#nah just kidding I already have more. it's not a choice it's inevitable

[arttsuka]

Werewolf Wendy 💢💥💥💯💥💥💣

Also the twins

The lineart that I also colored digitally (mainly to decide on the final colors)

[spectascopes]

Without a Second Thought - Chapter 2

Undertale Fanfiction (Gen, SFW) No relationships or pairings Tags (from AO3): Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Trust Issues, Sans is a Mess, Good Parent Toriel, Toriel is Frisk’s Mom, Manipulation, Flowey isn’t a great friend, but nobody is surprised, Soriel Lightly Implied, Past Child Abuse, Narrator Chara, Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Crying, lots and lots of crying, Reader is Frisk Link to AO3 version

“You got through the Underground with the help of a ghostly companion nobody else could see, and you made a lot of friends along the way, but Chara didn’t come with you into the sunlight.

Now you have a new mom, and a new family, but no extra brain to help you make the right choices. It might have lasted, too, if you hadn’t messed it up.”

Chapter 1

“Which brand of biscuits would you like, my child?” Toriel asked.

You looked up at the store shelves. It was noon on a Saturday and the supermarket was bustling with humans and monsters alike. 

“THE RED BOX HAS A PUZZLE ON THE BACK!” Papyrus said. “I STRONGLY RECOMMEND IT. EASY WORK FOR A MASTER OF MY CALIBER, AND HELPING THE MOUSE GET TO THE CHEESE IS EMOTIONALLY FULFILLING!”

“nah get the blue kind, they taste better,” Sans said from Papyrus’s cart. He was too big to fit in the seat for kids, so he was just sitting flat in the bottom of it with food piled on top of him, propped up enough against the front that he could get his arms out.

“YOU SHOULDN’T THINK WITH YOUR STOMACH, SANS! SOMEBODY PUT A LOT OF EFFORT INTO THAT PUZZLE!”

“it’s puzzling they didn’t put more effort into the crackers.”

“Maybe… both?” you suggested. Toriel, laughing at Sans’s silly pun, smiled and grabbed one of each box.

“huh. thats one way to do it.”

“I SUPPOSE IF YOU BUY TWO CAKES YOU CAN HAVE ONE AND EAT IT, TOO... THOUGH IT FEELS A LITTLE UNETHICAL.”

“I think that saying is just for things that you can’t buy more of,” you said as you all walked along. Papyrus’s shopping technique seemed to be grabbing random items and hoping for the best as he followed Toriel- list organized and ready- around the store. Sans made a game of putting things into the cart without his brother noticing, so he was covered in miscellaneous junk that would inevitably have to be returned to the right place.

“OH, LIKE FRIENDS! OR LOVE… OR A VINTAGE MTT FIGURINE THAT WAS RELEASED IN A LIMITED RUN BUT A FIRE AT THE WAREHOUSE SCORCHED ALL BUT A SINGLE, BEAUTIFUL RECTANGLE.” Papyrus made doe-eyes at nothing but quickly shook himself from his gay thoughts. “FRIENDS, THOUGH, I THINK THAT’S IT!”

“Yeah, like that,” you confirmed.

“why would you have a friend and wanna eat them, too? that’s pretty weird.” Sans reached over and plucked a package of tortillas from right under his brother’s metaphorical nose. “you don’t wanna eat us, pal… right?” Sans asked with a sly smile. “only monsters that ever wanted to do that were the dogs. they’d’ve done it without paws .”

You smiled as Papyrus groaned loudly. 

“WELL THEY HAD BAD TASTE IN CANNIBALISM CANDIDATES; SKELETONS JUST TASTE LIKE BONES! AND MAYBE SKINCARE PRODUCTS IF THEY ARE ME AND NOT YOU! BESIDES, FRISK LICKED MY FOREARM DURING A ROWDY TRUTH OR DARE AT UNDYNE’S HOUSE SO THEY KNOW BONES DON’T TASTE VERY GOOD!”

“Frisk did what?” Toriel asked. Sans stifled a laugh with a gloved hand while you blushed up at your mom’s piercing stare.

—

You waited until mom was in the living room and sleeping on her chair- it was just about a nightly occurrence and it made you happy to listen to her softly snoring in front of the fireplace.

Tonight you wouldn't get to, though, as you quietly opened the backdoor.

"Finally! Ugh! Is she asleep?" Flowey huffed at once, sticking up his stem as much as he could. It wasn't much. He came to about your thighs.

"She's on her chair, yeah," you said. You had a deep feeling of unease in your chest, but you'd already agreed and you'd be a filthy liar if you said you weren't a little curious. 

"Great! Where's my pot?"

"Uhm, most people call it weed I think-"

"HA HA HA!" he fake-laughed as you reached down beside the door and grabbed the ceramic flowerpot you used to bring him inside and save the floors from Flowey-holes. He paused, an idle smile on his face. "Okay, alright, I guess that was a little bit funny."

You snickered and squatted down- he uprooted himself as much as he could and you dug your hands into the now-soft dirt and scooped him up the rest of the way. 

"We have to be quiet, okay? She usually sleeps for a couple hours but it's only nine, she could get back up," you said as you deposited your seedy friend into his container.

"She's built like a truck, we'll hear her coming," Flowey dismissed.

"Hey-"

"Relax, relax! It's a neutral statement, I wish I was that big." He patted your hand and you picked him up, puffing your cheeks at his insulting statement. Then again, she was pretty large... better for hugs.

You crept back into your bedroom where you had your laptop charged and ready for whatever Flowey had planned. 

"Where's the stuff you said you were bringing?"

"I got it in my roots, it's just a flash drive with some data. As long as you can summon your SAVE we should be good."

Once you were inside with the door only cracked a little- so you could hear your truck mom coming- you sat your friend on the ground where he quickly produced a tiny metal stick, wrapped up in a couple leaves.

You looked at it and frowned. You were really, really not sure about this, and you were growing less sure by the minute. You looked towards the door.

"Hey, I can see those anxious little eyeballs, you can't back out now!" Flowey reprimanded with a leaf-slap to your leg. You sat down further, legs crossed, back against your bed. "You promised!"

"I mean- I explicitly didn’t? I don't think I-"

"Okay but I don't care, I'll be really sad if you do!"

You looked at him. He was pouting, and you could tell this was a little important to him, but he'd also genuinely tried to kill you, so you weren't super keen on indulging every last one of his whimsies. Still...

"I said I'd let you look. That's it," you said firmly. You held out your hands in front of you.

"And that's all we need, friend!" he chirped, vibrating in excitement. "Lemme see it!"

"Shh, it's hard to summon, give me a second," you said as you closed your eyes. Flowey remained quiet.

How to get your soul into the spirit of this... usually it wasn't hard to SAVE, but there was no real reason to now and that made it a little difficult to be determined...

"Your mom... back from dust..." he whispered dramatically.

"Okay, shush!"

-

The thought of having cool powers fills you with DETERMINATION .

-

You opened your eyes and saw the bright yellow light, same as always. You didn't immediately save- and you didn't think you wanted to. No point in it, you were not going to reset no matter what. Having up-to-date save states didn't matter.

"Oooooh," Flowey cooed, turning his head this way and that to look at it better. "Yours is a little different than mine was, it's way yellower. Mine was kinda more... spoiled-milk-colored."

"Ew," you said immediately. You looked down at the flower who was already using his vines to drag your laptop from its place against the side of your dresser.

"Okay, okay, so-" he said as he flipped open the top and fiddled with things, putting his tiny drive into the USB slot. "The game is made up of data, right?"

"Sure. I hate when you call it a game, but sure."

"Not the point," he said, continuing to type with his leaves and a couple little vine tendrils. The way he stuck his stupid little plant tongue out would have been cute if he wasn't being manipulative. "The point is that it's all numbers. Values. I've looked at some stuff I had from my last SAVE- I always kept track of it- and I know what numbers tie to which things."

"Does one of them tie to resetting?" you asked, watching your yellow star. You wanted Flowey to just get on with it.

"Nope, that's something you have to do manually. Just changing a value won't apply it, you have to reboot, essentially."

"I don't understand computer stuff that well."

"Neither do I, but I know what I need to know!" he said, and then he pushed the laptop out of the way enough to look back at the SAVE. "Can you see the numbers?"

"No..."

“Of course you can’t, you have pathetic human eyes," he said, closely observing the SAVE, very intent on it. "I guess magic comes a lot more naturally to monsters- but it’s probably cause I'm a freak abomination, honestly." 

"...okay?"

Flowey looked a moment longer before glancing at the screen. He kept looking back and forth, staring at something in your SAVE that you couldn't see. You were paying more attention to the sound of the fire and snoring and straining to hear absolutely anything else.

"Okay, gimme your finger. Let's alter some numbers."

"You didn't even say what they do?" you whispered. That noise was the fire, right?

"It would just go over your head- it's altering some of your data through the SAVE." He held out a thin vine to you. "I've seen Sans and Papyrus's data and I know how their weird powers tie into their values, so I think I can just poke at yours to give you some, too!"

"Is that safe?"

"They're both fine, aren't they?" Flowey asked. He rolled his eyes. "It's really nothing to worry about, just don't close the SAVE before I'm finished or something will get messed up. It'll only take a minute."

You chewed your lip, looking at the vine. "Flowey, I don't know-"

"Come on, the worst that'll happen is you can teleport like Sans when we're done! Or do that weird... air-walky thing Papyrus does sometimes. That I'm not even sure he knows he can do."

"Can you change it back if it messes anything up?" you asked. Even if Flowey was the monster-… flower you cared about disappointing the least, you still cared a little bit. To be honest, though, you really didn't want to do this.

"Yeah! As long as you don't close me out before I'm done, cause then I won't know exactly what I changed and I don't have the days it takes to copy down a whole SAVE!"

You listened again, but all you heard was the fireplace. The room was cast in a harsh yellow light- if anybody peeked in, they'd for sure know something was going on.

"Frisk, c’mon! This could be really really helpful, and you can't be a wimpy invertebrate your whole life!"

"Okay, fine, just- just do it fast," you said, and you put your hand down for his vine to guide.

You watched the hallway as he used your fingers to change numbers. The shadows fell in such a way that you wouldn't know somebody was out there until they were right outside- Toriel's footsteps were loud enough to hear as soon as she got up, so it was fine. Everything was fine! You felt like crying, but you felt like that half the time anyway. God, you didn't want to do this anymore.

"Okay, just a few more, your hand is sweaty," Flowey said.

You didn't listen to him, just the fireplace. 

Wait. You froze, Flowey no longer able to move your hand around.

Just the fireplace- why had mom stopped snoring?

"Frisk, what the hell-"

A shadow fell in front of the door and a familiar voice sent ice down your spine.

"yo, kiddo, surprise- left my spray cheese in your grocery bag- anyway your mom wants to know if-"

Sans pushed the door open to find you and Flowey cast in yellow, a deer caught in the headlights and a pissed off plant.

"Wh- hey! Ever heard of knocking, dude?" Flowey yelled.

Sans didn't say anything. He’d looked at Flowey for only a moment before-

He was looking at you. He was looking at you- right at you- expression starting on shock, to fear, to- to-

You burst into tears and shut your SAVE at once.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Flowey- he- I'm sorry, please-"

"FRISK! I told you not to close it, what- I didn't finish! Fuck, no, this isn't good-"

"were you gonna reset?"

The lights in his eyes were gone. You felt like your gut was collapsing in on itself- why was Sans here? Why him? Why him? You didn't care about Flowey or your SAVE.

"No! No, no I swear- he just- he wanted to look at it a-and try to change some- some data or-"

"just curious, huh?" he asked, the anger- the betrayal- so clear on his ever-smiling face. The nonchalance of the accusation only made it worse. "just kinda messin' around, hoping for the best?" You'd never seen him look like that and you thought it would kill you.

"Shut up, Trashbag, this is serious!"

"yeah. it is."

"I didn't- I didn't mean to-"

Sans closed his eyes. This couldn't be happening. This was the one thing he was sensitive about- the one single thing you knew would make him genuinely upset-

"look, kid. you do you, break your promises, whatever, but. but keep me and my brother out of it, okay?" Sans turned around, his words harsh and his voice tight. "later."

"Wait!" you shouted as you lunged towards him, knowing what was about to happen, but he shortcutted away. No no no no- you somehow overshot the lunge and slammed your head into the wall, double-vision letting you see two empty spaces where your friend had just been. 

Where he'd just left you. No. No no. No-

"Shit- that's bad, that's real bad- Frisk, stop fucking crying, I have to try and-"

"GET OUT!" you screamed, putting your hands to your ringing ears. "I don't care, get out!"

"Your data is-"

"GO AWAY!" you sobbed. Flowey started to protest again, but then the sound of pounding feet down the hall started. He swore, and the next thing you knew Toriel was scooping you into her arms. She was talking to you, but your chest hurt. It hurt. Everything hurt so much and you couldn't get enough air into your lungs. It'd been so long since you'd had a panic attack that it felt like you were dying.

The way he'd looked at you- the anger- the hurt- you shut everything out because you didn't know how to deal with this. It couldn't happen here- it couldn't- where would you go? Sans- Papyrus- and then they'd tell- and-

You stayed curled up into a ball until you tired yourself to exhaustion. Mom held you the whole time, cooing, petting your hair. 

Nobody was here to make them like you anymore, and you'd finally messed it up bad enough for them to realize. 

[zodiakuroo]

pierced

idk what to tell you this is just 2k of pussy eating (don’t blame me blame eren brain rot)

18+, minors dni

part 2

“What did you do?!” You say, incredulously. It’s a rhetorical question, you can see exactly what he’s done. Eren stands in front of you, shamelessly, with his pants and boxers dropped to his ankles as his flaccid penis hangs between his thighs. Your attention is mainly focused on the brand new, shiny titanium barbell that goes through the head of his dick.

“Do you like it?” You can tell by his posture and the shit-eating grin on his face that he’s incredibly proud of his newest body modification.

“Why on earth would you get a piercing there?” The bulbous head is just few shades of pink darker than the rest of his pale shaft. You wince in your seat, imagining what it would feel like to stick a needle right through your most sensitive parts.

“Well, it was a dare and Jean bet that I wouldn’t so I had to.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, fully aware of how silly it sounds as he says it out loud.

“Of course.” You mutter. What other chain of events would lead to your boyfriend coming home with a fucking Prince Albert. “Does it hurt?” You lean in just a little closer and notice the little bit of dried blood where the jewelry pierces his flesh.

“Nah. Didn’t feel a thing.” He says with a wink and begins dressing himself again before dropping down on couch next you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

“You’re such an idiot.” You giggle, nuzzling your head into his neck, inhaling the heady scent you’ve come to associate with him.

“There is one thing though.” His voice is softer, lacking it’s usual self-assured tone. He can’t say that he’s happy about what he’s about to tell you. In fact, had he known about this small detail beforehand he might not have gone through with that stupid dare.

“Hmm?” You respond noncommittally, too preoccupied by your current task of leaving gentle kisses on his jaw and giving him the soft affection you know he loves but will never ask for.

“No sex for a month. Piercer’s orders.” His eyes drift down cautiously to gauge your reaction.

You stop in your tracks and frown up at him. At first you think he’s kidding but no such luck. “Oh my god.” You groan. “You’re such an idiot.”

Three days.

A grand total of three days.

It’s sad really, but you should have seen it coming. Like Eren Jaeger’s libido would ever let him go a whole 30 days with no sex.

He blames you and the way you prance around the apartment in those tight, short shorts. How is he not supposed to want you when he has to spend the day watching your tits bounce around in that white tank top, nipples just barely visible through the fabric?

It’s not like you put up much of a fight anyways. The way that man has you wrapped around your finger, all it took was a few well-placed touches and whispers of how much he misses the way you feel and the way you taste. Just like that, Eren has you naked, legs hanging off the edge of the bed with his face buried in your cunt.

“Love this pussy.” He murmurs, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Can’t live without it.”

He knows that he can’t be inside you. He knows. And yet he continues to torture himself because this is as close as he can get to what he really needs.

The rough pads of his fingertips massage your wall making you buck into his hand, silently begging for something deeper. He laps at you with his tongue, running it from your clit all the way down to your hole, licking up the slick that leaks out around his knuckles.

You feel the sparks of pleasure heating up your abdomen and you squeeze your thighs around his head, weaving your hands through his long, mahogany locks. ‘Eren’falls from your lips over and over in breathy mewls that only encourage him to keep going. His fingers put in double time hitting the special spot deep inside you while he seals his lips around clit and pulls it into his mouth. You dig your heels into his back to give you leverage to rut into his face as he pushes you closer and closer towards an inevitable orgasm.

You’re so hot and wet inside, squeezing so tight around his fingers. His mind conjures up memories of how good it felt to have your gooey walls clamping down on his dick and the soft cries you let out as he split you open.

He’s rock solid in his sweats right now and his cock hurts, sensitive tissue swelling and pulsating around his still fresh piercing. But he can’t think about that right now. All that’s on his mind is how badly he wants to be inside you right now. Any of your holes, it doesn’t matter which. But they’re all off limits.

Quite frankly, it pisses him off.

There is no choice but for him to take his frustrations out on your body. He slowly drags his fingers out of you, marveling at the way your needy cunt tries to pull him back in.

Before you can even protest Eren presses his fingers, still warm from your pussy and covered in your cream, against your lips.

“Open up.” He practically growls, voice thick with arousal.

You part your lips in response, letting him clean his fingers off using your tongue. Reflexively, you close your lips around them and begin to suck, moaning at the taste of yourself.

“God, princess.” He pants with his jaw slack. “Want your mouth around me so bad.”

It only motivates you to take his fingers deeper. Deep enough to make you gag as your drool runs down his knuckles while you swirl your tongue around his digits.

The way you look at him doesn’t help either. Usually you’d shy away from eye contact when he makes you do something embarrassing like this, sucking on his fingers like you’re sucking on his cock. But tonight is different. You stare straight at him with that heavy-lidded gaze, eyes glossy and full of want. The frustration is killing him, he can’t stand to look at you anymore so instead he gives his undivided attention to your cunt.

“Babe you wanna know something?” His breath fans over your soaked core, making you twitch in his hold. Something gives you the feeling that he’s not really talking to you, he’s talking to what’s between your legs. Although he’s not even looking at you, you still nod your head yes, so wound up you’ll take anything from him at this point.

“I read online,” He goes quiet for a moment, distracted at the way your weeping hole clenches around nothing, almost like it’s begging for him to fill it. “That dick piercings feel real good in pussy. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Eren bends down to lick at your dripping hole, he slides his tongue all the way down, making sure not waste a single drop, stopping just above the tight ring of muscle making your squeal in surprise.

”Can you imagine it?” He drags is fingers from your lips, leaving a path of saliva down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach until he reaches your clit, rubbing the sensitive numb in slow, steady circles with his thumb while you fist the sheets trying to swallow the sounds he’s coaxing out of you. “How it’s gonna feel inside you? How it’s gonna hit that spot that makes you go dumb?”

Sure, he sounds composed but when you look down at him and see the way his pupils are blown wide, pretty pink tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth, you know he’s imagining it too.

“Gonna drive you crazy.” His calloused fingertips dig further into your pudgy thighs, clipped nails leaving little crescents indented in your skin. “Make you even more crazy for my cock than you already are.”

“Yeah ‘ren.” You gasp as he runs his tongue through your folds. “Wan’ your cock.” You babble mindless agreements at whatever filth he’s spewing, too fucked out and desperate for his cock to care.

Like the bastard he is, he chuckles at your response, satisfied with knowing that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He leans forward and presses the flat of his tongue against your entrance, telling you (wordlessly) what he wants.

Beg

He wants you to beg for it.

And of course you oblige. You chant out ‘please Eren, please Eren, please Eren’ over and over again as if you’ve forgotten every other word.

He rewards for your obedience by pushing the slippery muscle into your hole, nice and slow savouring the way your tart essence covers his taste buds.

“Fuck- more please.” Your back arches off the bed in response but his left hand splays across your abdomen keeping you in place.

His right thumb is still rubbing you, pressing harder, going faster while he drives his tongue even deeper licking up all of your juices like a man starved. He devours you shamelessly, the sloppy sounds only drowned out by your pornographic whining. He thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out, fucking you with his tongue, making sure to taste every inch of you.

Your flavor is addictive, he can’t get enough. He grunts against with his face shoved against you, sending vibrations from your core, right up your spine. His fingers and tongue assault your pussy mercilessly, setting every single nerve on fire.

“Baby- ah- I- I’m close” you whimper, feeling tension brewing in your core, threatening to burst at any second.

“No.” The hand that was playing with your pussy comes down hard on your puffy clit, the sound of the smack echoing in the quiet room.

You let out a cry, so high pitched you can hardly believe it’s your voice.

“Can’t come until I do.” Just like that, he’s off of you completely, leaving you trembling without his touch.

The pain and frustration have tears brimming at your lash line. How cruel of him. To dangle an orgasm right in front of your face before yanking it away. You begin to stammer out pleas, begging him to touch you again, but they fall on deaf ears.

“C’mon princess. ‘S only fair right?” He looks up at you with the sweetest, emerald puppy dog eyes, juxtaposing the lewd way he licks the remnants of your arousal from his swollen lips.

It’s not fair at all. You weren’t the one who decided to get their dick pierced on a whim. Why should you have to suffer? But there’s too much blood in your throbbing cunt and not enough in your brain so you can hardly put together a coherent sentence, let alone argue with him.

“Gonna edge you like this every day yeah?” He shifts his body to hover over you, using his arms to hold himself up so that his nose barely brushes yours and stray stands of his messy hair tickle the sides of your face. “Till I get to fuck you again.” He dips down to kiss you on the lips. It’s barely more than a peck, far too chaste and gone far too soon.

“Christ, I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood, language, brief nudity. Later chapters will be M Warnings: Nah fam Summary: Local vampire finds out she can't kill soft human (because they're soulmates, baby), human becomes insufferable bastard, oops they fuck later. Soulmate AU where if one person gets injured, their soulmate feels the same amount of pain and receives a scar in the relevant area.

1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

It’s not that you had expected to survive this- being locked in the dungeon of Castle Dimitrescu, waiting for the day you’re picked to be someone’s meal. Oh no, you had given up on surviving long ago, it was just that… well, you had hoped that someone with a softer touch would do you in. But here you were, too exhausted to cry, hanging naked in front of none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her eyes were trailing you up and down, examining every inch of your skin, every flaw, every unique trait. It was like she was making a mental map of which parts of you would taste best. Goddamn, you wanted to spit in her face, or scream, or say something, anything that might make her feel even an ounce of what you had felt for weeks.

But you know that she’s already planning to kill you, and to make it painful. Why give her any more reason? Why dare her to find a worse way to end your life? There was no good answer, so you stayed still, just watched her move. Maybe if you looked bored enough she’d make it quick, just stab a knife in you and drink you up like a capri sun. Or, maybe, if you kept a straight face, she would admire your courage. Oh, how you longed for people to think of you kindly now, in your last moments, when dying clean and pretty was no longer an option.

Pulling a blade from some hidden sheathe, Cassandra approaches you with a wicked grin. There’s still blood on her lips from her last victim. Had they not sated her? Or had she been like this for some time? When she inevitably drank from you, how long would your blood remain on her lips? You weren’t sure that you wanted to know. In your mind, you picture her cleaning up as soon as she was done with you. It does not make you feel any better. Neither does the way she traces a finger across your chest, left to right, practicing for the incision to follow. She pauses to lick her lips, making direct eye contact as she does.

What happens next passes by so quickly that you don’t process any of it until the whole ordeal is over. The blade’s tip digs into your chest, just below your collarbone, before dragging along half the width of your torso. It hurts like hell, but you manage to keep your misery to yourself. But your pain is soon replaced with confusion; Cassandra screams, loud enough to echo throughout the basement, doubling over herself. In an instant her knife has clattered to the floor, forgotten. Instinct takes over your brain, the default programing kicking in, and you say something that fills you with instant regret.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a bit quiet, and raw, worn out from lack of hydration. But it is enough, evidently, for Cassandra to hear. She’s rising back up and glaring at you, one hand clutching her chest. Something in her expression tells you that she thinks you’re mocking her. While that wasn’t technically the case, there was a part of you that found joy in this, watching your captor get a taste of their own medicine. The question left in your mind was why she was in pain. “I’ll take that as a no,” you said, again left with regret at your choices.

Now her hand is swiping at your face, nails cutting you open. Once more she hisses in pain, now clutching her head, shaking a little as she does. When she meets your gaze, you see that she’s more confused than anything. More than that, you see the marks on her face, knowing instantly that they match your own. Oh hell no, you thought, grimacing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Cassandra growled through clenched teeth. Bouncing back and forth on her heels, she seems tense, unsure of how to process what’s happening. You feel the same way, desperately wanting to pretend that this doesn’t mean you’re her soulmate. Maybe the universe had just messed up, crossing some wires, or decided to pull a prank on the two of you. Either way it was better than the alternative. Eager to think about something else, you start considering your options. The first that comes to mind is ridiculous. Stupid, really. But would it amuse you? Absolutely.

“Not gonna lie, I feel better about the idea of you killing me now. Feel free to make it painful, darlin’, I won’t mind,” you snarked, lips curling up into a smirk. Oh boy was it satisfying to watch Cassandra’s response. One of her hands raises to smack you, only for her to freeze before releasing a torrent of swears. Hurting you meant hurting herself. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little aching? Haven’t you ever imagined what it’s like to be on the other side of things? Under the blade yourself, blood soaking your skin, eyes too dry for even a single tear? Poor thing,” you purred, tone as teasing as it could get. Apparently it’s aggravating enough for Cassandra to fight through the pain, as she slams her fist into your stomach, leaving both of you gasping for breath. “This is fun-” you pause to cough out a few drops of blood- “really, really fun. Hey, if you kill me, how bad do you think you’ll feel?”

Before Cassandra can react, either to speak or hurt you worse, the sound of approaching footsteps draws her attention. From where you hang you can’t see much, too many cells and hanging bodies blocking your vision. But your “soulmate” seemed to know who was coming. Her face scrunches up a little, and she adjusts her robes, trying to cover the mark on her chest. Had you not still been coughing, you would have sarcastically asked her how she intended to hide her face.

“What the hell is going on, Cassandra?” An unfamiliar voice asked. The footsteps grew louder, and faster, until the new figure stood in the same cell as you. Not even bothering to spare you a glance, she approaches Cassandra, reaching to examine her face. “Did a prisoner manage to get you? I’ve told you a thousand times-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, sis,” Cassandra snapped, pushing away her sister’s hand. Both of them are visibly tense, and for a moment they stand still, staring each other down. Then the sister (who you assume to be Bela, from things you’ve overheard recently) shifts her focus to you. Something tells you that she has no intentions of being gentle.

“Did you do this, you rotten little thing?” Bela questioned, glaring at you hard enough to send a shiver down your spine. But that doesn’t stop you from trying to have some more fun.

“Oh, of course I did! I rattled my chains real good, scared the shit out of her, made her fall on her own knife a few times. You know, like that one musical?” You must look insane as you speak, grin wide but face dripping with blood. If it unnerves Bela, she hides it well, though you doubt it does. As soon as you’re done poking fun she’s pulling out her sickle. Still grinning, you make eye contact with Cassandra, who realizes what’s happening a second too late. Then the two of you cry out in unison, as the blade carves into your shoulder. Instantly Bela pulls back, stunned, turning to her sister with genuine concern. “I might have lied. Rest assured though, it was for comedic purposes.”

The next thing you know the two sisters are shuffling away from you, Cassandra begrudgingly being dragged along by Bela. Though the younger of the two had been adamant about not receiving help, she now had little choice in the matter, skin searing from your blood bond. Even you are starting to breathe harder than you’d like.

“Was it something I said?” You barked, barely able to manage a fit of giggles between your coughing. Bela shoots you a glare over her shoulder, but quickly returns her attention to her sister. They talk, quickly, soft enough that you can only make out a few words here and there. It’s hard to make meaning from it, especially considering their vastly different tones. Cassandra is pure anger, gestures fast and wide, while Bela is oddly solemn, even regretful. When you finally catch a couple full sentences, things start to make a little more sense, though you wish they didn’t.

“We can kill them painlessly, in their sleep. That way you won’t have to suffer,” Bela whispered. She’s doing her best to comfort her sister, despite the tension in the room, gently patting her on the back. Briefly, you make eye contact with her. In that moment she looks equal parts executor and unwilling jury. But she looks away quickly, even shifting her angle to prevent it from happening again.

“No, fuck that, fuck this, I’m… I’m not killing them. Nobody is,” Cassandra growled, daring to emphasize her point by pushing Bela away. Now it’s her turn to look at you, brows furrowed, eyes betraying something more than just anger. Somehow it’s a million times worse than when she first came in. You strain yourself trying to look away, cursing the chains keeping you in place, resorting to closing your eyes and pretending none of this was real. “I don’t care what you think, Bela. They’re already my ‘meal’, might as well get what enjoyment out of this that I can.”

Again, footsteps echo through the basement. Tension locks your muscles in place, and your eyes are still clamped shut, to the point that you don’t realize your chains are being undone until you’ve hit the ground. Cursing under your breath, you finally open your eyes again. There’s blood on the floor, only some of it yours, and you’re suddenly aching for a bath. More than that, though, you’re praying for something to cover yourself with. Certainly Cassandra didn’t need to see everything, now that you weren’t a piece of meat for her to enjoy? As if reading your mind, the middle Dimitrescu daughter flings open a nearby cabinet, messily searching for something. Eventually she gives a hum of approval, then tosses a blanket in your direction.

“Put it on, dipshit, then follow me,” she snapped, already walking away. For a moment you’re tempted to stay there, sitting still, waiting to see how long it would take for her to notice. But one look from Bela sends the thought back to whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of. So you’re moving, hastily, awkwardly wrapped in a somewhat itchy blanket. Other prisoners eye you as you pass, some shouting curses or even spitting at you. At first Cassandra takes no notice, or simply doesn’t care, but eventually the noise seems to irritate her. Turning back, she takes her sickle in hand and slams the handle into the bars of a cell. It’s loud, making you flinch, but gets everyone’s attention. “Next one to make a peep gets the blood eagle!”

“Is that, like, a sex thing?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself. Laughter rings out around you from the few prisoners capable of it. Cassandra is seething again, looking about ready to kill you. Then she’s shifting into swarm mode, spreading out wide, insects barreling through half the occupied cells. A few cries escape the prisoners, as the flies take bites out of them, cutting a perfect balance between pain and (a lack of) lethality. They’d be suffering for days to come, every movement making their wounds ache. “Not a sex thing, got it,” you muttered to yourself, just as Cassandra reforms in front of you. This time she grabs the blanket you’re wrapped in, using it to tug you forward, sending you towards the exit.

“Shut up for five minutes and I might let you put on actual clothes,” she growled, keeping one hand on your back to guide you. The offer is the closest thing to kindness you’ve seen from her, and you have half a mind to do what she says. Would you actually manage to keep quiet for that long? Well, you were certainly looking forward to finding out...

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

[flourgirl]

Even If It’s a Lie

Part I to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter drags you to one of his frat parties, and you realize something you should have a long time ago.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: SO much angst, and lots of pining from Y/N. A couple swear words here and there.

A/N: I liked writing the first one so much that I couldn’t stop when it came to this one! Enjoy :-)

“This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye” -The Last Time, Taylor Swift

“Pete, I don’t know about this…” you said, looking yourself up and down in the mirror. You looked like a completely different person in the short burgundy dress that MJ had picked for you. The shiny satin contrasted with your dirty, white sneakers that hadn’t seen the light of day since you played tennis in the 9th grade.

“Trust me,” MJ had said when she was choosing your outfit earlier that day, “You don’t wanna wear any shoes that you actually like to a frat.”

“Why can’t you go with him again?” you whined, wishing Peter had somebody, anybody else, to accompany him to his “induction ceremony” into Sig Ep. 

“I don’t think I’m what any of those frat guys meant when they said ‘Bring a hot girl’. Plus, you were Peter’s first choice,” MJ replied, nonchalantly biting her nails as you held the dress up to yourself. “That’s the one.”

“I’m not hot,” you sighed as you started to hang the many rejected dresses spread across your floor back onto the rack. “I wore a sweater with a cat on it yesterday. That I hand-knitted.”

“Well... you’re cute. And that’s good enough. Plus, you can keep Parker from getting plastered. You know he’s a lightweight,” MJ laughed, reminding you of the many times Peter had called you to pick him up from a late night of partying.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, still worried about the fact that you did not like parties. Or strangers, or crowds, or really anything that involved socializing with more than four people at a time. Peter had been the same way all throughout high school. That’s what made you guys so close, but... things hadn’t been the same since you started college.

Peter ran from the other room, smoothing the wrinkles out of the gray t-shirt that fit him just right. You saw him grin from behind you in the mirror’s reflection, and he placed his hands on his shoulders, jostling you lightly.

“Y/N! Are you excited! It’s your first college party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around to look him in the eyes. You stared down at your feet, self conscious over how short you felt in your sneakers next to him.

“That’s not true. I’ve been to parties before! Ned’s birthday was just last month,” you reminded him. “Don’t you remember how you watched me bake a cake from scratch and your only ‘contribution’ was eating the buttercream?”

Peter laughed, ruffling your hair like you were his little brother. “No, Y/N, I meant a real party. With booze and music that’s so loud that you can’t hear what someone is saying. That kind of party.” 

Your brows furrowed as you began to fully accept that Peter had changed. So, so much. He wasn’t the dorky kid from Queens that carried your books and watched your favorite animated movies with you just because anymore. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It didn’t take his spidey-senses for Peter to realize how upset he had made you. “Y/N, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just want you to experience everything college has to offer.”

“I think you do that enough for both of us,” you muttered, plopping dramatically onto the couch. Peter followed you, running his fingers gently across your arm as you pouted into a throw pillow. “Couldn’t you have asked any other girl to participate in your frat’s misogynistic tradition?”

“I didn’t want to ask anybody else,” Peter replied. You sat up to look at him, fixing your hair and smoothing out your dress. “I promise, Y/N. I miss you. We never hang out like we used to.”

You rolled your eyes. “And whose fault is that? You’re always—”

“—it’s mine. I know that. So, just come with me tonight and let me make it up to you,” he pleaded, pulling out his signature puppy dog eyes that you could never say no to. “Come on. All you have to do is say the word and we can leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

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

Your nerves worsened the closer you got to the frat houses, not mentally prepared for how loud the music would be or all of the sweaty bodies that would inevitably be pressed against you on the dance floor.

As you approached Sig Ep, Peter gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. He looked deep into your eyes, “Y/N. I meant what I said. All you have to do is tell me that you’re ready to go and we’ll leave.”

“You promise?” you asked, chewing on your lip.

“Promise,” Peter smiled, holding out his pinky to intertwine with yours.

Some tall, buff guy was standing at the doorway and greeted Peter with a fist bump. “Hey, Parker! Good work with the dime! She got a boyfriend?” You recoiled at his attitude towards you. It was as if you weren’t even there.

“Nah, Ryan. She’s off limits.” Peter replied coolly, pulling you inside.

You heard Ryan wolf-whistle from his post, causing you to roll your eyes. “Hell yeah! Didn’t know little Petey had it in him!”

Peter wrapped his arm around you, partly to make you feel better, but also because there wasn’t much space for you two to squeeze your way into the kitchen. “Just ignore him,” he said, handing you a red plastic cup, a bottle of Sprite, and a shot glass of vodka. 

You peered up at him, unsure. You weren’t much of a drinker, but maybe, just maybe, it would help you ease up on your nerves. Swirling the liquids together into the cup, you downed it before recoiling from the burn. Cheap vodka sucked, you remembered.

“That’s my girl!” you barely heard Peter say from right next to you, feeling him patting your back before he did two shots himself, swallowing them as if they were water. “Come on, I have some people who’ve been dying to meet you.”

The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy. He had called you his girl. You gripped his hand tightly as he led you down the hallway and onto the back patio, where a group of people sat crowded around a bonfire. 

A girl with bleach blonde hair and a dark green dress that hugged her figure came running up to the two of you, practically jumping into Peter’s arms as she greeted him. “Peter! I’ve been waiting for you. Come on, you can sit next to me.” 

She pulled Peter towards the bonfire, patting the empty spot on one of the benches next to her. Peter turned to nod at you, gesturing for you to follow them. Once again, it felt like you were invisible to almost everybody at this party.

The blonde girl leaned close to Peter’s face, giggling with an obvious drunkenness. “So, who’s your little friend?” she asked, waving her fingers towards you like you were some kind of pet.

“This is Y/N, my best friend.” Friend. That’s all you’d ever be to him, especially when there were girls like her around.

“Hi, Y/N! I’m Gwen. Gwen Stacy. Peter and I met in our thermodynamics class last semester,” she smiled, showing off her perfectly white teeth. “You should’ve seen him! He made everything look so easy.” You already knew that. Peter could do anything he set his mind to.

“Yeah...” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with her bright, gray eyes, which matched Peter’s shirt. “So, uh, who are you here with?”

“Oh, duh!,” she said before tapping the guy on her left’s shoulder, pulling him out of the conversation he was having with the people next to him. “This is Harry Osborn. We go way back. Harry, this is, uh…”

“Y/N,” you reminded her.

“Right! Y/N. She’s Peter’s friend,” Gwen told him. He nodded his head and offered a small wave before returning to his conversation. Of course, you thought to yourself. Peter had only asked you to come with him tonight because she was unavailable.

You stared back down at your stupid shoes as Peter and Gwen talked about titrations and bond solutions. Things that you knew nothing about. Was this why Peter was always out at parties? To see her? 

You thought about Peter’s promise. Just tell him, you thought. Tell him you want to leave. But you knew that you wouldn’t. You knew that you couldn’t ruin Peter’s fun just because you decided to be a baby and get scared after just thirty minutes into your very first frat party.

Looking back up at Peter and Gwen, who now had her arms draped around his neck, you excused yourself to the restroom, wherever that was. You just needed a break. Peter nodded towards you before turning back to smile at Gwen.

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

A banging on the bathroom door startled you. “Hey, uh, could you, like, HURRY UP? I have to take a piss,” a boy yelled from the other side. You got up from the edge of the bathtub that you had been sulking on for the past five minutes to open the door.

“Oh. Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t know it was you.” It was Flash Thompson. Flash, the guy who had made Peter’s life a living hell in high school. “God, you look good. Hey, how’s about you waiting out here for me and we could, you know, catch up?” He winked at you and you wanted to throw up.

Your first instinct was to say no. How could you give Peter’s bully the time of day? But you thought about Peter and Gwen. Gwen. Gorgeous and smart and better than you in every possible way, who was probably sitting in Peter’s lap by now and running her fingers through his hair. Your heartbeat quickened as rage rushed through your body. You wanted to hurt Peter, like he had hurt you. “Yes,” you replied, before he slammed the bathroom door in your face.

One minute later, you were pulling Flash down the stairs and towards the backyard. “You washed your hands, right?” you asked, desperately hoping that the answer would be yes.

“Don’t worry, babe. I just peed. Everyone knows that as long as you don’t get it on your hands you’re all good,” he mused. “You use less water that way, too. Save the planet, am I right?”

You dropped his hand, mentally rolling your eyes, and continued trudging towards the bonfire. You watched as Peter turned to smile at your reappearance, which swiftly dropped once he saw who you were with. It seemed like Gwen had backed off when you were gone too. Was this some kind of weird, territorial act that she was putting on to prove that Peter liked her and not you?

Maybe you were overthinking, but it was too late to backtrack. You sat back down on your place next to Peter, the awkwardness thick in the air. Flash had decided to squeeze himself between the two of you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

Peter leaned forward and shot you a dirty look, which you immediately recognized as his “What the fuck, Y/N?” face. 

A familiar voice boomed from behind, and you turned around to find Ryan had finally tapped out of bouncer duty to join the festivities. “Who’s ready for Truth or Dare!”

Shit. You hated truth or dare. Peter knew that. Ever since you had been dared to kiss Tyler Rosado in the 7th grade and he laughed right in your face before flat out rejecting you, the game had become a sore spot.

But you looked at Peter, who was cheering alongside the rest of the group, excited as ever to participate in the game that you swore you’d never play again. He doesn’t care, you thought to yourself, not like he used to.

You felt a vibration from your pocket and scrambled to pull your phone out of your jacket. Well, Peter’s jacket. The one he had let you wear on the way here because you were cold. It was a text from MJ. 

“How’s everything going?”

“Not good”, you replied, adding multiple sad face emojis at the end of your message.

“What did that idiot do this time?,” she asked. It was like you could hear her “I’m so going to beat Peter up for this” voice through the screen.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” you sent, before locking your phone and sliding it back into the jacket pocket.

“Alright, alright, alright. So, who’s up first?” You heard Ryan ask, remembering the terrible event that was taking place right before you. “Hey! Gwen, how about you do us the honors?”

“Of course!” she chirped back. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I know you are,” Ryan laughed, causing the crowd of people to whoop and holler around you. “So, truth or dare.”

“Definitely dare,” she slurred, taking another sip from her beer.

“Who’s got a dare for pretty, little Gwen here? Anybody?” Ryan asked, looking around the backyard.

Flash raised his hand. Fuck. Why did you think that it would be a good decision in any way, shape, or form to bring him with you? 

“Gwen, I dare you to make out with the hottest guy here!” he giggled, obviously thinking that she’d pick him. What a dumbass.

She smirked, before turning to Peter. “Gladly,” she said as she moved to press her lips against his. You struggled to watch as they made out right next to you, much to both you and Flash’s dismay. It felt like it had been going on for forever when they finally stopped sucking each other’s faces and the crowd’s cheers died down.

That was it. That was the last straw. You got up from where you were sitting and headed back towards the front door, having had enough of frat parties for the rest of your miserable life. Peter probably wouldn’t even notice that you were gone.

You felt hot tears fall down your cheeks as you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, calling MJ as fast as you could. “Could you come get me,” you managed to choke out. “This—this was a mistake. Please, just come get me.”

MJ asked for your address and let you know that she’d be by in a couple of minutes. You plopped onto the front steps, emotionally and physically exhausted from all that Peter had put you through tonight. 

A few minutes later, MJ’s car pulled up in front of Sig Ep, and she ran out to hug you, gently rubbing your back to get you to stop crying. “Where is he?,” she asked angrily, glaring towards the frat house. 

You pulled her back, sniffling at her, “Don’t. I just want to go home.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with him later,” MJ said, before the two of you got into her car and drove back to the apartment that you shared. Upbeat pop music played on the stereo, which you promptly shut off, preferring to mope with your head on the windowsill, staring out at the cloudy night sky.

MJ unlocked the front door, and you were greeted by Ned and Betty sitting on the living room floor around a Monopoly board. Betty was obviously winning, and Ned was almost bankrupt. 

“Y/N!” Betty squealed, getting up off the rug to hug you. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“It was Peter,” MJ muttered, shooting daggers at Ned.

“What!? I can’t control him,” Ned tried to reason. “Y/N, on behalf of my idiot roommate, I’m sorry for whatever he did this time.”

“It’s okay, guys. I just really want to go to bed, okay?” you told them, heading towards your bedroom.

You kicked off your sneakers and threw Peter’s stupid jacket, which smelled just like him, onto the chair in the corner, plunking yourself face first into the mattress. Ned, Betty, and MJ stood in your doorway, watching the entire thing.

“Yeah… I don’t think she’s okay,” Ned whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

Betty hit him on the head. “Ow!,” Ned replied, rubbing his temple from where she had flicked him.

“Will you all just shut up and leave me alone!?,” you screamed, startling your friends.

“Yeah, of course. Just tell us if you need anything, Y/N. We’ll be right outside,” MJ reassured you, before shutting your door behind her.

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

You woke up the next morning to the smell of blueberry pancakes and maple syrup wafting throughout the apartment. Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you wiped away the leftover makeup from last night and brushed your teeth, ready to forget about everything that had gone wrong yesterday.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Betty sang from the stove, placing yet another pancake onto the already towering pile before sliding the plate in front of you. “They’re for you. Blueberry, with a little bit of cinnamon, just like how you like ‘em!”

You managed to give her a weak smile, before digging into the breakfast she had so lovingly prepared for you. “Where’s MJ,” you asked, knowing that she would never still be asleep past 7 a.m.

“I’m not supposed to tell you…” Betty answered, obviously trying to deflect from wherever their roommate was. “Apple or orange juice?”

“Apple,” you replied. “No, seriously, Betty. Where is she?”

Betty placed the glass next to your plate of pancakes. A heavy silence hung all throughout the kitchen as you realized the only place that MJ could be right now. She was going to kill Peter.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, scrambling to pull your shoes on and running out the door. Betty mentally cursed herself out for not being able to keep a secret, chasing after you down the stairwell.

“Y/N! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop! Please, MJ is just looking out for you!,” she panted from several stories ahead. Betty had no idea when you had gotten so fast.

“Don’t care! He’s my best friend!” you yelled back, before rushing out onto the sidewalk and running across campus towards Peter and Ned’s dorm room. You hated how much you still cared about Peter after all this time. You hated how much you loved him.

As soon as you reached their door, you frantically knocked on it until Ned opened up. “Oh, Y/N, you’re not supposed to be here. Hey, wait—”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence, squeezing your way past him and into their common room. There, MJ and Peter sat playing a game of chess. Until MJ transferred to your school, nobody had ever been able to beat Peter in chess. You scanned the board as they became aware of your presence, and felt a sense of pride seeing that MJ had his pieces tied up to ensure that she’d have a checkmate in five. He’d either have to resign or let her pick off his queen, two knights, and rook one by one.

“Oh,” you sighed with relief, seeing that Peter was still alive. Everyone in the room was staring at you, waiting to see what you had to say. 

“Well. I’m going to head home. See you later, MJ. Bye!” You turned on your heels and headed towards the door, where Ned was standing with his jaw on the floor.

Peter scrambled to his feet as he caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around just as he had done yesterday. “Y/N. Let me explain,” he whispered softly, like there was nobody else in the room. Curse those damn puppy dog eyes. You were better than this. You needed to stick up for yourself.

“Goodbye, Peter,” you said, before breaking free of his grasp and walking out the door, doing your best not to cry in front of everybody.

He started to follow you before MJ pulled him back, uttering a simple “Don’t.”

Walking back to your apartment, you realized that you had been right all along. Peter had changed, and nothing was ever going to be the same between the two of you.

[bigskydreaming]

What kills me in fics is when you have tags going like "Good brother Jason", which, cool, but in the same story there's " Dick TRIES to be a Good Brother" LOL way to switch the dynamics. I also tend to stay clear of the ones where the centric character seems to have a platonic relationship tag with everyone (including the ones where they're antagonists in canon like Jason & Tim) except Dick. You can feel the hate/dislike/prejudice a MILE away.

Yeeeeeeah. You are definitely not alone. Like pretty much every Dick Grayson stan I’ve ever talked to on the subject stays the hell away from any fic tagged “Dick Grayson tries to be a good brother.”

LOL like....it’s basically what I was talking about in that older post I just reblogged a few minutes ago. That thing where Dick’s actions or choices in a canon story or fic aren’t judged on their own merits but are rather inherently weighed against some hypothetical perfect choice that he DIDNT make and so he’s basically evaluated based on how much he falls short of that mark each time instead of anything he actually did.

Sorry not sorry, but I’m just not interested in stories that TRANSFORM the character most commonly referred to as the emotional glue of the family and the only one who consistently even CARES about them all being a family....into the fumbling incompetent relationship disaster man who at best gets credit for at least putting in an attempt at being there for his family.

Especially not when Bruce and Jason and Tim are praised for doing the bare minimum in canon when it comes to family interactions while everything Dick ACTUALLY did is just completely ignored and overwritten in order to make his Failure to People Good the narrative obstacle to be overcome.

Now, the “Dick Grayson Tries To Be A Good Brother” tag applied to Tim-centric fics in particular tho....hoo boy I am out of there so fast there’s a Kool-Aid Man shaped hole in the wall and not a sign of me as far as the horizon.

Like, currently my Pet Peeve Thermostat is set to Battle for the Cowl-referencing fics that don’t use this tag but very much are in that spirit. You probably know the ones, like their summaries suggest they’re open to considering Dick’s side of the situation but turns out the author at most is throwing him a “well at least you tried not to suck” bone while still reading him the riot act for very much still sucking.

Because what drives me up a flipping WALL here in particular, when I naively click on a link that seems different from the usual and ignore the voice of experience because I’m just desperate enough for Tim and Dick food that doesn’t just go on and on about how Dick ruined their brotherhood and it will never be truly repaired....

What makes the fruit bats in my belfry go absolutely B-A-N-A-N-A-S is not just the super fun realization that Psych! You thought this fic might be different but it’s actually the same!

Nah.

It’s how much people, both writers AND commenters, just absolutely LOVE to reference Tim’s shitbag parents and how emotionally abusive and neglectful they were (all true and valid, btw, let’s be totally clear about that)....but bringing them up here specifically to emphasize just how great Dick’s ‘betrayal’ was and how what he did makes him no better than them.

It’s like. Oh. I see.

So because after twenty years worth of stories about Dick dropping everything the second Tim needs him, whether it’s for help or just advice or even just reassurance or comfort or ANYTHING ....because after two decades worth of content showing Dick absolutely doting on Tim in their EVERY SINGLE interaction and buttressing his self confidence at every opportunity, never passing up a chance to call him his brother and emphasize that they’re family and he loves Tim and is so proud of him...

Because after all that there’s a story whose very premise forced Dick to choose between two kids, both still very much his brothers and their shared father’s sons even if one was new to him and didn’t have the same history the other two had....

Because by the very nature of the story Dick had no choice but to prioritize one over the other due to them both hating each other and Dick already being stretched to his absolute limits trying to live his dead father’s life and take on everything Bruce used to do at the cost of giving up everything Dick had chosen for his own life and wants and priorities, all while dealing with his own grief....

And with it being inevitable that the boy he DIDNT choose to prioritize was going to be hurt....

Because after twenty years of never failing to put Tim first the second Tim needed him, never even putting HIMSELF first OVER Tim....because for the first time Dick felt that someone else he felt obligated to, felt a responsibility towards, actually needed him MORE than Tim....

And for that reason and that reason ONLY, Dick picked that other boy, all while trying his best to tell Tim that he still needed him, still valued him, all the things that Bruce DIDNT tell him when he took Robin not even because he thought someone else needed it at the time but simply to take away, with absolutely nothing Dick said in any way negating or contradicting any of his many, MANY assurances to Tim over the years that they were brothers and always would be and with them still very much legally brothers and with concrete ties to each other that declared them family even WITHOUT the connection of Robin....

Because after and despite ALL OF THAT, Dick picked the brother that he didn’t know and frankly didn’t even LIKE, because he knew no one else was going to pick this kid and he also knew he’d already picked Tim a hundred times before and hoped that at least all that HISTORY of past focus and attention he’d given Tim to help build him up, give him foundations to build further upon, that hopefully at least that history that was still there, still relevant, still something Tim had actively benefited and grown from in ways Dick now hoped to help Damian....like surely this would be of at least SOME significance to Tim, SOME kind of proof of how much Dick loved and valued Tim....

Because one time and one time ONLY, Dick DIDNT put Tim’s needs first, not because he didn’t want to or because he was being selfish or short sighted or simply didn’t care, but rather solely because this one time Tim’s needs were in direct opposition with the needs of another young boy Dick saw as his responsibility and in even greater need and with even less of a foundation than the one Dick had helped Tim build....

This puts Dick on the same level as Tim’s shitbag parents, the ones who are infamous for (and practically synonymous with) emotional abuse and neglect. Dick’s basically interchangeable with them now. Certainly no better than them. Tim’s entire emotional well-being rested on Dick and Dick alone and nothing he’d provided Tim with in the past counts, just this one moment in time right here right now, that’s the entirety of their relationship see, it all comes down to this and nothing else, and because Dick didn’t put Tim first, no matter WHAT his reasons or how much he wanted to, he has officially failed Tim as hard as the neglectful parents who did nothing BUT neglect, ignore and just not give a shit at all, simply because they couldn’t be bothered to.

Yeah.

That’s neat.

[lonelier-version-of-you]

I’m not quite sure what to make of that episode.

Granted, I may have been biased against it from the start. Any episode that comes after a Dylan/Paula-centric one is an episode that has to follow a very tough act indeed.

I also simply feel that an episode focused on a staff member’s decision whether or not to continue her pregnancy is not the sort of thing I really want Casualty to be doing. Every now and then, yes. Something like Jade’s centric episode, which was very staff-focused, worked because it happened in the midst of other episodes that had actual patient storylines. But when we’ve had a lot of episodes in recent months (the episode where Faith The Domestic Abuser - and yes, I refuse to stop reminding you all that she is one - got robbed by the creepy bloke is a good example) where patient storylines have been pushed to the sidelines in favour of centering the staff members’ drama... it’s hard to get behind an episode focused almost entirely on a staff member, because it’s not going to be much different from many regular episodes these days.

I also felt the episode just tried too hard to be artsy. They needed to calm down a bit with the special effects and voiceovers.

Having said that, there were certainly elements tonight that I really liked. Amanda Henderson’s acting was fantastic. Robyn may be a bit bland as a character, but Amanda can act like hell when they give her the right material. Remember how good she was in the storyline with Glen? She was very good tonight as well. First storyline they’ve given her in ages and she certainly gave it her all.

I thought Robyn having to work through having an abortion because she needed all the money she could get was a very powerful writing choice. For once, Casualty giving a staff member a health crisis instead of, you know, just doing a regular patient story actually worked, because tonight it was actually used to make a point. Characters on this show go on a lot about being “overworked and underpaid”, but tonight they finally decided to show that, not just tell.

Speaking of which, I really wasn’t expecting them to let Robyn actually go through with the abortion, so kudos to Casualty for that. I have mixed feelings about how they handled it, but I think perhaps my issue is not so much with this particular narrative. It’s with the lack of abortion stories that actually get told in these kinds of shows in general. It feels like you never see a story where a woman has an abortion just because she wants to - it always has to be for some big, dramatic reason, otherwise she’ll only consider an abortion and then inevitably change her mind. (Still haven’t forgiven Emmerdale for the story where Laurel totally wanted her baby... until she found out it would have Down’s Syndrome, and then she was like “nah, I don’t want it now actually”.) Robyn going through with an abortion because she can’t afford to bring up another child isn’t a bad story. It’s just that it’s a shame we never seem to get stories where it’s simply about the woman deciding not to have a(nother) kid because she just doesn’t want one.

Am I making sense? I’m feeling quite tired today so I might not be making sense. I did like that they at least acknowledged that situations where the woman is sure abortion is the right choice exist - Paige talking about what she’d do if she got pregnant.

Talking of Paige. I already liked her but I officially love her now. She was great tonight. She’s gone from a bit exaggeratedly useless in her first episode to someone who isn’t quite sure what she’s doing yet but genuinely wants to be, and has potential to be, a good doctor. I love her. And I loved how supportive she was to Robyn.

I wish they’d done more with either of the patient storylines, but then I guess they weren’t really the point of the episode.

Dylan got maybe 3 minutes of screentime tonight, but they were great, as always.

Also, whoever cast the little girl who plays Charlotte deserves a promotion. Seriously. Have Casualty taken on whoever’s been responsible for all the brilliant family castings on Holby these last few years? (Guy Henry and William Postlethwaite + Dawn Steele and David Ames were two incredible parent-child castings.) Because the kid playing Charlotte looks SO MUCH like Amanda Henderson, it’s amazing.

Next week, we get Faith scenes. Sigh. But we also get a proper storyline for Sah, finally. Heck yeah.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXX

February 11, 2278.

Ten fifteen in the evening.

I loaded my shotgun and watched the rear, gunfire bursting as the tin cans yelled. This was supposed to be a stealth operation. If only DeLoria hadn’t tripped on that one guard…

Truth be told, this was an absolutely fucking stupid plan. Taking away a comatose patient from the Citadel isn’t the brightest idea DeLoria and I came up with, but we had no other choice. Whatever secret about Percy that Dr. Li wanted us to protect, it seemed important. Seeing how Lyons figured out that she’s a living atomic weapon, I understand her.

DeLoria looks goddamn constipated as he helped me push the gurney with my partner in tow, secured with leather straps so she wouldn’t fly off. In the front, Fawkes soaks up most of the damage.

Of course we had a Plan B if the stealthy approach didn’t work. Thank fuck Fawkes is willing to cooperate, too. This wasn’t the first time we worked together to help Percy out of the tight spot. Then again, Percy got us out of our predicaments first. Knowing her, when she wakes up, she’ll scold us for risking ourselves for her, and for coming up with this awful plan.

Too bad. She can’t stop us now.

“Charon, what now? I only brought a pistol,” Butch yelps, narrowly missing fire.

“We’re gonna let Fawkes soak up the brunt of the gunfire, and we keep pressing forward and watch his six,” I grunted in return.

“Shit, this is a bad idea man! What if they hit Percy?”

“That’s why we’re fucking here to shield her! Are you scared of a little gunfire, DeLoria?!”

The younger man gulped and kept pushing. Our group kept pushing forward, already at the courtyard. How we managed to pull this off is beyond me. I expected to be dead right now.

“Hold your fire!”

Whoever issued the command is old, judging from their voice. Almost immediately, the tin cans stopped shooting.

“Father, what’s the meaning of this?” a more feminine voice called out. “They’re kidnapping a comatose patient! An honorary member of the Lyons Pride! I-”

“Sarah, please, enough. I’ll talk to them,” the Elder says, emerging from the crowd.

Another one of the tin cans interrupts. “Elder, they let in a Super Mutant in Citadel grounds! We-”

The old man gives the soldier a stern gaze, and he backs off. Coming face to face with Fawkes, the elder looks up, a neutral expression on his face.

“Please explain the meaning of this.”

DeLoria rushes over from the rear, facing the old man. “We’re getting our friend out of here! Clearly you assholes haven’t been doing her any good, so we’re transferring her to another hospital.”

“Another hospital?” the younger Lyons interrupts. “Listen kid, the Citadel is one of the few places on the Wasteland equipped to handle Zhou’s injuries.” Armor clinking, she marches towards the greaser, a livid expression on her face.

“What makes you think that whatever ‘hospital��� you’ll be transferring her to is equipped to help her, huh?”

A shouting match erupts between those two. Before things get ugly, Elder Lyons intervenes again, placing himself in front of the greaser and his daughter. Grumbling, I reach out and pull DeLoria back.

“I’ll take it from here,” I griped, and shoved past Sarah Lyons. I came face to face with the Elder, and I folded my arms.

“Before she left, Dr. Li told us she doesn’t think that whatever tests you’re running on Percy isn’t for her best interests. Percy trusted that doctor, so I trust her.”

Blondie scoffs, about to go off on us again, but she stops in her tracks, looking at something, or someone, behind us.

“Then, why don’t you ask Zhou herself, if she wants to stay here or not?”

My eyes widen, and I turn around and see Percy, sitting up on the bed, her restraints loose. I checked again, and no, they weren’t loosened. They were pulled away from the bed, and she’s gripping the leather straps.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Percy,” I mumble, taking slow, tentative steps towards her.

She’s looking blankly ahead, eyes glassy. No. Oh no.

What the fuck is happening?

Rough and calloused, my fingers brush against her arm, and her eyes flick towards me. “Percy? Are you there?”

Letting go of the leather strap, her small hand grips mine, and she exhales sharply, panic rousing within her. Through her hospital gown, I see a sickly green glow pulsing below her throat, at her chest.

Barreling her way through, Sarah Lyons points a minigun at my partner, ready to fire.

“Everyone, get back! She’s going to blow!”

“No!” I screamed at her, and instinct kicking in, I scoop Percy’s frail body in my arms and started to run to the exit.

“Move, fucking move aside!”

My lungs are burning as I run through the Citadel gates, Percy still pressed to my chest, unnaturally warm to the touch. Fawkes is following closely behind, footsteps pounding.

Away from the people, I gently laid Percy to the ground, the green glow emanating from her searing now, and covered her body with mine. If I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go holding her.

Screwing my eyes shut, I wait for the inevitable.

Instead, I was pulled aside, and Fawkes crouches over Percy’s body, careful not to crush her.

A bright, blinding light flashes from Percy’s body, and Fawkes covers her completely. Her body erupts, heat and energy bursting outwards, and Fawkes just absorbed all that. I watched the explosion barely made a dent on the mutant’s thick skin, and the mushroom cloud that billows towards the dark sky.

He pulls back, and Percy lies there, hospital gown in tatters.

I rushed to her side, checking for breathing, and felt my heart drop as I heard none.

“We need a medic, get a medic!” I snarl at the bystanders who witnessed the entire ordeal. After the initial shock has worn off, DeLoria weaves through the crowd and runs towards us, kneeling beside Percy.

“Shit man, shit! She’s not breathing, she needs CPR, oh my fucking God I don’t remember how to do it,” he babbles, tears pooling at the edge of his eyes.

Gnashing my teeth, I try to remember whatever first aid I learned from observing Percy in the past. I pulled away Percy’s hospital gown, and with my palms together, I pressed between her nipples, pumping and hearing her ribs crack underneath her skin.

I tilt her head, pinch her nose, press my ruined lips against hers, and blow. Twice.

Then, I go back into giving her chest compressions, and I look over my shoulder. I must’ve looked so feral at that moment.

“Where the fuck’s that medic?!”

I turned back to my partner, and after another set of compressions, I breathed into her again.

“Percy, remember what you told me when you got captured by the Enclave, huh?!” I rasped, gritting my teeth.

“Well, it’s your goddamn turn to listen to me now!”

January 14, 2278.

Fingers clacking on the keyboard, Percy hacked away at the terminal. Once given access, she terminates the hostile creatures in the other holding cells. I wince as I watch one particularly screwed up creature burst into flame, high pitched, inhuman squeals coming out of its… mouth?

Jesus Christ. I don’t want to think about it, ugh.

Then, Percy selects another command in the console, and the doors hiss open.

My partner turned around, footsteps urgent, and I followed her closely behind. Fawkes emerges from his cell, carefully, like an animal let loose from a trap, and he turns to us, towering us both.

“Thank you,” he boomed, and though his voice sounded rough, I felt his gratitude for Percy. “As promised, I will retrieve the GECK for you. This is a debt I am most happy to pay, my friends. Follow me!”

Percy smiles and nods, and she turns to me, looking over her shoulder with a pleased expression.

“See Charon? He isn’t bad at all,” she starts, and I only grumble in response. Percy senses the apprehension that lingered in me, and chuckles.

“To be frank Charon, the first time I met you in Underworld, I might have felt the same thing,” she says, and I look down with a questioning look.

“Dad told me to judge other people by what they looked like, but even then, I felt kind of uneasy around you. Then I heard you beat up Patchwork, and I was really angry for a while.”

I gulped. I never thought about what she thinks of me during that time. It was an entirely different reality back then; her thoughts, or anyone else’s, didn’t matter. Only Ahzrukhal’s did.

“But what Tulip said to me about you being Ahzrukhal’s employee really challenged my perspective. Getting back at you would only end in me getting hurt. You were at Ahzrukhal’s mercy as much as Patchwork was.”

“So is that why you bought my contract back then? You felt sorry?”

“No. I felt your frustration at being powerless. So, I bought your contract to create an opportunity to seize that back. Of course it wasn’t easy after that,” Percy chuckles sheepishly, and I sigh, remembering all the times I struggled with the contract’s hold over me.

But it’s gone, right?

No sense in dwelling over that.

“So, where were you going with this, Percy?”

“Give Fawkes a chance.”

I stop in my tracks, feeling guilty as hell. All this time, all I thought about is Percy, and myself. Meanwhile, she tries to consider everyone around her.

“Fine, Angel, I will.”

I felt a light jab on my ribs; Percy elbowed it playfully. “Whatever, big guy.”

“I don’t think that nickname suits me anymore, Percy. We’ve got a bigger guy now,” I tease her, pointing at Fawkes, who’s taking our conversation in stride as he pummeled a dumb mutie in our way.

“Nah. Fawkes doesn’t need a nickname anymore.  You’re my big guy,” Percy teases back.

Is this flirting? Is Percy flirting with me? Goddammit. If I had more skin left on my cheeks, I would have blushed.

I almost ran into Fawkes when he stopped walking. I look to the right, and see the sickly green glow of the irradiated room that the GECK is in.

“Alright. You better not enter, human. This radiation is lethal to you. Stay here, and I will fulfill my end of the bargain,” he grunts, and my partner nods at him.

“Thank you, Fawkes.”

“No. Thank you, human.”

He turns around, and enters the room. On her tiptoes, Percy watches him inside through the window, while I keep watch, guarding her six just in case. Soon after, Fawkes returns carrying a briefcase.

That’s the GECK? What the hell?

“You got it!” Percy exclaims, taking the briefcase off of the super mutant’s hands gingerly. “Again, thank you so much Fawkes. You wouldn’t believe how important this is to us.”

“It’s my pleasure, Percy. Now, I believe this is farewell.”

Farewell?

I turn to Percy and see her somber expression. Good grief, don’t tell me she’s already getting attached to him. This happened with the Big Town kids too.

“Farewell? Fawkes, why don’t you come with us?”

Okay. Okay, I am definitely accepting that Fawkes indeed is good and that I shouldn’t judge him because of him being a super mutant, or metahuman, but this? Had Percy gone mad? Travelling with him could get us killed!

Before I can open my mouth and say something that might possibly anger her, Fawkes already took care of the problem.

“Sorry, I’m afraid a Super Mutant wouldn’t be welcome in the places you frequent.”

“But you said it yourself, you’re a metahuman! You’re different from the other mutants we-”

“All I would do is cause you undue attention and probably get you killed,” Fawkes interrupts, a tinge of sorrow in his grating voice.

“I- you’re right,” Percy sighs, relenting.

“Take care of yourself, friend.”

And with that, we parted ways.

I can tell Percy is sad by the slump in her shoulders. As much as it pains me to see her like this, it’s for the better. The Brotherhood can barely tolerate my presence. Fawkes? They’d shoot him on sight. It’s definitely for his safety too.

“Do you think we’ll see him again, Charon?”

“I don’t think we’ll see him anytime soon.”

“I’m worried.”

“Worry about yourself, angel. Have you seen him? He pummeled that other mutie no problem, like a kid throwing a teddy bear.”

“I guess you’re right. I- Charon, get down.”

Out of instinct, I listen to her. Percy pulls up her PipBoy, and a worried expression is etched on her features. “So many red dots… Charon, I think we’re about to encounter a huge group of muties.”

“Should we go back and get Fawkes?”

Gripping her rifle, she checks the magazine, then she pats at the ammo pouches on her waist. I proceed to check my own ammunition too. Just two boxes of shotgun shells left, and a grenade; the same grenade Percy gave me when she first hired me. I haven’t used it yet, after all these months.

We’re running low on ammo.

“No, no. Stay low. We’ll sneak out of here,” Percy tells me, and she crouches low, the helmet of her stealth suit protracting over her face, then her suit’s stealth mechanism activates. All I can see is a faint silver-white outline.

“I’ll scout ahead. If I raise a fist, move to my location.”

I nod, and she proceeds.

Cautiously, Percy moves through the hall. My grip on my shotgun remains steady, watching her inch slowly but surely to the open area ahead.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

A pulse grenade drops from the ceiling.

It felt like time slowed all around us. Percy sees the grenade landing near her foot, and turns around, movement abrupt, her helmet retracting from her head and revealing her panicked gaze. Her eyes are wide in terror, lips trembling as she yelled at me.

“Charon!”

My feet are ready to take me to her, but what she screamed before the grenade fried her suit’s systems and took her down made me freeze in my spot.

“I order you to live!”

The pulse grenade burst, and so did the walls of the vault. The rubble flew at Percy, who was falling backwards, her helmet thumping against the metal flooring as she hit the ground. Losing consciousness, the GECK escapes her grasp, and skitters a few feet away from her.

From the newly formed hole in the wall, a man emerges. Colonel Autumn. I thought that asshole was dead!

The Enclave is here.

Heart in my throat, I didn’t know what to do. At that moment, I forgot the contract was gone. I turned around, and obeyed, fleeing from the scene with Percy’s words echoing in my head.

“Charon! I order you to live!”

“I order you to live!”

“Live!”

Live.

[purplesurveys]

1482

What did you do last night? Managed and led a major event that I have worked and lost sleep for in the last week alone. God am I so fucking glad that everything’s over – I lost Kimi in the midst of it all and I will forever resent the fact that this stupid thing delayed my grieving process. 

In any case, this is the first big, on-ground event I ever led and I’m glad it went well, and even more fulfilling to see your work and your vision come to life despite only having a one-week leadtime to pull off such a grand event.

What was the first thing you thought about in the morning? I took one look at my phone and told Bea and Liara, who were in the hotel room with me, “Guys...it’s really 9 AM?” Hahaha. Your girl was knocked the fuck out after that event. I also immediately felt how sore my throat felt - pretty sure that was because I chugged ice-cold water the night before, after not eating and drinking the whole day.

What are you wearing right now? I have a black tank top and black sweatpants. 

When was the last time you got drunk? It may have been two or three Fridays ago, I think. Partying or watching a movie? Uh, depends on my mood. I think I’d almost always pick partying though.

What pisses you off the most? Incredibly unruly drivers. In all my years of driving it’s usually the trucks, taxis, and pickup trucks that act like the biggest assholes of all assholes on the road.

Last thing you questioned yourself on? If my event was really a success, and if I did well managing it, and if the guests had fun. Then again it’s inevitable to have those thoughts when you hold the biggest responsibility over a certain task, so I try not to dwell too much on these thoughts anymore. The event has already ended, and it was what it was.

Bars or clubs? Bars. The food is better and the atmosphere is also nicer and more suitable for catching up with friends.

Where do you want to be at a year from now? Oh dear...a whole year. Maybe in a new job? I’m pretty sure I said this a year ago too and look where I still am now, so I highly doubt anything would change. But on another side of things, maybe it’d be nice to have saved a little bit more? and maybe travel someplace farther. How many kids would you like to have? Two at most would be nice, but I don’t know if I’d still have any.

What is your favorite trait about yourself? I like that I’m loyal.

Anything bothering you right now? My literal entire body is aching after rushing around and carrying my laptop in my arms all afternoon and evening yesterday. I’ve applied a lifetime’s worth of ointment all over my arms and legs once I got home earlier but I think what I’ll really be needing a massage, haha.

Do you like pickles? God no. Take them out of all my meals, please. It’s not a very common addition where I’m from, so my palate never got used to the taste.

When was the last time you got a phone call? Earlier this afternoon when I was driving. So for context, I had bought an all-new extension cord yesterday to bring to our event in case of emergency...then I ended up forgetting about it...anyway, I reached out to the hotel this morning to ask if they could look for it. The phone call I got was them telling me their search turned out negative. :(

Bea suggested I can have the purchase reimbursed anyway by the company, but I told her I wanted this to serve as a lesson for myself, and I’ll just have to deal with the P800 I lost in a day, lol. Where do you work? At home. We do have a physical office, but we haven’t gone back in full since the company grew during the pandemic and the current space isn’t going to fit everybody. We have the choice to work there though, on a sign-up basis.

Who is your favorite football team? I don’t follow football.

Have you ever bobbed for apples? Idk what that means.

Have you ever thought you could do a better job at being president? Nah. I’m terrible at negotiation, which is a crucial side in jobs like that. I’d be pissing off people and whole-ass countries from day one, lmao.

If you could only drink one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? If health effects wouldn’t be a concern, iced coffee.

What’s one food you could eat everyday for the rest of your life? Sushi. Literally any kind of it. Katsu is also quickly becoming my favorite.

You’re in line at Taco Bell, what’s your order? I dunno the names of their items because we have only like two branches here that I know of and I get Taco Bell once a year a most...but I’ll get one of their burritos, whatever they call it.

How many months are there until your birthday? 10 months.

Have you gotten gum stuck in your hair? Once as a kid but the experience had been surprisingly manageable.

Where is your sister right now? I think I just heard her bedroom door open and close so she must’ve already turned in.

Is your handwriting large, tiny, or pretty normal? It gets pointed out a lot that it’s rather tiny.

Are you currently listening to a song? No but I’ve had For Youth playing in my head on reeeepeeeeeat for a while now.

If yes, what song is it? Man I’m always one step ahead...

Do you have a digital camera? Nah. I never owned a digicam.

Do you own any kind of yellow clothing? Sure. I literally had on a yellow skirt yesterday for my event.

What time is it? 12:23 AM. What color are your eyes? Dark brown.

How long does it take you to shower? 5-10 minutes. I take longer whenever I have to have my shaving routine, but for the most part I like to be quick and snappy in the bathroom.

What jewelry do you wear all the time? Oh I never wear jewelry. I usually only would for family functions, but nothing beyond that.

Any siblings? A sister and a brother, yes.

What are you doing tomorrow? I imagine we’re gonna go to mass but I also just want to rest for the whole day tomorrow. I haven’t had a decent rest in like, 9 days...so I do just want to have one day dedicated to absolutely nothing.

What color are your socks? I’m not wearing any at the moment but the last pair I wore was a dark green. When’s the last time you went to the zoo? It’s been like half a decade, I’m sure. I don’t like going to zoos.

What color do you wish your eyes were? I’m fine with the color of my eyes. It’s not like Filipinos can choose anyway unless they were born half-something.

How long is your hair? It’s longer than I would want it to be at this point. It’s nearly waist-level now.

Can others make you cry easily? Not people. But thinking of certain things can send me crying...the most recent trigger these days would be Kimi. I could cry within seconds thinking of him.

Whose house did you last go to? My grandmother’s, last weekend as is our Sunday tradition. We’ll probably head there again tomorrow but I might have to pass. I’m too tired.

Where did you get the shirt you are wearing? I don’t have anything but a nightgown on. This is from my mom, idk where she got it. Do you know what you are going to wear tomorrow? Not yet but definitely nothing too suffocating. I’ve had a rough week and all I wanna do is show up for that one-hour church service in something comfy and head the fuck right back home.

How has the past week been? It sucked. I lost my dog and my best friend and didn’t have the time to properly grieve him because I had to work extreme overtime hours to prep for this event that we were given just one week to pull off. It’s something I’ll always feel resentful towards and I’ll never forget the fact that I had no choice but to break down and cry during my shift hours just to let myself process my feelings.

What year were you born in? 1998.

What size shoe do you wear? 6.5 hahahahaha I have tiny feet!

When did you first get your period? I was 10.

Do you like thunderstorms? Yes, I love them.

Do you have a bad attitude? It can sometimes come out but I don’t think I’m overall a negative person. Are you the first born? Yes, you are exactly right. Are you a vegetarian? Nope.

Are you eating? Yeah, I have a cake slice beside me.

[captainsassmanes]

Just a Goodbye

My version for @pastelwitchling 

“You’ve been an asshole lately. What’s going on?”

Michael froze with a fry to his lips, eyebrows knit together. “Nothing’s going on, asshole.” He tossed the fry at Max and they laughed. It had been a long road back, rebuilding their relationship but today, sitting together at the Crashdown, he felt content.

“Seriously though,” Max took a sip of his shake, eyes shifting over to watch Liz greet a new set of customers. “You’ve been more surly than usual. Snippy.”

Shrugging, Michael kept his eyes on his food. “I dunno. I guess I’ve been feeling, kind of, wound up?”

“Everything okay with Maria?”

Michael nodded, taking a bite of his burger and resisting the urge to spit it out. Everything tasted like nothing lately. “Yeah we’re fine.”

With a smirk, Max muttered, “romantic.”

The truth was something wasn’t sitting right anymore. The time he spent with Maria had always been quiet, no expectations, no fear, no nerves. He could just exist and laugh and breath. But lately it didn’t feel like enough.

“I’ve been wanting simple for a long time, you know? Someone not so tangled up in our extraterrestrial bullshit that they couldn’t just be with me. And Maria is perfect. I can just be myself. No pressure.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Rolling his eyes, he stole Max’s shake and took a big gulp, ignoring the stink eye he got in return.

“Alex.”

“Alex?”

“Alex.”

“Why Alex? I thought you guys were friends?”

Michael scoffed, drawing designs in the green froth with the straw. “Can you just be friends with someone you love?”

“I’d never be able to be Liz’s friend after all this.” Michael looked up to witness Max’s dreamy gaze drift back to Liz who stuck her tongue out and winked back. “But I also can’t imagine not having her in my life so, I guess I don’t know…hey!”

Max wiped the milkshake Michael had flicked in his direction off his face.

“Thank you, Maxwell. Very helpful.”

“Well I don’t know! If you love Alex why the hell are you with Maria?”

“I just told you why!”

“You just told me why you decided to be with Maria in the first place. You didn’t explain why you’re still with her.”

“Oh, shut up, Deputy.”

They both chuckled and went back to their food, Michael mindlessly shoving one fry after another into his mouth while his mind raced. He thought he loved Maria; when they were alone, laughing and holding onto one another, he felt peaceful and was sure it was love. But in the rare moments he dared to compare it with his feelings for Alex…

“Write it down.”

Michael raised his eyebrows and looked around, confused. “Huh?”

“It’s how I coped when I loved Liz but couldn’t tell her. I wrote her love notes. Helped me deal for a while.”

Snorting, Michael said, “we’re not all Tolstoy, buddy.”

Tossing a fry at Michael’s forehead, Max muttered, “fuck off, I’m serious. Write him a note, explaining everything or apologizing or ending it or whatever you need.” He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “I kept mine ‘cause, well, you know. But you could rip yours up or burn it, whatever dramatic choice you wanted to make.”

“You boys need anything else?”

“Yeah,” Michael smiled at Liz and rested his chin in his hand. “I’ve gotta know how you do it.”

She smiled and tilted her head, ripping their bill from her pad. “How I do what?”

“Deal with this cheesy motherfucker.”

**********

That night, he’d left the Pony a bit early, giving Maria a quick kiss and apologizing for not staying, offering some excuse about files to review or formulas to work on. He couldn’t even remember.

He sat in the airstream, crickets chirping loudly outside, with a tiny lamp illuminating the space. Bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his head against the cool aluminum and stared at the blank piece of paper, twirling his pen between his fingers.

Glancing towards the door, he remembered the first time he’d seen Alex in almost a decade, how beautiful he looked but the way he stood, obviously prepared for a battle. Michael grimaced when he remembered his words, a real Manes man.

How many times over the months, years, had he said the wrong thing? Made Alex feel small when he may have had the power to help him feel tall again. Crawling out of his too small bed, Michael opened up a box and pulled out his favorite photo. Alex looked so relaxed, even though he still carried too much weight for a seventeen-year-old kid. The years had only added to that pressure, made his shoulders slump a little more each day with the burden of this world and, at least, one other.

He kicked off his boots and shimmied out of his pants, crawling under the covers and grabbing the paper and pen once more, his favorite photo resting on the covers beside him.

********

It was a few days later that Max had shown up at the ass crack of dawn to pull Michael out of bed so they could surprise Isobel. He’d been doing that now and then, seemingly determined to make sure the three of them remained close, all feeling needed and loved.

Michael wasn’t complaining.

They’d picked up coffee and bagels from Bean Me Up and had a relaxing morning catching up and gossiping, enjoying the perfect weather.

“Did you end up taking my advice?” Max looked at Michael over his coffee once the inevitable subject of his romantic life was brought up.

Nodding, Michael sighed. “Yep. It wasn’t too bad if I do say so myself.”

“Fill me in please.” Isobel leaned back in her chair, long legs crossed and swinging playfully.

Michael pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head with a smile. “I guess I’m having a hard time letting Alex go? I’m happy with Maria but it feels like something changed.” He watched Isobel’s eyes soften and had to look away. “Our resident writer suggested I put pen to paper to move on.”

“Or not,” Max pushed Michael’s knee with his foot. “Could just help you process it all. Don’t have to make any final decisions.”

“Nah, I’m alright. I feel better about it already, I think.”

“He thinks,” Isobel smirked towards Max who nodded in agreement, eyebrows furrowed in false seriousness. “He thinks.”

“Ah, fuck you both.”

He laughed with his siblings as his heart sank.

********

Max dropped him off at the airstream a few hours later with the promise of a free beer at the Pony that night. He was surprised to find Maria sitting around the fire pit, eyes on a fire that sat extinguished.

“Hey. I didn’t know you were coming over.”

She nodded slowly; eyes fixed on his. “I lost my phone and thought it might be here.”

“Ah,” Michael said as he took the seat next to her. “You could have let yourself in, taken a look. You didn’t need to wait for me.”

“Oh, I didn’t.”

Something began to shift uncomfortably inside of Michael, realizing too slowly that something wasn’t quite right with Maria. “You okay?”

She smiled as tears welled in her eyes. “No, I’m not.”

Michael reached out for her, but she stood quickly and moved out of reach. He watched as she faced away from him, listened as she steadied her breath.

“A veteran move as you limp into frame, longing to be your crutch, I want to consume your pain.”

“Maria, wait- “

“So I loosen my belt, a familiar feeling, ten years later and my heart’s still reeling.”

“Maria, just stop and listen- “ but she continued, undeterred.

“Then you show up on my porch, floating down the stream, while I swim uphill, running out of steam.”

As Maria’s voice cracked, Michael held his head in his hands. He never meant for anyone to see what he wrote, let alone Maria. But there was something undeniable about hearing his words out loud. Something he couldn’t walk away from anymore.

“Lies upon lies, thighs upon thighs, of a woman’s touch but damn that guy.” He grimaced as Maria’s voice broke. She turned to face him, crumpled paper shaking in her delicate hands.

“The one who lifted my heaviest sighs with ease. Too much pride to beg; I’ll let my looks say please. So ignore my words, this is where I stand. You’re a pretty little liar, and I’m your man.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Michael’s heart ached at the look on Maria’s face and he wanted nothing more than to comfort her, to make that expression vanish.

“It’s just a poem, Maria.”

“For Alex.”

“It’s nothing. It’s a last goodbye.”

As a tear danced down her cheek, she shook her head. “You think that poem was a goodbye?”

Michael stood, legs feeling like jelly and out of his control. “I know it was. I wrote the damn thing.”

“When did you write it?”

He buried his hands in his pockets and stared at the sand covering his boots.

“Michael.”

“A couple days ago.”

Scoffing, she took the few steps to stand in front of him, taking hold of his face and forcing him to look at her. The paper in her hand left a small papercut on his cheek.

Her gaze was intense, making him feel naked, too exposed. He tried to pull away, but she just held on tighter. Michael felt his eyes fill, hands coming to her wrists in a silent plea.

“Fuck you, Michael.”

He nodded, finally able to avert his eyes. She dropped her hands and gently pressed the poem against his chest. He quickly covered her hand with his and their eyes met again, both crying and flayed open.

“I knew, Michael. I just kept hoping you’d grow to love me as much as you love him.”

Swallowing, Michael whispered, “I tried. I promise I tried.”

She nodded and leaned into his warmth, arms wrapping around one another and swaying slightly, a last dance in the quiet of the desert. Eventually, Maria pulled back and wiped her eyes, looking around at everything but Michael.

Clearing her throat, she took a step back and pulled her keys from her pocket. “Stay away from the Pony for a while, okay? I need time.”

He nodded and said, “yeah. Of course.”

She nodded in return and walked toward her truck, stopping with the door open and one foot inside.

“That,” she pointed at the paper in his hand, blowing gently with the breeze, “is not a goodbye. It’s a confession.”

Michael watched as she drove away, the dust clouding his view as she left.

He looked down at the paper, reading his poem through blurry eyes. Roughly wiping at his face, Michael carefully folded the paper and tucked it in his back pocket.

In something of a daze, Michael walked into the airstream, sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone in one hand, the photo in the other. He took a deep breath as he hit send, leg bouncing with nerves and a naïve sense of excitement as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Alex. It’s Michael.”

“Hi. You okay?”

Michael smiled. “Yeah. I was just hoping you could come over. I wanna talk to you.”

His heart raced as Alex said nothing, the seconds ticking away with his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Uh, yeah, of course. What do you need?”

“You.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #461

“this city looks so pretty, do you wanna burn it with me?”

Have you ever wanted a Nikon camera? Or do you have one already? My camera before the one I have now was a Nikon D3200. I use a Canon now. Who was the last person (if anyone) you said Happy Birthday to? A friend. Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? I have it, but I barely use it nowadays. I use it to edit photos for character profiles or profile pictures, add a watermark for my actual photography, and I used to make Mark-oriented gifs like crazy. They mostly did really well, so... I might wanna get back into that and get That Sweet Validation. Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? No. Have any of your exes gotten married or had kids since your breakup? None, I think. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression. Can you tolerate children for a long period of time? NO. Have you ever lived with someone you felt thoroughly uncomfortable around? No. Are you into dubstep? Yeah, I tend to enjoy it. Zelda or The Sims games? Can I pick neither? lol I don't feel very much at all for The Sims, and Zelda games have always looked... boring to me? Like I've watched most of the Game Grumps' playthroughs of all the games, and they make it hilarious of course, but the games themselves? Nah. Are you terrible at assigning bands their proper genre? YES YES YES YES YES YES. Even in my preferred category, that being metal, FUCK if I know the sub-genre. Have you ever made out in a closet? No, that shit sounds claustrophobic as hell. Have you ever been to a laser tag place? Yeah, on a triple-date once! It was SO fun. How do you wanna celebrate your next birthday? Have a couple friends over, pig out at The Cheesecake Factory. o3o Do you tease your parents about them being old? No, especially not Mom. She's self-conscious about getting older. Are you in love with someone? "In love" is a bit too far, buddy. But I love someone. Have you ever ridden a unicycle? No. Have you ever wanted a pet bunny? I was VERY serious about getting a lop-eared bunny for quite a while, but we just couldn't afford to adopt one (even off Craigslist) and get a cage for it, toys, etc. Are the bottom of your feet clean? I HATE seeing the bottom of my feet. Not because they're dirty, but because it's Callus City. I ain't even fuckin jokin'. Do you like really salty food? Yeah. :x When’s the last time you bled a lot? Well, I just recently finished my cycle after not menstruating for three or four MONTHS, so you can figure that one out. Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin? Yeah. I like to know exactly when it's coming. Have you ever seen someone get a piercing/tattoo? Yes to both. When you’re done eating finger foods, do you usually lick your fingers? Usually kasdjlf;kalsdjf shut up ok I like food. What’s the most racist thing you have ever said? As a little kid, when my really good friend (a neighborhood kid, even) asked if he thought we'd be a good couple, I told him no because "blacks and whites don't date" or something like that. It was an idea I'd never been exposed to before; the idea was so foreign to little kid me. I had no idea I was being racist. It ended in a small fight and we didn't talk for a few days 'til he came to my house telling Mom that he had to "be a man" and fix this and if that ain't the cUTEST SHIT RIGHT THERE. We were friends again after that. He's still on my Facebook, and he actually semi-recently got married! :') Do you know someone that is mute, deaf or blind? No. Have you ever spent more than two weeks in a wheelchair? No. Does weed smell good? Or no? Ugh, no. Where do you see your closest friend in ten years? Successful and happy she kept pushing. Mama to so many reptiles that are blessed with the best lives possible in human care. Got at least one amazing book out there. If she's reading this, you've fucking got this. <3 Would you like to have twins? Mother of fucking god, no. Even if I WANTED kids, do fucking not give me twins. Who was the last person you got into an argument with? My mom. Want to have kids before you’re 30? Once again, I don't want kids, but IF I did, that'd be preferable before the risk of birth defects and other issues climb with age. Does anybody have a tattoo with your name on it? My older sister has my initial. Do you think somebody’s in love with you? No. Do you think you and your best friend will be friends in ten years? Yes, I genuinely do. Who were the last people to hang out at your house? Miss Tobey, our friend and landlord. Does anyone like you? Welp... I hope he still does. Guess we'll figure that out soon. What person on your Facebook do you talk to the most? VIA Facebook? Probably my friend Lyndsey. She likes to comment on stuff I share. Do you want to fall in love? I do, but I'm also utterly horrified to and risk being hurt again. Are you interested in more than one person at the moment? No. Once I realized I was so deeply into Girt, all other romantic feelings kinda just... poofed. How was your last break up? Civil and done with both of our best interests in mind. What is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to say? Probably the first time I admitted I needed to go to the hospital for suicidal thoughts. I was so, so scared of what it was going to be like. What is the hardest thing you NEEDED to hear? That if Jason wasn't happy with me, he had every right to move on. She was right. Do you treat yourself well? No... but I'm trying to change that. What was the last song you sang out loud to? This "Set Fire to the Rain" cover. Do you take good pictures? I think I do? Have you ever done any internship? No. What’s a topic you’ve drastically changed your opinion on? Holy shit, so much, especially when it comes to morality and political stances. I am now a massive supporter and member of the LGBTQ+ community, I'm pro-trans rights, pro-choice... I've done like a dozen 180s in a lot of topics. Do you know anyone who has a PhD? I mean, some doctors, but no one in my truly personal life. Do you know anyone who works as a lawyer? Yes: my cousin. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? LAKSDJFKLA;JWD NEVER AND I PRAY TO THE HOLY LORD THAT I NEVER DO. Does the thought of having wrinkles when you’re older upset you? Not massively? Like literally everyone gets them and is natural and inevitable. Do you know anyone who’s struggling with addiction? I know one alcoholic, and one that's probably borderline. I also have two friends who are extremely addicted to weed. Look me in the eyes and say it's not an addictive substance and I wouldn't believe you one bit. Is there a video or computer game that you can get lost in for hours? Eh, sometimes World of Warcraft. Some days I'm really into it, and others I barely touch it. What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? I have no clue. I don't even remember movies that were made *for* Disney exclusively. Do you ever have to do yard work? No. We have a friend from the dance studio mow the lawn. Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? My iPod has a whole live album of Ozzy. Did you or do you listen to Britney Spears songs? Both did and do. Britney is a boss bitch. Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? Male. Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? No, but I've seen some of that P!nk music video of the song and it brings out the Gay in me. Do you have a key to anything besides your house? No. Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? I've done that before. I miss doing puzzles... Have you ever been to any sort of convention? I went to a reptile expo with Sara!! I REALLY want to go to another when my legs are stronger and can handle standing and walking so much. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom. Have you ever tried to walk on a moving vehicle and fallen over? No????? What is your favourite kind of bread? Is there any of that in your house? Pumpernickel. No. Are/were you in the school band, and if so, what instrument did you play? I played the flute all through middle school and I wanna say half of HS. Have you ever ordered an unusual drink at a bar? Never even been to one. Have you ever been pulled aside by security at the airport? I think once for some reason I don't recall? What is your favourite seasonal candy? (only available at certain times) Gingerbread men, probs. Or chocolate bunnies!!! :') How do you feel right now? My stomach is KILLING me. I'm super excited though that Girt is coming over tomorrow. Have you ever had surgery that kept you in the hospital for over a day? No. What would you like your generation to change? How we treat nature. Is there anyone that you truly could not live without? No. I learned that is a very unhealthy mentality to have. Do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked? I just hate carrots. What restaurant did you last go out to dinner at with friends? With friends? I couldn't even guess. Does your refrigerator have an ice maker or do you use ice cube trays? It has an ice maker. Do you have a favorite sibling, if any? No; I love them all. Do you have a favorite brand of clothing? I STAN CLOAK. How’s the love life? Something new might start tomorrow. I think it will. Do you watch the news? No; that shit is depressing. Who do you admire most? Mark. Do you have a favorite album? Black Rain by Ozzy Osbourne takes the cake and always will.

[calpalirwin]

Marrying Kind

Summary: Sometimes you do get to pick your family

A/N: Based on that idea I was tagged in by @lala200511 (not sure why it’s not letting me tag... anywho...)

Content: Soft, dorkiness

Word Count: 1.5k

And away, and away we go!

__

Every time they got asked the inevitable question of how they met, Calum and Rebecca always shared a laugh followed by a shrug. It was funny for them on two counts. One, it was generally asked on the assumption that they were a couple, which they were not. Two, they couldn’t actually remember how they had met.

It was the type of friendship that had always existed. The one where their parents whispered about how cute their wedding would be when they grew up. The one that often found them walking into their home with the other already sitting at the kitchen table, smirking, “Glad you could join us.”

Calum could hear the happy chatter from the kitchen, the smell of whatever was being cooked wafting through the house. “Smells good in here, Mum,” he called out as he followed his nose. “What’re y- You’re not Mali.” While the words were true, they came out sharper than he intended due to his surprise.

“See, Joy? Your boy’s smart!” Rebecca quipped.

“Ha-ha,” Calum said without humor. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be here already.”

“Well it’s not as much fun to surprise you when you’re expecting it, now is it?”

“Becks understands how much I love it when my children come to visit. Unlike other children of mine who shall remain nameless. You haven’t happened to see any of them, have you? Maybe my son in particular? Looks an awful lot like you,” Joy’s eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled, her arms opening wide for a hug. 

Rebecca could see the family resemblance as Calum’s own eyes scrunched up as he hugged his mum tight. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known Becks is your favorite, Mum.”

“Well, you’ll always be my favorite son,” Joy continued to tease, giving Calum’s cheeks a small pinch.

He wiped imaginary tears from his eyes before resting his hand over his heart. “I’m so touched.”

~~~

“You know, Cal, you should find a nice girl and settle down like your friends,” Joy told him as he helped her with the dishes. Rebecca had excused herself shortly after they finished eating on the premise of giving them some alone time, but not before promising Joy she’d be back tomorrow so they could go to the farmer’s market like they did every Saturday.

“You say that every time I come home, Mum,” Calum pointed out.

“That’s because I mean it. I know your band makes you happy. But you deserve someone to come home to.”

“I do,” Calum insisted, a smile spreading across his face. “I come home to you.”

Joy scoffed good-naturedly. “Someone who’s not actually your family. But someone who feels like it.”

“So someone like Becks?”

“Oh, I would love that! She’s like a daughter to me already. Always coming over to visit. And she already knows all my recipes. You’d be great together. It would be just like it is now, only then she’d really be my daughter.”

“Well, there’s one problem with that, Mum. Becks and I aren’t dating.”

“Cal, girls like Becks come around once in a lifetime. And when they do, you don’t take her out for coffee, and call her the next day.  You put a ring on her finger, and call her your wife.”

“Well, that day might come sooner than you think,” Calum confessed, patting one of his jean pockets.

Joy’s eyes lit up for a second before she frowned. “Wait. I’m confused. You said the problem was that you weren’t dating, but you have a ring?”

Calum nodded. “I’ve had the ring for a while.” Then, a story was falling off his lips. A story about how before he left for London he had mentioned as a joke that they should get married. About how Rebecca had joked back that she would if she liked the ring and the proposal was better than the half-assed idea he was spewing now. About how Rebecca had checked on him after hearing the news about Michael’s engagement to make sure he was okay with all of his brothers paired off and moving on with that aspect of their lives. How he admitted to her that he had remained single for a reason; that he already had a girl he wanted to marry. “And I told Becks it was her. She wasn’t surprised or anything,” Calum started to wrap up his tale. “And we know we have things to work out still. But-“

“But it’s you and Becks. You’ve known each other your whole lives. While you may not have actually dated, your relationship has a strong foundation of love. You’ve seen every version of each other, and no matter how long you’re gone, every time you come back, you two fall in line like no time has passed. It doesn’t have to make sense to the rest of the world, Cal. It just has to make sense to you and Becks.”

~~~

“Wow, you look… wow,” Calum smiled as he got the car door for Rebecca. 

Rebecca blushed slightly. “Thanks. You clean up good yourself. Wanna tell me what this is all about?”

“Nah,” he smirked as he closed the door for her and went around the other side to get in the driver’s seat.

Her eyes were narrowed, and she wore a small scowl. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Oh, trust me,” he continued to smirk. “It’s not a surprise. Or it shouldn’t be.” He laughed as her scowl deepened. “Do you trust me?”

“Always. Although I’m starting to regret that choice right about now.”

He laughed more, reaching over to pat her thigh.

They fell silent as he drove to the restaurant- a mom and pop type diner they used to frequent when they were kids. He had thought about taking her somewhere much nicer, but the diner already held so many memories for them, that it only seemed right that it should hold this one too. 

“You had us dress up for some burgers and shakes?” Rebecca’s eyebrow was arched as Calum pulled into a parking spot. 

“Drop the skepticism, and trust me, Becks,” he chided before getting out of the car.

“Trust you a whole lot more if you clued me in on what we’re doing,” she told him as they walked across the gravel lot.

“Getting dinner.”

“Smartass…”

The bell on the door jangled as they stepped inside. “For two?” the hostess asked.

“Yes, please,” Calum answered.

“Right this way.”

Calum didn’t clue in Rebecca on what he was doing when they sat down, instead making idle chit chat. Idle chit chat that he kept going until they had nearly finished their food and Rebecca finally cut him off with an, “Okay, Cal. This is clearly more than just two friends going out for a bite to eat. What’s the big news?”

“Becks, you know I love you, right?”

“Of course I do. And I love you too, Cal.”

“Good, that’s good,” he nodded, pulling the box out from his pocket. “Put out your hands and close your eyes.”

“Okay…” She did as he directed. “What the hell are you up to, Hood?”

“Shh, just trust me,” he chuckled. He opened up the box, taking out the delicate ring and slipping it onto her left ring finger. “Alright, you can look.”

The slight gasp she let out when the cool metal graced her finger, grew louder. “Oh, Calum!” she breathed happily, admiring the gold band engraved with small diamonds across the top. Her amazement was short-lived however as her mind caught up with what was happening. “Calum Thomas Hood, how dare you!”

“How dare I, what, Becks?!” he shot back, jumping on the defensive.

“How dare you take this moment from me! A proposal should be something a woman experiences once in her life, and you just tainted mine!”

“How did I taint it?! You think I’m joking?! C’mon, Becks, I’m not that cruel.”

“T-this isn’t a joke?”

“No. Becks, I’ve known you my whole life. And I don’t say that as an exaggeration.”

“No, I know.”

“Shh, I’m not finished. Becks, you’ve always been there for me. Every important moment of my life has you in it. And I want you to keep being in those moments because without you, they wouldn’t be important.”

“Then why can’t you just ask me on a date, Cal? Y’know, like a sane person?”

“Because you’re not the girl guys like me take out to dinner, and call the next day,” he told her, borrowing his mother’s words. “You’re the girl guys like me put a ring on, and call their wife. So, Rebecca, will you marry me?”

“Of all the people to love and spend my life with, I’ll choose you every time, Cal. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Oh, thank God!” he chuckled in relief. “That was gonna be an awkward drive home if you said no. Plus, you woulda broke poor Mum’s heart.”

She reached over the table to give his shoulder a soft shove. “At least I know my in-laws love me.”

“Hey, I love you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Wow… Calum Hood, my husband. Crazy, huh?”

“Nah. Crazy is us marrying anybody else.”

__

Tag List

@frontmanash​​ @goeatsomelife​​ @flameraine​​ @creator-appreciator​​ @cxddlyash​​ @1-irwin-94​​ @sparkling-calm​​ @tea4sykes​​ @youngblood199456​​ @5-seconds-of-obsession​​ @gosh-im-short​​ @aquarius-hood1996​​ @talkfastromance4​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @philthepegacorn​​ @boomerash​​ @teenwolfss24​​

[lunafeather]

2o. Exhausted parent kiss

(I’m sorry for the wall of text, Tumblr was built by morons, and when I edited the post it moved the read more into the ask itself and nothing I do will fix it -_- )

-----------

They’d thought they could handle the Zoo, if they made sure to stick together and stand united against any kid rebellion. They’d made a plan, they’d assigned roles, they’d broken almost every minute down to a specific routine. And, to be fair, the day had started off well enough.

But an hour in and the dominoes started falling, knocking into each other, stacking and stacking until there was utter chaos – Emma’s feet had started hurting, and Beth reminded her that she had chosen these frilly, half-translucent jelly sandals, that she had warned her that they would likely not be comfortable for a day of walking, but Emma had been stubborn and demanding, hands on her hips and heels firmly planted, her chin jutted out and blue eyes steely (Rio had happened catch the expression and had to hide his chuckle; “She definitely got that look from you, mamí,” he murmured to her later, after helping Emma into her booster seat. Beth had not been amused), so she had conceded and informed her that there would be no complaints later if her feet did start to hurt.  Emma’s eyes had sparkled and she’d thrown her arms around Beth’s thighs, smiling sweetly up at her with an equally saccharine, “Thank you, Mommy!”

Danny had started to get overwhelmed, clutching Beth’s hands until it hurt, refusing to let go and melding to her side, ignoring her attempts to distract him with her fingers ruffling through his hair or by excitedly pointing out the animals in their exhibits.

Kenny cycled violently between skulking and thoroughly enjoying himself the entire time, teenage hormones beginning to rear their ugly heads. And then, noticing Danny shyly hanging back, Kenny had launched his attack, mocking Danny for “being a baby”, for “needing his mommy”, for being “a scaredy cat”. Rio had sharply told him to knock it off, leveling him with that Dad glare, mixed with a little Gang Leader for emphasis, and Kenny had backed down – only to slide up into Danny’s space and whisper his insults in his ear.

All of this, of course, led to the finale in their travelling circus – Jane, climbing on top of a fence lining the pathway, her jacket arms tied around her neck so that it billowed out behind her like a cape (Beth had, in this case, put her foot down about Jane’s outfit choices. She had mostly outgrown her capes and her lack of pants, but occasionally she relapsed, especially if an event seemed exciting and ripe for adventure), tipping her head back and screeching, like Tarzan – only filthier – all while Marcus danced around her, hooting and shrieking and egging her on. Rio had swooped in immediately, but he wasn’t fast enough to catch Jane before she took off, taking two big steps along the fence top, losing her balance, and launching herself off in an attempt to save face.

Beth had shrieked as she went down and Rio had yelled, and every eye in a fifty foot radius was trained on them, strangers appalled and worried and annoyed. Marcus retreated to hide behind Beth as Jane inevitably hit the ground too hard, her momentum flinging her forward onto her face. Rio had scooped her up just as she rolled over and burst into gasping, wailing tears.

Kenny had hovered on the edge of the disaster, looking embarrassed.

As Rio carried Jane back to Beth, the Pièce de résistance – Danny had jerked hard on her arm, demanding her attention, but of course Beth had brushed him off, was trying to drop his hand so that she could check Jane for any serious damage, but he had latched on and tugged even harder, desperate for her attention, his voice tight. Beth turned with a sharp what, Danny? On the tip of her tongue when he opened his mouth and puked, the contents of his stomach spilling against her fitted t-shirt and dribbling down her jeans.

Pandemonium, of course, had ensued.

Now, finally pulling up to the house – their trip cut short, for obvious reasons – Beth heaves a long, exhausted sigh. She and Rio had herded their children to the van where they cleaned Danny and Jane up, and then they’d bickered about what to do with the vomit covered clothing. Danny stripped his shirt and settled in the back of the van with Kenny, too embarrassed to complain. Rio insisted Beth wear just her jacket over her bra and that she take off her pants, that the smell would be too much if they didn’t pack the clothes away, but Beth had pushed back – she didn’t have any spare pants. After a heated stare down, they’d compromised: Beth would wear her jacket over her bra, but would leave her jeans on and cover her lap with his jacket to smother the smell. He’d crowded her into the open passenger’s seat, using his body to shield her in the vast zoo parking lot, but immensely enjoying the view. Even weary and frustrated, he had a one track mind. Beth’d rolled her eyes.

She drops heavily out of the passenger seat and helps Rio unbuckle the three youngest from their booster seats in the middle row. Marcus keeps his head down, ashamed and contemplative, scuffing his shoe and meandering to the front door. Emma stares with wide, glassy eyes first at Rio, then Beth, her lower lip sticking out and about to tremble, but Beth cuts that off with a hard head tilt, and sends a now solemn Emma on her way. Jane whimpers pathetically, swipes at her snotty, running nose with the back of her hand, and when Beth reaches for her, she shrinks away, sad little wounded animal noises curling in the back of her throat. Beth opens her mouth to ask her what’s wrong – then snaps it shut, biting her lip as Jane lifts her arms towards Rio, asking him without words to carry her inside. He sweeps her up and settles her on his hip without complaint.

It makes something deep inside Beth clench.

Danny and Kenny get themselves out, and both hurry to the house – Kenny impatient to get on his computer, Danny thoroughly humiliated by his reaction to the crowds and the chaos, and his state of undress. Beth, with no children to transport, retrieves the stuff from the trunk, prepared to soak and wash their soiled clothes. Danny at least lets her press a kiss to his hair and squeeze him against her side as Rio unlocks the door.

“Kenny, upstairs. Got that book report you gotta finish before tomorrow.”

Kenny rolls his eyes at Rio, groans. Ultimately drags his feet up the stairs to his room anyway.

“Honey, why don’t you go upstairs and take a shower before dinner, okay?” Beth grips Danny’s chin between her thumb and index finger, tipping it up so she can meet his eyes.

He looks away, nods, follows his brother.

Emma has already disappeared to her and Jane’s room. Marcus hovers in the foyer and rubs at his arm, too unsure of himself to commit to one direction. Beth ruffles his hair and points him towards the den. “Why don’t you go and pick out a movie for you and Jane to watch, Sweetie?”

He nods, his face lighting up with that charming, sure-to-break-some-hearts smile and dashes off.

Wandering into the living room and then the dining room, grabbing stray, discarded socks and pants and – underwear? Beth wrinkles her nose in disgust – to add to her spontaneous laundry load, she approaches the kitchen, hears Rio murmuring to Jane, “But we gotta be quick, ‘aight? Sneaky. Like a ninja. Can you do that?” She pauses on the other side of the wall, listens as the fridge opens and closes, as cupboards and drawers open and close, as silverware clatters against dishes. Jane giggles and hums, as Rio shushes her. When Beth finally steps into the open, Rio and Jane – sat on the island counter – freeze, spoons in their mouths, bowls filled with ice cream, the carton open and abandoned next to them.

Rio looks at Jane, sighing. “Looks like we got caught red handed, darlin’.”

Jane clutches her bowl closer, growling like a rabid animal. The effect is shattered by her toothy grin suddenly erupting across her battered face.

“I’m gonna go throw all of this in the wash and get changed. Does she need any band aids or anything?”

“Nah, mama, I think she’s good.”

Beth purses her lips. Scrapes and cuts are sprinkled across her baby’s forehead and nose and cheeks, her hands and knees, and okay, maybe they really don’t look too bad, but you can never be sure. She leaves to dump the duffel bag – a purple one, meant for family, not Book Club – in the washing machine, stripping her jeans and jacket off and shoving them in, too, then changes into a pair of comfy leggings and a soft oversized t-shirt that she pulls from the dryer. Then she grabs the first aid kit from the laundry storage and steps back into the kitchen.

When Rio sees the white box in her hands, he scowls at her. Beth shrugs. She is who she is.

He clears their dishes, rinsing them and setting them in the sink, while she methodically cleans and then applies antibiotic cream to Jane’s wounds. She holds out two band aid options for her daughter to choose from.

“Those ones!” Jane points to the creepy crawly themed ones, covered with all sorts of bugs.

Beth laughs, because of course. She carefully presses band aids to Jane’s knees, palms, and wrists, leaving her face bare – the last time she had tried to put a band aid on her face, Jane had screamed bloody murder and thrashed like a fish caught on a hook. Beth had learned her lesson.

“All done!” Beth smiles, replacing her supplies in the first aid kit. She leans to lift Jane into her arms.

“No! Rio!”

Rio catches her eye, nodding. “S’cool, mama, I got her.”

Beth doesn’t know if she should be offended or charmed by Jane’s insistence on her preferred caretaker.

She tucks Jane’s hair behind her ear, the opening theme for Despicable Me starting from where Marcus is huddled on the couch. “Go sit with Marcus and watch the movie, okay?”

Jane nods. Rio kisses Beth’s cheek as he passes.

She decides now is likely the best time to shower, while the house is quiet and before she passes out from exhaustion. When she’s done, she goes upstairs to check on her three oldest, finding Danny drawing on his bed, freshly bathed and already in his jammies; Emma barefoot and dancing, twirling and delicately jumping, singing lightly along to whatever soundtrack she has playing; and Kenny on his computer – slyly trying to minimize some online game as Beth opens his door, pretending he’d been working on his homework all the while, but he chuckles awkwardly, caught, pinned in place by Beth’s disapproving scowl. She sets him straight and returns to the ground floor.

What she stumbles on sends warmth snaking up the back of her neck, across her shoulders, down her spine. Marcus is curled up in the corner of the couch, fast asleep. Rio is on the opposite end, head tipped back and eyes closed, Jane wrapped completely around him like a spider monkey, straddling him with her knees on either side of his hips, arms tucked against his sides, head nestled into his chest as she snores softly. Rio’s hand is pressed to her back, holding her against him. Beth stands on the stairs and gapes, awed and – yep, definitely charmed, not offended by the sight. She tugs her phone from her back pocket, rounding the couch and inching closer in hopes of silently capturing the moment. One, two shots, she’s about to zoom in when –

���Better not be doin’ what I think you’re doin’,” Rio growls.

Beth grins and circles behind the couch. She bends over the back, kissing him on the cheek, rubbing her nose through his beard and burying her face in his neck.

He grunts. “Never doin’ that again.” She figures he means the Zoo.

She giggles against his skin. Kisses the closest wing of the eagle tattoo, scrapes her teeth against the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish,” he rumbles.

“Sorry,” she says, not sorry at all. He huffs a laugh.

She lifts herself away from him, finding his eyes open and earnest, and that warmth from before swells. She leans down again, brushes her lips against his, smiles when he tilts his head to give her a better angle so it’s not so much an awkward sorta spiderman kiss, and instead a pleasant slightly sideways melding of their mouths. She licks at the seam of his lips until he lets her deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers and groaning. When she bites down hard on his lower lip, he jerks away.

“What’d I tell you?” But he isn’t angry – his voice is rough like sandpaper, making the hair on her neck stand up.

She presses in again, but this kiss is chaste. She burrows again into his neck. “Honestly, that’s all I’ve got in me right now.”

Rio laughs quietly. “Yeah, I feel that.”

Silence falls over them, save for Gru eagerly describing his newest evil invention. Rio turns to inhale the scent of her hair, letting the curls engulf him.

“I’m going to send those to Annie and Ruby.”

He stiffens. “Nuh.”

“Mmhmm. I have to, I have no choice.”

“Elizabeth.”

That night, they’re both too tired to do more than make out a little in bed before passing out.

Rio wakes her in the morning with his hips grinding into her ass and his teeth teasing her pulse point, his energy restored and his appetite thriving. Beth welcomes it, lets it swallow her whole.

————————

Send me a kiss prompt!

(Currently working on: 6, 7, 9, 13, 24, 26, 29, 30)

[late-to-the-sexy-party]

Half a Pint of Sex

A little AU that takes place during S2 E1. What if Rae didn’t leave after she saw Finn in the shower?

Also posted on AO3.

Thank you as ever to Lil, my beta reader from another mother: you are exacting and wise and very exciting to work with. 

@madfatty @burnnmyhearttout @thatfunnygirllauren @hellothisismebye

Rae was in a tizzy as she walked back from the lingerie shop. It was all well and good to bare everything in front of Chloe and Izzy and the baps-expert bra lady, but…ugh…who was she kidding? Even that was horribly uncomfortable. How could she ever do this with Finn? She closed her eyes and counted to ten. “He likes me,” she reminded herself. “He’s already touched my lady bits and he wants to go camping and he knows we’re getting three tents. Relax, idiot! He likes you. He really likes you.” She repeated the affirmation, though suspected this could all change once Finn really saw all of her. But the pep talk and the teal underwear in her shopping bag gave her a surge of confidence or maybe it was just hope. Whatever propelled her, she found herself heading to Finn’s house. Maybe to show him. Maybe not. 

Meanwhile, Finn was in his attic, waist-high in boxes and sorting fairy lights from Christmases past. Most of his thoughts were preoccupied by the camping trip and how not to let on that he was preoccupied. Being attentive to Rae was work but the best kind. It felt good to be in this deep, to care this much. Anyway, their first time would not be in a tent, that was not how he’d pictured it, hence ten calls to arrange the surprise caravan and a whole morning in the attic. He was glad she’d been busy earlier because he was crap at making excuses. He was covered in dust from his efforts, but now he just wanted to see her. Fuck it, he was going to go over to hers even if he had to wait around until she got home. He headed to the shower to wash up.

Rae’s feet automatically slowed as she approached Finn’s house; much had changed since the first time she’d walked up to his door. When she was with Finn their chemistry was obvious and magnetic, but when they were apart the whole thing still seemed impossible. If she could get back in the same room with him, the rest should take care of itself. She needed to trust in the strange magic of them. She pushed herself forward with the memory of Finn’s reassuring smile, his promise of “to be continued.” Gary welcomed her inside amidst a haze of Dire Straits. Rae prayed her own straits were not so dire.

Finn’s thoughts were racing in the shower. Was he putting too much pressure on her? He was pretty sure the whole thing had been Rae’s idea. It was a sleepover and she’d asked for three tents. And she had let him touch her the other day in her room, but then Linda had barged in and it just didn’t feel right to continue. He’d run off to footy practice even though he’d planned to skip it. But now it was all he could think about, how ready she’d been for his fingers. The hot water across his shoulders was starting to remind him of that warmth and how it had spread to her wickedly soft inner thighs. He rubbed at his stiffening cock but glanced up to find the door open, and his dad didn’t need to see that. He turned the water a little colder–he would wait until he was in his room to finish that thought.

Rae climbed the stairs with a distracted smirk on her face and heard the water running as she reached the top. Was Finn in the shower? Was he showering with the door open? Who showered with the door open? “Oh,” she thought, as she saw his wet and flawless frame turning away, “people with perfect bodies.” And there it was, the arse she coveted, bare as the day he was born, as peachy as she’d ever imagined.

Suddenly, she was struck with a huge choice: run out of this house straight to the airport and jump on a plane to the North Pole to live in a cave and raise polar bears and never again see a human arse that would remind her of what she couldn’t have OR literally put on her big girl pants and meet her own life head on. Seeing as she’d spent her last pound on the pants, air travel was out of the question. She walked halfway down the stairs and back up three times before finding herself in Finn’s room. The next set of events was a blur, as she ran to the window and yanked the curtain over to block out as much light as possible, raced into her new underwear while holding the door closed and finally dove under his duvet and slid herself all the way to the wall.

Lying in Finn’s bed, Rae was shocked by her own actions, completely out of breath and utterly grateful that Chloe had explained what she meant about preparing for “naked time” with Finn. That morning, Rae had shaved her legs, continuing above her knees which she hadn’t even realized was a thing, and she’d smoothed out her underarms and even tidied up her unruly thatch of pubic hair. As she awaited the inevitable, she tried to make herself as small as possible, but her flesh refused to cooperate and kept falling around her in the most hideous of ways. Every time she angled herself to smooth one area, another rolled up and out, and she was quickly getting itchy and hot in all the places where her skin was rubbing against itself, and this was all a very bad idea, and her head was pounding and she thought she might throw up. Her fevered train of thought came to an abrupt halt as the freshly-bathed scent of Finn Nelson burst across her senses and then he was there in the room, in his boxers and running a towel over his head. He didn’t see her at first, as he was taking in the closed window curtain with mild confusion.

“Don’t be scared it’s just me!” Rae blurted out as she pulled the duvet up to her nose. “Hiya.”

Tracking Rae’s voice, Finn found her wedged in the corner of his bed. Her position was almost comical as if she were trying to disappear into the wall, but this did not diminish the salient fact: Rae was in his bed. She was under his duvet. She was hiding something, possibly nakedness. His body was reacting faster than his mind and he quickly moved the towel down to hide his excitement. He was turned on; he was touched, and he was stunned by the boldness of her gesture. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he could see that she was terrified.

“What are ya doing under there, girl?” He asked in a tone he hoped was both non-threatening and affectionate.

“Oh nothin’,” Rae responded. “Just thought I’d make sure you had sheets under here.”

“Oh, and do I?” Finn couldn’t help but flirt as he moved slowly towards the bed. He was still having trouble processing what was happening, but whatever it was, was very good.

“Yes, comfy sheets.”

“They’re comfy, eh?” Finn was fully loving the dynamic now. He felt a little bad for torturing her like this, but he knew this would all work out even if she didn’t seem to. “Can you feel them especially, ‘cause maybe you’re not wearin’ anything?”

“Oh, I’m wearin’ something…some…things…” Rae was biting her lip, rolling her eyes and blushing to her toes.

Finn was standing right up against the bed now. His curiosity was beyond piqued, but he knew Rae was regretting her actions and he needed to get her back on board. He was always most confident expressing himself from his arsenal of smiles, and he carefully chose one for her that conveyed sympathy, encouragement and understated joy. When he saw the muscles around her eyes relax, he spoke, “I’m really glad you’re here.” Then even more gently, he added, “Would it be okay if I joined you under there?”

Rae nodded, and Finn slipped cautiously onto the bed, keeping a respectful distance and his eyes on her face.

“So, what are these… things…you’re wearing?”

Rae huffed and rolled her eyes, “Chloe took us to a lingerie shop and I wound up buyin’ this stuff. But they’re totally impractical and I don’t think they look good on me. And I mean, I’m not even sure if you like my boobs, because they’re too large and they’re not made for lacy-”

“Rae…Rae!” Finn was struggling to get Rae’s attention and she finally stopped babbling long enough to look at him. “Do you not know how I feel about your boobs? Guess you hadn’t noticed me looking at them all the time when we first met? Archie and Chop had to tell me to stop!”

“Nah… I hadn’t…” Rae attempted a nanosecond of mental acrobatics, trying to immediately recall all the times this could have happened. It was new information and she couldn’t help but smile and then laugh, “Chop had to stop you?! But Chop looks at them all the time!”

“Yeah…” Finn winced “Now he says if I get to touch’em, then he should at least be able to look at’em.” He scrunched his face and waited for her to punch him.

“What?! Oh thanks for that! Really defending my honor, eh?” The banter was so normal, that for a minute, Rae forgot they were in a bed and half naked. “You know Chop needs to watch himself or Izzy’s going to get seriously insecure. I know she already feels—"

Suddenly Finn was kissing her–his version of oral sparring was not really fair, because he always won.

Finn was glad she was back to form, because he was addicted to transforming loud opinionated Rae into quiet, yielding Rae. Kissing her was like unlocking so much sweetness, and it was all for him.

When she stilled, he spoke quietly, “Anyway, I told Chop, that was bullshit and he had to stop.” Finn continued with a playful pout, “But can we not talk about Chop anymore? Besides…I haven’t really touched them… not really…”

Rae was pleasantly transfixed by the recent kiss and his current gaze. This back and forth between humor and seriousness, teasing and affection, of her knowing him and his knowing her was the alchemy she needed. She bit her bottom lip as she slowly lowered the duvet to her waist, revealing all the cream and teal she’d been hiding. Finn gasped and stared, and Rae felt like she was on fire. His hand instinctively reached out to touch her, but he stopped himself.

“Can I?” His breath hitched on the words and Rae felt a sense of control that she had never known. She could feel how truly sexy she was in that moment with her hair flowing around her face and her lips parted. She looked at him from beneath her lashes and knew how completely she had him. All of time seemed to slow down in that astonishing moment.

When Rae finally spoke, “Yeah,” was all she said. He reached towards her hesitantly and ran his finger along the top of her shallow bra cup, tracing the entire seam where it met the soft flesh of her right breast. Finn’s eyes were on hers, as he slid his finger below the edge, lowering it inch by inch until her whole breast spilled out. They held each other’s eyes with half shock and open mouths. Gradually his eyes lowered to take her in, the fullness, the large dark areola, the perfectly protruding nipple; the sight drew his tongue forward. Then, just as slowly, Finn freed her from the left cup and felt woozy with the vision that lay before him.  

Rae smiled as she watched Finn’s reaction and relaxed into this new sensation of feeling like the best thing he’d ever seen.

“They look so good, Rae…” Finn was nearly stuttering, “better than I imagined.”

Finn was consumed with looking, just feeling her with his eyes for a full minute before finally sweeping his fingers around the outside curves of her and his thumbs against her nipples. He kissed her then, pressing his whole body into her, knowing she could feel him hard against her leg.

It all turned hot and heavy quickly as they licked and sucked at each other’s lips and tongues. They were grinding against each other’s thighs and her hands were grasping at his hair and his hands were full of her breasts. Things were escalating and their hearts were racing, when Rae put her hand between them and pushed him back.

“Are you okay?” he panted, concern registering in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she panted back. “So, so good… I just don’t think I’m… ready…”

“Oh, Rae,” Finn smiled. “We don’t have to…there’s so many other things we can do… I mean…if you want to…”

“Yeah…I want to…” Rae smiled, and Finn remembered she had her own arsenal, and this was the one–so wide and genuine and beautiful–that lit up his heart.

“Honestly,” he added, “I’m just chuffed to see you in your underwear.”

“You really like it?” She asked, pretending the question was not rhetorical.

“Yeah, I really like it,” he answered, as if she didn’t know what an understatement that was.

“Do you think your dad might…?

“Nah.. not if my door’s closed.”

“So he’s not makin’ hot pot or anything? Maybe needs some ingredients?”

“He won’t bother us,” Finn grinned as he spoke. “He knows you’re up here. And he totally loves you.”

Rae smiled to herself wondering how many Nelsons might love her. Finn shifted out of the bed to put on some music.

Rae teased him, “Oh, let me guess…”

“Oi!” Finn shot back, “I’ve been waiting for this. You can’t deny me it.” He pulled out his album of decidedly not crap reggae and lowered the needle. “Plus now my dad will really know to stay away.”

As she watched him return to bed, bopping his head suggestively to the music, Rae giggled and felt her whole body melt and tingle in anticipation. “So, where were we, girl?” Finn asked as he crawled in next to her. He looked into her eyes and ran his fingers through her hair, and Rae was very happy to remind him. 

[unmanageable-day]

15. Between a friend and another friend

When you are friends for so long, and it has never come across your mind to date one of them. Until one particular guy friend of yours came to offer you a relationship, a new chapter of life like no other before. 

prev | next

a/n : i hope this is not messed up :’)

Finally, came the day when the last boxes of your stuff had officially moved in to the future house. Nobody was thrilled more than your parents. The big day was really coming and your stomach felt funny. Nervous? Yes, definitely. Ecstatic? Excited? Nah, you were not even sure about that.

After arranging your stuff with typical bickering with the soon-to-be husband, you and Doyoung ended the long day with a big portion of ramyun. He was satisfied looking at the new feeling of his home. The shared closet filled with clothes in similar range of color, shoe drawer that was dominated by your collection of flat shoes, mules and heels, kitchen and dining supplies—including a newly bought tea set, last but not least was the make-up and dressing table full of skin care products.

“The boys want to throw a welcoming party for you,” told him before starting digging in. “For being the new member of this apartment complex, they said.”

“You don't mean a housewarming party in this house, right?”

He chuckled. He definitely read your mind and your horrified expression that you didn't want to do the cleaning after a mess from an occasion with a pack of people. “No. Yuta is booking a restaurant nearby. How about this Sunday? Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, feeling relieved. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Great. I'll let them know.”

“Anyway, Doyoung?”

“Yes?”

“Did Taeyong call you?”

Doyoung was stunned. He had to control his facial expression and his emotion. Thank goodness that he and you had finished eating. Clearing his throat, he started to tidy up the dining table and headed to the sink. “Why?” he asked, his back facing you as he started to wash the ramyun pot.

“Well, I met him, and we talked a bit. I guess he's ready to.. you know, to sort some things up between us. I haven't heard from him again. Did he contact you?”

It takes several days for you to tell me? he said in his head. “Ah, yeah, he did yesterday. We're meeting tomorrow.”

“That's great.”

“Yeah.”

“I hope it will go well for you. Both of you.”

“Wish me luck, I guess?”

“Of course,” you assured him, your voice sounded delighted.

No. Really, wish me luck so I will be the lucky one to get to be with you.

Even the fact that you had decided to move in still couldn't gave him that confidence. He still felt the insecurity consuming him whenever the thought of Taeyong came to his mind.

ㅡ ❆

The dinner with the guys this weekend would remark as the first event after Taeyong finally stopped avoiding you and Doyoung. Hopefully it could be a fresh start for the three of you. You assumed these bestfriends had made up. Although it was inevitable to be the same like the old times, you still wished that things would return to normal.

“Everything will be alright, right?” you asked Doyoung for assurance before heading out. It was funny how you felt nervous to meet your own squad, but as Doyoung's 'housemate'.

“Of course. I've got your back.” He pat your shoulder.

On your way to the restaurant which you decided to go on foot, you were blabbering non-stop about this and that and all random things to overcome the nervousness. Probably it was irritating Doyoung's ears as he didn't respond much. “Okay. Here goes nothing,” you spoke to yourself, breathing in deeply before pushing open the restaurant door.

When you arrived, there were Yuta, Johnny and his girlfriend, Jaehyun, Mark, Donghyuk, Jaemin, Jeno, Sooyoung, and Seulgi already sitting, chattering, and devouring the appetizer. Yuta was the first to welcome you with his loud personality when he saw you by the door. Just then, Taeyong appeared from toilet and he made eye contact with you and Doyoung. You were about to say hi to him, yet he chose to go directly back to his chair. You spotted the empty seat beside Taeyong, so you naturally went there. Doyoung followed and sat down next to you, feeling restless.

“Now that Jooyeon is here, should we cheer for Mr. and soon-to-be Mrs. Kim Doyoung?” Yuta excitedly lead the group for a toast. The mood was instantly liven up, thanks to him. After the first toast, all of you continued to eat.

When you were scanning all the food on the table, Jaehyun offered you a basket of seafood platter, which taken by Taeyong instead. He took the remaining fried fish fillet and put them on your plate, leaving the shrimp and calamari on the basket. You looked at him, not saying anything but he got you. “You're allergic to prawn and you don't like squid.”

You drew a sincere smile. The fact that he still remembered your eating habit somehow made you feel touched. “Thank you,” you almost squealed.

Doyoung silently watched and observed what just happened. Suddenly a bitter taste crept up his mouth although he was munching some baked sweet potato. His appetite was slowly decreasing as he couldn't help but to witness the affection Taeyong showered you.

Taeyong would always picked a food that he thinks you would like. He would make sure that the food he put on your plate didn't contain some ingredients that you disliked. He would check if the food taste spicy or not before he gave some to you. He even switched the chocolate pudding he got for you when everybody knew that it was his favorite dessert.

For Doyoung, this dinner felt like a soft torture he had to endure. He felt powerless. It didn't feel like he was your fiancee. It was like just he was being there as your regular friend. Yes, you were the star of tonight. Being a good friend and partner as you thought you were, you would still talk to him and shared some food, even feeding him with your hand. But Doyoung knew you paid more attention to Taeyong. You were all ears listening attentively to whatever Taeyong was talking about. This bestfriend of yours didn't even steal the spotlight for tonight. Yet he got your fullest attention. And it was shown in his sparkly eyes, how he was comfortably enjoying your company.

“You didn't eat much. Are you sick?” you asked when you arrived home.

“I'm fine.”

“Want me to cook something for you?” You checked the fridge only to find eggs and some side dishes from Doyoung's mom. “Toast with eggs?” you offered.

“That would be nice.”

While waiting for his food, his mind recalled his meeting with Taeyong.

'I assume you already know that Hyemi and I are over,' Taeyong started. 'I've told Jooyeon about that too.' 'I want to say I'm sorry, but I guess that's not the case for you. Am I right?' Doyoung responded calmly. 'You're right.' 'Look, I'm sorry for the way I was. You know how much I value you as a friend. You're very precious for me. And so is she. I'm not gonna lie it still hurts watching her with you. But I guess, I just have to deal with it and overcome it, right?' 'I'd appreciate it. Really.' But, really, how do you deal with it, Taeyong? 'Sometimes I wish you or Johnny were a girl. I'd definitely choose you or him over anything.' The bunny guy tried to laugh without sounded fake. Or awkward. At least Taeyong had tried to make a joke about this already.

Doyoung mindlessly sighed. Although Taeyong didn't say anything weird, what if he tries to win you again this time?

“Did everything go well with Taeyong?” you asked, distracting him and snapping him out of his own thinking.

Getting a yes or no question from you had never been easier. “Yeah, of course,” he quickly answered. Without even thinking.

“I'm glad to hear that.” Soon you joined him on the couch with his toast.

He silently finished the toast, whereas you occupied yourself watching TV beside him. It was oddly quiet. Although you did wonder what might happen with Doyoung, and particularly how his conversation went with Taeyong, you didn't ask him. You didn't tell him what happened when you met Taeyong the other night either. Not telling each other might be a wise choice. Yet not even a single thought crossed your mind that he felt bothered by the fact you and Taeyong had made up.

“Let's go to sleep.” Doyoung got up and put the plate on the sink. He sent you off to the bedroom first.

You had settled under the blanket on the bed while Doyoung was brushing his teeth. Your eyes were shut, trying to sleep but Doyoung's arms sneaking to your waist made you startled and flinched that you abruptly opened your eyes again.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?” he softly muttered. His fingers traced your hairline and tucked some hair strands behind your ear.

“No,” you mumbled, repositioning your head as you could feel his attempt to shift closer to you.

You wanted to close your eyes again. Yet the way Doyoung intensely stared at you made you uneasy, you had to look away or look at the striped pattern of his pajamas. A part of you was afraid of what he might do if you close your eyes, particularly in this position where you were locked around his arms.

“Do you regret anything until now?”

You squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Why would I?”

Because there is another man who loves you unconditionally and selflessly. He can make you happy, if you want to be with him. Because he is Lee Taeyong.

Doyoung didn't answer you back. Instead he was brushing your hair gently. Until his hand stopped at the back of your neck. "Just because," he said, before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. Then he continued to peck your blushing cheek. He inhaled before he moved closer until his lips were only few centimeters away from yours. “Can I?” he whispered.

You gulped. Your heart was beating like crazy.

This guy was not kidding when he said there is no turning back.

You were contemplating whether to say yes or no. In your mind, both answers would result in awkward outcomes. What happened to 'living with a friend' and 'a roommate sharing a house with'? What kind of roommate who is a friend that do this such an intimate thing?

Oh, wait. Right. Kim Doyoung was not just a friend anymore.

Your eyes were quivering, slightly glancing back and forth at his eyes, his nose, then his lips. Meanwhile he was patiently waiting for your permission, staying still at where he was. You had no idea how your facial expression looked like in his eyes. Was it confused expression? Or maybe terrified? Or even disgusted? That he finally said, “It's okay if I can't.” with a little smile made you even more puzzled. Yet the courage in you suddenly popped up.

"It's not that you can't..." you shyly and hesitantly mumbled, your fist slightly cover your mouth.

The smile on Doyoung's face was getting bigger. “Then it means I can?”

“You said you wanted.. to.. try again..” You couldn't believe you said that. Never had you wanted to be buried alive, or suffocated yourself against the pillow due to embarrassment like this.

Moving away from your neck, his hand reached yours and squeezed it a bit to make it more relaxed. He gestured to guide your hand to hold on to his slim waist, or his back if you wanted. “We're taking it slow, okay?” he whispered as his palm found the back of your neck again. As he leaned in closer, you closed your eyes in panic, just like the first time. You would just let him take the lead because you were already dying from being embarrassed although this is not the first time.

In seconds, his lips finally met yours. Properly, this time. It was a gentle kiss, not particularly a short one since he took a good time to feel the softness of your lips. As if he wanted to preserve the taste of your lips, and at the same time, he wanted you to remember the shape of his lips too. Along with the feelings and the quiet atmosphere when you were just focusing on each other. It was far from a passionate or a hungry kiss as he didn't want to scare you. At least he was hoping it was good enough to make you get used to this.

You almost forgot how to breathe, having no idea how long the kiss lasted. It felt like forever honestly, although it didn't mean you found the kiss awful, or unpleasant. It was just weird to kiss, to be kissed romantically by your very own friend. Maybe you should try to get rid of this kind of thoughts, especially Doyoung will be your husband in a matter of weeks.

He finally released your lips for a breathe of air. Yet he didn't shift away as he still had his nose and forehead against yours. “How was it? Not very bad for the second time, right?”

Unable to look at him in the eyes, you curled your body and buried your face, snuggling against his chest. “Stop asking how it was right away after we did it,” you whined, giving playful slaps while he chuckled at your reaction.