#so sick of seeing these shitheads everywhere

[thatweirdtranny]

god i hate trans people who don’t believe in transandrophobia like y’all really went and decided one specific group of trans people don’t face unique oppression and in that moment y’all lost sight of what it means to be a community. trans people who don’t fight for all trans folks are the reason why our community is so broken.

[tenjikyu]

𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ comedy, fluff and all things happy! reader and baji are twins and basically fight over chifuyu (who 100% has a fat crush on you)

❤︎ growing up, you and your twin brother keisuke shared almost everything.

❤︎ birthdays, bedrooms, toys and even friend groups! you and baji were inseparable and jumped at the chance to help eachother out when either of you needed it.

❤︎ so you’d never expect that the first thing they argued over would be a boy by the name of chifuyu matsuno.

❤︎ the day keisuke came home with the blonde in tow, you were out sick with a flu. you were peacefully chilling on the lounge, watching a movie when he barged in and asked his mother where the yakisoba was in the fridge.

❤︎ chifuyu had seen you around school already, despite it only being your first week there. you were popular almost instantly, girls and guys alike drawn to your eccentric aura and personality.

❤︎ chifuyu couldn’t deny the fact he wanted to get to know you better. he saw how you acted gently with the elderly and scolded any young kids tormenting others. he thought you were cool.

❤︎ so imagine his surprise when he saw you bundled up on the couch of his most respected.

❤︎ you FREAKED, to put it gently.

❤︎ you looked like total shit! you were nasally and in your stinky pjs that you had been sick in for the past 2 days! all the while in front of one of the most influential kids in the SCHOOL.

❤︎ chifuyu noticed your stiffened posture, and quickly offered you a gentle wave before going to follow keisuke.

❤︎ and from that day onward, blondie (your loving nickname for him) was a semi permanent addition to your household.

❤︎ he would come over almost everyday, greeting you and making conversation often. you would talk back, laugh and joke about baji together (well, it’s mostly you making fun of your brother, him throwing shit at you whilst chifuyu awkwardly giggles to himself).

❤︎ but, after almost 2 months of only really talking to him through your brother, you began to crave seeing him more often.

❤︎ why? you had no idea. all you knew is you started missing him more often, joking to keisuke about forcing him to stay the night in hopes he actually would.

❤︎ in the end though, he’d always return to his apartment a few floors down, insisting it’s no trouble making it back home.

❤︎ so, as any baji descendant would, you decided you’d take him by force.

❤︎ the weekend arrived, keisuke and chifuyu met up to go to the mall together, and once they made it you striked.

❤︎ you charged AND I MEAN CHARGED at chifuyu, scaring the SHIT outta the both of them, taking his hand and swiftly running away from your screaming brother. giggling loudly, you waved behind you in a mocking manner.

“H-HUH? (Y/N)?” chifuyu stammered out, holding onto your hand tightly and running with you despite not having a clue what was going on. you only laughed at him, making his cheeks flush ever so lightly

as the two of you continued, you could head the abrasive running behind the two of you.

“(Y/N) WHAT THE FUCK?? GIVE ME BACK MY VICE CAPTIN YOU SHITHEAD” you could hear baji screaming behind you two. in a fit, you yelled back:

“FUCK NO KEISUKE! MATSUNO IS MINE FOR THE DAY! LEARN TO SHARE ASSHOLE.” before laughing to yourself once more.

chifuyu flushed when you said he was yours for the day. he honestly didn’t expect you to be this intrested in hanging out with him. he honestly thought you only hung around him because your brother brought him everywhere.

alas, he keeps running with you, the both of you making quick turns before eventually taking refuge in a pet shop, watching keisuke run in the complete wrong direction.

❤︎ and so, as promised, you and chifuyu spent the entire day shopping around the massive mall. you went into store after store, trying on different outfits together before realising you’re both WAY to poor to afford the cute matching ¥11,000 shirts with a cool dragon design on it.

❤︎ you scoffed your faces with fast food in the massive food court, laughing and joking to eachother the entire time.

❤︎ you blabbed on about your childhood and growing up with your twin brother, talking about how much you really admired him and thought we was badass. chifuyu snickered before you promptly threatened him into not speaking a word of it all.

❤︎ of course, keisuke never gave up on finding you, so it was a massive game of cat and mouse around the mall before the both of you decided you’d had enough, heading back to the apartment complex.

❤︎ before you left, BECAUSE YOU AREN’T CRUEL, you let your brother catch up to the both of you, enduring his yelling the entire time home. he walked in front of the both of you, whining about the day you had ‘ruined’ for him and his partner, however you tuned him out completely.

❤︎ you only focused on how chifuyu hadn’t let your hand go the entire walk back to your units.

❤︎ making it back, the sun was finally falling. this time, you begged the boy into staying the night. of course, the blonde is a huge suck up to you and thus, the night ended with the three of you lying on keisuke’s bedroom floor, scoffing your faces and watching old VHS films.

❤︎ you fell asleep that night, leaning against his bed. you had keisuke on your left, his head on your shoulder as he snored loudly. chifuyu was on your right, his whole body against you with your arm wrapped around his schuldners, keeping him close to your chest.

❤︎ as you listened to the soft and noisy snores of your two most treasured people, you eventually succumbed to slumber of your own.

❤︎ maybe you can convince chifuyu to stay over once more, and maybe next time it could just be the two of you.

bonus:

❤︎ when the tree of you woke up, you found that keisuke had moved up to his bed at some point while you were OH MY GOD-

❤︎ face to face with the blonde (who wasn’t awake yet), you had him curled into your embrace with a blanket thrown over the top of you.

❤︎ yeah, waking up was pretty fuckin awkward.

[things-stankyle-probably-said]

Pssst you should totally tell us your take on Kyle with an ED🤭

well I really hate human centipad as an episode in general so in MY version of south park lore that episode doesn't exist because I don't like it, for one, for two I don't want my baby boy son to suffer the indignity of a human centipad or have the trauma of potentially being forever trapped eating shit or having facial scars yanno it's too upsetting I don't like it so in my headcanon that episode doesn't exist and that's not the basis for his ED

we don't accept it structurally and we don't accept it spiritually! but that's me. omg the actual ask!

my take is that kyle has a lot of other factors that lead into him developing an ED in his teen years that follows him into his adult life that requires years of therapy and medical help to get him to a place of recovery

you all know my headcanon for kyle is he's ftm trans, he's trans masc so his body dysphoria is a factor especially before he gets to start T, I see him not really liking the way he looks & feeling extremely uncomfortable in his own skin & seeing flaws everywhere, obsessing over any weight gain even when doctors tell him it's normal

his fatphobia is a factor, he unfortunately does connect a moral failing to people severely overweight (raising the bar) but cartman is his closest example to this and they're still kids in canon so I can see how easily he makes this connection and I'll say he grows out of it especially when stan gains weight because of taking antidepressants when they're older & kyle realizes he was wrong in his opinions

I do like the list as an episode so I'm saying kyle having developed a complex and low self esteem over his looks are also factors, yes he says at the end of the episode he doesn't want to know he's good looking and become a total shithead which fair, but even knowing the list was a forgery that's not something anyone could easily move on from, he's constantly doubting anyone that compliments him, thinking it's another trick

I think kyle in general as an overachiever that wants to be liked by his peers would be very concerned about his looks and attractiveness and his body type internally even while saying he doesn't care about that stuff, eventually he gets to a point where even if he can't see himself as good looking if enough of his peers agree that he's hot, that's good enough for him but then it turns into constant performance to be held to an idealized standard he sets

being sickly as a kid & only being able to eat or keep down certain foods, also a factor, I don't know enough about ARFID to say whether kyle has it or not, he is extremely picky when it comes to texture and he absolutely has safe foods but he doesn't eat as much as he should and getting sick easily means he doesn't have as much of an appetite as he would otherwise

honestly puberty in general fucks kyle up a bit I mean it fucks everyone up but he has such a complicated relationship with his face, his body, his gender, his peers, his self esteem, everything is just turned up to 11 in terms of how much it all affects him

playing basketball, getting on T, being an athlete and being the tallest in his friend group as he gets older helps a bit but it gets to a scary point that everyone can see he's struggling to eat and keep a healthy weight, he's always been skinny but it's concerning, and it leads to major health problems

his ED is anorexia that he develops over years, I can't see him being bulimic but that doesn't stop cartman from making horrible ED bulimia jokes directed at kyle, which stan gets more mad than kyle does when he hears them

I think kyle has to be hospitalized and has to get therapy and a lot of support to get the recovery he needs, he'll always be, not skinny but athletically toned like he Looks skinny but he's got muscle there even if it doesn't look like it and he will be happy with how his body is but it'll take a long time to get there

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When they reach his house, the first thing Dustin does is switch the shower on until the water runs hot, because Steve started shivering on the drive over, and Eddie kept glancing over at him in deep concern whenever he gave a more intense shudder, his wet clothes sticking to the back of his seat.

After agreeing to stay over, Steve had slipped into an eerie kind of calm, drifting upstairs to his room to get some dry clothes, doubling back for his toothbrush with a self-directed sigh of exasperation.

He’s quiet as Dustin shows him the shower dial, and even though he nods and smiles, at least, his eyes always land just to the left of Dustin, not quite looking at him.

Dustin tries not to let it sting.

He just blasts a hairdryer in his room to warm himself up, hasn’t got as drenched by the rain as Steve did.

He’s heading to the living room when he hears voices—

“…long has it been like this?”

—and stops.

“I—I don’t. Not. Not all the time.”

“So long enough then. What, are we talking weeks? Months?”

There’s a horrible silence.

“Oh, Steve. Fuck, man, don’t say it’s been years.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

Eddie’s voice wavers when he asks, “On your own?”, like he’s fighting tears. That’s just his way, Dustin thinks. Heart on his sleeve.

“Well. Yeah.”

Steve’s words are clipped, as if he’s irritated, but Dustin gets the feeling that it’s more Steve forcibly trying to stop anything more from spilling out.

“Eddie. Come on, don’t look at me like that.”

Eddie laughs, shattered at the edges. “Can’t control my face, Harrington, ‘fraid I can’t help you there.”

“I mean it, it’s not like—it’s not been that bad all the fucking time, you know? Just. Lately, it’s. Got worse.”

Dustin silently presses his back against the wall and sinks down to the floor. A part of him feels embarrassed that he’s eavesdropping like a little kid, but he can’t help it. If he reveals himself now, he has the sudden fear that Steve will stop talking for a long while.

Eddie breathes in. Out. “In what way?”

“Like. Nightmares and stuff.”

“So walk me through it?”

“Eddie…”

“What? Didn’t know I had the monopoly on sharing fucked up dreams.”

“It’s… I don’t remember all of them. Just… just the feeling when I wake up, it’s…” Dustin hears Steve take a shaky breath, muffled like his hand is briefly covering his mouth. “It’s spreading.”

“…Spreading?”

“I can’t stop it anymore.” Suddenly it’s as if Eddie’s simple prompting has made something inside Steve snap; he’s really talking now, rapid-fire, like he’s running out of time. “I wake up, and I can’t—I just know that I’ve… I’ve fucked up somehow. That I’ve… I’ve lost. Someone. Everyone. Feels like the fucking walls are closing in. It’s—it’s when I’m awake, too. I can’t stop thinking—a-and it’s not even Upside Down shit, not all the time. It’s… Robin was late to work once, and something told me that she—she was dead, and I…”

A creak of someone sitting down on the couch. The soft rustle of fabric. Dustin doesn’t need to see to know that Steve and Eddie are sitting next to one another—that from the fragile way Steve exhales, Eddie is hugging him.

“Christ, Steve. That’s… no-one can just—just deal with that alone, okay? That shit’s poison.”

Steve laughs brokenly. “I can’t just—what else am I supposed to—Eddie, it’s everywhere, it’s—I wake up and I check every fucking car wreck on the news, ‘cause I just—I just have this awful feeling that. That the kids, they’ve…”

Dustin thinks of Steve jokingly scolding them whenever they’re late for him to pick them up, his routine call of, “Hey, shitheads! Seatbelts on or you’re walking.” He feels sick.

“But last night, it…” Eddie sounds tentative. “It was worse?”

“Just… nightmare. Upside Down.”

But the return of the clipped tone to Steve’s voice betrays that there’s more to it.

“Steve.”

It’s kind of amazing, Dustin thinks, how just by saying Steve’s name, it somehow sounds like Eddie is saying, Please tell me and I’m here—and probably more.

“I’ve…” Steve inhales sharply. “I’ve never dreamt that you—that you made it before. You’re always… I’m always too late, and you’re dying, or you’re already dead, but…”

Eddie sounds a bit shaky, too. “But?”

“Not last night. I thought—I fucking thought it was better, it was all quiet, and there were dead bats on the ground, and I was at your trailer, and you were opening the door, you’d made it, and… And then you. You said.”

“Okay, take a breath—”

“You said, ‘One got in.’ That’s all you kept saying one got in, and I was fucking shaking you, trying to help you snap out of it, and… Then I saw what you meant. That. That Dustin.”

“Oh God.”

“It had sliced through his neck. Eddie, he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t stop bleeding.”

“All right. Hey, I’ve got you, just—”

“And then I woke up. And I… I thought. And when I-I went to check—”

“The phone wouldn’t work.”

“Yeah. Think I lost it, a bit.” A deep, weary sigh. “Embarrassing.”

“It’s not. Steve, I fucking promise you that it’s not.”

“Then I… I don’t know. Think I threw up, maybe twice. Drove until I. Until I couldn’t.”

Another creak. Eddie getting off the couch. Footsteps. Running water.

“Here. You’re probably dehydrated to hell.”

Slow sips.

“Hey, Steve. Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For telling me.”

A silence goes on for long enough that Dustin feels he wouldn’t be intruding, if he entered. But he waits. Just in case.

There’s a little miaow by his feet. Tews, blinking slowly up at him.

Dustin gently nudges him towards the living room until he obligingly trots inside.

The reaction is instant.

“Baby,” Eddie says reverently, and Dustin nearly laughs because oh, that’s right; they’ve not met before.

Steve chuckles, makes a soft, encouraging clicking noise. “Hey, bud.”

Dustin stands up. His mom told him once that cats can sense when someone’s in pain, even if they’re silent about it.

When he enters the living room, Tews is curled up in Steve’s lap, purring loudly. Eddie’s got one arm flung across the couch, resting just behind Steve’s head; with his other hand, he’s scratching Tews—the favoured spot, right under the chin.

Steve looks like he might—not sleep, not exactly, but that he might doze off a little.

Dustin doesn’t bother being that quiet, remembers one time when they’d all taken over Steve’s couches, watching movies, and he’d made fun of Steve for his eyelids drooping within the first thirty minutes.

“Can’t help it, dude. When you little shits talk, it’s like white noise,” Steve had said—which at the time, he’d made it sound like an insult, but now Dustin can see that there’s some truth in it.

He lifts a take-out menu off the fridge, folds it into an aeroplane and throws it at Eddie’s chest.

“I’m starving.”

Steve sinks a little more into the couch. His head tips back slightly, and then Eddie’s fingers are lightly skimming through Steve’s hair.

Eddie laughs quietly, takes the menu and says, all hushed and theatrical, “Why, boy, you’re naught but skin and bone!”

Then he smiles, and his head tilts just a bit in acknowledgement—like he knows Dustin had given them the time alone.

[the-firebird69]

Star Wars Episode II - Attack of the Clones - Obi-Wan Kenobi Arrives on ...

I spent a great deal of time looking at this is not true but it will announce you with the issue is and I do believe this is a big problem and it's been festering and growing and I'm understanding that Mac Daddy had a recovery plan and I know how it works I have to have similar plans so it makes sense that they would try and stop us and make sense that they would use force and take over our and take over our facilities this is one of them backstabbing them all by taking our recovery plan because they don't like us either. Now he's going after all of you are homies and you are cleverly hiding him because it's one of you and he knew about this but his aspirations are too high and his ruining us and he went after the other bases with Trump Now it's a horrible thing so we do see the problem. This guy is a complete nut case Tries to blame our friend here for something that happened to his dad no it's for his own mental retardation and Daniel is sick that was something that I'm at proper did and they ruined Mac with it daniel's ruining back further their friend says it won't be much time before the whole thing falls apart damn then they'll move on to foreigners and what we notice is working pretty hard at getting ready because he sees where divided this division is pretty bad and what he says is it's motivating people then there's several effects but yeah improves that our particular force is not cohesive enough and it also removes motivation of Mac to try and rejoin the max and he'll discover or has that they're involved he says he knows about it and newest facilities were being taken over jason was running interference and now he knows who it is and he knows that he is a cheap shirt running around helping a little and then ruining the boy and it's just garbage everybody is doing it and none of us get anywhere somebody is misusing it everywhere but I don't know and they're like no daniel is misusing phrases Using them where they don't belong and there's a nightmare about it there's people are unwittingly unnerving. They don't understand these concepts and they're not that complicated there's a lot of Mac proper you don't see a ton of them because they're down below so I hear this all day that I suppose they don't know what I'm talking about I'm getting rather sick of hearing it I know what I'm talking about you're ruining us by dividing us when we're already losing against this half **** force and how are you gonna win nuclear weapons well let me have any idea but we found you a ratting on everybody and that includes you you're more tired of you picking on him you're a huge bully you're stupid and you don't know what's going on and we already have this idiot doing it You're not there with a huge force calling the shots on us we should call the shots on you and see how you do

darth vader

and im insolent and ridiculousand ok he can be mean too. so what im sick of htis needed a way out and used it anad ok have my own h it will come after me and no.  so what i lose then.  ridiculous is the jdgement passedon me

daniel

your a bottom feeder now paul hesterberg and no longer can use that name youir  not smart.  it is easy math and detreimental to your estranged colleques and you.

Zues Hera

if i divide mine i will fall yes.  i did not i only took the bases of stan and mac and ben their reicovey plan so what.

daniel

you then had us fight the morlok and we found it in your notes last night heard you mock me hundreds of times

stan

andwe understand i said it too many timmes..true too feel ill about it no. i am mean onry and  a ruler.  

daniel

and we heard it lasst night your the oaf.  so fuck yoiu shithead and he hates you morlock were our army and you lost it your a shit too saw you at walmart and you scowel and duck youir head. cover your eyes and yeh are guilty as hell thats all.  we were to split it that is why so. we did not have to lose due to it and ok he says has an invasion force and hahaha so do tons of others. and his at fll strenght oh well ok lol

justin

It's not really that big I talked to him and I said You're a **** **** and it's really small I don't think he gets it he did have a point that they're all military but that's not what happens it's not true and they've been going around messing people up and we do see them in the field and we did figure it out and I sent it to our friend here I said it differently well took it over he said you'll have to find another place well those ships aren't yours anymore dude those two binocular things.

mac daddy

Olympus

[intimacyissues]

April 6, 2023

I've been seeing this and that about this year feeling like or being a cycle of 2016/2017

and so many things have been coming back up for me from that time

raves/house of yes nights

my gauges are back

boys boys boys

i've been wanting to have a threesome again

and that was my era of being a unicorn

I've been thinking back to that time and be mindful of growth and of lessons and so i can do better

or at least take from what i learned in past experiences to further better future ones

i made some small links but i think they are a stretch honestly

i thought the vici brothers were like the bushwick boys - in reality that wasn't even close to the same except maybe the way Vic was being weird like Blake that one night he just left?

i thought Que could be like the shithead Philip, but Que is just not as bad bc Philip, well he was treating me poorly as an effort to get me to be mean to him

and the funniest is thinking Josh and Cole were even potentially in the same realm - Cole is handsome, smart, and tall (+ has a huge nice cock) Josh was short in many areas but ate pussy like he was starving.

either which way maybe it's not about one for one experiences but more so how i handle them this time

those we two huge years for me. i got dumped by my first adult boyfriend.. i graduated college, i got my first job. years that shaped me.

it's so funny seeing some of the post where some problems definitely still exist (feeling good enough/wanting to be home with my family/hating not being fought for) and how many huge things have changed for the better

this is specific for 2016 bc 2017 is a lot of rob and it's late and i'm tired and i still have to write about this weekend but to start.. the biggest one

I want to die. less. There are still days i where everything feels heavy and nearly impossible but the overall i'd be better dead? has faded significantly. meeting D has also shown me how completely unrealistic the fantasy of my family being okay if i did is..

i found a post saying i didn't want kids bc they age you and spend all your money, and while, yes, i still agree and i def did. i can't imagine a life where i don't get to be a mother..

there's something about wanting to be with someone i can get blackout drunk with? and for the life of me i can't seem to figure out the reason why i wrote it.. i think it must've been about Lee but nonetheless - i'm a tank and i have someone who let's me cuss them out for absolutely no reason and will still come spend the night after. regardless of where out love is or will be next time i read this. it's been an incredible blessing to have the relationship we have.

lastly, i wrote about how all i wanted was to be in a place at my ten year reunion where i didn't care what people thought of me and baby. i made it. i still care about what some people think of me obviously butttt those people? who i couldn't care less about? no thank you.

and i'm so incredibly impressed with how far i've come though sometimes it feels like i'm still 14 crying my eyes out in the dark. and though not everything is better or even different, so much is.

anywho let's get into this weekend and last because - so many feelings.

last weekend was the first weekend where i didn't have to travel or wasn't sick or didn't already have a plan. it was all spontaneous.

friday i was planning to hang with lexi but they were too hungover (or at least she was?) and didn't end up going out but luckily sylina texted saying she was doing bottomless margs and i figured what's the harm in a couple drinks.

which are famous last words.

i ended up with them the rest of the night jumping from bar to bar doing shots. we went just about everywhere started at the resturant, then bar 404 (the lesbian bar), canopy, federales and then mile high spirits? which in the end was a fun and enlightening night because i realized two things. I am an unreasonable brat when drunk and my first instinct is to give everyone the cold shoulder when they approach me (i.e. Tyler - who was a cute sweetie that meant no harm lol) - the brat was me in Trents' car asking D to pick me up even though i had my own car AND he send uber money and saying fuck you when he said no

saturday night i went on a date with Daryl in FOCO which was a fine date he was such a gentleman but there were so many red flags.. being insistent on opening the car door (tot the point where when i tried to get he jokingly threatened to beat me, his cuddling my chest in the car, and the story about this ex trying to leave without telling him in fear of his reaction) and then i came home and got ready to go out with lexi.

the original plan was lime but with a super long line + 45 dollar cover we wound up at view house. so so many faces this night, shedding the addittude + Giselle's friendly convos i ended up talking to a couple men. one was the tallest guy in the room, but he was for everyone, and come to find out he had a million kids. two, Charles, who was respectable while there but went completely ghost the next day. then Deon who was nice then unfollowed me and removed me as a follower (without a word??) and the cute one who never goes out that got away with the weird friend (luka look a like) who's IG was doing all kids of crazy the next couple days?

sunday thankfully was chill that weekend, just spending time with Sylina on the first warm spring day of the year.

spent everynight with D that weekend.

through the week as less eventful but still I managed to tell Daryl i didn't want anything serious and Cole the truth why i'd been avoiding him

this weekend started on thursday bc Sylina had a friend Erika in town, and of course me not being able to say no and wanting to go out on opening day agreed. and I ended up asking Nore/Vic to meet us and he got out and was a total dick. (after showing up hours after we planed) but this is the night i connect with sweet Jose.

Then friday is the concert which is so so fun. Ican't wait for more hopefully they go smoother and an ex hookup who ghosted me/sexually harassed a friend i didn't even know doeesn't show up

Saturday is slow and i end up spiraling and i reach out to Corey, who doesn't answer and Jose who says yes but has to go out bc he promised his brother, and ends up here att 5am

then there's my sunday where I get blown off by my parents who are in tampa leaving me the day to myself which ends in me agreeing to pick up D and a quick meet with Cole.

Cole is more amazing than i was expecting in every single way.

Jose is someone who i can tell has a kind heart but for someone who says he wants to stay in and just chill ended up at the strip club with his brother and stayed out til 5 and is now drinking again.

i'm not entirely sure how i'll proceed with him buuuuut we will see. esp. cause he's still a horrrible texter

Cole i would like to keep around bc i think we could also be friends but we will seeeeee

[songmingisthighs]

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. lxxi - really proud of you sweetie ❤❤

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

The whole time you went out to buy snacks with San and Jongho, you couldn't help but think about how Yeosang was still cold towards you.

"Okay, first of all, you're not gonna let that shithead get to you, you got me?" San firmly said as he threw a bag of chips at Jongho's head, obviously aiming at the basket in his hand but he miscalculated.

"Second, hasn't he opened up to you slightly? Pretty sure he said something to Hwa hyung about being a dick to you yesterday," San shrugged as the three of you walked towards the cashier.

As Jongho put the basket on the counter, he chimed in with his own opinion, "I say let him be all pissy and bitchy towards (Y/N)," he scoffed.

You let out a whine of protest and smacked Jongho on his arm. Though that barely did anything as he only grinned and pulled you into his arms. "I didn't mean that in a bad way, I just meant that if he decided to back off, the rest of us, aka ME, can have more of you," he whispered into your ear as he snaked his arms around your waist.

Though you were slightly affected by Jongho saying that there was a chance that Yeosang wanted to back off of your relationship, you couldn't help but blush and giggle at Jongho's rather possessive words and actions.

The three of you left the convenience store with two bags. Both of course being carried each by San and Jongho as you stood in between them with your pinkies linked to each other.

"You know, you COULD just show what Yeosang's missing, maybe then he'd realize how much of a bitch he was being and that he'd stop," San said, snickering at himself.

You thought over San's words and realized that he was right. Rather than thinking that you're the one at the disadvantage, you can simply flip things around and make Yeosang break.

So you concocted a plan in your head all the way back and as you got ready for movie night.

Whilst everyone was running around everywhere, pulling blankets and pillows from their rooms, you sat idly by and kept a close eye on Yeosang. The way you were looking at him made it seem like you're a predator and Yeosang's your prey.

As everyone took their seat, you slyly directed each of the boys to sit where you want them to sit, leaving the last comfortable position directly below you, by your feet. Since you know Yeosang tends to go to the bathroom last minute, it meant that he was going to have to sit at the available spot if he wanted to comfortably watch the movie.

Just as you expected, he walked back and froze for a second when he realized where he would be sitting.

"Yeosang, come on, we're gonna start now," Hongjoong called out from his position at the edge of the sofa.

Knowing he can't do or say anything, Yeosang gave up and went to take a seat by your feet. You smirked inconspicuously as you leaned against Seonghwa who was at your right. You nuzzled into him as your legs reached over to Wooyoung's lap on your left.

In the first ten minutes of the movie, you let Yeosang relax, not letting any parts of your body touch his. This seemed to be effective because his eyes were focused on the screen and his shoulders seemed very much relaxed.

But when he seemed to disregard your existence, you let your knee and fingers brush against the back of his neck. As your skin made contact with his, he visibly stiffened. Knowing him, his eyes were most likely bulged out and his grip on the blanket he and San shared tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white.

You smirked at yourself at his reaction, knowing that teasing him was going to be fun and that he deserved it.

The subtlety of your touch seemed to awaken something in Yeosang. Maybe it was his triggered frustration or it was just simply the fact that you hadn't touched him in the longest time.

When your eyes peeked down at him, it was evident that his mind was thinking a hundred thousand thoughts a minute. With his chest rising and deflating with each breath dramatically, you know it's time to take it up a notch and to test your hypothesis.

Sexually frustrated Yeosang + subtle teasing = boi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

"Oops, almost forgot my popcorn," you muttered lowly but loud enough for Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung to hear. Once Seonghwa and Wooyoung let their grip on you off, you proceeded to swing your right light over Yeosang and stepped diagonally. With the newfound balance, you leaned your body forward to pretend to reach for the popcorn bowl.

With this position, Yeosang was in direct eyeliner with your clothed core. The shorts you wore were not helping either. It was the pair you wore were the ones Wooyoung bought for you; very tight and short, the black, stretchy material both accentuated and covered only half of your ass.

To make things worse, you pretended to lose your balance and fell directly on Yeosang's lap with a high, squeaky yelp, albeit very fake. The close proximity between you two enabled you to hear the choked gasp that came out of Yeosang. Not only that, but you felt something hard pressing against your ass.

Either Yeosang hid the remote in his pants or your plan worked well.

You turned your face to look at Yeosang with a faux innocent, apologetic face, "Oops, sorry Sangie," you apologized to him, batting your eyelashes at him.

It seemed that Seonghwa and San had caught onto your plan. They were snickering at the scene unveiling before them.

Without saying anything else, you stood up. To make things worse, with your ass directly in front of Yeosang, you 'fixed' your shorts; pulling it up and exposing more of your ass.

"I'll be back," you told the room, to no one specific, before walking towards the kitchen.

You pretended to look around in there, trying to find something when suddenly a set of footsteps followed. Before you could even turn to look at who came, you had been swung and pushed until your back hit the fridge's door.

The sight of Yeosang's flustered face combined with his glare greeted you. You tried your best to not look so smug. On the contrary, you pretended to be confused.

With hands pinned at the sides, you knew you couldn't do much. You tilted your head at him and blinked innocently, "something wrong, Sangie?"

Hearing the faux innocence dripping from your voice only made Yeosang growl, slightly ticked that you dared play him like a fiddle.

"Something wrong? Are you seriously that ignorant or are you just pretending to be dumb? I don't even know which one is worse but I'm fucking sick of you flaunting your ass like a damn peacock trying to mate," he rambled on.

Your expression changed as a smirk broke on your face, "didn't know you're one to give in so easily, Sangie? You think with your dick now?" you poked fun at him.

Yeosang's left eye visibly twitched at your words. One of his hands let go of one of yours to grab at the back of your hair, tugging it back rather harshly, eliciting a moan out of you, "are you comparing me with one of the cheap boy toys that you played with when you weren't here? Didn't know your standards were lowered to that extent," he smirked, trying to push you the same way you did him.

A gasp and a low groan left Yeosang when you cupped his dick with your free hand over his pyjama pants, giving it a bit more pressure to feel how hard he was.

"No matter how much you call them 'cheap boy toys', they have bigger balls than you, Sangie. How long did you plan on being all pissy with me, hmm? Did it hurt your pride that I had to be the one who initiated direct contact with you?" you snarled at him.

You could see his eyes burn in anger with a tinge of shame. You knew you had struck a nerve in him.

All of a sudden, Yeosang pulled you off the fridge, turned you around and pushed you down by the shoulder to the point that your cheek was pressed onto the cold countertop.

Excitement filled you as you realized where this was going. Your formula was spot on, your H1 was accepted and H0 was rejected.

When you realized that Yeosang was not doing anything, you took matters into your own hands. You pressed your scantily clad core directly against his boner.

"Not gonna do anything, Sangie? Do I have to get one of the boys to show you how to use a dick properly? Or should I call one of Haknyeon's friends to show you? There's this one, Hyunjae I think was his name, he-"

You couldn't complete the sentence as Yeosang had slapped your ass so hard, you were sure he had left a purple handprint there.

As you were about to protest, Yeosang had somehow taken a clean rag and wrap it around your mouth as a makeshift gag. He leaned forward so that his chest was pressed onto your back.

"Be a good girl and keep your big mouth shut, yeah?" he ordered. His hand skimmed your waist down to your legs and it slowly caressed the back of your thighs, leaving goosebumps at their wake.

When he realized you didn't give him any response, his hands smacked the sides of your legs harshly, making you jolt up in surprise.

"Too dumb to answer?" he growled. Hearing the anger in his voice made you whimper out in fear and submission.

Yeosang smiled and pecked the back of your neck after you replied to him, your submission made him feel soft for a split second.

It wasn't until he pulled your shorts and panties carelessly along with his own pyjama pants and underwear that your brain finally registered that you're about to have angry sex with Yeosang. From how he had been treating you so far, you're at least 70% sure that there will be bruises all over you tomorrow.

Without hesitation, Yeosang shoved his dick deep into you, hips pressing against your ass as his hands found anchor on your waist. His grip was tight, vice even, it almost seemed possessive.

He set a harsh and quick pace from the beginning, not caring that your hips were smacking the counter nor the fact that literally anyone could enter the kitchen area.

Yeosang isn't one to talk much during sex, he tends to focus on the action more than anything else.

The feeling of him continuously entering you at such pace and vigour were intoxicating. Maybe it was all the pent up frustration and anger, but you swore your eyes rolled back even further each time his hips smacked yours harshly. You definitely won't be able to sit on your ass after this.

"Shit, I guess you were telling the truth when you said you weren't playing with your cousin's friends," he groaned out mid-thrust.

Yeosang suddenly pulled out, making you whine in protest.

If it weren't for the extreme sexual tension and both of your compromising predicament, Yeosang would've cooed at how adorable you sounded.

But that wasn't his priority at the moment.

Wordlessly, Yeosang pulled you off the counter to move you to the wooden dining table. He pushed you to lie on the table as he propped a leg up to his waist.

With this new position, you could see the defined lines of his chest peeking from his pyjama when he anchored himself above you. You thanked the workout regime he had been following internally because the sight of his muscles made your pussy throb.

Yeosang immediately went back to thrusting with an animalistic pace into you, pouring every bit of emotion he had into action. You could feel it. The way he was so close to you but still maintaining a certain distance, you knew that he was hesitating. The way he was avoiding your eyes and focus on where you both were connected, yearning for intimacy but scared to initiate it. But you also know that he wanted you beyond anything else and that he was sorry. He wasn't one to be good with words but luckily you know him well enough to understand him.

As he focused on pleasuring you both, you took the chance to prop yourself up slightly and pull the rag gag off your mouth and threw it to the side.

Your hand slapped his face, stunning him for a second. As his movements halted and eyes finally meeting yours, your grabbed his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

He froze momentarily, not knowing what to do. But when you pulled out to speak to him, you could see that his stubbornness began to chip away and crumble.

"You don't have to feel bad about what happened, I forgave you and it's about time you forgive yourself for being a jerk to me. And I'm sorry for leaving you to take care of everyone like that, Sangie. But can we please move past all that and go back to normal?"

His once vice grip on you loosened.

At first, you thought he was going to let you go and run away.

But he suddenly pulled you up and flush against him. He hugged you tightly, burying his face on your shoulder.

"I should've been the one to apologize first. I'm sorry, I love you so much," he said lowly against your skin. You knew that it was hard for him to be so vulnerable which was why you know him saying all that meant that he was being beyond sincere.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as his wrapped around your waist.

Soon his thrusts continued.

The initial roughness and anger were replaced with longing and desperation.

Not long after, you felt that you were close to the edge. Your leg that was hoisted up on Yeosang's waist tightened and Yeosang immediately realized what it meant.

His hands slipped under your shirt to play with your chest. His fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples, adding to the pleasure that he gave. The intense arousal shot to your pussy and you clenched hard as you came.

Head thrown back, exposing your neck to him, Yeosang took the opportunity to mark you up as he liked.

The feeling of his fingers on your nipples, his mouth on your skin, and his dick still moving inside you prolonged your orgasm more than you liked. The intensity made you whine as overstimulation took over.

Luckily, Yeosang soon followed suit and released his load inside you. His hips stuttered and his teeth bit down onto your shirt-covered shoulder. You yelped at the sudden pain but the pain turned to pleasure, making your thighs shook and pussy once again clamping around Yeosang.

Yeosang let out a guttural groan that was muffled by your shoulder at the feeling, not denying how good it felt.

You both stayed there, trying to catch your breath. It was then that you registered the aftermath of your intimate activity with Yeosang. Your pants and panties had somehow stuck onto one of the drawer handles of where you were pinned down, the rag that was used as a gag had somehow made its way to the edge of the room, and Yeosang was still fully dressed.

When your eyes met his again, you see fondness and love in them, He was smiling down at you, fingers trailing down to intertwine with yours.

"What would it take me to get your full forgiveness?" he asked, head tilting to the side. His bangs moved to reveal the birthmark that he had told you a while ago he was insecure about. You leaned forward and pecked the adorable mark, making him chuckle.

"Just don't pull yourself or push me away again when things are hard, okay? The last thing I want is to almost lose you again," you told him.

He brought one of your intertwined hands to his lips and gave it a soft kiss, "there is no way on earth that you'd be able to lose me. I was actually thinking the other way around," he admitted shyly.

You bit back a giggle for his sake and opted to kiss him fully on his lips. "You would never lose me, Sangie, I belong with you, all of you," you assured him.

As he pulled himself out of you and began to clean himself up, he was reminded that the others were a room apart.

Yeosang visibly swallowed, suddenly turning nervous.

"D-do you think the others-"

"Seonghwa and San were well aware that we were having sex here, pretty sure the others heard everything as well," you said, cutting him off.

"Yeah we did! You both better clean and disinfect the heck out of the kitchen area," Seonghwa yelled out from the living room.

Hearing that, Yeosang blushed madly and moved to bury his face into your shoulder in embarrassment.

You couldn't help but laugh at him. But you wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back comfortingly.

At least you got the old Yeosang back.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @sanraes @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic @yunhorights @exfolitae @simplewonderland @verycooldogblog @perfectlysane24 @hannahdinse8 @tannie13 @aka-minhyuk-kun @phebeedee @em0yunho @marsophilia @donghyuckanti27 @se-onghwa @malewife-supremacy @hyunsukream @peachyho@taejichafe @alliecoady98 @rdiamondbts2727 @hakuna-matata-ya @ohmy-fandoms @ateezminonspace @stray-bi-kids @imaaroy @fashi0nablee @rindomo @violetwinters @nabihwa @linhyyboo12 @mirror-juliet @bestboiericsohn @kpop-khh-writer-trash

[fearandhungies]

man i get why so many people are like haha yessss twitter dieeeeee but like....... genuinely what an upsetting situation like sorry but twiter is really the sort of thing that has no direct replacements and theres so many talented artists and so many like. communities that if you want to keep up with shit (like i do with competitive pokemon players and such) without joining servers because jesus god i hate discord servers its like..... what do you even do. a large facet of things i enjoy are just going to be Lost with no easy way to reconnect with these groups

and like twitter is the only way i keep up with many people i know irls lives who i just havent been able to be with since the pandemic and yeah what the fuck ever shitheads exist on twitter big news shitheads exist EVERYWHERE and like. not to Mention all the jobs lost and years of coding and work and effort put into it just being lost like. idk. im just upset. im sick of seeing posts being happy abt it.

[quicksilver813]

stripped-down emotion takin’ over

“touch” by animal sun - lawrusso - dubcon; homophobic language

- - - - -

The flash of a flat stomach and a thin chest under that white gi won’t leave the backs of his eyes. He’d known LaRusso was slim, fucking dainty, may as well have been a fucking girl, really, just look at those legs, those lips, those eyes -

Those goddamn dick-sucking lips, holy shit, fucking red as hell -

The other Cobras are talking, laughing, roughhousing around him, and Dutch bumps hard into Johnny’s shoulder when Bobby shoves him away; it’s the burst of ache that flashes the image of LaRusso’s cupid’s bow away. “Did you see how fuckin’ scared he was?” Dutch is laughing, and it says something, it says a whole hell of a lot, for how bad Johnny’s brain’s got, that he doesn’t catch on right at first.

“Yeah,” he says, and then, louder, when he sees Bobby give him the side-eye, “yeah, fuckin’ flower, probably never even had to fight somebody for real yet.”

No one but Bobby seems to notice when his voice trails off quieter there at the end, quieter until it’s drowned out among the Cobras and their cries. No one but Bobby seems to hear when, frustrated by the burning itch that’s clawing at his chest, frustrated by his pulse beating loud in his ears, he mutters a curt “be back” and slips away, back down the halls.

—

Daniel’s still right where they’d left him, sitting on the bench with his knees bouncing and hands clenched between them, though at least he’s gotten his goddamn gi done up right, fucking twerp. Hasn’t ever fought. Bet that’s not even his belt.

“Bet that’s not even yours.”

It sends a sick and vicious thrill way down deep in Johnny’s veins when Daniel leaps at his voice, springs to his feet and whirls at the ready - when he sees the flash of fear go bright and prey-weak in his eyes. “Get out of here, Lawrence, come on — “

“Or what?” he asks, and, fuck, he’s glad he knows how to keep his confidence in his voice, even when it’s gone everywhere else. He takes one step, then another, edging closer to the LaRusso boy bit by bit and fucking burning at the heat he imagines he can feel coming off that Jersey-dark skin, at the heat that lights inside him when Daniel backs off one step, then another - matching him stride for stride in reverse, even though he’s poised to fight. “Gonna get disqualified before we even fight, LaRusso?”

“What do you want?” Daniel asks, and Johnny swears he can hear him, see him, swallow, that slender throat working and those damn lips parting on a little puff of air when he bumps into the bench behind him. He shifts to the side, starting to edge back around it toward the lockers as Johnny closes in. “Where’s your boys, come on, Lawrence, you know you can’t do shit to me without them here — “

“I’m not here to fight you,” he says, cutting him off and watching confusion ignite. Before Daniel can ask, Johnny says, “I want - “ and then he pauses, because, fuck, what is he supposed to say?

I want to find out if that mouth’s as good as it looks? I want to know what your blood tastes like?

Daniel’s looking at him different now, fear dropped down into wariness, but his stance hasn’t swayed.

Johnny clears his throat, drops his gaze to the black belt around those girly fucking hips, thinks wildly, I want to see if you even have a dick under there -

He chokes the thought to death before it goes anywhere worse than it already had.

“Spit it out, Lawrence, come on,” Daniel’s snapping, and Johnny scoffs and moves in closer, quick and sudden all at once, because it’s always been easier to fuck and fight than it is to talk, goddammit, why is it always -

Daniel’s hand shoots up when his shoots out, but before the fucker can hit him twice, Johnny’s caught his other hand midair and twisted hard, twisted until Daniel’s yelping aloud at the grind of his bones, until he’s forced to twist, too, shoved up hard against the lockers with his cheek to the grates.

“I’ll yell,” Daniel’s saying, gasping, really, as Johnny readjusts his grip to keep both his wrists pinned, and, fuck, Johnny feels like he’s moving through a dream, everything loose and slow and fucking faint, but the fragility of those wrists in his hands, how fucking thin they are, how hard they’re flexing without anywhere to go...

It makes him ache.

“I’ll yell, Lawrence, I’ll fucking do it, Mr. Miyagi’s supposed to be here soon and there’s refs crawlin’ all over, let me go before I beat your ass - “

And the absurdity of that startles a laugh from Johnny even as he leans in, even as he presses his nose into the joint of Daniel’s deer-thin neck and shoulders, even as he breathes in deep when Daniel shudders. “You can’t do shit to me,” he grits out, and, fuck, he feels almost drunk now, floating. “You know you can’t.”

Daniel’s squirming harder now, and Johnny feels him twist like he’s about to kick back, so before he can he shoves one knee up high, gets his thigh wedged up in between Daniel’s own and presses hard, and it’s not even a conscious thought, really - hell, he barely even thought at all - but all of a sudden Daniel jerks and gasps and he’s tense in a different way, and.

Oh.

“You like that,” Johnny purrs through the molasses haze of his head, and he doesn’t let himself remember he came here for this, he came here to fuck, came here to sink his teeth in and make Daniel bleed. “Shit, fuckin’ fag, huh? You like that?”

He pushes his leg up harder, thigh wedged tight against Daniel’s ass through his gi, and, shit, he feels Daniel struggle to widen his stance, feels the way his hips jerk minutely at the pressure on his -

So you do have a dick under there, Danielle.

“No,” Daniel’s spitting out, but his voice is strained and Johnny can fucking /hear/ his pulse jackrabbiting in the void of his head. “No, shithead, let go - “

Johnny twists his grip tighter with one hand (he relishes in the groan it draws) so he can fist the other in those fucking cupid curls, so he can wrench Daniel’s head back hard - so he can see the arch of that pretty throat, see him swallow hard and gasp aloud. “Don’t tell me what to do. You hear me? Don’t you fucking talk to me.”

He’s trying to keep his voice low, trying to keep everybody else in the damn joint from hearing, but everybody else is too busy swapping stories and sparring out in the auditorium, too busy riling up their cheering sections, to hear if Johnny Lawrence makes Daniel LaRusso cry. He knows it, and from the way Daniel shuts up, back arched hard and that damn mouth hanging open for him to pant for air, the twerp knows it, too.

“Better,” Johnny huffs out through clenched teeth, and he realizes he’s frozen like this now, frozen with Daniel’s throat bared to him and Daniel’s legs nearly open wide around his own. That haze in his head is getting worse, it’s getting harder for him to think, and he isn’t too sure what the hell to do, now that he’s got Bambi where he wants him. Isn’t quite sure if he wants to sink his teeth in and taste his blood, get LaRusso disqualified for fighting because he knows Daniel would never tell...

Or if he wants to push his leg up harder between those quivering thighs, if he wants to make Daniel get off like a fucking girl against him, make him soak his gi and have to fight like that, have to face Johnny in the end - because they both know it’s inevitable - with this memory and his own cum sticky and drying on his skin.

Daniel’s pulse is too loud in the pseudo-silence of the locker room, his breathing too arrhythmic and aborted. It’s scratching at the inside of Johnny’s brain, fucking up his senses, making it harder to fucking think. When Johnny shoves him harder against the lockers, hears metal grind on bird-bone ribs, Daniel jerks and gasps and whines, and - fuck. Johnny knows he’s not imagining the dark and glossy layer that drops low over those eyes.

“Course,” he mutters, shoving his face in close, into the side of Daniel’s neck to breathe in deep. He doesn’t smell like a girl, not quite, but he sure as hell doesn’t smell like a man, either, there’s something different - softer, something intoxicating buried under the scent of sweat and fear. “O’ course you like that, fucking pussy. Bet this is the only way anyone’s ever fucked you, right, bet they’ve only ever roughed you up like this before - “

Daniel’s body shudders where Johnny is pressed flat and flush against it, and his next breath comes as a hiccuping sigh. “Shut up,” and, shit, his voice is wavering. “Shut up, Lawrence, just let me go...”

Johnny ignores him, giving in at last to the urge he’s had since that first fucking night on the beach. He sets his teeth and tongue to where he can feel Daniel’s pulse seize, bites down hard to make him cry and licks his tongue along the dents just made... but he doesn’t make him bleed, because...

Because holding Daniel flat and flush like this, keeping him trapped with one hand in his hair and one at his wrists, pressed up close against him from chest to waist and further down, licking over that darkened skin, he realizes... he doesn’t want him disqualified. He wants to fight him, wants to beat him bloody and watch him grovel to that old sensei when he loses, and he wants - he wants Daniel to find him after, hours or days or weeks after, and he wants Daniel to beg.

“Lawrence,” Daniel’s gritting out again, voice dropped low and hoarse and raw, and it washes over Johnny like liquor as he runs his tongue lower down the tendon in his throat. “Lawrence, J - Johnny, Johnny, come on, man, don’t - “

Johnny twists his hand hard in that dark and perfect hair, and, shit, the little cry it jerks from Daniel - shit, if he hadn’t been hard before, he’s hard now, pressing his way even closer to rut up hard against that taut little ass, those pretty little thighs already opened wide for him. “You like this,” he breathes out, delirious, and his own voice is breaking with every rock of his hips, but at least he isn’t moaning like a damn Encino whore. “Fuckin’ pussy, you like this...”

Daniel’s whimpering now, squirming even harder against Johnny’s grasp, because they both know that while Daniel might be able to beat him in a fair fight, he stands no chance at overpowering him like this. The sounds he’s making, those pathetic little gasps and whines, they’re like a goddamn drug, going straight to Johnny’s head. “Johnny,” he gasps out again, and it takes a second, takes a beat for it to register, with how damn dazed he is, but Johnny realizes - he realizes Daniel’s arching back on his own now, that his hand in Daniel’s hair just a damn accessory now, that Daniel’s -

Johnny’s rhythm falters as he tries to catch up, and he loosens his grip on those curls, and that split-second is enough for Daniel to shift and lean and go limp, head thrown back on Johnny’s shoulder and glass-black eyes blown wide. He’s not trying to get away.

Fucking queer’s not trying to get away.

A low and bitter laugh rises in Johnny’s chest, and he slips his hand around to cup Daniel’s throat, feels him jerk and then swallow hard under his grip when it goes firm. He strokes one thumb hard over his skin, relishes in the tremor he can feel through his whole damn body, tucks his face back out of sight so he can rut. Daniel’s always been too tall for his build - too tall for his slender frame and girlish stature, for those eyes, those lips, that vixen-quick grin - but poised together like this, they fit flush, Daniel’s legs splayed to let Johnny in, Daniel’s head thrown back to let Johnny bruise him...

Johnny doesn’t realize at first that the muffled grunts and gasps he’s hearing are coming from his own damn mouth, that it’s him who sounds like a ruined thing, nearly as bad as Daniel and those high and keening whines. He curses shaky under his breath, turns his head until he feels the tops of collarbones and the curve of a shoulder under his teeth, bites down until he knows skin’s about to split and freezes there, holds Daniel firm holds him with a mating bite for him to fuck against.

Daniel’s squirming again, panting out nonsense words - no, not nonsense, “Let me - let me move, Johnny, come on, man, let go - “ and it takes him a second, but then it hits him, then he realizes Daniel’s circling his hips as best he can trapped against the metal, rocking back and forth on Johnny’s thigh in time with Johnny’s movements. Johnny groans against him, can’t even help it, finally lets go of Daniel’s wrists -

And, shit, he should have fucking known.

As soon as Daniel’s got a hand free, he jams his elbow back hard, and Johnny stumbles and curses aloud. His teeth were still set hard to Daniel’s bones, and he feels skin rip, tastes blood blossom, when Daniel shoves him away. “Fucking asshole, I’ll beat your ass!” Johnny spits out around the blood, wild eyes wide when Daniel whirls to face him, one hand over the bloodied wound where it’s already soaking into his gi.

“You won’t,” Daniel’s saying, thin chest heaving, but Johnny’s already barely listening, because he can see the look in those eyes, the outline of the bitch’s dick through his gi. He doesn’t want me to stop.

“You won’t, because I’ll - I’ll yell, and they’ll come and I’ll tell them you were going to - ... and they’ll disqualify you, but they’ll know what you did, what sick fucking shit you did - “

Johnny wipes his mouth with the back of one hand and takes a step forward, and just like before, Daniel takes a step back, but this time, he doesn’t poise to fight, he just fucking recoils. “You won’t,” Johnny says, and his voice has gone deeper, rougher, in his mockery. “You know you won’t.”

He’s not quite with it enough to feel guilt about the shame that ignites in Daniel’s eyes. The twerp clears his throat, glances away and back again, then away for good. “Johnny - “

Shit, your voice is hot.

“Don’t,” Johnny spits out, and he closes the gap between them all at once, fists a hand around his throat before Daniel can get his hands up to resist. He feels fists clench against his chest, but there’s no pressure there, nothing but want and guilt and fear in those eyes. “Don’t talk to me. You and me, we’re gonna walk out of here, and we’re gonna fight, and when I’ve kicked your ass, yeah? When I’ve won? You’re gonna come crawling to Cobra Kai - to me.”

Daniel’s watching him through that dark glaze, mouth open and panting, skin flushed despite his complexion, and when he shifts, when he changes his stance, Johnny feels him hard beneath his gi. “Never,” Daniel says, but it comes out forced. “N - never.”

Just like that, Johnny shoves him away, and he hits the lockers with a clatter and a groan, sinking to the floor. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see,” he scoffs as he backs away, fumbling to fix his gi - fuck, he can’t fight like this, he’s gotta get over the damn kid. “We’ll see how long it takes, LaRusso. You’ll be begging before long.”

He stumbles into the doorway as he turns to leave, curses aloud and slams his fist into the wire grating. Fucking everything in his fucking way.

He leaves Daniel panting and bruised well before they meet on the mat.

[giorno-plays-piano]

You were all I wanted Part 3

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, human trafficking, mentions of non-con, minor character’s death.

Words: 1600.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

Part 1

Part 2

P.S. Peter is an adult!

This chapter turned out to be shorter, but it's still pretty eventful. Hope you're going to like it <3

___________

"But what... what if he won't like me? What if he'll take me away?" You sobbed, panic taking over you as you imagined Tony Stark pressing a gun to your forehead.

"No, he'd never do that." Peter left a little kiss behind your ear. "Mr. Stark doesn't take the gifts he's made back. You don't have to be afraid of that."

You sniffed at his words. That's what you were now. A gift. A possession. A pet whose job was keeping its master happy. You had to be grateful you were given to someone like Peter, at least. You didn't know whether he would always treat you kindly, but as of now he had never threatened to hurt you. You could only pray for him to fancy you so he wouldn't throw you away like some garbage - apparently, Tony Stark treated his women exactly like that.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place. Of course, you got upset." Peter cuddled with you some more, but you weren't sure whether he was being sincere. Wasn't he sending you a clear message?

Don't go against me or you'll end just like her.

"Oh, I have an idea. Let's go out! Do you wanna see the movie or something?"

You did your best to wipe away your tears and stared at the boy, perplexed. "What?"

"We have a nice little cinema not far from here. We could go right now, just let me check what they've having today."

"But didn't you say I can't leave this place?"

"I meant without me." He showed you the same smug smirk Stark was wearing all the time, and you lowered your gaze to Peter's chest instead. "With me close you can go wherever you want to."

Funny thing to say. In thruth, you could go wherever he wanted to take you.

"Wow, they're having Beyond Darkness in 30 min! We gotta go, you'll loooove this."

"Sure."

In five minutes you were already hurrying after Peter and trying to look nowhere but your shoes. Regardless of what was there in Stark's Tower, you didn't want to see it, not even mentioning all those guys with guns scattered across the building. Peter was saying his hello to each and every one of them as if he were some mafia's social butterfly.

Whatever. You knew Peter was Tony's favorite not because he had a pretty face. You had never particularly asked what his role in all this was, but it was obviously something way bigger than running errands for the gang. Maybe it was better to never figure it out.

"Hey girl, wanna have fun?" Somebody to your left asked you, and you flinched involuntarily, keeping your head low.

Peter stopped in the very same second and sent the stranger a hard look.

"Mike, you offer my girl drugs one more time and I'm gonna shoot your cute little brother in the leg, you hear me?"

You raised your eyes to Peter's smiling face and regretted it immediately. There was something so dark in his gaze you wanted to turn around and run until you were back to your room, hiding somewhere in the corner.

"Shit! Sorry, Spidey!" The guy's high-pitched voice sounded frightened. "Didn't know you got a girl!"

"Yeah, yeah, see you later, we're kind of busy now." Peter grabbed your hand and pulled you away, heading to the exit. "I forgot to mention before that we don't do drugs. At all. They're good for business, but not for us, ok, Baby?"

"Yes, Peter." You answered and kept chewing your lips, thinking of all the things he had just said. You suspected him to be more ruthless when you weren't around, but never to such extent. How damn scary was real Peter Parker?

"And don't worry, I'd never shoot his brother in whatever part of his body." The boy said it like it was something obvious and you didn't even need to pay attention to it.

Why then did that guy look completely horrified?

When you had finally stepped outside and felt the wind playing with your hair you were ready to cry. Just walking out of the Tower was a fucking torture.

It was already dark, and you pulled the zipper on your pretty blue jacket up, going almost shoulder to shoulder with Peter. Normally you'd be at least a little scared to walk the streets of a big city at night, but the guy your mother had warned you about was already holding your hand.

The place the boy brought you to was truly small but cozy with nice vintage red seats, the delicious smell of caramel popcorn spreading everywhere. It turned out that the movie was something in between Star Wars and Star Trek, which wasn't surprising because Peter was a sucker for anything related to sci-fi. Anyway, it wasn't bad and you actually enjoyed watching it. The movie helped you to keep your mind off your earlier encounter with the drug trafficker and the words Peter said.

The only way to live like that and stay sane was to turn a blind eye to anything that happened around, you thought. It was cowardly and revolting, but what could you do against one of the most, if not the most, dangerous gangs in New York? Surely, even if by some miracle you could flee the Tower and go to police, would they really be willing to help you? No, they would return you to Mr. Stark. You were a hundred percent sure he got it covered.

"Are you feeling tired, Baby?"

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at Peter who smiled at you so lovingly it could make any girl cry.

"Just a little bit."

"Want me to give you a massage when we gonna get home?" His expression quickly turned devious, and he winked at you.

Yeah, great, now you'd have him fucking you before your knees were giving out. The kid had such stamina he could be an Olympic athlete, no less.

"Aw, I love when you blush like that." Chuckling, he put his arm around your shoulders and inched closer to give you a quick peck on the lips. You forced youself to enjoy his little signs of affection and start thinking you ought to be thankful he wasn't into heavy BDSM practices or something like that.

While you two were kissing again, you heard someone's loud footsteps as if this person just jumped out of the corner, and then there was a hateful outburst, "Stay were you are. Your wallets, quick!"

You froze, your hands getting cold as you stared at the face of a guy standing in front of you with a knife in his hands. He was clearly unstable, sick - you could see the dark circles around his eyes, the unhealthy color of his skin, and his greasy hair sticking to his forehead. You didn't know what was wrong with him, but he was twice bigger than Peter. The guy would probably have no problem with slicing both him and you into pieces if you didn't comply.

"I said g-"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Peter let out a frustrated sigh before you heard the loud sound of the gun firing.

There was a little black hole in the guy's chest, blood seeping through his dirty white t-shirt and coloring it in a beautiful deep ruby color. You could see the confusion in the eyes of the stranger, his mouth half-open. Slowly, he went down before his legs gave out and he landed at the ground with a loud thud. He didn't move after that.

"Come on, attacking a couple of high shoolers? You're such a psycho, man. Who were you gonna go after us? Kids?" Peter rolled his eyes and hid the gun under his bomber, turning away from the man he murdered and shouting to someone behind him. "It's ok, people! It's just me, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! Calm down, go home, it's late!"

You were still staring at the large pool of blood spreading beneath the body of a stranger - lack of light made it look like it was an odd black liquid. Before you could take your eyes elsewhere, you felt bile quickly going up your throat and vomitted, moving to lean your hand on the wall of a building. He killed him. Peter killed him. You didn't even see him pulling out the gun.

"Oh Baby, I'm so sorry." The boy gently held back your hair when you threw up again, feeling scared, disgusted, feverish and cold at the same time. "That's why I don't like drugs and what they do to people. That shithead lost his mind, you see? No sane guy would ever jump on me or my girl like that."

Despite him being so tender, you couldn't even turn your head to look at him as you started shaking from his touch.

You kept emptying your stomach a few more minutes before Peter softly wiped your mouth with his handkerchief and took your arm, walking you back to the Tower and saying all those unnecessary things about how terrible some people are and how everyone has to take care in the dangerous world they're living in. You didn't hear half of that, but you cared little for his chattering.

Peter had shot the man without showing even the slightest regret. He'd shoot you the same way if you ever turned against him - he was Stark's favourite, after all.

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki  ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

[cbk1000]

I am so fucking pissed right now. We had a very small Thanksgiving planned with Mr. Jenn’s family; just us and his parents and possibly his uncle. Well, today we find out that both his uncle and grandma are going to be there, and they’re both high risk (grandma is in her 80s, generally healthy, except, you know, for the fact that she’s in her late 80s) and his uncle has only been in remission for a couple of years now, so his immune system is still pretty well shot.

What did we also find out today?

Some idiot at Mr. Jenn’s work came to the office sick last Friday, felt worse that weekend, and has been out all this week. Mr. Jenn was just informed this afternoon that he tested positive for COVID. So Mr. Jenn called around to a couple of the testing sites to see if he could get a test somewhere, and one place told him they couldn’t get him in today because they were all booked and whenever he can actually get in, he’s not eligible for one of the tests that gives more rapid results because he doesn’t have any symptoms. They told him it would take between 5-7 days to get his results back once he’s tested. I’m supposed to have my wisdom teeth out next Thursday; obviously they’re not going to do that if I was exposed to COVID. I tried calling the dentist’s office to explain the situation and see what they wanted me to do, and it turns out they closed today at noon for the holiday (I didn’t know about this till about 2 this afternoon) and aren’t back till Monday. So now I’m going to have to call Monday and explain what’s happened. Mr. Jenn did finally find a drive-through testing place with an opening on Friday, and supposedly they get results within about 48 hours, so I’m hoping to know by Monday whether he’s positive or not.

Needless to say, we had to cancel Thanksgiving with my in-laws’. Everyone is upset but agrees with the decision; we’re both asymptomatic so there’s less of a risk of transmission, but there’s still a risk, and I don’t want to push our luck with an 86-year-old and a cancer patient. I’m not sure what to do about my parents’. I already told them about the situation. My dad said he’s not worried and thinks there isn’t much risk, but I’m nervous about going over there if there’s any chance Mr. Jenn was exposed. He doesn’t have much contact with this guy; he said generally the closest they get is one stands in the doorway of the other’s office to say hi, and the guys who have had closer contact with him are not people Mr. Jenn is really around. Mr. Jenn has his own office and generally is in there by himself if he’s not out on an inspection. No one at my parents’ (which would just be my parents and my sister) is high risk, and my dad has actually already been exposed to Mr. Jenn: Mr. Jenn had to run to the grocery store on his lunch break before he found out about his co-worker, and he ran into my dad in the parking lot before he had put his mask on to go in the store, and they stood and chatted for a while. 

I’m just so fucking pissed. This dude came to work sick, during a fucking pandemic, and didn’t even bother to wear a mask. And this is not a situation where he was forced to work or didn’t have any sick time. I know this because Mr. Jenn (back when travelling was still a thing) mentioned that he had to try and save up some vacation time so we could take a trip somewhere (he’s only been at this job a year so he’s not got a lot of vacation hours built up yet), and this coworker was like, “Oh, too bad I can’t just give you some of my hours. I have a ton stockpiled.” He’s been there for years and has hundreds of hours built up. Mr. Jenn said he has so much time built up that he could probably take a couple of months of sick leave and not make a dent. And he couldn’t take one fucking day off when he felt ill. During a fucking pandemic. 

I’m so fucking tired of inconsiderate dumb people. I have worked almost exclusively from home since March. I go basically nowhere except the grocery store/pet store every couple of weeks. And this shithead just gallivants about spraying COVID everywhere.

[stan-joonies]

Pretend To Be Mine

Part 3 of Pretend To Be My Only: Part 1 Part 2

Y/N tapped her foot on the curb, huffing in annoyance as the time ticked on.

Henry had promised to pick her up and take her to school, but he was late...by 10 minutes.

She felt her blood boiling, a nice contrast to the chilly air that nipped at her skin.

Her day had not gone well.

She thought she woke up late so began rushing to get ready, in the process she stubbed her toe on the corner of her bed and tripped over her charger wire. Then, while straightening her hair she burnt the side of her face trying to get the baby hairs. Finally, after she was dressed, jeans and a cropped vest, she realised she read the time wrong and didn't need to leave for two hours.

Henry's tardiness was the tip of the ice berg.

But then he came speeding down the road with Reggie taking the drivers seat. She winced as the tires rubbed against the pavement harshly when it stopped next to her.

"Hey Baby!" Henry called, smirking as she stormed her way to the car, opening the back seat door.

She flinched when she spotted Patrick, his tongue coming out to lick his lips. She immediately shut it in his face, walking to the front of the car and clambering onto Henry's lap.

"Ohh...you in that type of mood?" His hand came to squeeze her bum.

"Fuck you, Bowers!"

The gang laughed at her before Belch started the car and sped down the road.

Y/N turned away from the windows, feeling sick watching the speed the car was going. Instead she entertained herself with Henry's face.

His skin was pale, like most in Derry. His piercing blue eyes were hard and unforgiving as he stared out the window, but in the dim flash of sunlight, they had a tiny twinkle, a sparkle. His lips were cracked and bleeding from the elongated smirk he had. His arms...they were long, but not lanky like Patrick's. They were strong and Y/N could almost imagine was it would feel like to be held by them.

But...as she looked closer, she saw the outline of mismatched foundation. The colour was too olive for his pale skin tone and it was shakily applied. It was patchy, so Y/N could almost see the light purple of a bruise under it.

Her eyebrows scrunched up, shaky hand coming out to touch it.

"Look! It's that negro!" Patrick hollered, jumping from his seat to point infront of them.

A black boy was walking down the street alone, dragging his feet as he walked.

"Belch," Henry called out. "Get him,"

Y/N lurched forward as the car sped up, chasing the boy. The engine roared and the kid looked behind him, his eyes going wide when he soot the car. He turned, sprinting away quickly.

"Bowers!" Y/N hollered. "Slow down! You'll hit him!"

"That's the plan!" He smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Her thoughts from just a minute ago resurfaced. They were strong

"Stop!" She yelled, looking towards Belch. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

The driver looked at her, his eyes swam with something simular to pity.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the car becam closer and closer.

Tears swam in her eyes.

She turned to Henry, pulling at the neck of his shirt and looking up at him.

"Henry...please stop,"

The males eyes widened, his eyes scanning her face. Her lip wobbled.

Suddenly, She was out of his lap and the car door on his side was open, flapping against the harsh wind.

"Stop the fuckin' car!" He ordered abd Belch did it quickly.

Patrick groaned.

"We almost had him!"

But Henry didn't listen, booting out the car and running towards the figure laying on the road.

Y/N weeped into the floor, her whole body burned and bled and stung and it was agony.

Henry kneeled beside her, swipping hair out of her face.

"The fuck you jump out the car for?" He shouted, his eyes looking at her damaged skin.

The marks were everywhere that was exposed.

Both her arms were scraped to pieces, Henry was sure they'd scar. Her face had a couple cuts, Y/N had shielded herself at least somewhat. Thankfully her legs were covered by jeans so they didn't receive much damage, just some holes. Her belly would scar too.

"You make me sick, Bowers!" She cried, flinching when he touched her.

"Stop it, I'm trying to help!" He hissed, his hand sliding under her legs abd back, picking her up gently. "You fuckin' dickhead."

"I wasn't gonna join you in prison, shithead."

"I wasn't actually gonna run him over, bitch,"

"You were, you cunt!"

"I'm trying to be comforting here, slut!"

"Not helping, boy toy!"

He slithered into the backseat, ordering Patrick to go up front. He layed her down across his lap, her upper body in his lap with her legs on the second seat, Vic squeezing in at the end.

"This is gonna scar," he stated, pointing to her arms.

"I'll just cover it with concealer," she mumbled. "Hope my dad doesn't find out. "

"Whats concealer?" Henry questioned, pulling out some bandages from under his seat.

"Y/N raised her eyebrow, glancing down at his arm before quickly looking back up, hoping he hadn't seen.

"It's this liquid girls use to cover up stuff, bags, blemishes, scars...bruises."

She watched as Henry's eyes focused on her.

"I thought that was that foundation crap?"

"That can be used too, but concealer is the best way to go."

Henry hummed, his hands going to work on bandaging her scars.

Y/N's eyesbrows furrowed in pain, but her mind drifted to someplace else. Somewhere dark and dangerous.

What was the sheriff doing to Henry?

@joebob15274

[rametarin]

tempting.

Reflecting on my health issues, since age 17. And my living situation.

So since around the age of 16, I’ve been plagued with unpredictable bowel problems and digestive ills. Like, everybody gets constipated every now and then, but I mean I’d get just, excruciatingly backed up and my family wouldn’t help me get seen or anything.

Basically from the time I was 18 onwards I was told my medical bills were mine. But oh by the way [Ram. Not my real name, but the name fam calls me], you gotta pay us every dollar that isn’t devoted to keeping yourself alive :^)

I’d be like, family, I cannot afford this, it’d be in your best interests to invest in my health so I can figure out what’s fucky about my bowels and stomach so this can stop happening, I can live a normal life, and we can all continue on our merry way.

Basically I was told, “tough shit, do it yourself, also pay your fair share to The Family” (aka, give mom all your money.)

It was never just fear of homelessness, but fear of homelessness while my GI tract was fucky and my teeth were rotting out of my head that made escape from here impossible. It’s why I didn’t just climb into a hole in the wall and escape this garbage fire of a mother and do that bootstrap shit. Because it sincerely made  me wonder sometimes if I was being poisoned by my mother to keep me powerless and in need of help, but perpetually weakened to where the best I could do is move towards help but just be put on a treadmill for someone elses financial benefit.

Perhaps my bitterness makes just a touch more sense now, right? Because Maine is a long-drive state. You need a car. You absolutely need a car to get anywhere. Not having one means you walk everywhere, you ride a bike everywhere and are FUCKED during the winter, or you go nowhere because you don’t have anywhere you need to be and don’t drive.

Now that said, imagine having bowel and ass problems so bad just the idea of driving makes you question if it’s safe for you to even be on the road.

That has been my existence for twenty years now, because my family wants me just close enough to extract what mom things “she’s owed,” but absolutely will not help me with anything. There’s no security in staying here because the whole fucking POINT of putting up with a family’s infantilizing “everything has its place” mentality, is you’re able to wisely squirrel away your income without paying a landlord anything and your income going up in smoke

If your mother is just the worst sort of landlord, you’re basically just paying a narcissistic bitch of a mother to be a narcissistic bitch of a mother. There’s absolutely no upside.

So I’ve been stuck in this virtual tutorial of an existence because my own digestive system was torturing me and seriously deleting my ability to operate independently. And mom, whom has always wanted absolute control over my finances and my future, saw it as a holistic way of penning me up and making be desperate. Never a wasted opportunity with this fucking monster.

Well. I eliminated cottonseed oil and chicken proteins from my diet and, while not perfect, the amount of excruciating pain and pressure and weird cold-acidic burning in my back and bowels has subsided a lot. As well as my stomach issues receded considerably.

The truth is I was loathe to even try and escape without figuring out these problems, but I couldn’t figure them out because I never had the money. I tried to get a barium enema x-ray when I was 17 and suffering a massive, excruciating flareup. I missed prom (I didn’t have anyone to go with anyway) because of what felt like it could’ve been anything from gall stones to bowel cancer.

Had a big useless cleanse that was excruciating, then had the guys that give the barium enema tell me, “lube is expensive” when I screamed about how much it hurt to have the thing shoved up my ass. My already inflamed, tender ass.

Absolutely nothing was found in my bowels. Which did absolutely nothing to explain why they felt inflamed and miserable. But it did give me a $1,700 bill, which proved.. absolutely nothing except they couldn’t find tumors or any object lodged in my butt. Given how it took me two summers to acquire almost that much working a shit job for my shithead father’s girlfriend, maybe you can appreciate how heartbreaking that is. Spending all that money and you don’t even learn WHY you’re suffering, you just learn why you aren’t.

And today I still fume with rage over being told, “ass lube is expensive so we’re skimping on it” and then be charged almost two thousand god damned dollars.

Absolutely could not get my family to help me pursue any other avenue. They just kept insisting, “it’s all anxiety, it’s all in your head. You just need to get off the computer and do more manual labor/make us money and your problems will go away. :^)”

But then they would not help me do it. They wanted me to take on all the risk while they got the guaranteed income from my needing to be around them.

My need to grow step by step was their opportunity to mitigate my life, every step of the way, so non-compliance with their exploitation would result in homelessness and complete uprooting. If I wasn’t going to voluntarily follow draconian rules, then I’d be governed by those rules anyway in the absence of them being verbally stated. Just, using poverty and immobility as a way to impose it.

But I refused to comply. I wasn’t going to suffer every day unendingly AND get my income snatched away, BY MY OWN GOD DAMNED FAMILY. A family that didn’t even pay RENT to live in the house we were living in at the time, and a family that made 65-70K a year, with another house they owned in a less convenient location worth $350K. My mother had ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS other than fun and profit as an excuse as to why I needed to buy, “the family,” a car. Other than making it the “family” car giving her defacto control over it but my obligation to pay for it. Just another indirect way to give her absolute control over my options and alternatives.

So I didn’t work. I sat at home and dealt with her abusive bullshit, because it was the only card I had left in my deck. She didn’t want the stigma of throwing out a sick man without a license, a car or any savings. I didn’t want to voluntarily throw myself out and die in the street.

So I dealt with my health problems as best as I could. There were a good many times living in this house, that we’ve lived in and she’s owned since 2006, that I questioned whether I should phone an ambulance and just say fuck it, go into tens of thousands of dollars of debt just goosechasing this problem, thanks to the backdoor socialized medical system that exploits the profit motive but uses government assured payment fixed to taxes in order to afford it.

That’s probably what pisses me off the most about my situation. Our medical system has been turned into a farce by socialists deliberately making medicine as toxic as they fucking can in order to then bat their eyes and go, “Bet you just want single payer and to basically make medicine another ring of the government NOW, don’t youuuuuu? It’d make all those woes go awayyyyy!” while turning the screws to our bodies by denying us affordable medicine. All while blaming capitalism for shit that’s assured to work at any cost by the government.

Other people pine for a more socialized system to make the disgusting exploitation and abuse stop. But the truth is, that’s just like wanting to marry a pirate so they’ll stop lobbing cannonballs and demanding tolls at sea from you. Yes, the actual literal war on you and your community and your personal sovereignty will be over, but you’ll also be institutionalizing pirates in order to make them stop taking complete advantage of you on their terms instead of taking complete advantage of you on mostly-their terms but you get to act like you’re consenting to it.

I digressed. Anyway...

Well. I’m curious about pursuing a shit job just to see if I can KEEP some income, but I know, and have always known, my mother will not allow me to do anything with that money but barely keep myself alive. While she uses it to just buy enormous bulk loads of garbage and hoards them in the corners, or throws hundreds of dollars at friends-of-the-family/neighbors and extracts that money from me to do it.

I know going into it that the job would be otherwise worthless. She wants her ten pounds of flesh a year from me, and if I worked, there’d be no getting around it. She isn’t going to allow me to profit living with her, in any way. Everything has to revolve around her, or I get made homeless.

But trying to hold a job would mean possible (there’s that ‘potential vs. guarantee dichotomy again) feelers out to couches to surf on. Or credit building.

It’d still be a sexless existence dictated by someone so fucking petty that they can’t help you fix a broken tooth but do miraculously have the money to buy you a cell phone and a plan, “if you want it,” purely to always have you at their beck and call and/or have control over your phone plan. And it’d mean committing to something that runs a minimum of a year while being able to have a foot crushing my neck and destroying whatever I’m trying to do in an instant.

but it’d also mean being able to financially pursue what’s wrong with me and fixing it.

But I will hold this grudge against women and the actual, objective privilege they have from the legal system and our social system in the US for the rest of my life. Everybody around me saw what she was doing to me and my life, and they’ve done and said absolutely nothing. An abusive woman in this society is basically on par with the richest barons in a young adult novel, and all you have to do to get that kind of institutional power, rich or poor, is have a vagina and be a mom.

Then other women will sympathize with the mother, whom can never be totally wrong about anything, and at best you might get silence and indifference about the way you’re treated.

You can be cornered, debased and neglected until you’re a greasy shoggoth of a person, and if it’s a woman doing this to you, it’s your fault for not escaping. After having every escape route made as torturous and unsustainable an option as possible, you’ll be held accountable for yourself.

I’ll be relieved and pleased when this disgusting pig of a woman dies of natural causes. She’ll have gotten away with grabbing my life and thrashing around with it for 20 years while the world passed me by, just to keep control, just for fun, just for profit.

But in the meantime, maybe there’s a local niche I can fill. Just enough of something to find somewhere else to live. Without conditions making it more damning to pursue than nothing at all.

But I’m not hoping too hard.

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, pt. viii

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt viii: the space between us

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~6.9k (????)

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop.

Warnings: Language, some “light” religious blasphemy (it’s Far Cry 5). Strong canon deviance from here on out. Some more PTSD symptoms/descriptions, though mild.

Notes: This chapter is like, nearly 2k longer than most others and folks, we got it all: identity crisis, PTSD symptoms, the irritability of being surrounded by Seed brothers, the irritability of perhaps not having eaten or had any real water for like two days, Jacob being a shithead, the "sees love interest in x state of undress" trope, YOU NAME IT. When does the fun stop?? We'll never know. tl;dr Elliot pops off like 6 times and honestly, who’s surprised anymore.

I hope you guys enjoy, it feels a bit like this chapter got away from me and not a lot of exciting stuff happens but it did feel important to have this lull of a chapter between all the action and drama. Thank you, as always, to my angel @starcrier the best proof-reader a girl could ask for an also a remarkably thoughtful and sweet friend who for some reasons decides to bless me with her presence to this day.

Thank you so much to everyone who comments, reads, reblogs, likes--all of it is always cherished by me, and it really does inspire me to keep going. <3

tagging my lover my life my shawty my wife @empirics bc she still wanna go here even when i babble at her nonstop

John had hoped that Elliot would go to sleep, but he knew the chances of that happening were slim to none and he wasn’t surprised when, out of what he could only assume was pure spite and anger, she stayed awake the entire drive to the compound. She stayed awake through John recounting what they had experienced of the cult already, what they knew about Faith; Elliot stayed oddly silent, in the way that swelled with the knowledge that she probably knew more than what she was letting on, but John didn’t push.

Jacob stuck to the side roads, the back roads, keeping them as far from the most populated areas as possible: and John could see that it drove Elliot batty, knowing they could just stop at Fall’s End. The radio’s gospel songs echoed eerily in the cab of the truck. After about five minutes of it playing—and, coincidentally, about two minutes after Elliot had smoked down the entirety of her first cigarette—she blurted out, “Can you turn that shit off?”

“Why?” Jacob asked evenly, and John passed a hand over his face tiredly as he heard Elliot take in a huge breath, as though she needed to make sure she properly had enough oxygen to spit her venom out.

As John began tiredly, “Deputy, mind yourself and close your mouth,” Elliot bulldozed him to say, “Because I’ve got a head wound that seems to get exacerbated by idiotic cultists,” their voices once again overlapping until their words strangled each other, Elliot glaring at John. He really wished she would stop looking so betrayed when he took the side of one of his brothers; it wasn’t as though she and him had ever really felt like a team , anyway.

Except for the ranch, dispatching of those Swedes in tandem. And except for when they’d been driving, and Elliot had actually looked happy for a second, even with their hands cuffed together. And except for—

Knock that shit off, John thought to himself, just in time for Joseph to say, “It seems as though your time together has made an improvement on your temperament, Deputy Honeysett.”

“What gave you that impression?” Elliot prompted, despite John’s not-so-subtle pleading look.

“Well,” Joseph continued, “we always do try to have faith , you know, especially in our brother. But considering the animalistic state you were delivered to him in, I would have expected much more poor behavior out of you.” A gentle smile tugged at his lips, an expression John could see reflected in the rearview mirror. “I like to see the impact he’s had on you.”

John couldn’t quite sort out how he felt about his brother’s words. He wanted to be proud; he wanted to think, yes, see? I’ve tamed her, the hellcat, look at her keeping her hands to herself. He wanted to, but there was a complicated feeling wound up in it, because he saw the way Joseph’s words struck Elliot, the way they collapsed the iron-clad battlements of her expression, the way they folded her up and crushed them in his proverbial fist. It was exactly what Joseph did; disarmed, unwound, pulled each tangling thread until they were so knotted all you could do was cut it out.

So yes, John felt an immediate burst of pride in his chest at Joseph’s words, and that pride was almost instantly wiped away at the look on Elliot’s face. It was as though she couldn’t stand the idea that he had made an impression on her, in any way. Disgust, he thought, fending off the insult of her abhorrence of his influence, hatred. She has always been spiteful and venomous, underneath it all.

“Just wait until you outgrow your usefulness, Seed,” Elliot managed out, her voice crackling with something violent. “You’re the only one I want to see dead before I hand you over to the government.”

Joseph rolled his window down. “I see that your manners still need some polishing, though.”

Elliot looked at John. Her gaze was hard, but he returned it nonetheless, expectantly. She asked, “Proud of yourself, are you?”

“Elliot,” John began, moderating his voice so that he didn’t sound as pleased as he felt (and of course he didn’t know why he was doing that; there was no reason he should work so hard to preserve Elliot’s feelings, and yet… ) so that she wouldn’t be right about him, “it doesn’t…”

“Shut up,” the blonde snapped. Her voice rattled, with anger and with the sick inside of her. She pressed herself back into the corner of the bench seat in the back; she looked like she wanted to melt into the truck’s frame. “I’m fucking tired of your voice.”

“Watch your mouth,” Jacob said from the front seat.

“You shouldn’t be smoking,” John interjected tartly, feeling himself scramble for something—anything—that felt like normal between them again; the normal that had happened with being forced into each other’s company. “Not until you get better. You still sound sick.”

“ You got those cigarettes for me,” Elliot quipped, vitriolic, “and what the fuck isn’t clear about shut up?” 

As soon as the words left her mouth Jacob pushed on the brakes, hard, the movement slamming the back of her head against the window in the back of the truck. The blonde let out a volley of swears, her hand flying to the back of her head instantly.

Jacob said, his voice prickling with hostility, “I told you to watch your mouth.”

“Jacob—” John began, having braced himself against the driver’s seat, but he could already feel Elliot seething. 

“You fuckhead ,” Elliot bit out, spiteful as ever, her fingers coming away sticky and crimson. “You absolute piece of—”

“Jacob,” Joseph murmured, “let’s not waste time on the road.”

“Elliot, stop squirming,” John insisted, his voice more urgent now. “You’re going to get blood everywhere.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it inconvenient for you that your brother reopened my fucking head wound ?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” John growled. “Stop squirming.”

His voice came out more authoritative than he had intended, wound up-tight and hard by the antagonizing nature of Elliot and Jacob’s exchange. The blonde’s jaw clenched, but she stilled; his hands went to her face, tilting her head so that he could take a look at the wound. Reopened, yes, but only just.

“Don’t move,” John said firmly. He could feel Joseph’s eyes on him, and he thought he knew what he was thinking—that once again, he had reaffirmed Joseph’s words, that he had made some kind of an impression on her, that had he told Elliot two days ago to stand still so he could look at a wound that she probably would have sunk her teeth into his arm like a wild animal.

“Didn’t grab any bandages when we were at the ranch, huh?” John asked, trying at something closer to civil.

“I wasn’t thinking particularly beyond bare necessities,” Elliot replied dryly, her voice muffled by her chin tucked against her chest. John made a noise of agreement—he hadn’t thought to grab any, either, having anticipated they’d get the fuck out and be at the compound by now—and sighed a little.

“Well, let’s rip your shirt.”

“Why aren’t we ripping your shirt?” Elliot prompted, and John blinked at her incredulously.

“Do you have any idea how much this shirt costs?”

“Oh, you pretentious little manchild —”

“Fine!”

John didn’t rip his shirt. Instead, he peeled the shirt off, shrugging out of it and folding it to press the gathering of fabric to the wound. Elliot straightened back up into a sitting position, reaching up; her fingers fluttered over John’s, almost shyly, replacing the pressure of his hand with her own so that he could pull away and let her hold it herself.

“You should have just ripped it,” Elliot said, her eyes flickering over him before she caught herself and looked away. Were John not convinced she was running a fever, he might have thought he saw her blushing. All the same, he felt the corners of his mouth tick in something close to a smile.

“It’s easier to scrub blood out than it is to stitch it back together.”

“That’s our John,” Joseph acquiesced from the front sagely. “Ever-giving.” He paused, tilting his head to peer at Elliot and John in the back, “All we ask for is a little civility, deputy. After all, it is our sister that’s been kidnapped.”

Elliot replied, “You seem very concerned about that.” And then, “By the way, they have Joey too, which wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t pass her off to this idiot,” and she jerked her thumb at John.

“If they wanted to kill Faith, they would have already,” Jacob replied, hitting the bridge to the island and flipping the cruise control on as he blithely ignored her comment about Hudson. “Since she was alive when the two of you saw her. Isn’t that right?”

Elliot muttered something of an agreement, as though Jacob were not saying the things she had already said, as though she so desperately did not want to agree with him about something that she would rather choke on her own words than say it out loud.

“We have some search parties sent out,” Jacob continued, his steely gaze sweeping across the road as he flicked the turn signal on—certainly, pure habit at this point. “To pin them down. Once we have them located, we can work on getting Faith back and wiping them out.”

The blonde beside him was quiet, now. As Jacob pulled the truck into the compound—which looked nothing short of a ghost town, now—John glanced over at her again, nursing the wound with his shirt. She looked only tired, as though she’d spent all of her energy in just this car ride alone.

Jacob put the truck into park and turned it off; as they filed out of the car, John swept his gaze over the compound; everything seemed peaceful, as if nothing were happening, a low breeze drifting over the houses and church while the early afternoon sun drenched it in a harsh, unforgiving light. Though it was quiet, the stillness of the compound unsettled him, and the knowledge that many of their followers had been tucked away in the bunkers for safekeeping made his skin crawl.

“John.” Joseph’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Why don’t you take our dear deputy to one of the guesthouses to get settled in? There’s no reason why she can’t rest while we’re getting the radios set up to contact her...” His voice trailed off as he seemed to search for a word, and then eventually mustered up, “Friends.

“I’m not your dear anything,” Elliot said slamming the truck door behind her. Joseph’s lips quirked in a small, muted smile, his eyes beneath the yellow lenses of his glasses nearly unreadable.

“Not yet,” Joseph relented.

John's hand reached Elliot’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said, shaking the way Joseph’s pinning gaze unsettled him, just a little, like there was nothing that was happening that his brother wasn’t cataloging for later.

“Don’t touch me,” she muttered, shrugging his hand off of her but following him nonetheless. John could hear his brothers exchanging words in low voices on their way into the church, and that little sting in his chest lingered, more firmly: the idea that Joseph was pawning off responsibility to him to make him feel like he was doing something important remained.

Elliot pushed the door to a guest house open. “You really just took your whole shirt off instead of ripping a little piece, huh?” she said. It might have been her attempt at casual conversation, but John couldn’t say for sure. It was always so hard to tell what was going to trip that hairpin trigger into enemy territory again.

“It’s Versace, Elliot.”

“Oh, boo .” She pulled it away from her head. “I think you just wanted a reason to be shirtless in front of me.”

John blinked. He didn’t know what to say to that, the most friendly, nearly flirty thing Elliot Honeysett had said to him in many years—which was saying a lot, considering the last time they had spoken in a friendly manner, she’d hardly said more than a stammer of a sentence to him before Joey Hudson swept her away.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” he managed out after a moment, taking the shirt back from her as he got his mental footing back. “I saw you looking. No need to be shy about it, though—we’ve already established you find me handsome.”

Elliot scoffed, but he saw her face flood with red just before she turned away, pacing to the bathroom at the back of the house. “Found, once, years ago,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t let it inflate your ego, Seed.”

He called after her, “Too late,” and she slammed the bathroom door; the very definitive sound of the shower running echoed in the empty house, and John exhaled a small breath in relief.

As he inspected the bloodstain that had gathered on the front of the shirt, he felt a pleasant little thrill in his chest; a stain was a small price to pay for having made Elliot squirm her way out of that conversation, he supposed, and he remembered the way Joseph had said, I like to see the impact he’s had on you. 

Not so wild now, John thought, are you, hellcat?  

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The benefits of a hot shower were never to be underestimated.

Though Elliot had gone into her shower feeling bedraggled, worn down, furious, and more than unseated—both by Joseph’s assertion that there was a yet to be had with the friendliness of their relations, but also by John’s casual confidence in her attraction to him.

She wasn’t attracted to him. John had held her under like he was going to drown her, really drown her. He’d wanted to tattoo wrath right on her chest.  

Elliot’s fingers fluttered over the spot where John’s had dragged, just a day or so ago now, as he said, I think it’ll fit nicely right here, don’t you think? Maybe just over her heart. The same place dream-John had touched, the same place her skin had been burning when flower-eyed John, spilling petals from his mouth, had gripped her face in his hands.

They were getting mixed up in her head now, all of these Johns: the John she had spooned for warmth with in the forest, the John that hadn’t complained when she anchored her fingers into his arm for steadiness, the John that held each side of her face while her body and mind split, somewhere in the middle, bringing her back down before she slipped away permanently; they all wove and intermingled themselves with the others that she knew, the Johns that kidnapped her friends or kidnapped her or held her under or leered at her in a bar when she was young.

It was almost— almost —romantic, the kind of ferocious dichotomy she would have read in a book somewhere, sometime, in a place where she still had the leisure to do something like that: read a book, take a nap, browse television channels. 

Almost, but not quite, because there was and could never be something romantic about John Seed.

Elliot startled out of her thoughts when someone knocked on the bathroom door, the sound echoing in the small bathroom much louder than she thought the knocks would have actually been.

“You’re not climbing through the window right now, are you?” John’s voice came through the door. Elliot quickly wiped the amusement she felt creeping into her face and ducked her head under the water, the heat of it stinging her wound in a sort of catharsis.

“If I was,” Elliot called back, “what would you do?”

“Very funny, Elliot.” And then: “I’d probably kick this door down.”

“How very caveman.”

“Well, you know—desperate times. Plus, I hear women like that kind of thing.”

She rubbed her face with both hands to stop the smile tugging at her mouth. She had to keep focused: she had to remember the way John had practically glowed, radioactive with pride at Joseph’s praise that he’d made an impact on her, that he was changing her. For the better, they thought. For them. Elliot had hardly seen John around his brothers, but the short amount of time that she had (and wasn’t drugged out of her mind) it had become very clear to her that the relationship between them wasn’t as easy to swallow as she would have thought.

But it was easy, when she was given the luxury of a hot shower that molded all of her muscles into relaxation, to feel like they were on a team. It was easy—especially when John had handled her so carefully, like his hands hadn’t inflicted pain on numerous other people, like he hadn’t carved sin after sin into flesh as a macabre brand. Easy, Elliot thought, willing herself to turn off the hot water, because she couldn’t stay in a shower forever. Easy to forget. I can’t forget what’s happened.

“Any chance you’ve got some jeans out there?” Elliot said, stepping out of the shower and finding a clean (clean?) towel hanging; she didn’t have much time to be picky, so she wrapped it around herself and squeezed some of the water out of her hair. Outside, she could hear John stomping around, fumbling through things, and once she’d gotten mostly dried off she opened the door.

“Oh,” John said, like he hadn’t been expecting her, standing just a foot away from the door and holding a collection of clothes in his arms. Jeans, it looked like, and a few shirts. His own shirt was back on, the dark bloodstain turning the navy blue nearly black on the front.

“Oh?” Elliot prompted. She held her hand out for the clothes while the other kept the towel in place.

“It’s just that you look...” He paused, and then handed her the clothes, regarding her almost warily. “You look—”

And he stopped again, and Elliot thought, well go on, spit it out, then, her eyebrows arching upward expectantly.

“Nice,” he said after a moment. As though catching himself, he amended, “Normal, I mean.”

Elliot’s expression deadpanned. “I am normal, John. You’re the one that’s part of a cult, remember?”

He squinted his eyes at her. The spell was broken; the clock had struck midnight; he was no longer enchanted with her, numerous days of grime scrubbed off of her body.

Rather than argue the logistics of his family’s venture being a cult or not, John said, “Change quick, it shouldn’t take long for them to get the radio ready.”

“Yes, boss,” Elliot replied demurely, mimicking the words he’d used when she’d told him to shut up and be a good blanket. John’s eyes flashed to her face and then away, but she didn’t spend too long trying to parse out what his expression was; she closed the door and busied herself with shimmying into the clothes, leftovers from Eden’s Gate members, it seemed. Relatively clean, too, considering she usually saw peggies in various states of disarray and neglect.

After she’d pulled the rest of her clothes on, the white shirt—clearly meant for a man—nearly swallowing her up, she kicked the old, dirty clothes out of the way and opened the door.

“Would you have really kicked the door down if I was climbing through the window?” Elliot asked, scrunching her hair. The back of her head throbbed, but in a pleasant way; the wound had been thoroughly rinsed, and though it still ached from Jacob’s foot slamming the brakes, she didn’t think it was concussive. Yet.

John leaned against the door, regarded her with a dry expression. “Why?” he asked. She opened the door from the “guest house”—it was really more a bunkhouse than anything—and shrugged.

“I hear women like that kind of thing.”

A swift, easy breeze drifted through the doorway as Elliot stepped outside, taking one moment—just one moment—to close her eyes, and breathe, and think, I’m so close, Joey, to rescuing you. I’m so close, I swear I’m on my way to you. Please, just hold out for a little longer.

“—than woman.” John’s voice rattled around in her head, and she opened her eyes looking at him over her shoulder.

“What was that?” she asked.

He sidled up behind her, his hands in his pockets, and bent just a little at the waist so he could say into her ear, “I said, it’s a good thing you’re more devil than woman,” and against the wishes of her mind, the skin of her neck prickled with goosebumps.

She scrunched her shoulder up to her ear to fend him off. “That’s right, John,” she replied evenly, “I am a devil, and don’t you forget it.”

Elliot saw movement out of the corner of her eye, her body stiffening a little before she turned her gaze and saw that it was Joseph, standing at the steps of the church.

“Children,” he called, his voice welling with some kind of emotion that Elliot couldn’t quite pin down—perhaps amusement, or something else. “Are you done? The radio is ready for you, deputy.”

“Born done with this one,” Elliot replied, feeling the small smile that had been fighting its way onto her face slip from her features. There was just something about Joseph that put her on edge; every second she spent in her presence reminded her of the way he’d looked at her, that night in the church, when he’d said, God will not let you take me.

Like she was the only person in the room. Like she was the only person that had mattered.

Elliot liked to think that she was not the kind of person that would be so easily won over by a cult—but she also knew that they looked for people like her, people with a history of trauma, people who had fewer parents than a child ought to have, people whose one functioning parent was only barely functioning and only crested the standard when they had a few drinks in them. She was exactly the kind of person that Joseph nurtured, cradled, forgave, and she thought that for a second in that church, that night, she had thought about how nice it would be to feel that. Once.

But she had a family, and people who cared about her and relied on her and would miss her. Like Joey.

With long strides, she crossed the small courtyard to the church and stopped in front of Joseph, waiting for him to move aside so that she could go in.

“Feeling better?” Joseph asked her mildly, and when he didn’t move aside she shouldered past him. “You look like one of us.”

“Peachy,” Elliot replied flatly; she purposefully ignored his last words, rinsing them away by focusing on the task at hand. The inside of the church was dim, with only the Eden’s Gate window at the back. Her stomach dropped unpleasantly; a surge of panic washed through her, and she was suddenly reminded of the feeling of Eden’s Gate members shoving past her, watching her through fringes of dark, dirty hair, and Joseph, hands outstretched, waiting.

And John, prowling in the background, ever a predator waiting for his prey.

Joseph brushed past her, walking down between the rows of seating to where Jacob had set up a table, the radio crackling as he adjusted some settings on it. Elliot pushed her way down as well, hating that her steps faltered, that Jacob’s piercing eyes caught every step that didn’t quite hit the way that she wanted it to. Behind her, she heard the easy, confident cadence of John’s steps, the door to the outside shutting.

For the first time since getting in the truck, Elliot felt like she was in the belly of the beast. If only, a voice inside of her said, if only you had known this then, instead of now.

“Well,” Jacob said, “are you going to call them or not?”

She snatched the radio out of his outstretched hand, her heart hammering in her chest. So close; she was so close. If she wanted to, she could tell Jerome and the others where she was, flush the Seeds out well and good once and for all.

But she couldn’t, because she still needed them. At least, she needed one of them, to get Joey back.

Elliot adjusted the settings on the radio to the proper channels, swallowing thickly, and hit the button on the side. Joseph lingered under the window, a few feet away, his back to her; behind her, she heard John’s steps pacing closer to her.

The radio clicked, static buzzing patiently on the end. Her mouth felt dry. “Jerome?” she asked, tentatively into the static. “Jerome, do you—read? It’s me.” And then, quickly and feeling like an idiot, “Elliot, I mean. It’s me, Elliot.”

Silence stretched on the other side for just a moment. Then, the static crackled, and a familiar voice broke over the radio, “Elliot? It’s so good to hear your voice again. Thank God, we were—” Jerome’s voice broke up a little, and then picked up, “—about you. Where are you? Did you get away from John?”

Relief immediately flooded her system, the sensation almost painful; her heart thudded painfully against her chest, and she gripped the table with her free hand to keep herself steady.

“I—” Elliot paused. Her gaze flickered to John, who now lingered to the right of her; Jacob loomed to the left, and Joseph, ever the pinnacle, ever the point of the pyramid, just in front of her. The closest to heaven.

John’s gaze weighed down on her, pinning her, so that instinctively she wanted to squirm right out of it.

“—I’m okay, don't worry about me," she said after a moment. "I'm on my way to get Joey. Jerome, I need you to listen to me."

“Tell me where you are,” Jerome insisted, his voice crackling through the radio with urgency. “We’ll help you get Hudson back. It’s been quiet, here.”

John rolled his eyes, barely veiling his contempt. Elliot shot him a look and cleared her throat, trying to ignore the way that the pastor’s words clutched and pulled at her heart. Jerome’s voice was like a balm to her nerves; she realized, quite suddenly, how much she actually missed being around people who weren’t the Seeds, or members of Eden’s Gate—someone who actually cared about her.

“Please listen to me,” she tried again. “There’s someone else here. A different group, a new—cult. They’re here and I think they’re going to wipe everyone out. I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but you need to take everyone out of Fall’s End and get them out of here, okay? Everyone, and just evacuate as fast as you can.”

“What? Elliot, what are you talking about? ” Jerome’s voice faltered for a moment, and then he said, “Please don’t try and Atlas this thing, deputy.”

Elliot pressed her hand to her forehead. When she lifted her head, Jacob’s eyes were fixed on her, and he said, “Two minutes, deputy.”

Of course, she thought, both exhausted and infuriated. This fucking Darwinian psycho wouldn’t want to give them a fighting chance.  "There wasn't a fucking time limit on this radio call before."

"You're calling the people that want us dead," Jacob deadpanned. "One minute."

Elliot wanted to say that not even a full minute had passed, but she knew better. She bit down on her cheek until she tasted cooper, trying to refocus her attention.

“There’s no time, Jerome,” she insisted, talking faster now as the proverbial clock ticked down. “Take everyone from Fall’s End and leave, okay? I’m getting Joey and we’ll meet up with you a town over, or further way—just don’t stop driving. I can’t explain anymore. I have to go. Jerome?”

There was no answer on the other end for a minute; she could picture Jerome and Mary May arguing back and forth about what they needed to do for this, for her, and her heart ached a little in her chest. Finally, his voice crackled through: “I hear you, but Elliot—let one of us come and help. We’ll get you and Joey out of here.”

“Give Mary May a hug for me, okay? And get Dutch, and everyone, and get the fuck out of here.”

“Elliot.” Jerome’s voice had changed. Her hand had gone to turn the radio off, but it stilled. “Tell me you’re alright and mean it.”

It wasn’t his Resistance Business voice, anymore, and nor was it his pastor voice. It was his dad voice, firm and unrelenting, but not unkind. It welled with gentle affection.

Elliot felt her vision wobble a little. It was embarrassing, that Jerome could disarm her this far away, without seeing her or knowing what the last two days had been. She swallowed thickly and ducked her head against her chest a little when her breath shuddered in her chest.

“We’re worried about you, kid. All of us.”

“Deputy,” Jacob said, impatient, and Jerome continued, “You can tell me if it’s not okay.”

“I’m alright,” she managed out into the radio, willing the tears back away, back from where they had come from. “I’m alright, Jerome, I promise. Please get everyone out of here.”

She put the radio back down on the table and switched it off; she exhaled sharply, once, through her nose. Her chest felt tight, and her body ached, every muscle and tendon and joint in her body feeling deeply bruised. She thought, for one awful, terrible moment, that she might actually start crying right here in front of all of the men she least wanted to do that in front of.

“I guess we’ll see if they make it out,” Jacob said, his voice painstakingly casual and clipped all at once. Elliot felt something hot and sticky flare in her chest, like all of the oxygen had been sucked right out of the air around her. "And if they don't, well—probably means they weren't ever meant to."

She didn’t want to think about the Resistance not making it out; she didn’t want to think about the slow, oozing creep of the cult sidling up on them, of Ase’s fingers on their faces, lovingly planting their gutted corpses with fresh, vibrant blooms.

“Shut the fuck up,” she managed out, her voice wobbling. Jacob’s mouth curved at the corner into something like a wicked smile; he might have been infuriated by her petulance, she thought, if her voice wasn’t thick and wet with unshed tears. She straightened up, digging her nails into her palms, thinking, I could kill him right now, wrap my hands right around that big neanderthal neck and strangle the life right out of him.

But she couldn’t, even if at that moment she really wanted to, because talking to Jerome for even that short time had reminded her about what it felt like to have people around her that cared about her; it had reminded her about being around people that she trusted, that trusted her, that shared the same beliefs. That wanted to take care of her.

She had almost forgotten that, being handcuffed to John Seed for almost two days straight.

“We’ll pray for their safe departure, of course,” Joseph said. His words echoed, tinny and hollow, in her head. She blinked furiously. Elliot was only vaguely aware of John pacing back across the room and saying something to her, but she couldn’t hear what it was; not really.

I am so tired, she thought, over the sound of John talking to her. I am so tired, and I want to go home.

“When will your peggies be back?” she asked, interrupting the sound of Jacob and John blustering back and forth. Joseph paused, and then cocked his head at Jacob expectantly. She waited for one more beat and then said, louder and with more fervent impatience, “I said, when will your little cockroaches be back from finding Joey and Faith?”

Jacob replied, bitingly, “Within the next few hours. They’re going to pin down a location and get back to us.”

“Great.” Elliot turned on her heel, marching herself down the same hallway that just a little over a week ago, she had been walking down with Burke and Whitehorse. “Fuck off until then, you piece of shit.”

It felt like her lungs might burst, or her heart might beat right out of her chest, before she made it out of the stifling darkness of the church. She pushed the door open and hurried outside to take a lungful of fresh air, air unpopulated and unshared with Seed boys.

I’m just one girl. The thought was a desperate one, one that turned over and over again in her mind. That these things were just happening to her, that she had no agency in her life, that it might always be like this. Forever. I’m just one girl.

Elliot walked to the bunkhouse, pushing each step into the dirt in the hopes of feeling more grounded, each breath of air slowly bringing her back to the earth. When she made it inside, she closed the door quickly behind her and paced, rubbing her face. The bunkhouse no longer felt surprisingly clean. It only served as a reminder of where she was, where she wasn’t, where she might never go again.

She pushed her hands against her face until spiderwebs crawled behind her eyelids. They blistered, red fractals of light swimming in her non-vision. She was only a girl, and she was alone—no family and no friends nearby to help, and that was supposed to be good; if Jerome listened to her, they'd be out of Hope County within a few hours.

There was no more room for error. Fall's End evacuating meant there was no rescue party coming, in spite of her words. It meant that she was really only going to get one shot at getting in and getting out, for good. Get Joey, get Boomer, get out. Period.

The door clicked open. Footsteps echoed against the hollow wooden flooring. It was John; she could tell by the way he walked. “Elliot.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, not a how are you, but something else, something that Elliot didn’t know what he meant and or what he was saying or what he thought to gain from it. Did he ever do anything that didn't have any personal gain for him?

“John,” Elliot said, her hands pressed into her face, “can you just leave? I am so tired of hearing your voice.”

“Elliot,” John said again, “take a breath.”

“I am breathing, you fuckhead,” she snapped viciously, turning to face him—John, in his stupid fucking designer shirt, his head cocked to the side as he watched her, the venom in her voice landing but not hitting the way it should have. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be alone? Really, truly alone? Like, for fucking good, unless by some godforsaken miracle your insane brothers don’t kill me as soon as I’ve served the purpose of fetching Faith back.”

“I do," John replied angrily, "and they don’t want to—”

“Oh fuck off, John.” She raked her fingers through her hair. There was a nasty, wicked monster, crawling up from through her, fingers sliding between the slats of her ribs to get a good grip. “You should see yourself whenever Joseph says anything. You practically fall over to kiss the ground he fucking walks on, and for what? For him to give you a little pat on the head? You’d do absolutely anything he asked you to. You’re fucking pathetic.”

That hit the way she wanted to. She saw the hurt slide across John’s face, and then the anger, a power-point presentation on How To Make One Man Hate You. 

“You have a lot of nerve, deputy,” John bit out (and she didn’t miss the way he no longer was using her name, like he wanted to distance himself from her), “to talk to me like that, given that you would probably be lying dead in a field with flowers coming out of your eyes without me. Not to mention that you need us to get your little friend Hudson back—”

“It’s your fucking fault!”

She felt the rasp in her throat, the claws of sickness shredding her delicate insides as her voice flexed painfully in volume. John was staring at her, and she thought, I have to stop yelling, I have to stop, this is just what they want, for me to lose control, but she couldn’t, the words welling up inside of her, wrecked and vicious, and she felt like all of the blood had fled from her hands and feet; she was ice, now, frigid and unyielding.

John’s mouth twisted, like he was shaping the words he wanted to say before he said them. He started, less heated this time, “Elliot—”

“It’s your fault,” she interrupted, clenching her fists at her sides until her hands itched and burned with the intense need for circulation. “It’s your fault—I should—I should be leaving with Fall’s End and leaving this absolute fucking nightmare behind, or—or maybe that shouldn’t be happening at all because this is my fucking home and you and your stupid family took that from me, and I fucking hate you, John Seed, John Duncan, whatever the fuck your name is, whoever the fuck you are, I don’t care and I hate you!”

He stepped forward, his hands lifted, like he was going to touch her; perhaps rest his hands on her shoulders, take her face the way he’d grown so accustomed to doing when her breathing shallowed and her eyes unfocused. But she pushed his arms out of her immediate vision, and while infuriatingly he didn’t get out of her space she still bit out, crushing the words on their way past her teeth, “Don’t fucking touch me, John,” and his hands dropped back to his sides. 

She tried to ignore the strange, fleeting disappointment: as though she had been anticipating his grounding touch, as though she had wanted it, her body betraying her words and her head.

No more, she thought through the haze in her mind, no more of that.

He shifted on his feet. “You’re tired,” he said after a moment, which sounded not like the thing that he wanted to say but instead the thing that he decided was safe. “You should rest. The search parties will be back soon, and you’ll need to be at full capacity.”

Elliot stared at the bloodstain on his shirt. It felt like all of her insides had been scooped out, emptying her; her stomach twisted, both with anxiety and hunger.

“Yeah,” she replied numbly. “Alright, John.”

He turned on his heel, walking through the door to the bunkhouse and letting it swing shut behind him. The room felt colder without another human body in there; emptier, lonelier. Elliot sat herself down on the wooden floor and pushed her face into her knees.

This wasn’t supposed to be me. Her ears rang, her heart thudding painfully in her chest, a black stone falling over and over until her ribs bruised and cracked. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

She closed her eyes tight, arms looped around her knees, pressed against the wall of the bunkhouse, and willed herself to sleep.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

@marriedtotheenemy asked: "I would love to hear about Hop and the kids trying to cook thanksgiving dinner, and Billy reading about what the settlers did to the first Americans. Also, total inability to cook turkey!"

YES!! Okay okay let’s see here…

Hop 100% has not had a big Thanksgiving dinner in a LONG time. He just… hasn’t had a family to have a big dinner with, y’know?? And it’s sad. For the past few years when Thanksgiving would come around he’d head out to Benny’s diner to hang out with him and the other lonely/divorced/widowed people of Hawkins. He used to get offers from women he was… “friendly” with. He got an offer from Callahan and Powell one year to spend the day with their respective families. One year Joyce reached out…

But spending time with Benny was always better. Felt a little less lonely, if that can be believed. Benny always felt like family. He treated everyone like it. He was able to see any outsider and find warmth in his heart for them.

But then when… those people… in his own diner….

Anyway, when the first Thanksgiving with El rolled around she had JUST moved into Hop’s cabin and he didn’t necessarily have the means of making a major dinner. Plus, doing that for just the two of them didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Not to mention the girl didn’t even KNOW anything about Thanksgiving and he decided, rather than explain everything about every holiday ever, he’d just forego telling her. They had a nice night eating some overdone spaghetti and extra-seasoned meatballs. El seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. Hop tried to keep his mind off of his friend. And Barb and those nightmares and...

But flashforward a year or so and Hop’s cabin is bustling because El is officially wise to holidays. Billy had a fun time giving her borderline incorrect information about them all, like that Easter is about a gigantic, pastel colored chicken laying eggs everywhere followed by an entourage of chocolate flavored bunnies. (“What?” Billy had said through a smirk when Hop expressed disdain. “Bunnies don’t lay eggs. Mine makes more sense.”)

But now…

Well, El has been asking Billy all week about Thanksgiving. she refuses to ask Hop about holidays anymore after he said Valentine's day is "a hack holiday made by a bunch of candy companies who are draining our wallets pretending love is about chocolate."

She didn't like that, especially since Mike bought her a box of chocolates and Max bought her a fluffy stuffed teddy bear (she still wears the ribbon that came around his neck in her hair. Max smiles when she sees it) and El thought it was the best day EVER. She much preferred Billy's description of Cupid's army, even though flying babies sounded kind of ridiculous to her...

But Billy's fun is ending bc she’s realized that Billy’s been pulling her leg about most holidays (“What do you mean you don’t believe in the Great Pumpkin? Snoopy said so.” “No. Linus said so.” “Whatever. ”) So all week he’s been fibbing and all week she’s been giving him A Look.

“I know there’s no big turkey.”

“How do you know?”

El furrows her eyebrows. She takes a second to think about it.

“I just know.” She says, arms crossed and nose crinkled. Billy rolls his eyes and shrugs.

But she keeps asking. And he keeps telling stories and she keeps saying no so.

Billy tosses a book onto their coffee table.

"Alright kid, happy turkey day."

El eyes it curiously, unsure of the words on the cover.

"Whats this?"

"A book about Thanksgiving. From the library. Don't say i don't love you."

Billy's face immediately burns red after he says it. El gives a blinding smile and a little "love you too!" Billy shoves her shoulder and starts reading the book for her.

And let me tell you, it's probably the worst thing Hop could imagine happening today.

Because this is no kids book about turkeys and stuffing and sweet little people gathering around becoming friends. No, of course Billy had to go check out a book about what really happened and honestly, Hop doesn't know why he's surprised.

So there he is, in the kitchen, taking the turkey out of the fridge and scratching his head at how the fuck he's gonna cook this, when…

"Holy shit! They did what?"

Goddamnit Billy.

"DAD!"

Hop almost drops the turkey.

"What?!"

Billy storms into the kitchen, waving the book in his hand, trailed by a wide eyed, frightened El.

"What the fuck?"

"Language." Hop grumbles as he puts the turkey down.

"The pilgrims are shitheads."

"Billy!"

"Seriously! Look at this." And now Billy is walking towards Hop with the book open, showing him columns of text and samples of writings detailing sicknesses and fights and-

"Theyre bullies." El says from her spot near the couch.

"Yeah what is this??"

Hop rolls his eyes.

"Do you not pay attention in school-"

"Did you not pay attention? All they do is suck America's di-"

"Okay enough! Enough! Yeah, the pilgrims weren't .. great."

And honestly Hop doesn't know a whole lot about the settlers. Hes heard stuff, mainly from Joyce around senior year when she would complain to him about how America is nowhere NEAR as great as everyone says. Hop just remembers trying to kiss her to get her to stop and then getting slapped for it.

But here's his kid, ranting about settlers and pilgrims and diseases and-

"Alright alright alright, they were bad! I get it, i know, but… we made Thanksgiving a good thing now." He looks El in the eye. "It's about family now. Maybe it's a bad reason to get together but… any reason to spend time with family is a… A good one, right?"

El takes a second… but she nods. Billy is still scowling, but Hop handles the book out of his hands and slides it on top of the kitchen cabinets where even Billy can't reach.

"Alright, no more pilgrim talk, help me with the turkey, kid."

Billy grumbles a bit, but he walks over to help while El pulls a chair up to the counter and watches intently, confused by something so big and so… raw.

Thing is...

"The ovens not big enough."

Hop freezes.

"Of course it's big enough." Hes sure. Hes made a turkey in here before… right?

"Nope." Billy says plainly. "Look."

"I've made turkeys in here before!"

"You made a turkey for yourself in your dusty old cabin?" Billy asks, voice strained from holding the huge turkey and heaving it up onto the stovetop.

And that hits Hop like a freight train. Because of fucking course he hasn't. Why would he? It's just…

He has a family again. And it feels like hes had them for years. Their whole lives. He remembers the feeling of before. The feeling of helping Sara mash the potatoes. Of watching his wife glaze the turkey. Of carving it.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Billys hand on his shoulder pulls him out.

"That's not gonna work, old man." Billy says condescendingly and itd get on Hop's nerves if the boys eyes werent flooded with concern for something Hop knows he knows.

So…

"It'll fit."

"Uhhh…." Billy says, watching Hop shove the turkey in sideways unseasoned and…

Hop turns around with renewed vigor.

But he has no recipes. He uses to have some from his last mother but his ex wife took a good chunk of them in the divorce ans he threw the rest out in a fit of depression one night. And now they can't use the oven for anything and they don't have enough bread for stuffing (Hop sends Billy and El out to the store with money) and after hours of raiding their kitchen and trying to boil the potatoes enough to be mashedd, El shrieks.

Billy turns to her and sees her pointing at-

"The oven!"

Is on fire.

Hop grabs the fire extinguisher, cussing the flames out as he sprays them.

Billy grabs El and pulls her away from the kitchen and they stand there, frozen as Hop battles the fire like it's a goddamn demogorgon. When it's just about out, he looks at El and nods towards the phone.

"Call Joyce."

Billy helps Hop pull the burnt as hell turkey out of the oven and into the dumpster out back, before getting the nod from El and guiding Hop into his truck, El holding the pumpkin pie she and Billy bought at the store bc they knew this wasn't going to go well.

Will greets the three of them at the door with a laugh.

"Thanks pipsqueak." Billy says while mussing up Will's hair.

And it's a LOVELY dinner, truly. Jonathan helps his mom cook, Billy helps El and Will get the plates down from the cabinets, and Hop does his damnedest to carve the turkey (but hes a little out of practice, so Jonathan has to step in)("he's been doing it for a few years now, Hop, just let him" Joyce says gently.)

And it's just so warm. Everyone is smiling and talking and eating happily and it's so nice and Billy can't help but think about Max while Hop can't help but think about Sara but looking around the table at everyone laughing and then they look to each other and smile and…

It's wonderful.

El calls Max so Billy can talk to her on the phone and wish her a Happy Thanksgiving. Will and Jonathan give their mom the first slice of pie, as always. Billy and Jonathan bicker in their oddly amiable way as El uses her powers to help Will begin decorating for Christmas. They're just a family, one big, odd, extremely happy family and its weird, yeah, but damn if they aren't the happiest people alive.

[hargroves-angel]

you and billy get in a fight and he asks max for help

I Really Fucking Like You Billy Hargrove

Summary - Billy does something he regrets but lets his temper get the best of him resulting in you and him having an argument, however this just makes Billy even more angry causing Max to help her step brother out.

Warnings - Swearing, Billy being mean, Angst, Fluff

A/N - So sorry that this took so long to get out I’ve got a lot to do this week so uploads are going to be spaced out, I hope that’s ok, I apologise in advance though angels!

The front door slammed shut gaining Max’s attention away from her homework. Billy was obviously home. he’d actually been pretty happy recently especially after having been dating you. He just hadn’t stopped smiling, she thought he was sick! you were having some sort of effect on him and it was quite scary for Max, someone had tamed the beast in her eyes. 

Billy hadn’t stopped being annoying but he wasn’t as mean, he even apologised to her for the whole car and her friends incident. 

“Fucking bitch” Billy grumbled as he walked past her open door. “Turn down that fucking music!” he yelled at her from his room. She rolled her eyes but none the less turned it down, going to shut her door. 

That’s when she got really confused. Were those sobs? from Billys room? Was he crying?

She peaked her head round the gap of his door. 

He had his head in his hands. She glanced around at the room seeing how much you really had changed him, everywhere was clean. No dirty washing, no empty beer cans, no cigarette butts in the ash tray. it was so clean. 

“What the fuck do you want shithead?” Billy growled. 

“What happened?” Billy shook his head and laughed lowly. 

“Why do you even care?” He shoved his head back in his hands. Max slowly crept over to sit next to him on the bed. 

“Because like you said, we’re family now… we’ve got to look out for each other” she mumbled cringing at her words as she looked around at his transformed room. To be honest you should come round more often, her room could do with a reorganisation.

“yeah well whatever, doesn’t even matter anyway”

“It clearly matters Billy, I’ve never seen you cry-”

“I wasn’t even crying… that much. Basically we went to a party and I got really drunk, I ended up kissing some girl… I thought it was Y/N, I promise I thought it was her- Same hair, same eyes, same everything to me at the time. The worst part is that this girl pulled me in for the kiss first and me thinking it was Y/N - I just kissed back” Max sucked in a breath. “I should’ve known it wasn’t her - and then I started yelling at her… Fuck I feel so bad” Billy shoved his head in his hands. 

“Well I think… the best thing is to talk to her”

“Ive already done that Maxine, she doesn’t want to talk about it”

“I don’t think think yelling about your point is the same as talking Billy” Max mumbled. 

“Whatever, It’s just she deserves more then just some half assed apology… She’s so important to me Max…”

“How about tomorrow you show up at her house, pick her up and take her to that movie she wanted to watch”

“What movie?” Billy asked genuinely confused.

“she’s been talking about it loads! It’s all she mentions?” 

With that Billy shoved his head right back in his hands. “I didn’t even fucking know that- you know what Maxine, fuck you! get the fuck out of my room now”

“Wait what?!” Max furrowed her eyebrows and huffed.

“Just fucking get out!” Billy yelled at her. Max knew better than to stay, she stomped out. Billy was definitely falling hard for Y/N, in a way it amused her, to see him even getting all angry every time a love song played, let’s just say he’s been working out a lot recently, he was hitting the weights every chance he got whilst the radio played some sort of love song, but it was when your song came on did she see Billy really fall apart, he dropped the weight on the floor and stomped into his room, anger and hurt radiating off him.  

Thats when she felt bad, he usually didn’t give a shit, every girl he’d been with eventually got mad or fed up of his antics and he would come home, bitch about them and then sleep it off not even caring about it the next day. He was so grumpy now a days so she had to do something. So she made a plan, she was going to get you two back together again. God knows you were both way too stubborn and Billy had locked himself at home for the most part, rock music blaring through the walls, the heavy stench of cigarettes and Mary-Jane coming from his room, but as much as she disliked her older step brother she knew she had to help him. 

You were definitely the nicest girl he’d dated. 

So that’s what she did. At 7am sharpish she asked Billy to take her to the lake, to “Meet some friends” He said no at first obviously so she did a bit of extra planning and made a deal, Dad won’t know about weed as long as Billy agrees to take her. He agreed eventually. 

Little did billy know that he was to meet you at that lake. Max had told you to meet her at the lake because she wanted to talk about ‘girl problems’ shed been having and she didn’t want to say it at home because it was embarrassing. 

Billy drove the whole way, cigarette dangling from his lips, sunglasses covering his sleep deprived eyes. 

She noticed how he hadn’t been sleeping recently. He’d been up all night crying but she wouldn’t tell him she knew because he sure as hell would have her for it. 

she impatiently tapped her foot on the floor of the Camaro, her lip caught between her teeth as she chewed on it nervously. This could go a few ways, either Billy gets hurt or you get hurt or maybe you make up. She hoped that you would make up. 

“Would you quit fucking tapping, so fucking annoy-” He paused as he saw you, he pulled into the clearing. 

“I have to go! Ummm maybe you should talk to her” Max ran out of the car. 

“You little fucking sh-” He stopped as he watched you turn around, your eyes landing on the blue car. He saw your smile slip, your eyebrows furrowing and a frown on your face. 

You were wearing his AC/DC shirt. He sighed, opening the door the cigarette being discarded on the floor. 

“Hey!, angel… look im really fucking sorry princess”

“Really Billy! Because Dana told me you didn’t care” You huffed. 

“Look just let me explain…” He felt his patience wearing thin. 

“No Billy! Because every time I let you ‘explain’ you end up yelling at me! telling me it’s my fault and im sorry but I don’t think I can-”

“I DON’T FUCKING YELL” He yelled. A regretful expression on his face as he carded his hands through the ends of his hair. He realised what he’d done, he sighed. “Im working on it baby” his eyes flickered to the floor. “It’s just gonna take time… I promise im working on it” 

“How much time Billy!? Because we’ve been together for 3 months now and you still have this temper! You don’t know how to control yourself, sometimes I get scared, and I know you won’t ever hurt me but, its just I hate this constant screaming match between us, I really fucking like you Billy Hargrove”

He sniffed, his nose scrunching as he looked away, thinking. He felt his eyes gloss over with tears again. He hated crying in front of you. He sniffed again, his face getting more scrunched up as he tried to hold back the tears. he felt your arms wrap around his waist. Your head rest against his chest as you held him. He’d cuddled you before, hell you’d hugged so many times but this felt like more. 

He felt the tears fall. You looked up at him and cradled his cheek in your hand. He still looked the other way, he hated you to see him like this.

“I really fucking like you” you whispered he stood stiff, not being used to this full out intimate feeling. He started to blink and shift his head to look down at you. he placed his hand on top of your one which was holding his cheek. 

“Im sorry…” he mumbled, his eyes were red and puffy. You nodded. 

“I know baby, it’s ok. I believe you over Dana, and im sorry for being impatient, you’re right, we are working on it… slowly but surely” You got on your tip toes to kiss him, he leaned down to meet your lips. you kissed passionately for what felt like hours until Max intervened. 

“Finally you’ve made up! Now can we stop being so dramatic and get home because I can’t do much with a skateboard in a wooded area” She held up her skateboard, her eyebrows raised at you both. 

“Sometimes I really fucking despise you Maxine, but you get the day off for now” Billy grumbled. His arm wrapping around your waist as you kissed his cheek. 

“You need a shower Hargrove, you reek of weed” You giggled into his ear. 

“Suppose you’re gonna have to take one with me, make sure im getting the smell out and everything” he mumbled.

“Ugh get a room” Max cringed as she shoved herself back into Billys car. Thank god she’d gotten you two back together otherwise she’d have to listen to (in her opinion) Billys god awful music for hours. she rolled her eyes and smirked at him. As much of a dick he was, he was family now.