#she would be like OKAY *moves all her shit in*

[skvrpion]

Familiar [M] Prologue

tw: references to porn & masturbation (f), swearing, drug paraphernalia

Saturday 1:00AM

Kendall blacked out as her body convulsed over her freshly washed comforter, acrylic toes curling and thighs clamping around the pink rose toy tucked in her palm. Her phone? Probably somewhere across the bed as she lost her grip on it to mewl and pant into the cold air of her room. Every other night for the past two weeks and counting, the twenty eight year old found herself in the same position: restless and horny out of her mind with no one there to put her to sleep. Her friends were right she needed a new man - more specifically - some new dick in her life, but she was too damn busy with work and kicking her stupid ass ex to the curb to get it.

So, it led to this - spending nights alone in her apartment masturbating to porn on Twitter

At least the guy she got off to was hot, well from below the neck he was anyway - his username was scvrlord and he never showed his face full online. As much as she frequented his page Kendall knew his half naked body from a mile away: a painfully thick frame accented with toasty skin, the aforementioned surgical scar running the length of his torso, and a delicately done black and grey sleeve trailing the exterior of left arm.

When it came to size, he wasn’t monsterish like his costars, but thick enough to make anyone squirm - simply put with the way he moved, he would leave even the most experienced performers seeing stars, shaking and bottomed out. Besides the physical, his voice was a deep baritone that softly rose every now and then when the sex he was having was amazing.

Something Kendall personally adored about him was his rarely seen and rather deadly set of eyes rimmed in thick lashes; his iris’s never quite settling on a color they bounced from a warm hazel to deep shade of blue, complimenting whatever color balaclava mask he donned for the evening.

Kendall knew it was entirely stupid to have a crush on someone she'd never met, especially a porn star with hundreds of thousands of followers, but something about him - even his tweets in between the back to back smut - reeled her in.

Whether he posted cellphone videos of him getting head or angled flicks of him dicking down a girl in his living room, Kendall found herself enamored by him and the spontaneous sex life he had. Maybe if she had someone like him in her life she wouldn't be as stressed about half the shit she was now.

A girl could only dream.

Right?

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Monday 11:40PM

"Yes I turned those files in yesterday, they should all be in the OneDrive link I sent you. No you don't need a password... yes - I double checked this time, so it should open up fine." Kendall uttered as she clicked down the foyer. If it wasn't her boss driving her up the wall at work, it was her fellow co-worker Jackson. He never stayed out of her hair and insisted on contacting her over the most minuscule things. It was mainly because he wanted to fuck and his advances in the office weren't getting him anywhere but back to his cubicle - alone.

On this lovely night it was nearing 12 in the morning and his pestering had yet to cease from the time Kendall had clocked in that morning.

"Jackson I'm about to get in the elevator and my signal is gonna go out, I'll call you when I get in okay?"

"Ah forreal? Aight, bet."

"It's not like that," she sneered, "this is corporate business remember?"

"Yeah yeah ye-"

She hit end and pretended that her signal had gone out when in reality she had four full bars. The elevator door pinged open and to her surprise someone else was inside. Inhaling deeply she slid in across from the stranger, keeping her eyes glued to a new text message from an unblocked number that slid across her screen. It was like all the annoying ass niggas wanted to get on her nerves tonight.

I know you up right now. When you gone let me get the rest of my stuff??

"What fucking stuff?" she thought out loud, pressing number 15 on the lift and watching the doors close back. Devin had gotten kicked out of her crib over a month ago, and for whatever reason he insisted accusing her of having his stuff hidden away. A loud hiss escaped her lips as she rapidly clicked out a reply.

Idk wtf you on about but I can promise you ain’t shit of yours here. Whatever I didn’t put on the curb prolly somewhere in Alabama rn, check Craigslist and block this number💯

Before she could end her text with a hearty ‘fuck off’, her screen cut to calling and Devins new number flooded the screen. Kendall softly thudded her head off the elevator wall and audibly deep sighed for the millionth time that day.

"Can a bitch catch a break? Goddamn." she said aloud, prompting the stranger next to her to let out a deep chuckle. It made her ears perk up and her body freeze a little. The laugh was familiar, one she'd heard way too many times before to not know.

'There's no way in hell...No. You just bugging out right now.' Thought Kendall.

To her relief the lift promptly stopped on 15, and she made no hesitation to get out and beeline to her apartment. As she stepped out, however, her keys hit the elevator floor and landed by the strangers foot. Before she could fully whip around and snatch them up, he’d already beat her to it, her eyes making a deathly slow trail from the floor to the hand holding her hot pink key ring.

Kendall’s heart went straight to her ass as she caught a full view of who she'd been standing next to.

He had the same tatts, the same voice, the same eyes.

"Here you go."

"Oh shit - thank you. Have a nice night."

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

When Kendall got inside her apartment, she let out a loud expletive-filled exhale and contemplated running straight for her room. Either she was losing her mind or fate was one hell of a thing. She knew she couldn't do it - whatever it was – sober, so she grabbed a bottle of Patron off of her kitchen counter and mixed the strongest margarita she could muster. After half an hour of contemplation and small sips of tequila Kendall finally caved in and headed to her room. Her heart was thumping out of her chest as she logged in and clicked on the profile she'd often visit. In a blind rush she navigated her way to his DM's and felt her heart skip a beat as the small dot next to his picture was green - he was awake and online, probably uploading a new video given the time.

"Don't be a pussy Ken, you already here." She mumbled

Before she could fully chicken out the liquor kicked in and forced her fingers to type.

k3nlaflair: you live in Av. 76?

…

…

k3nlaflair: I think I just ran into you.

k3nlaflair: on the elevator

…

scvrlord: oh shit, that was you?

Bingo. She held back a scream and composed herself as she thought of a decent reply back.

k3nlaflair: this is mad weird lol sorry

scvrlord: nah baby you good, you beautiful btw.

…

k3nlaflair: 🫠 thank you

k3nlaflair: and sorry for bothering you so late, this is crazyyyy lol thanks for the save

scvrlord: nah you good I promise

scvrlord: rs you the first person my age I’ve seen since I moved 😂

k3nlaflair: yeahh Av. is a nursing home if you squint hard enough lol they don’t really tell they yuppies about it either.

scvrlord: I def see now. since ion really know anybody around here you down to grab lunch this weekend? on me.

Kendall couldn't believe her eyes. Not only was this man living in the same building as her, he was now casually asking her out for a chat. If she fumbled this her friend group would never let her live this down. Heart fluttering, she quickly tapped away at her keyboard and blindly hit send.

k3nlaflair: I know a chill spot in K-town that’s real lowkey. foods to die for and the drinks are stiff as you can get lol!

scvrlord: bet. meet at mine Friday night. that cool?

k3nlaflair: bet.

Kendall was every bit of speechless. This was the clutch of the year - no the century - all thanks to her shitty roster and butter fingers. As she reread her final three letter text for the hundredth time in those fleeting minutes, a sheepish grin curled across her face.

‘Kendall: 1, Devin: 0’

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

first and foremost big thank you to the gang for inspiring (and gently bullying me) to get back in the writing field again, love y’all downnn 😭🫡

pls don’t be shy to leave a comment, suggestions for part one, whatever you like my friends 🫶🏽 see you in the next one

TAGS: @kimuzostar @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @yassbishimvintage @melaninpov @planetblaque @jenlovey @ranikyani

[whousestypewriters]

──── ୨ৎ THE RESTARAUNT — GRAYSON HAWTHORNE + READER ‧₊˚

a/n: and i drop this bombshell a MONTH after posting the last part. sorry for the wait my beautiful children ! a warning for a drunk guy being gross but thats it <33 unedited btww

[part one] i'm a fan [part two] the book club [part three] red was the carpet

"sit your ass down right now," alya smiles, her voice deceptively sweet as she tries to convince you to stay for this dinner. "i do not give one flying fu-"

"alya!" max's voice calls out from across the restaurant, alya seemingly forgetting that she's trying to coerce you into a seat, leaps up from her chair and rushes across the floor to throw her arms around her friend.

they start talking at a excessively fast pace as alya drags max, who drags xander, who pulls avery, who is holding hands with jameson, who is grinning at grayson standing a few feet away.

they move like a chain, wounding around tables and chairs, dodging waiters until they reach you, who is only now realising why alya wanted a big table tonight.

"hi y/n," max smiles and gives you a hug squeezing you a little more tightly than considered okay. she's up to something, same with alya, she's avoiding eye contact.

"okay everybody! sit! sit! dinner cannot wait!" alya announces to the group amidst the greetings, pulling out a chair and shoving you into it.

"more like you're hungry and you want to eat," you mutter as she pats your shoulder.

"damn straight, nothing should seperate a girl from her food."

"you have you're priorities right girl," max chuckles and sits down in her chair next to xander.

it was this moment, when you realised that grayson had not yet sat down, and that the only available chair was the one next to yours. and from the shit eating grins on every bodies faces they are all aware that it is the only chair left.

yn.books

liked by alya.green, maxine.liu.loo, thehawthorneheiress, graysonhawthorne, and 1, 246, 000 others

yn.books tonightttt

tagged: alya.green, maxine.liu.loo, thehawthorneheiress, graysonhawthorne, tickingtimebomb

view all comments

user1 i think... yeah no... i think i just died

user2 you look STUNNING

user3 i can see it now... grayson is onto something

user4 U CAN ONLY SEE IT NOW???

alya.green uh huhh... no wife mention i see

user5 spill the tea now

user6 wife??? what are you talking abouttt

user7 she's prob talking abt herself bc she's so wifey

graysonhawthorne it was a nice nice wasnt it?

user8 this is not a drill.... HES IN THE COMMENTS OH MY GODD

────

dinner had been served and the conversation had been flowing freely when it happened. avery was smiling at jameson as he whispered sweet somethings into her ear, staring adoringly at her. max, xander and ayla were in a deep conversation about libby and nash and how they were missing out on this drama.

grayson, was being grayson. quiet and stoic occasionally stealing glances at you. he had left for the bathroom when it happened.

"well hey there pretty girl," a slurred voice comes from beside you, and you feel a disgustingly warm presence beside you. "what are you doing here all alone?"

"i'm clearly not alone," you deadpan motioning around to the full table.

"but you are alone for me," he slurs leaning towards you.

"if you don't remove yourself from my seat in the next five seconds, you will be forcibly removed," the cold voice brings a wave of relaxation over you.

never once had you thought you would feel this comforted over a voice, but here you are.

"relax man i'm just talking to my girlfriend here," the freak tries to grab your wrist but you slap it away.

"if you ever talk about my wife that way again, you will not live to see the light of day."

ok.

um.

yeah.

no.

you're not okay.

"so step away from this table and get out of my line of sight now. and don't even think about coming near me or her ever again." the man scrambles away his suit crumpled and the strong waft of alcohol leaving.

his words - even under false pretences - make butterflies erupt in your stomach. and you think, you think, that being grayson hawthorne's wife would not be the worst thing in the world.

a cool strong hand wraps around you upper arm and guides you gently out of the chair and towards the stairs that lead to the rooftop bar. he leads you halfway up the stairs, and brings you to a stop on the darkness.

"are you okay?" his voice is low and urgent.

"did he touch you?"

you smile up at him, "i'm okay, he didn't touch me, he breath did though eugh."

────

hawthornegossipe

liked by 4, 756, 822 others

hawthornegossipe it was spotted by several fans that youtuber and instagram influencer y/n l/n and grayson hawthorne were spotted leaving their dinner with the well known jameson hawthorne and avery grambs and their other friends on saturday night. it was also reported that grayson referred to ms l/n, as his wife, with fans catching the interaction on camera.

what do we think hawthornegossipe fans?

view all comments

user1 and what if i screamed

user2 WIFE?!?!?! EXCUSE ME?????

user3 WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW

alya.green wife hey....

user4 alya tell us the truth pls what happened that night

user5 i saw them best night of my life !!!!

────

my wife.

my wife.

my wife.

boy were you in a situation now. half of the world was freaking out that those words had been dropped at dinner. the thousands of clips that had been screenshotted recorded everything were flying around the internet in record speed. you couldn't keep up.

neither could grayson apparently because the next morning you wake up to this

unknown number: we need to talk.

unknown number: its grayson by the way.

your heart dropped and a smile unwillingly took over your face. he wants to talk.

but more importantly how did he get your number?

a/n II: oop. whats that??? a plot twist. hehehehehe. now wait excited for whenever i drop the next part.

𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella, @midiosaamor, @maybxlle @reminiscentreader, @sweetreveriee

@elysianwayy77 @tornqdowarnings, @catapparently, @zenikswaffleshop, @thelov3lybookworm,

@anotherwriternamedclara, @goldi-1-graysons-version

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

i was lost within the darkness but then i found her; i found you. - k. yukimiya

synopsis: a man who couldn’t find purpose in his life and the woman who brought each of them meaning.

a/n: i was lowkey thinking of meruem and komugi the whole time i was making this.

yukimiya kenyu

yukimiya didn’t know what he was supposed to do now.

he clutched the papers from the doctor, walking to the nurse’s office at school for the information to be added to his profile at school. he walked with no emotion upon his usually jubilant and beautiful face, and it was as if all of the light had been sucked from his eyes.

“yukimiya?”

yukimiya looked up, and you stood in front of him, holding a few boxes in your hands. you were probably helping your teacher with moving things again.

yukimiya was fairly fond of you. you were kind and quick on your feet, and yet you always gave helpful, honest advice to your more delusional friends. he enjoyed being around you more than anything else at school. “oh, hello. how’s your day been going?” yukimiya asked, painting a smile over his frown on his face.

your eyebrows knit together. yukimiya recognized that look; his mother always had that look in his childhood whenever he had been crying and hid the fact from her. she always caught on quickly. “you seem upset, are you okay?” you placed your boxes on the floor next to you before walking closer to him, your head tilting slightly as you looked at him.

and as if water began overflowing in a glass after barely having not reach the point of spilling yet, tears began to spill from yukimiya’s eyes.

fat, warm tears stained yukimiya’s cheeks wet, and snot began leaking from his nose. if any of yukimiya’s fans had seen him like this, his modeling career and their crush on him would be over. but instead of looking at him with your face scrunched up in disgust from his current expression, you instead had him sit down with his back to the wall as you sat down next to him.

“what happened?” you asked, your voice soft. you assumed that it had to do with his eye and soccer career; after all, he got glasses even though he didn’t have them previously, and soccer was practically his whole life. yukimiya sniffled before looking at you.

“optic neuropathy,” yukimiya whispered. “there are black spots in my vision. treatment will help, but not fully cure it. worse case scenario, it causes blindness. the doctor said that i probably won’t be able to play soccer professionally anymore.” yukimiya sniffled again before he wiped his tears away, laughing.

“look at me. complaining to you about it even though it’s not even your problem. you should be helping the teacher, right? sorry, i know this is your free period and im not a very crier—“ before he could continue on with his idiocy, you grabbed his face in between both of your hands and faced him, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

“yukimiya kenyu,” you began, voice grave. your face darkened before your gentle cradle on his face turned into a stinging pinch. “first of all, i could care less about this being my free period. we still have months of school left, and that means hundreds of more free periods. second, no one cares that you’re an ugly crier! everyone ugly as shit when they’re sobbing and their face is all scrunched up when they’re bawling. you should’ve seen me when i read the chapter that gojo died!”

at your last comment, you could see yukimiya hold in a chuckle, which proved your effort worthy. “and also, maybe you won’t become the best forward in the world. maybe you really will become blind because of soccer. maybe all of your efforts wouldn’t have been worth it in the end. but yukimiya, i hope you know and realize that the result may be important, but…” you stopped your pinching, and you held his face as if you were holding the most precious and beautiful glass vase. “sometimes the joy of the process itself overshadows what was thought to be the joy that comes from the result.”

yukimiya’s eyes widened, and suddenly, a fresh batch of tears came to his eyes. but this time, it wasn’t of sadness. this time, warmth bloomed in his chest when the tears came. this time, his mind was clear of the negative thoughts when the tears came. and this time, instead of his vision being blurred by tears, his vision was being cleansed by the light right in front of him: you.

[theinheriteddutchess]

Kayce, she's just showed up, back off!

I thought you said it was only kissing but the way you write it I pictured her kissing something else than a mouth to me 👀 wait did she run from him without letting him know she knew what he did? Surely he must know now?

Yeah, why is he still wearing the ring?? So if she didn't show up he would have continued wearing it? 🧐

Girl your vagina is talking too loudly, calm down madam! You're less than a day here!

So not just kissing? Kayce you whore! How to explain this? Huh? Well you were horny and just went for it because you were selfish and stupid. Of yeah don't forget you were young 🙄.

I mean she might as well have stayed if she's going to fall for that so easily! Talked to him, forgiven him and started with him. Until the next mistake🥲

Vagina calm down! I know he's looking sad, and he has gorgeous long hair and a cute smile, but we're better than this! We don't listen to stupid hormones and make bad decisions for sad boys!

Sad boy, I fucked that man. I fucked him all over Texas! I'm here now talking to you, reminiscing him, okay? Is that what you want to know?

You got married, jeez dude the irony of jealousy here.

He's full of himself at least, around her!

On the other hand she's defending a relationship she's left, and moved back here to him, and she's doubting if she loved him now she's looking at Kayce again. He's probably is reading her like an open book.

The vagina isn't thinking clear, stop listening to his beautiful eyes! And his sad boy vibes, you came here to figure things out! (That confidence sure is sexy though)

Lol his dad "give her some time but tie that shit down"

Noooo is over, I wanted to continue reading🥲

I can just imagine him looking at me like that and saying all these things pretending to be cute, but we know he's a menace!

I was going to just comment shortly but alas I got caught up again 😮‍💨🤌🏻

Weight of My Sins, Part 1

Summary: You thought life on the ranch was over. Couldn't bear the sight of Kayce anymore, so you fled all the way to Texas. You found a new relationship. You lived. You got a degree. But you missed Montana more than anything, but he wasn't leaving Texas. Now you're back on the ranch, and you and Kayce both lived your life. But that draw to him is still there, even if you're terrified to let those walls back down again. No matter how much you crave him.

Pairings: Kayce Dutton X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.1K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

“Stop fidgeting,” Rip’s gruff voice bellows in the truck, and you press your hands under your legs.  Continuing to stare out your window.  The closer you get to the ranch the worse the feeling in the pit of your stomach gets.  This has got to be a bad idea, and nothing good can come of it.  You need a job just as much as you need a place to stay.  And Rip did you a solid in getting John to allow that for you.  Under different circumstances this would be the perfect solution to your problem.  

“You’re going to stay in the bunkhouse, so I’ll have to go over some ground rules with the wranglers,” you roll your eyes as you turn to look at him.  Ever the protective big brother role.  He isn’t your biological big brother.  Just a man that felt sorry for you as a kid, and helped out when he could.  You were his pet project.  And one of the few people he was kinda nice to.  Some things never change. 

“I don’t want you fucking around with them.  And believe me, they’re a bunch of lonely, horny cowboys.” 

“Aww, but you’re not interested in me.  Are you still lonely and horny?” He gives you an eat shit grin, shaking his head.  You are not the least bit worried about the wranglers.  They are the least of your worries.  “What if this doesn’t work out?” 

“Grow a pair of balls and make it work,” he shrugs as the ranch comes into view.  Immediately your fingers start fidgeting under your thighs.  So many memories remained here.  Up until the point that you left for veterinary school.  Anything to help out the ranch.  That’s Rip’s philosophy, even if he won’t say it.  Anything.

“Quit fidgeting!” He growls at you.

“I’m not!” You don’t want to admit that being here is turning your stomach inside out.  Don’t want to admit what just seeing the last name Dutton does to you.  Some things just are better left unexplored.  Especially now that you’re going into his territory.  His home.  

Rip puts the truck into park, and you inhale slowly.  Letting the fresh air fill your lungs before you slowly exhale.  Popping your neck for good measure before you sling the door open, and jump out.  Time seems to stand still here.  Very little has changed, except your age.  “Come on,” your adopted brother says, and you follow along with his long strides.  

Slinging the door open, Rip drops your meager duffle bag on the floor, and every man in there turns to glare at you.  Lloyd gives you a slight dip of his chin, “Welcome back, Bronc,” you nod to him.  The others you don’t truly recognize.  

“This here is like a little sister to me.  You treat her with fucking respect, and you stay out of her damn pants,” clearing their throats they return to their card game, leaving you puffing out a nervous breath before giving Rip a head nod.  “Yep. That’s it,” he says, turning on his heels, and leaving you in this den of bears.  

“Which bunk is available?” 

“One of those back ones,” Lloyd points in the direction without removing his eyes from his hand.  You didn’t expect a grand welcome, but this is pathetic.  Your eyes roam around each of the bunks.  Examining the spaces, looking for anything familiar. 

“He’s not here,” Lloyd answers, finally looking at you. 

“Who?” the old man’s eyebrows lift, as he nods at you sarcastically.  Judging asshole.  You weren’t looking for anyone.  You were trying to figure out how you fit in with these men.  Reaching into your bag, you stuff a few peppermints into your pocket.  You sling your duffle bag onto the bunk before turning to go towards the door, “I’m going out.” 

“Uh huh,” Lloyd answers knowingly.  You didn’t care what the man thought of you.  You need to get out of this room.  It’s stifling being in this bunkhouse.  Hell, it’s stifling being here.  With all these memories.  But ones that you love so much.  You miss it. 

Sighing at your contradictory thoughts, you kick gravel as you walk to the barn.  Getting away from humans, and joining animals.  They were better than humans.  They didn’t offer any words of wisdom, or judgement.  They are just there.  Lifting up a peppermint to one of them, he eats the treat off your hand, and you lean your head against his nose petting him.  

“First night here, and you’re already spoiling my horse, Bronc,” you didn’t have to see him to know that voice.  The one voice that makes you weak in the knees, and sick to your stomach all at the same time.  The one voice that has stuck to you like a bad habit, and you seek comfort in it with every sylablle. 

“Dutton,” you respond before starting to walk away.  He steps in front of you, and you turn to walk the other direction, but he jumps in front of you again.  His mouth turns up into that irresistible smile, and ‘it just makes you angry, and also makes you want to touch him.  The conflicting emotions just don’t stop.

“Why are you feeding my horse treats?” 

“Why are you hiding in the dark?” He shrugs.  A cute smile creeps onto his face, and you bashfully look away as heat flares your cheeks, “Did you follow me out here?” 

“No, I didn’t know you were going to be here.  Why are you here?” 

Somehow him not knowing you are going to be living here floods you with relief.  “This baby wanted a little treat, and I doubt you were giving him anything.” 

“You’ve not changed,” smiling, you let your eyes coast down his body, freezing at an ugly ring on his finger, and your blood turns cold.  Why is he even here giving you any ounce of hope?  He notices where your sight is, and hides his hand, but it’s too late.  Everything from that last night boils in your chest.  

“But you’ve changed,” you try to smile, and it just hurts.  You didn’t expect Kayce to not have a life and live it, but moving on with a wife is not what you expected.  

“It’s complicated,” is the only thing he says as he stuffs his hands in his pocket. 

“It always is with you, Dutton,” you respond, starting to walk away.  This time he doesn’t follow.  You can almost see him standing there with his pretty puppy eyes.  

“We’re separated,” you stop in your tracks, but don’t turn around.  Saying something like that is almost a death sentence.  Separated did not mean they weren’t going to get back together.  It could mean they needed space.  And you weren’t going to be the space he filled.  You sigh, turning to look at him.  

“Mmm, I don’t know if that’s good enough, Kayce,” his smile doesn’t falter.  You used his first name.  Using that name is so much warmer than using Dutton.  When you bring out the last name, he knows you’re slightly annoyed.  

Walking up to you, his calloused fingers brush over your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a familiar embrace.  Caressing your back as he brings you too close.  Like your bodies were made to meld together.  

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you respond, pushing out of his hold and you turn to give the horse a kiss.  

Your body is on fire.  Trembling as you take a step back from him.  His scent of sunshine and leather blinds you.  The want for him is almost too strong.  “What do you want?” 

He grunts, “You,” but you shake your head no.  Everything is always so damn complicated with him.  “We are separated.” 

“And yet, you’re still married.” 

“Do you think that if I was happily married I’d be out here after midnight?  I’ve moved back to the ranch, and we rarely talk, unless it has to do with,” his voice goes softer, and your eyes slowly close, “My son,” the twisting of that knife hurts so much worse than hearing he’s married.  “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“Yeah.  And I can imagine how it is with you.  You come here to be separated, and somehow you end up feeling sorry for yourself, and lonely, and then you're driving out wherever, and right back into her arms to play house.  Is that how it goes?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“Why is it different now?” There’s no answer that he could give you that would make you feel better.  You’re left feeling like a junkie, and your drug of choice is Kayce John Dutton.  Always was.  Probably always will be.  

“Because of you.” 

“Oh, no.  I just got here, and you don’t get to come here with your pretty words when I’m trying to do a damn job.  You and your cute ass need to keep things professional.  I don’t need this Kayce.  It’s my first night.” 

“So you don’t hate me?” You could never truly hate Kayce.  You could have your heart broken by him.  Again.  But you’ve never hated him. 

“No, but I’m also not fucking you,” he chuckles as you walk backwards, and out of the barn. 

“Again!” He yells, too loud, and you hope that no one hears the two of you out here alone.  You didn’t need any rumors going around about how you were fucking him in the barn on the first night.  

“It was a mistake,” you wink at him.  Lying in this instance is a way to protect you.  There’s nothing that you regret with Kayce.  Not on your end.  

“And why was it a mistake?” 

“Premature ejaculation,” he looks down at his feet, as he toes the ground, “Due to the fact that neither of us knew what we were doing.  But it sure did get us into a lot of trouble, huh?  Have a good evening, Dutton.” 

“That wasn’t nice,” he peeks up at you, smiling anyways.  

“Nice?  Was it nice that I saw you with some girl in our spot?  You sure were curled up, and enjoying her with your mouth.  Was that nice?” 

“Wait…” you have to rip the bandaid, and let him know that you knew what he was doing.  You should have confronted him then.  Maybe you could have truly moved on and healed.  Maybe you wouldn’t have longed for Montana, and those pretty brown eyes still. 

You shake your head, because you need space from him.  He is crowding your thoughts, and your vagina.  If you didn’t get away, you’d be rolling around in the hay with him.  “I get we were teenagers.  Too young to be fucking.  And too stupid to remain faithful.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Like we have a choice,” he stands there smiling.  Not fully defeated by your words.  You weren’t bending to his words and charm, but you also weren’t refusing to talk to him.  “Don’t wear the ring.” 

“Whatever you say, Bronc,” you wouldn’t forgive him if he kept showing up with that ugly thing.  It pains you to know that he went off and married someone and had a child with someone that wasn’t you, and you couldn’t blame him either.  He’d moved on, and in so many ways you haven’t.  

You hope you don’t regret this decision to be here.  Hope that Kayce doesn’t infect your mind, and heart in the way he’s always done.  Knowing that he’s married, even if separated, helps.  And he has a kid.  Time didn’t change your feelings because you still ache for him.  

Separated.  

What did that even mean?  How did he define that word?

How long has he been separated?  Were his sweet words anything more than that?  Would he return to his wife?  He has a kid with her, so it’s not like he can just walk away easily.  Unless he already has.  But how can you be sure that this is it?  It’s the end and he’s never going to be with her again?  And if he was sure, why not going through a divorce? 

No.  You’re here to do a job, and doing a job is what you’re going to do.  You want to be treated just like everyone else on this damn ranch.  You weren’t going to become a love sick puppy for him.  You’re going to enjoy the Montana air.  The view here.  And finally doing something with your life.  And for you.

“Bronc and I are going to take the back,” Kayce smiles at Rip, and the older man’s eyes narrow at him.  

“Why?” he asks, giving you a quick look as you saddle up a horse, ignoring the conversation.  You’ll go where you’re told.  “Why are you bringing up the rear, and why is she even coming out with us?” 

“Because if something happens, we have a licensed vet right with us.  She’s bringing up the rear because she’s never gone out with us before, and this will give her a chance to learn.” 

Rip places his hands on his hips, gazing out to the sunrise, sighing, “I’m still not sure why you’re with her.  Put Jimmy in the rear with her, and — why the hell are you shaking your head at me?” 

“She doesn’t know Jimmy.” 

“And yet she sleeps in the bunkhouse with him,” Kayce clears his throat, and only because the last place that he wants you to be is with Jimmy. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“Bronc and I are taking the rear.  Jimmy’s got flank.  Is the bunkhouse really the best place for her to be?” 

“Hell, Kayce, she’s not going to learn anything by getting special treatment,” you aren’t getting special treatment from him.  He just wants to make sure you stay comfortable, and be with him.  He needs more time to talk to you.  “Fine,” Rip growls, getting on his horse.  “She’s your responsibility then.” 

“I’ll try to keep her out of trouble.” 

Rip turns his horse around and heads towards the front, “Bronc, you're with Kayce in the back,” you sigh, climbing onto the horse.  Kayce gives you a wink as he climbs on his own, and waits for you. 

“You’re not subtle, you know?” He shrugs, and you can’t help but take a peek at his hand.  The ring thankfully is gone.  He kept his word.  And while it does ease your stomach, there’s still a part of you that knows that still isn't enough.  It’s easy to not wear a ring in private.  It’s easy to pretend it doesn’t mean a thing, but it does.  It should. 

“Are you planning on making sure we’re always together?” He shrugs again.  He’s the one that wanted you in the rear with him, and now he’s not talking.  But maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.  “So how have you been?” 

“Doesn’t matter.  I’m better now,” you scoff, keeping your eyes on the cattle.  “What?  Is my response not satisfactory?  Remember you left Montana.” 

“And you had your hands in some other girl's pants.” 

He winces, sucking air through his teeth, “Are you ever going to let me explain, so I can maybe get your forgiveness?  I told you I was stupid?” 

“Are you ever going to do it again?” 

“Are you ever going to go on a date with me?” 

“Not anytime soon,” you click your tongue, and tap your heels on the horse.  Speeding up a bit more, but he keeps his pace with you.  “Things can’t go back to how they were,” you wonder if he thought any relationship can return to how they were before, or if you’re just the lucky one.  Did he still carry a torch for you, like you did him?  

“So no more sneaking off into my room, doing things we were too young to be doing?” Him and his stupid little smile get you every time.  Not to mention the passion you always felt with Kayce.  You were never going through the motions, you loved every moment with him.  Even your fights that quickly were resolved, and you went on loving each other anyways, and loving harder.  

“Why did you leave?” His voice darkens, and he turns his face away from you.  

“I needed air,” he nods, understanding.  You needed to get away from him.  “Why did you do it?” 

“Kiss someone that wasn’t my girlfriend?” 

“You weren’t just kissing.” 

“Yeah, that’s all we did,” you shake your head no.  That is not what she implied happened.  And just kissing is enough anyways.  “It was stupid.  And I quickly realized that she wasn’t you, and did I say that I was stupid?” 

“You did,” you look over towards him, smiling, “But you can keep saying it,” a comfortable silence settles between the two of you, and you breathe in the fresh mountain air.  Realizing all the reasons that you missed Montana, but also the Yellowstone.  Things are peaceful in their way, of course, but there’s just this home feeling here.  

“Did you miss it?” 

“Do you mean did I miss you?” You turn to peek towards Kayce, and he chuckles, shaking his head.  

“I asked if you missed it as in this?” 

“Every day,” you enjoyed school, and you would do it all over again for the experience, and to say you have a skill.  You did miss some of the people, and now that you’re here you miss some of the people in Texas.  One of the people. 

“What did — did you — I mean,” he clears his throat.  Looking up to the clear blue sky, before back over towards you.  You already know exactly what he’s struggling to ask, and it’s due to the fact he doesn’t really want to know.  “How was Texas?” 

“You want to ask me the real question?” sometimes it’s best to just know the truth, and lay it all out there.  Even if you’re scared to know the answer.  You can learn ways to cope or just get over it. 

Kayce sniffs deeply, and tilts his head to the side in thought, “Did you meet anyone there?” Not the right question.  He’s such a coward. 

“Cowboy up, Kayce.  You can do better than that if you really want to know.  Just ask me like a man.” 

“Are you dating anyone?” 

“No.” 

“Did you?” 

“Was that so hard?” Surprisingly he nods his head.  He can respond but just asking was like pulling teeth, and it kinda gave you a bit of a confidence boost.  “I did.  Was.  I was dating someone.  It was pretty serious, but he wanted to stay in Texas, and I wanted to be back here.  We split amicably, and I packed up my stuff, moved out, and now I’m back here.” 

“What was he like?” His jaw flexes when he asks.  He doesn’t truly want to know what he is like, but you’re going to tell him anyway.  Kayce always had a possessive streak.  It never reached toxic heights, thankfully. 

“He’s a mechanic.  Older than me.  He’s a good guy.  He didn’t have much growing up, but he made something of himself, despite his setbacks,” Kayce just nods his head, refusing to look at you.  You like seeing him squirm a bit.  Not that you’re into comparing, but you didn’t have a child with him, nor were you married.  “I think you’d like him.” 

“Not likely.”  

“He played football.” 

“Definitely wouldn’t like him then.  Let me guess, he’s just a regular ole pretty boy that treated you okay, but it wasn’t great?  Maybe borderline annoyed you?” 

“He’s a good guy.  We were getting to a more steady part of our relationship.  It wasn’t too exciting.  And we never fought,” Kayce snorts, causing you to look towards him.  “We didn’t.” 

“Sounds like there was no passion.” 

“You mean it doesn’t sound like us?” 

“We’re adults now, Bronc.  We’re not going to act like two lovestruck teenagers anymore.  We were figuring ourselves out.  We didn’t know the meaning of compromising.  Now we’re grown,” no, you weren’t teenagers anymore.  He’d definitely grown.  At times you and Kayce just didn’t want to see eye to eye.  There was absolutely no compromising in your relationship.  So him admitting that makes you feel happy.  You left something steady, albeit boring at times, because the two of you couldn’t compromise on where to live.  He wasn’t leaving Texas, and you wanted to be in Montana.  

“So just how boring was this guy?” 

“Tell me about your son,” you counter.  Kayce smirks while looking up ahead to the herd.  You aren’t supposed to go out with them often, but you wanted to see the land again.  “How old?” 

“He’s eight.” 

“You didn’t waste any time did you?” 

“He wasn’t planned, and I was distraught.  I don’t regret him though.  He’s perfect.  Reminds me of myself.” 

“Did you love her?” He goes silent.  His puppy dog eyes scan over everything as he contemplates.  “I think I loved him,” Kayce turns to look at you, his smile now returning.  “What?” 

“Did you ever tell him?” 

“Yes.” 

“So did you lie?” It’s an odd thing to say, really.  It shouldn’t be hard for you to admit that yes you loved him or no you didn’t.  It felt right at the time but hindsight is always twenty twenty.  Now, you’re unsure just how you felt about him, “So what you mean is you didn’t love him like you loved me?” 

“No,” definitely not what you meant.  Right?  All those years weren’t a lie.  You had fun.  You enjoyed yourself.  You loved, and felt loved, and — so easily left it for here.  And Kayce.  “I didn’t say that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” he looks towards you, slowing his horse down, but your mind is racing too much to try and look at him.  You need space again, and yet have to stay.  You want to run, but towards him or away from him?  You knew that the forever there complicated feelings towards Kayce would return the moment you saw him, but you weren’t prepared for this.  And if you left again, those feelings would remain.  Eventually you’ll have to explore those feelings.    

Questioning your relationship was not something you had planned.  You loved him, but could live without him.  It’s why you chose to come here.  Back home.  And to him.  So why is it so hard to admit that out loud, and to Kayce.  Why does this man crowd your brain space, and make you question every decision you’ve ever made. 

The only reason you left Montana was to get space from him.  You needed to breathe and make sense out of everything going on.  And to find yourself without him in it.  Without anyone in your life.  To know you could do it.  Kayce was supposed to give you time to figure this out.  You could have a life out of this bubble.  

This beautiful, amazing bubble. 

“Why did you come back?” 

“This is the place that has always felt like home.” 

“Because it’s where I’m at,” he sure is cocky.  Brazenly full of himself.  Part of this being home is him.  But that doesn’t mean that you are referring to him as home.  It means… “You can deny it all you want, but…” 

Kayce clicks his tongue, and starts a faster gallop, leaving you contemplating what he said.  It’s what he does.  He weasels into your brain, and makes you think and question things.  And then he finds himself in your pants, and then in your heart.  But that isn’t the concerning thing, the concerning part is not fully knowing if he is correct.  And do you want him there?  

“You know what I always liked about that girl?” Kayce looks up at his dad, confusion laced in his eyes.  “She never tried to change you.” 

“Who?” 

“Oh, are you still denying that you had a thing with Rip’s little orphan project?” Instead of responding, his son takes another bite of food.  The two of you weren’t exactly quiet about your feelings for one another, but you also didn’t parade it around.  “I see.  So she comes back to town, being hired on as a personal vet or wrangler, I can’t keep up.  And the first thing she does is go on the trail with you, and rides right beside you?  Okay.” 

John eats a piece of meat, smiling at his son who still says nothing.  “You speak more when she’s around.” 

“Are we going to talk about Bronc this whole dinner?” 

“Still got that same nickname for her.  How do you feel about her sharing a bunkhouse with a bunch of men?” Kayce despises it.  Hates even thinking about someone getting too close to you.  He’d offer for you to stay with him, but you’d immediately jump to conclusions.  You could sleep where you wanted to, but he did have an extra room.  “I see.  Must make you sick to think about all those cowboys around fresh meat. We know Bronc can take care of herself.  But she did just get out of a relationship because he didn’t want to take things to the next step.” 

“He didn’t want to move to Montana.” 

“Where she wanted to get married, and settle down with him,” John shrugs as he wipes his mouth with his napkin.  “She’s quite vulnerable.  Don’t push her, but don’t have her too far away from you,” he nods as he pushes his chair back from the table.  “You should offer her some of the food Gator made.  I’m sure it’s better than whatever microwave food she’s got there.” 

—

There is a lot of freedom being here.  However, the food sucks.  You’ll have to remedy that soon.  Sitting out on the porch, you kick up your feet, and inhale deeply.  Letting the mountains absorb your problems.  Hope that they will, so you have some clarity.  

Even with everyone in the bunkhouse carrying on and playing a game of poker, you feel relaxed.  Today felt good.  You didn’t exactly know what your job here would entail; maybe you’d need to travel to some other ranches and tend to their animals.  But tonight, it’s just you.  And the annoying music coming from somewhere.

You won’t let it bother you.  

You don’t care if it’s annoying ‘country’ music.  What even is that shit?  Nope.  It won’t bother you.  You’ll just sit and eat your microwave Mac and cheese, and ignore whatever is going on over there.  This is your bubble.  Your safe space.  You are calm and collected.  Not annoyed at all.

That music is just very obnoxious, and you swear it’s getting louder.  You could ask them to be quiet.  You don’t even know whose cabin it is.  Someone that works here, obviously.  But it’s like they're purposefully trying to get under your skin.  

You sigh as you stand up stretching.  Going inside the bunkhouse would involve you trying to ignore the wranglers.  While not impossible, you’re now more curious as to who is being obnoxious.  It won’t hurt to go check it out.  

Making sure to throw your garbage away, you start to head towards the door, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Lloyd calls after you, but you don’t listen.  Don’t even turn around.  You have some exploring to do.  

You have to know.  Need to know who it is.  You don’t have far to walk judging by the sound.  It’s close.  Far enough away from the bunkhouse for some privacy.  There’s nobody here that would hurt you.  There could be other things that could be dangerous. 

“What are you doing out alone?!” You spin around, and hit him due to your veins coursing with  adrenaline.  “Ow, you still got an arm on you,” Kayce winces, rubbing his arm. 

“Why the fuck are you sneaking up on me in the middle of the night?” Whisper screaming as you hit him again.  “What is wrong with you, and what is the deal with this shitty music?” 

“So the music worked?” You stare at him dumbfounded, trying to figure out what he’s meaning.  “It got you over here, didn’t it?” 

“You ass, Kayce Dutton.  I was minding my business, eating dinner, and looking at the stars.” 

“Your dinner wasn’t good enough,” you have to look away when he licks his lips.  Causing every fiber in your body to heat up.  Being with him alone in the dark is a sure fire way to get you in trouble.  You’re resisting the urge.  You could fall for Kayce again, just not tonight. 

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?” 

“I brought a plate from the lodge,” bare minimum.  Don’t fall for this.  This is barely anything.  You want him to work if he wants to get you back.  And you know you shouldn’t rush into anything serious.  With Kayce it will be serious.  “I can heat it up.  We can dance, talk, watch a movie, sit out here?” he smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“We’re not dancing to this shit.” 

“Of course not.” 

“And I don’t think dancing is something we should do,” he nods his head yes, agreeing to that.  “We can sit out and stare at the stars, and I’m going back to the bunkhouse.” 

“I have an extra bed.” 

“But I won’t stay in it.”

“Why’s that?” Kayce steps too close to you, invading your bubble, and it’s hard to breathe.  Be strong.  Do not fall for this.  If you want to be with Kayce the wait will be worth it.  You want to be able to give you and him the best possible chance.  Start from the beginning. 

“Because I am weak when it comes to you, and I don’t want to be.  So my happy little ass will walk right back to that bunkhouse, and I’m going to sleep there.  And tomorrow is a new day, and you’re going to stop flirting so hard.” 

“I can try and do that,” his hand brushes away the baby hairs off your forehead, and you fight not to lean into him.  Glancing down to his left hand, you count this small moment as a win.  

“Thank you,” you whisper to him before spinning around, and walking towards the cabin. 

“Why?” 

“If I have to tell you it doesn’t have the same gravity,” he smiles serenely before jumping in front of you to open the door.  He’s had that ugly ring off twice now.  It’s a small thing that should not mean much, and yet it does.  You just hope that he keeps it off.  Because you can’t handle another heartbreak like that.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @theinheriteddutchess

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Stand By Me (Part 3)

You knew it was coming.

Your mother wasn’t the type to let things go. The silence—the control she was losing over you—was like a lit fuse, and you knew it was only a matter of time before it blew.

Marshall knew it, too.

He never said it outright, but he stayed a little closer, held you a little longer, kept his phone on him more than usual, like he was waiting for the moment she finally snapped.

And when she did?

It was worse than you ever could have imagined.

---

It happened on a Sunday.

You had just started to feel okay again—just started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could move forward without the weight of your mother’s words dragging you down.

Then your phone rang.

You stared at the screen, dread settling heavy in your gut.

Mom calling.

You almost let it go to voicemail. But something told you that if you didn’t pick up, she wouldn’t stop. That she’d just keep calling, keep finding ways to push herself back into your life.

So you answered.

And from the second you said hello, it was a mistake.

“Oh, so you do still know how to pick up the phone,” she snapped. No greeting. No warmth.

You swallowed. “Mom—”

“No, don’t start,” she cut you off. “I have sat here for weeks wondering what the hell I did to deserve this. You ignoring me? Treating me like I’m some kind of villain?”

Your grip on the phone tightened. “Mom, I’m not—”

“Shut up!” she screamed, her voice cracking through the line.

You flinched.

Marshall, who had been in the kitchen, immediately looked up, his expression hardening.

“I gave you everything!” your mother raged. “And this is how you repay me? By cutting me off? By choosing him over your own family?”

Your heart pounded. “This isn’t about Marshall—”

“Bullshit! He did this to you! He poisoned you against me!”

Marshall was watching now, his entire body tense, his fists clenched. He couldn’t hear her words, but he didn’t need to. He could see the way they were hitting you like knives, the way you were curling in on yourself.

And that was enough.

Before you could stop him, he was next to you, pressing the speaker button.

“If you got somethin’ to say about me,” he said, his voice calm but deadly, “say it to my face.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“You piece of shit,” your mother spat. “You ruined her. You took her from me.”

Marshall scoffed. “Nah, lady. You did that all on your own.”

Her breath hitched. “How dare you—”

“I dare ’cause someone had to tell you the truth,” he cut her off. “You don’t get to treat her like garbage and still expect her to come runnin’ back. You don’t get to guilt her into keepin’ you in her life.”

You swallowed hard, gripping Marshall’s hand like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You know what your problem is?” Marshall continued. “You thought you could break her down so much that she’d never leave. But guess what? She did. And she ain’t comin’ back.”

The line was so quiet you almost thought she had hung up.

Then, in a low, venomous voice, she hissed, “She will. When you get tired of her. When you finally throw her away like you do with everyone else.”

Marshall’s jaw clenched, his entire body going rigid. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, the way his breathing deepened.

But before he could say anything, you spoke.

“No,” you said softly, but firmly. “He won’t.”

Your mother let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, honey, wake up. He’s Eminem. He’s not built to love anyone. He’s just playing house with you until he gets bored.”

You felt Marshall flinch beside you.

And maybe, once, you would have believed her. Maybe, once, her words would have sent you spiraling, had you questioning everything.

But not anymore.

Not after everything he had done to prove otherwise.

“He loves me,” you said simply. “And he treats me better than you ever have.”

Your mother sucked in a breath, like you had physically struck her.

And for the first time, you felt free.

She could rage, she could insult you, she could twist the knife all she wanted—but she couldn’t control you anymore.

You had made your choice.

And it wasn’t her.

“Don’t call me again,” you said, voice steady. Then, without waiting for a response, you ended the call.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Marshall was still staring at the phone, like he half-expected it to ring again.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“You okay?” His voice was rough, edged with anger he hadn’t been able to unleash.

You exhaled, dropping your hands. “Yeah.” And then, quieter, “I think I really am.”

He studied you for a long moment, like he was making sure you weren’t just saying that. Then, finally, he sighed and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tight it knocked the breath out of you.

“I got you,” he murmured. “Always.”

And you believed him.

For the first time, you really, truly believed him.

[ghostf1ux]

Going for the Throat

Day 1: Vocal Cords

Word Count: 3.4k

TW/CWs: Bad Dad!Bruce, me projecting onto Jason and Bruce's relationship

Part 1 || Part 2 (here)

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

Rain and thunder pound against the abandoned apartment building where two men face off.

“It's me or him. You have to choose!”

Jason watches with wide eyes as Bruce– no, Batman– turns around, as if he's ignoring a petulant child. He turns his gun from the Joker's head to Batman's.

“Choose!”

In a whirl of motion, he turns and flings his arm out. Laughter– maniacal, cackling laughter– echoes in Jason's ears. A bolt of lightning reflects off a dark, moving shape, the metal glinting dangerously.

He watches it fly towards him in slow motion.

He's too slow.

Too slow to move out of the way– to slow to process– 

Before that batarang is slicing his throat open into a cavernous ravine. 

He drops the Joker. The Joker laughs. Jason clutches at his throat– rivers of blood slipping between his fingers, filling up his throat, and he gasps but no air comes. 

He stumbles back, hand slipping off the wall, slick with his own blood. It pitter-patters against the ground in time with the rain. Green light– the color of Joker’s hair, the color of acid, the color of toxicity and pain– filters in through the windows, the little room where Jason drowns in his own blood starts to fill up with it. It pulls his limbs down, tearing and scratching and burning–

Jason shoots up with a choked gasp, skin slick with sweat. His blankets are strewn haphazardly around him, twisted in his limbs. His breathing is heavy and labored, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he takes in the unfamiliar dark room.

Right. 

He’s hiding out in a club’s back room while Bruce is conducting his investigation or whatever.

More accurately, he’s hunting Jason down while Tim does the actual investigation.

He drags his hand down his face as he gets his breathing back under control, scrubbing the last dredges of sleep from his eyes before rolling over to sit on the edge of the bed. He rests his elbows heavily on his knees, rubbing at the new scratches he’s made over the scar on his neck. Swallowing feels like rubbing sandpaper over a road rash, so he opts to stop doing that.

Only a moment later, there’s a soft knocking on his door. His immediate reaction is to point the gun he keeps under his pillow at it, slowly, soundlessly prowling closer. It’s probably just one of the girls, but his paranoia has been at an all time high these past few days he’s been staying here.

He cracks open the door, body taut with anticipation.

The soft, makeup-painted face of Kat looks back at him, those doe-eyes that make her customers swoon glancing over him. He sighs, leaning against the doorframe and opening the door a little wider.

“What’s up, Kat?” Jason asks tiredly, scratching his forehead with the back of his gun. She raises an eyebrow, though whether it’s because of the gun or because his voice sounds like it’s been through a paper shredder, he doesn’t know.

“The little one came back. Said the Bat has requested your presence.” She toes the door open a little further, just the few inches Jason will allow her to before stopping it with his foot. “Are you okay?”

Jason just grunts a vague affirmative, not quite meeting her eyes. She watches him idly rub at his neck, covering the raised scar standing out against his tan skin.

“Right, well, if you’re going to go, take a shower first. And leave the door unlocked so we know. He said he’d be waiting in the back.”

With that, she casts one last glance back at him before he shuts the door and she leaves. He sighs, the sound coming out more clipped and rough than normal.

Fuck. Of course this is the day this shit decides to act up.

Begrudgingly, he cleans up the room from his stay. He has half a mind to just let the little demon wait outside and never go to meet him, but that would just lead to him being annoyed by his siblings until he finally did listen, so it’s best to just get it over with now. The faster he can get Bruce off his back and go back to patrols, the better.

Over the next half hour, he takes his time putting the room back together, taking a shower per Kat’s suggestion, and getting back into his suit, sans helmet or domino, seeing as he hasn't been to any of his safehouses since B started hunting him.

He takes the back exit, avoiding anyone who may question why the Red Hood is in the back of a strip club without all of his gear on.

Then again, pretty much anyone who’s here knows the vague idea of what’s been happening the past few days so they probably wouldn’t question it all that much actually. 

As soon as he pushes the door open he sees Damian waiting, passively listening to the girls on break with his arms crossed, resolutely ignoring the way they’re clearly whispering about him. 

He snaps to attention when he sees Jason, straightening up. “Akhi. Father has–”

“Requested my presence, yes,” Jason finishes dryly, muttering the words once he’s closer so he doesn’t have to irritate his throat any more than needed. Damian still pauses when he hears the words, squinting at him.

“What is the matter with your voice?” He asks sharply. Jason brushes past him, waving the girls off as he takes the tarp off his motorcycle he retrieved yesterday. They head back inside, leaving the two vigilantes alone. “Answer me.”

“Nothing's wrong,” Jason huffs, wincing slightly at how the words crackle in his throat. Damian stares at him pointedly.

“Tt. You can't truly expect me to believe such an obvious lie–”

“Just drop it, Damian!” He finally snaps, taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose while resolutely ignoring the stab of guilt in his gut. “...Bad day.”

“I… see.” Damian turns to his own bike, throwing his leg over. Jason takes a moment to steel himself before doing the same, pushing through every instinct and every thought protesting the idea of returning to the manor to do just that.

The ride there is hot and dry, even with the summer wind whipping Jason's face. It almost feels dusty, or maybe ashy? There was a big fire somewhere in the city the night prior– not anywhere close to the club he was laying low at– but the effects from a fire like that would be felt city-wide. Must've been put out, if Damian is here to pick him up and now that he thinks about it, was definitely smelling of smoke. Really, the whole city does right now. 

Aka, literally everything terrible for his throat that can happen right now is happening right now. All he's missing is actually being in the fire.

Well, the day's still young, the sun just barely cresting the horizon. There's a nonzero chance he ends up in one.

This is Gotham, after all.

Anxiety twists his stomach into knots as they roll into the secret entrance to the Cave, motorcycle engines roaring quite a bit louder now that he doesn't have the helmet to muffle the sound echoing in the tunnel. Once it opens into the cave, he's almost surprised to see the whole family there until he remembers they probably just returned from patrol. Based on the fact that everyone's still in their suits, he'd wager he's right.

Jason parks his bike in his usual spot, which also happens to be the closest spot to the entrance. The Cave, usually smelling of bat shit and the cold, thick scent of cave water, now seems to be choked with the residual smells of the fire they were surely fighting just an hour prior.

Awesome. Great. Amazing. He can already feel it clogging the back of his throat, sending his ability to speak even further out of reach.

Surely he won't need it for a fucking conversation, right?

Right.

Jason struts over before Damian can, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow expectantly at the various sets of eyes on him.

“Well, I think it's clear we found the culprit–” Tim starts, before Jason raises a hand, turning his glare to the group of Bruce, Dick, and Cass.

Dick clears his throat. “I think it's safe to say an apology is in order,” he begins. “I'm sorry for jumping the gun, little wing. We should have listened to you.”

Cass nods in agreement. “Yes. I am sorry. Too fast. Ignored words.”

Jason watched with scrutiny, looking for any sign of a lie. When he finds none, he turns his glare to Bruce…

…who isn't even facing him. He's faced towards the Bat Computer, typing away at something on the screen. Jason's jaw ticks, watching the man quietly click away with laser-like focus for a solid thirty seconds before he turns to the rest of his family incredulously. Sparks of anger start to overpower the nauseous anxiety from before.

After another bit of waiting Jason loses his patience and flicks the gun with live ammo out of its holster– levels it at the screen– and fires off a shot. Cracks spider web across the monitor and it goes out, the lack of blue glow making the cave that much darker.

All this before anyone can move fast enough to stop him.

The silence of the normally cacophanous family following the resounding gunshot is heavy. Bats flutter and chitter overhead, leathery wings flapping indistinctly. Steph, Tim, and Dick watch with wide eyes as Bruce spins slowly in the chair. Cass and Alfred watch impassively, seeming unfazed, or, more likely, too good at hiding their true feelings. Damian is the same, but Jason doesn't miss the way his shoulders stiffen and his posture straightens. Everyone is tense, ready to interfere if necessary.

Maybe that should say something about the situation.

Jason dismisses it, just like he dismisses the lingering pain from the injuries he got during that chase and the way his heart climbs into his throat as Bruce slowly stands, glaring at him.

“That was an expensive monitor,” Bruce growls, all Batman in anything but mask. Jason just scoffs, holstering the gun and resuming his previous stance, keeping most of his weight on his toes, just in case. “You will pay for the replacement.”

Jason just raises an eyebrow, humming a sarcastic agreement that makes it very clear he will be doing no such thing. Hums are safe enough, he thinks. They hurt his throat like hell but they sound normal enough.

Bruce seems to accept it, because he continues to talk. “With the chaos of the fire, Firefly got away. You will be relegated to finding her. Once you do, call for backup prior to engaging so we can ensure another large fire is started before she is apprehended.”

Jason blinks.

Blinks again.

Then barks out a laugh. 

It's loud, and painful, and cracking, and doesn't carry a single ounce of humor. He doesn't miss the way several of the surrounding audience members flinch at the sudden 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason practically wheezes, barely louder than a whisper in his bafflement.

“What was that?”

Bruce's voice distracts him from his moment of sheer incredulity. 

“I said, are you fucking kidding me?” Jason repeats louder, forcing the words out despite how it sends stabs of pain through his throat. His scar itches uncomfortably under the skin-tight turtleneck shirt he wears.

Bruce's eyes furrow, but it's Dick who speaks up. “Are you okay?”

“Fucking peachy,” Jason grinds out. “I'm here for the apology, old man. Get it over with so I can leave.”

“I summoned you here to coordinate your efforts to help the city with ours seeing as the suspect proving your innocence was apprehended.”

“Oh, that's just fucking rich.” His head snaps to Steph, who approaches him with a water bottle like she'd approach a wounded animal on the streets. He glances down at it, then at her, before forcefully relaxing his shoulders and taking it with a grunt of thanks. She nods, clearly trying to hide her concern and failing miserably. He appreciates it nonetheless.

Bruce turns back to the Computer, looking at all the other monitors. “I recommend starting in the Diamond District. That's where she was last seen. Oracle will send you the coordinates.”

Jason savors the last sip he takes before responding.

“No.”

Even the bats go quiet. The silence grows heavier, tension so thick you could cut it with a fucking butter knife.

“I gave you an order,” Bruce growls. Jason bristles, hands clenching at his side instead of twitching for his trigger like they want to.

“I'm not your good little soldier, B! I'll do what I want, whenever the fuck I want, because you don't fucking control me and you need to get it through your thick fucking skull!”

His voice grows to a hoarse, crackling crescendo before it finally breaks and sends Jason into a violent coughing fit that wracks his body, pulling at the stitches he so carefully sewed into himself. At some point someone– Steph, he thinks, by the purple fabric swaying on the edges of his vision– comes over to rub his back and takes the water out of his hand so he can rub his scrubbed-raw throat.

“Okay, I think we need to bench this conversation for today,” Tim cuts in, closer than Jason last remembered. Huh.

“No,” Jason croaks, glaring briefly at the small splatter of blood on his hand before wiping it away.

“Seriously, Jay, I think we need to get your throat looked at–”

Jason just growls his dissent, and woo that did not help.

“If you are to work with this team, you will listen to the orders you are given.”

“Fat fucking chance,” he hisses, something metallic making a small pool below his tongue.

“Okay, no, you're getting your throat checked out,” Dick cuts in, getting between Jason and Bruce to put his hands on the farmer's shoulders. “Little wing, what happened? I know we didn't do that.”

Jason laughs, the sound grating on his throat until a little blood dribbles out from his lips. “You wanna know what fucking happened? He slit my fucking throat, that's what happened, Dick! He slit my throat with a goddamn batarang and he left me to fucking die! He took the Joker and he ran without so much as a glimpse back at his supposed “son”!”

He falls into another coughing fit after that outburst that makes him fully double over, various bodies helping keep him up while trying not to encroach too far into his personal space. He takes the water from Steph's stiff hand, chugging it once he has the breath to do so. 

“I'm done, Bruce. I'm done with you. So you can fuck right off with your orders and all that bullshit. From now on, I'm cleaning up Gotham in a way that actually fucking works.”

There are a few moments of silence, where no one seems to know what to say.

“...Is that true?” Tim finally asks quietly, so painfully genuine and so close to the edge of scared. It almost makes Jason regret saying what he did.

“Father?” Damian prompts, voice so steely he knows the boy is hiding his true emotions behind a well-built wall around his heart.

Jason glares at Bruce, who simply looks back with a stone-cold expression of… disappointment? The resounding silence is telling.

“Babs, find the cowl footage,” Dick orders, grip turning tight on Jason's shoulders. Whether that's in an effort to keep Jason there or to keep himself there, he doesn't know. “Sound off.”

It's only a minute or so later the video is pulled up on the second biggest monitor (seeing as Jason shot the first one). Jason keeps his (no doubt glowing) gaze on Bruce, watching for any sort of tell, any sort of twitch that betrays his emotions.

It's also so he doesn't have to see the Joker or his own pathetic face staring back at him. He doesn't want to know what Bruce saw.

When the others gasp, stiffen, or have some other sort of outward reaction, he knows they've seen it. The moment Jason still has nightmares about and is the predominant reason he wears turtlenecks whenever he goes out.

Meanwhile, Bruce remains stoic. Silent. Stony, cold, and not a hint of fucking remorse.

Dick shakes, Jason suddenly notices. Not with fear, not with sobs, but with rage. A type of rage Jason has seldom seen on his golden-boy face. His breaths are controlled, but heavy, and– oh shit.

In a flash of movement, Dick is in front of Bruce and cracking his knuckles across the man's jaw– no one moves to intercept him. Bruce crashes to the ground under the force of that one hit.

“You could have killed him! You nearly did!” Dick shouts, all rage in his taut-as-a-bowstring form. “He is your son! I know you're an emotionally repressed piece of shit but what the absolute fuck was going through your head?!”

Bruce rubs his jaw before answering. “He was supposed to drop the Joker to move out of the way, so I had the opportunity to catch him off guard to apprehend him.”

Dick takes a deep breath. “What then, Bruce? You just cart your own son off to Blackgate? Arkham? Would you stick them in the same transport truck too? Just put your son– my little brother in the same place as his killer?” He scoffs out a laugh, more out of disbelief than anything else. “Of course you would. Because the mission always comes first. I should have fucking guessed something happened that night when you came here and scrubbed the footage from the main uploads.”

Jason watches the interaction with wide eyes, something warm curling inside him. Shit, maybe Dick actually did mean what he said before.

“I do not wish to reside here any longer,” Damian announces, though not nearly as dramatic as he usually would. He sounds disappointed. He sounds betrayed. He sounds a little more like the kid he should sound like at his age. “Someone who would so callously throw away the life of his son is not one I can trust in the field or in my own home any longer. Thus, my home shall be elsewhere.”

“Yes. You have broken trust,” Cass finally pipes up, looking down at Bruce from her perch.

“Yeahhh! Fuck Batman!” Steph cheers in vindication. “You always were an asshole, old man.”

Tim shoots her a little grin, before turning back to Bruce. “This isn't your city anymore, Bruce. I don't think it ever really was. Not after this.”

Jason looks around in wonder at his siblings all standing with him. Tears prick the corner of his eyes. He looks back down at Bruce, who, with the threat of Dick Grayson still standing over him, hasn't moved to get up. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to stop him from speaking.

“Operating outside my purview will be grounds for me to apprehend you,” he warns. Jason grins, all sharp teeth and malice.

“I ran circles around you for months back when I was seventeen. Between all of us, you'll be lucky if you even get a glimpse.”

“And don't think I'm on your side with this either,” Babs chimes in from the Bat Computer speakers. “This is vile, Bruce. You broke your rule on your own son. Good luck attempting to even leave your cave.”

“I'll be back to pick up Dami's and Tim's things. If you want to walk around with that playboy face you so cherish, I don't suggest showing it while I'm here,” Dick snarls before turning around. “Alright, everyone, let's get going.”

Together, they pile onto their various vehicles, but Jason hesitates when he sees Alfred waiting by his bike.

“I am sorry, my boy. I… I was not aware of what had occurred that night,” Alfred murmurs. “To think we came so close to losing you again…”

“It's– it's fine, Alfie,” Jason whispers, no longer willing to force his voice into anything louder. Alfred offers him a small, pained smile, handing him a small box.

“Drink this when you return home. It will help your throat.”

Jason smiles something genuine at that, nodding. “I'll keep in touch.”

“Indeed. I would expect nothing less.”

[mybelovedsylus]

Okay so I just wanted to write some fluffy fluff. I didn't proofread in the slightest so please forgive me. And if you enjoy it and want to stick around I would love to have ya - also feel free to message me any little ideas you'd like to see. I'm still newer to the game so pardon anything that doesn't feel true to the lore- I'm still playing through it all. I'm sure there will be more drabbles to come. Lastly, the more is just covering a poll I was physically unable to remove via my iPad so pls ignore that. Okay now enjoy.

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~

He was pissed. No pissed wasn’t even a word that could fully encompass the emotional turmoil raging through his veins. His fists clenched and unclenched over and over again, his evol pulsing in time with it. The excess energy was just ratcheting higher as the moments passed and the front door remained firmly shut. You were supposed to be back from the mission over two hours ago, and somehow you had also lost the tail he assigned to you. As the thought filtered through his mind he looked sharply to the left to throw a glare at Mephisto. What was the point of him if he couldn’t handle the most important mission he was assigned? In fact he was contemplating all the slow, painful ways that he could deconstruct said crow the door slammed open. His head whipped around to catch you stumbling through the door, and he was out of the seat in an instant. Times like this the evol came in handy as he was suddenly by your side, slipping his arms under you and hoisting you into a bridal carry.

“Why do you insist on testing Mephisto?”

“I come back black and blue and you’re more concerned with the surveillance experiment you call a pet,” you groan out, arms holding your middle. You swear at the sign of your discomfort Sylus’ own arms tighten to hold you closer to his body. You can also feel the cool caress of his evol as it slowly takes inventory around your body.

“I figure you would worry more if I started with the obvious concern about you,” he responded in a gruff whisper. Suddenly you wanted to lean into the nickname you were given, and curl up further into the warmth his body was giving off. He rewarded you with his plush mattress, but then tortured you pulling your legs out so you were laying flat on your back.

“What kind of sadist are you?”

“Usually you love it when I get you on your back,” he managed a slightly seductive tone on top of the obvious concern bleeding through. You groaned at that, attempting to roll away from him and burrow into the safe haven of the covers. Sylus simply tsk’d at you, dragging you back to the edge of the bed.

“Not so fast kitten, there are clearly some things that need to be addressed before I allow you the reprieve of sleep.”

“Fine, just get it over with,” you mutter, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out even the muted bit of light coming through. You can hear the soft laugh Sylus lets out at your dramatics. However, not looking meant there was no preparation for the sting of antiseptic in open wounds. My eyes flew open and I sat up quickly, a hairsbreadth away from hitting Sylus in the nose with my forehead.

“Holy fuck, warning?” You gasped out debating how far you would get with slapping the shit out of him- or at least slapping the smirk off his face.

“You told me to get it over with, figured I wouldn’t bore you with the details darling,” he responded with an overly innocent grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He brushed some of the hair of your forehead gently, and he pulled at the skin underneath assessing the cut that was dripping blood into your brow. That was quick to cause his smile to falter quickly, concern etching into the wrinkles forming along his forehead.

“You know you could have had backup if you wouldn’t be so adamant on shaking the crow,” he tells her, moving to clean the wound and place small bandaids to hold the cut together. The proximity to him dulled the sting. As he worked, she got to take in Sylus up close, the way he bit his lip as he focused, the way his eyes softened as he moved more hair out of your eyes, and how his eyes seemed to glow (without help of the aether) as his gaze dropped to hers. There was a hesitation, his hands coming up to cup your face before he leaned down and stole a quick, soft kiss. He pulled back slowly before leaning back in, a bruising kiss this time as his hand moved to tangle in your hair. His hand grazed against a lump forming on the back of your skull and you groaned.

“Right, not the time. You’ve just had me worried sick all night love.”

“But I got your intel,” I smiled sweetly at him, pulling him in for another kiss. Much softer than the one he stole just now, one that reassured him that I was right here, worse for wear but still here.

“It's a good thing I already have white hair.”

[clemelntine]

Heartkillers ep 10 uncohesive stray thoughts

With screenshots cuz I take to many and I'll feel like that's wasteful if I don't at least use them for a post

God, this scene reeks of codependency. But like in a good way, yknow. In an evidence of love way. They just don't want to be apart because they care. And I guess cuz they're scared they won't see each other again.

I love Fadel and his consistent morals. He'd been silent, letting Bison get his anger and revenge, cus that is not his main thing, but as soon as he hears any word of deciet or lies, he's right on his feet getting involved.

Yeah that checks.

I have to wonder, tho, if Lilly is a poisoner, why were Fadel and Bisons' parents shot? And why would she train them with a gun instead of the weapon she know best?

That's not the unbelievable part dear. She seems very capable of all that. Look at what she made you do

Acting like some housewives worrying about their husbands away at war or some shit.

Imma be real with you. I wasn't paying attention for a bit, and I read this as "Why don't you try and top Fadel?" and I got a little hopeful for a bit.

We've got a comeback from the -two rings on one finger, no other jewelry- look from style. Love this energy.

For anyone wondering, the first time we saw this was in episode 6 when he was out drinking with Kant, so it might just be what he wears when he goes to get drunk with his buddy. Guess there aren't too many occasions for a mechanic to wear a mid finger index ring. It tends to get in the way a lot when moving (like manual labor). And if you dont wear a ring often, choosing to wear no other jewelry to make your specialty ring pop makes a lot of sense.

Sorry, I looked too deeply into that.

Lillys actress is so stunning. The discomfort and distaste on her face is so subtle but to perfect.

Oh, drama, Keen already knows about (one of) their lovers and tried to kill him. I wonder why he used a gun, tho. The only flashback/scene we saw of them pre assassin, while training, was to show that Keen was a worse shot than Bison and Fadel. Did he improve or was the reason he missed (only hitting styles arm, not killing him) because he still has bad aim.

Also, could the tattoo be Kants' work? It kinda reminds me of his spiderweb arm tatoo, but that doesn't mean its his style (he might not have done his arm one himself), so who knows, maybe they know each other, maybe they don't.

Fucking romantic loser, holy shit. He couldn't see gay people without thinking of his boyfriend

That's not something to be fucking proud of cassie

Nr. 1 god his hair looks fucking good like this

Nr. 2 Mister poetry over here, annoying piece of shit with his lovey dovey words

Ofc Style would instigate a cheer, like this is a cheersquad and not a murder operation

I really need him to stop mentioning it all the time, like he is proud of it or something

Oh, uniform kink. Interesting

Okay, I kinda feel bad for Keen now. Nobody seems to care about him (except Thanon ig, I hope nothing bad happens to him). Lilly didn't even care enough to use him.

Also, jesus Fadel, you're brothers. You've never put in even an hour of effort to ask about his day or some shit, rude. (I get that they are all just a product of Lillys creation but but this seems a lil excessive)

With the tattoos. That is quite a bold plan. There is like a 50/50 change they (rich ladies) are put off by the tattoos. Guess some might see it as an adventure and be into it. It's still a gamble.

Also like how does he know golfing, tho? Had he golfed before, or is Kant just good at improvising, because he looked quite knowledgable.

The way he has lowered himself to look up at her through his lashes, the fucking bitch. Once again using First height for storytelling. This time, Kant has lowered himself to make Lilly feel like she is above him and in control.

Idk if she is open-minded or if she could just smell the gay on him.

Ahw, he cares. Does he expect Keen to do that, tho? Like Fadel knows that he already tried to kill Style and has shot him. He doesn't seem likely to suddenly care about the wishes of his brother, who doesn't even care about him.

Not too sure what it means but i just noticed that Fadel has his whole head and neck angled up while Styles face is pointed to the front and he is just looking up with his eyes, through his eyelashes.

Maybe it's to show that Fadel is more confrontational while Style is more scared of Keen.

Oh, calling his bluff, cute. I dont remember if Fadel backed down when Bison pointed his gun at Style but if he did (i think so) that contrast shows very well how succesfull Lilly has been in driving them apart by making them all think Keen is less capable (mostly because she just didnt let him train)

Ofcourse he has to brag, has to lay out his success (he could have kept it to himself to use it for longer, but whatever, guess he expects to take him out right here, right now). Because Keen doesn't actually have any negative feelings towards Fadel (except maybe jealousy), he mostly just wants to prove himself to be capable. Even though he is holding the gun, it is Lilly who has her finger on the trigger. Without her constant critique, he would have felt the need to do all this. It's really her words that are driving Keen to do this, not Fadel (and Bisons) actions.

Yeah, and i feel like Keen should know that. Doesnt he know about her killing Fadels boyfriend, and he knows she wants Style dead as well, he has all the evidence he needs to see that Fadel and Bison dont have any more freedom or happiness than he does, just more tasks.

The continual cutting to Style while they talk about Fadels ex probably has to tell us something, but i honeslty can't read that much off his face. Is he jealous?

You're telling me Fadel couldn't figure that out himself. Even if he didn't think about it too much then (too sad or something), now with this new info he has about her, it shouldn't come as that much of a shock. She killed your parents and is trying to kill your boyfriend. It is not odd to think this patern is connected.

The desparation in both his eyes, his words, and his voice; it's fucking heartbreaking

Squished Fadel, perfection

Styles speech was a lil akward, but he got his point across and he has never really been a poet before. The honesty, although clunky, makes it seem more vulnerable and true, more like Style

Fav scenes

Fadel and Bisons emotional breakdown in the abandoned building. Omg the feelings..

Kant golfing was very cute.

Kant and Bison in the empty pool. Shit was stunning.

Fadel and Styles last scene. Maybe I just like Fadel crying and strong emotions.

For anyone wondering about my statistics, I took a total of 180 screenshots. 81 of Fadel and or Style, 58 of Kant and or Bison, 10 of Keen, 8 of Bison and Fadel together, 7 of Reurat, 5 of Lilly, 5 of more than two characters in a shot, 3 of Kant and Style together, 2 of Lilly and Keen together, and 1 of Babe

[obvithe-bestsoph]

No. 27 | "Don't cry, I hate it when you cry." PG6

masterlist requests prompt list (if you request a prompt, please request a player for it as well!) warnings: none.

After yet another long day of work, you walk back through your apartment door and put your bag and coat on the hanger, tiredly wandering into the dining room and rubbing your eyes. You get the fright of your life, your boyfriend sitting at the table with a giant grin. After you calm down from the scare, you laugh slightly.

“Dios mío, Pablo. Some warning would’ve been nice.” He stands up and comes towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Lo siento (i’m sorry), I wanted to surprise you.” “Well, you definitely nailed the ‘surprise’ bit.” you chuckle, laying your head on his chest. “I cooked for you. Your favourite.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? Why?” “Why not?” he shrugs, “You’re my girlfriend, I love you, I wasn’t busy, and I assumed you would’ve had a long day, so I did something nice.” You smile slightly, “Of course you did. You’re too good to me.” “Just as good as you deserve. Now, sit.” he pulls out your chair for you and more or less forces you down into it.

A plate of (your favourite food) is put in front of you, and you grin up at Pablo. “Gracias, mi alma (thank you, my soul).” “De nada (you’re welcome).” “So how was training today?” you ask, looking at him as you both begin to eat. “Good, I think we’ll play well in the game on Wednesday. Speaking of, are you gonna be able to come?” “I wish, and I hope so, but I’d have to ask my boss to finish an hour early. And when she’s the one approving it, there’s a very small chance it’ll actually happen. But if I can’t be there in person, I’ll be secretly checking the score on my phone under my desk.” you smile weakly, you really are sick of your nightmare of a boss. Pablo frowns. “How come everyone else’s leave always gets approved, but never yours? How come she always gives you more work than everyone else? Does she not like you or something?” You sigh and shrug, “Honestly, your guess is as good as mine. It sure seems like she doesn’t like me, but I have no idea why. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything wrong or made a mistake around her.” Pablo’s frown only grows. “I don’t understand why you even still work there, why can’t you just find another job? Hell, why can’t you just quit? I’ve told you before, I make more money than I know what to do with, it would literally be no problem if you stopped working, let me support you, and moved into my apartment with me.”

“Because I’d feel bad.” “Well, that’s stupid. Why?” “Just because. You don’t need to be paying for all my shit on top of all yours.” Pablo rolls his eyes. “You aren't a particularly expensive person, Y/N. You rarely even let me buy you anything. You insist on paying for your portion of meals and always buy me far too much for Christmas and my birthday, etc.” “Yes, because I’m your girlfriend, not your financial burden.” “Spoiling the love of my life every once and a while is hardly a ‘financial burden.’ You’re being ridiculous.” “I don’t want to argue with you, long story short, the answer is no. It’s just one annoying boss, nothing I can’t handle. And I’m fine with working.” Pablo scoffs and the room is silent for a few moments. “Look, I only suggest it because I love you, okay? I want you to just be able to come to my games, home or away, and not have to know about it 2 weeks before so you can apply for leave, only for it to be denied by that demon of a boss you have. I hate that you’re always exhausted on all our dates because you’ve had a long week, that you fall asleep so early that we never have time to do anything… fun… at night anymore. I just want you to be free and happy. Por favor? Para mi? (please? for me?)”

You look at him for a moment before looking down at your plate again. “I’ll think about it.”

Pablo grinned again, he knew that was more a less an ‘Okay, fine, you win.’

“Gracias. Te amo, mi vida (thanks. i love you, my life).”

Later that night, you guys were cuddled up on your couch, Pablo was watching the movie that was on the TV screen, and you were on your phone. Finally, he looked down. “What are you doing?” he asks curiously. You look up at him and grin. “Sending in my resignation notice.” His eyes go wide and he sits upright, “You’re kidding.” “Nope.” “Oh my god!” he breaks out into yet another grin, pulling you into a proper hug. “Thank you, thank you so much,” he whispers into the skin of your neck. “Why are you thanking me? It should be the other way around, you’re the one who’s basically retiring me early.” you smile, and Pablo chuckles lightly. Eventually, Pablo calms down from his excitement a little and watches over your shoulder as you finish typing out the email. “I can’t believe I’m seriously about to do this.” you say quietly, your finger hovering over the ‘Send’ button. “Neither, but I promise, you won’t regret it.” he presses his lips to the top of your head. A few moments go by, and you still don’t press the button. “Are you gonna send it, or what?” “Pablo, I’m scared,” you whisper, looking up at him, and he can see the worry and uncertainty in your eyes. His expression and tone soften, “Why?” “I don’t know… I just am.” “You don’t have to do this right now, you know?” “I know, but I want to.” “Then send it.” “I can’t.” “Well, that’s kinda stupid.” You thrust the phone into his hand. “You do it.” “You’re sure?” You nod. Pablo hits send, and just like that, you’ve quit your job. You stare at the ‘Sent’ message for a moment before bursting into tears, burying your face into Pablo’s chest. He shushes you gently, rubbing your back and repeatedly kissing the top of your head, before eventually pulling your head away so he can look into your eyes. “Don’t cry, I hate it when you cry. What’s wrong?” he asks gently. “I- I’m just so happy. Thank you, Pablo. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” you sniff, speaking shakily through the tears. “Anything for you, mi niña preciosa (my precious girl).” he murmurs.

“I love you.” “I love you too, más que nada (more than anything).”

[auguryofjellyfish]

random day 25 thoughts let's go

another otherwordly Tetro Friday? what's with chap 4, I swear, so far it's been a stream of endless bangers.

first of all, I hope Hiroaki and Tamba had a good day 😭 it was strange to not see Hiroaki at all....

[Oyasumi]

is that a goddamn Omori reference?? naw, it's not, but that's where everyone's mind went first and mine as well lol.

Oyasumi, oyaaasumi, close your eyes and you'll leave this dream....

normally something like this would make me worried, but honestly? i'm not. because Wada is not going to die. I'm not even considering the possibility. he's going to be okay. he might suffer but he's definitely going to make it. i'm not even scared of his death at all cause it's not gonna happen (except if they kill everyone in endgame). if he survived chapter 3, he can survive anything.

either way....such a sweet episode <3 loved the amount of focus Wada is getting like, THAT'S MY GOAT!!! I LOVE WADA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! please give him all the love and hugs.

HE'S NOT EATEN FOR 3 DAYS!! ?!??! Wada...i thought he'd not eat one day at a time, but, three...? no wonder he's crashing again. if the starvation motive hits, nnnnn holy shit but no he's going to be okay. trust.

I still need time to fully process [Bruise] but good lord, while watching it made my chest feel so heavy it felt like it was caving in. fucking concave. just. Mai. Ojima. it was so painful and so heavy but, i was overflowing with pride for them both. they're so incredibly strong. i love Ojima sm....

[Refulgence Post Mortem]

he loved Kamimura. he loved him. he didn't need to say it at all. i just knew from the way he talked about him. the way his voice went soft, the fondness, the light amusement... how Kamimura was stubborn, argumentative, funny, smart, kind... he made him sound so special. he painted such a lovely picture with his words.... and he had so much to say about him. he thought and worried about him a lot, Kamimura was interesting to him (!!!!!) ..... I hope Kamimura at least could tell that Ken really really liked him...he probably did.

he didn't always care about what Ken was talking about but he cared enough to pretend, always...this just...just. Kamimura cared so fucking much too.

on one hand, this is kinda nice, because Ken would never say all of this to Kamimura, so if he were alive we'd never hear Ken gush about him... but jesus, I'd rather have him back....

he was worried about Kamimura because of his suicidal tendencies, and when it seemed like he wanted to live again, he was just so relieved... the depth with which he said that, I just. wow. I know... I KNOW!!! I KNOW HE WAS GETTING BETTER! I know, Ken...!

Ken was so proud of him. so happy for him, so moved. HE WAS TURNING HIS EYES TOWARDS THE FUTURE!!! he tried to end it so many times because life was an unchanging never-ending hell BUT the instant he felt like he might not be doomed forever after all, that he could have people who love him, that he could find a place for himself in this world once more, he wanted to try again, he wanted TO LIVE.

and then she took him away.

...what the fuck. what the fuck, it's not fair...it's not fair. i can't get fucking over this, i can't, i can't. i can't. fuck. me. fuck...i hate this...

...I've seen a lot of discussion on whether Ken is gonna die this chapter. it's still a little too early to say for sure, but in my opinion, nah. he doesn't seem like he'd be a victim right now. he is a little vulnerable, but frankly in these people's place I would be scared to go at him cause he's tall, strong and has nothing left to lose.

as for whether he'd kill...mmmnnnneehhh.......no...? not in chap 4 at least. he is in a really bad way, and that "she destroyed....everything." was so good, it sounded really dark and wrathful, but, yanno. i'm mostly just side-eyeing the "everything"...

if okazaki was somehow still alive i would def be concerned about him going for her head but lol. that's taken care of already. i guess it's not impossible for him to find another outlet for his anger, COUGH watari COUGH but still, he is more depressed than angry.

he said "there's nothing left." he still has his family but he can't even take them into consideration right now. that's what he truly feels- utter desolation. how could he have the motivation to plan a murder in this state? when he "lost everything"? i'd be much more worried if he continued with his total isolation arc but with this episode, he's not too far gone. just feeling overwhelming malaise. doesn't help that he's off his meds.

then again, we might be going back to unintentional murders, so it's not out of the question. it would just be weird for Ken to try to kill everyone on purpose??

also he won't try to kill himself people 💔 he won't. although.

i was 100% sure he wouldn't before this ep, and now i'm just a little less sure. 🙁

everything is gray now.

the biggest thing i took away from this week's episodes...I really...really don't want anyone else to die...I really don't. none of them. not Ojima. not Hayashi. not Hiroaki. not Wada. not Hasegawa. not Watari. not Tamba. not Yanagi. not Hama. none of them. i really don't want anyone to die anymore.

[moonylovegoodsposts]

Back To You | David!Clark Kent × Plus Size OC!

Wordcount: around 4K

Warnings: fluff, no use of Y/n (no matter how hard I try, I just can't get myself used to write using the Y/n thing, I'm so sorry about that!). Plus sized Oc, because why not? and Latina(Brazilian) Oc, because again, why not? Suggestive ending.

Oc! Lianna Torres

ps: guys I AM SO SORRY for being late with this one, I really lost myself. english is not my first language so im sorry for any mistakes.

faceclaim for Lianna Torres: Brianna Marquez (@/brimarqz)

I drop the last box on the porch, sighing as I watch the moving truck drive away. What trouble have I gotten myself into... actually, they have gotten me into. I love my family very much, but did they really need to leave me with... this?

Okay, let me explain. My grandmother died a while ago and, well, like every decent American, she had a will. What I didn't expect was that I would be forced to leave Brazil to inherit a farm that is falling apart. She hadn't lived here for a good few years when her illness began to take over, so the farm was left empty and the animals were given to someone who could take care of them, probably to a neighboring farm, from what I remember.

I stare at the large wooden door, the key in my hand. I take another deep breath, walking to the door at once, turning the key, trying to get it to open. Well, as everything that is great can get better, what is shit can get worse too. "Shit!" I exclaim, kicking the door, more to try to relieve stress than to try to open it.

And I thought I was the favorite granddaughter...

I roll my eyes, my head falling forward and my forehead hitting the door. "Holy shit... Why didn't you leave this to Matthew, huh, Grandma?" I ask, as if she could hear me, wondering why she didn't leave it to my cousin, who lives, like, two hours away.

"Do you need help?" I hear a voice that makes me turn back to the entrance of the farm and see a ridiculously tall guy wearing a blue flannel shirt and jeans, standing in front of the porch steps. "Excuse me?" I ask, not understanding where the man came from. I look a little behind him and see a blue pickup truck parked at the entrance of the farm. How did I not hear him coming?

"My parents said you came to live here permanently, so I thought it would be a good idea to come and help you... and it's summer, I have nothing to do on my parents' farm, so..." he continues babbling, as he walks up the steps, looking nervous about something but only one thing goes through my mind: Who is this guy?

"Excuse me, who are you again?" I ask, very confused, making him stop on the last step, his expression changing a few times. "Do I look that different?" He asks with a smile, staring at me. I open my mouth to reply with some ironic shit, but my brain freezes when I finally recognize the bright blue eyes. "Clark?"

It all seems to make sense now. I mean, why on earth would a random guy show up at my grandmother's door? Which is now my house...

Clark and I used to play together when I came here, in the summer when I was a kid. And sometimes in the winter too. And not just when we were kids...

I watch him smile and climb the last step. "I thought you forgot..." he says, pulling me into a tight hug that I return. "You look different, but I could never forget you!" I say, pulling out of the hug and he walks to the front door, touching the doorknob.

"It's stuck, you won't be able to open it that easily..." I say, trying to warn him, but when I see him he's practically broken down the door. "What the..." I stare at him, who seems to have made the minimum effort to open that door while my toes are still sore from the kick I gave him. "Ladies first" he says, gesturing for me to enter the house and I do. My heart skips a beat as the first wooden plank creaks beneath my feet.

The house is in a state of disrepair, that's for sure. Cobwebs are the least of it. All the furniture is falling apart and the musty smell is unbearable. All the wallpaper is peeling and everything is a mixture of mud, dust and bugs. I reach for the light switch, trying to turn on the light. The light stays on for a total of five seconds before the bulb simply explodes into sparks. "Shit."

"Okay, so... we have a lot of work to do..." Clark says, crossing his arms beside me and I glare at him "You don't have to..." I try to argue but he interrupts me "I'm not going to let you take care of this house alone. Are we going to start now or not?" He says, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

Oh my God, when did his arms get so... huge...?

Holy shit, Lianna. Focus!

"Okay, let's go..." I say, taking off my own jacket, throwing it over some boxes outside.

_

I sigh, sitting on the porch steps, trying to regulate my breathing. Most of my boxes are still outside and it's already the third day, but every hour there seems to be a new problem with the house.

Why does it have to be me?

The sound of the pickup truck pulls me from my thoughts. I see Clark getting out of the truck in his boots, jeans, and green flannel shirt.

I've really been away for too long... when did that teenager I knew get so...

I guess I'm thinking too much. I'm definitely thinking too much, thinking so much that I almost didn't notice the clump of white fur getting out of the truck and running towards me. The dog circles me, smelling me and wagging his tail, stopping in front of me, tongue out, as if smiling. "Oh, hi!" I greet the dog, my hands going behind his ears, the look in his eyes bringing back memories of my teenage years. "Wait, is that Krypto?" I ask Clark, who approaches the porch.

"That's him!" He sits down next to me, his hand stroking the dog's head. "Wow! He's what? 15 years old?" I look at Clark, seeing his blue eyes looking between me and Krypto, stuttering a little "Yeah... yeah, I think so... about 15 years old, yeah..." he says, coughing a little, looking a little nervous. "Uhm, my mom sent this" He hands me a paper bag "for your lunch".

"Oh, she's so sweet!" I smile, taking the bag "I miss her!" I say, looking inside the bag, the incredible smell of food reminding me that I didn't have breakfast.

"She misses you too, she asks me every now and then if I've heard from you..." He looks at me as if he wants to talk about something that I know exactly what it is. "I'm sorry I disappeared... life got a little more complicated when my dad died and coming back here..." I try to explain myself, but Clark puts his hand on mine, interrupting me. "It's okay... I mean, you could have sent me an update, but you're okay, that's what matters," he says, looking into my eyes.

I take a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of his hand on mine and those sky-colored eyes staring at me.

"I wish I had called..." I say, a feeling of not having done what I should have taken over me "written, I don't know... sent you an update..." I laugh, without any humor. "I didn't call either..." Clark says, shrugging, but looking at me with a little guilt in his eyes "I could have called..." he says, intertwining his fingers with mine, looking at the rain that has started to fall.

"Things were as they were supposed to be..." I say, letting my head fall to the side, resting it on his shoulder, smiling when he rests his head on mine.

"What do you think about changing that wallpaper? It's kind of cheesy, right?" He suggests completely changing the subject, in that way he always did to distract me from difficult subjects. "That would be great!" I chuckle, leaning into his touch.

_

"So, I brought the best ones I could find..." Clark says, entering the house with many rolls of wallpaper. Many. "There's this blue one and there's this one with flowers..." he shows me "I think you'll choose the one with the flowers, but I needed to bring the blue one in case you changed your taste in prints..."

I laugh, looking at him, finishing sweeping the dusty floor. I put down the broom and walk over to him, looking at the options he brought me. He really knows me well. He still knows me well. I smile, picking up one of the rolls of wallpaper with a white background and flowers in pink, blue and violet. "I loved this one!" I say "Thanks, Clark!".

"You're welcome! I'll return the blue ones to the store later..." he says, dropping the box of blue wallpaper on the porch. "You're amazing, you know that?" I say when he stops in front of me, holding the box with all the rolls of wallpaper in one hand. He smiles at me, with that smirk as he says: "You've told me that a few times..."

I can barely contain the smile that tries to appear on my face, as he places the box on the new couch, identical to the old one, but without rat piss. Krypto doesn't take long to climb on the couch, watching as we work, enjoying his nice little life. It's quite possible to say that Clark's more excited about this renovation than I am. He's been here every day for almost two weeks, without fail. I have nothing to complain about, but it's funny and gratifying to see how much he's dedicated to making this house at least decent.

I see him enter through the back door with a ladder, his perfect hair dragging on the doorframe and I notice that he slightly lowers his head to get through.

"So..." he begins, positioning the ladder on the wall near the door "my mother invited you to dinner at my house today..."

"Today?" I ask, incredulous. "Today." He answers me simply, as he begins to install the wallpaper.

Is it wrong to find the guy I've had a crush on since I was a teenager extremely attractive while he's installing wallpaper? Ah, the wonders of adult life...

"Oh, I..." I try to say, but he interrupts me. "You know she doesn't take 'no' for an answer, right?" I confirm, knowing this very well. "And also, she's already started thinking about the dinner menu, so..." he argues, leaving me with no way to refuse.

"I have nowhere to run, right?" I ask, just to confirm.

"No."

_

And here I am, standing at the Kents' door, wearing a dress. A dress! A white sundress with blue flowers. My God, I haven't worn a dress in years. I ring the bell next to the door, taking a deep breath. The door opens and I see Clark on the other side, smiling, wearing his denim jacket and the white t-shirt underneath, and his glasses askew. "Hi! You're early!" He smiles, making room for me to pass. "My mom's in the shower and my dad's out back finishing fixing the back door." I walk into the house, slightly embarrassed to be back after so long. "I brought this..." I hand the dish to Clark, "I didn't have much time to make something better, so I made it with what I had at home..." Clark takes the container from my hand, removing the cloth from the top, revealing the sweet treat my mom taught me to make. "Lily, you didn't have to..." he begins with a smile forming on his lips and I feel a shiver down my spine hearing my old nickname come out of his mouth after so long. "I did need it, Clark. I wasn't going to show up here empty-handed." I smile "It's called 'pudim', it's typical in Brazil..."

"You're amazing, you know?" He smiles, taking the pie to the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow him. I close the front door behind me and head to the kitchen. "You've told me that a few times..." I smile, watching him finish setting the table.

There's still a small feeling of being home hidden in my chest. Everything seems as comfortable as I remember, the couch in the same corner as always where Clark and I used to watch all the cliché Christmas movies and romantic comedies – because he always let me choose what to watch.

"So..." he approaches me, drying his hand on a dish towel "here hasn't changed at all, has it?"

"Even the couch is in the same place... it seems like it was yesterday..." I say, trying not to sound too nostalgic.

"It really does!" I hear a familiar voice at the kitchen door and turn around, finding Martha, smiling, coming to hug me. "Martha, I miss you so much!" I hug her back, smiling.

"I was so happy when I found out you were moving here for good! I called Clark right away, he was in Metropolis, putting off coming to spend the break here!" she says, ignoring her son. "Mom..." Clark says, a warning and a little embarassment implied in his voice. I look at him, curious, since he had made me understand that he was already here.

"Lianna! My God, you're such an adult!" Jonathan appears next to Clark, smiling at me, repeating Martha's action when she hugged me. "The last time I saw you, you were wearing glasses and pigtails!" he says, not even humorously, making me laugh. "That's true!" I agree. "Thank God for contact lenses!"

"Come on, let's sit down and eat!" Martha gestures to the table. "Mom, Lianna brought a typical Brazilian dessert, it's called 'pudin'." He says, with his cute American accent. "Pudim." I correct him playfully, emphasizing the 'm' with my Brazilian accent.

"Pudi-m..." he tries again, making me laugh. "Almost that..."

We finally sit down to dinner, Clark in front of me, next to his father and his mother next to me.

Dinner goes by peacefully. There's never a lack of conversation with the Kents, even after so long. His parents ask me how things are going in Brazil, how my mother and brothers are doing, what I do for a living, if I like what I do. That's the kind of thing you talk about when you haven't seen each other for many years.

"I'm a journalist..." I say, as Martha cuts a piece of the pie she made, placing it on a plate with the dessert I brought. "Are you a journalist too?" Jonathan asks me. "I am! I used to work in audiovisual journalism in Brazil..."

"That's really cool!" Clark says, picking up his own plate of sweets that his mother placed on the table, "Do you have a job around here yet?"

"Not really... I dropped everything to come and take care of the farm..." I say, taking a bite of the pie.

"That's really nice of you..." Martha says, "We kept some of your grandmother's horses when she got sick... the cows went to another neighbor, but they're all well taken care of!"

I look at all of them, sighing in relief, "That's good to hear! I admit I was worried about the little animals, I loved them!"

"I remember! I even thought I was going to be a vet..." Clark says. "I almost was... but I don't think I would have..." I laugh.

The evening continued as pleasantly as before. Clark's father was the first to leave while Clark and I worked together, washing and drying the dishes. His mother tried to stay a little longer but soon followed her husband, claiming that she no longer has the same energy as before. Clark and I finished putting away the dishes and I was ready to leave when he took two bottles of beer from the fridge and handed me one, inviting me to stay a little longer.

And here we are. On the roof of the Kent house. Looking at the stars. Just like when we were teenagers and used to go up here, sneaking drinks from the adults. Now we are two adults and it's so weird to think about.

"Can you believe that nowadays we don't have to smuggle a bottle of beer here anymore?", I ask, breaking the comfortable silence between us. "I was thinking the same thing!" he says, letting out a laugh.

I hear a few small pops and look to the side, seeing Clark sitting down, resting his arms on his knees, staring at the trees behind the house. I sit down too, trying to adjust my dress to cover my thick thighs. Damn, this is why I don't wear dresses!

"Is everything okay?" he asks, seeing me struggling with the dress. "It's okay, it's just... that's why I don't wear dresses... I'm too big for them..." I say, taking a deep breath, finally managing to keep the skirt in place and I see Clark frowning. "I think it looks great on you..." he compliments and I can't help but laugh humorlessly. "I know it doesn't." I reply. "I guess I was trying to impress, or something... I don't know..." I say, laughing at myself, taking a sip of beer.

"I think you should wear it more often..." he says, looking at me with an intensity I haven't seen in a long time. "You look beautiful..." he smiles with that sideways smile, his blue eyes staring deep into my soul, and that's enough to make my heart beat faster, as if I were that teenager again.

He looks forward again, as if coming out of a trance, shaking his head a little, his curls bouncing cutely. I turn back to the front, staring at the trees and the stars. "Thank you..." I say, "For helping me with the house... and for the compliment, too..." I lower my head, trying to hide my flushed cheeks. "I think you're the only person who can compliment me so... openly...".

"I just told the truth." I see him shrug, taking another sip of his beer and I look at him, searching for some sign of joking or lying in his eyes. Nothing. "You know, I missed you in the summers. And in the winters too..." he admits, leaving the bottle leaning against a tile.

"I missed you too." I confess, hugging my legs, feeling the cold night breeze chill my bones. "You were by far the best company to spend the holidays with..." I smile without showing my teeth, remembering the chaos that the holidays became as soon as all the grandchildren arrived at the Farm.

"I guess I can say the same thing... your cousins ​​were very..." he smiles, unfolding a blanket he brought when we went upstairs. "Chaotic?" I suggest, feeling him place the blanket over my shoulders, our faces being inches apart for a few seconds, making me hold my breath until he was back in his place.

"Yeah... 'chaotic' is a great description for them..." he laughs. "I'm glad it's just you now... I can visit you without fear of leaving all covered in paint..." he remembers one of the last summers I spent here, when my twin cousins ​​played a prank on him. Well, the victim wasn't really him, but rather anyone who walked through the door at that time, and well... Clark was the first. "Maybe I'll call Fred to help me prank you, one of these days..." I laugh, teasing him a little.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll love that!" Clark says sarcastically, making me laugh even more, and I barely notice the way he's staring at me.

I take a deep breath, wrapping myself even tighter in the blanket, and my heart skips a beat when Clark keeps staring at me in that intense way he's had before.

Something in his gaze reminds me of the last time I was here. On this roof, just the two of us. The first time we kissed. I almost let out a laugh, a slight snort escaping my nose as I look straight ahead, avoiding his gaze.

They always say that the first kiss is always bad, and... yeah, it kind of was. We came up here, smuggling some cheap liquor I found at my grandmother's house. We were trying to get away from my cousins, obviously, but we ended up drinking too much and kissed. And it was really weird. We got down from the roof, and he took me home without saying a word. The next day, when I wasn't drunk anymore, I could barely go to town with my grandmother to go shopping, afraid of running into him and afraid that he would never want to look at me again because of that horrible kiss. But of course, Mrs. Celina dragged me with her to the market and made me hold all the bags while she picked out the things. That's when Clark showed up to save the day, as he always did. He helped me with the bags and walked us to our farm. And then, when my grandmother came in, he kissed me again, at the front door. Infinitely better than the day before, I must say.

"What's wrong?" I hear his voice next to me, pulling me out of my trance of memories. "Nothing..." I answer with a smile, but he raises his eyebrow, not accepting my answer. "It's just..." I start, looking at my hands holding the blanket "I was remembering...".

"First kiss?" he asks, his eyebrow raising a little higher and I suddenly feel so shy around him. "Yeah..." I say, looking straight ahead again.

I hear a laugh beside me but I don't dare look at him, the embarrassment making my skin flush.

"I always remember that when I come here... and I come here a lot..." he says, looking down, his arms resting on his knees, his tone almost like a confession. "I think... maybe I missed you more than I care to admit." he says, his voice almost in a whisper, as if he were saying it only to himself. But I hear him, and I look at him, my eyebrows furrowed and my gaze too curious, too hopeful, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn't. He just stares at the roof, as if he's said enough for now.

"Me too." I admit. It's not a lie. In fact, it's the honest truth. "I love Brazil, but spending my vacation there, alone, isn't the same... and by alone I don't mean without my cousins..." I say, a small laugh escaping, but my smile slowly disappears when he looks at me again. Those bright blue eyes. "I missed you. A lot." He presses his lips together in a thin smile, playing with the empty beer bottle in his hands. The subject seems to disappear between us, but it's not an unbearable silence. It's actually quite pleasant. In fact, everything is quite pleasant around Clark. I used to think it was all in my head, from when I was a teenager, but... the feeling is still the same.

I take a deep breath, staring at the stars, imagining what it would be like to fly among them, as if all the weight of my body were null. I smile at the idea of ​​a small and light body, as if it were even funny. Me, small and light.

"It must be cool, right?" I ask, out of nowhere, still looking at the stars, and Clark looks at me with a question mark on his face. "Flying," I clarify. "Like Superman. Being so powerful that you can just jump and fly around... or being so light that your body simply floats near the stars." I say, smiling, but I can see the gears in his head turning and turning and turning.

"I wrote and directed a video journalistic report about him, you know?" I ask, more to tell him something I think he'd like to know. "Superman is a huge hit in Brazil, everyone loves him. That neat little hair, the blue eyes and the underwear outside his suit. The kids love it." I laugh, taking a last sip of my beer while looking at Clark.

He's still, staring at me. I frown at him, as if to ask "What's wrong?" But the gears in his head seem to keep turning. "Clark?" I call to him and he swallows hard, looking down and then back at me. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, sure, it's great!" he says, shaking his head and looking at me with a little smile. "It's just that you reminded me of an article I need to write about Superman too... but... but what about this video journalistic report of yours? Can I watch it any time?"

"Sure! Tomorrow, if you want I'll show you... speaking of which, it's getting a little late, right?" I ask, staring at the phone screen. "It's almost midnight... I think I should go..." I say, worried about the time.

"Oh, yes! Of course, it's late!" Clark agrees, standing up, offering me his hand and I gladly accept, following him slowly, avoiding making too much noise on the tiles.

He goes down the stairs first, reaching the grass. I go down soon after, foot by foot, step by step, suspicious of the old wooden stairs. But even so, I think I trusted him too much. When I was almost on the grass, with a few steps left, a damn nail broke, making the wood give way under my feet and all my balance disappear. My body falls backwards and I feel like it's in slow motion as I try to reach the stairs to hold on and balance myself, but at the same time, I embrace my fate that I'm going to fall backwards on the ground. I just close my eyes, waiting. But the thud never comes. In fact, there is a fall, but on two strong and enormous arms that are now surrounding me, somehow, saving me from falling on my ass. I open my eyes, wondering how and when Clark became so strong, but as soon as I open my eyes, I see him. His eyes. So close. After so many years.

He puts me back on my feet, without any apparent effort, but he continues to hold my waist. And now that I realize, I continue to grab his biceps – which I don't even remember how I started holding in the first place.

I let go of his arms, a little embarrassed by the situation, but his eyes don't leave me, they don't stop studying my face, and it may have been my imagination, but I'm almost sure I felt his hands squeeze my waist lightly, making me look into those eyes again and for a moment, I almost don't realize how close we are. I almost don't notice when he leans a little more towards me, and the way my body simply responds, even after so many years.

But it's impossible, impossible, not to notice when he presses our bodies together. The way his eyes wander to my mouth every now and then. The way our breaths mingle as the tips of our noses touch as we continue to lean into each other.

And it's almost otherworldly when he finally kisses me. When my eyes close as my arms instinctively wrap around his neck. And when his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer.

I almost let out a moan in the middle of the kiss when he tangles his fingers in my hair, angling my face better as the kiss gets deeper and deeper.

I don't know how long we stay there, or anything like that. I just know that we need to break the kiss when the need for air becomes greater. Our breaths, still mingled, and completely out of control, almost make me laugh. But nothing really matters to me now, when all I feel is wanting more.

More, more, more.

I tilt my face again, searching for more and he obliges. The kiss now feels more desperate, more passionate, more... hotter.

"I think you can stay here tonight..." He murmur against my lips and in a few seconds I feel his hands going down to my ass, squeezing a little and then going down to my thighs, making me wrap my legs around his waist, and I almost let out a little scream at the way he holds me so easily.

"Yeah, I think I can..."

[alongtidesoflight]

i swear my stepdad is so illogical AND stubborn it hurts

[eikichi-supremacy]

okay maybe an unpopular opinion but i think shiori shouldn't actually like hiei that much

[justalittlebluetiefling]

I haven't been involved with coaching for almost 3 months now and somehow I am still getting dragged into the drama.

[iangallagherisadeadman]

Don't you guys think it's fucked up when Fiona starts dating and sleeping out of the house, leaving Debbie, Carl and Liam kind of for themselves?

Once she started dating Mike she would sleep at his place sometimes which I think it's okay, she was paying the bills and would leave dinner ready and communicate Debs and she was still looking out for them, they had health care and she took them to the clinic and all that. She needs to take care of her, live a life, sleep at her boyfriend sometimes, that's fine and healthy. But then she marry Gus and is often out of there, get together with Sean and doesn't even know what's going on with them anymore (aka "why there's nothing to eat in the fridge" "cause no one is doing the shopping" dialogue with Debbie, not knowing when it's their first day at school, letting Sammy move in and run things after her trailer got fucked by Frank), and then she gets her apartment and moves out completely and like, okay, Ian was a EMT, Lip is a mechanic already I think, she did said she wasn't going to support Debbie after her pregnancy (fucked me thinks), Carl's at military school, but Liam is still a kid! And Debs and Carl are still underage! And they are her responsibility.

It just doesn't sit right with me that Liam didn't at least moved with her.

Specifically Fiona defenders, I would love to hear more about it.

[tackrusso]

i'm like i have nothing to be stressed about and then i'm having a breakdown in the car and then i'm like oh okay maybe i do have things to be stressed about