking the entire street and also one of the storm drain.

I feel like the folks in charge of our storm sewers maybe need to look at capacity. This wasn’t storm surge. This was flat out more rain than the sewers could handle. The water could have run off, neither the creek nor the canal broke their banks and that means we would have had less damages to both people and plants with better drainage, something to take up with the local government I think.

At about hour twenty two I completely freaked out because that’s when the cell phones went down. The power had been out for a few hours by this point but the idea of not even being able to see where the hurricane currently was and how much longer it planned on hanging around sent me right over the deep end. I’m generally really good with the contingencies but I’m not really good when plans A through G go completely FUBAR. I do not have any ideas for a plan H, I’m currently taking suggestions. 

When the storm finally passed there was water almost knee deep in the street. There were actual schools of minnows in my driveway

My least favorite part of any hurricane isn’t the hurricane, it’s the cleanup after the hurricane. Cleaning up with no electric and way more mud than is healthy isn’t fun. But on the up side I live in an awesome neighborhood and as soon as the wind died down everyone was out starting in on the worst of it. One of A’s kids cleared the small debris from my front lawn and I cleaned out another neighbor’s fridge so it wouldn’t form sentient life. And one of the neighbors farther down the street brought his skid steer down and pulled the tree out of the street and away from the sewer. We do a decent job of looking out for each other. The Pub on the corner didn’t have power but they fired up the gas griddle and made $10 dinners to clear out their fridges before everything spoiled. 

This wasn’t actually the worst storm I’ve ever done. (That was the blizzard of ‘78) It’s not even second place. It was the longest and I found myself at several points wishing for storms more like Hurricane Charlie. It’s been a week and a day, I got electric back last night and internet restored today and right now I’m sitting on my couch in the A/C watching Mythbusters reruns. So I guess I can’t complain.

A few places around town are going to have to work hard to get back to normal, including the Venice Theater.

but we’ll do what we always do. Another week of cleaning and the fundraisers will start. I’m told several groups out of state are already hosting fundraising events for us. I have a list on my fridge of all the things I can do better for next time, so I guess that’s the next step.

[deadweight-at7am]

PTV show

Saturday was the PTV show at the Fillmore. It was a great experience with a few stumbling blocks along the way. The crowd was a really hilarious conglomeration of people who looked like they were going to a rock show and people who looked like they were cosplaying. I don't know how to describe it otherwise. I met up with an internet friend there named Shayla and we waited in line together. It was spitting rain because of the remnants of Ian but luckily not pouring. As soon as we got to the doors it literally started to pour rain, so everyone was getting soaked. Getting in was easy, we all had GA tickets so it was standing room only. I will say, I think I could have dealt with standing room at a different point in my life but my experience with people in the audience were less than fantastic. MOST people were cool and we happened to start talking to a group right behind us of 21 year olds, they were actually really funny. They thought we were their age and I'm like "nah babes I'm 33" and they looked fucking SHOCKED hahaha. The concert was for I Prevail but I wasn't really there for them (as a lot of people weren't) and I have to say the opening acts (Yours Truly & Fit for a King) were really great. As soon as PTV came on they played Noises that May Startle You in Your Sleep and slid right into Hell Above which was PHENOMENAL. Amazing way to start a show. Especially bc Misadventures is my favorite album of theirs. So, they played great songs and also Pass the Nirvana. I felt like I was the only one standing in my area that knew all the words to Pass the Nirvana which was kind of funny and a bit odd but ya girl likes to go off at shows.

The shitty part was that a) huge men who were like 6'2"+ kept squeezing in front of a group of us small women. I feel like men should have better sense than to stand directly in front of women but unfortunately they don't so that kept making us have to inch our way around them. Total bozos. But then once PTV started playing this group of girls who were literally at least 6'3" started backing up and elbowing Greg & I. It got so bad that I though they were going to knock me over and trample me. My safety is important and I'm not going to the hospital for some stupid assholes so, it made me super angry. I started pushing them yelling VERY loudly "GET OFF OF ME" and they refused to even turn around which is how I knew they knew what they were doing and didn't care. I continued to kick the backs of their feet and push the fuck out of them until it got to a point where they were just blocking my view entirely and I couldn't even move. So, I told my crew I needed to move out. I was decently in the middle of the crowd but I wasn't going to be able to do that for another 20 minutes. So, we moved towards the back and stood at the bar where another woman overheard me loudly complaining about how I was about to punch them and she said that she was 2 rows behind the barricade and had to leave because she couldn't breathe people were pushing her so hard.

There are a lot of really young people at these shows who don't know concert etiquette. I didn't care about the pit. I didn't care about moshing. None of that bothers me, I know where it's going to be and I don't get anywhere near it. But the fucking pushing, shoving, being disrespectful and literally standing on someone is fucking out of control. I have a bad temper and I'm like not going to get thrown out of a venue for punching some dumbass in the head. I thought about it though. The guy standing behind us was like "we should just open a pit right here and tear their asses up!" At the end of the day the show was AWESOME. I did stay for some I Prevail songs but their setlist was SEVENTEEN songs, wtf. I also just don't really vibe with them although they did put on a great show and sound very good live. We watched the guitarist from Fit for a King crowd surf while still playing his guitar and then stand on the bar, drink a beer and get back in the crowd and surf back to the front. It was very entertaining. He was super high energy. And one of the dudes from I Prevail spit water into the crowd LMFAO I turned around and said "EVERYONE'S TESTING POSITIVE FOR COVID TONIGHT!" It was funny, we laughed.

At the end it was like 10:30 when we left so we were there for about 4 and 1/2 hours. It was really fun. I admit that I will see them again if they go on a headlining tour. My other friend Michael was at the barricade and caught Tony's guitar pick. He even has a great video of it.

[whatsabriard]

Watch With Me: Hart to Hart 2x05

Original Airdate: December 16, 1980

Synopsis: Jennifer and Jonathan go undercover to identify a toy pla thief who has become a murderer.

Why this one?: We needed a christmas themed episode, any episode that features Drunk!Jennifer is a gem, and the idiots go undercover in the most hilarious way possible.

Favorite Quote:

Jonathan: A little too much christmas cheer? Jennifer: Well, a little too much for 11 o'clock in the morning. Jonathan: I thought that was a pretty terrific gimmick. Buy a tree and get all the grog you can drink free. Jennifer: I dunno. I still prefer my christmas cheer in front of the fireplace. After dark. Jonathan: That's why I come down the chimney every night.

YEAH HE SAID IT.

Right off the bat, I'm gonna tell you I got tired of rehashing the plot. That's boring. Instead you get my stream of consciousness which is more fun for me. Ya'll, not so much maybe. Andway, enjoy this shitpost/recap.

So the Harts are driving home with a whole ass real tree just sitting in the backseat of the Rolls. Can you imagine the sap.

Jennifer is really drunk and slurring her words. How much free grog did she drink.

Instead of going home, they go to a drive-in theater but it's not for the fun stuff, Jonathan needs to see a man about a horse...toy.

Jennifer is disappointed that they're not gonna neck. She doesn't say it but I know it.

Jonathan meets a guy who is a private investigator about toy designs that are being stolen from HARToy.

This horse isn't Randy Racehorse (WHICH IS JONATHAN'S NICKNAME CHANGE MY MIND) it's Pamela Palomino. But Kris knows it's a Breyer horse and they're all crazy.

This guy gets bit by a snake in a toy and his initial reaction is to literally say "DAMN TOYS" at the plastic snake. He dies.

I'm a fan of this outfit and of the fact that Jennifer perches on Jonathan's desk ala Phryne Fisher.

Someone is trying to drive the toy business into the ground by stealing toy designs.

VERNE AND EDNA

Edna, directly inspired by Dolly Parton

This guy's hair.

Robbie the Robot - that was an actual toy wasn't it? No, no. I'm thinking of Alphie.

There is a sound effect of the robot used in this episode and it's so annoying.

The guy with the Bozo hair says he's going to give the Harts everything they wanted for Christmas plus a little more. By that he means a modded Simon game filled with explosives. It's called Do Re Me but everyone knows it's Simon.

What the hell, Jonathan, and your christmas Ascot.

Jennifer gets bored of playing Generic Simon so she goes away, Freeway knocks the table and Generic Simon explodes with about as much firepower as a roman candle.

Like did he think that was going to kill them? what an idiot. Eric of the Bozo Hair is losing his mind.

Jonathan brings a microphone transmitter that Jennifer found in his pocket.

Stanley, the dummy, asks Jennifer what she was doing with her hand in his pocket. She's like "WELL."

"It's my karma. I vibrate in sympathy with the universe." Hard same, Max.

Jonathan loves seeing his name on things. I mean, I get it but.

Bozo Hair Man fusses with the Rolls, which is just an expensive choice. I hope he rigged it better than Generic Simon but also that car is worth more than his house so better not.

OH WAIT I REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS. Yeah, the car is fine. It just....stops running.

So that they can be chased by a model airplane that shoots at them.

Duck Snoopy! It's the Red Baron!

This guy has the wimpiest bombs. It falls right next to the car and it barely goes "pop".

Jonathan defeats the toy plane with a garage clicker which is absolutely GREAT since they don't even have a garage.

They're gonna meet up with Stanley's friend Bob. They say the name "Bob" at least 10 times in a 1 minute conversation

That's because BOB is a LADY.

oh that noise isn't from the stupid robot toy. It's from their swipe badges. It's still stupid annoying.

Jonathan knew Bob was a woman. Jennifer did not. "Well it's Roberta, actually."

Max makes some appetizers but apparently they're gross. They're gonna order pizza instead.

Baby girl, Just sit in his lap. It'll save time.

These jerks color coordinate their outfits.

The "fantastic" Robot shuffles around a table top, talking a big game about all the amazing things he does and then he stops. Big whoop, Robbie.

Bozo Hair Man gets dead. Down the shredder chute.

The Harts are actual monsters that put their tree in the very middle of the living room. why.

They go undercover again, this time with even better outfits.

They actually drink wine on a stakeout. as if jennifer wasn't already drunk enough in this episode.

"Ugh, I left the gun in the toy display section." what an idiot.

Jennifer's skirt is so short, her little ass is hanging out. obvi Jonathan picked it.

the bad guy's partner has a gun and she tries to shoot Jonathan.

That works really well. (also cleavage! jonathan def picked her outfit)

Right before the big ending kiss, Robbie comes to life and shuffles around and says "I can thrill you. All you have to do is press the right button." Then they make out. $5 says Jonathan always finds the right button.

[boognish-worshipper]

Sunrise, Sunset

switching it up with a franklin and lamar centered fic (not exactly as a ship buuut more or less some one sided feelings?) jus a silly little idea i had that was originally gonna be a one shot sorta thing or whatever,, changed my mind tho n i’m jus gonna split it up, this is part one !!

i feel like lamar would be very oblivious about his feelings towards frank tbh LMFAOOO

//

Lamar and Franklin sometimes drove out to the highest point in Los Santos to watch the sunrise. Well, more Lamar than Franklin, seeing as Franklin preferred to sleep in. He often dragged him out of bed to go take Chop out and see the sun peak up from the horizon, lighting the city up with natural reds and yellows.

“C’mon you lazy fuck, we gon’ miss it!”

“Lamar, the sun rises every fuckin’ day! Trust me, it’ll be there tomorrow.”

“You jus’ a lazy bum who don’t wanna get his lazy bum ass outta bed. Man get up already!”

Chop barked, and Lamar nodded to him.

“Yeah, you right Chop. This muhfucker don’t wanna budge, huh? Don’t even wanna take his precious dog for a walk. You oughta be ashamed of yoself Frank.”

“Chop wasn’t even my dog to begin with!”

“Man fuck you, you became co-parent of him when you had to take him in!”

Franklin could only groan into his pillow, missing the blissful sleep he had been shaken awake from.

“Just go away Lamar! Damn!”

He felt the taller man looming over him, grabbing his shoulders to shake him further awake.

“We’re running outta time, fool. C’mon, I’ll let you ride shotgun this time.”

Chop barked in protest.

“Chop, it’s the only way we might get him out the house.”

Accepting that arguing would get him nowhere, Franklin sat up right, glaring at Lamar.

“For fucks sake man, fine. I’ll go. Jus’ lemme throw on some clothes that ain’t the shit I wore to bed.”

Lamar grinned widely at him.

“Fuck yeah! Chop, let’s go wait in the car.”

The small dog trotted not too far behind Lamar’s long legs. Franklin wondered what force he disturbed that landed him in this position. He sighed, knowing that he wasn’t exactly a saint, so there wasn’t much to wonder at all. If this was his punishment then so be it. The car ride wasn’t too long, especially not after Franklin moving out of Strawberry to Vinewood Hills, making it easier for them to get there. Minimal traffic because of how early it was helped too. Lamar never dropped his grin, just happy to do his favorite thing with his favorite person. Who wouldn’t love watching the sunrise with their best friend? Especially seeing the way the sun lit his face up, a delicate smile on his face seeing an excellent sunrise and- Woah. Where’d that come from? Lamar figured it was just his excitement to see a particularly gorgeous sunrise, using that as an excuse for the feeling that sat in his gut. As soon as they pulled up to the spot, he bounced out of his seat, keeping the door open for Chop.

“We here homie!”

“Mhm.. so where the fuck’s the sunrise?”

“Patience Frank, patience.”

“But you jus’ fuckin’ bitched at me for the last half hour about how we was gon’ miss it! Fuck you mean patience?!”

“It’s coming! Don’t ruin a moment that’s gon’ be special, F.”

He grunted in Lamar’s direction, turning around to go play with Chop for the time being. The sunrise crept up, a ray of sunlight hitting Lamar in the eye. He blocked the light with his hand, hitting Franklin with his free one.

“Ay Frank, look!”

The sunrise that crawled up from the depths of the horizon shone in glimmers of gold and pretty shades of orange. Lamar smiled again.

“Man.. look at that. It’s beautiful ain’t it-“ He turned to face Franklin, who was caught in a trance. The sun hit his face just right, and he looked incredible. Like some sort of focused statue or whatever. It was alright to admire your homies like that, right? Nothin’ wrong with admiring a dude. Franklin turned back to answer him.

“Yeah, it sure is.. you good man?”

Lamar coughed slightly, shifting his weight onto one of his feet.

“Uh.. yeah man, just thought I saw a bug crawling on yo face or sum’. But damn, I’m glad we caught this.”

“Me too. But I’m still pissed you dragged me outta bed so fuckin’ early.”

“Man what’d I say? Don’t bitch while we havin’ a moment!”

Franklin only laughed and Lamar felt something in him stir. It was good to hear him laugh.

“So now what?”

“Well, if we leave now by the time we get back into the city some of them diners should be open for breakfast.”

“This early in the day?”

“Believe it or not Frank but the rest of society does their shit earlier than you. So ya, people eat this early.”

They went back to the car, with Chop riding shotgun this time. Franklin wanted to rest his eyes until they got to whatever food place Lamar was taking them to, earning a snarky comment from him. Lamar wanted to pick a decent place to eat and eventually settled on an old diner they went to as kids. He poked Franklin, reanimating him back to life.

“Look where we at dog.”

“Ohh shit, this that diner we used to go to after school everyday! It’s still in business?”

“Guess so man. Let’s go!”

“Wait! What about Chop?”

Shit. Right. Chop looked at the two men, tilting his head sadly.

“You wanna jus’ bring the food back to yo crib?”

“Eh fuck it. Why not.”

They decided on some basic breakfast food and brought it back to Franklin’s place. The big windows in his kitchen would illuminate the room well enough, and Lamar could value the view from there.

“So tell me Lamar, why’s it you only wanna go see the sunrise? You never mention watchin’ the sunset dog.”

“Ion really know myself homie. One day I just started gettin’ up early wit’ Chop to go walkin’ n shit.”

“Can we watch the sunset sometime then? I am tired of gettin’ up at the asscrack of dawn.”

“That’s cuz you ain’t get yo 9 hours dog.”

“Man, shut the fuck up. Who the hell gets 9 hours at our age? Bozo.”

“I’m just sayin’ maybe if you got some normal sleep for fuckin’ once you wouldn’t be such a GD grouch.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

The two finished their food in comfortable silence, with Franklin scolding Lamar at least once or twice for feeding Chop table scraps.

“So whatchu wanna do now?”

“We could always go catch a movie or sum’, maybe go see that Meltdown movie ya boy Mike was talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Yeah, I never did get the chance to go see it, with all the chaotic bullshit goin’ on.”

They left Chop at home after a long goodbye from Lamar, telling him that as soon as they got back that he would get all the treats in the world and all that other mushy shit. Franklin mocked the high-pitched voice he used to speak to Chop, earning a smack in the arm from Lamar.

They arrived for a matinee showing at the the theater closest to Franklin’s house, getting a bunch of complimentary snacks and some drinks. The movie was awful, but in a way that it was enjoyable to watch. A movie so bad it was good. Franklin kept leaning in to whisper to Lamar how corny the whole thing was, saying that it was definitely right up Michael’s alley. He ignored the closeness between him and his friend as best as he could, but he still shuffled in his seat awkwardly.

“Hey uh, Frank. I’mma go to the bathroom real quick, stretch my legs n shit.”

“Aight, see you in a minute homie.”

His walk to the bathroom felt stagnant, and when he got there all he could do was look at himself in the mirror. What the fuck was his problem right now?

“Get it the fuck together LD. It’s just Frank, it’s nothing weird. Chill out.” He spoke aloud to himself.

He splashed water in his face and walked back to the room showing Meltdown. The movie was almost over and Franklin didn’t make anymore comments. Lamar sighed inwardly, just wanting to get out of there already, despite the whole going-to-see-a-movie thing being his idea to begin with. He didn’t know why he was feeling the way he did right now, and he didn’t know how to make it go away. Franklin leaned over to whisper in his ear once more, sending a chill down Lamar’s spine.

“Dog, this movie sucks and it’s almost over anyway, you wanna just get out of here?”

“Uh.. yeah, yeah. Chop’s prolly missin’ us right now anyway.”

Lamar drove them back this time, driving a lot faster than he should’ve been.

“Woah, homie slow down! What’s the fuckin’ rush for?!”

“I jus’.. Ion know I’m not feelin’ too hot right now and I really jus’ wanna get back to yo place. Maybe lie down or sum’..”

“That ain’t gon’ happen if we get in a fuckin’ car wreck though!”

He slowed it down a bit hearing Franklin’s concerned tone, frustrated by that feeling again. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. They pulled up into Frank’s driveway, Lamar nearly knocking over his recycling can, earning another disgruntled comment from Franklin.

“You been actin’ so weird bro, what’s goin’ on?”

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe the food we had jus’ not sittin’ right wit’ me.”

“Well, like you said go lie down or sum’. You wanna sleep in my bed for now? I’ll go take care of Chop or-“

“Uh sure, aight. I’mma go.. do that.”

Franklin looked at him like he had two heads, lifting a brow up in suspicion.

“Aight then, holla at me when you feel somewhat better.”

Lamar basically ran down the stairs to Franklin’s room, closing the door tight behind him. He slid down the door, looking straight ahead. Why did he feel so- so weird right now? He had a pleasant day overall with his best friend, what could possibly be bothering him?? He tossed his head back, making a small thud sound against the door. Groaning out loud, he did a walkthrough of today. He drove to Franklin’s, wanting to see the sunrise. Nothing unusual, this was a common thing they did. The sunrise was pretty, and lit everything up wonderfully. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. Franklin wasn’t entirely a buzzkill when they made it there, if anything he looked tranquil, the sun making his brown eyes glow. Then what? They got food, which tasted just like how he remembered from when Frank and him were just teens. Went to a movie which they basically talked the whole way through, Franklin continuously whispering in his ear. His voice so low and close made him feel hot all over, but it was just because whispering was like that no matter who was doing it. So what the hell was his problem right now? He must not have noticed how long he was in there, because he heard a light tap at the door.

“Lamar? You good homie?”

He rushed to stand up, pretending like he just woke from a short nap.

“Uh, yeah dog, doin’ just fine. Think layin’ down helped.”

“Good. You want me to take you home or do you wanna stay here?”

Part of Lamar wanted to stay just to be around Franklin a little while longer. The other part of him wanted to run right out the door. He thought it over, and figured he might need time to himself. He didn’t think he had it in him to be around Franklin after such a strange day. At least, a strange day for him. Franklin was thankful for the fact they had one normal day to hangout without shenanigans on Lamar’s part… besides the way he had been acting up to now.

“I think I’mma jus’ head back.”

“Aight then.”

The car ride back was silent. Lamar felt like the air was suffocating him, like any minute he’d pass out. He shifted in his seat to look out the window, familiar streets coming up. He didn’t want to look at Franklin for some reason, turning away from him.

“Hey, we here.”

He sat up, getting ready to get out of the car, until Franklin grabbed his wrist. Lamar felt like he was burning him with the contact.

“Ay man, what the fuck’s your problem today?”

“I already told you, it was the food or sum’, chill out dog.”

He loosened his grip, looking unsatisfied with his answer.

“Man fine, but if you hidin’ somethin’ from me I wanna fuckin’ know.”

“I’m not, I promise you.”

“You better not be, you mysterious bitch. Remember, you dragged me out of bed to hangout today.”

He winced, feeling guilty somehow.

“Yeah F, I know.”

Lamar looked back at his house, not wanting to get caught in Franklin’s death stare.

“I’ll see ya later or sum’ Frank.”

“See ya homie.”

He turned back, watching Franklin drive away. Torn between a relieved mood, and a pang of loneliness. As he walked inside his house, he slammed the door in frustration. Franklin and him were on the same page- he didn’t know why he was acting the way he was. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he went to a last resort to get an idea of something. That stupid psychic shoutout website that was growing in popularity. At least it was free.

Hello. What brings you to Miss Marcy’s site?

fuck you think, lady. help me out here

What with?

some fuckin explanation for why i feel weird rn

Were you just with a friend?

uh yeah

kinda why i’m here to begin with

I see. How close are you to said friend?

well, he like a brother to me ig? idk

never thought 2 deeply abt it.

A family friend? Hmm… I’m seeing the letter F, or T.

damn, you kinda good. it’s f

Wait a minute, I’m getting another letter. L!

yeah! my name starts with l!

You wouldn’t happen to be… I see it now… Lamar?

woah, you really fuckin good lady.

Well, I know I’m a psychic, but I have a feeling I spoke to your friend already.

you did?

Since when did Franklin visit stupid sites like this? He felt a blush creeping onto his face, wondering if Franklin might’ve been in the same boat as him at some point.

Yes. I think I have the answer to your problem, Lamar

please.

anything’ll help

Are you absolutely sure you want to hear it?

When I spoke to your friend, he didn’t seem too pleased with what I had to say.

c’mon lady don’t be a cocktease rn i need help

Well… okay.

You love him.

uh duh

he’s my best friend

why wouldn’t i?

No, I mean

You’re… *in* love with him.

His jaw went slack. He stared blankly at the screen. What?

the fuck?

uh no

ain’t no way.

I’m seeing a long time friendship. Lots of pining.

you ain’t seeing shit lady

u got it wrong

I knew you would say this - you can be mad at me all you want, but think it over

seriously, just think it over.

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself.

“Fuck!”

He tossed his phone across the room onto his worn down couch. That didn’t solve his problem. If anything, it just made it worse. Love? Franklin? Him? What the fuck was that bitch smoking? He threw his palms over his face, groaning. He didn’t wanna think about what the fuck she meant. Because there was no way in hell he was in love with Frank. He couldn’t be. That was his day one. His best friend. That would be wrong, right? He paced around his living room, mind racing too quick for his liking. That couldn’t be the explanation for today. No way. That’s just ridiculous. There’s no way… no way he-

Then he thought about it. Like, really thought about it. The gears in his head were running at full speed now.

“Oh shit.”

//end of pt 1!!!!! this is already long as is, and i think i’m gonna finish it in another part or so. apologies for any grammatical errors ofc 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

[firstofficerwiggles]

Sending a Message

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: T, there are sexy situations, i.e. touching, but no actual sex, one use of the f-word, but mostly fluff and some longing

Summary: Basically, you and Din are in a cantina and you need his help to get men to stop hitting on you. You have an established friendship with him but neither of you have expressed your true *romantic* feelings. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2900ish

Author’s note: I love fanfiction and have been reading it for a looong time now, but I finally decided to take the plunge and write one myself. What can I say? Din is very inspiring. It’s very self-indugent and I hope you like it. 

I wrote a Part 2 to this story (18+ version) (T version)

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The child is a sticky mess having eaten his way through a bag of ripe berries as you were trying to keep him occupied so the Mandalorian could suss out information for others of his kind who might know where to find the Jedi.

It’s been roughly three months since you joined the Mandalorian’s crew to help out with the child. You were enamored with the sweet little green baby the moment you saw him with Din in that marketplace back on Tatooine. Stressed and exhausted, Din let you pick up the child and entertain him while he loaded supplies on to a cart. You accompanied the two of them around on the rest of their errands that day, offering helpful advice and somehow gaining the Mandalorian’s trust fast enough to have him offer you a job as the child’s caretaker by the end of the day. You surprised yourself with how quickly you agreed to the arrangement, but in the end, you knew there was nothing left for you on Tatooine but memories and an empty house.

So now here you were, fairly content with your role as nanny to the child, although not quite prepared for how risky travelling with the Mandalorian could be. There were days when you could not believe the situations you found yourself in, yet through it all, you knew you had made the right decision. This was largely in part to the Mandalorian himself. There was just something so undeniably compelling about him. He was an execptional hunter and frankly, a deadly assassin, but he always seemed willing to put his violent skills towards a good cause, no matter how hopeless it may have seemed. But yet, no matter how lethal he could be, he was also so heartbreakingly soft and gentle with his small son, demonstrating a fierce protectiveness that had spread to you too. At first, the Mandalorian wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but little by little, you had begun to get to know him and had fallen into an easy friendship of sorts with him. All well and good, but, the more you knew about him, the more you started to feel an attraction to him. It started slow, and you played it off as just a weakness for his handsome armor and, let’s be honest, his strong, fit physique underneath all that beskar. But then, he started to share small jokes with you, ask you more about yourself, and reveal details about his own life, including his name, Din Djarin. After that, you really couldn’t deny your feelings, but you kept them to yourself not wanting to upset the contented balance you had achieved nor wanting to put him in the uncomfortable position of having to turn you down. Still though, the longing was there, even when you tried to distract yourself.

“Wow, look at you! I think we have a new record, kiddo.” Din has made his way back to you and is gently teasing his son. He scoops him up into his arms and the child coos with glee but also puts his berry-smeared hands all over his father’s shiny armor.

“Oh no! I thought I’d have a chance to clean him up before you returned.” You apologize a little embarassed.

“It’s not a big deal; we’ll take care of it.” Din has accepted the messiness of fatherhood in stride, “Let’s head over to that cantina. We’ll get cleaned up and you two can get some food while we’re there.”

As Din heads to the back of the cantina in search of a fresher to deal with the berry mess, you spy two seats at the bar and carefully make your way through the crowd. Several people, mostly men it seems, smile widely at you as you pass. It’s packed in here, but the warmth of so many bodies together is welcome after the blustery wind that had picked up outside. You shed your heavy cloak and drape it over the back of one of the barstools both so you can save the seat for Din and, you think eagerly, give him the chance to see the pretty dress you decided to wear today. It’s one of your favorites but he hasn’t seen it yet, however, with the cooler weather on this planet you were beginning to think you wouldn’t get a chance to show it off. Not that you should be thinking like that, you roll your eyes at yourself and your silly crush on the stoic Mandalorian. You’re just getting yourself settled at the bar when the bartender places a brightly colored drink in front of you. Confused you say, “I haven’t ordered yet.” as he just points behind you to a burly looking man with a scruffy beard. The man is grinning confidently at you,

“My treat, pretty lady! We rarely get strangers like you in here!”

“Thank you,” you demure, “but I really can’t accept.”

“Nonsense! You go ahead and enjoy and then we can get to know each other.” He winks at you.

“Maybe she’d prefer one of these,” another man has sauntered over, this one a lanky man with a bottle of something in his hand, “I think she might prefer something with more of a bite to it.” His entendre not lost on you, you hold up your hand and shake your head to fend him off when yet a third man tries to get your attention,

“Don’t let these bozos tell you what you want; I’ll get you whatever your heart desires!”

“I can buy my own drink, thanks,” you cut him off, turn back to the bartender, and manage to order your own drink and some food for you and the child, but this last guy is persistent and sleezy, coming over and perching himself on the barstool you were saving for Din. “Hey, I’m saving that for my…” what should you call him? “friend,” you finish lamely.

“Well, no problem, I’m looking forward to meeting her too.” he waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. Giving him a sarcastic glare, you retort, “I don’t think he’d be interested.”

Things are starting to get out of hand, but thankfully, Din has spotted you amongst your crowd of admirers and with a small, rather amused tilt of his helmet and a bit of a shove, he’s now by your side with the child cooing happily from his satchel. “How about a booth?” he suggests, and you swear you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Great idea” you reply, hopping down from your stool and snatching your cloak back from the other one.

“Oh c’mon baby, that tin can can’t make you happy like I can” the guy who rudely stole Din’s seat calls after you. Your face erupts in a blush and you hope to hell that Din didn’t hear him amidst the noise of the cantina. The other men voice their frustrations too at your departure. You put your hand on Din’s bicep steering him away from these guys just in case. You don’t need Din starting a bar fight over you. You’re still holding his arm and following Din closely when yet another man comes up to you,

“This Mandalorian isn’t bothering you, baby, is he?” this idiot dares to ask.

“No. He is not.” you grit out as Din says, “She’s fine.” in his best don’t-fuck-with-me voice. It’s lost on this drunk fool though as he just lets out “Woo hoo! She sure is!” and tries to slap your ass, but thankfully you dodge him just in time.

You’re starting to doubt the wisdom in coming into this cantina but now that you’re making it to a booth with Din, you figure you should be all right. The booth has a curved seat following the shape of its round table and as Din places the child in the middle of the seat, he sits down to his right. You slide into your side of the booth opposite Din but before you can get fully seated, a man from the booth right behind you leans over, grabs your wrist and leeringly says, “I got a much better seat for you, mama.” and gestures to his crotch. Repulsed, you slap his hand away and head over to Din’s side of the table. That creep was disgusting but he did give you an idea.

“Will you do me a huge favor?” you ask Din, “Always” he replies instantly. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you climb into his lap while sliding one arm around his neck and then bringing your other hand to rest on his cuirass. You can sense his surprise, yet his arm wraps around your waist instinctively.

“Play along, please?” you whisper to him.

“What are you doing, exactly?” he wants to know.

“Sending a message.” You tuck your head in closer to his in a clearly affectionate way and place a kiss on his helmet where his cheek would be.

“What message would that be?” Din asks still a bit stunned by your actions.

“That I’m yours.” You pause as he absorbs this and then you tell him quietly, “I need you to be a little handsy.”

“Handsy?” he tilts his helmet at you “This feels like a trap.”

“No, I want you to. Be handsy.” You tell him again.

“Ok” he drawls out, “but don’t punch me.”

“I won’t.” You flutter your lashes at him to give the impression to this room of horny strangers that you’re flirting with Din.

Din gives a tiny shrug that you can feel more than see but then brings his free hand up to your face. His gloved hand slowly strokes your cheek as he then lets his fingers trace over your jaw and then down your neck and chest, slowing down even more as he reaches your cleavage and then just gently ghosts his fingers between your breasts before resting his hand just beneath them. You feel your breath hitch and get caught in your throat at the intimacy of his touch and you have to remind yourself that this is just for show, just to get these losers to stop hitting on you. Reminding yourself of the message you want to send, you wonder if this is too subtle. You need to make this definitive.

“Be a little more obvious,” you tell Din, the blush returning to your cheeks, I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“More?” Din tries to confirm, “What do you have in mind?”

“Put your hand up my skirt.”

“Ok, now that is definitely a trap.” he chuckles lightly.

“Do it. Put your hand up my skirt,” you practically demand.

“Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” he responds appearing to be amused by this whole situation. He takes his hand, starts to play with the hem of your dress, and then slowly starts to slide his hand up your thigh under your skirt kneading gently as he goes. You feel like you are dying, it is so sensual and so exactly what you have been dreaming of for weeks now. You knew he would be good at this and it’s killing you that it’s just an act. You squirm a little in his lap unable to help yourself and you think you can feel his own arousal, but you tell yourself you must be imagining it.

Din cannot believe this is happening, how is he this lucky? When he caught sight of the men hitting on you at the bar, he figured it was inevitable that you’d be surrounded by would-be suitors and he cursed himself for leaving you alone in a place like this even for a few minutes. A quick scan of the room showed him that you were absolutely the most beautiful woman there. Not that he was surprised, as he’s rarely seen anyone as stunningly gorgeous as you in his opinion. Plus, given this sexy dress you have on, he’s lucky he didn’t have to pry one of them off you. He noticed it right away before you left the ship earlier and had to put on your cloak, but he was hoping to keep that sight to himself. He knows he shouldn’t think of you that way, but he has given up trying to ignore his feelings for you. It’s not just your beauty, but who you are as a person. He’s never met anyone who’s so easy to talk to and who treats him with such respect and kindness. It shocks him how strongly he trusts you and the way he’s let down his guard around you. You might not realize it but you are the best friend he’s ever had, and although he wants more, he’s not quite ready to risk your friendship. If he messes this up, you might see him as just another jerk hitting on you.

Speaking of, Din figured his intimidating presence would keep the jerks away once he got back over to you, but these fools had clearly never met a Mandalorian before because they didn’t have the good sense to leave you alone even when he was standing right next to you. He had been sure he was going to have to punch the creep that grabbed you but then you were sitting in his lap before he had a chance to stand up and defend you. And now, now, he was cuddling with you in the middle of this crowded cantina, touching you in ways he hadn’t let himself dare to think about. He didn’t need the child’s powers to feel the waves of sheer envy coming off of the men in the room. He smirked to himself under his helmet, letting his hand slide up even higher on your thigh than he would have dared but just because he could.

You are becoming entirely swept away by Din’s ministrations on your thigh, and you hear yourself sighing his name, making him smile even more unbeknownst to you.

“Hmm?” he responds gently

“I--,” but you’re cut off by the waiter finally bringing the food.

“Here’s your order, sir” the waiter gives Din a look that is both impressed and jealous as you hide your face in Din’s neck mortified that you have gotten so carried away with this charade.

“Thanks.” Din tells him, slowly removing his hand from under your dress. You slide off his lap into the booth next to him so you can eat. Din keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulders though and you’re still pressed up against his side. You turn away slightly towards the child who has been amusing himself somehow all this time. You give yourself a chance to regain your composure as you focus on giving him some food. You had started to forget the kid was even there and you feel your face flushing again at your shameless behavior. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that this was necessary, and as you glance around the cantina, you can see that no one is paying attention to you anymore. Your message was clearly received. You sigh to yourself and start to eat your dinner.

Din is relaxed and is enjoying the feel of his arm around you. Every so often, his other hand finds its way to your forearm and brushes over your wrist and hand, not quite trying to holding your hand but almost just to remind you that he’s there. It’s flirtatious and romantic in a way that you both love and can’t stand because you know you just want him to keep doing it. You finish your food slowly trying to find a way to prolong this interlude as much as you can, even if it’s not real. Din notices when you’re done though and says, “Ready to head back to the Crest?” You nod at him, knowing it’s for the best and figuring he must be hungry too. You pick up the child and slide out of the booth following Din. He takes the baby from you and secures him in his satchel before reaching back to take your hand. Din threads his fingers through yours and leads you out of the cantina before the jealous eyes of all the other men who tried to claim you for their own earlier. He holds your hand all the way back to the ship and you let yourself bask in the moment, imagining the two of you as a real couple.

Once you’re back on the ship, you busy yourself with putting the child to bed. He’s already drowsy and practically asleep when you get him secure in his hammock. When you turn back around, Din is just watching you, standing there. You can’t imagine what he’s thinking. You suppose you should give him some privacy, let him have a chance to eat his own dinner, but before you do, you figure you ought to say something after all that.

“Thank you, for doing… for helping me out,” you feel rather flustered and it’s making you babble, “back there.” “I just couldn’t get those guys to bug off.”

“It was my pleasure,” he responds rather cheekily, “I figured I was going to get into a bar brawl, but I liked your idea a hell of a lot better.” He tilts his helmet at you and you can swear that you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, thank you, again” you say softly. He steps closer to you and you’re practically touching him as he looks down at you and says with a chuckle, “Any time you need me to feel you up again, just let me know.”

And before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “I will.”

He laughs and tips his head down to you, “Message received.”

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[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: Pre-ChuuRanPoe (Ranpo caught feelings)

Word Count: 1,548 Words

Summary: Ranpo and Carroll play a game.

Warnings: Seizure Mention, Cursing, Drug Mention, Innuendo Mention, Assault Mention, Death Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

How Poe Stumped Ranpo: Chapter 13

Carroll had asked his presence again. The rest of the agency, of course, denied. But Ranpo agreed. They needed the location and, if he could get it out of him, they could find their friends quicker. At this point, quicker wasn't feeling like an option.

"Welcome back. I was told you wouldn't visit. I was sure it'd be that bozo, Dazai, again."

"Well, you gave me a seizure, you can't blame them for their hesitance to let me back here." He wouldn't lose this time.

"Yeah, my bad, I cheated." Carroll laughed a bit.

"Let's play a game." He insisted.

"What game?" Ranpo set the bottle of sprite on the table.

"Akira said this is what you gave them, I had him put some cantaloupe flavoring in it, since melon my favorite flavor of ramune. It must help your ability if your victim already tasted something, so I'll take a drink of it every time you tell me something about this case if you answer my questions." He told him.

"Now that sounds like a plan. Let's play." Carroll giggled with glee.

"Why did you take them?"

"Ooh, a long answer, I like it." Carroll smiled that toothy grin, he hated seeing it, but it would get him his best friend back.

"Your bitch was a test. I needed to make sure I could get someone out of the bar without being caught right off the bat. Couldn't have that happening." Ranpo now refused to look at that man's dark smile, it was creepy.

"You should've heard him crying. He cried for you, you know. That's how I knew your name." He was trying for a reaction Ranpo refused to give.

"Jun'ichiro's mother was my ex-wife. Kuragoro took her from me, I killed him last round of the drug. Naomi looked so much like her father, I decided to use our drug on her and kill her like having her killed my Seki. And Jun'ichiro. Oh, that boy looks like like his mother, so having him around was like having Seki to myself again." Ranpo took a shaky breath.

"That kid we took for his power, sure, but Anderson wanted a kid too after I got Naomi, so I had to really look the night I took him. That kid was so cute crying. He's probably still is." Carroll taunted more.

"Then that traitor, Tachihara. He was gonna snitch so I had to take him. Anderson had fun with him." The blonde smiled in a way that send chills through Ranpo's spine.

"How's he a traitor?" Carroll looked at Ranpo's steady voice.

"He's a member of the Hunting Dogs, a spy against the Port Mafia. He came by a bit before we took him and Anderson walked in on him talking to our guinea pigs. Anderson knew he'd snitch so he had me take him while he was drinking at the Crimson Bullet. Silly boy walked right into the trap." Ranpo wouldn't give him the reaction he wanted.

He calmly took a sip of the soda, fingers shaking, like he was signing his own death warrant. He probably was, given he didn't have a way to stave off the symptoms like Dazai did. The light in the room felt too bright and his stomach ached.

"I'm doing an easy drug, you know. I want you here longer than last time. Have you ever been high on MDMA? I've heard it makes you want to be touched. You'll be begging me to help you when we're done." He was right, his skin itched to be touched. He was also feeling warm, his clothes were too warm.

"Go on. Keep going. I still haven't gotten a whole answer for my first question." Ranpo urged him. He couldn't handle two drinks at once, he needed at least a minute to recover.

"Oh, I like you. Resilient, unlike that Dazai, making my ability useless. You must like my ability." Carroll sure sounded like he was winning, but Ranpo held the control still.

"Those Decay of the Angels idiots betrayed us, but then they still met up with me. And I couldn't just take one, the other two would have come to take the other so I took all three. Beating Fyodor within an inch of his life was the most fun I'd ever had. He had fight in him. Tried defending his allies until I kicked his head into a wall three times."

He could imagine that would be something he'd go through for his allies, some would argue that's what he was doing, trading his safety for information that could give his friends safety.

"As for those two other dogs, Fukuchi got suspicious of them and then they came right to us. Oh, Suehiro is so pretty, I miss him. Jouno was all Anderson's prize, he likes blondes, as you can tell." Carroll gestured to himself.

"Nakahara, I wanted my turn. Anderson's bragged about him for five years, I wanted to see what all the hype was about and get my turn with him. I'd have killed him and left him in front of your office, since I feel like he's just as important to you as that bitch of yours Anderson still has. Really, detective, you shouldn't lead on two men at once." Ranpo knew angry fury was burning in his eyes but he couldn't hide it behind a mask when the drug effect was making it hard to focus as it was.

"I'm not leading them on, they're my rivals. Nakahara helped us capture you, even injured and got himself drugged in the process, though we've had our disagreements in the past. Poe is my intellectual equal, the only one I know of to date, at least. His ability and mine are perfect matches. They're both invaluable allies." Ranpo admitted.

"You have to take a drink again, Ranpo." Carroll teased. So he did, feeling his body get warmer and his tongue felt dry even though he had just drank something. His muscles ached and his jaw hurt, the light felt too bright again. Carroll reached across and took his hand.

"See? It isn't that bad." He refused to acknowledge the comfort the touch gave him, how it made his skin stop aching.

"Wha..." He struggled words. He had one last question. "What's the address?" He forced out.

"I'd give anything to see how resilient you'd be chained down to a bed." Carroll's laugh bounced in his head and he shook his head to free his thoughts from that stupid sound.

"I don't like chains as luck would have it." Ranpo glared at him.

"What a coincidence, your friends didn't either. I'm sure that's changed, though." Carroll's hand on his felt tight but his traitorous body deemed it comforting still, he wanted to scratch the skin Carroll touched off.

"Answer my question or I don't take the drink." He threatened.

"Stubborn. Fine. Next to the water, there's a house. It's blue and white because I kept missing my old blue and white house in England when Anderson insisted we stay here in Yokohama. The only light blue and white house on the whole coastline. I'm sure you're smart enough to think we'd change it, but I've grown rather attached to the color and I'm sure Anderson knows, if he changed it now or bought paint to change it, it'd be suspicious."

Ranpo took another drink and his eyes hurt, his skin hurt. Everything was painful but the hand on his own wasn't. He didn't want it to be comforting, he wanted to hate the contact.

"Thank you." He stood to leave only to nearly fall, only for stupid Carroll to grab him from falling and then his head hurt from the wall, lips on his and hands on his hips. He wanted to run and hide but he couldn't even force himself away from the criminal, hands shaking and legs too weak to keep himself up alone.

"Get off." He growled as Carroll forced his way past his clothes and he felt too weak to stop him. He wanted to stop him, wanted to do something about this.

"I wish you'd be quiet. You're too smart for your own good." Carroll hissed. Carroll's hand was over his throat, stopping him from making noise with the crushing pressure that made it hard to breathe. He hated his traitorous body not rejecting Carroll's touch, he wanted to cry.

"Get off the detective!" Oh, he could hug the guards.

"He wants me to, right, baby?" He tried to lift his head even and it felt like too much effort.

"I don't want him." Ranpo insisted, hiding behind the guard's protective form as he got gently pulled away from Carroll, shakily holding into the guard's arm as the guard straightened his clothes for him and the other guard had Carroll against the table by the arm.

"Ranpo!" Dazai. He latched onto his coworker, hiding away from Carroll in Dazai's jacket, shaking with chills like he had a fever.

"We have the location." He managed to Dazai, leaning against him to let himself get led out.

"Are you okay?" He wasn't, he felt like crying with the ghost of that creep's lips and hands on him. He could only choke out a hiccup in response.

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