#no offense taken ofc - sorry for taking so long to come back to this

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

(re: abba again) I definitely don't disagree that the pacing in Part 5 is awful, nor do I disagree that Abbacchio didn't really have time to grow as a person — we don't really know how long he was out of the force for before he eventually joined Bucciarati — as such we don't even know how long he was a member of Passione for. What we do know, by his own admission, is that he believes society failed him. It had no place for him, and he had no home amongst it.

His reunion in his final scene never struck me as being congratulatory, but rather that his partner was, for lack of a better term, the singular Good Cop; the one good thing about Abbacchio's entire time with the force as well as the source of his immense guilt. Because as far as we're led to believe, his partner wasn't corrupt like the rest of them, he was just genuinely trying. From Abba's POV then, all cops are bastards except that one. (Although, probably more realistically, all people are bastards, no exceptions.)

(Sorry if this sounds argumentative, I rarely get to talk Abba meta, and he's my fav.)

The thing is, like I implied in my original post about this, that I'm looking at the use of "ACAB" in a fairly serious way. In the sense that you would use it in real life - it's not about passing judgement on every individual police officer, it's about looking at the greater picture, and acknowledging the place of cops as "cogs in the machine" - including how they try to go beyond that.

So in the way that I'm presenting Abbacchio's view - or lack thereof - that "ACAB", I'm not asking the question of "does Abbacchio think every cop individually sucks (but the one whose death he caused)?" but rather "does Abbacchio, the way that he is written and presented to us, have the sufficient knowledge, introspection and maturity to learn and understand that All Cops Are Bastards?" And looking at it through this lens, my opinion remains that I'm not so sure.

There isn't much to characterise this other cop either from what I remember, other than the important role he played in Abbacchio's trauma. I don't think the writing tells a story that is complete and compelling enough to give us a character who can be assumed to, with certainty, eventually gain the ability to say something as serious as "ACAB".

Of course, I had no intentions of dragging this concept for very long - when you push it too far, it starts to become a little bit silly to spend a lot of time looking at the concept that All Cops Are Bastards from the lens of... Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. With the way I presented my thoughts, my intention was more so to look at one aspect of the way the police institution is presented in this piece of media than it was to analyse Abbacchio's overall characterisation.

With Abbacchio's backstory, and the concept of having the criminals be the heroes of the story, Part 5 portrays the police a certain way. My point of view is that it's not very deep, and as for Abbacchio's relationship with it, if anything he was more so part of the problem and refused to acknowledge it to the end. That he grew throughout the story and that he didn't work through it all can both be true at the same time. The way I'm looking at it is that I'd be interested in more engaging, deeper stories with such themes.

Personally, I was never a fan of Abbacchio. That being said, he's one of these characters I feel like I'd have to rewatch or re-read the story to be certain of my current opinion about. When I finished watching the Part 5 anime and saw a lot of Bruabba fanart I was super confused because I had not noticed a single thing they had going on. My ass was Not Paying Attention to that man

[st4rbwrry]

𝒩𝒪𝒪𝒦𝐼𝐸.

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: getou isn’t fond of the new gardener you hired who’s clearly flirting with you when he’s not home.

warnings ౨ৎ 2.7k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, cunninglingus/face riding, cottage core au? + getou’s a farmer, missionary in da kitchen, praising ofc, exhibitionism, jealousy, possessiveness, getou’s kinda rude, sub / dom dynamic, established relationship, rough play, m oral, impact play, unprotected, pet names ex. [ baby, sweetheart ], minors aren’t welcomed! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

getou doesn’t appreciate that you aren’t greeting him with his usual kisses after you raise on your tippy toes to smooch him after he comes home from a long day of churning butter and tending to livestock. it doesn’t make him happy to know that you’re not tending to his attention and rather giving it to another man after he strolls through your large kitchen, that he built for you, to head into the back of your farmhouse to find you giggling and conversing with the new gardener. a gardener that you personally hired that he had yet to meet.

he could smell the pan of shepherds pie and cornbread in the oven, ignoring the way his stomach growls hungrily and it quickly being consumed with irritation. you’re wearing your cute pink apron with tiny patterns of sunflowers and bunnies as you hold a woven basket of freshly picked strawberries the man before you tossed into. having a conversation about fucking strawberries. he didn’t expect this man to be. . . of your type. tall, nice smile, good hair, makes you laugh a little too fucking hard. what about fruits could possibly be so fucking funny, [♡]?

“what a surprise,” getou’s voice is laced with annoyance, deep and causing the two to go silent as he makes his way down the steps to stand directly next to you. you blink, knowing your husband very well and easily you could tell he’s off.

“hi, baby! this is matteo, he’s our new gardener! we were talking a lot about the new setup i plan on having!” the smile on your face is pure, looking back and forth between getou and your gardener. “he just started today.”

“hey, man. nice to meet you. your wife told me all about you,” matteo remains professional, extending his hand for a handshake. you roll your lips in, waiting for your husband to comply with respect. it’s silent as you stare between both men, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck rise from anxiousness.

“mhm,” is all getou can say, matteo taken aback by his approach. it’s extremely rude, and you blink excessively to keep your composure. taking a deep breath, you form a tight lipped smile towards your gardener.

“excuse me for a moment,” you speak, side eyeing getou before pulling him to the side, matteo continuing his job by picking juicy fruits from their stems.

“what’s your deal? that was fucking rude,” you denounce, gawking up at him with a raised brow. getou folds his bulky arms, not understanding how you’re acting dumb right now. you knew this would piss him off.

getou leans down to get closer to you, lips inches from your ear. “who told you to hire somebody like this?"

"hire somebody like what?" the man retaliates, overhearing getou’s weak attempt of whispering to you, taking offense. regardless, he spoke on his name when he was right there.

getou turns his face only an inch or so, barely giving the man full attention. you swallow, his face nearly touching your own possessively, like an animal protecting it’s mate. getou then switches his eyes fully, intensely staring at the man. "like someone she'd fuck."

his immature response causes you to step away from him with a look of disgust, brows pinched with anger. you couldn’t believe his mouth. you’re not sure what the fuck’s gotten into him, but it wasn’t cute. quite frankly, he looked stupid.

“you’re making a fucking fool of yourself,” you spat, eyes burning. knocking your head back in the sweet gardeners direction, you hold your hand over your heart apologetically. “i am truly sorry for my husband’s rudeness. please forgive me for this, but i think it’s best if you go. i will give you a call tomorrow. i’m sorry again.”

the man nods only once, keeping his focus solely on you, not even bothering to glance in your husband’s direction. his possessiveness a black cloud over the party. “it’s not a problem at all. have a great rest of your day, ma’am.”

the minute your gardener is out of view, that’s when you give getou an irritated snarl, looking him up and down as if the man had no shame. which he didn’t, and that was the problem. “what is wrong with you?!”

getou intakes air as you strut away angrily, heading back into your kitchen to adapt into the ignoring him bubble and completely tuning into your dinner prepping. since you have freshly picked strawberries, you decided to start a mixture for muffins you could sell to the neighborhood tomorrow morning. a festival was being held at the ranch a few blocks down, already promising a few ladies you’d whip something up sweet.

getou follows behind, studying as you huff and puff to yourself while gathering eggs, milk and other things you needed.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“because it’s fucking stupid. why’d i hire someone to help me out? oh my god, such a mystery.”

“you’re being immature.”

that causes you to stop all movements. holding onto the edges of the island and staring at him with disbelief, mouth actually drawn open as you scoff. “i’m immature? because you didn’t just disrespect that man for no reason. you know him or sum?”

“don’t act slow. you hired that man ‘cause he’s someone you can eye fuck when i’m not home. don’t pretend you don’t find him attractive,” getou grits his teeth.

you roll your eyes. “ohh, so it’s jealousy! why would i want to cheat on someone i’m in love with? you’re being extremely distrustful. take that shit out of my kitchen, suguru.”

“say that again,” he’s approaching you now, getou observing as you cross your arms and pretend to be unfazed by how much bigger he was compared to you. his bare feet thumps along the floor as he nears you, hands in the pockets of his dark washed jeans, shoulders broad as he stared down at you darkly. now your body’s pressed up against the kitchen counter, turning your head the opposite way to avoid eye contact.

“suguru,” you stand on what you say, uncaring. your husband deviously grins.

getou kisses his teeth smugly. you practically moan when his hand grips your jaw to bring your attention back, fingers denting into your cheeks to make your lips pout, head tilted back. “watch that mouth of yours. there’s no need to be bratty.”

teeth sinks into your lips he gawks at for a split second before meeting your eyes again. a feeble noise comes from you as he swiftly pulls up your white sundress, hands on the backs of your thighs to spread you open, fingers pulling your pussy open. not surprised to see you weren't wearing underwear. really, that pisses him off even further. it’s windy out and you were engaging in conversation with that man knowing your pussy was bare. he wants to laugh, seeing how wet you are already. fucking nympho. even though you’re mad, you can’t ignore how hot his touch makes you. you gulp, holding onto the edge of the counter as your gut flips after he crouched on one knee.

his breath hits your clit, and instantly your thighs tremble, getou slowly sticking his tongue out his mouth, wide, long, and slick with saliva. it hovers over your clit, barely touching it. part of you wants to grab his hair and shove him down, but the look in his eyes says not to try it. his fingers come up to your face, extending two of the long digits inside of your mouth. you suck obediently, moaning around them while rolling forward towards his, aching for it. his free hand smacks your inner thigh causing you to release his fingers and whimper, getou wasting zero time and curling them deep into you, shaking them frivolously as his lips suction on your clit, kissing your pussy deeply, using so much saliva.

his stare is hard on you the entire time, wrist moving instantaneously as he fucks you with them. he’s having a ball watching you wither and roll your hips, squealing and raising your thighs higher to your chest, listening to his fingers slam into you, that gushing sound of your pussy coating his fingers.

"c-can’t. . .”

"shut up," briskly, he pulls his fingers out and spanks your clit with them, standing to his feet, towering over you. you rest your head back against the wall by the window, shifting your body since your ass hurt a little from being on a granite countertop.

most of his words are blocked out as you watch the sexually pent-up man drag his pants down until they sit at his waist, pussy clenching at the dark pubic hairs sticking out, lust in your eyes as his veiny, big hand fists his cock. the thick vein leading up to the crown leaking precum makes you smile hazily.

"look at me when i’m talking to you."

you're too fucking mesmerized by him. his slightly dirty white tshirt is hiked up now, godly sculpted abs enticing you to run your fingers over them with a giddy laugh. getou tilts his head to the side, clenching his jaw.

"hey," he calls to you, snapping his fingers twice in your face, voice deeper than usual. you can see that he's not up for bullshit. he’s arched over you, hair sticking to his forehead as he places his right hand on your lower back, arching into him until your chest presses against his. "listen to me when i talk to you, woman.”

the smell of his skin is intoxicating, reaching your hands behind him to claw at his ass, open mouth on his chin, moaning as he slides deep into you, looking down at you with a groan escaping his throat, furrowing his thick brows. getou tries not to lose it, because despite his frustration, there's no way he could deny just how fucking good you felt pulling him deep right now. you hold tight, eyes hazy as he pounds into you without another word, arm stretching over to press his palm on the cabinet above, balancing himself and dragging you to meet him thrust for thrust.

"pussy so needy for me. it fuckin’ better be,” please shut up, is what you think. his voice is too damn addictive, and the way he fucks you, virulently, like he fucking despised you . . . you didn't know if you could take much more. the other half of your brain is the opposite, thanking him over and over.

"oh, look, princess. there’s your favorite man,” it doesn't register that the two of you are legit fucking near an open window where anyone could see. “let’s say hi, baby."

unsure why he came back, it only takes ten seconds for your sweet gardener to immediately be swept with trauma, catching a glimpse at the two of you, getou’s dark eyes burning into him while yours are shut to hide the embarrassment, stomach still flipping with rouse. his fingers has your jaw locked still to keep your fucked out face in the direction of the man who’s nothing short of unimpressed. tasteless, he thinks. wasting no time and turning away to hop back inside of his truck, only coming because he forgot to give you back the key to your garage. his lips are by your ear now. "looks like we’ll have to hire someone else.”

"you’re s-so . . . mean,” it’s the only thing you can think of, trembling and yanking your face out of his grasp. you wanna say you hate him, but deep down you knew this is what you've been craving all along. he’s exactly how you wanted him to be; lecherous. "fuck, can’t stand you.”

"you love me, sweetheart,” he coed, you hiccup. sobbing as he throws one of your legs over his arm, angling his hips slightly to the right and hitting into you faster, rolling your neck back, listening to how viscous his skin claps with your own, and his breath fans over your face.

"awe," he pouts, giving your forehead a chaste kiss. "y‘not gonna say it back?”

“d’nt deserve it,” you’re slurring your words and it pisses you off how dumb he makes you. his hand is around your neck now, choking you until you feel the blood rushing to your skull, luring the back of your own hand to your lips, using it as some sort of blockage for how loud you were being. louder than usual.

inching his lips towards yours, he studies how desperate you are to latch your lips with his, only for him to snatch them away. “then you don’t deserve my kiss.”

a frustrated whine leaves your throat, getou humming tauntingly, delicately skimming his bitten red lips over yours with a moan following along with a whispered ‘no’. tightening his lock around your neck, he rolls his hips deeper, your hand clutching his wrist with tears in your eyes. “not until you tell me you love me.”

you gently sink your teeth into the back of your hand, getou leaning closer before sloppily kissing at your palm where your lips rested, an evil stare painted his expression. he sucks, licks, and moans on your hand, knowing you were wishing he'd do that to your mouth instead. fuck, that was enough to get you to the breaking point. thighs trembling as you drop your mouth open, nothing coming out.

"wait, are you gonna cum?" his mouth upturns as he widens his eyes and mouth with fake surprise. "you’re cumming, aren't you? don’t cum. if you cum, i’ll stop."

"suguru, fucking stop—"

"stop what, huh? why you talkin' back?" shoving his thumb in your mouth, he fucks you harder, body jolting as your eyes roll back and your mouth drools, clutching his wrist harder to keep him there. "weren't you gonna cum?"

"yessss!" you wail, tears falling down your eyes. that coil in the pit of your stomach is ready to snap, getou’s sadistic voice ringing in your ears as he praises you, hips ramming harder to get you to break, clutching the back of his neck and screaming into his chest, giving him the answer he wants, riding the wave. "love you. love you.”

“good girl, good girl,” he proceeds to fuck you through it, just enough until you're pushing at his stomach to stop, kissing up the side of his neck drunkenly. getou slides out of you, holding back a moan before he's grabbing your hand and pulling you off the counter, holding your waist so you don't fall over.

"knees, now."

you're more than happy to lower to your knees, already knowing what to prepare for, lulled, teary eyes focusing on him and the slick coated cock stretching over your face. you hold onto the back of his thighs, widening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, getou holding your head still before gliding his dick inside the cave of heat now inundating him, jaw dropping, using the other hand to hold the cabinet once more and mercilessly fucking your throat. his moans are coarse, grunting and throwing his head back, hips stuttering as he holds you still and shoots deep in your mouth, cursing thousands of times he nearly filled the dictionary.

"swallow it and show me," and you do, without hesitation, sticking your tongue out proudly and it makes getou even prouder. "that’s my girl."

"whatever," you wipe the side of your mouth, getou lifting you off the floor, legs still too weak to function.

“there’s that mouth again, sweetheart. cut it short before i fuck you harder,” oh, he’s serious. that darkness in his eyes telling you not to try it again.

“s-sorry, baby. love you,” you give him those pretty doe eyes he falls weak to, rubbing your hands over his waist while placing your chin on his chest. batting your lashes innocently.

getou hums. “tell me that after you get rid of that fuckin’ gardener.”

© 𝒮����𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[txbbo]

I've been debating making this because this is definitely not what my blog is known for and I was worried that people wouldn't want to see it, but with the amount of shit im seeing on twitter it's compelled me to make this because I'm so frustrated.

I feel like I could make 100 posts about 'Cancel Culture' and it wouldn't be enough, so I'm just going to focus on what caused me to write this tonight - the Tommy situation. *Warning for a VERY long post below*

To be clear, Tommy has been in 'hot water' on twitter for the past couple weeks, roughly starting with the KSI collaboration where he made a joke about dream stans.

Last week, when the SBI 'exposing account' got made and twitter hyped it up, someone made a Tommy account and made a thread of things he needed to be '''educated''' on: https://twitter.com/idktommyinnit/status/1379158964148002821?s=20

I'll let you read it for yourself (and come to your own conclusion) but to me.... half of this stuff does not require a twitter thread? Breaking it down accusation by accusation:

1) 'The Mexican accent' - the clips show he is clearly only doing it when copying big Q (who famously exaggerates his own accent) and there is zero malicious intent (Big Q is also IN the 3 clips mentioned in the thread, and obviously didn't tell Tommy it was offensive). There's debates in the comments from people who think it is offensive and people who don't, so I'm not trying to pick a side. To avoid accidentally offending anyone, maybe it is best for him to stop, but the way twitter acts as if he was purposefully doing this to offend people is just not true.

2- 'Making a slave joke' - Even saying that feels wrong, because it suggests Tommy is doing something awful. Instead, they are referring to the 'bit' that Tommy, Techno, Tubbo and Ant were involved in, when Tommy and Techno took Tubbo and Ant as their slave. People are taking this vod and using it to accuse Tommy of being insensitive to Black people, but I think people are just assuming the worst. Slavery existed long before the transatlantic slave trade and still exists today. This is a role-play server - Tommy 'forced' Ant to work for him and used the word slave, which to me is exactly what was happening? People 'murder' others on the SMP, people 'kidnap' on the SMP, people are 'terrorists' on the SMP, and all happen without issue. To add, Ant is a WHITE man. Tommy taking a WHITE man as a slave is not something uber problematic.

3- 'His reply to Techno's 'murder is bad' tweet'. - I get people saying that Techno's initial tweet was insensitive, but saying Tommy's agreement to this from almost over a year ago is something notable and worth addressing is just super nitpicky and is clearly only in there to pad out the thread. It also makes me wonder what other CC's interacted with it and if THEY should be cancelled too (according to twitter).

4 - 'The saying slurs' tweet / jokes about 'whats the worst word you know' - This one I can kinda see how people might not like it. However, it's clearly a 'poke' at his friends, making them seem like bad people. To me, its in the same vein as 'Tubbo is a Tory' or when Tubbo shoots back that 'Tommy is a Nigel Farage fan'. They're obviously not, but its making fun of your friends by saying they are, and mockingly making them out out to be bad people.

5- 'Covid jokes' - People are taking jokes he made about him 'having covid' and saying he shouldn't joke about this, even going as far to linking it to asian hate crimes. I don't even know how to explain that that this is just? not a 'cancellable offence'? I'm sorry but if I hear anyone in my family coughing I make a little joke that 'they better not have covid' and I know other people do. I have someone in my family who is extremely vulnerable to Covid and if they caught it, would quite literally die, but I can understand that jokes like these are harmless. The whole internet had a running joke that we were in a 'panoramic' or 'Panera' or 'insert any word that sounds like pandemic.

This thread got a lot of attention and anything he tweeted afterwards was spammed with the link and there were so many people upset that he hadn't addressed it. I saw so many people say how 'upset' and 'disappointed' they were in him.

Going on to today, this happened: https://twitter.com/khasiid/status/1380611890104139776?s=20

I get it, it looks bad. But for context (which the tweet doesn't give), the reply was only up for less than a minute. It was obvious to me, even BEFORE Tommy addressed it in his stream (clip here: https://twitter.com/cowrpse/status/1380640046202593283?s=20 ) that it was a mistake. In the clip, he clearly acknowledges his mistake and seems embarrassed. To me, this situation should just be laid to rest because a mistake does not need this much attention, but twitter disagrees.

In case it wasn't obvious by now, the tide is turning against Tommy and people are less willing to ignore genuine mistakes and assume the worst.

Today, during his birthday stream people were clearly already waiting for him to mess up. Around half way through, he started saying 'finna' out of context and Tubbo joined in. This led to tons of tweets telling him he was misusing AAVE, and while there were plenty of people willing to be patient and educate, there were also people seeing this as an example of him being a 'bad person' and someone who should be 'without a platform'. I think people forget that not everyone has the same internet upbringing as they do. In general, I think its noted that the misuse of AAVE is something that has just recently been brought to attention. I learned about it through tiktok and stan twitter, and I don't think it's unimaginable that a British 17 year old boy (who is not active on either) has never heard of 'African American Vernacular English'.

Just for a fuller picture, today has also brought about another 'criticism' that I just had to address.

1) 'Tommy made a KKK joke' - Like the 'slavery' point, saying this is extremely misleading. It makes people think the worst. Here's the clip: https://twitter.com/ghostburz/status/1380673589612011522?s=20

Here, Tommy and Tubbo are both joking about Tubbo's 'bit' of naming his alt streams 'aaaaaaaaaa', 'bbbbbbb', 'cccccc', etc and how it would've been bad if it was 'kkkkkkkk' (for obvious reasons). That is literally it. It is a less than 20 second clip. Acknowledging that people woulda thought about the 'KKK' is not him 'not understanding Black issues', its a throwaway joke about the obvious.

Lastly, someone on twitter has made a tommyinnit (address asap) doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tZEZtBzikS-EYYkssfFtwVOoFqOwCK0zhStLe6H1wCc/edit

I've basically already covered everything in this document, but I wanted to mention how extremely 'guilt trippy' the whole thing is. I struggled to come up with the perfect word for the situation, and I am open to hearing other peoples opinion, but as I have mentioned none of these things Tommy has been accused of were done with malicious intent, and some I believe don't even need addressed at all.

'slavery is a source of astronomical trauma for black people, and isn’t something to be taken lightly if you’re to look into the horrors of the slave trade."

and "Oftentimes they are the last words we hear before we die and it really is not Tommy’s place to joke about words that affect us so negatively."

Are extremely emotional words for a 17-year-old boy to hear on his birthday, for stuff that I believe has been taken out of context and blown out of proportion.

I really feel bad for him, because such a large proportion of twitter (which ofc is the loudest side of the fanbase) is angry at him and is demanding (as the document says) ''either a stream or twitter thread/twitlonger to addressing this' and 'a long and serious apology instead of a short statement pre-stream'.

We all know how twitter works, and unless his apology is perfect (which to me means apologising for stuff that he should't have to, as explained in the thread), twitter will continue with this weird hyper focus on everything he does, and it's not going to end well.

Twitter's mentality of 'putting everything this person has done that could ever be considered problematic' into one neat little thread is so unhelpful and counter intuitive. I got overwhelmed reading some of the stuff people were saying about him, I can't imagine how he feels.

I feel like I have more to say but at risk of writing an essay longer than my actual work I have to do, I'm going to end here.

[ak8shi]

FWB HQ Boys: In which you beat the player at his own game!

warnings: Time skip spoilers, mentions of sex(all characters are 18+), alcohol, stupid people in love

a/n: ahh I’m sorry I’ve been a little MIA!!! But I’m back with this pls enjoy ! I think the fandom really make germaphobia his only personality trait sometimes which makes me sad because I think he’s actually a quirky/classy dude and very functional in social situations,, I hate to say it but ya’ll would get played by him… sorry.

━Sakusa Kiyoomi

Some of you may be like ???? Omi fucks around ?? how ?? BUT he definitely does in his own way

He probably doesn’t do much in high school to be honest, he’s mostly focused on improving as a volleyball player and achieving his goals

Once he reaches pro level though,,, it’s a different story lmfao

I can see him being picky as hell about his hookups, but just because he’s a bit of a germaphobe doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel attraction or doesn’t have needs…

….He’s so hot too… girl

His hook-ups are always taken seriously though… like he’s the type that feels like he has a professional image to upkeep, so he always arranges things beforehand; he’s definitely not messy about it and sets clear boundaries

I think what makes him kind of a player is how standoffish he can be…and he doesn’t really give anyone a chance because he doesn’t think they what it takes to deal with his lifestyle lmao

He’s just like, its easier to call the uber right after, get into the shower, and wait until he can hear the front door of his apartment shut I’m screamingg

Sakusa also isn’t one to kiss and tell, even with the boys… he doesn’t think its tasteful and would rather not have Atsumu up his ass about his flings

ANYWAYS,, let’s get into this, so you know Atsumu through mutual friends and met during college, and the two of you just instantly clicked since you also were a part of the same sports medicine program as him

Atsumu signed with MSBY and you were so happy for him, but you were bummed because you were busy with PT graduate school and couldn’t really attend any of his games

A year passed and you found yourself texting Tsumu to see if he could meet up and grab coffee since you were on winter break!!

You: hey I’m back in town wanna grab coffee sometime?

Him: who is this

You: I see you haven’t changed ❤️

LMFAO, so you catch up with Atsumu and he talks about his new career and his teammates, he seems so happy :(( we love to see that!!

He invites you to MSBY’s game the following weekend, and you’re pumped to go!! Tsumu got you great seats, and he meets you before warmups to make sure you’re okay finding your way around

Atsumu: don’t take yer eyes off me <3

You:

He’s so…

You’re enjoying the match and you even go to grab Onigiri from Osamu’s stand, but you can’t seem to look away from number 15 on Atsumu’s team

He’s .., scrumptious to say the least 🥴

Like he’s so composed and calculated on the court, and you find it so funny how he rolls his eyes whenever Tsumu says something to him and how Tsumu gets so heated about it 💀

The match ends and you go down to meet Atsumu near the lockers, showing the security your family/friend pass 😌

You walk through the halls trying to locate the setter, but you can’t seem to figure out where he is

The only person in the hall is the tall, dark haired man that caught your eye earlier; he is already walking towards the exit with a mask covering his face, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, sweats embroidered with “Sakusa” adorning his body we’re all looking..... respectfully

He’s truly so intimidating but you’re like….highkey lost… so you don’t really have another option

You catch up with him, poking his shoulder gently; he turns around and his attention on you is almost STARTLING.. like his eyes are SO dark

Him: can I help you

You: sir… if you don’t rail me, I’m gonna have to intervene‼️😈😹

After getting over your initial shock, you hear multiple footsteps rumbling down the hallway towards the both of you

Sakusa lets out an annoyed sigh, muttering about how he has to go, but before he can escape you hear Atsumu’s loud voice LMFAO

“OMIIII, where are you goin’? Its team karaoke night remember?”

Tsumu sees you and slings an arm around your shoulders, “Oh-? So I see you’ve met our outside hitter Omi?”

You glance over at Sakusa, his expressionless eyes glued to your face, then slowly trailing down to analyze the way Atsumu casually has you tucked under his arm

Atsumu nudges him, and he grumbles that he’ll meet them after changing at home before walking off in the direction of the private parking garage

You meet the rest of the MSBY boys in the uber, and find them super friendly and welcoming; Bokuto and Hinata buy the first round of drinks at the karaoke bar, but you only have one because you have work to finish the next day WE STAN

Atsumu already has a pink glow setting into his cheeks when you see the boys turn their attention to Sakusa walking through the front door, looking as handsome as ever in his dress pants and fitted white t shirt

They all shout out incoherent hello’s, and he takes the only open seat next to you with a glass of gin and tonic in his hand he smells so good god

You’re unsure what comes over you, but you find yourself turning towards him, and you just start asking him about himself and his career, and surprisingly he’s very polite and much more animated than you previously thought

His voice is like…so alluring and he never looks away from you when you talk, its like he’s absorbing every word

Meanwhile, Atsumu is stumbling over the stage with Bokuto belting Love by Keisha Cole LMFAOO😭

Tsumu kind of ‘warned’ you in the car ride over that Sakusa was a germaphobe, but you know that Atsumu tends to invade people’s personal space sometimes and it probably wasn’t as dramatic as he made it out to be

However, you weren’t expecting the outside hitter to lean over from his seat after checking the time on his phone, whispering in your ear, asking you if you wanted to meet him at his place later than night WHEW

Girl I would be sweating… and you say yes ofc because who’s going to pass up this type of opportunity-

He gives you a charming smile and is like,, okay cool, I’ll see you later then 😊 I’m dead

Ya’ll exchange phone numbers and he’s like if you need any help with my idiot teammates let me know before he takes off

You don’t tell Tsumu about your little… entanglement plans dsnjaknda but honestly he wouldn’t even remember based on the way he’s slumped against you in the uber he owes you big time

You get home after dropping off Tsumu at Osamu’s, and operation dick appointment with the professional volleyball player is put into action 😈

He sends an uber over to get you ladies do not settle for less please, and you’re BIG nervous but in a good way as in you know this dick is about to be bomb af

SO you’re standing in front of his apartment door, and when he opens it, he’s still in the clothes he wore to the bar and its like 1 am he’s so powerful

Um I feel like he would get straight to it honestly, probably starts with a little convo on the couch and then…

YOU WEREN’T AWARE HE WAS SO DIRTY,,, it was SO good too like after getting home that night you’re going through a crisis… like you had so much chemistry together for having just met, and you wonder if he feels the same way🥺

You caught yourself in sleepless states some nights, kept awake by the thoughts of the way his hands felt against your skin, the way his five o’clock shadow gently rubbed against your face when you kissed, and how he would hold you(only after a thorough shower together of course)

As it happens more and more, he lets you into his life little by little, and you notice and remember small facts about him and he often remembers a lot of the things you tell him about you, its really enjoyable for both of you

Its weirdly domestic to a point but that’s why its so good for both of you???it adds a bit of spice ??

Sakusa: can you come over tonight

You: sorry the retainer is in already <3 no dick sucking for me tonight <3

Him: I bought pastries from that cafe you like

You: say less✈️ I’m coming💃

AND he HAS jokes okay, like he’s funny as hell and very witty when his true self comes out; but he’s also a HUGE tease and he’ll say something completely straight-faced that someone else might take offense to like “you look ugly,” but you just know he’s kidding from being around him long enough and from seeing the little glint in his dark eyes

It becomes a routine thing while you’re home honestly, and you try your best to hide it from Atsumu because you just KNOW you would never hear the end of it; for all he knows, you met him that one time at the bar and that was that

Everything is going smoothly until you slip up at one of their games

You were sitting in the waiting area with the team (mostly talking to Atsumu), when he just says something that makes your short circuit

Atsumu: what kind of animal do ya think omi would be? An octopus maybe?

You: yeah I mean with those flexible wrists it makes sense

Atsumu: what the fawk🤠

He’s like… how do you even know about his flexible wrists IT TOOK ME 6 MONTHS TO GET TO THAT STAGE WITH HIM-

Oops, lmfao so you kind of tell him about everything and he’s literally shocked for you, mostly because he doesn’t want you to get hurt :(

Atsumu: So I see he’s just sleeping with ANYONE anyone

LMAO noo he definitely thinks you’re too good for him and he kind of lectures you, telling you that he had a hunch that he messes around with girls like that, but also you’re an adult and you can take care of yourself, and it isn’t like it’s a serious thing!!

Meanwhile, Omi is like going through a bit of a crisis all alone because everything around him reminds him of you or something you said when you were together

He got with people who were compatible sexually often, but he never had the urge to have them stay over after the deed; he usually immediately called them an uber and wouldn’t speak to them again

He found himself thinking about seeing you in the stands at his games, wishing you were there to cheer for him only, and he adored the way you respected his boundaries unlike many of his hookups

Atsumu probably notices something is off with him at practice

Atsumu: hey…if ya ever want to talk about somethin’-

Sakusa: no

Girl… he doesn’t disclose any of this to anyone

Its nearing the end of your break, and you head over to sakusa’s for probably the last time before you go back to school

You’re kind of at the point where you don’t think anything will happen and you know you shouldn’t get your hopes up, and it goes how it usually goes? Except he kind of hugs you goodbye and your heart goes: 🦋🦋🦋

You go back to school, occasionally texting Tsumu about your graduate program, and before you know it, like 5 months pass by and you’re back for summer!

Tsumu texts you and is like… sorry but I’m forcing you to be my plus-one tonight for this dinner thing I have to go to

So you dress up and he comes to pick you up, and you’re really not sure why you were surprised to see Kiyoomi sitting at the table when you arrive you give Atsumu a nice smack on the back of the head for not warning you

You sit down at the table after greeting everyone, trying your best to not act awkward when you shoot sakusa a small smile that he returns politely (but you don’t see it because of his mask)

Atsumu sits weirdly close to you the entire dinner with his arm around the back of your chair, and he’s just acting strange in general??? Like he’s bragging about your degree program and about your accomplishments, you just know he’s trying something funny; but you don’t really say anything because you don’t want to disrespect him in front of the team’s staff as a guest

You almost choke on your wine and you catch on when Bokuto starts making comments after Atsumu says something,

Atsumu: …so yeah, pretty much she should be our next president in my humble opinion

Bokuto: 🙈WOAH. WHAT?😍 HOW COULD SHE GET ANY BETTER⁉️🙄 OR HOTTER⁉️💪🏼💋

You, sitting there: 🧍‍♀️

He’s so bad at acting I’m crying..,, it becomes so obvious that they’re trying to make Kiyoomi jealous

(the boys plotted beforehand, trying to get Omi to ask you out officially; after you left, he literally would never shut up about you whenever Atsumu mentioned you, and it was just obvious he was in his feels when it came to you)

Atsumu: she’s studying at a café tonight for finals

Sakusa: Yeah so I’m glad you brought it up, because I’ve been thinking about it for days. Fine I guess I’ll say it. Her favorite coffee blend is French roast and she only likes a dash of sugar with a lot of cream, but it has to be hazelnut creamer or else she doesn’t like any-

Everyone in the gym: 🗿

LMAO ANYWAYS ITS LOWKEY WORKING you look over at him and his face is like stone.. girl..

The dinner is almost over and Atsumu gets up to go to the restroom with a wink I hate him, and you get up to catch a breath of fresh air outside

You sit on a bench for a minute, calming yourself down after the eventful dinner, but then you see the door to the restaurant swing open, Sakusa looking around the corner before spotting you

Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks over and asks if he can join you, inspecting the bench before sitting down, pulling his mask down as well

He eases into a conversation by just asking you how you’re doing, basic stuff, but then in the middle of you going off on a tangent about your stupid professor, he stops you

“I missed you.”

He crosses his legs, not looking at you as he takes your hand, intertwines it with his, and places it in his lap

You gaze at him, taken back at his confession, noticing the slight pinkness tinging his pale cheeks

You say you missed him too, and then he’s asking you if you would like to go on an actual date with him

You: wait are you asking me out officially?

Him: Yes. No I’m not. Yes I am❤️

SKSLD Please he’s awkward help him a little, you agree and then you hear a tap on the window behind you, you turn around to see Tsumu, Bokuto and Adriah behind you with big grins on their faces LMFAO 🤡

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the small upturn of the corners of his lips as he hears Bokuto happily scream through the glass

[fruityutas]

wild | l.yy

yangyang x gn!reader

not proofread

genre ~ best friend!au, pining, one-sided love, angst, happyish ending

wc ~ 1.9k

warnings ~ cursing? uhh mentions of food, and ofc the angst lol

synopsis ~ yangyang would always be your best friend, but a person in love can only take so much before their breaking point

note ~ based on troye sivan’s song wild, and part of the blue neighbourhood series

taglist ~ @du0tine , @badwithten​ , @softsungchan​

the school year was coming to an end, and that meant summer was beginning. liu yangyang, your best friend, was raving on about all the plans he had for you two. you were barely listening, focusing more on him than what he was saying. you’d liked yangyang since middle school, and that was seven years ago. now seniors in high school, he still didn’t know. you honestly did plan on keeping it that way, but plans get spoiled all the time don’t they?

“hey, are you even listening?” yangyang snaps you out of the fantasy land in your head. “uh, yeah you were talking about… uh the water park?” he rolls his eyes. “no. but good guess, you doofus.” times like this made your heart pound. he was so close to you, staring into your soul. it made the butterflies erupt in your stomach. it was getting harder to avoid your feelings for him, the past seven years building them up. “should we get some ice cream? i heard this new place across town is really good.” you nod in agreeance and get up, dusting yourself off. “c’mon we can go in my car.” you both walk the short route to his house before he drives you to the shop. the hot air signaling the first breath of summer in your quaint town. the bell to the shop rings its sweet tune to alert of any customers coming in. yangyang races ahead of you and begins his order, turning to you after he finished. “i can get mine, it’s fine.” “if you don’t order right now-” you punch him in the arm before stepping up to the counter. “one scoop of mint choco in a cone please.” the worker makes quick work, and soon you’re stepping back outside into the humid air with cones in hand.

cause there’s still too long till the weekend, too long till i drown in your hands. too long since i’ve been a fool.

harboring your feelings for yangyang was hard, especially since he always looked so kissable. you hated yourself for not acting on your feelings. every time he talked about a girl, it broke a piece of your heart. you knew he didn’t like you back, and you tried to accept that. still, loving someone who could never love you back in the way you wanted was painful. everything about the world around you reminded you of him. almost every second of free time was spent with him, and when you were younger, you made a pact with each other. “i solemnly swear that we’ll always be best friends.” you smiled at the memory of you sitting with him in your backyard, sweaty from a game of tag, muttering the words to each other. if keeping yangyang in your life meant being hurt from this one-sided love, then you would hurt for the rest of your life. he meant so much to you and throwing that away was out of the question.

you’re driving me wild, wild, wild.

the first month of summer, yangyang kept his promise of hanging out with you, but he met someone during that time. she was everything you wanted to be to him. delicate face, soft voice, amazing personality. to say you were jealous was an understatement, every waking moment of the day you wanted to despise her so much, but it was impossible. she was perfect in every way. the days went on and yangyang would still hang out with you, but he would constantly talk about her. it hurt knowing he found someone to like, and it not being you. but you made a promise to yourself to be happy as long as he was.

never knew loving could hurt this good.

the weeks went on, and yangyang lessened his interactions with you in favor of his girlfriend. you would always say that it didn’t matter, but oh boy did it hurt. he told you one summer night that he thought he loved her. “she’s just so…” “perfect?” he snaps his fingers in agreement. “how do you always know what i’m trying to say?” you send him a small smile, patting his shoulder. “because i love you.” it came out a mumble, not meant to be heard by him. “what was that?” you stutter out a cheap excuse, terrified he heard you. “be...cause i’ve known you for so long!” yeah nice save idiot. 

the days grew longer and air hotter. it was the second month of summer and you were getting busy preparing for college, packing all your things little by little. you’d still call yangyang daily like normal, and talk about future plans and your days. you were going to the beach in three days, and yangyang was supposed to join you, it was a tradition between you. “oh, i forgot to tell you that i can’t come to the beach this year.” you stopped packing clothes, dumbfounded. “well why not?” a sigh was heard from his end. “i promised yingqi that she could pick a day to have a date and she chose wednesday… i wouldn’t have been able to do both since they overlap. i’m sorry but i promise that i’ll make up for it.” you stay silent, tears forming in your eyes. “uh, ok well that’s cool. just um, let me know when you come up with something else we can do. but listen i gotta go my mom is calling me for dinner, i’ll talk with you tomorrow yangs.”

you’re driving me wild.

the beach trip was lonely without yangyang there. your parents could tell his absence affected you more than you’d like to admit. it just wasn’t the same without him there. after getting back, you didn’t hear from him for three days. you were worried that maybe something happened while you were gone so you went to his house. his mother opened the door, giving you a much-needed hug. “it’s been so long, y/n! where have you been?” you laugh, she was always the worrier. “it’s been a bit busy with college preparations and all. do you know where yangyang is? he hasn’t texted or called in three days.” she snorted, letting you in the house. “that girlfriend of his has taken a lot of his time lately, but he’s up in his room right now.” you nod and yell a thank you as you ascend the stairs. creaking open his bedroom door, you call out to him. “yangyang? are you in here?” you hear shuffling from his closet, and a string of curses come out. “yeah, i’m in here.” you chuckle and walk further in his room. “is everything ok? i’ve had radio silence from you for three days.” he walks out with a few hoodies in hand. “oh yeah, shit. i’m sorry about that. i meant to call you after you got back but yingqi decided that would be the perfect time to call me. and then i went on some dates with her and it slipped my mind. dude, i feel bad.” a fake smile makes its way to your face, masking the pain. “it’s ok, you were spending time with your girlfriend. no biggie.” how could he see he was hurting you when he didn’t even pay attention to you?

“what are those hoodies for? are you finally cleaning out your closet?” he fakes offense to your statement. “of course not, i’m giving these to yingqi. i think she’d be cute in my clothes.” you hum unenthusiastically. “you’re weird.” he rolls his eyes and grumbles. “anyway, did you wanna hang out today? i missed you.” he nods and his hair bounces, which was just so cute to you. “yes i actually have something planned to make up for me missing the beach.” you laugh, slightly in annoyance and slightly in happiness. “well what is it?” “a surprise, doofus.”

the day was well spent, yangyang took you to an amusement park and let you do whatever you wanted. you had a good time with your best friend and you felt as if everything was falling back into place. he dropped you off at your house and told you that he’d call you tomorrow. the butterflies that erupted in your stomach made you feel guilty. you can’t feel like this anymore, he had a girlfriend. but oh, you craved him to be yours so bad.

you make my heart shake, bend and break, but i can’t turn away and it’s driving me wild.

summer was ending soon, and you’d be going off to college. you were terrified of losing yangyang, the days of interaction slipping away. you met yingqi twice, and you couldn’t even try to force yourself to hate her. she was an angel to you, and even wanted to be your friend. you gave her insight on yangyang, and she treated you with such respect. that night, you cried yourself to sleep. she was so perfect for him, and it hurt so bad to see her live out your dreams. hold him, kiss him, wear his hoodie and cuddle with him. you were in so deep that you couldn’t breathe. drowning in your own feelings for your friend, with no escape. how will you ever tell him that you’re in love with him when he’s in love with another? your wounds will never close, and new ones appear every time you see him with her. you promise yourself to get over him, but subconsciously you know that it’s no use. you couldn’t get him out of your head, he was your everything without even being with you. 

you were restless that night, and it showed in the morning. your parents asked if you were feeling ok, to which you said yes. no, you aren’t. you barely told them where you were going before racing out the door to yangyang’s house. you had to tell him. even if it meant jeopardizing what you had. his mom answered the door again and you sped past her, yelling a good morning and a sorry. you bust into yangyang’s room, your mind set on explaining everything. “dude, what are you doing here so early?” you don’t answer his question, getting straight into your confession. 

“yangyang i have something to say. i’m in love with you, and i have been since middle school. i’ve memorized every detail about you, from your favorite color to the way you like your eggs.  i have never told you because i was afraid of rejection. the pain it would bring me and the risk of losing you as a friend. but i’ve had enough, i can’t pretend anymore. i’m happy for you, don’t get me wrong. you’re my best friend and i’ll always support you, no matter the hurt it causes me. to be honest, i’m scared that doing this is gonna ruin what our friendship is, but i really need you to know. i’m both happy and hurting that you’re dating yingqi, and no matter how hard i try, i cannot hate her. she is so perfect for you in every way, and i hope for the best because she really likes you. being your best friend is amazing and i wouldn’t trade it for anything this universe has to offer because i care about you. so i hope this doesn’t fuck everything up, but you deserve to know and i really don’t want our dynamic to change.” you take a deep breath and look over to yangyang, who is staring wide-eyed at you, mouth agape. “you don’t have to respond. i get it if you don’t wanna be friends anymore.” he shakes his head. “i just… don’t know what to say. but we’ll never stop being best friends, ok? you mean too much to me, please remember that.”

it’s driving me wild.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 23

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: HELLO EVERYBODY. BIG APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT BUT HERE SHE IS. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I AM STILL WORKING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER AND I CAN’T PROMISE WHEN I WILL POST AGAIN, BUT HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE SOON. HOPE YOU’RE ALL WELL!!! (If you feel so inclined, I do have a ko-fi now, and coffee sure does help me on writing sprees. *wink wink*)

“Mel.” Harry skimmed a hand down the side of her neck to the bandage that covered her small cut, where she’d been sliced by Colton’s knife. For all intents and purposes, she appeared dead to the world, but she usually did when she slept this late into the day. “Melody, wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, vision blurry. And she jumped when she felt Harry’s hand shift on her throat, pushing him away with a gasp.

“‘S me,” he told her gently, crouching down beside the bed until he was at eye level with her, watching her face relax in realization. “‘S only me.”

“You’re okay?” she whispered. She hadn’t been able to speak to him at all the night before. He’d been whisked away for an MRI the moment they’d stepped foot in the hospital, and when she’d been allowed into his room, the pain meds they’d pumped into him had already knocked him unconscious. At some point in the middle of the night, he’d woken her and coaxed her out of her chair, into the hospital bed with him, but they’d both been too tired to speak more than a couple words before falling back to sleep.

“‘M fine,” he answered, nodding.

Melody sighed in relief. She watched Harry rest his chin on the edge of the mattress as she shifted onto her back, then rubbed at her tired eyes. “Did you hear what Brian said?” she whispered. It was almost too quiet to be a hospital. She wasn’t surprised when she glanced at the door and found it closed.

“Not last night,” he said. “Didn’ hear anythin’ anyone said last night. I was completely out of it.” He paused and then nodded slowly. “But he told me this mornin’.”

The air felt heavy. Melody had so many thoughts, but she didn’t know what any of them were. Her mind was a jumble of string, and she couldn’t find an end to yank and untangle.

“Are yeh okay?” Harry asked. He reached for her hand, dragging it across the bed and pressing his lips to her knuckles, gentle with the dark bruises from when she’d hit CJ. “Mel, yeh don’ feel bad, do yeh?” His voice was quiet, gentle. It was so different from everything she’d heard leave his mouth the day before—when he’d argued with CJ, when he’d snapped at her in the car, when he’d spoken so urgently to her and Colton. “He wouldn’ have felt bad if he hurt yeh. He didn’ regret almost killin’ me.”

Melody shook her head, sitting up. “No,” she muttered, pulling the strap of her tank top back up her shoulder. “No, of course not. It’s just...complicated.”

Harry agreed. None of this was simple. “Yeh wanna get dressed, love?” he asked. “Bea and Josie are here. And Sean went downstairs to grab us some breakfast.”

Melody glanced toward the door, nodding. “Is Vanessa here?”

Harry stood, dropping Melody’s hand to reach for the bag that Bea had brought for her. He dug beneath her dress—now rumpled and bloody—for the fresh clothes Bea had packed, tossing a t-shirt and leggings onto the bed. “She wanted to stay until yeh woke up,” he said, “but she worked a double yesterday. She went home to sleep. She said to have you call her when yeh feel like it.”

Melody glanced at her phone on the table beside the bed. Somehow, Bea had found it in her suitcase before leaving the apartment. But Melody hadn’t taken a moment to check her notifications. She knew that she’d have to talk to her mom. Speaking with Vanessa sounded a lot less dreadful, but despite the deep sleep Harry had woken her from, it was as if she had no energy left to explain what had happened. She barely had the energy to process it herself.

Trying not to fall into the vivid memories of the night before, Melody slipped her tank top off and switched it for the t-shirt Harry had laid out for her. When she’d changed her pants and raked her hands through her hair, she found Harry staring out the window, his arms crossed, his eyes unfocused.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, lifting a hand to touch his shoulder when he didn’t respond. “Harry?”

“Hm?” he murmured. He glanced down at her, dazed, and nodded. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Uh, Brian needs me to identify the body.”

Melody’s stomach seized up. If she had eaten anything since early yesterday afternoon, she might’ve been sick.

“Do you...” she began, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Uh, do you need me to come with you?”

“No.” Harry shook his head fiercely. He watched relief spread across her face. “No, you can just go home with Bea, yeah?”

Melody clasped her hands in her lap, her brows knitting together. “Are you sure?”

“Of course ‘m sure,” Harry said. “I can do it alone.”

The minutes of panic from the day before raced through Harry’s mind again—minutes that had seemed to last for hours. Despite his efforts to shake them, the memories had flashed like strobe lights since he’d woken up. Melody’s terrified face, Colton’s grin, the gleam of the knife, the feeling of sheer uselessness, of helplessness. And the apologies afterward, like Melody had expected to take Colton down single-handedly.

“Melody,” Harry said quietly, uncrossing his arms to press his palms into the mattress, “yeh know I didn’ expect yeh to turn around and knock him out, right?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth and turned her head away from him. Like she was embarrassed. He shook his head slowly, confused and exasperated.

“He had a fuckin’ knife to your throat,” he reminded her.

Melody sighed, staring at the wall before her. “But I—”

“But nothin’, okay?” Harry interrupted. He caught her chin, turning her face toward him. “If all yeh ended up with was this little cut,” he continued, running a finger down to the edge of the bandage on her neck, “then I don’ care. Yeh’re okay. Tha’s what matters to me.” Melody blinked silently, shivering as his fingers drifted over her skin. Harry drew in a deep breath. “And ‘m sorry for snappin’ at yeh in the car,” he added in a whisper.

Melody’s lips pursed. She reached up to grip his wrist, dragging his hand away from her neck, where his touch still tickled. “It’s fine.”

“No, ‘s not. It wasn’ fair,” he protested. “Yeh weren’ doin’ anythin’ wrong.”

Melody studied the tense lines of his face. Their conversation before arriving back at the apartment was the last thing she was worried about. It seemed weeks ago, rather than only a few hours. “How’s your head?” she asked.

Harry nodded softly. “Okay. Still aches a little, but ’m fine. How’s your hand?” He reached for the one in her lap when she merely shrugged, bending her fingers, gentle. “That hurt?”

Melody’s wince answered him. She pressed her lips tightly together. “Mhmm.”

Someone knocked at the door. Melody stiffened.

“Can we come in yet?” Bea asked, poking her head into the room. “Is she awake?”

“I’m awake,” Melody assured her, drawing her hand out of Harry’s and relaxing her sore fingers.

“Oh, good.” The door swung open as Bea entered the room, closely followed by Josie. Sean trailed after them, his hands full, hugging cups of coffee to his chest. They all looked just as tired as Melody felt, and the unbridled worry in their eyes had her fighting back a rush of tears.

“Hi,” Sean murmured, stepping in front of Bea and Josie to hand Melody some breakfast—a bagel and a container of fruit. She took the cup of coffee he handed her with a sigh of thanks. But it was quiet as he passed another breakfast off to Harry, like everyone was wondering where to start a conversation.

“Um,” Bea began, scratching at her temple, where a curl was tickling her, “how did the visit go?”

Melody took a sip of lukewarm, watery coffee and shook her head.

“Oh, no.” Bea glanced at Harry, her eyes narrowed in accusation. “What’d he do?”

Josie barked out a laugh and then clapped a hand over her mouth, turning toward the door. But the damage had already been done. Harry cocked his head at both of them, raising an eyebrow in offense.

“It was me, actually,” Melody said. She watched Bea shoot Harry a short, apologetic look and then avoid his gaze. “CJ showed up.”

“Yikes,” Bea hissed. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I thought he wasn’t going. Didn’t he have a tennis match or something?”

Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered him, but hearing Bea talk about CJ so casually rubbed Harry the wrong way. When had she and Melody talked about him? How did Bea know that CJ had a tennis match? And if CJ’s presence or absence was so important, why did Harry feel so out of the loop? But instead of wondering aloud, he only muttered, “Of course he plays fuckin’ tennis.”

Josie gave a dry snort, side-eyeing him. “What’s wrong with tennis?”

“Do yeh play?”

“No.”

“Then, why does it matter?”

Josie rolled her eyes and turned toward Melody. “Well, we’re kind of having the same issue,” she said, tipping her head in Bea’s direction. “My parents won’t even let me in the house.” When Harry looked blankly at her, she added, “Very religious family.”

Harry frowned, raising a brow. “Yeh work in a bar.”

Josie scoffed. “And you’re unemployed,” she snapped back. “See how rude it sounds?”

Melody set her coffee to the side and pressed a hand to her forehead when Harry opened his mouth to speak again. She was relieved that everyone was avoiding the topic of Colton, of the entire reason they were in the hospital to begin with, but this was not the sort of conversation she wanted to hear instead. “Can you both stop, please?” she muttered.

Bea sighed. “Do you wanna go home?” she asked Melody. “You’re ready?”

A swift nod later, Harry was stuffing her dirty clothes back into her bag, zipping it up and handing it over to Bea. Josie reached for Melody’s coffee.

“I’m gonna stick with Harry,” Sean said as Melody climbed off of the bed.

For the first time since she woke, she let her hand drift to her neck, to her bandaged wound. She could feel the slightest sting when she applied pressure. It was a small cut—insignificant, really—but that didn’t stop her mind from wandering. What if Colton had kept a better grip? What if she hadn’t slipped so perfectly from the circle of his arm? And what if Harry hadn’t been so lucky? What if he’d suffered more than that skull-splitting headache?

“Melody,” Harry whispered. She blinked and he was standing in front of her, rubbing his chin, the skin smooth and shaven so neatly for meeting her parents. He lifted his other hand and his fingers circled her wrist, drawing her arm back to her side. She hadn’t realized she’d still been touching the bandage. “Are yeh still here?”

“What?” she murmured back.

He drew in a slow breath and shrugged. “Yeh space out when yeh’re stressed,” he explained. “Sure yeh’re okay?”

Melody glanced down at his hand, still looped around her wrist, his thumb dancing across the thin bones. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”

He nodded briefly, though he didn’t believe her in the slightest. “I’ll go right back to the apartment when ‘m done here, okay?” He waited for a nod or a hum, some form of acknowledgment, but it didn’t come. “Mel.”

She shook her head, as if waking from a daze, and looked up to meet his eyes. “Okay.”

Harry pressed his palm to the side of her face, thumbing over her cheekbone. The skin beneath her eyes was dark and swollen, her lips raw from all of her constant chewing, the bruise at her chin only just beginning to yellow. She looked like she’d been dragged through hell, and maybe she had. Maybe this was her personal hell.

“See yeh soon,” Harry breathed, ducking to press a swift kiss to her forehead. He stepped aside so that Bea and Josie could usher her out of the room, and he watched until they disappeared around the edge of the doorway.

“Are you ready?” Sean asked when they were alone, clapping Harry’s shoulder with a firm hand. “Might as well get it over with, right?”

“Right,” Harry muttered. He dragged a palm down his face, setting his shoulders. Even if he wasn’t ready, time wasn’t going to pause until he could collect himself, so he would fake it. The same way Melody faked that calm stolidity.

“Let’s go.”

***

The following days were uncomfortable. Melody’s apartment, the place she’d made her own, the space she’d spent so much time occupying, no longer seemed to belong to her. There was a dull spot in the floor where Bea had scrubbed at Colton’s dried blood. And no matter how hard she tried to remember that he’d only spent minutes inside, whereas she’d lived there for years, Melody couldn’t stop picturing him in the kitchen, imagining him stepping through the door behind her while she was letting her suitcase topple over, unaware. Somehow, he seemed so much more present when his actual presence was impossible. He was no longer a distant figure standing in the shadows, but he’d already come and gone, and forgetting how it had felt to be pressed against him, his clammy hand tangled in her dress, was not going to happen overnight. He was a ghost, lurking in the corners, breathing down the back of her neck.

Harry was at a loss. When he’d helped ease Melody’s nightmares those months ago, he’d felt purposeful, useful, maybe even needed. But nothing he did now seemed to lessen the strain. He could comfort her when she woke in a fit, but he couldn’t keep Melody’s bad dreams at bay. And it was eating at him. He wished she could share with him, that he could press his forehead to hers and lighten the load she carried, or that he could at least understand the terror that still gripped her while she slept. That same agonizing helplessness that he’d felt when Colton had tried pulling her out of the apartment—Harry felt it spark in his gut each time Melody awoke in tears.

And to add to it, Colton’s face seemed permanently etched into the backs of Harry’s eyelids. Not his sneer or his chafing laughter, not that sharp smirk that he liked to wear—the cold, lifeless face he wore in death. It was the calm face that had appeared when the coroner had unzipped that black body bag in the morgue. Harry had never seen Colton look so peaceful and still. He’d always been moving. Even in sleep he mumbled and twitched. Seeing him so utterly devoid of noise and movement made the finality of it all almost palpable.

Harry’s mind was constantly churning now. The length of time for which he could focus seemed to wane as his thoughts flitted by like frames in a film reel. He was somewhere else entirely when he felt the electric force of Melody’s right-handed swing through the mitt she aimed for.

Her next punch came harder.

His eyes, which had been passively following her form—watching her muscles twist and her limbs stretch in order to gauge where to position his mitts—snapped to her face. Her skin was sheeted in sweat, strands of hair plastered to her temples. The red in her cheeks only highlighted the raw, torn skin of her chewed lips.

“Mel,” Harry tried. She wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t sure if she was even registering that he was behind those mitts or if she’d simply clocked out. Her torso twisted back and forth with the brutal speed of her alternating hits. “Melody,” he tried again, raising his voice to cut through her stupor, “tha’s enough.”

Melody redirected her arm mid-swing. The change in course threw her off-balance and she stumbled sideways, toward the boxing ring beside them. Harry caught her with an arm around her waist before she fell completely. The two of them froze for a moment. Then Melody’s head swung, her eyes darting about the gym until she was satisfied that nobody was watching them.

A strangled whimper passed her lips. Harry’s arm tightened on her sweaty torso, pressing her into his chest. “Shh,” he murmured softly, batting the mitts from his hands with a couple of impatient flicks, “shh.” He stepped backward, lifting her off her feet and swinging her into the hallway that led to the locker rooms. It was quieter here.

Harry set Melody down, propping her against the closest wall. He took a short step back and leaned down until he could see her face clearly, brushing hair away from her cheeks, noting the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Yeh’re fine, love. Wha’s wrong?”

Melody swallowed, then blinked, and in the next second she was tearing at the velcro of her right glove and flinging it to the floor, then closing the space which separated her from Harry, grasping the back of his neck as he began to draw away. She pulled at him until she could reach his lips and kissed him with a firm mouth. His palms tightened on her jaw for a moment, his lips stilled with surprise. There was a moment before he kissed her back, and then it only lasted for a heartbeat. He reached behind him for her wrist, withdrawing her fingers from his hair, his other hand slipping over her side.

“Melody,” he breathed, pushing against her hip to add space between them. “Mel, hey.”

Melody relented, flattening against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she tipped her head back, peeling her eyes open to look up at the ceiling. The tears that had collected began to drip down her face, one by one.

Harry shook his head in confusion. “Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked gently, reaching for her face again. He drew his thumbs through the wet tracks streaking her cheeks. “I thought yeh’d feel better.”

Melody let out a garbled sob, twisting her head until she could see out into the rest of the gym. Everyone else continued on, oblivious.

“Melody,” Harry pressed.

“It’s not fair!” she cried, dipping her chin for a moment and finally freeing her other hand from its glove. When she looked up again, she met his gaze head-on. “It’s not fair that he almost killed you and now he’s just gone. And I still close my eyes and see his face like he’s right in front of me. And what he did to you and what he did to me, we have to live with that for the rest of our lives and he just gets to—” She cut herself off with a hiccuped gasp. Her eyes dropped to the collar of Harry’s shirt. She could see the pulse in his neck before his face lowered into her line of sight.

“Die?” Harry finished, a deep, troubled divot between his brows. “He’s dead,” he said slowly. “Yeh’d rather be dead?”

Melody deflated beneath his stare, shaking her head.  “No,” she whispered.

“No,” he repeated. His fingers traced her cheekbone. “Yeh’re safe, love.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

The words felt like a wicked blow. It was merely weeks ago that she’d said differently. You make me feel safe, Harry. But he schooled his features and nodded curtly.

“Maybe yeh don’ feel like it yet, but yeh are.”

Melody shut her eyes, collecting herself. She felt Harry’s lips at her temple, but then his phone rang, loud and shrill, and both of them jumped. She wiped her lingering tears with the back of her wrist as Harry stepped back, glancing down at the screen. She met his pause with a frown.

“Who is it?”

Harry cleared his throat, flashing her a brief, vague look. “‘S my mum.”

Melody drew in a breath, nodding. “Answer it.” She waited for him to move, but he seemed frozen, still as a wax sculpture. “Harry,” she said, “answer the phone.”

He gave a sharp nod and then spun around, bringing the phone to his ear. Melody watched him move further down the hall, his voice a low murmur, and then she stepped back into the main area of the gym to offer him a modicum of privacy. His mitts lay abandoned on the floor. She pressed her shoulders into the wall and slid down to sit, stretching her legs out before her.

It seemed like only minutes had passed before Harry stepped around the corner. Melody glanced up at him, but he was staring across the room, his expression drawn, impassive. He slid down the wall beside her, settling on the floor, and threw his arms over his crooked-up knees.

“What’s wrong?” Melody asked. She reached for his hand when he didn’t respond, her heart pounding so hard that her chest ached. “Harry?”

“She’s in remission.”

Melody froze, her fingers partly intertwined with his. “What?”

He nodded, confirming that she’d heard him correctly.

“That’s great,” she said. She studied his profile—the hard set of his jaw, the troubling, cool stare. “That’s incredible. Why don’t you look happy?”

Harry let out a dry laugh, his fingers closing around Melody’s, still avoiding her eyes. “She called to tell me good news, and then we had to talk about how her son is dead.”

Melody licked her dry lips. She hadn’t even considered that Harry might not have spoken to his mother since everything had happened. And she certainly hadn’t thought about his mom’s heartache. She’d been consumed by her own fear and the lack of good sleep she’d been getting. And now she felt guilt gnaw at her.

“What did she say?” she whispered.

“Not much.” Harry’s jaw tightened. He reached up to rake a hand through his hair. “I don’ think she really has any words.”

As she watched him, Harry’s stone face cracked. It was small, just a rapid blink and a twitch of his mouth, and anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Melody reached for him. She turned her body, pressing a kiss to his cheek, sliding an arm around his neck and stroking his hair. Harry closed his eyes, effectively blocking out everyone around them.

“Just—‘m not upset that he’s gone. ‘M relieved.” He sighed, shivering at the tickle of Melody’s hair on his neck. “‘M so fuckin’ relieved. And that feels wrong when my mum has to grieve for him.”

A wave of frustrated anger swept through Melody. The same feeling that had her swinging mindlessly at Harry’s mitts. It wasn’t fair.

“It’s not wrong, Harry,” she said firmly. She pulled back enough to look at him, but his eyes remained closed. “He was her son but he wasn’t your brother. You experienced a different person from the one that she knew. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling, okay? But what you don’t need to feel is guilty.”

His eyes opened again. He watched the men in the boxing ring, one backing the other into a corner, a rapid duck as a fist swung, just missing its mark. He could feel Melody’s gaze.

“You never say anything back,” she muttered. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. He turned to look at her. “Yeah, I do.”

Her deep frown softened, her brow relaxing. “Good,” she said.

“‘M not—” Harry’s gaze swept over the room once more. Melody watched his jaw shift. “I don’ wanna be here.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, drawing in a loud breath and climbing to her feet. “Let’s go.”

Harry pulled himself up to stand beside her, and together they collected their equipment, stuffing their gym bags, and trailed through the city back to Melody’s apartment.

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting it Back Together Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1​ @poetic-fiasco​ @shiningloki​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @bookworm-christina​ @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​ @amwolowicz​ @delightfulheartdream​ @frostbitten-written​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @tom-hlover​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @myraiswack​

For six nights Lilly didn't hear so much as a note of music coming through her walls. Were it not for the occasional banging sounds of large something or others being moved about, she might have thought her surly neighbor had relocated to get away from her. More likely, she realized, was that he had put on head phones to keep her prying ears from his precious compositions.

That being the case, Lilly did her best (which in all honesty was lousy) to put him out of her mind and get on with her life. She continued her late night foraging through her grandmother's belongings, pausing at regular intervals to sob when some unexpected jogger of memory was discovered. By the time she had worked her way through the main bedroom, where she happened upon a collection of love letters that Gran and her ill fated fiancé, Lilly's Grandfather though she had never met him, had written during WWII, she was surprised that she had any tears left. No wonder Grandma Lillian had never married, when she had found and lost such a great love while still in her college years. The paper was well worn, and Lilly could just imagine the older woman returning to read them again and again.

Less romantic but no less special was a photo Lilly found where it had fallen behind a bureau. The picture showed Grandma Lillian, glamorously beautiful in a long, sleek sheath dress and beads, singing on stage in front of a three piece jazz combo. Lilly smiled, naming each of the musicians in turn. The original band had long since gone their own ways professionally, but they had remained close friends regardless. The drummer had taken his savings and invested in a small blues and jazz club not far from here. Grandma Lillian had stopped in their on a regular basis to belt out a tune or two, always to great applause. Lilly's nights there, originally under age and smuggled in, were some of her favorites.

Impulsively, Lilly sprang to her feet. There was no reason she had to stay stuck inside all of the time. Gran would want her to get out and savor life; beyond a doubt she had always done so. Rummaging through her belongings she managed to find a simple black skirt and a red top that she had always liked. She brushed out her long hair with defrizzer until she could tolerate the way it looked billowing around her and applied a touch of lipstick and eye makeup to make her look "less like the walking dead" as Gran would have said. All and all she didn't look half bad. Throwing on a wool coat and pair of boots and putting the photo lovingly in one of about seventy gift bags she had found squirreled away earlier, Lilly made her way out into the cool night air.

It was after eleven, late to be heading out but still relatively early for a Friday in the city. A drifting of clouds obscured and showed the moon at intervals, adding occasional light to the dim streets with their burnt out lights. She would be out of the residential blocks soon and into the more bright and crowded nightlife that teemed nearby.

"It's not wise to be out alone at this hour," a low voice spoke in her ear as a hand descended to her shoulder.

Lillian let out a scream and turned around, bottle of pepper spray pulled from her pocket ready to douse her attacker. Before she could press the button the bottle was knocked from her hand to roll down the street as her wrist was locked in the tight grip of a large, leather encased hand.

"Don't," her assailant said calmly.

Looking up, far up, she confronted a pail face beneath a shock of wild, dark black hair, eyes obscured by sunglasses despite the lateness of the hour.

"Sorry if I frightened you," her neighbor said with a slight smirk, taking off the ridiculous glasses.

How had she not recognized that sinful purr of a voice? She heard it often enough in her fantasies.

"I wasn't frightened," she lied automatically, only to add as he continued to stair at her "well, maybe startled."

"Just imagine if I had been someone else. It might not have been so pleasant."

"Yes, because you are the soul of congeniality," she sniped back.

Slowly Lilly's heart beat was returning to normal, or at any rate as normal as it was like to get with him still holding her wrist. She startled easily at the best of times, and in a dark side street when by herself was far from optimal. He seemed to realize this, and was obnoxiously amused by it. Lilly did her best to glare at him, only too aware that she most likely looked like a little yippy dog.

"Fair enough," he agreed, finally letting go of her hand. "My point still stands though. It's not safe out here. All kinds lurking about."

"Monsters waiting to kill me and gobble me up?" she quipped lamely.

"You'd be surprised."

Bending down, he retrieved her pepper spray from where it lay on the street. He examined it as though he wanted to take it apart and put it back together again.

"Not very well constructed," he said at last, surrendering it back to her. "You'd be more likely to spray yourself by accident? Have you?"

"No!" she said indignantly, putting it back in her bag.

He looked at her knowingly and a tell tale blush spread over her cheeks.

"I did spray a date once," she admitted. "In the back of a cab. I was looking for something else in my purse, I pulled it out, and it went off right in his face."

She could not be entirely sure, but she thought she might just detect the hint of a smile twitch his lips. Well, wonders would never cease!

"Dare I ask if there was a date number two?"

"There was not," she sighed, beginning to walk again in the direction she had been going as he fell in beside her. "As it turned out, he deserved the dousing, though I didn't know it at the time."

"Well then," he said, long stride forcing her to trot, "it was all for the best."

"I guess. He was a broker, had a ton of money but was still rude to the waiter and left a horrible tip. I slipped an extra twenty in while he was in the bathroom."

"Fucking zombies. You're right, he did deserve it."

Lilly walked in silence for a few moments, wondering what on earth was happening. He had never seemed to particularly like her, in fact he had all but run away the previous two times she had come into his presence. So what was he doing now, walking next to her and talking as though he might actually not wish to be anywhere else?

"Where were you going?" she asked when she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Out," he said, jus the one word again.

"Oh, I used to go there all the time!" she said, making her eyes go wide and vacant. "They have horrible service, but the atmosphere is to die for!"

"Sorry, I'm not used to...."

"Talking?" she supplied helpfully as his words trailed off.

"Yeah," he agreed, not seeming to take offense.

Lilly watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was so odd. Handsome beyond question, talented, and clearly intelligent. One would think he would be out with a different partner every night if he wanted. So why did he spend all his time alone in a rundown brownstone? Why was he so closed off? She loved and hated puzzles, and he was one just begging to be solved.

"Where were you going?" he turned the tables on her.

"A club down on Avenue A."

"Ah, going to do what passes as dancing these days?" he said with a curl of his lip. "Grind against someone mindlessly to tuneless music?"

"Well, aren't we the old snob," she mocked him. "No, as a matter of fact it's a music club. Jazz and blues mostly. Small acts, lots of musicians stopping in when home from a tour, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, but it has character."

"Really?" his interest seemed to be captured as she described it to him.

"Do you want to come?" she asked, careful to keep her voice neutral while she willed him to say yes.

"I suppose it's better than anything else I have to do," he grimaced.

"Wow, thank you so much," she said, pulling a face.

"I... I told you, I'm not good at this. I don't get out much, or see people."

"It's okay," she told him, fighting an exciting flurry in her stomach. "That's the good thing about music, you can just listen."

"Yeah," he agreed, eyes curiously bright as he looked at her.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Lilly was hyper aware of him next to her, towering over her diminutive height. She did find that she felt more safe with him beside her. Whenever they neared a group of people on the side walk one look at him was enough to move the loiterers scurrying out of their way. She also caught quite a few glances being thrown their way, particularly after he had walked by. He did have a noticeably nice rear view, she allowed. Scampering after him did have an upside she supposed.

They arrived at the club and Lilly smiled at the portly man sitting on the stool by the door. Sidling up behind him, she reached out and pulled his suspenders, allowing them to snap back into place. He spun around, face breaking out into a huge grin when he saw her. The next moment she was swept into a bear hug that left her breathless.

"Lotus blossom!" he grinned at her. "You're looking all grown up! Haven't seen you around here in years!"

"Not all of us are frozen in time, Q," she said with a laugh. "How long have you been wearing those suspenders?"

"Since you were first sweet talking me to let you in," he smiled back. "You and that Gran of yours. Get me in all kinds of trouble!"

"You found enough trouble all on your own."

"True that, but you always added just that extra dash. We were all sorry to here about Miss Lillian. She was a real special lady, and no mistake."

"Thanks," Lilly fought back tears as he swallowed a lump in her throat. "Is Ossie here tonight?"

"You know he'd never miss a Friday," Q rolled his eyes. "Who else would let him play besides his own bar."

"Thanks, Q. Talk to you later."

"This tall fella with you?" he looked her neighbor, once again sporting his sunglasses, up and down protectively.

"Yeah," she said, once again feeling that butterfly sensation.

"Well, alright then. You be nice to her, or big guy or not, I'll take you down."

Adam didn't dignify that with a comment, merely giving the doorman his usual stare.

"Tell the barkeep I'm buying your drinks tonight," Q added as they started in.

"Do you really want to do that?" she asked with a laugh. "You know how I am."

"Damn girl, just try not to bankrupt me," he chuckled.

Lilly laughed and walked into the dark club, sense memory falling over her like a warm blanket. Music, friendly faces, and a handsome man to escort her. What more could she ask for? She just hoped she could keep from saying or doing something stupid for the rest of the night.

***

Adam was convinced that his new neighbor destined to drive him to distraction.

It had never really occurred to him how thin the walls of his home were. If it had realized he would have never bought the damn place. Of course, until she had moved in it didn't really matter. The old woman who had been her Grandmother would never have been so gauche as to interfere in his composing. The granddaughter though...

And what galled Adam most of all was that she had been right. The minute her barked out suggestion came slamming into his creative space he knew that she was dead on. He played the piece, hoping against hope as he came to the end that her contribution would prove just as off as his useless attempts had been. And yet he knew before he struck the chord that it perfectly completed his work. It was humiliating!

After that he made sure to plug in his headphones before turning on his instruments. He didn't want to rude after all, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the streak of embarrassment he had felt at her correction. Adam just didn't want to intrude on her piece.

The way was she was intruding on his. He could hear her all the time. Moving furniture around, cooking in her kitchen, even, to his horror, running her shower. He tried not to think about what she might look like under a stream of hot water, body soapy as her hands slid along its curves. Tried to keep the memory of the taste of her out of his mouth as the vision sprang unbidden into his brain.

It was almost worse when he would hear her crying, which was often. Adam had avoided such open displays of emotion even when he was human. His own tears were only ever shed in private now that Eve was gone. Why then did he feel the urge to break through the walls separating them and wrap the girl once more in his protective embrace?

It must be because he had fed on her, he decided. It was only a few drops, true, but it had still managed to spark something within him. It was such an intimate act, drinking someone's blood. He should have just rinsed it down the drain and been done with it. But it was so sweet, so hot and delicious on his tongue, that would have seemed like a sacrilege.

He was so attuned to her puttering around next door that he was starting to track her movements through the house. It was therefore a start to his system when he heard her front door open and realized that she was going out. At this late hour, with the streets dark and nearly deserted nearby, what was she thinking? Grabbing his coat, glasses, and gloves with a snarl, he was out the door before he could think.

She was not hard to catch. One of his steps could account for three of hers. She made an enticing picture as she ambled down the street, swinging a little gift bag as she walked. Red coat and bright hair caught the light from the moon when it cut through the drifting clouds above. Her skirt displayed a tantalizing stripe of bare leg above a pair of black boots, and he found his mind drifting to how easy it would be to access her femoral artery in such an outfit.

Had she no idea what a tempting target she made? Quickly walking up behind her, he clamped his hand down on her shoulder and growled into her ear, careful to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"It's not wise to be out alone at this hour," he said.

She was predictably flustered by his approached, and he took a kind of pleasure in making her squirm even more. After all, she was responsible for his discomfort over the past week; it was only right she should feel a little back. He was actually rather enjoying bandying words with her, he realized, until she confessed that she was on her way to a club.

Adam could see it clearly in his mind. Her coat over some chair, she would be clad only in the short black skirt and the tight red satin top he could make out underneath. Her hips swaying as her cloud of hair moved around her, she would catch the eye of any man there. Some zombie or other was bound to come up to her, predatory and drunk most likely. His hands would roam her as they danced, on her bare leg, or sliding around her waist, brushing against her breast, her ass, pulling her close to his sweaty body as he ground against her his hardening dick.

"Ah, going to do what passes as dancing these days?" he said with an angry curl of his lip. "Grind against someone mindlessly to tuneless music?"

"Well, aren't we the old snob," she relied, rolling her eyes. "No, as a matter of fact it's a music club. Jazz and blues mostly. Small acts, lots of musicians stopping in when home from a tour, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, but it has character."

"Really?"

That sounded... not terrible.

"Do you want to come?"

Adam opened his mouth to say no. He never went out, not to clubs or bars or any other place filled with mindless hordes of zombies. But as he looked at her, trying not to let him see how hopeful she was, something inside him softened while another part had completely the opposite reaction altogether.

"I suppose it's better than anything else I have to do."

"Wow, thank you so much."

He honestly hadn't meant to poke her with that comment. It was himself he was frustrated with, not her.

"I... I told you, I'm not good at this. I don't get out much, or see people."

"It's okay," she told him. "That's the good thing about music, you can just listen."

"Yeah."

The comment took Adam aback. That was exactly how he felt. So many people wasted time with needless babble. It was so much easier to just listen. Let the atmosphere and the music take you over and move you. Why didn't more people realize that? The thing he hated most about seeing music live were all the people who insisted on talking over it.

He had an odd moment when she hugged the doorman at that club, fighting back the urge to rip the man's throat open and soak the street in his blood. He managed to fight it back once he saw that the relationship was clearly more paternal than romantic. Not that he cared if she had romantic relationships, of course. He just felt protective over her. Because of the blood.

They entered the establishment and Adam looked around with tentative approval. It was dark, not overly crowded, and those that were there sat and listened attentively to the band playing on the stage. She led him over to the bar, where she leaned in to say hello to the woman working behind it. Evidently she knew this whole place well. Not at all where he would have pictured her hanging out.

"Hey, Ivy," she said, just loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to disturb the crowd.

"Lilly! So sorry to hear about Lillian. We all miss her around here. The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks. Oh, and Q says he's paying for it."

"Oh, big spender," the bar tender laughed. "Hi, I'm Ivy. And you are?"

"Adam," he supplied tersely.

"What can I get for you, Adam?" she asked, eyes flickering to his companion and back.

"Nothing, thank you," he answered.

Ivy moved away to make her drink and Adam sighed in relief. It would be much easier to hold himself back from fantasizing about drinking his companion's blood if she were intoxicated. He tried to not let his relief be tinted by disappointment.

"Adam?" she said, looking at him with a half smile. "That fits, I guess. I'm Lilly."

Lilly, he thought. That fit her as well. She was dainty and pretty, although it was sometimes obscured by her clumsiness. Vaguely he noticed the band had just ended a set and applauded automatically, but his attention was focused on fitting Lilly's name with her person.

"Here you go, sweet heart," Ivy interrupted, setting a pint glass filled with light pink liquid down in front of her. "Don't drink it too fast."

The women laughed and Adam raised his brow in question.

"Cranberry and seltzer," Lilly said with a grimace. "I don't drink. Doesn't interact well with my anxiety meds. I know, it makes me a bit of a drag, but -"

"No," he interrupted her. "I prefer it, actually. I don't drink either. Alcohol."

"Oh, well thanks. Or something."

She looked down shyly at her drink, playing with the straw. Adam gave himself a mental shake. She was a human. A zombie. And an annoying one at that. She had cried on him, pried into his wiring project, intruded on his music. Why was he so fascinated with her? Was it just that he longed to taste her again? But if so, then why did he imagine tasting other things than just her blood?

"My Grandmother used to sing here," she told him out of nowhere. "That's her photo over there, behind the bar. Lillian Bell. The owner was her drummer for a while back in the 60's. She would bring me here to listen to what she considered real music. She was a bit of a snob. You would have liked her."

"I'm sure I would have."

Adam scoured his memory, trying to think if he had ever heard of the woman. He thought he might have, actually. He had a vague recollection of a small woman with a big voice that looked not dissimilar to the photo she indicated.

"That's how I know music," she continued, chewing on the straw and drawing undo attention to her mouth. "I don't sing myself, or play much of anything well, but I have an excellent ear."

"Much to my gratitude," he said, realizing at that moment he did feel grateful to her for her assistance.

"Sorry about that," she turned the shade of her shirt. "It sometimes is physically painful for me to hear the wrong note. Or, I mean... not wrong wrong... I meant... oh gosh..."

Adam let her squirm for a few more minutes before putting her out of her misery. She was rather delightful twisting on her stool, looking for a way out of the trap her mouth had gotten her into. He had the feeling it was not an uncommon occurrence for her.

"It was wrong," he said at last, taking pity. "I was stubbornly trying to force a finish that didn't belong. I can be arrogant that way at times."

"No, not you!" she protested mockingly. "I never would have imagined!"

Against his usual nature and inclination, Adam felt a smile begin to raise the corners of his mouth. She was incorrigible, this woman. He could tell that she was intimidated by him, hell, he had cultivated that in her, and yet she still said whatever popped into her head, fear be damned. She was brave, and that was a rare quality it seemed to him.

"Well, if it isn't my little Lilly!"

Adam looked up to see the drummer from the last group sauntering over. Lilly jumped off of her stool and hugged him warmly, but this time Adam had no fear it was anything other than familial affection. He was ancient, if not compared to Adam than to other humans, easily in his late 80s at least. Still, he had held a steady beat. The musician in Adam had to respect that.

"Ossie, it's so good to see you!" Lilly gushed. "I'm sorry I haven't been by in so long."

"We all know why, Lil," the old man sighed. "Lillian didn't want you to see she was failing, so she made up lies to keep you away. I yelled at her for that, don't think I didn't!"

"I can only imagine," she said with a watery smile.

"And who is your young man, missy?"

Adam inwardly rolled his eyes at the moniker, not so much because it assumed they were together but that he was young.

"My friend," Lilly corrected him hastily. "Adam. He's a musician too."

"Good set," he nodded to the drummer.

"Well, I'm not sure how I feel about that," Ossie looked at him appraisingly. "You can do a lot better than one of us."

"Friend, Ossie," she stressed again. "And while you might be my almost Grandad, you are not my father!"

Adam wondered why it bothered him that she was so quick to disavow any serious connection to him. It must be his pride, he decided. She had seemed taken by him that first night on the roof, and certainly the evening he had knocked her over and she had proceeded to stare at his bare chest. He had rather liked the way her eyes lingered on his muscles, to be honest. But perhaps his churlishness had put her off. If so, good for both of them

"You watch what you are saying, Lilly," Ossie scolded her. "You know your Gran had eyes for no one but your Grandpop. When you find a love like that, you can get buried in the grief of it when it's gone, it and forget to let yourself move on. Don't make that same mistake."

"I have to fall in love once first, before I can move on to a second," she said.

Adam leaned back against the bar. Is that what he had been doing? Getting buried in his grief? Eve had made him promise to live, but was he really holding up his vow to her? It made him nervous to even think about.

"I have something for you," Lilly handed the bag to Ossie. "Open it after I'm gone, I can't deal with crying again tonight."

"You are such a sweet pea," he said. "And that reminds me, I have something for you, too! I was cleaning out my office, and I found some master tapes of one of our old recording sessions. And there's Miss Lillian, singing to make your heart break! You got an analogue player at the house? One of the old type, mind you?"

"I don't know," Lilly bit her lip. "I haven't seen one, I don't think."

"I have one," Adam offered, before he even thought about what he was saying. "We can listen to it at my place."

"Well, you might just be worth something after all," Ossie beamed at him.

Adam looked back and forth between Lilly and Ossie, both smiling at him as though he had hung the moon. Inside where his heart once beat, he felt an ever so slight easing that was almost a pain.

What, he wondered, had he gotten himself into?

[kabira]

05 | job hunting

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.9k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — none

note — so...you might have noticed some changes to the pairing. i’ve decided to go ahead and convert this to an x ofc fic because when it’s a 3rd person pov thing the ‘you’ pronoun kind of jumps out at you and it just sounds really unnatural lol. she’s been left race-ambiguous in the description, and she’s pretty cool, so i hope you like her !! even though she doesn’t show up very often djskalskjs

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Vernon stepped out into the open, finding himself on the highest level of the Helicarrier—not the top floor, but the deck itself.

The wind was strong, pushed by the rotator blades keeping the carrier in the air, and he shivered on feeling the sudden chill descend upon him. He hesitated, resting his palm against the side of one of the structures containing the blades, and glanced around. The aircraft was massive, big enough that despite being right next to the Quinjet runway, he couldn’t see any of the city beneath.

When he finally spotted White Tiger, she was sitting near the edge, mask in hand. At first, he was apprehensive about her being spotted, but when he got close enough, he realized they were way to high for anyone on the ground to be able to make out her features.

New York was easily a couple thousand feet below them, the tallest buildings looking like toy figurines from the high vantage point. The harbor glittered a dark blue-green underneath them, catching the dying light of the sunshine like little stars contained in the water. It was a breathtaking sight, so beautiful that it washed away Vernon’s initial fear as easily as a wave clearing away dug letters on a sandy beach.

He glanced at Yeji, pressing his teeth against his lower lip. She had her back to him, shoulders tensed—of course she would have heard him approach. Her hair was still up in a ponytail, but swayed lightly with the breeze. Even as he stood behind her, she said nothing, remaining silent and stony as she stared down at the view below.

“It’s nice up here,” he murmured. “Unless you have a crippling fear of heights, that is.”

Silence.

Vernon sighed to himself, slowly taking a seat next to her on the sun-heated deck, and pulled off his mask. The air was cool against his sweat-soaked skin, but did nothing to set his heart at ease. That was the hard part, one he had to figure out himself.

“So, White Tiger, huh?” he asked, scrunching up his nose as he looked at her sideways. Her chin rested on her folded forearms, which were balanced against her knees, legs crossed at the ankles. It should have been a relaxed posture, but her muscles were too tense, standing out like steel cables on her arms and sides. “Do your powers have anything to do with that jade amulet you wear?”

She unfolded herself, unconsciously touching the amulet that hung from one side of her gray belt. It was a vibrant green color, looking fragile like glass, but despite her generally offensive style of fighting, there wasn’t a single scratch on it. “It was my father’s,” she answered dully. “And my grandfather’s before him. The amulet is a family heirloom that passed down to me when the rest of my family died, and with it, the powers it bestows upon the bearer.”

“Oh,” he said, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected her to speak, but she had opened up, despite the still guarded tone of her voice. He pulled his knees up to his chest and looked out at the view, feeling calmer than before, but also a lot more awkward. “Are you afraid of the water?”

She glanced over at him, a confused scowl on her face. “What?”

“The water,” he repeated, indicating the harbor with a tilt of his head. “Aren’t cats supposed to be scared of water or something?”

Her eyes narrowed, but not before he caught the glimmer of amusement in them. “I’m not a cat,” she said. “The amulet gives me the agility and tenacity of a white tiger, but not all its fears. Are you afraid of house lizards, spider boy?”

“Well, one in particular.” He half-smiled. “But he’s back to human now, so I guess not really.”

She gave him a small smile back, one that indicated she got the joke. It wasn’t a big gesture, but it made him feel a bit better—which was funny, since he was the one supposed to be comforting her. He recalled Luce’s words from their earlier conversation. There’s no harm in being decent.

“Look,” he started, reaching up to rub the side of his neck, “I’m sorry about what I said back there. You said you knew I didn’t like you guys, but that’s not true. It’s just—it’s a sudden change,” he mumbled. “To have a whole team of supers in the school, and so soon after the—incident, it just set me off.”

She said nothing, waiting for him to continue. He shook his head. “You probably don’t know what happened a few weeks ago, and what happened, it’s not your fault. Heck, it doesn’t even have anything to do with you.” He laughed weakly. “The incident that took place, it followed a regular pattern I already should have known. When superhero stuff and real life mix, nothing good comes out of it. I wasn’t prepared for you guys, and I took it badly. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Yeji hummed. For a few moments, they sat in silence, but it was a comfortable sort of silence. For Vernon, it felt good to get all of that off his chest. It was hard to admit to something because of his pride, but putting it out there made him feel a bit better. No one liked seeing their faults, but to him, it was better than hurting someone he didn’t really want to hurt. In a way, even the superheroes around him were innocent people who could become collateral damage.

“What incident?” she asked.

He glanced at her, a little confused. She stared back at him with her eyebrows arched, as if expecting him to say something. “Sorry, what?”

“I told you about my family, how I came to be in possession of my powers,” she said. “Your turn. What incident were you talking about?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, staring at her thoughtfully. “Do you know Harry Osborn?” he asked at length.

She nodded. “The Goblin—I mean, Norman Osborn’s son.” She gave him a curious look. “Wasn’t he at Midtown with you?”

“Yeah.” He looked away again, studying the lenses of his mask. Speaking about it was difficult, and he wasn’t too sure about instantly opening up about such a horrific incident to someone he had met two days ago, but his instinct told him he could trust White Tiger. Either way, there was no harm in talking about that day, at least not the general aspects of it. “And you probably also know about how Norman Osborn was taken down.”

She nodded again, slower this time, looking thoughtful. “Wasn’t there a bargaining chip of some kind involved?” she asked. “Wait, sorry. I meant a human hostage.”

“Yeah,” Vernon murmured. He hung his head, running his spandex-covered fingers over the cloth of his mask, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in his throat, but it hurt to do that, like there was a thorn stuck in his flesh. “Long story short, Harry Osborn…well.”

Yeji glanced at him in surprised concern, and he looked away, avoiding her gaze. Now would come the pitying glance, the awkward condolences, the unsure silence. He had had enough of that in the past few weeks.

“I get it,” she said, to his immense surprise. When he looked back at her, her eyes were sad, but there was a firmness beneath them, like stable ground at the bottom of the river. Even if she didn’t quite know all the details, they both spoke the language of loss, and it didn’t need words to be understood.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said.

“I won’t.” She turned her face away, towards the sky, and he followed suit. The silence this time was more than comfortable, it was comforting. “No more details?”

Despite himself, he smiled. “Not yet,” he replied. “You have to get past level twenty first.”

She snorted a laugh. “I don’t really play video games,” she answered. “It’s a little difficult to fit in when you live in the same quarters as a couple of teenage boys, but I can’t do anything about it.”

“Really? You can drop by after school sometimes and I’ll show you.” He grinned, then grimaced. “Or maybe Aunt May can. I’m not the best at them, she kicks my butt on Night game night every time.”

“She sounds amazing already. I can’t wait to meet her,” Yeji said, smiling. “And while we’re on the subject of family—argh, I’m totally going to sound like Agent Fox, but here’s the thing.” She shifted her weight, sitting with her legs crisscrossed. “I know it’s hard to deal with loss, and that it’s different for everybody, but protectors feel guilt on a different level than everybody else—and you can’t carry that kind of weight around with you.”

Vernon picked at a small cut on the leg of his costume. “Agent Fox,” he repeated. “You too, huh?”

Yeji winced. “Therapists aren’t really equipped to deal with our kind of experiences,” she said. “I mean, what do you say to someone who had to physically fight their best friend’s dad because he turned into a genetically enhanced green monster?”

He laughed.

“Agent Fox might not be your best bet, but there are other things you can try,” she continued. “I know you probably don’t want some kind of preachy advice, but for me, being White Tiger helped.” She ran her fingers along the grooves of her amulet again, as if deriving comfort through its touch. “Doing something, even little things that just keep your mind off the past, it helps.”

He thought back to Luce’s words. “Like getting a job?”

Yeji frowned. “I guess,” she said. “If it doesn’t take over your time as Spider-Man, that is.”

“That’s twice in a day someone’s advised me to get a job,” he said. “Maybe I really should go ahead and get one.”

“Maybe you should,” she agreed. “But I have a feeling most normal jobs won’t interest you. If you’re going to work, might as well work on something you’ll enjoy.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, the gears of his brain already having been kicked into action. “I think I already have something in mind.”

The last time Vernon had met Dr. Curt Connors, it had been as Spider-Man.

It was not an experience he had particularly enjoyed, since it had been one of his bigger fights had had left him with a hairline fracture and a few bruised ribs, holed up in his room for a week to nurse himself. Gym had been worse than usual that Tuesday.

As he pushed through the revolving doors at the entrance of Roxxon Industries, he was already beginning to regret his decision a little bit. Sure, there was no way that Dr. Connors could know his secret alter ego, but the knowledge didn’t help his nervousness one bit.

Plus, with Oscorp pretty much in ruins, the research scientist had shifted his work to a different corporation, and Vernon didn’t know his way around the new building at all. It was a tiny thing to be so worried about, especially for a person who had faced Doc Ock at the age of sixteen, but even the little things seemed big now that he was out job hunting.

Vernon clutched his father’s briefcase tighter, taking his visitor’s pass from the front desk and heading up the escalator to the designated room. Dr. Connors had met Vernon Parker exactly once before, when the latter had shown up at his old laboratory asking about his father, Richard Parker, Connors’s former colleague.

Back then, their conversation had been cut short by a Spidey emergency, and after that the only time he’d been able to see the doctor was while battling him as the Lizard. Vernon had been too afraid to go back afterwards, scared of the decades old formula Connors had developed which turned him into the monster, and what he might discover about his father’s work.

But Dr. Connors had made him a proposal that the boy remembered three months later—that Vernon was always welcome to come work at his lab. Now, the idea of being a simple research assistant didn’t sound very great, especially when the project was so controversial that its funding had been hanging by a thread even at Oscorp, where they weren’t exactly known for their safe experiments. However, biophysics had always been fascinating to him, not to mention the fact that it was his father’s legacy.

He guessed it was about time he went back to claim it.

Vernon stood in front of the door awkwardly, unsure what he was going to say. But he lifted his hand, and he knocked.

“Come in,” came the doctor’s voice from behind the door, and Vernon took a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The room was bigger than he had expected it to be. It definitely wasn’t just an office, with multiple tables and various small instruments and charts held down by random objects acting as paper weights spread across them. Tall shelves lined the wall behind the main desk and the one opposite it, stuffed with old and new volumes. The doctor’s table itself was pushed into a corner to make way for everything else, but despite the packed space, everything was organized. It was a pattern Vernon knew from his own room: order in chaos.

Dr. Connors was standing behind his desk, reading through a paper on a clipboard in his hand. He looked up as Vernon entered, and a range of emotions flashed through his eyes when he saw him—first confusion, then recognition, then fear, then guilt. Finally, the doctor smiled, straightening as he placed the board back on his table.

“Vernon,” he said, and Vernon felt a thrill upon seeing that he remembered his name. “A face I haven’t seen in a long time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Vernon tried to press his lips into a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. “I would have come by earlier, but what with midterms and everything happening in the city…” He hesitated. “I was just a little afraid, I guess.”

“I understand,” Dr. Connors said, and it wasn’t just an empty phrase, like he actually understood Vernon’s fear of facing his father’s past. But then, maybe he did. “I would have liked to see you again after our conversation was cut short, but perhaps a few months’ lapse in between was necessary.”

Vernon thought back to the Lizard incident a couple of months ago, when Dr. Connors had injected himself with an underdeveloped serum, turning himself into a giant lizard. “I read your recent article on the lizard formula,” he said slowly.

The doctor’s hand froze on the table for a moment, but relaxed just as quickly. He looked up at Vernon with a gentle sort of intelligence in his eyes, a look so different from the Lizard’s that he had trouble believing they could be the same person. “Did you, now?” he asked. “And what did you think of it?”

“Genius,” he breathed, and Dr. Connors’s eyes lit up even more. “I looked through my dad’s old papers, and cross-checked the changes with your research.” He opened his mouth and closed it again. Better get this over with quickly. “I know this must seem abrupt, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go on.” Dr. Connors inclined his head, gesturing at a seat with his good arm. The other one ended up to just above the elbow—a sight that reminded Vernon that it was the doctor himself who had been the first human trial for his cross-species grafting formula.

“The last time we met, you asked me to come work with you in your lab,” Vernon spoke slowly, hesitating between words. “And when I read your paper, I saw that you would continue to research further on the gene splicing and the, uh, the blood-brain barrier and—” He cut himself off, realizing that he had begun to ramble. “I was wondering, after last time, if you could—”

“Take you on in my lab for the research?” Dr. Connors completed his question for him, positively beaming. “Of course! Your father was a genius, and you follow in his stead. It would be a great advantage to have you on the team.” His smile faltered a little. “And then, even after all these years, I owe him my life and its work,” he added in a lower voice. “I’d be glad to have you.”

“Really?” Vernon looked at him with rounded eyes, clutching the case tightly enough that the skin of his knuckles paled. “I—wow. Thanks, Dr. Connors.”

Dr. Connors shook his head. “There will always be a place for Richard Parker’s son at my lab,” he said. “If you’re free, I could show you around the lab now, just so you get the feel of the place. Unless, of course, you’re busy right now, in which case you could swing by later.”

Vernon laughed, relieved and gratified and ridiculously happy. “I have all the time in the world.”

“Great,” Dr. Connors said. “When can you start?”

[straymackerel]

idk if your requests are open but if they’re not then feel free to ignore this. 😅 id like to request an imagine with dazai having a long, deep conversation with his new co-worker who happens to be a former member of the port mafia but she left for obvious reasons and only fukuzawa knows for now but ofc dazai being dazai, he’s sharp af so he decided to talk to her bc one, he understands her and second he developed feelings for her shortly after she joined ada. thanks in advance! 🥰

➽─{done! they were actually closed, but this was such a fun request i made it 2k long (✿´ ꒳ ` )}─❥

You often wonder if it was something you said.

Ever since you joined the Armed Detective Agency, all of your new coworkers have been nothing short of friendly and accommodating. All of them––except for the bandaged mystery who can’t quite take his eyes off of you.

At first you thought it was just your imagination. When he answered your questions dismissively, you thought maybe he didn’t have a way with words. When he bailed on group trips to Café Uzumaki––but only when you were going too––you brushed it off as a coincidence. And when you first ‘caught’ him fixated on you, looking you square in the face from his own desk, you hoped he was actually looking at something above your head or next to you.

After all, in the Port Mafia, you always felt as if you were being watched, precisely because you were being watched. Your every move was silently documented, your behavior acutely observed within a larger culture of distrust and suspicion. You wondered if maybe you carried that instinctive unease with you to your new day job. (The only proper day job you’ve ever held.)

But there was no need for deft maneuvers to realize that this intimidating brunette was, indeed, staring you down in silence. He has no intention of hiding it; he’s openly tracking your movements, peering into your essence. And the most unnerving part of all: he’s smirking half of the time. If you didn’t know any better, you would confront him the first chance you got; but your situation is precarious, delicate. You have no business drawing attention to yourself, a former member of the Port Mafia. Sure, the President is already aware of your circumstances, but the Mafia has engrained the virtues of secrecy into you. You hope to keep your past on the down low.

Besides, there’s something off about this brown-haired detective. Something you realized at the beginning of your employment, way before he started staring into your soul. Something you hope you’re wrong about.

So you wait it out, anxiously. Drained by the presence of your colleagues, you find yourself in Café Uzumaki alone one slow-moving afternoon. The paperwork was piling up, the tension in the air almost tangible as Dazai declined yet another offer to do actual field-work with the others in favor of keeping tabs on you (unbeknownst to anyone else). You’d left the office at your earliest convenience, hoping to relax in the corner with your favorite beverage.

It is all you can do to keep from spewing the profane as he invites himself to your table, waltzing in without a care in the world. 

You’re trapped.

Ordering himself a double shot espresso, your coworker ignores your apparent apprehension as he gets comfy in his booth seat. Downing his drink while you’ve barely touched yours, he glances behind him to check out the waitstaff. No words are exchanged until the baristas are out of earshot.

“Well, you certainly seem to have a vested interest in me,” you say in the most nonchalant manner manageable––nervous because of his constant surveillance, but also because he’s quite handsome for a borderline stalker.

“You can drop the tight-lipped smile,” Dazai replies, eyes darkened.

You lower your voice, hackles raised. “How much do you know?”

“I suppose it’s all speculation, but my hunches are rarely wrong. You chose to work at a detective agency after all.” Though he’s avoided your question, the look on his face tells you everything you need to know. Eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth upturned, he most definitely has your former occupation pegged.

“What gave it away?” is the only thing you can think to say.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Perhaps it will aid me in playing detective,” you quip. He chuckles dryly.

“Oh, where to start. That concealed weapon you carry––it’s not issued by the Agency. Though its outline is comparable to our standard Beretta 92FS Inox sidearm, there are some subtle differences, even when it’s tucked away and wrapped in cloth.” You raise your eyebrows, surprised that anyone would notice.

“The way you move soundlessly and seamlessly,” he continues, not bothering to pause. “It’s obviously second nature. You hardly make a sound if you can help it. And then there’s your understanding of the underworld, even though you try to hide it. You obviously know much more than you let on; your knowledge is too convenient. You claim to know just the perfect tidbit or two for a case, having overheard a street vendor or a barkeep, but the expression on your face is all too telling of a certain sense of pride. Such a seemingly mild-mannered sweetheart as yourself. Did you know that when you flinch at violence, you always react a hair slower than everyone else, as if you’re simply following suit? Also––”

“Okay, OK, I get it,” you say, defeated. “So that’s the reason why you’re leering at me every day? To add to this never-ending list of yours?”

“Well...” Dazai’s voice trails off. His features relax for the briefest moment, more alarming than reassuring to you. And then that nagging thought resurfaces. That is, the very first thing that came to mind when you were first introduced to him. Again: something you hope you’re wrong about.

“You’re quite suspicious yourself,” you interject. “Let alone your little stalker habit... you have the same name as him.” The corners of his eyes crease. 

“That’s an odd way of putting it,” he says with a hint of mirth in his voice, and not a smidgen of denial. Fuck.

Logic dictates that you should be scared shitless right now, sitting across from one of the most dangerous men in Mafia history. Logic dictates that you should’ve used more covert methods of uncovering his past. Straightening up, you tell yourself not to think about it.

“Well, I was under the impression that Dazai Osamu was only a legend and nothing more. I mean, a teenage orphan prodigy who threw their life as a Mafia exec away, only to disappear forever? Sounds like bullshit,” you state with as much cool-headedness as you can muster.

“I take that personally!” he gasps, twisting his arms every which way in mock offense, as if to shield himself from your harsh commentary. 

“You didn’t consider changing your name?”

“Not even once.” He winks, to which your heart may or may not skip a beat. Are you scared, or oddly enamored?

You push your cup along your side of the table. “How come you turned tail too? You had the status to do literally anything you wanted.” He brushes it off.

“What is this, my interview? The last time I checked, you were the one on trial,” he says, waving his hand like he’s batting your assertion out of the air.

“I’m on trial?” you ask, the cup coming to a stop. “Do the others have suspicions as well?”

“Oh no, nothing in particular to go on. Though Ranpo most definitely has you figured out,” he says, to which you startle. “...but he couldn’t care less, so don’t worry.” You unintentionally sigh relief as he continues: “My colleagues have this peculiar way of testing their new recruits. We call it an ‘entrance exam.’ And before you ask, I’m not responsible for administering yours, but I might be able to push you in the right direction.”

“Any hints?” 

He shakes his head, “Not really. No general tips or tricks. I need some more information,” he says, leaning in a bit. “So tell me about yourself. Why leave the Mafia for the ADA?”

You press your lips together, realizing he’s asking you the very same question he himself dodged moments ago. “I needed a change of atmosphere. And scenery. I wasn’t quite taken up with the constant death threats and daily bloodshed.”

“Oh, death threats? And bloodshed? I don’t suppose you were on the receiving end?” Dazai asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You laugh a restrained laugh, nodding. “I wasn’t. But those kinds of tactics... they aren’t in my nature. Everything about that job was suffocating, and I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Dazai looks at you thoughtfully.

“It’s interesting, though. You carry your past line of work in all of your mannerisms. Any chance you were born into it?”

You nod again, “Not my choice.”

“What a coincidence.” He flashes a toothy smile, silence thickening the air. You scramble to break it, eager to talk about something else.

“...So? Any advice for my test?”

“I’d be a little more forthcoming if only you’d tell me the full truth,” Dazai responds, and your face falls.

“What do you mean?” Your strained voice comes out meeker than you’d like, and it’s Dazai’s turn to sigh. He leans back into his booth seat, as if a little distance might solve your unease.

“I lost someone. The best friend I’ve ever had. He told me I wouldn’t find what I was looking for in the Mafia, so here I am. And I’m pretty sure you have someone like that too.” How does he know? Why is he telling you this? Your hands––they’re clammy. You turn your gaze to your lap, realizing that he’d dismantle anything but the truth. There are no options but one.

“It was... a family member.” More silence. Is your nose getting red? You hope your nose isn’t getting red.

“The Mafia threatened them?” he prods.

“They were collateral,” you say slowly. You hadn’t expected to talk about them today. You hadn’t expected any of this from a coworker who kept you at several arms’ lengths for days. Another coworker might respond “that’s horrible,” or “I’m sorry for your loss,” but not Dazai.

“Dazai, do you ever wonder if it’s our fault they got hurt?”

“No,” he replies immediately. Then he hesitates. “I mean, yes, and for a very long time, but not anymore. Evil will do evil; if not to our loved ones, then to someone else.” 

He’s right. Of course he’s right.

“But does it make it any easier?” You peer at him, hopeful, and he dismisses your expectations with a quick shake of the head. “Right.” Pause. 

“But you’ve come to the right place. Unlike the Mafia, this is an environment where you can heal. Sometimes the wounds reopen,” he says, “but I promise you that your feelings will go towards something productive.” You swallow, blinking back would-be teardrops. The salty marinade seeps back into you.

Then, under your breath: “Okay.” “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I could talk about this all day.” The tightness in your throat dissipates, the water in your eyes no longer threatening to spill.

“So, the entrance exam? I’ve told you everything now,” you pry. He thrums his fingers, amused.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I figured pretty early on that you would be okay. You’re gonna pass just fine without my help––I only wanted to get to know my new coworker better.” His fingers stop as he gauges your response.

“Wha–?” This guy! He played you, straight to the verge of tears..! Shoulder tense, you jump to your feet.

“Sorry to deceive you. I’ll see you upstairs, then.” Jeez, the bandaged bastard’s already heading out!

“Wait!” Cheeks flushed, you’re unsure why you’re calling out to him, but it makes him stops in his tracks.

“...Yes?” 

“...You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

“I’ll think about it.” Dazai’s coy voice is all but reassuring.

“No, seriously,” you plead, eyes wide. “I really need this. God forbid someone else prompts a retelling of my life story.” He turns to face you.

“Then let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” 

He steps towards you, leaning in to whisper in your ear: “Meet me in front of this building tomorrow at 10 PM. There’s a restaurant I want to take you.” You feel your mouth open, then close by itself. 

This is it. This is why he can’t look away from you. If he was only observing you, he could, would do it without being so obvious. You’re sure of it now. You replay each once-menacing occurrence of eye contact from the past few days in your head, and you notice something new. Hunger? Want? Even greed? You can see it in his eyes right now. Those eyes, they threaten to dance around, maybe even travel a bit... lower. 

(You jest yourself. ‘Once-menacing?’ He’s still menace, still a danger.) He turns away, heading for the door again, not waiting for a response:

“Don’t be late.”

A chill runs up your spine. It’s a mix of fear, and bitterness, and panic, but most of all... 

A growing anticipation.

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch3: Man, You Really Are As Dumb As You Look. Part 1 Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Evan asks Stella on a date, Jake’s not impressed and the entire thing takes him on a little trip down memory lane…

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT via flashback in Part 2 (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  So the smut in this chapter is way back when the pair of them were kids. Both 18 before anyone says anything, and is designed to be a truthful reflection of a fist time! We hope you enjoy it because it certainly made us giggle a lot.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

It was a sunny fall morning, and for a Monday Jensen actually felt pretty good. He walked down the corridor, his heavy boots slapping lightly on the lino floor, whistling to himself. He stepped aside to let a pretty red head out of one of the rooms, turning to watch her walk away, grinning to himself as his eyes dropped to her combat trouser clad ass before he shook his head and continued his route to the office.

He walked in with a loud “S’up losers” and looked around “Where’s Stel?” he asked, nodding to her vacant desk.

“She got a call about 10 minutes ago and said she was heading for a coffee.” Pooch said, as Cougar gave a chuckle. “And no prizes for who was on the phone given the way she was grinning and telling us not to be nosey bastards as she left.” “Who?” Jake plopped down onto his chair, turning in it so he could see Cougar and Pooch, his legs extending in front of him.

“Man you really are as dumb as you look.” Pooch shook his head as Cougar continued to grin.

As he suddenly realised what Pooch was alluding to, Jensen’s eyes flew open wide “Don’t tell me it’s that guy from the bar the other night?”

“Yup” Cougar nodded “Clearly they traded numbers...”

Jake suddenly felt hot and there was an annoying buzzing in his ears. Swallowing he took a deep breath and shook his head “Nah, that’s not Stel.”

“What do you mean it’s not Stel?” Pooch frowned.

“She only met him like last Friday.” Jensen shrugged

“She’s not 10 anymore Jensen.” Pooch looked at Cougar “What, you expect her to wait for 7 years for this one as well?”

Jensen narrowed his eyes “That’s…that was different, we were kids.”

“Well she’s not a kid anymore.” Cougar smirked, picking up his phone “And she’s hot and free.”

“Yeah, what exactly did you think would happen?” Pooch asked.

“I-“ Jensen looked at him, then to Cougar, both of them watching him as he floundered for a response “-guess I don’t...”

“Nothing.” Cougar cut him off, looking at Pooch “The answer is nothing, because he acts like a dumbass and never thinks about what he’s doing.” “I was doing your momma last night.” Jake shot at him and Pooch snorted whilst Cougar shook his head with a groan which morphed into a grudging chuckle. Momma jokes were a well-worn jest between the group and it was an unwritten rule that when someone dropped one, no offense was meant or taken.

“Oh really?” Pooch turned to look at Jake, arching an eyebrow “Since when has Coug’s momma been called Stella, coz that’s all I heard you groaning from my apartment, and I live a floor down…” Cougar let out a howl of laughter as Jake glared at Pooch “You still get yourself off thinking about her. You’re screwed up, man!”

“No, that’s…I wasn’t jacking off last night!” Jake shook his head, “Pooch is talking shit.”

“Yeah but, made you blush!” Pooch winked and Jake took a deep breath, his cheeks flushed with heat. “Oh my God you actually do!” Cougar snorted.

“Fuck you both.” Jake groaned as he stood up and stormed from the office, bumping into Roque on his way.

“Hey Jensen where’s the fire?” Roque watched him go, before he turned and walked into the room “Where’s that ray of sunshine going?”

Pooch scoffed “He’s craving coffee all of a sudden.”

Roque frowned as Cougar let out another deep chuckle.

***** “So, not suit today?” Stella asked, taking in Evan’s casual appearance. He was dressed in a white Henley and black jeans which was a stark contrast to the crisp suit she’d first seen him wearing in this very place a week ago.

“No, I only wear that when I have some hot-shot boss to impress.” He smiled as he placed Stella’s coffee down on the table, gracefully sitting down in the seat opposite her.

“Suppose that’s the beauty of being in uniform.” Stella grinned, thanking him for the coffee. “Don’t have to worry about office wear!”

“Yeah, probably one thing I miss about being in active service.” Evan agreed. “Actually, come to think about it, it’s the only thing I miss about being in active service.”

Stella chuckled and picked up the large mug in her hands, inhaling deeply. “Man, I love Pumpkin Spiced Lattes” she grinned.

“I can tell.” Evan smiled “You’re practically purring over it.”

Stella shrugged “I wait all year for these things and besides, the last one I had ended up all over some guy’s shirt.”

“Poor guy.” Evan quipped, his eyes on hers as he took a sip of his own drink.

“Yeah, I basically scalded him.” Stella shrugged, “And he didn’t deserve it either, turns out he was a pretty nice guy.” “A nice guy that spent all day smelling of cinnamon and whatever else they put in a pumpkin spiced latte.” “Win-win as far as I’m concerned” Stella grinned, setting her cup down. “I like that smell.” “Maybe you should contact Starbucks’ head office.” Evan set his own cup down gently, his large hand still curled round it “Suggest they release a cologne.”

“Uh-uh, bad idea.” Stella swallowed another sip of her coffee. “I wouldn’t be able to resist. I’d be following every guy wearing it round like some kind of animal tracking pheromones.” Evan let out a loud laugh and Stella grinned watching him for a second before his laughter died into quieter chuckles and she cocked her head to the side a little “You know, I was surprised you called me.”

“Why’s that?” he frowned slightly

She shrugged “I dunno, I just thought you were fooling around at the bar and that you’d end up in some other girls’ bed that night.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she inwardly groaned “Shit. I didn’t mean that how it sounded…”

“Well, if you must know I didn’t.” Evan said, his voice harbouring a trace of humour “I ended up cradling my friend’s head whilst he puked his drunk ass up all over his bathroom.”

“Sounds a lot more boring.” Stella laughed.

“To be honest, by the time we left the bar I was almost as drunk as he was so it was actually quite funny. We may or may not have trashed his apartment whilst we were on a collision course to the bathroom so…”

“Well as long as you weren’t drunk ass driving and on a collision course to his apartment.”

“No, I don’t drink and bike.” He grinned.

“You have a bike?” Stella looked at him, her interest even more piqued. The guy was hot, looked good in a suit, looked equally hot in casuals and now she was imagining him a leather jacket, boots…she glanced around a little as if she half expected someone with a hidden camera to pop out at her and tell her this was a set up.

“Yup, nice little Ducatti.” Evan spoke and she looked back at him. “I had to go back for it the next day. I wasn’t intending on drinking but, well, we’d had a busy week so it was nice to kick back.” “I know that feeling.” Stella smiled, taking another sip of her drink. As she did so she noticed Evan looking over her shoulder, a slight frown on his face “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, sorry, just trying to figure out why that guy over there is looking at me like he wants to kill me.” Stella frowned and turned round, letting out a groan as she spotted Jake. He hastily turned to the barista, handing over his money, when he saw her looking and she shook her head, turning back to Evan.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” she asked, before she stood up and made her way over.

“What are you playing at?” she demanded and Jake looked at her.

“Me? Nothing, I just wanted a coffee.” He shrugged.

“You can’t like to me JJ.” She arched an eyebrow. “Pooch and Coug tell you I was here?”

“Might have mentioned it.”

“Right, well you can take your coffee and go and stop giving my date dirty looks.”

“Date?” Jensen scoffed

Stella groaned, she hadn’t meant to use that…as this wasn’t a date, it was just coffee. “No, it’s not...”but as she looked at Jensen she stopped, frowning “Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like it was utterly ridiculous?”

“I didn’t…”

“Is it so hard to believe that someone might want to date me?”

“Well yeah, I mean no…I mean…”

“You know what? I’m actually not interested in your opinion so…”

“Stell, don’t…”  Jake sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Stella narrowed her eyes “Because I’ve got a pretty long list of things you’ve been a jerk about.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Jake mumbled, taking the coffee from the barista “Look, I gotta go do some…stuff.”

Stella watched him leave with narrowed eyes before she made her way back to the table where Evan was watching with interest.

“Friend of yours?” he asked as she sat down.

“No, well yeah…sorta.” She rubbed at her temple “It’s a long story.”

“I got time.” He shrugged.

Stella took a deep breath “Ok, short version is we met when we were 11, started dating when we were 17, he ended it 4 years later, only he didn’t…”

“Wait, he finished with you?” Evan cut her off and Stella nodded. “There’s definitely something wrong with him.”

Stella blinked before she let out a little huff of laughter “And now we ended up in the same team under Clay. So yeah, it’s kinda messy but it’s definitely over this time. Thing is I still want to be friends, we’ve known each other for so long but…” she groaned and shook her head “Sorry, I’m rambling and I don’t wanna scare you off before we’ve even starts…” she swallowed and shook her head as Evan’s eyes widened a little “Shit, that was presumptuous of me, I mean if you wanna start something…”

She trailed off, shaking her head, cursing herself for rambling as Evan leaned forward, his eyes twinkling.

“Well I’m kinda hoping you’re gonna let me start by taking you to dinner.”

She blinked “What? I mean, yeah, of course…dinner. Great.”

Evan let out a soft laugh “What are you doing tonight?”

“Um, tonight?” Stella looked at him” Nothing, I guess.”

“So how about it?” he asked “I know a great place in DC. I can pick you up?”

“Sure.” Stella swallowed, feeling the heat in her cheeks “I’d like that.” “Ok, settled.” Evan nodded, picking up his coffee “You know, considering Monday’s normally suck, I think I lucked out on this one. I got a second date on the same day as the first.”

“Oh so this is the first?” Stella teased.

“It absolutely is. At least it was in my head when I asked you to join me.” Evan winked.

“Hmmm, not convinced it counts.” Stella quipped.

“We can agree to disagree.” Evan shrugged “I mean, I’d hate to argue on our first date.”

Stella looked at him, before she shook her head snorting before she glanced at her watch “Shit, I really do have to go. I’m due on the range in 20.”

“I should be getting back to.” Evan nodded “You wanna text me your address and I’ll pick you up say 7:30?”

“Sure, that is a date.” She winked standing up and he laughed.

“Glad we agree on that one.”

***** Stella tossed her kit bag down on the floor and made her way to the bedroom, flopping down on her bed with a loud groan. The day had been hectic and now she wanted nothing more than to have a hot back and crawl into bed, but that wasn’t gonna happen as she had a date.

A date which she wasn’t particularly looking forward to anymore. Jensen had behaved like a petulant brat all afternoon, undermining her every instruction with the team they’d been leading through an exercise and she knew he was doing it deliberately. He was always the same, when something happened that he couldn’t process he went one of two ways. Either completely over the top childish humour or sullen spiteful brattishness, and today he had chosen the latter. The problem was, that whilst Stella knew she shouldn’t be bothered that he was clearly upset she was dating someone else, she was bothered. She felt guilty. And she knew it was pathetic. But she just couldn’t help it.

With a groan she reached into her pocket, ready to ring her so called best friend to attempt to talk things over when it lit up in her hand and she let out another loud growl of frustration as she realised it was her sister facetiming her. She debated whether or not she should answer but decided she better had or Rey would simply keep calling her all night.

“Hi.” She answered, a little unenthusiastically and Rey raised her eyebrows.

“Nice to talk to you too.” Rey said sarcastically.

“Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.” Stell sighed, before she fixed a smile on her face “You ok?”

“Yeah, just thought I’d check in. We haven’t talked in a while.” Rey smiled, brushing her long hair out of her face “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Not until Thanksgiving.” Stella shrugged “Got a lot on. But I’ll be back for a week.”

“Ok, well I was gonna book me, you, mom, Jane and Janet into a spa for a day, my treat…well, Richard’s, but whatever. You fancy it?”

“Sure.” Stella nodded “That sounds great, thanks.”

“You could be a little more enthusiastic.” Rey rolled her eyes “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Stella scratched at her head and took a deep breath “No. I’m not. I mean, I should be but…”

“Hey, Stel…” Rey’s expression softened as she saw the tears forming in Stel’s eyes “What’s wrong?” “I have a date tonight.” Stella said and Rey frowned.

“So? You and Jake go out all the time. What’s the-“

“It’s not with Jake.” Stella swallowed “Jake and I…look, that’s over. And I mean it this time, he called quits.”

“Wait, wait…let me get this straight.” Rey frowned “You’re going on a date with someone that isn’t Gi-Joe?”

“Yeah.” “And you’re…upset about this?”

“Not upset so much. I feel guilty Rey.” Stella shook her head “Guilty about Jake and I know that’s stupid and-“ “You’re damned right it’s stupid!” Rey exploded “Fuck Stella, I love Jake to bits, despite the fact we fight all the time, you know I do but…well he dumped you like 5 years ago and I saw how broken you were…and then you got into that whole fucked up arrangement, which, for the record the pair of you may as well have still been dating, but that’s by the by. You’re not together, you have nothing to feel guilty about. And if he’s making you feel like that then he’s being a fucking prick but more to the point if you’re letting him make you feel like that, then you’re being a fucking prick too.”

“Wow, tough love much?” Stella mumbled, wiping at her eye.

“Yeah well you need it.” Rey frowned. “Fuck Stelly, it’s about time you got out there. You’re not thinking of cancelling are you?”

“No.” Stella shook her head. “Evan’s a really nice guy, I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

“Evan huh?” Rey raised her eyebrows “What’s he like? Ooh, send me a picture.”

“What? I don’t have a picture of him!” Stella scoffed “I’ve met the guy like 3 times now. The first time I tipped coffee all down him.”

“Ooh, how very Notting Hill!” Rey said and Stella laughed.

“I hate that film.”

“I know.” Rey grinned, “So, come on, tell me about him, and I want ALL the details!” Stella took a deep breath and began to explain to Rey about how she’d met Evan and then bumped into him in a bar, how they’d met for coffee that morning, what he looked like, what she knew about him so far and by the time she finished the smile was back on her face and she knew instantly what her sister had done. She’d made her focus on why she’d liked Evan in the first place. Classic distraction technique, and it had worked. For all their bitching and arguing, Stella wouldn’t change her big sister for the world, and this was one of the reasons why. She was a brilliant confident and made Rey see things that half the time she was blind to.

“Damned, he sounds great.” Rey’s face split into a grin “I’m almost jealous.”

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Stella shrugged “It might go to shit after this date.”

“That’s the spirit, positive thinking…” Rey rolled her eyes, “Fuck Stella, don’t go into it thinking like that.”

“I’m not, I mean I won’t…” Stella took a deep breath as she checked her watch “Ah fuck, it’s half 6…I need to get ready. I only have an hour.”

“Ok, where is he taking you?”

“No idea.” Stella shrugged “Some place in DC. All he said in his message was to be ready for 7:30 and the dress code was smart casual…”

“Right, so this I can help with.” Rey grinned. “Stand up…go to your closet…” Stella did as she was told, heaving herself off her bed. “Turn the phone around so I can examine your wardrobe…” Rey made a twirling motion with her finger and Stella obliged. “Hmmm” she heard her sister mumbled. “I forgot what your dress sense is like. How long did you say we have?”

“Fuck you.” Stella laughed as Rey chuckled.

*****

Under Rey’s sharp eye they settled on a long sleeved, navy blue sweater dress that finished just below her knees, teamed with a pair of knee high, tan suede, slouch boots with a small heel. With a hum of approval, Rey told her she’d “knock him dead” before hanging up and allowing her to finish getting ready not after offering Stella one final piece of advice.

“Leave the jacket at home.” Rey grinned “Then, you can test his chivalry level when or if he offers you’re his jacket.”

Stella rolled her eyes and hung up before she headed for a quick shower, taking care not to wet her hair as it would never dry in time. Luckily, thanks to the fact it had been in a French braid all day, when she took it down it fell round her face in loose waves and actually looked like she’d meant it to look that way. She did her make-up, keeping it simple with a light brown smoky effect and grabbing her purse,  took a last look in the mirror and headed out of her room.

Evan arrived at 7:30 on the dot, just as promised and as she made her way outside she smiled as he was stood, leaning against a sleek black Mercedes. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a cream button down and a tweed jacket with brown boots. Stella smiled as he stood up straight and opened the door to the car for her.

“You look lovely.” He complimented and she smiled.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself”.

“Glad you approve, hate to think I was showing you up.” He winked as she settled into the passenger seat.

Evan drove them the 20 minutes or so into DC. The restaurant he had picked was lovely. Not too fancy, but nice enough to be a little bit more special than a run-of-the-mill evening out the Losers often shared. Evan was an absolute gentleman, opening the car door for her, the restaurant door to allow her in first, taking her coat to hand to the Maître-D, pulling her chair out for her.  The food and drink was amazing, Stella ordering a gorgeous grilled steak and prawn salad, Evan opting for a burger which Stella commented looked big enough to feed her entire team. They split a bottle of rich and earthy red wine, Evan having driven didn’t want any more and neither of them wanted a hangover at work, not to mention Stella was conscious about getting drunk on their first date. The conversation was easy, that wasn’t a shock given how it had been between them in the bar the other night and over coffee, but this time they got to know each other a little better. Stella found out that Evan married at 22, divorced at 26 after his wife decided she couldn’t cope any more with him being away for long periods of time. He had no kids, parents both dead, and he’d been working for the CIA now for 2 years after deciding he’d had enough of life in the Navy.

None of it was forced, there was no awkwardness, and the 3 hours they spent together flew by and Stella wasn’t surprised therefore to find that when he pulled his black Mercedes C-class into the parking lot outside her condo building, she was really disappointed the evening had come to an end.

Evan cut the engine and Stella smiled to herself, her fingers running over the seatbelt. “So, the car is nice and all but I kinda wished I’d got to see your bike.”

“Well, I’m not sure that dress you’re wearing would have been very practical for riding pillion, Doll but-“ he turned to face her, his blue eyes locking onto hers as he smiled, and she didn’t miss the little nervous twitch of his lips “-maybe there’ll be another date so I can take you out on it?”

The fact it was a question didn’t pass Stella by and she felt the heat in her neck as she smiled gently “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Evan beamed “Great, that’s great.” He paused before he gestured over his shoulder “Let me walk you to the door.”

Stella didn’t bother to point out she was a lethal trained killing machine. Instead she nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear as Evan climbed out of his car and made his way round to the passenger side, opening her door. He held out his hand to help her out and once she was clear he shut the door and they walked side by side to the entrance, Stella still had his jacket draped over her shoulders from when they’d stepped out of the restaurant. He’d passed Rey’s test with flying colours after he’d dropped it over her shoulders without so much as a word when he saw her shiver slightly in the brisk, October air. Once they reached the door Stella stopped, removed it from her shoulders it off and he took it with a thanks as she reached into her bag for her key. She looked up at Evan who finished shrugging his jacket back on and she smiled.

“I had a really good time tonight, thank you.”

Evan took a deep breath, a cheeky expression lighting up his handsome face.

“Yeah, you know, considering you had so little faith in the fact I’d even call you, I think I did pretty well.” He quipped as she laughed “Two dates on the same day and a promise of a third…”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure that coffee this morning counts as a date.” Stella arched her eyebrow and Evan made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Pity, because I had it on good authority that the second date was an acceptable moment to have a first kiss.” He looked at her and Stella swallowed, her eyes flicking to his lips before she hastily moved her gaze back to his, but the amusement in his eyes told her he’d seen.

“Ok, well, maybe I can be persuaded that coffee this morning counts.” She bit her lip.

Evan grinned, and reached out with one hand, curling it lightly against her hip as he dipped his head to hers, catching her mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. It wasn’t long, it wasn’t especially passionate but it was perfect for the moment. When they pulled away Evan smiled and stepped back, allowing her to open the door which he leaned over and pushed for her, his palm holding it in place so she could step inside.

“See you later” he smiled.

“Yeah, yeah you will.”

With a final glance over her shoulder, Stella headed for the elevator and selected her floor, sliding the key card into the slot. As the doors shut she leaned against the wall, a smile flickering on her face. She’d had a lovely evening, the kiss being the icing on the cake. She let out a little sigh as she realised that Evan was the first person she’d kissed since she’d started dating Jake (well, not counting Roque if you could even count that) and it had felt completely different. Her first kiss with Jake had sent tingles through her entire body, like someone had set off fireworks in her stomach, whereas that with Evan had been a softer flutter, like butterflies.

But, she supposed that was the difference between being a hormonal 17 year old kissing her first boyfriend and the now more mature and world-wise 26 year old she was.

At that point the doors to the elevator opened and she pushed herself off the wall and stepped through them.  

****

Jake opened the door to his apartment, pulling it shut behind him and glanced up as he heard the elevator doors open. Stella stepped onto the landing, looking in her bag before she glanced up and paused as she saw him. Jake took in her appearance. The long-sleeved woollen dress she was wearing finished just below the knees of boot clad legs and damned it, it hugged her curves in all the right way.  She looked fucking amazing.

“You look nice.” He offered and she smiled.

“Thanks. I would say the same about you but…” she gestured to his sweats, scruffy red hoody and dirty sneakers and he scoffed shrugging.

“Yeah, well last time I checked you didn’t need to get dressed up to go to McDonalds so…”

“Seriously?” she looked at him “Your eating habits are ridiculous. It’s 10:45!”

“Yeah well, I wasn’t hungry before but now I am.” He shrugged

“Fair enough.” she chuckled and turned to head to her apartment.”

“Where you getting in from?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. He watched as she stopped and hesitated a little, before she drew her shoulders back and stood tall as she turned to face him.

“I’ve been on a date.” She said.

Yup, there it was.

“With that prick that bought you coffee this morning?” Jake blurted out and Stella narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“Don’t know who you’re referring to.” Stella looked at him “The only prick I know gets the munchies at almost 11 at night.”

Jake took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “Piss off, Stel”  

“No need to be rude Jacob.” She glowered and he raised his eyebrows.

“You just called me a prick and I’m the one who’s being rude?”

“Whatever Jake” it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“Whatever Stel…” he mimicked in a stupid voice and she shook her head.

“Grow up” and with that final barb she turned, opened her door and shut it loudly behind her leaving him staring at the solid wooden door that sported a large, brass 4a in the middle.

Jake simply stood there for a moment, before his hands dropped to his hips and he let out a heavy sigh, looking at the floor. Funnily enough he’d lost his appetite. With a final glance at her door he turned and let himself back into his own apartment, pulling out his phone.

When he found the number he wanted he pressed dial, and waited for them to answer…

****

Chapter 3 Part 2

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Ch 3- Man, You Really Are As Dumb As You Look…

Part 1

Summary: Evan asks Stella on a date, Jake’s not impressed and the entire thing takes him on a little trip down memory lane…

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT via flashback in Part 2 (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  So the smut in this chapter is way back when the pair of them were kids. Both 18 before anyone says anything, and is designed to be a truthful reflection of a fist time! We hope you enjoy it because it certainly made us giggle a lot.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist 

Love encompasses a range of strong and positive emotional and mental states, from the most sublime virtue or good habit, the deepest interpersonal affection and to the simplest pleasure.

It was a sunny fall morning, and for a Monday Jensen actually felt pretty good. He walked down the corridor, his heavy combat boots slapping lightly on the lino floor, whistling to himself. He stepped aside to let a pretty red head out of one of the rooms, turning to watch her walk away, grinning to himself as his eyes dropped to her combat trouser clad ass before he shook his head and continued his route to the office.

He walked in with a loud “S’up losers” and looked around “Where’s Stel?” he asked, nodding to her vacant desk.

“She got a call about 10 minutes ago and said she was heading for a coffee.” Pooch said, as Cougar gave a chuckle. “And no prizes for who was on the phone given the way she was grinning and telling us not to be nosey bastards as she left.” “Who?” Jake plopped down onto his chair, turning in it so he could see Cougar and Pooch, his legs extending in front of him.

“Man you really are as dumb as you look.” Pooch shook his head as Cougar continued to grin.

As he suddenly realised what Pooch was alluding to, Jensen’s eyes flew open wide “Don’t tell me it’s that guy from the bar the other night?”

“Yup” Cougar nodded “Clearly they traded numbers...”

Jake suddenly felt hot and there was an annoying buzzing in his ears. Swallowing he took a deep breath and shook his head “Nah, that’s not Stel’s style.”

“What do you mean it’s not her style?” Pooch frowned.

“She only met him like last Friday.” Jensen shrugged “She moves slower, more cautious.”

“She’s not 11 now Jensen.” Pooch looked at Cougar “What, you expect her to wait for 6 years for this one as well?”

Jensen narrowed his eyes “That’s…that was different, we were kids.”

“Well she’s not a kid anymore.” Cougar smirked, picking up his phone “And she’s hot and free.”

“Yeah, what exactly did you think would happen?” Pooch asked.

“I-“ Jensen looked at him, then to Cougar, both of them watching him as he floundered for a response “-guess I don’t...”

“Nothing.” Cougar cut him off, looking at Pooch “The answer is nothing, because he acts like a dumbass and never thinks about what he’s doing.” “I was doing your momma last night.” Jake shot at him and Pooch snorted whilst Cougar shook his head with a groan which morphed into a grudging chuckle. Momma jokes were a well-worn jest between the group and it was an unwritten rule that when someone dropped one, no offense was meant or taken.

“Oh really?” Pooch turned to look at Jake, arching an eyebrow “Since when has Coug’s momma been called Stella, coz that’s all I heard you groaning from my apartment, and I live a floor down…”

Cougar let out a howl of laughter as Jake glared at Pooch “You still get yourself off thinking about her. You’re screwed up, man!”

“No, that’s…I wasn’t jacking off last night!” Jake shook his head, “Pooch is talking shit.”

“Yeah but, made you blush!” Pooch winked and Jake took a deep breath, his cheeks flushed with heat. “Oh my God you actually do!” Cougar snorted.

“Fuck you both.” Jake groaned as he stood up and stormed from the office, bumping into Roque on his way.

“Hey Jensen where’s the fire?” Roque watched him go, before he turned and walked into the room “Where’s that ray of sunshine going?”

Pooch scoffed “He’s craving coffee all of a sudden.”

Roque frowned as Cougar let out another deep chuckle.

***** “So, no suit today?” Stella asked, taking in Evan’s casual appearance. He was dressed in a white Henley and black jeans which was a stark contrast to the crisp suit she’d first seen him wearing in this very place a week ago.

“No, I only wear that when I have some hot-shot boss to impress.” He smiled as he placed Stella’s coffee down on the table, gracefully sitting down in the seat opposite her.

“Suppose that’s the beauty of being in uniform.” Stella grinned, thanking him for the coffee. “Don’t have to worry about office wear!”

“Yeah, probably one thing I miss about being in active service.” Evan agreed. “Actually, come to think about it, it’s the only thing I miss about being in active service.”

Stella chuckled and picked up the large mug in her hands, inhaling deeply. “Man, I love Pumpkin Spiced Lattes” she grinned.

“I can tell.” Evan smiled “You’re practically purring over it.”

Stella shrugged “I wait all year for these things and besides, the last one I had ended up all over some guy’s shirt.”

“Poor guy.” Evan quipped, his eyes on hers as he took a sip of his own drink.

“Yeah, I basically scalded him.” Stella shrugged, “And he didn’t deserve it either, turns out he was a pretty nice guy.” “A nice guy that spent all day smelling of cinnamon and whatever else they put in a pumpkin spiced latte.” “Win-win as far as I’m concerned” Stella grinned, setting her cup down. “I like that smell.” “Maybe you should contact Starbucks’ head office.” Evan set his own cup down gently, his large hand still curled round it “Suggest they release a cologne.”

“Uh-uh, bad idea.” Stella swallowed another sip of her coffee. “I wouldn’t be able to resist. I’d be following every guy wearing it round like some kind of animal tracking pheromones.” Evan let out a loud laugh and Stella grinned watching him for a second before his laughter died into quieter chuckles and she cocked her head to the side a little “You know, I was surprised you called me.”

“Why’s that?” he frowned slightly

She shrugged “I dunno, I just thought you were fooling around at the bar and that you’d end up in some other girls’ bed that night.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she inwardly groaned “Shit. I didn’t mean that how it sounded…”

“Well, if you must know I didn’t.” Evan said, his voice harbouring a trace of humour “I ended up cradling my friend’s head whilst he puked his drunk ass up all over his bathroom.”

“Sounds a lot more boring.” Stella laughed.

“To be honest, by the time we left the bar I was almost as drunk as he was so it was actually quite funny. We may or may not have trashed his apartment whilst we were on a collision course to the bathroom so…”

“Well as long as you weren’t drunk ass driving and on a collision course to his apartment.”

“No, I don’t drink and bike.” He grinned.

“You have a bike?” Stella looked at him, her interest even more piqued. The guy was hot, looked good in a suit, looked equally hot in casuals and now she was imagining him a leather jacket, boots…she glanced around a little as if she half expected someone with a hidden camera to pop out at her and tell her this was a set up.

“Yup, nice little Ducatti.” Evan spoke and she looked back at him. “I had to go back for it the next day. I wasn’t intending on drinking but, well, we’d had a busy week so it was nice to kick back.” “I know that feeling.” Stella smiled, taking another sip of her drink. As she did so she noticed Evan looking over her shoulder, a slight frown on his face “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, sorry, just trying to figure out why that guy over there is looking at me like he wants to kill me.” Stella frowned and turned round, letting out a groan as she spotted Jake stood in his combats at the counter. He hastily turned to the barista, handing over his money when he saw her looking and she shook her head, turning back to Evan.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” she asked, before she stood up and made her way over.

“What are you playing at?” she demanded and Jake looked at her.

“Me? Nothing, I just wanted a coffee.” He shrugged.

“You can’t lie to me JJ.” She arched an eyebrow. “Pooch and Coug tell you I was here?”

“Might have mentioned it.”

“Right, well you can take your coffee and go and stop giving my date dirty looks.”

“Date?” Jensen scoffed

Stella groaned, she hadn’t meant to use that word as this wasn’t a date, it was just coffee. “No, it’s not...”but as she looked at Jensen she stopped, frowning “Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like it was utterly ridiculous?”

“I didn’t…”

“Is it so hard to believe that someone might want to date me?” she demanded, hands falling to her hips.

“Well yeah, I mean no…I mean…”

“You know what? I’m actually not interested in your opinion so…”

“Stel, don’t…”  Jake sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Stella narrowed her eyes “Because I’ve got a pretty long list of things you’ve been a jerk about.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Jake mumbled, taking the coffee from the barista “Look, I gotta go do some…stuff.”

Stella watched him leave with narrowed eyes before she made her way back to the table where Evan was watching with interest.

“Friend of yours?” he asked as she sat down.

“Yeah, I think so..well-” She rubbed at her temple “It’s a long story.”

“I got time.” He shrugged.

Stella took a deep breath “Ok, short version is we met when we were 11, started dating when we were 17, he ended it 5 years later, only he didn’t really as we carried on…”

“Wait, he finished with you?” Evan cut her off and Stella nodded. “There’s definitely something wrong with him.”

Stella blinked before she let out a little huff of laughter “And now we ended up in the same team under Clay. So yeah, it’s kinda messy but it’s definitely over this time. Thing is I still want to be friends, we’ve known each other for so long but…” she groaned and shook her head “Sorry, I’m rambling and I don’t wanna scare you off before we’ve even started…” she swallowed and shook her head as Evan’s eyes widened a little “Shit, that was presumptuous of me, I mean if you wanna start something…”

She trailed off, shaking her head, cursing herself for her verbal diarrhoea as Evan leaned forward, his eyes twinkling.

“Well I’m kinda hoping you’re gonna let me start by taking you to dinner.”

She blinked “What? I mean, yeah, of course…dinner. Great.”

Evan let out a soft laugh “What are you doing tonight?”

“Um, tonight?” Stella looked at him” Nothing, I guess.”

“So how about it?” he asked “I know a great place in DC. I can pick you up?”

“Sure.” Stella swallowed, feeling the heat in her cheeks “I’d like that.” “Ok, settled.” Evan nodded, picking up his coffee “You know, considering Monday’s normally suck, I think I lucked out on this one. I got a second date on the same day as the first.”

“Oh so this is the first?” Stella teased.

“It absolutely is. At least it was in my head when I asked you to join me.” Evan winked.

“Hmmm, not convinced it counts.” Stella quipped.

“We can agree to disagree.” Evan shrugged “I mean, I’d hate to argue on our first date.”

Stella looked at him, before she shook her head snorting before she glanced at her watch “Shit, I really do have to go. I’m due on the range in 20.”

“I should be getting back too.” Evan nodded “You wanna text me your address and I’ll pick you up say 7:30?”

“Sure, that is a date.” She winked standing up and he laughed.

“Glad we agree on that one.”

***** Stella tossed her kit bag down on the floor and made her way to the bedroom, flopping down on her bed with a loud groan. The day had been hectic and now she wanted nothing more than to have a hot bath and crawl into bed, but that wasn’t gonna happen as she had a date.

A date which she wasn’t particularly looking forward to anymore. Jensen had behaved like a petulant brat all afternoon, undermining her every instruction with the team they’d been leading through an exercise and she knew he was doing it deliberately. He was always the same, when something happened that he didn’t like he went one of two ways. Either completely over the top childish humour or sullen spiteful brattishness, and today he had chosen the latter. The problem was, that whilst Stella knew she shouldn’t be bothered that he was clearly upset she was dating someone else, she was bothered. She felt guilty. And she knew it was pathetic. But she just couldn’t help it.

With a groan she reached into her pocket, ready to ring her so called best friend to attempt to talk things over when it lit up in her hand and she let out another loud growl of frustration as she realised it was her sister facetiming her. She debated whether or not she should answer but decided she better had or Rey would simply keep calling her all night.

“Hi.” She answered, a little unenthusiastically and Rey raised her eyebrows.

“Nice to talk to you too.” Rey said sarcastically.

“Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.” Stel sighed, before she fixed a smile on her face “You ok?”

“Yeah, just thought I’d check in. We haven’t talked in a while.” Rey smiled, brushing her long hair out of her face “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Not until Thanksgiving.” Stella shrugged “Got a lot on. But I’ll be back for a week.”

“Ok, well I was gonna book me, you, mom, Jane and Janet into a spa for a day, my treat…well, Richard’s, but whatever. You fancy it?”

“Sure.” Stella nodded “That sounds great, thanks.”

“You could be a little more enthusiastic.” Rey rolled her eyes “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Stella scratched at her head and took a deep breath “No. I’m not. I mean, I should be but…”

“Hey...” Rey’s expression softened as she saw the tears forming in Stel’s eyes “What’s wrong?” “I have a date tonight.” Stella said and Rey frowned.

“So? You and Jake go out all the time. What’s the-“

“It’s not with Jake.” Stella swallowed “Jake and I…look, that’s over. And I mean it this time, he called quits.”

“Wait, wait…let me get this straight.” Rey frowned “You’re going on a date with someone that isn’t GI-Joe?”

“Yes.” Stella groaned “Why does everyone find that so hard to believe?” “And you’re…upset about this?”

“Not upset so much. I feel guilty Rey.” Stella shook her head “Guilty about Jake and I know that’s stupid and-“ “You’re damned right it’s stupid!” Rey exploded “Fuck Stella, I love Jake to bits, despite the fact we fight all the time, you know I do but…well he dumped you like 4 years ago and I saw how broken you were…and then you got into that whole fucked up arrangement, which, for the record the pair of you may as well have still been dating, but that’s by the by. You’re not together, you have nothing to feel guilty about. And if he’s making you feel like that then he’s being a fucking prick but more to the point if you’re letting him make you feel like that, then you’re being a fucking prick too.”

“Wow, tough love much?” Stella mumbled, wiping at her eye.

“Yeah well you need it.” Rey frowned. “Fuck Stelly, it’s about time you got out there. You’re not thinking of cancelling are you?”

“No.” Stella shook her head. “Evan’s a really nice guy, I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

“Evan huh?” Rey raised her eyebrows “What’s he like? Ooh, send me a picture.”

“What? I don’t have a picture of him!” Stella scoffed “I’ve met the guy like 3 times now. The first time I tipped coffee all down him.”

“Ooh, how very Notting Hill!” Rey said and Stella laughed.

“I hate that film.”

“I know.” Rey grinned, “So, come on, tell me about him, and I want ALL the details!” Stella took a deep breath and began to explain to Rey about how she’d met Evan and then bumped into him in a bar, how they’d had coffee that morning, what he looked like, what she knew about him so far and by the time she finished the smile was back on her face and she knew instantly what her sister had done. She’d made her focus on why she’d liked Evan in the first place. Classic distraction technique, and it had worked. For all their bitching and arguing, Stella wouldn’t change her big sister for the world, and this was one of the reasons why. She was a brilliant confident and made Rey see things that half the time she was blind to.

“Damned, he sounds great.” Rey’s face split into a grin “I’m almost jealous.”

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Stella shrugged “It might go to shit after this date.”

“That’s the spirit, positive thinking…” Rey rolled her eyes, “Fuck Stella, don’t go into it thinking like that.”

“I’m not, I mean I won’t…” Stella took a deep breath as she checked her watch “Ah fuck, it’s half 6…I need to get ready. I only have an hour.”

“Ok, where is he taking you?”

“No idea.” Stella shrugged “Some place in DC. All he said in his message was to be ready for 7:30 and the dress code was smart casual…”

“Right, so this I can help with.” Rey grinned. “Stand up…go to your closet…” Stella did as she was told, heaving herself off her bed. “Turn the phone around so I can examine your wardrobe…” Rey made a twirling motion with her finger and Stella obliged. “Hmmm” she heard her sister mumbled. “I forgot what your dress sense is like. How long did you say we have?”

“Fuck you.” Stella laughed as Rey chuckled.

*****

Under Rey’s sharp eye they settled on a long sleeved, navy blue sweater dress that finished just below her knees, teamed with a pair of knee high, tan suede, slouch boots with a small heel. With a hum of approval, Rey told her she’d “knock him dead” before hanging up and allowing her to finish getting ready not after offering Stella one final piece of advice.

“Leave the jacket at home.” Rey grinned “Then, you can test his chivalry level when or if he offers you his jacket.”

Stella rolled her eyes and hung up before she headed for a quick shower, taking care not to wet her hair as it would never dry in time. Luckily, thanks to the fact it had been in a French braid all day, when she took it down it fell round her face in loose waves like she’d meant it to look that way. She dressed, did her make-up, keeping it simple with a light brown smoky effect and grabbing her purse, took a last look in the mirror and headed out of her room.

Evan arrived at 7:30 on the dot, just as promised and as she made her way outside she smiled and gave a little wave over to where he stood, leaning against a sleek black Mercedes. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a cream button down and a tweed jacket with brown boots. Stella smiled as he stood up straight and opened the door to the car for her.

“You look lovely.” He complimented and she smiled.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself”.

“Glad you approve, hate to think I was showing you up.” He winked as she settled into the passenger seat.

Evan drove them the 20 minutes or so into DC. The restaurant he had picked was lovely. Not too fancy, but nice enough to be a little bit more special than a run-of-the-mill evening out the Losers often shared. Evan was an absolute gentleman, opening the car door for her, the restaurant door to allow her in first, his hand in the small of her back as thy followed he Maître-D to their table,  before pulling her chair out for her to allow her to sit down. The food and drink was amazing, Stella ordering a gorgeous grilled steak and prawn salad, Evan opting for a burger which Stella commented looked big enough to feed her entire team. They split a bottle of rich and earthy red wine, Evan having driven didn’t want any more and neither of them wanted a hangover at work, not to mention Stella was conscious about getting drunk on their first date. The conversation was easy, that wasn’t a shock given how it had been between them in the bar the other night and over coffee, but this time they got to know each other a little better. Stella found out that Evan married at 22, divorced at 26 after his wife decided she couldn’t cope any more with him being away for long periods of time. He had no kids, parents both dead, and he’d been working for the CIA now for 2 years after deciding he’d had enough of life in the Navy.

None of it was forced, there was no awkwardness, and the 3 hours they spent together flew by. Of course Evan wouldn’t hear of allowing her to split the bill, picking up the check and Stella wasn’t surprised in the slightest to find that when he pulled his black Mercedes C-class into the parking lot outside her condo building, she was really disappointed the evening had come to an end.

Evan cut the engine and Stella smiled to herself, her fingers running over the seatbelt. “So, the car is nice and all but I kinda wished I’d got to see your bike.”

“Well, I’m not sure that dress you’re wearing would have been very practical for riding pillion, Doll but-“ he turned to face her, his blue eyes locking onto hers as he smiled, and she didn’t miss the little nervous twitch of his lips “-maybe there’ll be another date so I can take you out on it?”

The fact it was a question didn’t pass Stella by and she felt the heat in her neck as she smiled gently “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Evan beamed “Great.” He paused before he gestured over his shoulder “Let me walk you to the door.”

Stella didn’t bother to point out she was a lethal trained killing machine. Instead she nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear as Evan climbed out of his car and made his way round to the passenger side, opening her door. He held out his hand to help her out and once she was clear he shut the door and they walked side by side to the entrance, Stella still had his jacket draped over her shoulders from when they’d stepped out of the restaurant. He’d passed Rey’s test with flying colours after he’d dropped it over her shoulders without so much as a word when he saw her shiver slightly in the brisk, October air. Once they reached the door Stella stopped, removed it from her shoulders and he took it with a thanks as she reached into her bag for her key. She looked up at Evan who finished shrugging his jacket back on and she smiled.

“I had a really good time tonight, thank you.”

Evan took a deep breath, a cheeky expression lighting up his handsome face.

“Yeah, you know, considering you had so little faith in the fact I’d even call you, I think I did pretty well.” He quipped as she laughed “Two dates on the same day and a promise of a third…”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure that coffee this morning counts as a date.” Stella arched her eyebrow and Evan made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Pity, because I had it on good authority that the second date was an acceptable moment to have a first kiss.” He looked at her and Stella swallowed, her eyes flicking to his lips before she hastily moved her gaze back to his, but the amusement in his eyes told her he’d seen.

“Ok, well, maybe I can be persuaded that coffee this morning counts.” She bit her lip.

Evan grinned, and reached out with one hand, curling it lightly against her hip as he dipped his head to hers, catching her mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. It wasn’t long, it wasn’t especially passionate but it was perfect for the moment. When they pulled away Evan smiled and stepped back, allowing her to open the door which he leaned over and pushed for her, his palm holding it in place so she could step inside.

“See you later” he smiled.

“Yeah, yeah you will.”

With a final glance over her shoulder, Stella headed for the elevator and selected her floor, sliding the key card into the slot. As the doors shut she leaned against the wall, a smile flickering on her face. She’d had a lovely evening, the kiss being the icing on the cake. She let out a little sigh as she realised that Evan was the first person she’d kissed since she’d started dating Jake (well, not counting Roque if you could even count that) and it had felt completely different. Her first kiss with Jake had sent tingles through her entire body, like someone had set off fireworks in her stomach, whereas that with Evan had been a softer flutter, like butterflies.

But, she supposed that was the difference between being a hormonal 17 year old kissing her first boyfriend and the now more mature and world-wise 26 year old she was.

At that point the doors to the elevator opened and she pushed herself off the wall and stepped through them.  

****

Jake opened the door to his apartment, pulling it shut behind him and glanced up as he heard the elevator doors open. Stella stepped onto the landing, looking in her bag before she glanced up and paused as she saw him. Jake took in her appearance. The long-sleeved woollen dress she was wearing finished just below the knees of her boot clad legs and damned it, it hugged her curves in all the right way.  She looked great.

“You look nice.” He offered and she smiled.

“Thanks. I would say the same about you but…” she gestured to his sweats, scruffy red hoody and dirty sneakers and he scoffed shrugging.

“Yeah, well last time I checked you didn’t need to get dressed up to go to McDonalds so…”

“Seriously?” she looked at him “Your eating habits are ridiculous. It’s 10:45!”

“Yeah well, I wasn’t hungry before but now I am.” He shrugged

“Fair enough.” she chuckled and turned to head to her apartment.”

“Where you getting in from?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. He watched as she stopped and hesitated a little, before she drew her shoulders back and stood tall as she turned to face him.

“I’ve been on a date.” She said.

Yup, there it was.

“With that prick that bought you coffee this morning?” Jake blurted out and Stella narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“Don’t know who you’re referring to.” Stella looked at him “The only prick I know gets the munchies at almost 11 at night.”

Jake took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “Piss off, Stella”  

“No need to be rude Jacob.” She glowered and he raised his eyebrows.

“You just called me a prick and I’m the one who’s being rude?”

“Whatever Jake” it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“Whatever Stel…” he mimicked in a stupid voice and she shook her head.

“Grow up” and with that final barb she turned, opened her door and shut it loudly behind her leaving him staring at the solid wooden door that sported a large, brass 4a in the middle.

Jake simply stood there for a moment, before his hands dropped to his hips and he let out a heavy sigh, looking at the floor. Funnily enough he’d lost his appetite. With a final glance at her door he turned and let himself back into his own apartment, pulling out his phone.

When he found the number he wanted he pressed dial, and waited for them to answer…

*****

PART 2 

[harley-sunday]

The Draw [17]

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end…

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 3.5k

AN: I’m sorry.

Masterlist

You’re still a little hungover when you make it into the office that next morning, not for the first time glad Deb usually works from home on Monday. You’re not sure you could face her right now without having to explain everything that’s going on. Your phone rings just as you’ve turned your laptop on, the sound only adding to the already-there headache, and so you take the call without looking to see who it is first, answering with a rather curt, “Hello?”

“Hey,”

A shiver runs down your spine when you hear his voice, but you don’t say anything.

He sighs, “I take it you’ve seen the pictures?”

“I have.”

“Will you let me explain or have you made up your mind already?”

There’s such an accusation in his voice that you physically recoil, “What?”

“Sorry,” he says almost immediately, “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

You let out a staggered breath, not really knowing how to reply.

“There was a birthday party for one of the cast members,” he starts, his voice much more controlled now. “The girl in the pictures is one of the extras and I don’t know, at one point she told me her grandmother’s Romanian and how she used to go there every year during the holidays and so we were just talking about the country and how much it’s changed over the years, but that’s all.” He clears his throat, “Nothing happened.”

You let his words hang in the air for a moment, the silence between you two deafening and uncomfortable, and it scares you. It’s not that you don’t believe him, but you can’t help but wonder if this is how it’s going to be from now on, with him away for work while you both have to deal with something neither of you had any part in but that’s putting a strain on your relationship nonetheless.

“Talk to me,”

You shake your head even though he can’t see you, “I can’t-” you take a deep breath, “I don’t know if we should do this over the phone, Seb.”

“This?”

“Please don’t,” you whisper, hearing the hurt in his voice. “You know that’s not what-.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I don’t know, ok?” You close your eyes and lean back in your chair, “I just think we should talk about this face-to-face. When we’re together. Not with a million miles and a few time zones between us.”

“Ok,” he agrees, but you can tell there’s something he’s holding back.

“Ok,” you echo. “So I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be seeing you, Stan,” you say, trying to lighten the mood, but by then you hear the call’s already disconnected.

You try to focus on work the rest of the week but often find your mind wandering and so by Friday afternoon you tell Deb you’re taking half a day and head home around lunch time. Trying to distract yourself you decide to clean the house, starting in the bathroom, before you move onto your bedroom, and Jake’s guest bedroom. You’re pretty sure there’s some psychological reason why you feel this sudden need to organize, probably something to do with trying to control what you can, but so far it isn’t really working.

You order a pizza for dinner and while you wait for it to be delivered you decide to tackle the second guest bedroom. It’s not so much a guest bedroom as it is a storage room, one you haven’t really stepped foot into for at least a year or so, and so you’re a bit hesitant when you open the door. A quiet, “Oh,” escapes you because suddenly you remember when you were here last, the proof of it standing on an easel, almost taunting you.

It’s a painting you made right after you found out Mark cheated on you, all your anger put into this one piece, the colour palette nothing but dark blues and greys, almost like a dark storm rolling in, called ‘The Currents’.

Mark made you give up painting when you were together, deeming the abstract work you preferred to make ugly and something his three-year old niece could do. In a way, painting this was your way of claiming your life back and even now it makes you feel happy. It also makes you realize how much you’ve missed painting and you wonder if maybe you should pick it up again.

The doorbell rings then, interrupting your thoughts and so you quickly make your way downstairs, leaving the door slightly ajar as a sort of promise to come back.

Letting yourself in with the key Lauren gave you shortly after she moved into her apartment, you call out, “It’s me!” You hear her reply from the kitchen and so you make your way over there, finding her stirring in a big pot with a glass of wine on the counter beside her. “So, sorry I’m late,” you tell her while you kiss her cheek, “I lost time while I was cleaning the kitchen and-”

“It’s fine,” she smiles while she pours you a glass of wine. “Matt’s just gone out to pick up some more eggs for the Pavlova.”

“Pavlova?” It’s your favourite and she knows it and so you bump your shoulder against hers with a smile, “I love you.”

“I know,” she says with a wink. “I figured I’d better spoil you a little.” Her look turns more serious then, “How are you?”

You shrug, “Ok, I guess. I mean-” you sigh, “I’m just trying to figure out why I’m so upset about this, you know? He told me nothing happened, and I believe him, so why is it still bothering me so much?”

“Are the pictures bothering you, or,” Lauren turns around so she’s facing you, “is it maybe just that you don’t have any control over it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she scrunches up her nose, “I’ve been thinking, and please don’t take offense-”

“None taken,”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” she counters with a grin.

“Yeah, but it’s you. I know you and I know you’re not trying to hurt me.”

Her eyebrows knit together then, as she takes in your words. She looks back up at you, “Babe.”

You nod, because you think you know what she’s getting at. “I know you,” you repeat a little slower now, “and I know you’re not trying to hurt me.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you echo, because fuck, maybe this is it. Or at least part of it. You bite your lip and let your eyes fall to the floor, trying to figure it out. When you look back up you find her staring at you with a sad smile and you know she agrees.

“If it makes you feel any better,” but she knows it probably won’t and so she pulls you in for a hug, “I was going to tell you something along those lines too, but in much more of a go-around kind of a way.”

Before you can say anything else there’s a knock at the door and so she lets go of you, the look on her face letting you know she’s here if you need anything and so you mouth a quiet, “Thank you.”

Matt is exactly how you imagined he would be, a good-looking, down-to-earth guy who is a perfect match for Lauren. You watch them during dinner and can’t help but smile when you see how in love they are.

“So, Matt,” you start when Lauren’s in the kitchen to get dessert. You watch him as he sits up and looks at you expectantly, “You’ve made a pretty good first impression, but as Lauren’s best friend I’m obliged to tell you that first of all,” you hold up a finger for added effect, “I’m not above kicking your ass if you ever do something to hurt her.”

“Noted,” he says with a nod.

“And second, her favourite flowers are Dahlia’s, she hates chocolate but would kill for vanilla Tootsie Rolls, and,” you lean in closer, “if you ever really want to sweep her off her feet, you should take her to go see Hairspray Live.”

He grins, “Thank you.”

“Hey,” you shrug, “anything to make our girl happy, right?”

There’s a knock on your door but before you even have the chance to respond the door opens and you hear a loud, “Hey, loser!” coming from downstairs.

“Hey,” you yell back, while you finish your brushstroke, “I’m upstairs. Guest bedroom.” You smile when you see his head pop into view not much later, “What are you doing here?”

He starts to protest, “Can’t a guy-”

“No, Nate,” you scoff, “not you.”

“Ok, fine,” he admits, “Sarah made me go check up on you after I told her what happened last week.”

“You can tell Sarah I’m fine,” you reply while you dry your paintbrush on the rag that’s hanging over your shoulder.

“You sure about that?” Nathan asks with a nod towards the half-finished canvas.

“I think I’m going to call it ‘Love’,” you say, as though that explains it all. But then again, it kind of does. “I found my old supplies last week and, I don’t know,” you shrug, “figured I might as well give it a go and see if I still got it.”

“And you’re sure this has nothing to with what’s going on between you and Sebastian?”

“No.” But your answer came a little too fast and you both know it. Nathan just looks at you without saying anything and it isn’t long before you cave, “Of course it has.” You put the paintbrush down and motion for him to follow you downstairs so you can wash your hands and make both of you a cup of coffee.

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I honestly don’t know,” you tell him over your shoulder while you grab two mugs from somewhere inside the cabinet. “I’m afraid we both fucked up this time and that there’s no coming back from this.”

“What do you mean,” he asks, shaking his head, “how was this a joint effort? He’s the one who ended up in the tabloids-”

“Yeah, but I think I made too big a deal out of it.” You sigh, “If I’d just told him, ‘Ok, I heard your side of the story, I believe you’, and moved on, none of this would have happened.”

“But it still would have bothered you,” Nathan says.

As always, your brother hits the nail right on the head and so all you can do is agree, “Yeah, it still would have.”

In through the nose, out through the mouth, you keep telling yourself as you keep watching Exit E, waiting for Sebastian to come through the doors any minute now. His plane landed a little over thirty minutes ago, although it feels like you’ve been waiting here for hours already. You’re nervous and scared and way too emotional for this not to end with tears. In through the nose, out through the- “Oh.”

He’s wearing the same baseball cap he wore the first time you picked him up here almost two-and-a-half months ago although it feels like another lifetime. He keeps his head down as he walks towards you and if anything it makes you even more nervous. You haven’t really spoken since that phone call last week, only sent the occasional text to each other, the distance between you even more palpable with each passing day. It isn’t until he’s just a few feet away from you that he looks up and your heart, oh your heart.

You try to smile, try to say something, but the tears that have threatened to spill all day finally make their way down your cheeks and so you just to stand there, for a moment worried about what will happen next but then he holds out his arms and you step forward, holding onto him with all your might, “Oh, Seb.”

He doesn’t say anything, just holds you, his lips pressed against your temple.

You know you can’t stay here like this and so after a while you let go, running your hands over your cheeks to try and wipe some of the tears away.

“Please don’t cry.”

His voice is soft and brings on a new set of tears, “I’m sorry.”

“Come on,” he picks up his suitcase and puts it in the trunk, “‘I’ll drive.”

The drive over to your house is silent, even though you keep thinking of things you want to say but then deciding against it. You steal quick glances in his direction every now and then, a little worried by the way his jaw is set and his hands are gripping the steering wheel.

It’s early in the evening and the roads are relatively quiet, especially for a Friday, and so he pulls up onto your driveway not much later. You wait for him to get his suitcase before you make your way to the front door and inside. “Did you eat?” Your voice is a little rough and so you try again, “I could make something if you want?”

“I’m good,” he replies from somewhere over your shoulder.

You drop your purse on one of the kitchen chairs before you turn around and face him, “I would offer you a coffee but I guess we both could use something a little stronger.”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, “Listen, is it ok if I take a shower first? I’ve been in the air for the better part of the last eighteen hours and-”

“No, of course,” you nod towards the stairs, “go ahead.” You watch him as he carries his suitcase upstairs, something heavy settling inside of you.

You’re curled up in the corner of the couch when he comes back down again, his hair still a little wet and his cheeks still a little rosy, and he surprises you when he sits down next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You let out a heavy sigh, “I fucked up.”

He kisses the top of your head, a “Me too,” whispered into your hair.

You stay like that for a moment, letting him hold you, and you wonder if, like you, he’s putting off the inevitable just a little longer, because as long as the words haven’t been spoken out loud, haven’t been put out into the universe, there’s still a glimmer of hope somewhere. Still, you know you can’t stay like this forever and so after a while you reluctantly push yourself off him and hand him the glass of whiskey you poured him earlier. You raise your own glass towards him before you take a sip, the liquid burning its way down your throat. Knowing it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do you take a deep breath before you ask, “Will you let me try to explain?”

He tries to smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Talk to me.”

Cupping the whiskey glass in your hands you let your eyes fall, “Remember when we were in Los Angeles and I asked you how you deal with the paparazzi and you told me it’s just part of the job?” You don’t really wait for his reply, “For me it isn’t, Seb. And I don’t know if I can handle this the way you maybe want me to if it happens again.” You clear your throat, “I don’t know if I can get used to this.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“You told me nothing happened and I believe you,” you continue, “but- I don’t know. I hate how it made me feel.” You hold up your hand when you see he wants to say something, “That’s totally on me, I mean, that’s something I need to work on, but I don’t want it to be something I’m blaming you for, you know? And I’m afraid maybe that’s what will happen if something like this happens again and I just-” You sigh. “I don’t want you to have to reassure me every time I get insecure about our relationship.” You look up at him, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he puts his hand on yours, “it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not,” you scoff, a lone tear rolling down your cheek. “I fucked up, Seb, but I think we both know there’s no coming back from it this time.”

“Hey,” he says again, giving your hand a squeeze to make you look at him, “I don’t want you to take the blame for this, and to be honest, I think neither of us should. Put it on bad timing, or bad luck, or whatever else you can think off, but not on us.” His voice catches on the last word and you notice his eyes are a little glossed over as well. He shrugs, “Sometimes things don’t work out. No matter how much we want them to.”

“But don’t you think we should fight for this,” you try to blink away the onset of tears, “for us?” You wipe your cheeks angrily, “It feels like we’re just giving up and I-”

“We’ve been fighting for a long time,” he says then, his voice barely above a whisper.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to contradict his words, but then you allow them to sink in and you know he's right. Hell, this all started because he felt like he had to make up for what happened at the Infinity War premiere. You look up at him, a sad smile playing on your lips, “But when it was good-”

“-it was great,” he agrees, his hand now cupping your face and his thumb stroking your cheek.

You bite your lip to keep from really crying, scrunching up your nose before you whisper, “So this is it then?”

He nods slowly, “I guess it is.”

Letting out a ragged breath you get up and make your way towards the kitchen because it feels like you just got punched in the stomach and you’re about to get sick. Leaning over the kitchen sink you cry, big fat tears and heavy sobs, and it hurts, God, it hurts.

He comes up behind you not much later, his hand on the small of your back, “Come here.”

You run a hand under your nose before you stand up and when you turn around you can tell he’s been crying too and your heart hurts even more. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

He wraps you in his arms, “I’m so sorry.”

You nod against his chest because you get it, and so you mutter a quiet, “I’m sorry too.”

You offer him the guest bedroom for the night, because you both agree it’s too late for him to go somewhere else, and when you ask him to please ignore the mess you’ve made while painting, while warning him the paint is still wet and to be careful with his clothes, it feels like such a normal thing to do that it’s almost ridiculous.

It takes a long time before you fall asleep, tossing and turning in your bed, and when you finally do it’s restless, full of dreams you can’t remember but make you feel anxious nonetheless.

It’s still early when you wake up, but you can hear the shower’s already running and you guess he couldn’t sleep anymore either. You wait until you hear him go downstairs before you make your way to the bathroom, the lingering scent of his cologne triggering a fresh set of tears.

When you get downstairs after getting dressed you notice that his suitcase is already by the door and you find him leaning against the counter in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. You try to smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies. He runs his hand through his hair, “I uh- I found a flight to New York.”

“Ok.”

“There’s a cab picking me up in ten minutes,”

“Oh.” You nod, because even though it’s way too soon you know there’s no point in dragging this out either. “Ok, uh- Is there anything you need from me?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

“Can I give you one last hug?” Your voice is small and you hate how insecure you sound, but he nods anyway and so you step into his arms, wrapping yours around his waist. A sob escapes you then and he pulls you closer and you stay like that until you hear a car honk its horn outside.

“That’s me,” he says, his voice rough and barely above a whisper.

You take a step back and look up at him, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“The last four months.” A fresh set of tears cloud your eyes and you try your hardest to blink them away, “I know it’s not fair to say this but,” a sob then, “I’ll miss you.”

He nods and tries to smile, but there are tears in his eyes too. He puts his arm around your shoulder and presses his lips against your forehead before he whispers, “I’ll miss you too.”

And then he is gone.

[actingwithportals]

I hope this isn’t rude, I mean no offense whatsoever, I just want to be sure I don’t do something offensive or wrong. Ofc you don’t have to answer if you don’t want, it’s your call. Anyway, my question is, what’s a good way to write psychotic characters? I’m grateful for the list of things not to do, but I was wondering what was a good way of writing them. A way to show that they are just as human as anyone else, not just tolerated, if that makes sense. Again I’m very sorry if this is offensive

Hey! Sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this, these kinds of asks usually take me a while to build up energy to get to because I tend to be very wordy with my answers.

Your ask is totally not offensive at all! I think these kinds of questions are good to ask because it’s important to know how to accurately and positively portray characters with psychosis - or any disorder/marginalization/identity, really. For your question, I’ll try to go over some basic stuff that I think is important to include with psychotic characters, and how to portray it well and in a way that feels fleshed out and humanizing. Hopefully it hits what you are looking for!

Interacting with self:

As I’ve said in previous posts, psychosis is pretty subjective to the individual who is experiencing it, but to a degree there will be some general relatability. Something that most psychotics experience with themselves and coming to terms with having psychosis is learning acceptance or adjusting to the reality of their situation. For some this might look like finding medical ways to deal with the specific disorder they have, while for others it might hinge more on an internal acceptance of the disorder and finding validation or identity within it. Often it’ll be a little bit of both. 

A good way I think to portray this with your character is to decide where they are in that journey of acceptance - are they still struggling with this reality, are they in denial, do they feel angry or sad or scared, are they resigned to it, have they found positive aspects of their psychosis to keep themselves in good spirits, or has it become an accepted part of their identity? Decide where they are and how that might change over the course of their story, and know what factors might play a part in adjusting their perception of their situation. Do they slide back from acceptance into denial? Do they struggle with coping on some days but on others feel comfortable with their psychosis simply being a facet of themselves? Are there maybe even positive, benign symptoms they can interact with to alleviate some of the struggles they have with more difficult symptoms? 

To give an example, I like to collect plushes of my favorite video game characters, because my psychosis often causes them to feel... real, in a way, either by talking or making small noises or even glowing. It’s a positive experience I can hold onto with my auditory and visual hallucinations, and these things help me cope when the less friendly hallucinations become too “loud” to ignore. Does your character have something like that?

It isn’t necessary for a psychotic character to have experiences like this, because it’s not something that every psychotic person relates to. However, if done with care and a well-informed mindset, this (that being the general concept of a positive association with psychosis) could be a great way to show a psychotic character positively interacting with their disorder and let your audience know that psychotic people can and do live with their symptoms, and it’s not all scary all the time. Positive association can give your character agency with their disorder.

Interacting with others:

Just like how it’s important to establish where your character stands with perceiving their psychosis in relation to themselves, it’s important to establish where they stand in sharing their psychosis with others. Are they an open book about it? Do they keep that piece of themselves private? Who are the people in their lives they share this information with, and how much do they share? What are the reactions of those closest to them, and do they offer support? Was there ever stigma your character had to face from loved ones or strangers? How did they respond to possible negative reactions and how did that shape their internal perceptions of themselves and their external presentation?

Unfortunately, most psychotic people probably have at least one major negative experience with someone they chose to be open with about their psychosis. It’s a painful truth and displaying that with your character definitely can and sometimes should be shown, but I think it’s equally important and validating to show positive experiences as well. 

There are going to be plenty of people in a psychotic person’s life who respond with care and compassion, and showing those healthy relationships in fiction helps psychotic characters to not only feel more humanized, but also lets the psychotic audience know that we are valuable and lovable and our stories don’t always have to be painful. We can have friends and family who treat us like normal people after learning about our psychosis. We can and often do have at least one or two trusted friends who we can joke about symptoms with and also be vulnerable with about harder times. Showing both casual interactions and more serious care are important, as long as you are coming from a place of understanding, well-informed research, and an intention to show that at the end of the day, the character is a person, and the psychosis doesn’t change that.

Identity:

Some final notes that I’m sure I’ve mentioned in previous posts but is good to reiterate anyways, is that a psychotic person’s life doesn’t revolve around being psychotic. Yes, psychosis often does affect most aspects of a person’s life but they can think about and do things that ultimately have nothing to do with their disorder. I love video games, and origami, and astronomy, and dyeing my hair bright colors, and none of these things have anything to do with my psychosis. Make sure your character reflects that real psychotic people are multi-faceted and will engage in activities and relationships completely unrelated to their psychosis. 

There will be moments where your character - not entirely forgets, but - isn’t actively thinking about the fact that they’re psychotic, and that’s normal. I’m not a fan of “person-first language” for a lot of reasons, but ultimately we are, at the most basic level, just people. People who are psychotic. And while being psychotic affects a lot of my life, it doesn’t affect all of it, and it’s ok to have parts of my life separate from this part of my identity - this is true for any psychotic person. Your character should be more than just “a token psychotic”, but how you portray that will vary with the story you are telling and how heavily your character’s psychosis plays into their arc.

I hope this was helpful, and as always with these if any other psychotic people want to chime in, give their own thoughts, share their experiences or opinions on the subject matter, please do! We all have different experiences and relationships with our psychosis, and getting a fuller understanding of how people interact with this disorder will not only help non-psychotic people to understand us, but can also help us to understand each other.

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 18

Well it’s still a decent hour for me, but I think I failed to get this posted before @what-does-mine-say fell asleep. She’s been the real MVP of these last couple parts, too, just saying.

Anywho, no long note this time. All I have to say is thank you to everyone who continues to read and support this lil fic (that’s not so lil anymore), and I really do hope you enjoy :)

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 18/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Language; angst.

Catch up on previous parts here.

Adam spent the entire fifty-minute drive home bracing himself to face Callie. He knew she’d be upset; she had every reason and right to be upset. He’d turned her down, pushed her away, disappeared and left her to find out when she woke up, alone. It was cold, what he’d done. Heartless. And someone as warm and loving as Callie shouldn’t have to put up with it. She deserved better—better than what he could give her; better than him. And the longer he drove, the more he felt like that was all he could say to her.

His stomach twisted in knots as he turned down the road to his house. It only got worse when he pulled into his driveway and saw that Callie’s car was gone.

He put the gearshift in park and cut the ignition, but he didn’t get out of the truck. He sat there in silence, staring at the spot that Callie’s car usually occupied. He had a sinking feeling that she hadn’t just run around the corner or gone for a drive herself. This felt like a more permanent absence.

He got out of the truck and walked to the front door. It was locked. He fumbled with his keys to get it open. When he stepped inside, he found a note waiting for him on the kitchen island.

He could guess what it said before he read it.

              I decided to head to Florida early and stay with Britt for a while. You need space to figure out what’s going on in your head and in your heart. It breaks my heart to write this… but we can’t go on the way we have been. I hope you’ll figure it out soon. I’ll miss you. I love you. x Callie.

Adam read the note over and over, until the words started to warp and blend together. There was a crinkled spot on the paper from where a tear had fallen as she wrote. He set it back down on the island, numb. It had to be a ten-hour drive to where Britt and Adam Cole lived outside Orlando. If Callie would rather take on that than face him, Adam had a feeling she wouldn’t be coming back. She was gone.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Imagine that it’s Tag Team Appreciation Night, and the number two ranked tag team in all of AEW doesn’t have a match, not even on Dark. Oh wait—we don’t have to imagine it, because we’re fucking living it!”

Alex frowned across the locker room at Chuck. She didn’t blame him for being upset; she was upset for him. Outside the Young Bucks, Best Friends were the most established tag team on the roster—and yet, they’d been completely left out of this so-called “Tag Team Appreciation Night” that FTR was hosting on Dynamite that night. It was a slap across the face. And, in the back of her mind, Alex couldn’t help but wonder if her situation with Cash was to blame for why Chuck and Trent had been excluded.

“They’re not even gonna interview us about who our favorite tag team is,” Trent lowly said. “They interviewed Kenny and Hangman.”

“Of course they did,” Chuck said with a roll of his eyes. “No offense, Alex,” he added.

Her eyebrows arched. “Why would I be offended?” she quickly asked—maybe a little too quickly. She’d been paranoid ever since Saturday that Chuck somehow knew what she’d done with Kenny on his balcony. Granted, she absolutely would have heard it by now if he did… but still. Just the thought of him ever finding out made her want to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.

He gave her an odd look. “Because Adam’s your friend. And Kenny’s… whatever.”

Alex swallowed. That answer didn’t help her paranoia. “Oh. Well, none taken. I don’t blame you for being upset.” She looked sheepishly down at the floor. “I wish there was something I could do about it.”

“It’s not your fault, Alex,” Trent assured. “They’re just trying to hold us down because they know we’re better than them.”

A corner of Alex’s mouth turned up. But she didn’t know if it was sweet or just pathetic that Trent knew she needed to hear that they didn’t blame her. “I’m gonna go to catering,” she said as she stood from her seat. Another thing she needed was coffee—and probably a chocolate chip cookie or two. “Does anyone want anything?”

Trent and Chuck both shook their heads no; James didn’t even respond from where he sat on the couch, leaned back with his arms spread out, one ankle crossed over his knee. It looked like he was asleep. He had a match against Chris Jericho that night and he was completely unbothered. Alex only wished she could be so carefree.

She pushed her way out of the locker room and pulled her phone from her pocket, her thoughts turning to other things. She hadn’t heard from Callie in days, not since she’d tried to text her when she was in Philadelphia; since she’d left her on read Saturday morning. It was obvious something was wrong—she just wasn’t sure what. Adam hadn’t really talked to her since Saturday, either. And Alex didn’t know if she should ask or just mind her own business.

Catering was just around the corner now. She turned it and slowed to a stop. Dax and Cash were right in front of her. Her eyes met Cash’s. Her heart jumped into her mouth.

“Alex,” he said. He looked just as unprepared to see her as she felt to see him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she returned. She flashed back to the middle of the night in Philadelphia, to the balcony underneath the moonlight. Guilt gripped her so tight that she struggled to breathe.

Dax looked awkwardly between them. “Okay. Well, I’ll let y’all catch up.” He made a hasty exit. Cash watched after him as he disappeared into catering. Alex couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with him for bailing or not.

She awkwardly cleared her throat before the silence could drown them. “Um, how are you?”

He let out a wry laugh. “I didn’t hear from you all week, Alex.”

His tone implied a follow-up statement: How do you think I feel? She knew the answer: hurt, forgotten, cast aside. But she felt all those things, too. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me,” she said.

His brow puckered. “What? All I wanted was to hear from you.”

That surprised her. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because—” he cut himself off with a frustrated huff. “You need to figure out what you want, Alex. Not me. And the fact that I haven’t heard from you at all… it feels like you’ve made your decision.”

Alex’s eyes burned and her stomach turned. She could almost feel the hot summer air on her skin, hear Kenny’s voice in her ear. Her actions that night spoke louder than her silence. But she’d been drunk and emotional. She’d given in because she was hurt that she hadn’t heard from Cash. Right?

He let out a sigh and moved closer. She didn’t expect it when he reached out and took her hand in his. Her skin tingled at his touch. “I want us to talk, sweetheart. But not here. Maybe we could go somewhere after the show? I know you have a Dark match, but—”

“Wait, what?” she cut him off, suddenly confused. “I don’t have a Dark match.”

He gave her an odd look. “I just saw it on the card; you have a match against Anna Jay. Did no one tell you?”

Alex bit down on her jaw, frustration bubbling up inside her. No, no one had told her. And she had a feeling she’d been left in the dark on purpose.

She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said, and she pulled her hand from his and marched toward production. Her anger built with every step she took. It was near boiling-point by the time she found the match card taped to the wall. There it was, printed on the paper as clear as day: Alex Hawthorne vs. Anna Jay, slotted as the second match after the end of Dynamite.

She ripped the paper from the wall, crinkling it in her clutched fist as she marched back out of production and through the halls of the arena. She knew exactly who was responsible for this, and he had another thing coming if he thought she’d just lay down and take it.

She arrived at the EVP room and knocked hard and fast on the door. Someone called, “Come in”; she barged in before they even finished. Adam, the Bucks, and Brandon Cutler stared up at her, matching looks of wide-eyed surprise on their faces. Alex walked right up to Matt Jackson and slapped the paper down on the table in front of him.

“What the hell is this?”

The entire room went still. Matt’s eyebrows arched, obviously stunned by her nerve. He glanced down at the paper. “Well, it looks like the match card. Did you take that off the wall?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And when were you planning on telling me that I have a Dark match against Anna Jay?”

“Oh.” He looked her right in the eye and said, “You have a Dark match against Anna Jay.”

Alex’s other hand curled into a fist at her side. She could have hit him she was so angry. Knocked that indignant look right off his stupid face—

“Alex,” Adam stood and put a hand on the small of her back, trying to diffuse the situation, but she ignored him.

“Is this about Cash?” she charged. “Are you punishing me for what he did?”

Matt’s brow lowered. “I didn’t realize giving you a match was punishment.”

She gaped back at him. “I didn’t know I had it until two fucking minutes ago!”

“Alright, come on.” Adam took her gently by the arm and whisked her out of the room. Alex let him lead her down the hall and around a corner into a private corridor. She started to shake as she leaned back against the wall. Adam gripped her shoulders.

“Take a deep breath,” he said.

She took his advice, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Her anger started to give way to embarrassment and shame. Had she really just done that?

“That was ballsy,” Adam commented. She breathed out a rueful laugh. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Alex tilted her head back against the wall as she looked up at him. She was tired of everyone asking her that. She was just tired all around. And that was exactly what she told him.

“I’m tired,” she breathed. “I’m tired of feeling like everything is falling apart around me. I’m tired of doubting myself and feeling like I have no control over anything. I’m tired of trying to do the right thing just to have it backfire in my fucking face.”

Her voice cracked, and Adam pulled her into him. She looped her arms under his and buried her face in his shoulder, drawing in another deep breath. She didn’t want to cry. She was tired of crying, too.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Adam said. “More than you realize.”

Alex pulled back and looked up at him. That was her opening to figure out what was up with him and Callie. “Why?” she asked. “What’s going on with you and Callie? She hasn’t said a word to me since she tried to text me when I was in Philly.”

Adam let her go. His arms fell to his sides as he took a step back. It looked like the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders. But she couldn’t have predicted what he said next.

“Yeah, you and me both. She left.”  

“What?” Instinctively, Alex reached out and clutched one of his hands in both of hers. “What do you mean, she left?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he returned. “When I got back from driving to your place, I found a note in the kitchen. She’d just gone.”

Alex squeezed his hand. “What did it say?”

He shifted, avoiding her gaze, but he didn’t let go of her grip. “That I need to figure out what I’m feeling. That she’s gonna stay with Britt for a while.”

His eyes finally met hers, and she swore she felt every emotion coursing through him herself. She’d already felt all of it, for days now. Pain. Guilt. Hopelessness. They were stranded in the same fucking boat, up shit creek without a paddle. But even though misery loved company, Alex didn’t want Adam to be stuck there with her. She’d push him out and make him swim if she had to. She wanted him to be happy.

“I’m so sorry, Adam.” She reached up and pulled him into a tight hug. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“I wanted to,” he said into her shoulder. “But you’re dealing with your own shit. I didn’t want to bother you with mine.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered me,” she assured. He hugged her tighter. She did the same. “She hasn’t said anything to you since she left?”

“No,” he said. “I haven’t even seen her today. I don’t even know if she’s here.”

The resignation in his voice broke Alex’s heart. But before she could think of anything to say in return, he flipped the conversation on her.

“What about you? Have you talked to Cash?”

She pulled back and unwound her arms with a heavy sigh. It was only fair that she fill him in on her shit, too. “I ran into him before I burst in on you guys. But no.” She chewed on the inside of her mouth. “I think he wants to talk after the show.”

“Well, that’s good,” Adam offered, hopefully. “Right?”

She looked away, down the hall. “I honestly don’t know.” She thought back to the look on Cash’s face, to how he’d taken her hand and called her “sweetheart.” But she shook her head, snapping herself back to the present before her overthinking could carry her away. “Right now I just need focus on getting through this fucking match I just found out about.”

“You’ll be fine,” Adam said. “Just don’t let Anna or any of the other Dark Order freaks get in your head.”

His eyes turned dark; introspective. Alex frowned. It seemed like he was speaking from experience. But it wouldn’t benefit either of them to go there right now. “You’re defending the tag titles tonight, right?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, against Jurassic Express. I need to focus on getting through that fucking match. Although Kenny seems to be in a better mood this week, so that helps.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed when she heard that. “Oh? I haven’t seen him.” She and Kenny had talked since Philly—of course they had. But if Adam wondered if she had anything to do with his tag team partner’s improved mood, he thankfully didn’t ask.

“I guess I should get back in there,” he said. “We were going over some stuff for BTE when you burst in and bit Matt’s head off.”

“Jesus.” Alex pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m probably gonna pay for that, aren’t I?”

But, surprisingly, Adam waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Just focus on winning your match. And not joining a cult.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. It was small, but it was nice to see him smile; hear him joke. They needed to do more of that, like they used to. “I don’t know,” Alex returned with a sarcastic laugh. “Joining a cult might be a nice change of pace at this point.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Dynamite wasn’t over yet, but FTR wasn’t sticking around for the rest of the show. They’d done what they’d set out to do with Tag Team Appreciation Night: prove that they were the best tag team in the business. It wasn’t their fault that Rock ‘N’ Roll Express had gotten in the way. Those old-timers should have hung it up a long time ago, anyway.

They burst back into their dressing room to grab their things and get the hell out of dodge. As Cash waited for Dax to finish packing up, he pulled his phone from his pocket and looked down at the lock screen. He still hadn’t changed the background; it was a picture of him and Alex from the night they’d gone out with Adam and Callie, at that fancy restaurant downtown. She smiled wide at the camera as he held her close, his arms tight around her waist, his face nuzzled against her cheek. That night had only been two weeks ago. But it felt like a lifetime.

“Hey.” Dax got his attention and he looked back up. He nudged his chin at his phone, at the photo on the screen. “You sure you don’t want to stay for her match?”

Cash looked back down at the picture. The screen went dark. “Yeah,” he returned. “She can find me if she wants to see me.”

He pushed the phone back into his pocket. And then he grabbed his bag, and he and Dax left the arena.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Smack!

Alex saw stars and fell backward to the mat, stunned by the unexpected bicycle kick from Anna Jay. She covered her and hooked her leg. It was only on instinct that Alex was able to kick out. Her head hadn’t been in the match from the moment it had started.

She knew Cash had left. She’d gone to talk to him after the melee in the ring with the Young Bucks and Rock ‘N’ Roll Express only to find FTR’s dressing room empty. It cut deep that he’d just up and gone without so much as a text, especially after claiming that he wanted to talk. It made her wonder if he’d really meant it.

But Alex had no choice but to focus on Anna when she climbed on top of her and started choking her.

The ref counted as she struggled to breathe, clutching at Anna’s wrists. “1! 2! 3! Come on, Anna, let her go!”

Anna let out a sadistic chuckle as she released her. Alex had barely managed to gulp in a breath of air before Anna pulled her up by her hair and threw her hard into a turnbuckle. She let out a cry and charged; but Alex threw up an elbow, hitting her in the jaw and stunning her. She climbed to the top rope as quickly as she could. When Anna stumbled back around to face her, Alex launched herself into the air and hit her with a missile dropkick.

She scrambled to cover her; Anna kicked out at two. Alex clutched her throat as she glared at Anna.

That crazy cult bitch had choked her.

That crazy cult bitch had made a terrible mistake.

Alex grabbed a fistful of Anna’s long blonde hair and sat her up. She didn’t let go of it as she kicked her hard in the back with a resounding whack that made the people watching in the audience wince. Anna arched her back, bending her knees and fingers in pain, and Alex ran toward the opposite ropes, rebounded off, and nailed her in the jaw with a running knee. She sat on top of her and hooked her leg. She kicked out and powered her shoulder up at the last possible second, sending Alex tumbling off of her. She stared at the ref in disbelief. “It was two,” he confirmed, holding up two fingers. She bit down on her jaw in frustration.

Alex pulled Anna to her feet. She grabbed her forearm, pushed her back to the ropes opposite the ring entrance, and Irish-whipped her to the other side. Anna rebounded and Alex ran toward her—but someone caught her eye as they appeared on the entrance ramp and she stumbled, rolling her left ankle. She managed to lift her right knee at the last second and hit Anna in the gut, sending her flipping to the mat, but Alex fell with her. He ankle throbbed as she looked back at the ramp. Brodie Lee, Evil Uno, and Stu Grayson stood in a line. Watching.

Alex knew she needed to act fast. She crawled over to Anna and locked on her finishing submission maneuver, the ’88 Sleeper. Her ankle screamed in protest as she put weight on it, but she channeled the pain into wrenching Anna back harder. It wasn’t long before she tapped.

The ref called for the bell. Alex threw Anna aside and fell back onto the mat. She reached for her left boot, fumbling to undo the laces and loosen the pressure on her ankle; but she stopped when a pair of brown dress shoes appeared in front of her. She looked up, and up, until her eyes connected with the cold, dark stare of Mr. Brodie Lee.

He grinned down at her. “Hello, Alex.”

She froze. Grayson and Uno flanked his either side. She was surrounded.

“That’s a helluva submission you have there,” Brodie complimented. “Granted, I’m not happy Anna lost…” he cast a glance at Anna Jay, who laid still clutching her back on the mat. “But you impressed me.”

He held out his hand. People throughout the arena shouted and booed, but Alex didn’t hear any of them; Brodie’s eyes were arresting. Haunting. Inviting. She didn’t even realize that she’d reached up and slid her hand into his until he gripped it and pulled her to her feet. Her ankle smarted and she stumbled; Brodie put his other hand on her waist to steady her, and Alex grabbed his arm. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. They were so dark that she almost couldn’t tell the pupil from the iris. Two black bottomless pools. She wanted to jump in and see how far she’d sink—

“Alex!”

Someone wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from Brodie, breaking the spell. Chuck. Trent and Adam were with him. They stood between her and Dark Order like a barricade.

“Keep moving, pal,” Trent warned. “She’s not available.”

Brodie let out a laugh, slow and deep in his chest. He looked back at Alex. “Do they think they own you?”

Adam shoved him then. “Get the hell out of here before I make you.”

Grayson took a threatening step forward; but Brodie held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t bother,” he said. “The inner demons will take care of this one.”

Adam bit down on his jaw; but Trent put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not worth it, let’s just get Alex out of here.”

Alex’s eyes stayed glued on Brodie as Chuck helped her hobble to the ropes; Trent held them open so she could gingerly duck through. When she was on the other side, her gaze connected with Brodie’s again. He smirked.

“Think about it, Alex.”

It wasn’t until Chuck draped her arm over his shoulders and turned her away that she was able to pull her eyes from his.

“Can you put weight on it?” Chuck asked as they started to walk.

Alex winced, but nodded. “Yeah, but it hurts.”

“It’s probably just a sprain, then.”

He helped her through the tunnel into the back. Trent and Adam were close behind. “Jesus, Alex, I thought I told you to focus on not joining a cult tonight,” Adam quipped—but Alex didn’t hear him. Kenny had just run into Gorilla.

“Alex!” He hurried toward her, worry etched on his face. “Are you alright? What happened out there?”

Alex didn’t answer; she couldn’t. She was too overcome with emotion at just the sight of him. Cash had left—but Kenny was still here.

She removed her arm from around Chuck and limped over to him. She practically fell into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed as he hugged her. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I got distracted when Dark Order came out and I stepped wrong and rolled it. And then Brodie was suddenly there and—”

“It’s okay, forget about him,” he gently returned. “Come on, let’s get you to the trainer.”

He took her by the waist and helped her out of Gorilla and down the hall toward the trainer’s room. And as they walked, Alex couldn’t help but think, over and over: Cash left, but Kenny’s still here.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had left Daily’s Place right after the tag title match. She’d wanted to stay and watch Adam; she was happy that he and Kenny had retained the titles against Jurassic Express. But after that, she caught an Uber back to the hotel. Even though she’d wanted to see Adam wrestle, she still didn’t want to talk to him.

Besides, she needed some time to herself. While she was beyond grateful to Britt and Adam Cole for letting her stay with them, Britt had been, for lack of a better term, smothering her ever since she’d arrived at their house late Saturday evening. And because she and Britt were sharing a hotel room, too, she decided to take the opportunity while the doctor was still at the arena to grab some dinner and air to breathe.

She pushed the down button for the elevator. When it arrived several seconds later and the doors slid open, she was surprised and confused to see Cash standing inside.

“Hey.” His eyebrows arched, obviously surprised to see her, too. “What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Callie said as she stepped onto the elevator. She pressed the button for the lobby. “Aren’t you supposed to be hosting Tag Team Appreciation Night right now?”

He laughed lightly to himself. “Dax and I did what we needed to do and then left. I’ll just put it that way.”

Callie arched a curious brow, wondering what exactly he meant by that. But before she could ask, he asked her, “Why aren’t you back at the arena with Adam?”

The elevator arrived at the lobby with a ding. Callie drew in a deep breath as the doors slid open and she and Cash stepped out. She was both surprised and not that he didn’t know what was going on with her and Adam. But he’d find out eventually—the entire locker room would—so she might as well take the opportunity to tell him herself.

“Actually, Adam and I are kind of on a break right now.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her, his brow furrowed in confusion and disbelief. “What? Are you serious?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He doesn’t want to talk to me about anything anymore, so I left him a note and drove down to Britt’s Saturday morning. And… yeah. We haven’t spoken since.”

It didn’t hurt as much to tell him as Callie had expected it would. After four days of no contact with Adam, she’d resigned herself to the situation. She’d tried to help him. But only he could help himself now.

“Shit,” Cash breathed. He ran a hand through his hair, still obviously thrown off by the news. “I had no idea. I mean, Adam did seem pretty distracted tonight, but that’s honestly not that unusual.”

“Exactly,” Callie returned, more firmly than she intended.

Cash’s brow puckered in sympathy. He looked down at his phone, as if considering something. “Well, I don’t know where you were heading; I was just gonna go to the bar to get a drink,” he said as he pointed a thumb in the direction of the hotel bar. “But I could eat, if you want to go grab something. Misery loves company, right?”

Callie blinked, surprised at the offer. But then she realized: if anyone could relate to what she was going through right now, it was Cash.

She nodded. “Sure. But I get to pick the place.”

* * * * * * * * * *

They ended up walking to a bar and restaurant not that far from the hotel. It was a nice night, and they opted for a table outside on the patio. It was tucked away in the corner; intimate. The hostess had probably assumed they were on a date. Callie had been grateful when her cocktail arrived.

“So, if misery loves company then I guess that means you and Alex still haven’t worked it out?” she asked as she grabbed her straw and took a long sip. The drink was already halfway gone and their food hadn’t arrived yet.

Cash reached for his beer, shaking his head. “No. Back at the arena I told her I wanted to talk with her after the show, but she freaked out about her Dark match and ran off without saying anything.” He took a sip, swallowed it down. “The ball’s in her court. She knows how to find me if she wants to talk.”

Callie frowned. The part of her that had come to value Alex’s friendship wanted to know how she was feeling about all this, what she was thinking. But the jealous part of her still resented that Adam seemed so willing to open up to Alex instead of her. “Kenny practically bragged about what happened,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and gave a sarcastic laugh. “Of course he did. You know, after the first fight with Kenny, I admitted to Alex that I was worried he could steal her back. I wish I’d been wrong.”

His forearm flexed as he gripped his beer glass in frustration. Callie’s brow furrowed. “You think she’s gone back to him?”

Cash shook his head again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Sometimes I feel like I made a mistake telling her to choose. But I can’t be with someone who obviously has feelings for someone else.”

Callie reached for her straw again. And before she could stop herself, she muttered, “That’s how I feel about Adam.”

The comment obviously took Cash by surprise. “You think Adam has feelings for someone else?”

Callie bit her lip. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she thought Adam had feelings for Alex. So she danced around it. “I practically offered myself to him on a plate the other night, and he literally pushed me away to get another drink. So that really helped with my self-esteem. I don’t know; I guess there’s someone else he’d rather see in skimpy lingerie.”

Her cheeks suddenly burned, realizing what she’d said. She needed to slow down on the alcohol. But when she glanced at Cash and saw the look on his face, she wanted to down the rest of her drink in a single gulp.

“What?” she asked.

Cash laughed to himself as he shook his head. “Nothing. Just something’s wrong with him if he turned you down.”

Callie’s face flushed again. The waiter couldn’t have arrived with their appetizer at a better moment. She pointed to her drink as he set the dish on the table. “Can I go ahead and order another?”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Why didn’t you go get dinner with Kenny and the Bucks?”

Alex took a sip of her water as she sat next to Adam at the hotel bar. Filming had wrapped not that long ago, and while Alex had come back to the hotel with the boys, Kenny had gone with Matt and Nick to grab a late dinner. Alex had hoped that maybe—maybe—Adam would go with them; but her hopes had been dashed when he’d texted her asking if she wanted to get a drink. She’d agreed to meet him, but she didn’t feel like drinking tonight.

“Please,” Adam scoffed. “They didn’t ask me.” He swirled his whiskey and took a sip. He gave her a sarcastic look as he set the glass back down. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

She pursed her lips. “Really?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You two seemed pretty cozy when he took you to the trainer after your match.”

Alex’s cheeks burned and she shifted in her seat. Kenny had stayed with her in the trainer’s room the entire time, holding her hand as it was determined that she’d—thankfully—only suffered a bad sprain. She’d be out of action for two-to-four weeks, but it could have been a lot worse. Afterward, he’d kissed her and told her he was glad she was alright. She hadn’t said anything, choosing instead to kiss him back deeper. But she didn’t have to tell Adam that.

“He was there for me,” she said. “And I appreciated it.”

“Didn’t you say Cash wanted to talk to you after the show?”

Alex blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden interrogation. “Yeah, but he left the arena after he and Dax attacked Ricky Morton and didn’t even say anything to me.”

His eyes hardened when she said that. “I can’t believe they fucking did that.”

Alex frowned. “I know,” she agreed. But she didn’t want to go down that road, so she took another sip of water and changed the subject. “Have you talked to Callie?”

Adam shook his head. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I want to.” He downed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass on the bar. He glanced at her as he signaled the bartender for another drink. “You sure you don’t want a drink?”

Alex put a hand on his arm. The muscle tensed underneath her touch. “Adam,” she said, urging him to look at her. But he kept his eyes fixed on the empty glass in front of him. “Don’t throw out what you have with Callie.”  

The bartender swapped out the empty glass for a full one, but Adam didn’t reach for it. He looked down at her hand on his bicep. He reached across and placed his hand on top of hers. “Alex…”

But Alex’s attention was suddenly drawn to the lobby. “What the fuck?”

Adam’s brow furrowed and he turned to look where she stared. Callie and Cash crossed through the lobby—and judging from the carefree looks on their faces, they’d been drinking. Adam and Alex watched as Cash put his hand on Callie’s back, and then they disappeared out of sight toward the elevators.

Adam turned around to face forward again, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “What the fuck,” he repeated. He grabbed his whiskey and took a long drink.

Alex laughed wryly to herself. She wanted to believe it wasn’t what they thought it was. But she didn’t know what to believe anymore. “Yeah… I’ll take that drink now.”

[pastelninjaimagines]

B, F, K, L, X for the founder trio? 💕

 Hashirama

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He really loves your pretty smile, and the way your eyes light up when you see something you like or when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about. He loves how happy your face gets and that endearing sparkle to your eyes. He’s just so taken by your eyes (no matter the color) bc it’s the most expressive part of you, “the gateway to your soul” as he puts it. He could stare into your eyes for hours and be the happiest man on earth. 

He truly admires your enthusiasm and your passion for life. He loves that you’re just a genuinely happy person bc you both just enjoy life’s joys with one another. 

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He hatesss fighting with you, like it really kills him inside. He tries to do everything in his power to keep you from being angry at him, whether it’s through jokes or kind gestures. He’ll try to make whatever it is right, say extremely smooth things. Basically you can never stay mad at him for long. However when he gets angry, it’s a pretty scary thing and you know to avoid his path. Though he calms down pretty quickly. This man just hates fights with you, he wants tranquility and happiness, and for that, he’s pretty accommodating. 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

The god of kissing. Like my god his lips make you swoon like nothing else. He takes your breath away, literally. His lips are incredibly soft too, so it’s incredibly enjoyable and comfortable. He can literally kiss you for hours. Pls kiss this man’s ears, it’ll drive him literally insane and ravage you with even more kisses. Super big on kissing the palms of your hands. Honestly, just loves kissing you anywhere and everywhere. Completely unabashed kissing you in public too. 

You and him were having a rock skipping competition. And the bet was whoever could skip the rocks farther got to request one thing of the other. Hashirama won (ofc) and he turned to you, an uncharacteristically smug expression on his face, and gestured for you to come closer. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “As the victor, I have one request.” He placed a finger under your chin and tilted your lips towards his. It only lasted a few moments, but he was grinning from ear to ear when your lips parted. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Incredibly nonchalant about it. You felt a bit blindsided by his confession only bc he’s flirtatious and kind to everyone, not just you. So you never expected to be the object of Hashirama’s affection. Of course you’d fantasized about the man, bc who wouldn’t? But you never imagined that he felt this way about you. You occasionally accompanied him on walks he likes to take to decompress and emerge himself in nature, when he threw his arm around you and said, “You know, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for a long time. You mesmerize me, y/n.” This accompanied by the wink he gives you just obliterates you on the spot. You’re just a gushy mess as he asks you to be his. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

The king of cuddles. Like you can’t pry this man off you. He’s always touching you in some way whether you’re in public or in private, his hands are always on you. When you’re in public it’s normally his arm around your waste or he’s holding your hand. In private he’s all over you. He loves nuzzling his head to your neck, loves burying his nose in your hair. loves picking you up in a big hug and swinging you around. He lovessss nose kisses, forehead kisses. All kisses are good kisses. Shower him in kisses, he’ll shower you in kisses. It’s a never-ending affection train with Hashi. 

Tobirama 

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Already answered here

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He’s incredibly cold when he fights. Will give you the silent treatment. And he’s good at it too. won’t talk at all. Not even pleasantries. If he’s not talking to you he means it. It has to be a serious fight to get to that point too and that means you’re both on complete opposite spectrums of things or one of you majority messes up. Sometimes giving you the silent treatment is Tobi’s way of punishing himself if the fight is bc of him and he knows it. 

Your more petty fights, he’ll have a very sharp tongue and be very cold and logical. Not much rage or emotion goes into his arguments with you. And if you get emotional, he’ll walk away telling you to come around when you’ve stopped having a childish tantrum. He’s not dealing with you crying or yelling, he’ll tell you to take it up with someone else. Develop thick skin to deal with arguing with him bc it’s not pretty. He will apologize if he really hurts your feelings undeservedly, but it’s just a simple sorry without much fanfare. 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He gets good after a while into the relationship. At first he’s incredibly hesitant with his kisses, but after a while, he learns exactly what works and what doesn’t. He’s a little cold, preferring little pecks here and there. But when he actually deems to make out with you it does drive you wild bc he’s very skilled with that tongue. 

Your first kiss was late at night. You were helping him with his research, pouring over scrolls. You moved to show him something when he put his hand on yours. He silenced your words with his lips, just a simple peck, fleeting, but when he pulled his lips away, he had a little smile and said, “You don’t know how long I’d been waiting to do that.” And then he gets back to work like nothing happened while you’re at a loss for words. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Tobirama never truly confesses per say. He kind of just assumes that you understand his feelings for him in the beginning of your relationship. He treats you completely differently than everyone else and it’s very obvious. He’s softer around you, concerned after your health, your well being. He looks after you, is more lenient with you. And of course, the way he looks at you, the way he smiles often in your presence. It’s incredibly obvious that he has feelings for you. Him confessing is him getting more physically intimate with you. His hugs, when he kisses you. It’s just something that’s understood. You’re the only person he’s doing those things with you. Months after you’re actually in a relationship you’ll be like, “Are we officially together, or…?” He’ll give you a scathing look and say, “You’re kidding, right?” You have to laugh bc you knew that was exactly what he’d say. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Already answered here 

Madara 

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

So he’s a sucker for your lips. He loves the little flush of pink they have, and how they’re always parted when you’re absorbed in whatever he’s saying. He loves how plush and soft they are, and how pretty you look when you say his name. 

He admires the fact that you actually put up with him and how patient you are. You have the patients of a saint. You take your time with him, listen to his endless rants with a sympathetic ear. You understand him. At times it feels like you’re the only one who can. And he loves you and admires you for it. To Madara he sees things as that it’s you and him versus the world and he loves you for it. 

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Fighting with Madara is like the unstoppable force meets an immovable object meme. He is stubborn. He will not admit when he’s wrong. And he will outlast you. He refuses to speak with you no matter how long it takes for you to either apologize or admit that you were wrong bc he certainly won’t. And if you try to argue your case he will get nasty. He’ll twist your words, say harsh things, he’s not above fighting dirty. Unfortunately when either of you are mad about something, it’s easier for you to just yes him to death bc he won’t quit until he feels like he’s completely in the right. And Madara’s petty as hell, so watch him get mad over stupid shit that means nothing and have you explain yourself to him bc he misinterpreted an offhand comment of yours that he hella took offense to. He just gets upset sometimes and you can’t figure it out, his ego’s kind of fragile when it comes to you. So you’ve gotta placate him a lot. Arguing is never good, avoid it when possible, bc while he will apologize if he realizes he’s said something that’s taking it really too far, he is brutal and will tear you down to win an argument. 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Yessss he’s amazing. He’s a little aggressive. Loves to bite your lip and the dominant one with how you’re kissing. He’s always gotta be in charge and leading your little dance. Also kissing you down your neck is his favorite thing ever, giving little bites here and there just to hear you gasp. It drives him crazzzyyy. 

Your first kiss was after a battle. He found you and in the heat of the moment grabbed hold of you without saying a word, still on an adrenaline high, and kissed you hard on the lips. You were too frazzled to process, but he noticed how you kissed him back. He apologized afterwards for being so abrupt, but it came off as such an offhand comment that you knew he fully meant it.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Oof him confessing is a little awkward. He wants to get you alone so he takes the pressure off himself having a potential audience. So that might take some doing. He’s busy, your busy, he also doesn’t wanna blow his intentions right off the bat. So he’ll make some really shitty excuse to get you alone like “I need some help with something. Come over later tonight.” Super cryptic. Won’t give you any further information no matter how much you pester.  

But once he gets you alone, he’ll come right out with it. No fanfare just say, “For a long time I’ve had feelings for you. I hope you feel the same.”

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Madara is only affection when he wants to be. He’s very much like a cat. When he wants attention he’ll be all up in your space, but if he doesn’t want it, he’ll be a prickly and tell you to leave him alone. And you better leave him alone or you’ll receive a death glare you wish you hadn’t. 

He’ll really only be lovey dovey in private. He’ll want you on his lap to give you little kisses and hold you close when you’re all alone, preferably in your home. One of his favorite things is to rest his chin on top of your head while he’s holding you. He also loves when you play with his hair while cuddling. Like yes please fix his tangled mess of hair bc he sure as hell won’t

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting It Back Together Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

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Hunched over his desk, Adam scowled at the blank staff on the music composition page before him. In his mind he could hear the notes that he had composed two nights ago but when he tried to concentrate and write them down they refused to stay clear in his brain. Twice already he had crumpled up the dried out old paper and hurled it across the room. Now, after his pen scratched through another mistake, he swept the entire pile of paper off the desk.

Leaning back in his wingchair, he glared across the room. It was all the fault of that thing. There against the wall, clashing with his dark hued room, sat a garishly bright neon yellow tool bag. It was not just that it was an eye sore, though that was bad enough. Really, who in their right mind would purchase anything so hideous? It was the knowledge that it belonged to her. That horrid, sobbing girl who had cried all over him last night.

Adam suppressed a shiver as he remembered it. She had clung to him like a python, face buried in his chest has he flailed to find a way to calm her. He had been so startled by the way she melted into him he had not known what to do. He was no longer, he realized, used to experiencing any form of physical contact.

She was tiny. That had been his first, irrelevant observation. Her watery face had only come up to the middle of his chest. She was also surprisingly warm. Holding her felt so different, so very different than holding Eve had felt. His late wife had been nearly as tall as he was, and like him she lacked the blood pumping through her veins to warm her in the night air.

Blood. That was the next, unshakable realization. She was full of throbbing, pulsing blood. Adam could sense it coursing through her, adding a flush to her face and a beat to the chest pressed against his stomach. With her hair piled as it was on top of her head he could see clearly the blue tinted vein running down her long neck. Staring at it, he felt his animal side begin to stir within him.

It had been ten years since Adam had eaten from a living person. On that desperate night in Tangier it had been a matter of life or death, him or the young woman unfortunate enough to cross his path when he was literally starving. He had turned the girl, and Eve had done the same to her lover. They had given them immortality, curse or gift depending on your mindset. In the end, it hadn't mattered. Both of them had died along with Eve when tainted blood had been sold to them. Adam would have been dead too, had he not been out scouring a rare bookshop for a gift for his beloved.

Years later, the proximity of a carotid artery, just there for the taking, caused a physical sensations within him. Adam could feel his fangs fighting to descend. Alarmingly, he could also feel his cock hardening in his jeans. Live feeding was not the only thing he had gone without for years. The small woman in his arms, so helpless and so unaware of her peril, was all but begging to be devoured in all sorts of ways. He could imagine tearing away her clothes and sinking into her, first his cock then his fangs, as he satisfied his cravings upon her unsuspecting body. Had Adam been other than what he was, had he not had all of those centuries with Eve to civilize him, she would have been done for.

Instead, he had clumsily patted her on the back, eyes rolling in his head as he did so. He could not quite bring himself to mouth the platitudes he knew she would expect of him, but he did his best to bite back the sarcasm that was his defensive habit. She had lost someone herself, and while the pain of losing someone known only for one short lifetime could never compare to the loss he had suffered, it still touched a chord within him. He knew the deep, unending pain of love taken too soon.

When at last she had managed to breath regularly again, Adam had quickly walked her back to the hatch that led to her own home. She had uttered a ceaseless string of apologies that he neither wanted nor needed, and he had mumbled something inane in return, sounding for all the world like just another zombie. The relief he felt when he shut the hatch behind her had almost brought him to his knees. And yet...

She had been so very warm. So warm and so alive. Irritating and encroaching, yes, but her questions about his electric system had been intelligent, and her observations startlingly apt. He was used to zombies being disinterested, focused so inward on their own petty problems that they didn't see what was right in front of their faces.

Her face had been pretty, the thought ran through his head. A little older than he had expected at first, though they all seemed young to him. Big eyes, full lips, high, almost elfin cheekbones.

With a growl, Adam stood up and stalked over to the offensive yellow tool bag. He should have left it up on the roof. She would have realized it was missing eventually and gone back up for it. But the skies had looked threatening, and he didn't want her tools to rust. It was a matter of conservation, he assured himself. Not wanting to do something nice for a zombie. Certainly not that.

He obviously was not going to be able to concentrate with the hideous thing in his home. He would take it back over to her. The home she lived in had a double style doorway; if he was lucky the outer door would be open and he could leave it between them. No need to see her again. The last thing he needed was to be dragged into another encounter with her.

Pulling his leather jacket on without bothering with a shirt, Adam grabbed the tool bag and headed for his front door. Best to get this over with. Yanking open the door in his rush, he collided with something soft and with a shock watched the very person he had been hoping to avoid fall backwards off of his front stoop.

"Fuck!" she yelped, as she toppled down.

Adam blinked as she looked up at him from the ground where she sat inelegantly on her ass.

"Are you alright?" he asked as sense returned to him.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she smiled unconvincingly at him. "Luckily I don't have too far to fall."

"I was going out and didn't expect you to be there," he mumbled.

He heard the accusation in his voice, but didn't seem to be able to help it. What the hell had she been doing there?

"Of course not," she blushed. "Um... would you mind?"

She held out her hand and Adam gasped. Her palm was scratched from breaking her fall, and a small pattern of blood was beading up on the skin. Instinctively he took a step back at the same time his head moved forward with a will of its own. The woman looked at him with confusion, and he forced himself calm down. Why the fuck hadn't he put on gloves?

Working hard to control the trembling of his hands, he reached out and helped her to stand. Hyper aware of the siren call of her blood he pulled his hands back as fast as he possibly could, hoping she didn't notice the way they trembled. Fortunately for him she seemed too concentrated on her own discomfort.

"Did you want something?" he asked brusquely when she had gotten her balance back.

"Not really. Well, I mean, yes. To... to apologize. For last night. For crying all over you. Sorry."

"No need," he told her "Forget about it. I have."

"Oh. Well, okay then," she stood for a moment worrying at her lower lip, and he noticed again how full her mouth was. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Out," he said tersely, old habits dying hard. As he saw her flinch, he made his tone soften. "Actually, I was going to see you."

"Really?" he eyes lit up, and Adam felt a panic that he could not place.

"Yes. You left this on the roof last night. I thought you might want it back."

"Oh," she said again, face falling once more. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," he said, grimacing. Why was she just standing there? "Well, see you."

"Yeah," she blinked up at him.

"Alright then."

Honestly, wasn't she ever going to move? Giving up, Adam gave her the closest he could muster to a half smile and turned back inside, shutting the door behind him in her face.

Only when the wood was solid between them did he shakily raise his hand in front of his face. There, crimson in the dim light of his apartment, was a smear of her blood. Unable to control himself any longer, he brought his hand to his mouth and desperately sucked the sticky liquid off, moaning with the taste of it. So fresh, so pure, so sweet.

Falling back on the sofa conveniently behind him, he realized he was hard again. Licking to make sure he had gotten every last drop, he stroked himself with his other hand. If he was picturing a certain set of wide eyes and lush lips, it was only because their owner's blood was still hot in his mouth. There could not possibly be any other reason.

***

Well, that had been an unmitigated disaster.

Lilly held the bag of frozen peas to her ass and tried not to dwell on how thoroughly she had humiliated herself. If that was an example of her improving her image she obviously needed to never leave the house again. She was not fit to be around other people. Certainly not fit to be around someone so flawless as her neighbor.

Good lord, when he had walked out the door and into her, it was like being hit with a load of bricks. Lying there on her backside staring up at him, Lilly had been almost stuck dumb by the sight. She had thought he was beautiful from a distance, or in the dark light of the roof. Standing as he was in a halo of porch light he was almost god-like. It did not help that his black leather jacket was parted to reveal a very well muscled chest and abdomen. Lilly's eyes traveled the length of him from the bob of his adam's apple, over his defined pecs and six pack, and down to the thin trail of hair and the vee that drew her eyes past the edge of his low slung jeans.

Sweet bajeebas, but he was perfect. She was hardly the same species. What had she been thinking?

The playing began sometime later that night, around midnight. Lilly was hunched of a jigsaw puzzle she had found in a cupboard. Her Grandmother had loved to do them, and Lilly had caught the bug. She had lost count of the number of nights she had stayed up obsessively putting them together, unable to go to bed until she had found just one more piece, only to see the sun rise as she finished it.

The wail of a guitar came through the wall, sounding plaintive and introspective. Lilly had been drawn to all of the music she had heard from him so far. His melodies were complex, and he seemed to favor minor keys. Her Grandmother would have liked it as well. No doubt she had enjoyed hearing the strains come through the thin walls. Certainly she would have preferred it to the fighting and drunken antics of the students that had always assailed them before.

Lilly found herself humming along to his playing. She loved music, even if she was self-conscious of her voice. Having a Grandmother who had made a career of crooning songs in smoky clubs made her all too aware of her own deficiency.

There was something so comforting about music. It was almost mathematical in the way it worked. Patterns created and repeated, only to be subverted and return in a new and unexpected ways. If the composer was good, that was. Her neighbor was very good.

Of course he would be good. God forbid he be less than perfect at anything.

So when he kept reaching the end of a delicate passage, only to end on a note that didn't quite resolve the phrase. Lilly could hear the frustration in his fingers clearly through the layers of sheet rock that separated them. At first it amused her; so he was fallible after all. Good. She allowed herself to take a superior pleasure in his failure.

By the time it was approaching two in the morning, she was ready to scream. She was over halfway done with her puzzle - a scene of Paris at night, all lit up - but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Her gorgeous, grouchy neighbor must have played through the piece a hundred times, and every time it ended wrong. It was driving her insane. He was so close to finishing it. Every time he hit the not quite right note she felt her entire body twitch. She could only imagine how he was feeling.

It started one more time. Lilly held her breath, willing him to find what was right there, waiting to be put in place. The final phrase started, she scrunched her face, waiting to hear it fixed. The note he played was achingly close, but not quite what the song cried out for.

"Half a step lower!" she screamed out, unable to resist any longer.

The music stopped. Everything went silent on the other side of the wall. Now she had done it. Lilly could see him, glaring at the wall with that intense, closed off set of blue eyes. She was inordinately happy now that a solid hunk of material kept them apart. Any hope of a friendship developing between her and her haughty crush had surely been dashed now. And all because she could not control her stupid impulses.

After a stretch that seemed like forever, a length of time where Lilly died and was forced back into existence repeatedly, the music started up again. She made herself a small lump in the corner of her sofa, as if somehow she could hide even though it was impossible for him to see her. If she could have fit below the cushions she would have.

He reached to end and after the slightest of pauses he played the note she had suggested. It sounded perfect. The chord rang out, slowly fading, and she felt a small smile fighting to exist on her lips.

The music stopped abruptly again, and for the rest of the night only silence greeted her through the wall between them.