#to be clear i would have KILLED for some potato fries but all the places serving them were way out of budget

[bang-bang-gang]

we visited the village of dragør yesterday and there was like one cafe with one vegan sandwich in stock but the wait time would be 40 minutes. i said no thank you. i sat outside in the heat of the sun miserably while my friends got milkshakes and meat sandwiches. at one point i was staring at this spanish speaking guy next to me with a “respect existence / or expect resistance” anticarnist shirt seriously debating asking him what he was doing with this whole food situation in dragør and what kind of resistance he was thinking of. then he got called over by the lady from the cafe and got handed that one vegan sandwich he’d clearly waited 40 minutes for. my friends fed me oreos and grapes.

shortly after my friends were done with their real food we walked past a gas station and the angels started singing as the sweet logo of the seven eleven revealed itself to me. i had some banana bread. dragør redeemed itself to me.

more copenhagen thoughts: praise be upon seven eleven. i live there now. there’s one on every fucking corner and they all sell vegan snacks. fuck yeah

[messrmoonyy]

Would it be possible for a Steven grant x reader where you are stood up for a date the same night steven missed his date with Dylan? Maybe you start talking to each other and it’s like a date? It’s fine if not. Have a nice day!

The vegan in the steak house

Steven grant x reader

A/N- hellooo! Thank you for the request. Sorry this took forever. I did unintentionally alter the day in which this takes place. In the show it’s a Sunday and he’s supposed to have met Dylan on the Friday. My brain just held on to Friday and when I finshed if mentioned Friday far too many times to bother to change it so. It’s Friday. Anyways. Enjoy.

Warnings: none.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist- request open!

Reblogs and comments are always welcome and appreciated!

Friday nights were one of the busiest of the week. All of the 9-5 office job types, that London seemed to be overflowing with, heading out to relax at the end of their work weeks. You'd always thought that kind of job must be boring as all hell, sitting at a computer all day typing away nonsense emails about god knows what. Though on Fridays you did sometimes wish that was your job.

Rushing around like a headless chicken delivering hot plates of food, standing burning your fingertips off as the customers fannied around about who ordered what, complaining their steak was too cold. Or too hot. Or too small. Or ' not how I usually have it! '. Or when you asked who ordered the side of sweet potato fries and being told ' oh they're Adams!' Like you knew who the fuck Adam was.

You'd kill for a cushy office job on Friday nights.

But thankfully the night was nearly over. You could clock off at 10:30, one of your coworkers wanting the overtime of doing the clean down and close up at the end of the night. Usually you'd have taken it, the extra money was always needed, but you were far too tired today.

You just wanted to drag yourself home, maybe snatch some leftovers from the chef and lock yourself in your tiny little flat until your shift tomorrow. But it's barely 9:30. So it would have to wait just a little longer.

The restaurant was beginning to clear out as close drew nearer, your section empty as you cashed out the last table. There was a couple of tables occupied in your coworkers sections and a table outside. But you guessed you were hopefully done for the night now.

You wiped down the table and debated on asking to leave early seeing as your section was empty, before heading over to the entry desk just to double check no one had a late reservation. That was all you needed. Or the Karen's that liked to appear two minutes before close and demand a table for 12 all wanting steaks.

" table 4 still out there? " you listened in on the conversation as you joined two of your coworkers at the entry desk, making yourself look busy by putting away some menus.

" mhm. He's been there hours now. Kinda sad. Defo been stood up poor guy " she said with a frown.

“ well honestly I’m not surprised. He didn’t even have a reservation. What would he have done if we’d have been full? That’s no good on a date is it “

“ but look at his little flowers! He’s a cutie!”

“ a cutie that’s been stood up “

" what's that? " you asked, curiosity getting the better of you instantly. Your coworker, Amy, turned to you with a sympathetic smile on her face.

" guy out there table 4. Think his date stood him up... thought he'd have gotten the picture by now though. Kinda sad to still wait. She's clearly not coming is she " your eyes followed to where she had nodded. By the window there was a man sat alone at his table. A slightly sad looking bouquet of flowers on top of a chocolate box in front of him.

You'd seen your fair share of poor men and women stood up by dates to recognise one. Sometimes it was quite entertaining to listen in on first dates, cringe at the awkward ones and feel a slight longing at the good ones. You hadn't had a date in... well. You didn't even want to think about how long it had been. Though the poor ditched dates were always heartbreaking to see.

" one of us should go talk to him. Kitchens shutting soon. If he wants food-"

" I'm not doing it " the other waiter said before Amy could even finish her sentence.

" we'll I'm not! Poor little guy. I'm no good with the heartbroken ones. Remember when that one woman started sobbing when I told her the guy had called and cancelled the reservation without telling her? God I’m no good at it " they both glanced at you then. You had a reputation for being so unbelievably nice it was inhuman. Of course they wanted you to go talk to him " y/n? What do you say? Go see if he's alright? You're good with the mopey ones " you glanced back out the window at the man before sighing.

" fine. But but then I'm going home. My sections done "

" superstar! " Amy said and squeezed you in a hug " you got this. I'd probably just make him cry or something "

You grabbed a spray and cloth to clean the tables out there seeing as you were heading out there anyway. And headed for the door to the tables out front, hovering on the doorstep outside when you got a better look at him. He actually looked kind of optimistic still. Like the one he was meant to meet would still arrive. Some poor excuse for being hours late. He looked the type to probably forgive them for it too. It made your heart ache.

You liked to think you were good at reading people. The restaurant offered ample people watching opportunities after all. You could spot the snooty customers a mile off, the kind ones, the couples going through a rough patch, the awkward dates, the good ones. All before anyone ever opened their mouth.

And that hopeful puppy dog expression on the man's face was answer enough for you to decide he was too sweet to be being stood up so brutally.

His leg was bouncing under the table, fingers fiddling restlessly. He was a bundle of nerves clearly. Yet still he had waited for his date to turn up. Your skin prickled with upset. It always hurt seeing people stood up. You’d been stood up a fair few times yourself and it never got any better. Humans wanted to be loved, went on dates to attempt finding love. Only to be left alone. It hurt. It would always hurt.

Maybe that’s why he was still there though. In denial. Desperate to have some chance at love that he was clinging on to a tiny chance his date may appear.

You usually just went home and drowned your sorrows in cheap wine and a Chinese takeaway. To each their own.

You made your way over to the man and put on a smile.

" good evening " you greeted softly " are you still expecting one more? " it felt quite cruel to ask even though you knew the answer already. But you had to be sure. And you couldn't make it obvious you'd all just been watching him and talking about him. He wasn't having a great day as it was. No need to make it any bloody worse.

He looked up from where he'd been staring out to the street, looking for his date no doubt, and your heart practically melted. He looked like a kicked puppy. Big brown eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and dwindling hope that he tried to hide with a small smile, probably starting to feel somewhat embarrassed.

" yeah... not looking too good is it? " he said with a small chuckle but there didn't seem to be much humour in it. Pity flooded your chest and you tried to think of something helpful to say to him.

" maybe give them a call? You know what the traffics like in London" it was a pretty shit suggestion when you thought about it. Yes London traffic was notoriously shocking. But not really at night. Brixton was lively at night but it would be no excuse as to why his date was hours late. Still, he smiled at you all the same and gave a nod.

" yeah... yeah traffic " you excused yourself to clear up the table behind him as he picked up his phone and called whoever it was that had left him sat alone. You tried not to listen in as you sprayed the table and wiped it down. But it was impossible. You were too curious.

" what? What do you mean? It's steak. It's steak time " he said in a joyful voice into the phone. You closed your eyes for a moment, your heart aching for him. His optimism. He hadn’t even said hello so clearly the other person hadn’t either. You wondered what their excuse would be. To be honest you were surprised they’d even answered the phone. Most didn’t " thought we said Wednesday? Wednesday. Today " your brow furrowed. Wednesday? It was very clearly Friday. God if it was Wednesday again you'd slam your head on the table " come on. I think Wednesday still comes after Tuesday doesn't it " was he genuinely convinced it was a Wednesday? No wonder he'd missed his date. No wonder they hadn't arrived.

He brought the phone down from his ear slowly, staring at it for a moment.

" scuse me? Excuse me " he turned to you and you put down the cleaning cloth and headed over. He looked distressed, brow furrowed and eyes slightly wild.

" can I help? "

" what day is it today? " he was. He was convinced it was Wednesday. Was he okay? How had he gotten the day so wrong.

" it's... Friday " you said slowly, almost waiting for him to laugh and say the entire thing was a big prank. You were on one of those 'what would you do' hidden camera shows. But no. No camera jumped out to surprise you. His face just fell, wide eyes going glassy as they appeared to fill with tears.

" Friday " he whispered to himself, looking down at the table and away from you. You didn’t quite know what to say as you stood there slightly awkwardly. He was shaking his head in disbelief, muttering quietly to himself.

You spotted Amy inside tapping her wrist as if to indicate the time and you sighed, closing your eyes again hating that he was clearly upset. Yet you still had to do your job.

" the... the kitchens closing in a few minutes... would you like to order anything or.. " He looked up at you with those puppy dog eyes of his, still glassy with tears that he was clearly fighting to keep in. He seemed to take a second to realise what you'd asked him, before slowly nodding

" yeah I will... I will have a steak " you pulled your pad and pen from your apron, clicking the pen. You watched as he sat up more, still not looking at you but that confusion morphing into a solemn look as he looked out towards the street.

" okay that’s fine... And what cut would you like? " you weren't being as formal as you usually would have been. Talking to him like an Injured animal you weren't a hundred percent sure on how to approach.

" the best bit. I'll have. I'll have the best bit. That's the bit that I want " had he ever ordered a steak before? Or was his upset clouding his thoughts? Either way you just wanted to drop your pad and pen and give the poor guy a hug. He looked like he needed it.

" centre cuts filet? " you asked waiting for him to confirm but he simply sniffled and you realised he really was crying now " how would you like it cooked? " you needed to get away from him before you risked it all and pulled him into your arms.

" very good very good yeah " he'd dropped his gaze to his lap again and you had to walk away before you really did hug him. He clearly needed a moment on his own, needed to gather his thoughts that were clearly so very scattered.

You headed back inside and gave his order to the chefs.

" so? What's happened with him? " Amy popped into the kitchen practically bouncing to get some gossip.

" he. He thought it was Wednesday " you said it as if you didn't quite believe it yourself, because honestly? You didn't. Amy frowned and raised her eyebrows.

" think he's not the full ticket? Bit. You know? " she twirled her finger in a circle next to her head, insinuating he was loopy.

" how should I know? I didn't ask his full life story " you actually felt a little bristled that she'd suggest it. The man out there seemed too sweet, too flustered. Not loopy. Just... confused? Maybe? Either way you didn't think he was crazy.

" how do you think it's a Wednesday. It's Friday. It's like, the best day of the week! Wednesday is like. So shit. Why Wednesday " she popped her head out into the restaurant as your other coworker called for her before sighing and heading back out.

It was odd. Of course it was. Of all the excuses and the reasons people had stood up dates. Getting the day wrong by 2 days had never popped up before. He seemed flustered, confused. 1000% convinced that it was in fact Wednesday. Maybe he'd had a bump on the head. Maybe he was just one of those uni students who crammed revision for hours on hours, simply not leaving his home for so long he really did get the days wrong. You guessed there was many explanations. But you weren't going to accept Amy's suggestion of loopy.

You decided to make true on your statement to leave early and headed for the cloakroom to grab your bag and jacket. Ready to go home and binge watch some shitty tv show until you fell asleep, let the poor man sat at table 4 fade into the mass of hundreds of others you'd seen stood up.

" orders up! " you heard the chef call as you headed back through the kitchen again " oh. For you " he handed you a to go box filled with food. You didn't even need to ask. They knew you too well. You smiled and took the box with a thanks, giving the chef a half hug as you balanced your belongings and your food.

Amy appeared back in the kitchen to take the mans steak out but you stopped her.

" I'll take it on my way out it's fine " you said and draped your jacket over the arm that held your bag and balancing your own food too. You didn't like the idea of Amy giving him the food. She wouldnt be as gentle as you had, didn't know how to handle upset people in the slightest " seriously. I've got it. It's okay " you said before she could even attempt to protest, then taking the man's plate in your other hand.

You headed back out to him, in some mild hope he might have cheered up a little bit. You didn't like seeing people upset. Especially people who seemed as sweet as the man sat at table 4.

" centre cut filet, well done " you said softly as you placed it at the table, but even with your gentle approach he startled slightly as you spoke.

" oh. Oh. Right. Thank you " he eyed your jacket and bag, then his eyes flitted to where your coworkers were beginning to clean up inside " should i get this to go? You're closing " he nodded towards where the final customers were leaving, the waiters inside already beginning the close down.

" no you're alright. I sometimes sit out here and eat after my shift, they clean it last. You've got time " you said with a warm smile. He seemed to be thinking of something, his mouth opening slightly like he was going to speak but was still trying to figure out the words. So you waited. Slightly awkwardly but still. He probably needed a talk after the night he'd had.

" do you.. do. Wanna sit with me? " he asked slightly sheepishly, his eyes flickering down to the to go box of your own food in your hand " i mean. You don't have to like if you wanna go home or something- gods sorry that's so weird innit? Sorry- " you couldn't help the smile spreading on your face as he rambled, sitting down opposite him and effectively stopping him in his tracks.

" thanks " you said and opened up the box containing a baked potato and varying other bits the chef had thrown in " would've been cold by the time I was home anyway. Not the same when you microwave stuff is it? " he was looking at you in a mild awe that you had actually sat down with him, but you tried your best to put him at ease.

" i- yeah. Yeah not the same " now you could get a proper look at him you realised he was actually pretty cute. Definitely your type. All fluffy curls and bronzed skin. Dark bags under his eyes but he somehow made them work. Big brown eyes that caught you in your examination of his face. But you simply held his gaze for a second before he looked away. Almost trying to tell him ' yes. I am looking at you. Your date isn't here but that's okay. There's plenty more fish in the sea that'll look at you and see how pretty you are'

Because. Well. He was pretty. Quite possibly the prettiest face you'd come across in London. And those eyes... it was shocking to think he'd still need to be dating. Surely he'd have been snapped up ages ago. You'd come to discover that all the guys that you find even remotely attractive always ended up being taken already.

Or just complete dickheads.

He was hunched in on himself a little. Almost like he was concerned he was taking up too much space, like he wanted to feel and look as small as he could. Like he wanted to fly under everyone's radar, to appear invisible. Unnoticed. A silent nobody.

Maybe that was why he was single. He was shy. Nervous. And couldn't remember his days of the week

You took a bite of your food and watched as he pushed his steak dejectedly with his fork, his nose crinkling slightly.

" not how you like it? You did say very good I just assumed well done... "

" no no. It's just. Well... m' actually vegan " he said with a slightly awkward scratch to his head and you couldn't help the laugh that left you.

" a vegan in a steak house. That's a new one " his shoulders relaxed a little as you laughed, almost as if he was just waiting for you to make fun of him. And relieved when you didn't. Frankly he seemed to relax a little everytime you spoke " Whyd you get a steak then? We have salads, potatoes. Steaks not exactly vegan is it " he shrugged and cut a small chunk of the meat, examining it on his fork for a moment.

" fancied a change? "

“ I don’t think I could ever be vegan. Chicken McNuggets are my go to hangover food “ you said with a grin that made him divert his eyes from the meat and to you. He was smiling too. And it was beautiful.

“ maybe this steak will convert me back “

“ you never know unless you try “ you said, still smiling as you took another bite of your food.

“ right. I should broaden my horizons, yeah? “ he seemed a little hesitant as he put it in his mouth, seemingly thinking extremely hard as he chewed before giving another shrug. He was trying hard not to scrunch his face in disgust as he broke what was probably a long running stint at living vegan.

" well? " you asked, already knowing the answer but humouring him.

" yeah not bad " his terrible lie had you laughing again, shaking your head slightly as you tucked in to your own food. He was unbelievably cute. You felt his eyes on you as you laughed. He seemed to like it. You got the idea he didn't often make people laugh.

" I'm sorry about your date " you said after a minute or so of silence as you both ate, Steven avoiding his steak and picking at the side salad and basket of chips instead " totally their loss. You seem nice " his cheeks flushed at that, not sure whether it was from embarrassment or the compliment. Maybe both. You got the idea he didn't receive many compliments either.

" my fault. Messed up the day. Wednesday. Brain like a sieve " he mumbled and tapped his forehead with the handle of his fork lightly " forget my head if it wasn't screwed on " now he did look embarrassed, the kicked puppy look gracing his face again as he looked down at his plate.

" me too. Should see my phone. Take a picture of my front door everyday to remind myself i actually locked it. Or my hair straighteners to remind myself I unplugged them. Always forget and then panic I’ve burnt my building down " he looked up again at your attempt to console him, those puppy eyes making you want to melt into a puddle in your seat.

" s'alright I guess. Never been very good at like dating and that " he mumbled with a shrug and pushed the steak with his fork, his nose scrunched up in mild disgust " don't even remember asking her out " you raised an eyebrow at that and took another bite of your baked potato.

He forgets the day. And then forgets even asking her out. A mild concern was starting to mount now. How was one man so confused.

" are you sure you were actually meant to be on a date? " it was a bit of joke but he seemed to take it seriously, his eyes widening and he scrambled to unlock his phone.

" yeah yeah look see. See that? Dylan " he shoved the phone towards you with a contact named ' Dylan ' on the screen " never even spoken to her before but I have her number? Bit weird innit? " he'd never spoken to her. Yet he had her number. He'd seemingly missed a date by two whole days. He was an odd one that was for sure. But he was cute. So maybe you could look past it " I messed this one up didn't I? Bloody useless I am "

" her loss " you said warmly and reached across to give his hand a light squeeze. His cheeks flushed slightly again and you wanted to just jump over the table and squeeze him. Show the clearly lonely, affection starved man that there were people who cared.

" got to talk to you though didn't I? Maybe all worked out quite well in the end " it was probably the most confident thing he'd said all night and it made your heart flutter " might be a bit awkward though with Dylan. Work with her so... "

" where do you work? " you asked, part generally interested and part trying to change the topic of Dylan. You were beginning to like his smile, you didn't want the kicked puppy face back again.

" i work at the National Gallery, y'know in Trafalgar Square? " he has perked up in a instant at the mention of work, clearly very much enjoying his job.

" oh cool, you're a tour guide? " he deflated again just as quickly and you wracked your brains for what you possibly could have said wrong.

" er no. Gift shop. I'm a gift shop-ist " he perked up slightly again " I'll be a tour guide one day though. Know more than all the current ones put together " a smile spread across your face for the millionth time that evening as he spoke " applications open up again in a couple months. Gonna apply again I think. I get to talk to people in the shop, give em little titbits of knowledge you know when they buy something? But I'd love to actually be a guide you know? "

He seemed to be bursting to use the knowledge that was so clearly going to waste in a gift shop, even there in his chair he looked like he wanted to explode and tell you something interesting.

" maybe you could give me a tour " you suggested " if you're not too tired after your gift shop-ist duties of course. Only ever been to the gallery once, school trip when I was 12 " he was looking at you like you'd just told him he'd won the lottery. Dylan was a fool for not meeting up with him, though you guessed it was good in a way. If she had met him then maybe you never would have.

" y- yeah! Yeah I'd love that " he was practically bouncing in his seat, all that knowledge ready to explode right at the table. You wouldn't even need a tour at this rate. You'd know the name of every single Greek, Egyptian and Roman to ever live before you even made it home.

" great. Let me... give you my number " you said and rummaged around in your handbag for your phone, plucking it out and unlocking it before showing him your contact information. He scrambled for his own phone and copied the number in " I don't work on Sundays or Tuesdays. So if you're up for a one to one tour those are the best days for me, If they're any good for you as well "

Your phone pinged as a text came through so that you had his number too

Unknown

Helllooo. It’s Steven :) ( with a v )

Your cheeks were starting to ache from how much he had made you smile. In fact it simply made you smile more just seeing that Steven was no longer sporting that puppy face.

Dylan long forgotten. Thankfully.

" Sundays and Tuesdays. Got it. Right. Wicked " he was beaming at you, the nerves he'd had all night still very much there. But maybe a little less so now " I think Sundays best? Donna doesn't work Sundays "

" Donna? " you questioned, finishing the last of your food and leaving it neatly for Amy when she came to clean up outside.

" my boss... think about locking her on one the sarcophaguses at least three times a day " he said with a small chuckle, picking up your empty box and cutlery and stacking them onto his own plate. It was a practical wet dream for a waitress to see, a customer that kept themselves near and made the waitress' job easier " always calls me stevie , always yelling at me cause im a bit late sometimes. Bloody annoying "

" don't like stevie? " Stevie actually sounded quite cute if you were honest.

" not when she says it " the slight avoidance of your eyes and the flush in his cheeks, almost told you he may have hated it from Donna. But he'd quite liked it from you.

" we'll do a Sunday then. No Donna " he smiled and nodded, eyes looking over you and cheeks flushing again.

Had you just planned a date? Was that even allowed? For you to go on dates with customers?

That was an issue for future you thought. Right now you were quite content to have someone who was a customer twice your age- or even more sometimes- eyeing you up. And to have someone who was actually decent on the eye. And nice. A shy little gift shop-ist who got his days mixed up and hated his boss.

" y/n? We really need to clear up out here now " you turned you head as Amy stood by the door. You two had been out there longer than you'd expected and it wasn't fair to keep the others any later.

" yeah sorry. We're off now give us like. 2 minutes? " she nodded and headed back inside to grab her cleaning stuff, as you put your phone away and stood up. Steven followed suit and looked down slightly dejectedly at the flowers that were still on the table.

" you can have these " he said softly and passed them over " to say thank you. For being so nice I mean " it was your turn to blush now, a small heat creeping over your cheeks as you accepted the slightly squashed flowers.

" thank you Steven "

" you live near here? Or you getting the tube or? " he asked, fiddling slightly with his hands.

" tube " you nodded.

" can I. Can I walk you there? Bit late innit? Dodgy people around " your heart fluttered at the never ending kindness pouring out of this man.

" I'd like that "

You walked side by side in a comfortable silence as tiredness seemed to creep up on the both of you. You couldn't help but steal a few glances at him as you walked. He seemed even more handsome out of the artificial restaurant lights. The moonlight falling on him perfectly.

Dylan's loss.

You did for a brief moment think about all the questions you'd be asked at work tomorrow. You'd practically had a date with him and you'd only gone to deliver him his food. You knew Amy and the others would have been having a field day watching you, gossiping and spying on you. But that didn't matter right now. Because you'd met quite possibly the loveliest man in London.

“ do you live close? “ you asked as you the tube station came into sight.

“ yeah not far. Like 10 minutes walk. Gonna take you long to get home? “ he asked, hands in his pockets as he glanced at you.

“ no. Streatham “ he nodded and you looked over at him again. You did have the slightest of concern with yourself at how easily you’d let a stranger walk you from work. He could’ve been a serial killer for all knew. But in your defence. He’d been lovely all evening. He was evening walking on the side of the path closest to the road.

Once you reached the tube station you came to a halt and for the first time that evening it was ever so slightly awkward. Neither of you seemingly knowing what to say to the other.

" thank you " you broke the silence " for walking me here. And the flowers. And well, for a lovely dinner. Beats my original plans of eating alone on my sofa " you smiled and he gave a small shrug.

" thank you for saving my evening " he was fiddling with his hands nervously and you had the urge to reach out and hold them.

" text me okay? Still want my tour "

" of course! Of course. Maybe we could do this...Sunday? " you nodded and there was a small silence again. He seemed slightly tentative in asking. Perhaps questioning if you had been genuine. Or worried that you'd maybe meant next week and Not two days away.

But if you were truly honest you'd see him again tomorrow. You'd only spent a short while in his presence and yet you already liked his company.

" that'd be perfect. I'm not doing anything " he seemed relieved at your answer, goofy grin on his face and his shoulders relaxing. Eyes practically glistening with happiness " well. I'll see you Sunday then? "

" yeah absolutely. I'll text you yeah? " you hesitated for a slight moment then leant forward and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. You knew his cheeks would be on fire before you even looked at him again and not to cause him any embarrassment, you turned and headed into the station. Already looking forward Sunday.

[iidsch]

[Major Omori spoilers]

A common criticism of Omori is that the plan Basil came up with is too "edgy" or just unbelievable, but I feel like the people who think that are looking at this scene with the wrong glasses.

Yes, when you look at it from a third-person perspective, after learning how Mari's suicide deeply affected everyone and, I assume, as an adult (I highly doubt kids are playing this game), the plan seems very irrational and stupid. And indeed it is. Because that's the kind of plan a kid would come up with if put in such an extreme situation.

Let me use an example that will be understandable for most people, I hope. Imagine you're cooking something in the kitchen, something that requires really hot oil, like fried potatoes. Suddenly, a fire breaks out. If this is the first time this happens, and you're prone to getting anxiety, your first thought is going to be pouring water on the fire. Anyone familiar with kitchen hazards knows that pouring water on a grease fire will make the fire spread and become worse. But you need two important things to be able to act accordingly in this situation: one is the knowledge of what your actions will lead to (in this case the fire becoming worse if you pour water onto it), and two, the ability to calm down so you can make the best decision.

Sunny and Basil had none of those when Mari died. They panicked and, unable to look at the situation with a clear mind, they made everything worse.

And this is not your average 'oh I got a little nervous and made a mistake' scenario. This is a scenario where you, unwillingly and completely on accident, killed someone. Someone that you, and many people around you, deeply loved. As the player, you're observing the situation from a place where you can judge their actions objectively, without any emotions that would tamper with your decisions.

But when you're in the middle of that kind of situation you don't have time to think about it. You're overwhelmed with very strong and negative feelings. Sunny completely shuts himself down, and possibly forces his mind to forget what just happened, the same way he forgets about the closet or Basil's room after he kills himself. Basil, on the other hand, denies that Sunny had pushed his sister down the stairs, and blames "something behind him'", leading him to believe that if someone discovers Mari's dead body, they'll "unjustly" put the blame on Sunny, so he opts for what he thinks is the best solution - lie about her death.

Maybe Basil thought of some other way they could lie to get away with her death, or maybe suicide was the only possibility on his mind at that time. Whatever is the case, we know the decision they took. Or rather the decision Basil took, since it's entirely plausible that Sunny had completely closed himself off and was just following Basil's instructions.

When you see it from the comfort of your chair, all their actions seem really bad, if not terrible, given how Mari's supposed suicide makes the group's friendship crumble. But that is a very unfair treatment of the situation and of their feelings. You’re asking two kids, who are already very shy and anxious, to deal with one kind of situation that I don’t even think an adult could handle well. If what they did seems unrealistic to you, you haven’t fully grasped how traumatic and stressful it must have been for them, and for any other person.

When I first learned the truth, I couldn’t stop asking myself: "what would have I done if this had happened to me?" But that's a question I am not allowed to answer, as I've never had something so tragic happen to me. And that's where the true horror of the game lies, in the fact that this could happen to anyone. Maybe not to such an extreme degree, but making one mistake, hurting someone you love in consequence, and feeling guilty about it is a very real thing to go through, one that I'm sure many have already experienced.

Sunny and Basil were just kids, they made the wrong decision and were forced to live with the unimaginable pain and guilt of their actions. To call their behavior irrational is to deny how humanly they acted in that situation. And after all, to err is human, and what they did was just a terrible mistake.

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts: Max Phillips

Hello!  This is sort of a sequel to the Pero story, in that we saw Max and now we know what he was doing there and what choice he needed to make.

Warnings:  Cursing. Angst. I had the trick of having to put both blank canvas characters into one story, lol.  But I think I finessed it.  The “you” character is a blank slate, mostly gender neutral (mentions of wanting to have children could sway your perception one way or the other.). Not betad.  

This is my late #writerwednesday entry, thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​

Prologue:

Max Phillips slammed the hospital doors open, eager to get outside.  The sound beeping machines seemed to echo in his ears, making them hurt.  The smell of the place stuck to the back of his throat.

He tilted his head back in the afternoon sun, and breathed in, breathed out.  Tried to make himself calm down.  The Autumn are cleared his head as he jogged across the road.  

“Bad day?���  A voice asked.

Between two benches, almost hidden in the orange leaves, was a woman, instead of the ‘Nam veteran he usually passed a few moments talking to.  Her wiry steel colored hair was in a messy bun, covered by a turban.  She wore layers and layers even though it was a warm fall day.  “Where’s Raffi?”  Max asked.

“His daughter found him.  He decided to try living with her again.”

Max nodded.  “I hope it works out.  She wasn’t…apparently he isn’t easy to live with.  Bad dreams.”

“It’ll be better now.”  She said with such serene certainty that Max believed her.  He gave a little wave and walked away.  

He was back, twenty minutes later.  He put a chocolate shake in front of her, and a boxed fried chicken meal.  If he had known his folklore…which, sadly, he would become intimately familiar with, he would have understood her amusement.  Milk, bread…these were the Old offerings.  

Instead he shrugged, uncomfortable.  “What?  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  And I needed to eat, too.”  He sat next to her.

“How old are you?” She asked, though she knew.

He shrugged.  “Seventeen.”  He buttered a biscuit and took a huge bite.  He ate like he was starving.  “Why?”

“You seem to be awfully young to be hanging out with homeless people.  Where are your parents?”  

He shrugged again.  “My mom’s gone.  My father…”. He pointed towards the hospital doors with his chin.  “He’s dying.”  He hunched over the greasy box of chicken, potato strips and biscuits, eating like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

She sighed.

He looked at her, and she shook her head, and ate the food he brought her.  You are going to go off the rails Max Phillips.  You are going to go off the rails so badly and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The Present:

He entered the library through the basement, crept up the stairway.  The first floor was nearly empty…the university library kept late hours so that students could cram late into the night, but it was Thirsty Thursday and most of the students were elsewhere.  

He waited until you were focused on the book cart again, back towards the main floor, and got himself around the corner.  Then he pulled out his cell and dialed the front desk.

You now turned to go to the phone, at least he hoped so, as he disconnected the call and opened the side door to the area behind the circulation desk…

You were there, leaning against the cart, arms folded.  “Nice try, but I know your tricks, Mister Phillips.”

He grinned and advanced on her, step by step.

“No no…”. You point a finger at him.  “Stay back, this is a work place…”. You shoot a look towards the front desk as he backs you into your office.   “You are going to lose me my job.”  You hiss at him, and he bends a little, and kisses you breathless.

“Quit.  I’ll take care of you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He’s cool to the touch.  It’s not disconcerting, not like it used to be.  “I wish I could.”

“Stop wishing...”

“If you say ‘and make your dreams a reality’, I’ll bite you.”  

Max looks offended.  “It’s a great slogan!  Do you know how many units of Losapill those golden words have sold?”

“I don’t understand how I can love someone so much and want to punch them so badly.”

He grins down at you.  “I can name several reasons why you love me.”

You smirk up at him.  “I’m sure you can…let me go, honey.  I’ve got to tell everyone we’re closing in half an hour.”  He listened to your voice on the loudspeaker, buttery and gentle and reassuring, and smiled a little. He could listen to that voice forever.  He could sell holy water to a priest, but so far all his skills had failed to net him the one thing he wanted.

He walks with you, as you check the restrooms (He even does the men’s for you on each floor, turning off the lights and blocking the doors open) and stands behind you, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy as you gently tell students to take their books to the front desk if they needed to check them out, that the library was closing shortly.

He waits, patiently, while you close up and lock the doors and usher the last people out.  

“I really wish you’d let me turn you,” he says when you are both in your car and on the way home.  Max often took the rooftops from his office to the university.  He was fast, and strong, and being fairly indestructible made him long for the thrill of possibly getting hurt, so he parkoured his way through the city once it got dark.  It was disgusting, how he looked so good after running and leaping five miles.

He shifts in his seat as you let the silence grow.  “Are you ignoring me?”

“Yes.”  You stop at a red light.  

“Why?  You said you’d think about it.  You’ve been thinking about it for a month.  Any idea where you are on it?  Like, from the scale of one to ten…”

You’ve been wanting to avoid this.  You’ve really been wanting to avoid this.  “Zero.”

She waits.  She waits for the torrent of salesmanship.  The spiel.  Why becoming a vampire and living forever is what she wants, she just doesn’t know it’s yet.  

For once, words fail him.  No quick comeback, no charming lines. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me.”  He says it so softly that you almost aren’t sure you heard it.  

You pull into the apartment parking lot, picks a spot quickly you can park and take his hands in yours.  “Max.  I do.  I really do.  But just…I don’t want to be a vampire.  I don’t want to give up the things I would have to give up?”

“Like what?  Death?  Getting old?  Getting sick?  Being weak?”  He pulls his hands away.  “I am offering you unlimited time.  Think of the things we can do together!  And you don’t have to kill…I haven't killed anyone in ages!”

“Sunlight.”  You say.  “Food.”  He makes a disgusted sound and looks out the window.  “A family.”  You take a deep breath.  “Children.”

He finally looks at you again.  “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”  He raises his hand, and time goes wonky for a moment, and when things snap back into place, he’s gone.

You stay in your car a long time, hoping he’ll come back. Every step up to your apartment, you look around, hoping.  

It’s dawn, before you give up, dried out from crying, your mouth feels full of ashes and your heart full of regret.

The next day:

Max was not in a good mood the next day.  Usually he has a nice word for, if no one else, his PA, a miracle worker of a woman he’d always been fond of, but he just glared at her and slams his door shut.

Emails.  Reports.  He plowed into work.  

The door opened, and he ignored it, steadfast in the hope that whoever it was would go the fuck away.   I could always eat them.  I don’t have to be good anymore.

A cup thumped down on his desk.  He looked up.  He didn’t recognize the woman — her steel grey hair was neat, her suit elegant.  Her heart beat strangely, and he could tell she was not — quite—human.  Great.  Someone new from corporate?

“I thought you said that everyone loves chocolate?”  She said, pointing at the milkshake.  “You’ve come far, since we last spoke outside the hospital…”

He shook his head.  “I remember you, but…”. How did she come to be here? Why? His brain was still trying to match up the homeless lady with the epitome of corporate flash in front of him.  

“Now, I didn’t say you moved in a good direction.  How did the sweet boy who spent his last twenty on dinner for himself and a homeless woman end up being a bloodsucking asshole selling fake products?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s schedule an appointment, maybe for the next century?”

“Nope.”  She reached across the desk.  “You gonna drink this?”

He shook his head and she took the milkshake, leaned back in her chair, moving the straw back and forth in the lid, making an annoying shriek sound that hurt his ears.  

“Do you think I wanted this?”  He snapped at her.  Vampires didn’t really need much in the way of sleep, but he was tired.  Tired and hurt.  “And who gives you the right to fucking judge me?”

“I’m one of the gentry,” she said.  “That doesn’t give me the right, but it gives me the power.”

“You’re fae.  That explains it.  You don’t seem human.”  

“I thought they taught you the rules.  You never call us out so clearly.  Always call us by some euphemism and hope we don’t take a notion to turn our attention towards you.”

He threw up his hands.  “Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because if I wanted to, Max Phillips, I could turn you back into the weak, dying, foolish mortal you once were.”

This stopped him.  “You could?”  He said carefully.  

“I could.”

“What’s the catch?”

She smiled.  “Good boy.  Maybe they did teach you something, after all.”  She put the milkshake on the desk.  ”You were…what?  Twenty, twenty one when you got turned?  I could, if I wanted to, make it as if you never got turned.  I could choose for you to age to the age you should be, had you not cheated death…or I could make you start from where you are right now.  If I was feeling so inclined.”

“Why would I want that?”  He scoffed.  “Do you think I want to get old and sick?  Do you think I want to spend the last year of my life in a hospital bed, unable to even piss for myself?  You think this is a fucking gift?  Enticing?  No.”

“So you don’t want a life with the librarian? Probably for the best. She is made out of sunlight and deserves so much better.”

He stopped.  He could feel the slipping…where the darker side of him started clambering up, eager to take control and rend and kill.  

“Hush.”  She said, and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, the fangs stopped aching.  “I shouldn’t needle.  It’s just so frustrating.  You were a sweet boy and you just allowed the bad in your life to make you…well, frankly, a bit of a jackass.”  She shoot him an apologetic look.  “OK, that was a cruddy apology.  But.  Back to the subject at hand.  Once, you were kind to me.  And if you do me a favor — one more favor — I will give you a choice.  A chance to choose a life for yourself instead of being a victim of bad choices and worse luck.  No strings.  No further price.”

He side eyed her a long moment.  He was intrigued, despite himself.  “What’s the favor?”

She took a small painting out of her pocket and slid it over to him.  “Another debt to pay…that woman has a soul mate out there.  I know where he is.  If you get her to my house tomorrow night, I can unite them, give them a chance at well deserved happiness.”

“Yeuch.”  He said, then picked up the painting.  “Wait.  That’s my PA.”

“Is it?  How delightful.  Isn’t just splendid how fate intervenes.”  She put a card on the desk.  “This is the address.  Hope to see you.”  She held up her finger.  “There is one thing.  She can’t know.  You have to get her there without her knowing why.  Alright?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”  He muttered.

“Good.  I am glad you understand.  Ciao!”

He picked up the card.  And cursed a bit.

NIght, in the time middle of nowhere:

“So, Mister Phillips…are you taking me out into the middle of the woods to murder me?”  His PA asked, laughing.  She didn’t know he was a vampire.  Telling people what he was hadn’t worked out very well at his last job, so he’d been much more circumspect this time.

“I promise, you are safe.  From me.  I don’t know what Corporate will do, though,” he said, turning down another road.  

“So, did they tell you what the meeting is about?”

“It’s meant to be a retreat.  All the heads of the various branches and their PA’s.  They want to re-envision the future of the company”. He took one hand off the wheel to put air quotes in the right place.  “Apparently they messed up your email address so we didn’t get the invite in time.  Someone caught it and called me directly.”

“I hope the place they picked is nice…”. She was looking out the window, trying to make out the road ahead.  “Carol in accounting is super jealous.  I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

“Well, I am irresistible.”

“Mostly.”  She grinned at him.  A square of light grabbed her attention.  “I think we’re here.”

He pulled up to the house.  It looked sketchy at best, and the looks his PA were casting made him wonder if her trust was stretching a little too thin.

He got out and walked up to the porch.  The Fae came out this time wearing a chic, flowery dress.  She ignored Max and called to his PA.  “Don’t be afraid.  You are here so I can talk to you about your dreams…and by that, I mean the Spaniard, with the scar over his eye.”

The PA froze.  “You…you know about him?”  

“Go inside, dear, and I will tell you all about him.  But I need to talk to Max, here, first”

His PA stopped next to him, put her hand on his arm.  “Will you be OK?”

“Absolutely.  You know me.”

She went into the house.  

“Come here, Max.”  The Fae held out her hand, gesturing him to come up to the porch.  He did.  A card table was set up, with one chair.  Two cards lay face down.  “Here is your choice.  Are you ready?”

He stood there, looking at the table, and nodded.  Fear coursed through him, as strong as the day cold hands grabbed him from behind, teeth sinking into his throat…

She reached down and flipped over a card.  The Queen of Spades.  “Darkness ever lasting.  A vampire queen even now is looking for her equal.  She will choose you, and the two of you will know power beyond your wildest dreams…until enough people get angry about it and decide to deal with you both.  You will not love her, but who needs love when you have sex and death and all the power you ever hoped for?”

She reaches again, flips over another card.  The Queen of Hearts.  “And this.  This is life.  Your soul will wake up, and you will be twenty one and full of possibilities again.  Your heart will beat every beat that was stolen from you.  The slate will not be wiped entirely clean, but you will have a chance — a chance with your lovely librarian.  Children.  Be kind when you were once cruel, and live a decent, good life.”  

His lips were numb.  “How…how long?”

“Long enough.  You will not feel cheated.  It will be a plain sort of life, but it will be yours, and you will have the woman you love…some would say that is worth dying for.”

“What do you know about death?  Your kind just fade when they are tired of living.  You will never know the absolute fucking horror of your body betraying you.  The fucking humiliation that waits.  The pain.”

“No.”  She said softly.  “I do not.”  She kissed his temple.  “I am sorry.  If I had met you sooner, perhaps…but, in any case, I consider all debts paid.  When you are ready, pick up the card representing your choice, and rip it in half.  Choose well, Maxwell Phillips.  May we never meet again.”

He didn’t notice her leave.  He sat down, weak, at the table.

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  

He’d seen both his parents die terribly.  After he was turned, he’d mourned, then he realized the gift he’d been given.  No hospitals.  No lingering disease.  No pain.

His hand hovered next to the Queen of Spades.  No love, but power and sex.  He’d tried to recover, tried to be good, for you.  And he’d started feeling the guilt.  And with guilt, came all the excuses.  That he was living according to the nature that had been forced upon him.  That he was giving people a gift…they died, or they become something that could never die.

You don’t punish the wolf for being a wolf.

But that was why it had been easy to walk away.  Because you deserved better.  Not a vampire.  Not a wolf.  A man…

He did not hear the car, but he heard the thump of the other man’s steps as he mounted the porch.  

“She’s in there…”  he said, barely paying attention.  

When the other man left, he repeated what he said to him, in his head.  Choosing between life and death.

He picked up the Queen of Hearts.  His hands were shaking.  He ripped the card in half.  Darkness roared around him, pulled him under.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of his apartment.  

No.  His fucking.  College.  Dorm room.

“Dude, you started early.”  Evan’s stupid face appeared as he bent over him.  

Max wondered if he could punch him in the face.  It would feel really, really good to punch the other man in the face,

“OK, well, I’m going to an away game…see you sometime tomorrow.”

He put the palms of his hands in his eyes.  “Yeah…have fun.”

Evan stepped over him.  “See ya…wouldn’t want to be ya!”  The door slammed shut and Max raised both hands in a one finger salute towards it.

He made himself get up and go to the bathroom.  He looked younger but not better, per se.  What is wrong with me?  What’s this feeling?

It wasn’t just that he could feel his body working.  Feel breath (was breathing always so fucking noisy?) and heat beats and aches in his neck and back from laying weird on the floor.

He’d lived for years.  But right now, he was still the same angry, miserable hit mess of a man he’d been at this point of his life.  

A phone was ringing, he went and grabbed it.

“Hey Maxie.  Is Evan gone?”  Evan’s girlfriend.  Great.

Oh.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look…”

“Awesome.  I bought the cutest bra and panties…”

And this is where, he thought, this is where he took the step to becoming the man you deserved him to be.  “That’s great.  But you know…I only want to fuck you because your boyfriend is an annoying twit.”

Shocked silence.  OK still an asshole.  Check.  So much for being a sweet boy when I was younger.  “Look. I meant what I said.  You are beautiful. You are probably far, far too good for Evan. Or maybe not, if you are willing to screw around with an asshole like me. In any case, you deserve better. But you have to decide what better is.”

This treated him to a string of profanity before the woman hung up.

Then, he walked to the infirmary, and asked for aspirin. And if there were any free spots for the therapist.

Sunday, the conversation between roommates went like this:

“So you were going to screw my girlfriend?”

A shrug — Max concentrated on the video game.  “Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He paused the game.  “Because you deserve better.”

He felt Evan throw himself on the couch next to him.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just so fucking happy and peppy and optimistic and everything is going to be awesome but I think the world is shit and misery and maybe if you dialed it back a little I we could have conversations that didn’t end with me wanting to punch your face.”

“Dude.”  It sounded defeated and apologetic at the same time.

Max held a controller out to him. “Sorry. I’ll try to be less of an asshole.”

He took it.  “I’ll try to be less…happy?”

Max sighed.  “Just don’t get me kicked out, ok? I can’t afford anywhere else and I really don’t want to end up in Transylvania.”

Two years later, he decided he could go and find you.

Most people went to nice places on their spring break.

Max got on a bus and headed to a University in the next state.  They’d had their Spring break a week sooner.

There you were. Sitting cross legged on a bench with a man with a streak of blonde in his hair, and a suit coat with elbow patches.  Elbow patches.  Pretentious asshole.

You were tucking hair behind your ear. You liked him. Max wondered if he should leave, come back…in a year?  Three?  When did he have a right to become part of your life?  Did he even?

You look at him and smile and it is sunshine and he can’t leave.

The man on the bench says something about class.  “See you at work,” she tells him, and he lopes off in an easy walk to one of the brick covered class buildings.

Max approaches carefully.  “Hey.  Um.  I’m thinking about transferring here, wondered what it’s like?”

She shifted her bag over, even though there was plenty of room to sit, and he took it as an invite.  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

He gave her his best smile. “Everything. I want to know everything.”

[tsumuniri]

━━━ Atsumu Miya is a free-loader. Living inside his twin brother's home as if it was his, he would bring home girls and annoy Osamu most of the time. Y/N L/N is quite the opposite apparently because she's a virgin loser. Being the popular anonymous BL mangaka known as Yamazaki, she stays in the homey abode of her parents and watches boys from afar for references (not for admiration sadly).

Now what will happen if fate decided to tie these two idiots together and made them live across each other in one apartment?

。m.list ❯❯ ┃next

ZERO ━━ WHO’S KICKING WHO NOW?

DO YOU GET NERVOUS to the point you wouldn't be surprised that you already took a shit, not pee, but discharge the residue on your pants? That's how a certain H/C-haired female felt as she sat across the table with her editor on the other side. It was only a figurative speech, though; if she took it literally, Y/N would gladly dig her own grave and plan her funeral up to what kind of horrid gown she'd be wearing in her casket.

It wasn't your fault to be this anxious. You've been doing this type of gig for almost five years, yet you couldn't help but tremble slightly on your seat as you noiselessly wait for the male editor to enlighten you with comments in regards to this unreleased chapter. You hate having to go through this type of initiation, but hey, you love your job nevertheless.

"Great work today, L/N-san. You accurately followed my advice when it comes to the panels. As expected from your skills and experiences in the field." Akihito remarked, pushing up his glasses with his thumb and closing the original copy of the printed manuscript.

You now had the ability to breathe as you draw out a deep sigh of relief. "Well, thank the gods for that! When you criticized the paneling of this chap two days ago, I panicked a bit and had to rearrange them all." You rambled on and began to ravish the food on your tray to satisfy your empty stomach. It was a bit difficult to comprehend your words due to the continuous eating of the delicious french fries. However, your editor somewhat understood you in the end.

Akihito watched you chowed down on the poor potato snack and shook his head from the ridiculous spectacle of your hungry state. "You're the infamous Yamazaki, but you asked me to meet up with you in a place like this?" He panned out.

"What do you mean? And didn't I tell you not to say my pen name out loud? What if people might hear you!"

"Y/N, we're in McDonald's." Your editor frowned, gesturing around the place full of children with a nudge of his thumb. With the sudden dilemma of your hidden identity, he cocked a brow and turned his head to glance at the screaming little monsters chasing each other on the matted floor. It was clear to him that these youngsters didn't pay any mind to their talk.

"We took the table by the playground. I don't think kids of their age would know someone who makes picture books of men sucking-".

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! STOP!" You cut him off right before he could finish his ambiguous statement. You took a bite on the fry you were holding and dipped it in the blob of ketchup on the tissue paper. "I chose this fast-food resto because the atmosphere in this place is loud. I don't want someone to hear you nor see the material you're reading." You licked the salt off your fingers once you finished eating your fries.

His slanted eyes squinted in suspicion as his onyx irises surveyed your get-up from head to toe. Your patterned sock-covered feet nestled on black Adidas slippers as you had plaid trousers that seemed to look like matching pajama pants of a clothing set. The white shirt with the oppai logo you wore made up for your lacking asset. However, the best feature of this apparel you came up with was the unusual pair of large rimmed shades covering your eyes. "It seemed like you do know how to act natural, Y/N..." Akihito trailed, deciding not to ridicule the outfit you chose to wore for their meeting since he knew you were in a hurry to meet the deadline.

Your eyes glanced at the watch wrapped around your wrist and realized the current time. "I better get going. My mom would kill me if I didn't do the groceries. Thank you for today, Akihito!" You pushed yourself off the table, sitting up from the cushioned seat then bowing towards the male.

The brunette also stood up for courtesy's sake, softly smiling at you in gratification. "Thank you for your hard work as well, L/N-san. I'll make sure to send out a copy of the weekly magazine as soon it releases to the public. Your international fans will definitely enjoy this chapter once the global publishing company releases the translated magazine." He assured.

"Well, I'm happy to hear that everyone gets to enjoy my works! I'll see you soon, Akihito." You gave him a lazy grin as you turned your back and left for your pending chore.

"That man sure bought a lot of cleaning products." You thought out loud as you recalled the fascinating scene of a fellow shopper with a basket full of cleaning merchandise. You couldn't pinpoint his looks since the guy was wearing a face mask. But from his athletic build and large hooded eyes that made the other shoppers distance themselves away, you had a feeling he's good-looking. It wouldn't be surprising if he already has a girlfriend.

Or a boyfriend if he likes bananas over tacos.

Your little bubble of thoughts soon popped as you stood outside the gate of your household, staring at the moving boxes stacked on the grassy floor of your mother's garden. 'Now, what are they up to?' You mused, having a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach from the cardboard packages.

You hoisted up the two paper bags full of groceries against your chest and pulled the gate open. "Mom! Dad! I'm Home!" You greeted out, walking past the boxes and almost tripping on one of them. Your left arm had lifted the groceries with difficulty as you used your other hand to twist the doorknob of the front door.

The spruce door was pushed open by your right arm. As you took a step inside, your ears caught a pitched bark from the end of the hallway. A smile fixed on your lips once the familiar energetic sound registered in your mind.

"Kazu!" A short-coated corgi ran out from one of the doorways as it continued to bark and jump from the excitement of its owner arriving back at home. Its fluffy butt waddled with every step it took with its soft paws— bouncing a couple of times once you called out its name.

You smiled from ear to ear, "You miss me, boy?" You cooed, slipping out of your slippers and setting the bags of groceries on the hall table by the door. The dog barked softly and looked up at you with his beady eyes, wagging his tail and letting out another bark in reply. You would've played with this cute bunch that the gods have blessed you with, but the questions about the boxes haven't stopped galling you for answers.

"Where's mom and dad, Kazu?"

Kazu tilted his head and barked as if the corgi understood what you were trying to tell him. The dog turned around and darted over to the staircase leading upstairs. 'Maybe that's why they didn't hear me.' You thought to yourself and followed your dog over to the flight of stairs. The fluffy puppy used his time in climbing up the steps, but you decided to scoop the dog up in your arms and carry him midway due to how hard of a time the corgi's having.

You gently placed Kazu back on the floor after you both reached upstairs. Your brows furrowed together as you caught the sight of the two pieces of luggage outside your bedroom door. If your gut was telling you before that something grave might happen, it was screaming at you now that something will. "Mom?" You called out for your mother, needing an explanation for what the hell her parents are doing to her room.

Finally, the said person peeked her head out from the doorway of your room. "Y/N, dear! Welcome back!" She smiled and waved her hand to beckon you over to her side.

"Since you're finally here, your father and I have some great news for you!"

You eyed your mother, suspicious by the way she's acting, but you still heeded her command and took hesitant steps in the direction of your bedroom. "What's happening, mom? Why are you guys in my r-" You weren't able to finish your sentence as you find yourself in an almost empty bedroom with your father sealing a box with packaging tape.

The middle-aged man looked up from what he was doing and beamed once he saw his daughter walked inside the room, "My lovely girl! Great timing! Help your old pal in bringing your stuff outside the house." He hummed.

You didn't know what to say— you already had an idea of what the old couple was about to do, but you don't want to believe it. Your wide eyes shifted between your mother and father, "Don't... Don't tell me that..." You stammered as you were in disbelief from the current event playing right in front of you.

"We're kicking you out, Y/N!"

## and this is the first fic that i posted here on tumblr! though, i already published it in wp as well LMAO. i hope you enjoyed reading the prologue :'>

[brockadoodles]

Gumbo, Football Sundays, and Christmas - q. hughes

AN: this was totally named something else before, but honestly I like this name better. So here’s holiday Quinn floof to celebrate the return of my main squeeze, the quinn to my brock, the oh so wonderful, @pettypetey​ If any of you are mean to her, its on sight, ily kyn <3

Word Count: 3759

Warnings: None :)

You carefully walked over to the couch where Quinn was sitting on his phone with two hot bowls in your hand. You cleared your throat to grab his attention, handing him the steaming bowl of your favorite homemade potato soup, something that his trainer would absolutely kill him for eating, yet he did anyway because you made it and he openly admitted that it was one of his favorite things. Quinn couldn’t cook to save his life, something that you had attempted to remedy when you became friends and found out that he got most of his meals from the rink or the Tanev family. But after one night where he spilled an entire pot of gumbo on your kitchen floor, you settled for doing the cooking or letting him pay for takeout whenever he came over, sparing your poor floor from another huge mess and your own sanity over wasting that much time on food only to not be able to eat it. 

You sat down on the couch next to him, your thigh pressed up against him due to the nature of how small your old Ikea couch was. You set your bowl down on the coffee table and picked up the remote, scrolling through the various options on TV until you spotted a marathon of cheesy Christmas movies listed on the Hallmark channel. 

“I’m absolutely not watching a Christmas movie with you, it’s not even thanksgiving yet,” Quinn frowned as you moved through the various options on the tv, each movie title becoming a worse holiday-related pun as you scrolled further into the depths of the Hallmark channel. 

You glared at him and for a moment you contemplated why you were even such good friends with someone who clearly had no sense of what Christmas joy really meant. Obviously, you knew that he didn’t celebrate Christmas, but you also knew that he knew how much comfort these movies brought you. You used to spend hours watching them in November and December with your dad as a child, and when you moved to Vancouver, that quickly became one of the things you could do that reminded you of home.   

“Quinn I will absolutely kick you out of my apartment,” you warned, queuing up one of the movies whose premise was likely about some small-town person who needed to save their business and the way that happens was through a Christmas miracle. It didn’t matter how similar or terribly low quality these movies were, you loved them and happily watched them consistently as early as September each year. Quinn should have considered himself lucky that you waited until November before putting one on with him there. 

“You would never,” he smirked at you, wrapping an arm swiftly around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Quinn was always affectionate with you, something that you had found yourself readily falling into. You would never admit it to him but Quinn was your favorite person, and as the months had progressed his affections have sparked daydreams in your head of what it would be like if he took it one step farther with you. 

The two of you sat in silence next to each other as the opening credits of the movie began to play as you enjoyed the warm soup. It was what you considered the perfect November evening, your favorite movies, your favorite meal, and your favorite person all in one sitting as the rain fell outside of your apartment. 

You pulled the dark green throw blanket over both of your bodies as the movie continued to play, Quinn rolling his eyes and audibly groaning at the cheesy dialogue that was happening on screen. 

“Shhhh, I’m trying to distract myself from you,” you whacked him in the chest, feeling his body vibrate softly as he laughed at you. He grabbed your hand, focusing on playing with your fingers lightly, sometimes threading his own through them. His actions were causing a flutter in your stomach and a blush to rise on your cheeks each time he held your hand in his, and the movie was offering no distraction from him. 

Quinn was a constant for you, a presence that was always there whether that meant in your mind and heart as you thought of him, or physically there on your couch watching Christmas movies with you just because you asked. He had been your friend since he started playing in Vancouver, the two of you frequently running into each other at a hole in the wall Chinese place near your apartment. Somehow the chance run-ins had become Sunday nights in his apartment where he always had your favorite fried rice and football queued up for you provided he didn’t have a game of his own. 

Quinn fussed around with your fingers and hand for the entirety of the movie, if someone were to ask him to summarize anything that had occurred over the last two hours that you were nestled into his chest, he simply couldn’t do it. He couldn’t focus on the movie, or the white noise of cars passing by outside and the rain steadily pouring down, all he could focus on was your hands and your breathing as you watched the movie. Quinn hadn’t admitted it to anyone, probably not even fully to himself yet just how attached he was to you. You were his favorite person, by far. His quiet demeanor never seemed to bother you, and you had the ability to calm him down yet challenge him when he needed it. You never made him feel like he was Quinn Hughes of the Vancouver Canucks, instead, he felt like just Quinn with you, a feeling he only ever experienced when he was back home with his family in Michigan. It might not have been obvious to him, but everyone else knew he was as in love with you as someone could be with a person they weren’t actually with. Even his mom asked about you frequently, smiling as he would tell her whatever mundane thing about you that he had thought of that day. You were the only person he willingly let this close to him, and people noticed. 

“What time is it?” You groaned, moving from his lap. Your back was slightly stiff, and you were kind of warm as you peeled the blanket from both of your bodies. The tv was turned off, and the sky outside was pitch black. Quinn slowly opened his eyes, a soft and sleepy smile on his face as he pulled you back into his chest. 

“Sleep time.” He hummed. You laughed softly and pressed your hands into his chest. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed, q.” 

A few weeks later, after American Thanksgiving had come and gone, you found yourself surrounded at a small table with some of the other young Canucks at a holiday charity event. Quinn had practically begged you to go with him to the fundraiser, complaining that he had no idea how to decorate gingerbread houses, and if you weren’t there to help him then Brock and Petey would never let him hear the end of how ugly he ultimately would turn out. You agreed pretty quickly, rolling your eyes at his concern and reassuring him that he shouldn’t feel bad even if his was the ugliest gingerbread house of the entire group.

Quinn was entirely out of his element as the kids tossed around various candies and made a mess at the table you were all sitting at together. His eyes were wide and he was quietly focussed on his own tragic house. You watched him try to concentrate on building a roof, struggling to hold in your laughter, and Brock and Elias relentlessly teased his efforts. 

“Look Quinn, mistletoe!” Quinn shot a look to Brock instantly at his words, his eyes shooting daggers into his friend as he held mistletoe up above the two of you. You sat there in shock, silently hoping that Brock would simply let this whole thing go without a fight so that you wouldn’t end up embarrassed and hurt. Unfortunately for you and him, the kids instantly jumped at the chance of forcing you to kiss, almost all of them egging it on and making kissy faces at the two of you.  

Quinn swore he was going to force Brock and Petey to block 50 of his shots next practice for how they were acting. It was bad enough that the kids were hounding him to kiss you, but he didn’t need it from his friends who knew about his long harbored crush on you. You took it all in stride though, a slight blush to your cheeks that Quinn found himself melting even moreover. It also didn’t help that you were there, wearing one so his jerseys, his name on your back. He wanted to kiss you, but the last thing he wanted was for you to think that it was all the accumulation of these pesky kids bullying him into it. 

Quinn tried to brush off the attempts at pushing the two of you together. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you, he did, but he wanted it to be under his own terms and a moment that was more special than at a fundraiser event with a bunch of children and Brock watching. He shook his head at Brock, mouthing for him to cut it out. Brock was having none of it though, knowing that a kiss was a long time coming between you and if Quinn wasn’t going to make the move quickly, then he was going to take advantage of the situation and attempt to get things moving between you. About every guy on the Canucks roster had about had enough of Quinn talking about how much he liked you without doing anything about it, and Brock saw the opportunity and took it. 

“Pucker up kids, there’s mistletoe now. You can’t break the Christmas law that is mistletoe,” Brock smirked, hanging the mistletoe above both of your heads. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Quinn wanted to smack the not so subtle smirk off of his face.

You grabbed his arm, turning to face him with a soft smile on your face. You almost felt bad for him, sensing how uncomfortable he was at the situation, but something about the way he was carrying himself had you hoping that maybe he did want to kiss you and that had you fluttering with excitement as you leaned in. Quinn just looked at you nervously, unable to react as you quickly grabbed his face, and softly pressed his lips to yours. The kids cheering in the background, and Elias and Brock smirking at the success of their efforts. It was almost too much, but he found himself grabbing your cheek and kissing you back, his heart beating so fast and loud he was sure that you would hear it. 

You smiled into the kiss, pulling back with a bright crimson shade present on your cheeks, a wide-eyed Quinn in front of you. For a moment you thought maybe you had messed everything up, maybe Quinn had absolutely no feelings for you and that’s why he was looking at you like he looked at most other people who he didn’t know. But it didn’t take Quinn long to smile and grab your hand, lacing your fingers together and going back to decorating the tragic gingerbread houses sitting in front of you, a soft smile present on his face the rest of the afternoon. 

Quinn has debatably taken your ugly Christmas sweater idea a bit too seriously, so seriously in fact that you were genuinely impressed when he came to pick you up in a dark green holiday sweater, complete with a reindeer and light up antlers on his chest as you opened your front door. You laughed a bit, shaking your head as you took him in. You found it sweet that he made the extra effort, knowing that you were in a bad mood and probably just wanted to cheer you up. You wordlessly grabbed your bag and locked your door, following Quinn quietly out to his car. 

The drive to Bo and Holly’s was quiet, Quinn focused on the dark roads as he drove. You watched out the window, looking at the shiny pavement that was slick with the steady rain that Vancouver knew for the majority of the winter. Things with Quinn had felt weird since you kissed him under the mistletoe, you couldn’t explain the shift because as much as you hoped the kiss would show him your feelings for him, he never brought it up. You supposed that you were partially to blame, you could have put your heart out there with him, but you also felt like you had already done that by kissing him those weeks ago, and him not saying anything only sank your heart further. So instead of dwelling on it, you tried to enjoy your time with him as usual, pushing your feelings to the side in hopes that in time they would evaporate and you would be okay just being his friend again. 

You fumbled around in your bag as he parked outside of the Horvat’s house, flicking his light-up sweater on with a soft smile as he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. 

“Quinn wait.” You started. You reached out and grabbed his thigh softly, pulling your hand back quickly when you realized what you were doing, your nerves bubbling up into your chest. You pulled a small wrapped box from your bag, fiddling with it in your hands as he watched you carefully. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as you handed him the present. 

“Happy first day of Hanukkah.” You smiled. Quinn grinned at you in response, his heart softening at you remembering. Not that he thought you forgot, but you were after all parked outside of his captain’s house, dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters, about to attend the annual Canucks Christmas party. So while he didn’t think you forgot, it meant a lot to him that you vocally remembered and thought of him enough to get a gift. 

Quinn carefully unwrapped the present and shook his head as he pulled the item from its box. He ran his hand over the keychain, the New Orleans Saints logo clear as day on the charm. 

“I should have known not to expect something serious.” He joked as he put the keychain on his keys, a small act that caused butterflies to rush into your stomach. 

“Yeah well, your taste in football sucks so I had to remind you who you should be cheering for.” You replied, smirking slightly at him. Quinn leaned over the center console, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek so quickly that you were sure you didn’t even have time to take one breath as he pulled away. Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly parted at his outward display of affection, no sign of him thinking anything of it. You gulped a bit as you tried to hide the blush on your cheeks. Quinn didn’t say anything, instead, he smiled and climbed out of the car, waiting patiently for you to grab the punch you made and join him on the short walk to the front of the house, the moment between you quickly passing as you headed into the party. 

You walked into the home, smiling in awe at how beautiful the decorations were. Your eyes wandered around the room, stopping on the huge tree in the living room, covered with red and green ornaments and lights. The whole house smelled like fir, and it was warm and inviting as you starting noticing the various players and their families who were scattered throughout the room. 

Holly led you into their kitchen to help you get the punch set up for the rest of the guests. She took the large pitcher from your hands and set it on the counter. Quinn had been pulled another direction from you and was now talking with Elias in the living room as you were in the kitchen with Holly. You were a little nervous being alone with her, having only met her a handful of times at various events that you had gone to with Quinn. But she offered you a friendly smile and the first glass, which helped your nerves settle. 

“Ah, Mrs. Huggy! You’re here!” You heard from behind you, an audible gasp at the nickname escaping from your lips as Jake slid up behind you and hugged you. You quickly turned out of his grasp and shot him a glare, glancing past him in hopes that Quinn hadn’t heard his friend call you that. 

“Jake! Shut up!” You whispered harshly, whacking him lightly in the chest. He just laughed at you in return, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a now smirking Holly and a tint on your cheeks that you were hoping would go away before Quinn came back to find you. You took a long sip of your drink, resigning yourself to the fact that this night was probably going to be long, and you definitely needed the liquid courage to get yourself through it. 

About an hour and two drinking games later, you found yourself tipsy and less nervous around Quinn and your friends, them seemingly forgetting about your unrequited crush in favor of arguing who got to have him as their beer pong partner, something that Quinn was shockingly undefeated at. 

You walked into the kitchen, bypassing Brock who was leaning against the counter, typing away on his phone. He didn’t notice you as you walked by him and over toward the drinks that were on the counter, refilling yours and taking a moment to yourself. You didn’t notice that Quinn had followed you into the room, jumping slightly when you heard his voice coming from behind you. 

“Hey so remember when you kissed me?” You nearly choked on your drink, the contribution you had decided to bless the party with, a punch that only came out during the holidays, containing what you could only describe to people as 90% alcohol and a 10% chance of blacking out. You were only on your third cup, not near inebriated enough for this potential conversation with Quinn. The truth was that you of course remembered kissing him, the feeling of it had been cycling around your brain since the charity event last week, but he never brought it up with you, so you were forced to pack your feelings back up into a tightly taped box, hoping that one day you could pull said box out and give it to him properly. 

Quinn however had consumed almost four cups of your famous Christmas party punch, sending him well on his way passed tipsy and onto the train towards the loud drunk you rarely saw from him. He had wanted to kiss you again, a secret tucked deep in his chest that was bubbling up to the surface with the more drinks he had. He took in your appearance, your hair was down and you had a slight blush to your cheeks from your makeup, the Christmas sweater hanging from your body was stupid and endearing and all he could think about was tossing it onto the floor. 

“Mhm, yes I do remember something of that sorts happening, Quinn,” you said, smirking softly at him, a complete act to hide your growing nerves. Quinn smiled the widest drunk smile you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how cute he was. 

“Can I kiss you this time?” He asked, loud enough that Brock turned his head from where he was standing, a few feet away in the kitchen as he was on his phone. He raised his eyebrows at you, smirking a bit before turning and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you and Quinn to yourselves as your heart beat faster in your chest. You gulped back the rest of your drink, setting it down and stepping toward him. Quinn’s hands instinctively went to your waist, pulling you in closer with a lazy smile on his face and a soft expression in his eyes. 

“You gonna kiss me or what, Quinn?” Your heart was pounding so loudly, you were thankful for the chatter coming from the kitchen, someone yelling about winning what must have been that round of beer pong. Quinn smiled at you and it only made things worse, the moment feeling like it was hanging in time as you waited not so patiently for him to press his lips to yours again. You almost thought you were imagining the entire thing as he grabbed your cheek, leaning in and closing his eyes. As soon as his lips touched yours you melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging softly on his dark hair. You smiled into the kiss, not caring who was watching because all that mattered was Quinn. 

Quinn pulled back and continued to hold you, a blush evident on both of your cheeks and smiles that were big and wide. You buried your head into his chest and he kissed your head, no words needing to be spoken between you, it was like you both knew exactly what the other person wanted to say. You knew how Quinn felt, and he knew how you felt, your hearts practically beating in each other’s ears as you shared a not so private moment in the kitchen, a cheesy Hallmark movie type ending that you loved. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, I really like you.” Quinn murmured, running his hand softly along your hip as he looked down for your reaction. You leaned up and kissed him once more, smiling into it and squeezing him gently. 

“I like you too, even if you hate Christmas movies and have terrible taste in football teams.” You said, earning a laugh out of your favorite person. The two of you spent the rest of the party stealing drunk kisses together, your minds fuzzy with the not new feelings but new ability to express them openly with each other, regardless of anyone else’s opinions or comments. Quinn was absolutely your favorite person, and you couldn’t believe you were finally getting to be with him in the way that you had wanted to for months, even with his stupid reindeer sweater on. 

[clockotea]

Chain Thoughts

Words- 4096

Warnings- Read below.  Dissociation, depression.

Ships- Slight Purly.

Notes- Okay yeahhhhhhhhhhh. I didn’t proof read this or edit it. I just wanted it done, because I like concept of this headcanon, however I don’t have motivation to edit. If you see some problems with spelling, grammar or whatever, I apologize. I’ll edit it later. I went through moments like Ponyboy does in this when I was younger and there are times where I still do. I’ve been busy with school so this took me awhile, and now we are going back on wednesdays so I won’t have that much time to write. I also rushed the ending :( I’m thinking about writing about if Ponyboy got put into a boy’s home. SO YEAH

-Ally-Lx

Headcanon- This headcanon belongs to @chaotically-cas

“When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.”

It didn’t make sense. There were seven days in a week. So, why did Ponyboy only remember waking up 5 out of the seven days? Ponyboy pushes his potatoes to the side with his spoon. His other hand rubs his chain between his fingers. All he remembers was an argument with Darry before falling into a daze.

“What’s the matter with you, Ponyboy? Normally you would be stuffin’ your face.” Says Soda with a mouth full.

“What? Were you raised in a barn, little man?” Scolds Darry. Soda smirks and nods his head. Darry glares daggers at Soda. He slaps him in the back of the head, causing him to choke. Soda swallows this chicken and points his fork at Darry. He says some funny threat making Darry chuckle, but Ponyboy couldn’t process it. Ponyboy rubs his forehead where a migraine was starting to form.

“Ponyboy.” Darry’s voice breaks him out of his trance.

“Hm?”

“Mrs. Rutt called today.” He crosses his arms, expecting Ponyboy to explain why.

“Darry, just get to it.”

“She says you have 6 missing assignments.” 

Darry didn’t have bad grammar skills, like the rest of the greasers. He didn’t cut his ing’s short. He didn’t round his vowels, either. It was considered formal until the rest of the gang was there. Even then, his speech was formal. 

How did I forget about the 6 assignments?

“Ponyboy, you can’t just go running off forgetting about your homework.” States Darry. His face seemed to be made out of stone. The light draped over him like a cloth, creating perfect shadows that outlined his muscles. 

“I wasn’t- that’s not it-”

“Oh, cut him some slack, dare-bear,” Darry grumbles at his nickname. “It’s not like you have never had a late assignment.”

Ponyboy grabs his plate. He goes to put the food into a container.

“You haven’t been excused.”

“I didn’t realize I was eating with the president.” He sneers back.

“Yeah, well, you better sit your ass down.” Ponyboy freezes to see if Darry takes action.

“Ponyboy, hand me your plate. I’ll finish your food.” Soda says, breaking the silence. He nods and hands the glass plate to Soda.

“I’m going to go do those assignments.” Ponyboy whispers hoarsely. He fidgeted with his chain looking for approval from Darry. Darry sighs and nods.

IT WAS ONLY THE START

What am I doing? Ponyboy looks around. It didn’t feel real to be walking to the dingo in these jeans. Where am I going? Ponyboy looks around. The sun was dipping below the horizon yet beaming down on him. Ponyboy’s hair had turned a reddish-brown in the sunlight. The grease in his hair reflected against the sunlight. 

Think, C’mon Ponyboy. Think. What do you remember last? Last night, he and Darry had gotten into an argument. It was about how he managed school work. The entire gang was there. He brought up how Ponyboy had 6 missing assignments. Steve had chimed in and said that Ponyboy had skipped class. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I’m ahead in that class. But the argument had gotten blown out of proportion when Two-Bit said he saw him and Curly hanging out. It was bad when Darry said he didn’t want Curly around Ponyboy alone, but when he said he didn’t want them together at all, Ponyboy couldn’t help but argue back.

‘Ponyboy.” Ponyboy snaps his head to the voice. Hair slicked back... leather jacket… mickey shirt… boots… rust color hair… grey eyes. Two-bit.

“You alright, Pony?” He holds the door open. 

“Yeah. I’m good.” Lies Ponyboy. He felt as if he had taken a huge step off a cliff, into a cold pool of water. It made him feel cold and as if he was on autopilot. 

He takes a step up into the crisp air. The sound of chatter. The smell of what? The smell of fries. Warm red-colored booths. The pale floor seemed to gleam under the neon blue sign above the menu. He scans the room to see who Two-bit would be hanging out with. Ponyboy blinks as he makes his way to Johnny Cade beside Two-bit. Johnny nods his head at Pony. The seats crack under the weight of Ponyboy. Two-bit smiles.

“Hey, Ponyboy. What you doin’ walkin’ all your lonesome?” Johnny asks, clearing his throat.

“I saw him standing outside looking around like a doof,” Laughs Two-bit. “So, he’s just being his regular self.”

All of Ponyboy’s doubt seems to drip away the more Two-bit teases him. Ponyboy makes snarky comments back as Johnny scans his eyes over Ponyboy. Johnny shakes his head and messes with his jacket.

“Alright, guys. Enough,” Chuckles Johnny. “Ponyboy walking around alone is just asking for you to get jumped.”

Two-bit smirks mischievously, “Aw, c’mon Johnny. Ponyboy is tough. He can take on 5 socs at once.” Ponyboy smiles. 

Johnny shakes his head, “I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to him,”

“As I said, he can handle any soc. The only person he cannot handle is me.”

“Oh yeah?” Smirks Ponyboy.

“Yeah!” Two-Bit slams his elbow on the table. “Let’s go. I’m stronger than 10 of you”

“Let’s find out!” Ponyboy slams his palm into Two-bit’s.

The two boys arm wrestle until they are red in the face. Johnny laughs at how they struggle and refuse to give up. They didn’t want their pride to be damaged. The 3 boys ate fries that were too salty. Two-bit would eat their fries instead of his, letting his fries go cold. Ponyboy sipped his Pepis as Johnny messed with the whipped cream on his milkshake. It wasn’t until Two-bit brought up Ponyboy’s curfew did they get up to leave. Ponyboy felt as if everything in the world was right. He was smiling and laughing. Everything was right until they got home. Then it feels as if Ponyboy was in the pool of water again and drowning. 

Why is it only happening to me?

Ponyboy flipped over to his stomach. Darry had told him to get up 30 minutes ago. Ponyboy used to be an early bird. He would wake up and sneak out onto the roof to watch the sunset. His mom would come up with him and sit with him. It was a time where Ponyboy was comfortable. It was a time when he felt safe and didn’t have to worry about Darry throwing him into a boy’s home.

What was the point of getting out of bed, when no matter what you do, it irritates people? He already knew how Steve felt about him. Dallas barely talked to him. He was always out messing around. They often thought of him as a kid. 

Ponyboy softly runs his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t feel angry or sad that the gang thought of Ponyboy like that. It made sense. Am I really that annoying? I don’t mean to be. Ponyboy sighs. He didn’t want to get out of bed, it was too warm and comfortable. It’s the only place I can’t screw up.

The door swings open and slams with a crash. Ponyboy rolls his eyes with annoyance. His back was warm, and felt as he was laying in a hay stack. He shifts uncomfortably. 

“Ponyboy?” calls out Whos voice is that? Dallas.

“Hm, Yeah?” whines Ponyboy. Dallas walks in. His hair was flowing all over. His jean jacket looked stiff, the buttons raddled against his chain. Dallas’s pants dipped into every crevice everytime he moved. He raises his eyebrow at the fact that Ponyboy is still in bed. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you when you are having personal time.” He says chuckling.

“C’mon Dallas, tease me all you want. Just don’t tell Darry that I’m still in bed,” mutters Ponyboy. Dallas presses his lips into a thin line. The bed dips into Dallas’s favor as he stares at Ponyboy, as if he had just spoken a random language to him.

“You mean to tell me that Ponyboy Curtis hasn’t left bed all morning?” He questions.

“No sir,” Says Ponyboy into his pillow. Dallas whistles and continues to stare at him. Dallas smelled of booze, metal, and cigarettes. Dallas pulls a cigarette from his pocket. He flicks a match against the box and lights it up.

“Aw, c’mon Dal, you know Darry will kill me if he smells cancer-stick smoke in me and Soda’s room.” Ponyboy sits up and glares at Dallas. His hair falls over his forehead and partly in his eyes. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back lightly. The sunlight reflects in his eyes.

“Ponyboy, you feelin’ alright?.” He asks, puffing smoke out of his mouth. The smoke coats the room in a thin layer, of the gray, toxic, cloud.

No, something is wrong

“Yeah, just thought today was supposed to be a lazy day.” Ponyboy states.

“Well, not anymore!” He hollers. “Curly was practically begging me to give him Darry’s schedule so he can sneak in and talk to you. I couldn’t betray Darry’s trust that much, so I’m just going to take you to him.”

“So, he’s finally out of the cooler?” mumbles Ponyboy.

“He’s been out for a week. Just hasn’t had time to see you.” Dallas smiles at Ponyboy, like Curly not sparing time for him was funny. I wouldn’t spare time for me either. What was it that made Ponyboy sick to his stomach? The fact that it was summer break and Curly was “busy”, or the fact that he didn’t even come himself. 

“Why didn’t you just bring him here?” Asks Ponyboy reaching for a shirt. He digs his fingers into the soft fabric of a black shirt. It was tossed to the side from last night, when it got too hot to keep it on.

“He’s busy with Tim. Said he’ll meet you there.”

Ponyboy slips the the shirt on. The feeling of being alone and disconnected was joining him again. Ponyboy sighs and rubs his forehead. He twists his chain in between his fingers. The cold, round, edge pushes down into Ponyboy’s skin. Dallas stands and pats his shoulder.

“Get ready,”

“I’m not going, Dallas,” Ponyboy whispers.

Dallas drops his gaze, “Oh, how come? Don’t want to disappoint Darry?” 

Dallas goes to pinch Ponyboy’s cheeks, but Ponyboy catches his wrists.

“Screw off, Dallas.” He sneers.

“Oh, Jesus. I get you might get jealous about not seeing him, and you want to create a statement but-”

Maybe it would all stop if I gave up and listened to Darry.

“I don’t want to create a statement, Dally. I got enough stress on my back with me arguing with Darry. I can’t handle whatever crime he’s gonna’ get himself into when I’m around. It would make Darry furious” 

“What’s the point of having rules if it ain’t for them to be broken.” Chuckles Dallas.

Ponyboy sighs and rubs his temples. It was getting harder and harder to process what he was saying, why he was mad, why he wanted to understand Darry.

“No, it would put stress on Darry. He has enough stress with me here.” He argues.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m starting to think you being put into a boy’s home would make it less stressful for Darry.” Chuckles Dallas. Dallas thought he was making a light-hearted joke. Something that was going to make Ponyboy chuckle, and he would get over it. Ponyboy couldn’t help but let everything take over. Before he knew it he was, so out of it, he didn’t know what they were arguing about.

“It would be… wouldn’t it?” Murmurs Ponyboy. Dallas’s eyes shoot up, trying to catch the emotion on Ponyboy’s face. Ponyboy’s eyes used to be warm summer green that would look grey in different lighting. They were kind of green that was warm and welcoming, like the green leaves that would grow on the tree’s Darry and Sodapop would climb when his parents were alive. Used too. All the stuff that made Ponyboy look like a kid was slowly fading.

“Hey, you know I ain’t mean that,” Chuckles Dallas. “It was a light-hearted joke.”

Ponyboy chuckles, “Yeah, I know. I’m still not going.”

“Alright… “ Ponyboy sits on the bed as Dallas closes the door behind him. Why was this feeling only happening to him? Why wasn’t it happening to Sodapop or Darry?

I tried, I really did.

Sodapop’s hands were warm compared to Ponyboy’s back. Ponyboy had been feeling colder ever since he stopped eating as much. He was sleeping in sweatpants, and hoodies trying to keep his body heat. Soda had slid his hands up his shirt and was rubbing his back just like their dad used to. Darry sat in the chair watching his brother comfort Ponyboy.

“Pony, are you alright?” questions Soda.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Darry can’t help but bite his lip, a habit he picked up when he was nervous.

“You haven’t left our bed yet. Steve and I are going to a party. Do you want to join us?”

He’s a tag-along, Soda.

“No. I don’t want to be a tag-along and annoy you and Steve.”

“Ponyboy… You’re not a tag-along.” He whispers.

They sit in comfortable silence, waiting for the other to speak. Soda’s fingers trace over Ponyboy’s spine. He runs his nails all the way to where his pants start. Sodapop’s eyes fill with concern. Ponyboy shift’s to face Soda. His eyes were hazy and cold. His cheeks were no longer a soft red but a pale tone of peach. His lips weren’t a rose pink and curved into a smile. He looked tired, cold, and bored.

“Maybe you and Darry could go to the movie theater?” Suggest Sodapop.

“No, I don’t feel like it.”

“Ponyboy quit bein’ difficult. You can’t be lazy all day.”

“C’mon Darry, just leave him alone.” Says Soda.

“I would be going out and having fun if you allowed me to see Curly.” 

“Is that what this is about. Are you acting this way over Curly?” Gasps Darry.

“I ain’t actin’ weird, and yes, I’m still angry about you banning me from seeing Curly.”

“Why, he ain’t that important.” Soda says softly. Steve walks in and leans on the door frame. 

“I finally have a friend that’s my age and is my friend not because of my brothers, and then you banned me from seeing him.”

“... He’s not wrong, Darry.” Says Steve.

“He’s a bad influence!” scowls Darry.

“Yeah, and Dallas ain’t?”  Ponyboy could feel the confusion in Soda. He knew it wasn’t just about Curly. Darry was picking up on Ponyboy’s body language and could tell. The reason why he was acting this way was not just about curly.

“Darry, Curly likes Ponyboy as a friend too. He asked why you didn’t sneak out to see him the other day.” Said Soda looking at his brother. His face was tight, and his hair was slicked back. He smelled of cheap cologne like he was going to impress Sandy.

“I didn’t want to sneak out because it would stress out Darry, but now that he knows that I was asked to sneak out to see him.” Ponyboy sits up and looks at Darry. “I’m askin’ kindly. Otherwise, I’m just gonna sneak out.”

“Ponyboy, you shouldn’t be speakin’ to your elders like that. Darry has done so much for you. Your lucky he didn’t send you to a boy’s  home!” Sneer Steve. His patience was dwindling. Evie was waiting for Steve. She had called him and reminded him about how dolled up she was getting just for him. Why wouldn’t he want to rush to his beautiful girlfriend?

“Steve!” Hollers Darry.

“Yeah, and I bet he regrets not putting me in one.” Taunts Ponyboy. He stands up and walks out of his room. The wood creaks under his weight. 

“Ponyboy, I ain’t gonna put you into a boys home!” Calls out Darry.

“Why not? You already suffer from the bills! Why should you worry about me!”

“Ponyboy!” Sodapop reaches for him. Ponyboy yanks his arm out of Sodapop’s hand. Ponyboy slips on his white converse. His feet fit perfectly in the soles of them. The shoe curve at the right places, cradling his feet as he runs out the door.

Where are my memories going?

The last thing Ponyboy remembers was storming out of the house. The next thing he knows, he’s sitting next to a curly hair boy. Curly had seen Ponyboy running off and went running after him. Curly basically tackled the skinny boy. He gripped his arm and pinned him. The fear that was in Ponyboy’s eyes made him worry. Curly watched as Ponyboy’s lips curved into a frown.

“Tell them before it gets worse.” Cuts in Curly.

“They won’t understand.” Chokes out Ponyboy.

“If I understood everything you said and I’m worried. Then your brothers will be worried.”

“Yeah, because Darry is just one brain cell smarter.” Snorts Ponyboy. Curly gives him a rough smirk. Curly watched as the sun reflected in Ponyboy’s eyes. 

“Curly I-”

“No overthinkin’. just sit here in silence before you say some dumb shit.” Ponyboy grins at the sky. The silence covered the boys like a thick blanket. It made them feel safe and like they are in their own bubble. Ponyboy turned to Curly to admire his figure.

The grass caressed his cheek, and Curly’s smile softened. His body looked like it could’ve been shaped out of clay. His hair curled around the edges of his face. The grease in his hair was already starting to wear off, making his hair fling up. The sky paled yellow, then crimson, and with one deep breath, electric indigo.

Why aren’t they noticing? 

Ponyboy woke in Darry’s arms. He had been thrashing around and screaming, trying to wake himself up. Darry’s grip tightens around the boy. Even though Ponyboy had awakened from the nightmare he was suffocating in, Darry didn’t let go. Darry’s arms felt as if they were melting the thin layer of ice on Ponyboy’s skin.

“ I got you.” Who? Who has me? 

“I-I” Gasps out Ponyboy. His nails dig into Darry’s skin. The smell of sweat and wood.

“Who’s holding me? Who is holding me?” He whispers. Darry’s grip tightens on the fragile boy. His strong figure had gotten smaller. The damage of not eating as much as he used too was showing through. Although he was still stronger than most kids his age, Ponyboy struggled to get out of Darry’s arms.

“I need you to calm down.” Scowls Darry. Tears start streaming down his face. Ponyboy feel’s as if he’s back in the cold pool of water, and drowning. He gasps trying to let the air reach his air, but nothing could get through. 

“No.. N-no,” Stutters Ponyboy. “I can’t remember who you are. Please, I can’t remember who you are.” 

I don’t know who’s holding me. I don’t know where I am, and why I’m here. I don’t know my name. 

“What? What are you talkin’ about?” Darry’s voice was laced with concern.

“I can’t even remember my name.” Cries out Ponyboy. He tries once again to push Darry’s arms away. Darry just pulls him closer.

“Ponyboy. Your name is Ponyboy,” Whimpers Darry. “I’m your brother, Darry.”

Ponyboy shakes his head and starts crying harder. He gave up on pushing away Darry. The entire house creaked, as the leaves scrapped on the outside of the house. Darry’s hands start shaking, they grip Ponyboy’s arms harder.

“Ponyboy-” Starts Darry. Ponyboy doesn’t feel like he is in his body. He feels as if he was floating around his body. It was cold and all he wanted was his parents. Aren’t they dead? To come get him, and wake him up. He wanted them to push him back into his body. Darry stops the questions when every time he asked, Ponyboy shakes his head no. He let the small boy fall asleep

It’s come to come home.

Ponyboy wakes up in Darry’s arms. It was soft whispers circling around him. Ponyboy could feel the goosebumps prickling on his skin. Are they going to send me to a boy’s home? Is there something wrong with me?

“So, let me get this straight, he didn’t remember you or his name?” Cuts in Sodapop’s slow and hoarse voice.

“Yes, Sodapop. That’s what I said.” Darry says harshly.

“I don’t know, Darry. He could’ve just been shocked from the nightmare… remember how he got them right after mom and dad died? They never really went away. The doctor just said he needs to run outta energy. He barely leaves our bed anymore. His nightmares could just be getting worse.”

“No, this was different, Sodapop. I wouldn’t be telling you if it wasn’t. I’m thinking about taking him to the doctor again.”

“No offense Darry, but can we even afford it? I care about Ponyboy too, but I don’t think we can afford it.” Whimpers Soda.

“No, I don’t think we can,” Whispers Ponyboy. Both Sodapop and Darry’s eyes trace over his figure. Ponyboy pushes Darry’s arm off of him. He sits up and flops on his stomach, away from the boys. The cold air hit his back. He felt as if he just go out of a sauna. “Plus, it was just another one of my nightmares. It’s no big deal.” 

“No Ponyboy, this one was different. You couldn’t remember me or your name.” 

“Just like Soda said, I was just in shock. It’s no big deal.”

“Ponyboy, it is a big deal. Please, let’s just take you to the doctor. I’ve already made the appointment.” Hisses Darry.

They are wasting money on me. Just because I’m sick if I could just suck it up.

“Darry, please. It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t take me to the doctors.” Ponyboy turns to his brother. He had changed for work. He wasn’t there. He called in sick. All because of me.

“Alright, so something is wrong,” Grumbles Sodapop. He sits up and grabs Ponyboy’s arm. “Pony, if nothing’s wrong explain everything. Why you’re acting weird, why you can’t get out of bed, why you look like you’re sick… why you are aggressive.” 

It clicks in their heads. They both look at Ponyboy as if he was crying. Concern was written all over their faces. Sodapop’s grip loosens. They saw it in their mom after Ponyboy was born. Mothers get depressed because they lost a part of them. Ponyboy was depressed because he lost a big part of his life.

“Oh, Jesus Ponyboy. Why didn’t you tell us?” Asks Darry.

“Tell you what? God, you both don’t know when to mind your own business.” Ponyboy stands and walks out of the room. The house was quiet but he could hear Steve’s and Two-bits voices outside the door.

“That doesn’t explain why he’s forgotten things.” Mutters Sodapop. He trails after Ponyboy with Darry. Ponyboy opens the white refrigerator door. He scans the fridge for a coke.

“No, eat some real food.” Demands Darry.

“With some water. I can’t remember the last time you drank water.” Murmurs Sodapop.

Ponyboy sighs as he grapes a coke. He slams the door shut and turns to his brothers.

“Nothing is wrong with me.”

“No, nothing is wrong with you. However, you do need help handling emotions.” Says Darry calmly. Ponyboy scrunches his eyebrows together. He scoffs and opens the coke.

“What about emotions?” Calls out Steve. The door slams shut behind him, rattling the entire house. The floorboards creak under Steves’s weight.

“Steve, give us a second for ourselves goddammit!” Cries out Darry.

“No, Steve come in. I was just about to go to Curly’s.”  Calls out Ponyboy. He lifts up his bottle to chug the rest of his drink. Darry pulls the drink out of Ponyboy’s hand.

“No, you’re not going to Curly’s. We’re taking you to the doctors or so help me Ponyboy-”

“No. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with me!”

“Your Ponyboy, lots of things are wrong with you,” Steve says chuckling.

“Steve, can you get out.” Says Ponyboy.

“Steve this is private.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Steve leaves the room leaving it to be silent.

“Ponyboy, just let us take care of you.” Whispers Darry. Darry runs his fingers through Ponyboy’s hair. His fingers glide through Ponyboy’s hair without any trouble. His hair didn’t have any grease in it. Ponyboy almost broke down there. He felt disconnected and helpless. Darry pulled him into his arms. 

It’s been a few months since Ponyboy was diagnosed. He went to the movies to draw him out of his head. To protect him from his thoughts. When Ponyboy stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, he had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.

They thought everything going on in Ponyboy’s head was horrible. They weren’t ready for what was going to happen.

[wowheadquarters]

don't be shy, drop ALL your Kel'Thuzad headcanons~

All of them? Hm. I don’t know if I remember all of them. Also, I stopped keeping track of WoW some time in the middle of the Battle for Azeroth, because it can either be WoW whcih I enjoy or shitwreck, and I chose WoW, which isn’t what Blizzard/Activision is currently serving- I meant to say that most likely my headcanons aren’t Shadowlands compatibile.

Anyway. Kel’thuzad headcanons of various importance as I remember them.

Kel’thuzad is his actual given name, it’s not a pseudonym or anything.

In Thalassian “kel’thuzad” mean “seeker of the truth”. (In Darnassian the same phrase is “keil tassad” and in Zandali “kel’ta sad”.)

Kel’thuzad speaks Common and Thalassian fluently. Before the Dark Portal opened he knew some phrases in Dwarven (conversational) and Gnomish (related to transport industry and mathematic). He can also speak Zandali with varying accents (mostly Amani), but he knows only five or six Zandali signs (he can sign his name, but that’s it).

After the Dark Portal opened, Kel’thuzad tried and failed to learn Orcish. He gained the skill later when it was a trial-and-error learning by communicating with Ner’zhul. Due to that Kel’thuzad’s accent when speaking Orcish is not “Human,” but distinctly Shadowmoon.

He also learned Nerubian from... well, the dead Nerubians. He can now both speak and write fluently even with encryption.

(There are 3 ways of Nerubian ecryptions and they can be simultaneously applied. This way there exist 7 versions of encryption plus 1 unencrypted text. These are known as the Eight Webs of writing. Plain text is written in the First Web, triple encryptin is the Eighth Web.)

He can read (but not speak) Nathrezim, and somewhat read and speak Shath’Yar, the language of the Old Gods. He would understand Quiraji if he ever encountered it, because it is very close to Nerubian (like Czech and Slovakian, I imagine).

The Language of Death, by the Scourge usually referred to as Deathspeak, is an artificial language created by Kel’thuzad. It is based on all languages he knew at the point of creating it, and is fairly easy to learn if you find a willing teacher. It was created for the members of the Cult of the Damned to understand ach other without them feeling like one language/race is put above the other, and to partially control their thoughts, as the language specifically hasn’t got some words or phrases (such as “rebellion”). Orwell would be proud.

He was brownhaired, but he greyed out fairly quickly when Ner’zhul settled in his head without paying any rent.

He was from Kul’Tiras. (I still want him to necromance a sunken ship. And a chalk cliff.)

His family name is Naxrierre. There is a theory that Naxrierres were a witch coven that became civilized with years, which is mostly spread by naysayers to explain the family’s talent towards magic. Another theory claims that they are a part-elven bastards which would besides the magic explain the name.

Kel’thuzad took the elf-Naxrierr theory to heart and in his ambition for one of his sons to make it somewhere else than the navy agve him a Quel’dorei name.

The suffix -ramas in Nerubian signifies not encessarily a necropolis but any place to permanently home dead bodies. “Naxxramas” is basically “Nax(rierre)’s tomb” but in Nerubian. 

As a mage in Dalaran Kel’thuzad studied arcanophysic, a way to describe and measure magic. This field is where all the calibration of spells or even negating spells comes from. He became the sole teacher of it in Dalaran, because he was the only one enthusiastic enough about it to bother.

He was that type of teacher who didn’t give homeworks, he hated correcting them. He also had his classes in the most unreasonable hours, such as 3 AM, because he had a busy schedule and non-existent sleep pattern.

Since Kel’thuzad’s banishment the knowledge of arcanophysics among the Dalaran mages has drasticaly declined and is nearly nonexistent nowadays. All books Kel’thuzad had written on it have been sealed away, which removed nearly all reliable sources from the public access.

Kel’thuzad actually had good relationships with his colleagues. He helped Alonda with her fild research on Trolls (hence his speaking Zandali).

His closest friend was Anthonidas. They used to be classmates once upon the time.

What really undermined Kel’thuzad’s trust and belief in Kirin Tor was what happened to Khadgar. He realized that Kirin Tor is not going to act if given a warning, and not going to help if hearing a plea.

He still tried to warn Kirin Tor before what he didn’t know was the Scourge. He had noticed the Amani “moving out of the way”. “Whatever will happen, and I believe that this time it will be the dead, because the demons haven’t tried that yet, it will happen in a single line from Lordareon to Quel’Danas. We know the Amani can see into the future, and they are clearing out of this path.” Dismissed as a doomsayer, he wasn’t really persistent in his warnins.

Ner’zhul’s talks to Kel’thuzad began as especially persistent migraines. Whenever Kel’thuzad tried to tell Anthonidas that his condition is serious, he was sent off with a mug of peacebloom tea and an advice not to stay up so late, and maybe lay off some stress.

The teacher who taught Thrall in his early years such stuff as writing, that was Kel’thuzad in disguise when he was rectuiting in and around Durnholde Keep.

No, Kel’thuzad has no idea the little pet-orc he was trying to groom and later kidnap for the Cult of the Damned (What a better liteunant than the one you raise yourself?) is Thrall, the Warchief of the Horde.

Kel’thuzad was tasked with finding and preparing the perfect new host for Ner’zhul. He was trying to overthrow the Lich King, so he picked Arthas as a paladin of Light whom he believed strong willed enough to handle it. And at the start of the story Arthas was.

His second choice for Lich King would have been Kael’thas.

He shuffled his cards in the deck of “Scourge politics” so that Bolvar Fordragon would take the Helm of Domination after Arthas. Players greta victory? Just according to keikaku.

He had (and still has) a “wanted poster” for Garrosh Hellscream. He really wanted him into the Scourge army. The reward was a whole necropolis with units.

Naxxramas had a dedicated “catkeeper” tasked with taking care of Mr. Bigglesworth and cleaning the acid/slime vats. Her name was Gwendoline, usually called Gwen, she is now one of Garrosh’s ghost children. Gwen died during the attack on Theramore where she was working as a spy for the Scourge.

Liches feed off people emotions and minds. The Lich Kign keeps it secret (even from Kel’thuzad) to keep them starved and obedient. The passive “nibbling” causes that people around liches start to be unfeeling.

Kel’thuzad has developed the Cure for the Plague quite early on. Ner’zhul made him test the plagues seeds on himself.

Speakig of that, Ner’zhul (and later Arthas as the Lich King) had a complete control over Kel’thuzad’s body, so if he refused to carry out an order, Ner’zhul could just make him do it anyway.

Additionally, the Lich King could kep him going despite injuries, exhaustion &c. Arthas fancied himself thinking that h killed Kel’thuzad, but the truth is that the cumulative injuries (several broken bones, stab wounds, a concussion, frostbites, poisonings), exhaustion and starvation were enough to kill Kel’thuzad twice over, no hammer needed. Ner’zhul just in that moment let Kel’thuzad die, because that was what he needed.

He used to play Hearthstone a lot when he was alive. He had a very good Hunter Murlock tribal deck.

He is asexual, and quite possibly aromantic too. In his words: “I believe in love on the first sight. And I am probably blind or something, as it seems.”

His favourite colour is purple.

Shortly before the capture of Bolvar Fordragon Kel’thuzad re-bound his phylactery from the whole urn to a single shard. The shard was sold by a cult of the Damned agent in Kul’Tiras to Taelia Fordragon as a lucky amulet.

Whenever as a lich Kel’thuzad regained his form, he always found himself knee-deep in water due to some fucking coincidences, starting with the Sunwell.

Speaking of Sunwell, he carries in himself  “a spark of Sunwell”. this has many benefits, such as power or not giving a fuck about Light being super-effective against the undead. It is a thing to be revealed out of the blue without prior warning when we need to reset the Sunwell (again).

He has enough knowledge of Troll and Orc shamanism to be considered a shaman, and too analytical and scientific mind to be actually good at it.

He also had made an oath to the Amani tribe that everything he’s learned from them would never be used to harm any Troll. It is why Kel’thuzad was not responsible for the havoc wrought in Zul’drak.

Naxxrams “responds” to Kel’thuzads emotions and feelings and even physical state. When he gets discorporated (killed), Naxxramas enters “save battery” mode. Naxxramas’ usual is “cold and static” and “cold and slightly shaking” which is Kelthuzad’s “bored” and “irritated” respectively.

He doesn’t like sweets, but he enjoyes crunchy stuff, be it cookies or fried potato slices. He craves the crunch.

He ate the flesh of several sapient beings. In several cases he knows it and the memory of ti makes him retch, even now when he is dead.

He likes dragons. He wants his own dreagonflight. (I have a headcanon abbout Sapphiron’s “Ivory” dragonflight of undead dragons.)

He has a saronite armour to match with the Bloodsurge. It decorates a ziggurat somewhere in Plaguelands. el’thuzad honestly doesn’t care. The armour has spikes on the inside, so if you put it on as a living being, you can’t take it off without bleeding out. A very emo move.

And I am tired now, so this will have to do for now. It’s not all of them, I am sure I haven’t thought of some area. But here we go.

[vsquadgoals]

Best friends (J.W) Part 3

Y/n woke up to Nerf nudging into her hair whimpering, she smiled remembering what happened last night between her and Jeff. She rubbed behind Nerf’s ears slowly sitting up, “Come on baby.” She whispers trying not to wake Jeff, it was still very early, and they had a late night. Y/n picked Nerf up from the bed and carried him out of the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind her after she put on one of Jeff’s t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. Nerf looks up at her wiggling his butt happily waiting for her to take him outside, “We’re going baby hold on.” She giggles putting him on the leash and slipping on a pair of slides Jeff had next to the door. 

Once Nerf finished doing his business outside, she brought him back inside removing his leash, she found his food and filled his bowl scratching the top of his head smiling. Y/n washed her hands and removed the slides and his sweatpants, it was hot in the apartment and she couldn’t figure out how to turn on the a/c. Y/n started making breakfast for her and Jeff, two egg white omelets, turkey bacon, and some home fries.  

The smell of bacon and potatoes wakes up Jeff, at first, he’s confused and then he remembers the night before and now he can’t wipe the smile off his face. He stretches and gets out of bed putting on a pair of boxers before walking out of his bedroom, he wraps his arms around Y/n’s waist as she plates the beautiful breakfast that she made for the two of them, he kisses her shoulder and hums happily. “Good morning Doll.” Jeff mumbles against her warm skin, “You look incredible in just my t-shirt” she looks over her shoulder at him smiling. “Good morning sleeping beauty.” She teases as she hands him his breakfast. “I’m gonna take out Nerf before I eat.” He says putting his plate on the kitchen island, “I already took him outside and he’s fed.” She says guiding him to a seat. “Sit and enjoy your breakfast.” Jeff grabs her wrist pulling her back over to him and kisses her softly on her lips. “You’re incredible, thank you.”  

After breakfast y/n starts doing the dishes while Jeff goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower, he strips his boxers before stepping under the hot water letting it wash away the sweat from the night before. “Jeff...” Y/n calls walking into the bathroom, “David wants everyone at his place at noon, can you bring me to my apartment to change before we go?” She asks leaning against the door frame. “Sorry doll I can’t hear you, you gotta come over here.” Y/n shakes her head smiling and walking over to the shower opening the glass door. “I said-” Jeff smirks and grabs her waist pulling her under the water. “I know what you said.” He laughs kissing her lips hard pressing her against the shower wall.  

Jeff pulled the soaking wet t-shirt over y/n’s head throwing it on the bathroom floor, she wraps her arms around his neck pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck attaching her lips to his again. Jeff’s hand wandered down her waist and gripped her ass tightly lifting her off the floor, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Y/n nibbled on Jeff’s earlobe “I want you to fuck me Jeff, please.” She whimpered into his ear, Jeff groaned and kissed lips hard and rough, “If you insist.” Jeff slowly lowered her onto his length and started thrusting into her hard and fast, his nails dug into her ass which would leave marks on her later.  

Y/n buried her fact into the crook of his neck moaning uncontrollably.  “God Jeff, don’t stop, please!!” Jeff pinned her against the wall thrusting into her harder, Jeff put his arms under her knees holding her up with her legs around his biceps. “You like how I fuck you doll?” Jeff grunts biting his lip looking into her eyes, he could tell she was close, her legs were shaking, and she was throbbing around his cock. “Yesss” was all she could say her entire body shaking.  

“Come on y/n, cum for me, I’m right with you.” Jeff moaned loudly his thrusts becoming sloppy, Y/n threw her head back against the shower wall as she came undone around him and he followed right after her. Jeff leaned his forehead against hers as they caught their breath, the shower water slowly turning cold. Y/n kissed Jeff’s lips softly as he slowly pulled out of her and placed her on her feet gently, “I’m getting wrinkly.” She whispered smiling against his lips.  

Once they dried off Jeff gave her another t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, “So David’s?” he asked smirking. “Yes, but my apartment first so I can get my own clothes.” she giggled grabbing her outfit and bag from the night before off the bedroom floor. Y/n kissed Nerf’s head and scratched behind his ear, “bye baby boy.” She cooed as he wiggled his butt happily, Jeff smiled wide at the interaction, “Wow I wish you scratched behind me ears like that.” He teased grabbing her hand and interlacing their fingers leaving the apartment locking and closing the door behind them.  

Y/n ran into her apartment leaving Jeff in the car waiting for her, since they were going to David’s and they never knew what he was going to get them into she always dressed casually. She changed out of Jeff’s clothes and into a mustard t-shirt, ripped, high waisted mom jeans and a pair of vans. Y/n left Jeff’s clothes on her bed; he wasn’t getting them back just yet.  

Jeff watched all his friends ig stories from the night before chuckling to himself while he waited for Y/n to come out from her apartment. Y/n got into the passenger seat of Jeff’s car and smiled at him. “Ready?” y/n nodded kissing his check. “So... are we telling everyone yet or no?” She asked chewing on her lip as they made the short drive to David’s. Jeff cleared his throat not expecting the question, “I don’t want to hide it, why should we? I mean unless you’re not ready.” Now Jeff was the nervous one, “Thank god, I don’t want to hide it either. I couldn’t imagine hiding what makes me the happiest.” She laced their fingers together and his kissed the top of her hand. “Good.” Jeff whispers against her hand kissing it a few more times.  

They parked in front of David’s and David, Natalie, and Todd were the only ones there so far. Y/n was happy about this it made it less awkward, she didn’t want to have the entire groups eyes on them all at once. Y/n kissed him softly on the lips before getting out of the car and they started heading into David’s house. Jeff’s hand stayed pressed against her lower back as they made their way into the living room. “Hey guys!” Y/n called smiling at their friends. “FINALLY!!!!” They called happily seeing the two together, Jeff chuckled and smiled at his friends kissing the top of y/n’s head before Natalie pulled her into the kitchen away from the guys while they talked quietly, or so they thought, about the new relationship.  

“Where the hell did you guys go last night?” Natalie whispered to Y/n smirking. “We went to his apartment; I spent the night.” Y/n says nonchalantly, Natalie glared at her, her eyes begging for more information, but y/n’s lips were sealed. She winked at Natalie before heading into the living room and laid on the lovesac, “So, what did we miss last night?” Y/n asked looking at her friends, David rolled his eyes pointing to the lights about the pool table. “Zane and Heath fucked up my lights again.” everyone chuckled and shook their heads.  

The next people that showed up were Carly and Erin, they walked in vlogging and they came with gifts, Starbucks, Y/n was thrilled. “Ugh have I told you guys lately that I’m madly inlove with you?” She eagerly grabs her favorite drink from Carly’s hands, Carly smirks and flips her hair, “I mean you can tell us again we might have forgotten.” Y/n giggles and sips her drink happily before melting back into the lovesac careful not to spill or David would kill her. “So, what did I miss last night?” Erin asks as she sits on the couch turning off their vlog camera after filming giving everyone their drinks. David’s eyes widen looking between Y/n and Jeff, they both roll their eyes and nod giving him the permission to tell the girls about the newfound relationship, they know how much he loves people’s reactions. “JEFF AND Y/N ARE DATING” David shouts almost startling everyone, he wished he could film the reactions, but he wouldn’t take it that far, not yet at least.  

Erin and Carly’s eyes widen, and they squeal “Finally!!!” Jeff and y/n chuckle, “That seems to be everyone's reaction.” She giggles shaking her head. “Can you blame us?! We’ve all be watching you two flirt and deny your feelings for each other for what, A YEAR?” Jeff smirks and waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Y/n smirks at Jeff and winks at him, Todd changes the subject telling Erin about the fight at the frat house and they all fill her in on the festivities that took place at David’s after everyone came back.  

David takes out his laptop and starts editing the footage from the party which is the last almost finished. By now everyone has pretty much left and it’s just her, Jeff, David and Natalie. Jeff is now cuddled on the lovesac with Y/n his head on her chest as she runs her fingers through his hair. Natalie was sitting next to David helping him put the finishing touches on the vlog and reviewing it for him like she always did. “Looks great.” Natalie mumbles rewatching it again. Y/n was on her phone watching the stories from the night before chuckling to herself then she sees it, on Zane’s story, Zane is filming the party and the camera pans over the room and he zooms in on Todd and Natalie and you can see Jeff and y/n dancing VERY closely and his arm wrapped tightly around her waist the other hand is brushing her hair to the side so he can kiss and bite her neck. “Fuck.” She curses under the breath but loud enough for Jeff and her friends to hear her.  

“What’s wrong Doll?” Jeff asks sitting up off her and leaning on his elbow. Y/n hands him her phone replaying the story, Jeff must have missed this when he was watching them earlier or accidentally skipped over it. Jeff showed it to Natalie and David next, Y/n got up and paced the living room chewing on her nails destroying her manicure. Of course, she’s not the type to hide her relationship but they literally just got together last night, she would’ve liked to wait at least a little longer to tell their fans.  

“Y/n... It’s gonna be fine, no one has even posted anything online about it. I think you guys are gonna be okay.” She hummed nodding at Natalie’s statement. “You’re right...” She mumbled under her breath before looking at Jeff who was watching her chewing on his lip, Y/n sighed and made her way back to Jeff and sat on his lap wrapping her arms around his neck, she pecks his lips. “I want everyone to know but I don’t want our fans involved SO soon, it always makes things so complicated.” She reassured him, Jeff nodded and smiles at her. “I know Doll, I completely agree. I think we just ignore it, if we have him take it down it looks way worse than just leaving it up.” Y/n nods looking over at her friends who nod in agreement as well.  

Jeff yawns and rubs his eyes, “Ready to leave?” he asks y/n who is now cuddled on the couch with Natalie and their watching tik toks together picking some that they want to film. She looks at Natalie and then at her boyfriend who’s now standing stretching his tired limbs. “I’m gonna stay here tonight with Nat. We’re gonna film some stuff, I need to post tomorrow.” She says standing slowly and wrapping her arms around him. Jeff frowns but nods kissing her forehead. “Okay, good idea. Walk me out?” He asks picking up his keys from the coffee table. Y/n looks at Natalie telling her she’ll be back before slipping on her shoes and following Jeff out to his car.

Jeff leans against his car door, he grabs her waist pulling her body against his roughly. “You sure you don’t wanna stay over again?” He asks sucking on her earlobe, Y/n sucks in a breath and bites her lip. “Jeff...” She whines feeling his member get hard against her. “God you know I want to.” She whispers before kissing his neck sucking and nibbling on it leaving small marks. Jeff grabs her ass squeezing tightly, Y/n rubs him through his shorts moving her lips to kiss him running her tongue over his bottom lip. Jeff groans against her lips “Fuck Y/n.” She puts her hands on his chest pushing away from him putting distance between them. “I have to go back inside.” She says biting her lip, Jeff groans and reaches out for her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She says before pecking his lips once more and turning to go back inside. Jeff watches her walk back inside biting his lip and watching how incredible her ass looks in those jeans.  

“Fuck.” Jeff mumbles running his hands through his hair trying to catch his breath. She was gonna get it tomorrow or teasing him like that.  

[96thdayofrage]

Mrs. Douglas was the music teacher. Let me be clear: she was not a music teacher, she taught music at the three predominately Black elementary schools in my hometown. She taught at a different school every day and, if you lived in Hartsville, S.C. any time between 1968 and 2006, she was the music teacher. Mrs. Douglas is the reason everyone from my childhood knows the words to “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” the Black national anthem.

Being home-schooled at a young age, my mother hadn’t shielded me from whiteness so much as she surrounded me with Blackness. But I longed to go to school. I wanted to play on a playground and carry books in a knapsack. Having to raise your hand to speak and eating square pizza seemed like so much fun, which is why I cherished Wednesdays with Mrs. Douglas. On Wednesday afternoons, Mrs. Douglas gave me private piano lessons in her home and I was her prized student. I was a child prodigy and–if I could just remember to lift my wrists and keep my posture straight–I was on the path to becoming the next Stevie Wonder or Ray Charles. I was always eager to play for Mrs. Douglas because she had one thing that inspired students to perform at the highest level:

Mrs. Douglas was beautiful.

Even as a ten-year-old, I could see it. Everyone could. Perhaps the best way to contextualize her beauty is to say she was a combination of Thelma and Willona from Good Times. She had a pre-Beyoncé level of fineness that made little boys swoon and little girls belt their hearts out in perfect tune. And, she began every gathering with the Black National Anthem–“Lift Every Voice and Sing.”

It really is a perfect song. God must have laid that on James Weldon Johnson’s heart because, in 169 words, he somehow captured the entirety of the Black experience. The lyrics are at once painful and triumphant without wallowing in our trauma. And when we hit that “Sing a song...” part, we really spill out all of our Blackness. In the annals of Black music, “sing a song” ranks right up there with Frankie Beverly’s “Before I let you goooooooo....” or Ricky Bell’s confession that “it’s driving me out of my mind.” If there’s anything Black America can do, we can sing a song.

Mrs. Douglas did not teach me the Black National Anthem. I have never been in a setting where people actually learned the words or the melody. Everywhere I went, people just seemed to know it. Looking back, this was probably the work of Mrs. Douglas, but for the first ten years of my life, I assumed everyone was born knowing how to blink their eyes, do the Electric Slide, and sing “Lift Every Voice.”

One Wednesday, at the end of our hourlong lesson, Mrs. Douglas gave me a copy of the Maya Angelou bestseller along with the sheet music to “Lift Every Voice,” as if one were necessary to understand the other. She told me that she would be teaching me how to play the anthem for the next few weeks but we could only begin after I read the pages she had bookmarked. In the chapter, Angelou describes her elementary school class singing the Negro National Anthem. I’m sure my piano teacher was trying to stress the importance of the song to our history and culture but all I could remember is Maya Angelou describing her anger after a local school board official denigrated the entire Black race during her grammar school graduation ceremony:

We were maids and farmers, handymen and washerwomen, and anything higher that we aspired to was farcical and presumptuous.

Then I wished that Gabriel Prosser and Nat Turner had killed all whitefolks in their beds and that Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated before the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, and that Harriet Tubman had been killed by that blow on her head and Christopher Columbus had drowned in the Santa María. It was awful to be Negro and have no control over my life.

It was brutal to be young and already trained to sit quietly and listen to charges brought against my color with no chance of defense. We should all be dead. I thought I should like to see us all dead, one on top of the other. A pyramid of flesh with the whitefolks on the bottom, as the broad base, then the Indians with their silly tomahawks and teepees and wigwams and treaties, the Negroes with their mops and recipes and cotton sacks and spirituals sticking out of their mouths. The Dutch children should all stumble in their wooden shoes and break their necks. The French should choke to death on the Louisiana Purchase (1803) while silkworms ate all the Chinese with their stupid pigtails. As a species, we were an abomination. All of us.

Jesus. Was I supposed to be reading this? Were white people this bad? Was the song this good? And how would this help me play the piano? It did not help my posture at all. I know this was probably Mrs. Douglas’s attempt to ensure that I would thank her in one of the Grammy speeches that I would surely give later in life but, Ma’am...

I. Was. Ten.

Still, enthralled by her beauty and a little disturbed by her reading assignment, I committed to playing the fuck out of that song. And, by “playing the fuck out of that song,” I basically hit the keys harder and with more emphasis (Did I mention I was ten years old?). It was obvious that Mrs. Douglas was pleased. For the next few years, I played “Lift Every Voice” at all the Black functions around town, including Pastors’ anniversaries, cotillions and every Black History Month program. I didn’t even need the sheet music. I didn’t know any other songs. To this day, my entire piano repertoire consists of “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” It was the only song I could interpolate into other keys.

But my favorite time to play the anthem was when Mrs. Douglas’s Combined Glee Club performed. The Combined Glee Club was basically the best singers from the Black elementary schools combined into one choir. Led by Mrs. Douglas, the CGC was the number-one ranked glee club in all of the greater Hartsville area. Not just anyone could be in the Combined Glee Club; you had to be selected by Mrs. Douglas. It was the official verification that you had musical talent. I’m sure some people put it on their college application.

If there was something Black going on, they were invited and those motherfuckers could sing. All of my neighborhood friends were on the Combined Glee Club and my best friend played the drums for them. (Yes, they had a drummer!) The CGC usually performed the Donny Hathaway version of “I Believe in Music” (which, until a few years ago, I believed was a song Mrs. Douglas had penned herself). But their specialty was opening up with “Lift Every Voice.”

If I am being honest, I have to admit that I am a tiny bit afraid of “Lift Every Voice and Sing” in the way that I am afraid of the Holy Ghost or making potato salad for a family dinner. I know how important it is to us, so I am afraid to mess it up. Even though I hadn’t been around white people, I somehow knew it was our song. I had never seen it on television or on the radio. It was like a secret handshake or a fried chicken recipe–It belonged exclusively to us. Plus, if I messed it up, Mrs. Douglas might not consider the marriage proposal I was planning in a few years. Every time I played “Lift Every Voice,” there was a lot riding on it.

When I finally started attending public schools, my mother enrolled me at a predominately white school where I was assigned to a homeroom where I was the only black kid in the class. I’d like to explain how the white kids made racist jokes at my expense but, if they did, I didn’t even notice it. In fact, spending time around white people for the first time at ten years old, I learned more about Black people than I learned about white people.

I had not assimilated the subconscious deference to whiteness that often accompanies being Black. I became acutely aware that white people are not smarter or even more educated than any of the kids in my neighborhood. They were perfectly mediocre. They didn’t know how to double-dutch and they didn’t even have a glee club. In music class, the teacher just passed out instruments and let the kids have jam sessions. How were they supposed to acquire their daily recommended dosage of glee? I was a little ashamed of going to school there, so I led all my friends to believe that I was still being homeschooled until they discovered the truth at the annual Holiday Music Showcase.

Every year, all of the schools would get together for a Christmas program to show off their best musicians and singers. The white schools would have violinists, saxophone players and ensembles playing classical music with terrible basslines. As for my predominately glee-less institution, we learned a special super-Caucasian rendition of “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.” I was just thankful that we didn’t have to follow the Negro Mass Choir. They were last on the program.

My white classmates were unmoved as each individual school performed and, with each successive song, I slunk lower in my seat. During Washington Street Elementary’s performance, as they lifted up His name with a perfect a cappella version of “Children Go Where I Send Thee,” a kid sitting behind me whispered:

“Look at all those lips!”

Everyone giggled. I did not.

Our performance was predictably lackluster (probably because I refused to sing). It sounded like an episode of Little House on the Prairie. It sounded like long division. Rudolph’s nose had never been so unremarkable. Had he heard those flat notes wafting through the Center Theater, I’m sure he would have been as ashamed as I was. We trudged back to our seats as the Baddest Glee Club in the Land took the stage for the last performance. Of course, they sang “I Believe in Music.” Accompanied by Mrs. Douglas on piano and my homeboy James on drums, they blew the doors off the place. Even my classmates were impressed because, when they hit one particular a cappella refrain that every Black choir does, my classmates were clapping along. They were off-beat, but they still clapped.

After a rousing round of applause, Mrs. Douglas announced the next song from her piano: “Lift Every Voice.” Of course, all of the Black people in the audience—even the children—stood up. None of the white kids even moved. I was the only person in my entire class who stood.

Mrs. Douglas didn’t play that shit.

She stood up from the piano and glared at the audience as if to say: “You motherfuckers better stand up and show some respect.” I had never seen Mrs. Douglas express anger. And she waited. And the choir waited. She looked. And the choir looked. As she scowled at the audience, Mrs. Douglas saw me standing and smiled. She waved me to the front of the auditorium and whispered in my ear: “You wanna play?”

By the time I sat at the piano and she ascended to the stage to direct the Combined Glee Club, everyone was standing. She looked at me with her usual glance and in one microsecond, my back straightened. My wrists were raised to the perfect 45 degree angle.

And just like that, I was Black.

For the first time since I had read Maya Angelou’s angry words, I was no longer afraid of the song. I don’t know if it was the repetition of playing so many times, or the hand of some unseen thing, but I was suddenly able to play and sing the song simultaneously. And goddamn, did that Combined Glee Club lift their voices. They sang that song.

Our song.

I called Mrs. Douglas today.

I had so many questions. I wanted to ask her why she dragged me around town when I don’t have a sliver of musical talent. I really wanted to know why she made me read that book. I figured she’d tell me something about building my character, giving me a reason to socialize with people my age or how music helps the brain mature. Or maybe she’d make some perfect metaphor about birds in cages.

She did not answer.

I still have a song, though.

We are the song.

[snowdice]

Something Left (Part 1 of the series Is There Anything Left of Patton?)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?)

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Patton(?)

Summary:  Virgil has been living in Logan’s house for 3 months and they get along pretty good. Their abilities seem to balance each other out making them a good team for the apocalyptic world outside their door.

Then he finds the secret in Logan’s basement... He almost wishes that secret was as simple as he first thought it was.

In which I set up a world where Logan is probably crying like 85% of the time.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), Look it’s a zombie AU so you can probably guess why there’s a question mark after everything involving Patton.

Three months. It had been what passed for a normal three months, a good three months even. Especially when compared to the three months before it and even more to the three months before that. Don’t even get him started on the three months before that; those months had been the shittiest months. Those three months had started out with him working at a coffee shop trying to pay rent while look for a better job and ended with him almost dying because he had to jump off a bridge into running water to save himself from a pack of zombies.

These last three months had been good comparatively. This was mostly because he’d been living in Logan’s house for almost the entire time. Logan’s house had actually been his (as far as Virgil could tell) from before. That or he’d bothered to lug cases of old college textbooks with his handwriting scribbled in the margins and boxes of photographs with him in them through the zombie apocalypse.

It was a nice house even now and sat on the outskirts of what used to be a town. Virgil had no idea how he’d managed to hold down the fort during the outbreak or how he’d managed to not get overrun after it. He imagined that the population of the dead in the vicinity of his house was a lot smaller now than it had been at onset, but it was still sizable enough that Virgil had almost gotten eaten while scavenging in a neighboring house. That is how his met Logan.

Virgil had been certain he’d been about to die since he’d just barely been holding back teeth from chomping his face, when a single bullet had gone through the zombie’s head and embedded itself right to the left of Virgil’s own skull. Even just the one gunshot, of course, alerted every mindless carnivore in the area of their location, so they’d scrambled into his house to wait it out.

Virgil had just… not left. He’d never really been invited, but he’d also never been asked to leave so he’d just stayed. He contributed of course. Virgil was pretty good with the little garden out back while Logan seemed to have… whatever the opposite of a green thumb was. He seemed to appreciate Virgil taking it over. Virgil was pretty sure the plants themselves cried in relief.

Despite his lack of skill in the gardening department, Logan was pretty good at things like hunting (managing to only kill the zombie and not also shoot Virgil had not been a lucky shot) and keeping the house structurally sound. They both were okay at scavenging which was much easier with two of them and they worked well together.

Also, Logan was nice to talk to, especially since Virgil had been alone for a long time during the last year. He was a good guy if a bit eccentric. He’d disappear for hours into the maze that was his house and Virgil often found him reading in odd places, but he was chill and smart.

Well.

At least, that’s what Virgil had thought.

“God dammit. You’re one of those people. Fuck.” Virgil said.

“It,” he said standing in his secret, fucking, dead body prison basement, “It isn’t like that.”

“You know, Logan,” Virgil said. “That’s what they all say.” He gestured at the thing in the cage. Even though he knew there was nothing going on in its head, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for it all trussed up like that in the corner, squirming and making horrible sounds behind a gag. “So, what? Huh? Is it someone you think you care about too much to put out of its misery even though it might kill anything it comes into contact with? Are you keeping it for some sort of last-minute defense for your house? Do you do science experiments on it out of some perverted need to know more about them? Tell me, because I’ve honestly run the gambit of crazy assholes in the last year.”

“No,” Logan said. “I…” he sighed. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I don’t understand?” Virgil scoffed. “Why don’t you explain it to me? Why do you have a zombie in the basement of your house. The house I lived in for the past three months without you thinking to tell me about this?”

Logan looked at him for a moment. “Very well.” He grabbed a set of keys on the wall and moved over to the enclosure.

Virgil lunged forward to grab his arm when he moved to put the key in the lock. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Logan didn’t try to pull away from his hold. He just spoke calmly, face neutral. “He is restrained well on the other side of this cell. I will lock the door behind me. You won’t be in danger.”

“You’re fucking nuts,” Virgil spat. “What am I supposed to do. Just stand on the other side of the bars and watch you get ripped to shreds by that thing?”

“I will not get ripped to shreds,” Logan promised. “I’ve been in that cell many times. I know how to deal with him. Please let me explain myself.”

Virgil cursed, but released him. He took a few long steps back while Logan unlocked the cage. His warry eyes went to the creature who was stirring at the noise, but it did seem well restrained. As he had promised, Logan locked the door behind himself.

The thing grew more agitated as Logan approached, straining against its bonds and making sickening noises behind the gag. Logan went to his knees in front of it, a sad smile on his face. “Hello Patton.” Logan reached for the handcuff locks.

“You’re so fucking nuts!” Virgil said, but it did not deter the other man and it was not like Virgil could stop him from the other side of the bars. He didn’t even have the keys if he wanted to enter the cage. When Logan released the thing’s arms, it reached forward, its fingers grazing Logan’s cheeks in a move Virgil recognized. He’d seen people get pulled in with motions like that. Mindless dead fingers grabbed and grabbed, pulling you toward deadly teeth so they could tear you apart. The only thing keeping Logan from being a snack was the gag in the things mouth, but as Virgil watched, he reached up a hand to take that out. From experience, Virgil expected it to lunge directly towards Logan’s neck, but it… but it didn’t.

It continued to reach for him, and the raspy moans got even more haunting without the gag smothering them, but it did not attack. Despite all rational thought, Virgil felt himself draw closer to the bars of the cell to watch. Logan calmly set the gag to the side as though he was not being clawed at by a mindless dead thing and then, he reached up to press the inside of his wrist to the creature’s mouth. “I don’t know why,” Logan said, very much not being bitten. The creature seemed discontented with this new thing covering its mouth and titled its face to get away. “Perhaps it is a different strain of the virus or something went wrong with the turning. Maybe it’s just him. He was a good man in his life. He wouldn’t even let me kill bugs he found in the house. Perhaps there is an echo of that leftover that keeps him from hurting people. Or maybe it’s just me; I wouldn’t risk anyone else to test out if he’d attack another. That’s why I keep him restrained here.”

“I…” Virgil said. “Fuck.”

Logan looked up and Virgil was shocked to see that despite the level tone he’d been using the whole time, there were tears leaking from his eyes. “You can see why I can’t just finish him off though. Even if perhaps I should. I just…” and his voice finally wavered as he gave an aborted sob. The creature reached and reached mindlessly for him, brushing his face again and again with its fingertips. Logan grabbed its hands and held them between his own. “I-I don’t know what you want, dear,” he whispered. The creature wiggled and pulled against the grip. Logan cleared his throat. “Virgil would you perhaps mind sliding me the first aid kit on the table over there?”

Virgil obeyed, grabbing it and sliding it through the bars to him. He took it and opened it with practiced ease. “You’ve hurt yourself again,” Logan said at a volume that made Virgil sure it was not meant for him. “Here, I’ll fix you right up. It’s okay.” There was a minute pause in the sounds it made. A reaction to the words? To the tone of them? Or did it just finally need a breath? Virgil could not be sure. It did not pause in the reaching, and the moaning started full force again right after. Logan rubbed some sort of cream into a mark near the creature’s elbow.

“Does that work?” Virgil asked. Most zombies he’d seen didn’t appear like they ever healed. They were often rotted and limping.

“He’s still living in some sense of the word. He heals if wounds are properly treated and he has enough nutrition. In fact, he seems to heal faster than before.”

Nutrition. “And uh, what do you feed him?”

“Meat. He doesn’t seem to have a preference for cooked or raw. He won’t eat anything else. Well, except for baked potatoes for some reason.”

“Backed potatoes?”

“He won’t eat mashed or fried.”

The creature stopped reaching for Logan in favor of attempted to get at the cream on its skin with its mouth. “No,” Logan scolded. It did not respond. He pushed its head back and picked up bandages to start wrapping the area.

“You know this is crazy, right?” Virgil asked.

“I do, but what do you expect me to do when there is something left of him?”

“I. Fuck,” was Virgil’s response. “Fuck.”

Want to read more? This is now part of a series! Click below for the next part of this story.

Someone You’ll Never Meet

[xmagicxshopx]

Spring Cleaning - Chapter 4

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comedy Rating: PG - M ( future smut ) Warnings: None in this chapter Pairing: personal assistant!jungkook x ceo!reader Notes: AU fic. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This chapter may seem like a filler but I think it’s important for character development since Kook and reader are spending time together and getting to know each other~

Tagging: @deolly​ @katebacks​

Summary: Your mother built you to be a thriving business machine. However, in her old age, she’s growing soft and wants grand kids to spoil. Your home and yard are a mess due to your busy schedule. So your mother attempts to kill two birds with one stone.

MASTERLIST || CH 1 || CH 2 || CH 3 

“Good night, Mr. Jeon.”

“Good night, Miss. Kwon.”

Last night had ended just as the night before. Only......it hadn’t? As he laid there in bed staring at the ceiling but not really seeing it, he let the events of last night play back in his mind’s eyes. You had told him that you were going to call off work tomorrow.....which would mean today. You----The workaholic who literally worked till she dropped, was going to take a day off??? It almost seemed too good to be true. Yet here he was, another morning rolling around and this time.....he wouldn’t have to watch you leave for work at the ass crack of dawn. It was Monday so normally you’d be getting up and getting ready for work.

“She seemed to really like breakfast yesterday. Perhaps I’ll see if she’s up and I can make more for her.”

Changing into a simple over sized t-shirt and some sweats, he made his way out of his room and instantly noticed the smell of coffee filling the house. Hmm......Well he knew that could have only came from one person. You. So it would seem you were already up. Not surprising but hopefully you’d still be somewhere around here and not having lied to him. Now that he had time to process everything, he was genuinely looking forward to you staying home today.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the bottom in nothing flat. Subconsciously ruffling and fluffing his shaggy long locks, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw not only you sitting at the dining table sipping on coffee, but your mother too. Well dang.

“Jungkookieeee! Darling! It’s so good to see you! Come! Have some coffee with us!”

While he had managed to keep professional eye contact with your mother, he was pretty sure he could see you visibly cringe out of the corner of his eye and he couldn’t help but internally snicker. Your mother was quite......obvious with her intentions still despite everything. However, he offered a warm and friendly smile before saying casually in a light and happy tone,

“I’d love to, Mrs. Kwon. Thank you.”

Of course she motioned for him to sit next to you and who was he to defy your mother??? Trying to keep a straight face and not grin like a moron, he took the seat next to you and decided to sneak a glance your way. You seemed to be texting someone at a rate that not even he could keep up with. If the look of deep concentration was anything to go by, he decided it was best not to say anything to you till you were done.

“How do you like your coffee, my dear?”

“Oh just black is fine, Mrs. Kwon.”

“Ugh. Gross. You’re just like my daughter. You two need more sweetness in your lives. Some sugar and cream. Lots of cream.”

Thank god he hadn’t actually took a drink from his mug yet or else he would have choked just as he nearly had on the noodle from his soup last night. What was it with these Kwon women??? Always full of surprises it would seem. After cautiously taking a sip of his coffee, he glanced over to see what your reaction had been but you simply kept typing furiously away on your phone.

“So what brings you over so early in the morning, Mrs. Kwon? Is everything alright?”

“Oh I just happened to get a frantic text from my poor Jiminnie this morning. Something about how my daughter might be in trouble because she was calling off work today. So I rushed right over.”

However, the tone that your mother spoke in was anything but worried. In fact, her voice just happened to be dripping in amusement. Something that the male instantly caught on to. Taking another sip of his coffee, he noticed you grumbling as you finally put your phone down. Goodness. Weren’t your thumbs about to fall off?

“I still don’t think it’s that big of a shock. I’m taking a day away from the office. So what???”

The table grew silent while you huffed and took a sip of your now stone cold coffee. Oh well. That was okay. It would be cold like your soul as you thought to yourself. Even though your mother liked to pick on you, even she knew now wasn’t a good moment to poke fun at your statement. While Jungkook hadn’t known you for very long, less than a week in fact, he knew enough not to comment either. It was then that your mother decided to break the tense silence as she cleared her throat and asked casually,

“So what are the plans for today, my darlings?”

That was a good question. What were your plans??? Now that you weren’t sitting there texting Jimin an entire playbook on how to run a company for just. one. day., you finally had some time to think about what you wanted to do with this time away from the office. The growling of your stomach gave you the first idea.

Grocery shopping. Ah yes. You were supposed to do that with Jungkook sometime soon. So that way he could fix food he knew you would actually like instead of just guessing. Hearing a soft chuckle over next to you, you glanced over to see Jungkook smiling to himself in amusement and delight as he silently got up from his chair before padding over to the kitchen and announcing happily,

“Mrs. Kwon, you should stay for breakfast. My treat.”

“Why thank you, dear! Mr. Jeon has quite the manners. Doesn’t he, sweetheart?”

“Absolutely selfless, he is.”

Your tone was one of a deadpanned as you silently grumbled while sipping on your ice cold coffee. You could practically feel the male snickering behind you while he shared a look of amusement with your mother. Two against one. How unfair. While Jungkook went about fixing breakfast for the three of you, your mother pipped up about how it would be a good idea to start making a list of all the groceries you’d need.

It kind of reminded you of the days where she was training you to be her successor. The one to take her place in the company that she had held so dearly once upon a time. But now it was almost like your mother was teaching you how to be a normal human being again. Honestly, it wasn’t far from the truth. You didn’t know it, but your mother felt incredibly guilty for having turned you into such a workaholic. A soul who was alive but not actually living.

As he stood there in the adjoining kitchen cutting up peppers to put in the fried potatoes, he couldn’t help but watch you and your mother at the dining table. It all felt so.......domestic? The real question was.....how did that make him feel? The initial feeling was that he liked it. But should he? This was supposed to be a job and a job only for him. Cooking, cleaning, being your personal assistant so that you could focus on your company and not have to worry about life at home so much.

So then why did it feel like he was fixing breakfast for his girlfriend and his potential mother-in-law???

Shaking his head a bit to clear it, he continued working on breakfast and decided to listen in on your conversation. Perhaps focusing on tasks such as grocery shopping would help distract him from these odd thoughts and feelings that were bubbling inside his chest and confusing his brain.

It seemed like in no time at all, a western omelet fit for royalty had been placed on three plates as well as Jungkook coming up with his own little healthy touch of fruit salad as a small side dish for each of them as they all three sat at the dining table. But not before the male had kindly offered to refill their coffee mugs. Needless to say, your mother was glowing while you were brooding.

“My my my. I’m going to have to come over for breakfast more often! I could get used to this!”

“You want him? You can have him.”

Having quickly become used to your sour humor, your words didn’t phase Jungkook a bit. As for your mother, however, she still lightly scolded you for being so rude to someone who had just slaved over a hot stove to make you breakfast. If your mother only knew. Jungkook thrived in the kitchen and being a slave was the last thing he felt like right now.

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Kwon. I take no offense to it. Please do enjoy your breakfast before it gets cold.”

Wow. When your mother was all feather ruffled and huffy and puffy......it made the two of you look so much alike. There was no denying that you two were blood related. In that moment, Jungkook learned that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. It was actually kind of cute, really. Thankfully, your mother took his encouraging words and ran with it as she finally took the first bite of the best omelet she had ever had.

Aside from the occasional bickering between you and your mother, breakfast was actually quite lovely. If it hadn’t been for looking over the grocery list the two of you had made up, Jungkook would have started feeling all domestic again and that wasn’t what he needed right now. He needed to stay focused on his job and be just your personal assistant. Nothing more and nothing less.

‘Stay focused, Jeon.’

Once breakfast was over and Mrs. Kwon insisted on helping load the dishwasher, you had made the announcement that you’d be heading upstairs to shower before accompanying your assistant to the grocery store. Both your mother and said assistant simply nodded with smiles that were nearly identical in mischief. This only caused you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at them before huffing and heading upstairs. Still not fair.

“You know, Jungkookie, there’s a carnival in town this week. Perhaps you and my daughter might wish to go?”

Dang. Your mother wasn’t going to make his latest internal struggle any easier, was she? At first, he really hadn’t minded her obvious attempts at match making. However, now that he was starting to feel these odd domestic type feelings, it was becoming much more difficult to shrug them off as just all-in-good-fun teasing.

“A carnival sounds like a lot of fun, Mrs. Kwon. Would you like to join in if we go?”

There. Maybe if he could try to turn the tables a bit, it might make him feel a little less self-conscious. While he appreciated your mother’s enthusiasm and confidence in his ability to please you, Jungkook was in no shape to be someone’s love interest. For several reasons. Reasons that he really didn’t care to think about right now.

“Oh my no. I wouldn’t want to intrude. But I think my daughter needs to get out more and she seems to listen to you better than she does me. So perhaps you could convince her to go, hmm?”

Well that didn’t work. At all. He should have known better, honestly, but it had been worth a shot. After assuring the woman that he would at least try to run the idea by you, that seemed to be enough to satisfy her and she proceeded to insist that she could handle the dishes if he too wanted to wash up before heading to the grocery store.

With that, he nodded and headed up the stairs to take a quick shower and make himself decent for the task at hand. While in the shower, it felt anything but quick as he got lost in thoughts. Thoughts of you and your mother and how he felt about having breakfast with the two of you. It was nice. Really nice. But he was probably just overthinking it. He had a tendency to do that with things that confused him.

After getting all washed up and towel drying his shaggy mop of hair, he then proceeded to comb and dry said mop. Honestly, he felt he looked more mature with long hair but dang was it a hassle to take care of. Once his dark locks were perfectly quaffed, he dressed in a light yellow button up shirt tucked into a pair of ripped skinny jeans.

There we go. Not too dressy but not too casual. Spritzing on some cologne his father got him for his birthday last year, he checked himself in the mirror one more time before determining he looked good and professional. He could only imagine how his best friend from Busan Jimin felt. Having to wear a monkey suit day in and day out being your real assistant.

If only you knew that him and Jimin knew each other. That your personal assistant and company assistant were childhood best friends from Busan. For some reason, he just didn’t have the desire to tell you yet. That was something else he couldn’t quite explain. Why exactly did he want to keep it a secret? What did he have to gain by keeping the information from you? There he goes again, thinking way too much.

‘Get your butt out there, Jeon. They’re probably waiting on you.’

After giving himself a small pep talk in the bathroom mirror to just act natural and that he’s on business as your personal assistant, he took one last deep breath and exhaled slowly before bracing himself and heading out of his room to truck downstairs. He could do this. He could do this. This is a business trip to stock your home with food that he will eventually cook for you. Just business. Just busin----

Wow.

He was beginning to think he was going to be the next poor sap stuck in a monkey suit if this was how you always dressed to go grocery shopping.

Pointed toed heels that looked more like weapons rather than footwear. And dang did you look dangerous in that pantsuit. Keeping it classic. Black. Pitch black. Not to mention how it hugged your body in all the right ways. For a woman who either didn’t eat at all or ate nothing but take-out, you still had a gorgeous figure. Or maybe he was just biased???

Your hair was pulled back in what appeared to be the most tight knit bun he had ever seen. In fact, just looking at it was giving him a headache. Maybe if you didn’t have your hair up so tightly all the time, you wouldn’t be so grumpy. But he wasn’t about to tell you that. He’d like to keep all his body parts attached, thanks. Seriously......those heels could poke someone’s eye out.

“You ready to head out, Mr. Jeon? Mother has offered to watch the place while we’re out.”

“Absolutely, Miss. Kwon.”

“You two enjoy the shopping trip and I’ll just be here monitoring the dishwasher and maybe dust here and there a bit. I’ll make sure Jimin holds down the fort at the company as well. Just go and enjoy yourselves!”

Well.....as enjoyable as grocery shopping could be, anyhow. With an obvious eye roll, you simply snapped your fingers and started moving to the door, heels making clacking sounds loud enough to wake the dead. Given the fact that your floors switched back and forth between hardwood and marble. God didn’t your feet hurt in those things??? Weren’t your toes squished???

It was when the two of you finally got outside and was swinging by the garage that he realized it had never been discussed who’s vehicle they’d be taking. But judging from your confident steps towards your sleek black Hyundai Palisade, it would appear that you were driving. He shouldn’t have been surprised, honestly. It made perfect sense. With his truck, he didn’t have much space in the backseats and he highly doubted the bed of a truck was sanitary for food to be packed into.

You had already climbed into the driver’s seat by the time he got to the passenger side. He was no psychologist, but from the short amount of time he had spent with you thus far, he could tell one thing.......You liked being in control. Of everything. Wordlessly climbing into the passenger seat, he got himself buckled in and watched you start the vehicle before the two of you were finally out of the garage and on your way to the grocery store.

“Okay. The job is simple. We get the list out, buy everything on the list, pay for it, and get out of here.”

Jungkook expected nothing less from you so he simply smiled and gave you a thumbs up before climbing out of the car. The ride to the store had been silent as the grave and he wasn’t about to ruin that. It was an odd peaceful kind of silence even if he could feel your mild agitation radiating from you in the driver’s seat. If this had truly been your first day off from the company in---like---ever, then he could understand how tense you might be feeling. You probably felt like a new mother letting go of her new born baby for the first time since giving birth.

Walking into the store, you immediately pulled your phone out to bring up your electronic list. While you did that, Jungkook took it upon himself to be your assistant and took a disinfectant wipe from the public dispenser and cleaned down the bar handle of one of the carts from the docking area. With list ready and a cart set to go, the two of you made your way to the first section of the store. The fruits and vegetables.

So far so good. You were being very cooperative and well-behaved during the whole trip. A nice change from the first time the two of you went to the store together. Perhaps because you were working. You actually had a task that you needed to complete. Again, Jungkook was no psychologist, but he was pretty sure if you weren’t working, you just simply didn’t know how to act. Which was kind of, sort of, really sad.

“Okay so we’ve taken care of the fruits, vegetables, meats. Now what?”

“Well if we’re going to have stir fry one night this week, we’re going to need some rice. Let’s head there next.”

There he goes again. That feeling bubbling up in his chest again and filling his stomach with butterflies. Dang it. He had been doing so good too. But watching you retrieve items here and there, sometimes needing his help because the items were too high up, it all felt so.......domestic. That word just kept floating around in his head. It felt like the two of you had decided to go to the grocery store after work. Discussing dinners ahead of time and all that. Gah he was going to go insane!

You, on the other hand, were having a hard time focusing but for other reasons. Your assistant was dressed quite nicely today despite the lack of professionalism. While you approved of the yellow button up, the skinny jeans were a bit too casual for your liking. Or maybe you just didn’t like how well they hugged his thighs? Nah. It was just too casual for you. Yeah. That was it. That had to be the reason. Maybe next time you’d make a comment about dressing more appropriately for the job. But today you’d let it slide.

He smelled really nice too. You briefly wondered what cologne he uses when you realized that you couldn’t reach a box of pasta for Italian Nights. Without even having to ask, you could feel a huge warm body coming up behind you that smelled just like your assistant. Sure enough, Jungkook extended his long arm and easily plucked the box of pasta from the shelf before flashing you a bright bunny-like smile and handing it over to you.

“Here you are, Miss. Kwon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon. I appreciate it. Now you know one of the reasons why I don’t go grocery shopping in the first place.”

Wow. Did you just crack a joke??? He was pretty sure you did. Or at least tried to. Smiling and feeling more at ease knowing that you were starting to ease up a bit, he continued to push the cart that only kept getting heavier and heavier as the two of you walked down the aisles. The rest of the trip went mostly in silence aside from the small discussion of price comparing here and the task of picking out the least beaten up box there.

It seemed like in no time at all, the two of you were heading up to the register and placing the items down for scanning and payment. This process too went mostly in silence but, again, it was peaceful. An unspoken agreement that there didn’t need to be words exchanged in order to check out their groceries. This was a job, after all. He needed to stay professional.

Thank goodness you had brought your vehicle instead of his because he wasn’t sure if even the bed of his truck would have held all these groceries. After Jungkook insisting that he do all the packing and storing into the vehicle, being that he was your assistant and all, you took this opportunity to send a quick text to Jimin asking him how things were going before shooting your mother a text informing her that the two of you were on your way home now.

“I think that was a very successful trip, don’t you think, Miss. Kwon?”

“It wasn’t as bad as I had initially thought it would be. Although I don’t remember groceries being so pricey. Then again.....it has been awhile.”

While you spoke in your professional tone, it still made him smile to hear you yet again trying to poke fun at your own self. You were lightening up. Even if only just a little. Progress was progress no matter how small. That’s how he looked at it. With the both of you in the vehicle once more with the back plum full of food, you put it in gear and started the trip back home.

“Thank you for helping me with the groceries, Mr. Jeon. I feel our next task should be shopping for items such as cleaning supplies and toiletries. Not just for myself, but for you as well. My home is your home now.”

Dang. Maybe there was something in that chicken soup he made last night that he didn’t know about. Or maybe all you needed was some real sleep and rest in order to feel a little bit better and a little less moody. Not only did you just thank him, but you said your home was his home. You were certainly giving him whiplash with your crazy mood swings.

“And after that, we should focus on the grounds of the estate. Compile that list of tools and equipment you’ll need and we will make another trip out.”

“Will that trip be today, Miss. Kwon? Don’t forget, we need to eat lunch soon.”

“Probably not today. We’ll run out of time. Because this afternoon, after lunch, we’ll make a run to the store for items such as the cleaning supplies and any toiletries I’ve failed to stock up on. But again, we’re shopping for you too. So purchase anything you need while we’re there. It won’t come out of your paycheck so don’t worry about that.”

“Thank you for your kindness and generosity, Miss. Kwon. I greatly appreciate it. I will do my very best to make this arrangement worth your time and money.”

While you knew what the poor man was referring to, it still sent your mind straight to the gutter. Trying not to snicker or, rather, trying not to snicker too noticeably, you found yourself finally pulling into the driveway of your huge estate and pressing the button that would open the garage door. Once the car was parked, you turned it off and sported a smug smile while taking your seat belt off as you said casually yet teasingly,

“Be careful, Mr. Jeon. Anyone who didn’t know any better might think your intentions are anything but pure.”

At first he didn’t get it. Those doe eyes of his blinking at you in confusion as you smirked and got out of the vehicle, but not before popping the trunk and unlocking all the doors and heading inside the house. Anything but pure??? Why would you say that? It almost sounded like you were trying to say he was.......OH!! Instantly, he could feel the heat sprout all over his face and down his neck and even to the tips of his ears. It spread like a wildfire as he quickly climbed out of the passenger seat.

He would never do that to you! Never ever! He was a good man! Suddenly needing to pop the top button of his yellow dress shirt, the poor boy managed to resist as he tried his very best to focus on the task at hand which was to pack the groceries into the house. Oh god! Your mother was in there!

‘Heavenly Father, please give me the strength to deal with these Kwon women!’

After saying the quick prayer and doing his very best to calm himself down, he cleared his throat and began taking bags into both of his arms. Given his muscular physique, it was super easy for him to pack several bags on both arms. Unbeknownst to him, he was getting payback as you came back around the corner of the garage to help him.

Muscles. Lots and lots of muscles. Bulging muscles. You had to stop yourself right on the spot as you had just came from informing your mother that the two of you were back from the shopping trip and would need some help packing the groceries in. First of all, you weren’t quite sure why you felt the need to help since it was Jungkook’s job as your assistant to do this stuff and he would normally be doing all of this by himself anyway while you were at work.

Secondly, why were you still standing there eyeing him up like a piece of meat??? Perhaps it was because of the.......dry spell.....you had found yourself in recently. Yeah. That was probably it. You were just horny. Sexually frustrated. Yeah. That was it. Pulling yourself together just in time for Jungkook to turn around, you managed to plaster that confident smirk from earlier back on your face as you gave him a curt nod only to watch his face flush pink all over again.

“Oh my, Jungkookie! You look flushed! And no wonder from packing all those bags. Here. Let me help you.”

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Kwon. I got this. But if it wouldn’t be too much to ask, may I have a bottle of water?”

“Absolutely, my dear boy! Anything for you!”

The male was grateful that your mother was so easily distracted. Not to mention he could really use that bottle of water right now. He needed something to cool himself down. That smirk you had worn was just a little too much for him right now. He was still rather flustered over your teasing words from earlier.

It wasn’t that Jungkook was innocent. He wasn’t a virgin, that’s for sure. But......that topic was just......different for him? He was the type of guy who wanted to find his beautiful princess and turn her into a queen. He wanted to love her and cherish her. Settle down and start a family with her. It wasn’t sex to him. It was making love. So perhaps that’s why he was so taken aback by your crude words. Because that’s not who he was. Again----He was a good man.

“Here you go, my dear. Take a moment and just relax. Sip on some water and I’ll take these into the kitchen.”

“No no, Mrs. Kwon. This is my job as your daughter’s assistant. I just needed something to help with the spring heat is all.”

“Nonsense. I may be up there in years but I’m not crippled yet.”

Knowing it was no use to fight with a Kwon woman, he simply uncapped the bottle of water and let the ice cold liquid run down his throat. There. That was better. He just needed to cool off a bit and it would help him focus a bit better. With the cold water running through his heated bloodstream, he set the bottle down on the foyer table and went back out to help pack in more groceries.

With the three of you working together, all the groceries were now packed into the kitchen and all that needed to be done was putting them away in appropriate cabinets and such. Jungkook insisted he be the one to do that while you and your mother decide on what you want for lunch. This way you were stuck with your mother and couldn’t tease him any further. At least for a little bit.

After deciding on barbecued pulled pork and a side salad, Jungkook quickly went to work in his favorite habitat. The kitchen. While he allowed the pork to cook, he had taken time to make a fresh pitcher of lemonade. Fresh as in fresh fresh. No powdery packets or any of that imitation stuff you can buy in the store in the water enhancement aisle. No. He was taking real lemons and squeezing them into a pitcher of heaven.

Filling three cups up full of ice and lemonade, he set two of them for you and your mother on the dining table where you were currently trying to calm down a frantic Jimin as he practically screeched in panic through your cell phone. He might as well have been on speaker, honestly. Sighing heavily, you excused yourself from the dining and connecting kitchen area to go up to your office where you could have a proper conference call with your frazzled assistant. Seriously. It was one day! One day!

“Jungkookie, darling, could you have a seat with me, please?”

Oh boy....

How did this keep happening to him???

“Sure thing, Mrs. Kwon. Let me just check on the pork really quick.”

Trying to buy himself all of an extra few seconds to brace himself, the male actually did check the meat and it was coming along nicely. With nothing else to help him worm his way out of this conversation, he tried to act cool and calm on the outside as he took a seat at the table next to your mother.

“First of all, the lemonade is wonderful.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kwon. I felt it was appropriate for spring time.”

“Indeed indeed. However, that’s not what I wish to talk to you about.”

He figured as much. And rather than saying it out loud, he remained silent as he waited for the older woman to speak once more. Although Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how her face was suddenly etched with lines of sadness and guilt. She turned in her seat so that she could face him more and he did the same out of respect. Clearly something was bothering your mother.

“I know I don’t make my intentions very secretive. But you have to understand, Kookie. I’ve destroyed my own daughter and I need to put her back together. It’s my fault she’s like this and I need to right this wrong I’ve done.”

“Mrs. Kwon, with all due respect, your daughter is her own person who makes her own decisions. You didn’t do anything to her. She’s chosen to be this way.”

His heart was hammering in his chest as he realized this conversation was taking quite the deep turn. This definitely wasn’t the conversation he was expecting to have given his previous exchanges with your mother. The woman in front of him now was torn with sadness and misery. It broke his heart to see someone as sweet as your mother feeling so sad like this.

“But it is my fault, Kookie. I trained her to be this way because that’s how I was back in the day. But now that I’m getting older and I’ve slowed down.....I realize now how important it is to stop and smell the roses. That life isn’t entirely about work. I did that to her. I treated her like a robot to be programmed a certain way and now my little girl is gone.”

Oh boy. Now your mother was starting to cry. Oh boy. Okay. He could do this. He could handle this. Trying to stay calm for her on the outside, he got up from his seat and briskly went into the living room where he found a box of tissues and came back only to offer one and set the box on the table while he took his seat once more. Gently rubbing the woman’s back, he spoke softly,

“Mrs. Kwon. You were only doing what you thought was best for your company at the time. But things change. People change. Perhaps your daughter enjoys being busy with the company?”

“But she’s not living, Kookie. She’s alive but she’s not living. She just goes through the motions like the robot I turned her into. She doesn’t get out and socialize. She doesn’t treat herself to anything nice. She’s breathing but that’s all she’s doing.”

Suddenly, the woman took both of his hands in hers and she sniffled a little before putting her full attention back on the male. Good lord he hated to see women cry. Especially women as sweet as your mother. He could feel a lump forming in his throat as he gently gripped her hands while he waited for her to say something.

“I need you to help her, Jungkook. I know it’s selfish of me but I need your help. When Jimin reached out to me and told me about you, I knew you were the one who was going to bring my daughter back to me. And maybe......”

He felt his eyebrows knit together in confusion as he listened to this new round of information. Jimin had been behind this??? Wait.......oh.......Okay. Now it made sense. Your mother was looking out for you......while his best friend was looking out for him.

“And just maybe.......you can heal too.”

Meanwhile, you stood there at the bottom of the stairs with your back against the wall listening in. But all you got to hear was that your assistant needed healing. What did that mean? Was he sick? Did he need this job to help pay medical bills?

‘What’s your story, Mr. Jeon Jungkook?’

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes, #32

Hello, Lovies. How have you been? I’ve been well. The new laptop gets in later today and I hope to be writing more and perhaps next  month we may even see a one shot come into existence! 

I’ve gotten a slight rash of new followers, some of whom are minors. Unlike some, I do not ban minors from my blog however, I do clearly mark any content that they should avoid. As a general reminder, please always check the content warnings, found at the start of every fic and every chapter.  I am an adult of nearly 30 years, I write adult topics and themes.

Chapter warnings: Blood, death.

Series warnings: Smut, blood, graphic death, sexual assault, child death, miscarriage, dead babies- look, if it can be a trigger, it’s in here. 

Masterlist  Kofi  AO3

Chapter 32: What If?

Clint relished the silence in the truck for a few moments as he backed along the gravel driveway. The weeds and grass would encroach on it come spring but for now, it was a mix of ice and gravel mixed with snow. The tracks from his truck were the only ones and if they were lucky, that would remain the case. 

Spring would be upon them before they knew it. In much of the country, frozen bodies would begin to rot and a wave of sickness would spread. He wondered how many clusters of people were smart enough to take advantage of the cold to remove bodies. 

Not nearly enough, he was sure. No one wants to look at the dead, let alone touch them. Hell, he didn’t want to either. But when it needed to get done, it needed to get done. The sickness would kill many more if the dead were allowed to rot in the cities. It would be far better to be in a rural town during the warm months. 

How many more people will have died between now and spring? Food stores were likely low in most places by now. He knew he was having to travel farther and farther to find processed and packaged foods, giving proof to that fact. How many would starve to death this winter? So many would due to not knowing how to cook without the processed ingredients or how to store raw foods without a refrigerator. How many would eat toxic or spoiled food, not knowing how to tell what was safe to eat? How many wouldn’t know how to turn flour and yeast into bread? 

Those thousands were not his problem. His problem was limited to three other people and a baby. Shaking his head, he banished thoughts of infant formula away. It was a worry for another day. With enough food and Sasha’s help, Rachel would at least be able to supplement the formula with her own milk. Lizzy just needed to make it four or five more months. 

When he reached the open road, he stopped and waited. He sat there with his thoughts for half an hour and watched for any signs of life. There was no smoke from what could be other fireplaces. There were no other signs of people. It was exactly what Clint wanted to see. 

Finally, when he was sure enough that there was no one around, he pulled onto the old highway. It’d been mostly abandoned in the last ten years when a new interstate had routed near but the locals had still favored it. He had still favored it. 

Now, he was thankful for the interstate. Most migrating people would follow the interstates with their wide lanes, direct routes and clear signs. It would keep them away from his little hole in the country. 

Turning on the radio as he went, he hit the scan button. The radio searched through the airwaves, trying to find a signal. When it found none, he repeated the process with the AM frequencies. There was the same emergency broadcast, going in and out. It was weaker now. Clint was sure the emergency generator was finally giving out. 

As he pulled up to the gate, he thought about calling Nat. He thought about telling her what they did, that King Jacob was dead. He thought about telling her the things running through his mind. For a moment, he even picked up the satellite phone from where it had sat forgotten in the cup holder. He thought about asking her to come out, to pick him and Dee up and take them to New York.

Fingers dialed the number as he pulled up the hill. His thumb hovered over the button with the green phone. He only had to press it. 

His eyes looked up from the phone as he rolled to a stop in front of the house. He could see the motorhome and the chickens. He could see the shed that doubled as a year around grow room. He saw their life and instead of hitting the call button, he flipped the phone over. 

Without bothering to power it down, he pulled the back off and removed the battery before breaking the old style flip phone in two. He tossed the parts into the back of the truck when he got out. 

He couldn’t be like them. He couldn’t support people like King Jacob and King Mason being given power after they had hurt so many. He couldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow it. 

As he fed the chickens and gave their coop and pen a quick clean, he wondered if that was what Dee had been dancing around. Would she go with him, if he set out to remove another abusive self named king from power? Would she think he was just a vengeful killer? Was he just a vengeful killer?

There were a good number of eggs in the coop and Clint was thankful for them. They were laying and earning their keep. Feeding chickens food scraps and getting eggs in return was far better than eating the chickens. He left a handful of eggs in the nests. If they were lucky, they would hatch. He picked up older eggs, saved for the same reason and marked with a black dot. Using the light of the sun, he checked them for signs of development and life. Inside, there was a shadow of something growing. Later, he would come out with a flashlight and look properly but that was good enough for now. 

The rooster Tony eyed him with disgust. Clint flipped the bird off as he walked into the house. The damned bird should be thankful he wasn't turned into fried chicken yet. Clint was all for using the male to breed the females and have enough chicken and eggs to eat some of both. There was only one rooster though and he worried about genetics. He'd have to eventually worry about finding someone else with chickens to trade and diversify the genetics.

In a cabinet above the refrigerator, he pulled down an empty egg carton and filled it. Laura had always talked about getting chickens when he had finished his countless projects to improve the house. She gathered cartons to remind him or annoy him, he wasn’t sure which. He never did finish the house for her. Even now, it was unfinished. Now there were chickens. 

From the deep freezer he grabbed bags of meat. Deer and turkey, mostly whole cuts though he had ground some scraps up. He didn’t pull much out- if it spoiled he didn’t want much to waste. He dropped the bags into a cooler he had partially filled with snow and ice.

He hoped that would work, if kept outside and in the shade, to keep the foods frozen and good for the winter. There was always the question of the weather. This winter had been different than he had seen in the ten years he’d owned the land.

Somehow, it was both colder and harsher than what was normal but it was also warmer. There was a layer of melted snow and ice sandwiched between snowfalls. More often than not, the sky was full of heavy dark clouds. He wondered how long it would take for the ash and dust to truly settle. 

He loaded up a box with bags of dried pasta and canned vegetables and fruit. On top, he set onions, a few potatoes and a handful of squash. He filled another box with apples, cans of pie filling and tossed on a few cook books. He filled large gallon bags with flour and sugar from their stores. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. After putting everything in the bed of the truck and securing it, he made his way to the shed turned greenhouse. 

The plants inside looked to have been growing well. He had put the lights on a timer before they had left on the off chance that they’d be gone for more than a night. The fact that he had managed to convert the shed into a functional greenhouse was something he was proud of. 

Trees grew in large pots, waiting for spring when he would plant them outside. A few small buds grew on the branches of a few citrus trees. He fingered them as he passed. They hadn’t expected any fruit from the trees for at least a year. These buds would likely grow into fruits too small to eat, if they matured at all. 

Moving down the aisles, he pulled his knife from it’s sheath at his thigh. The tomatoes had grown well in the greenhouse and the vines of little cherry sized fruit were heavy and bright red. He slipped three of the vines into the box. There were a few zucchini. He hesitated for a bit before snagging two of the vegetables to add to the box. 

They were not thriving in the makeshift greenhouse. He knew once spring came and he transplanted them outside, it would be a completely different story. By summer they would have more zucchini than they would ever want to eat. That would be the case for many of the vegetables. Luckily, they would keep well enough in the cellar.

They would freeze or can much of the excess for the next winter. If they were lucky, next winter they wouldn’t have to fear where they would get their next meal. There was another reason he planted more than they needed was for trading. He held very little  hope that nationwide supply systems would be functional by then.

There were many who would be suffering from lack of food this winter. Clint strived to make sure that they were not among them. They would have food- sure there would be an overabundance of some things and they’d get tired of eating the same foods but they would not be hungry. 

Still, he knew their supplies were thin when accounting for supplying Sasha through the winter. There was no doubt that to supply Rachel and Lizzy it would eat into their supplies. Clint would have to spend more time hunting to supplement what they were growing. Worse yet, he knew he would have to travel farther and farther each time he went out for supplies. 

Clint picked a few handfuls of strawberries and called that a day. Sure, there was more ready for harvest. There was food stored in the cellar and pantry but it wasn’t enough. If he had to pick between him and Dee starving or Rachel, Sasha and Lizzy starving, he would choose to keep his food. 

He loaded up the back of the truck before pulling himself into the driver’s seat. Rather than start the engine, he sat there thinking with his eyes on the barn. His thoughts swam. The desire to help someone warred with his desire to put himself and the woman he loved first. 

He grumbled. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Finally, he rolled his eyes and signed. Opening the door, he slipped back out of the truck and stomped back to the barn. There was no one to witness his tantrum but that did nothing to stop him from throwing one.

He grabbed a large potted cherry tomato plant. The branches and stems slapped him in the face. While he carried it to the truck, all he could think about was how much the plant stank. He was never a fan of the smell of tomato plants. He slipped it into the floor space behind the passenger seat.

He went back to the barn and grabbed potted lettuce plants and berries as well. Whether Sasha had a green thumb or not, he didn’t know but at least they would have some sort of food growing. It wouldn’t be enough to support them. They wouldn’t be able to survive off lettuce, tomatoes and berries alone if he wasn’t able to supplement their supplies but it was something. 

The engine roared to life as Clint decided enough was enough. He turned around in the drive and made his way down the dirt road. The gate rolled open as he approached, mindful all the while of the pots sitting behind him. 

The first veterinary office he checked had the windows broken out. It was in a small town not too far from the farmhouse. There were days he’d woken up in this town, having spent the night prior in a delirious hunt for his wife and children. It had been a long time since he had visited this town.

Closing his eyes, he took a moment to be thankful that he hadn’t woken up like that since Dee joined him. She saved him from the memories and longing. She saved him as much as he had saved her. 

There were a few people who still lived in this little town, though they hid whenever he had been there. Part of him wondered what he had done in the night, lost in a delirium looking for those who he had failed. It must have been terrible, for them to hide from him. Still, he didn't mind that none came to greet him or question him. He would rather less people crawl out of the woodwork and expect him to help them. 

Glass crunched under his feet as he stepped over the broken window. Ice and snow covered the ground, obscuring the razor shards hidden in seemingly innocent ice. Slipping and falling here would easily be fatal. Judging by the dried or frozen blood pooled by the window, it already may have been for someone. Looking over to the left, Clint saw the man.

He must have been the one to break the windows in. Dead eyes gazed back at Clint. He didn’t look away from the sight. Frost had touched the man’s fingers and face. Ice and snow gathered over his legs, giving away the fact that he had been there for a while. The dim light of the setting sun flooded in through the broken window. He could see the trail of blood. Around his arm was a bandage, not wrapped nearly tight enough to slow the flow of blood and save the man's life. 

He retraced the man’s footsteps. Heavy boots thudded on the tile floor next to the dark trail. Clint followed it through the lobby. It smeared along the reception desk in dark stains and over scattered papers. On the floor was a first aid kit. The plastic was broken, shards of artificial red on the ground. 

That was where the man had gotten the bandage he had used to try and wrap his wounds. It wasn’t enough. Rolls of bandage littered the ground. He would have needed every one of them to have anything like a chance. Judging by the trail of blood, nothing would have been good enough other than a doctor though. The fact that he had made it as far as he did was impressive. Humans were always one of the most impressive beasts.

On the wall next to the reception desk there was a display of colorful plastic cones. Clint was sure they were the ‘deluxe’ cones the receptionists would try to up-sell. When his own dogs needed a cone, he always went with the cheap clear or white ones. The cone never stayed on long enough anyway. There was no way in hell he was going to shell out $30 for something that wouldn’t be on for even half the recommended time. 

He grabbed a handful of the large ones. There was no reason not to give Trust a deluxe cone experience. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his old dogs would have been more willing to wear one if he splurged the extra money for the nice ones. It was too late to know, the dogs had all died of old age. The one that remained turned to dust along with everyone else he had loved. 

The door into the treatment area was closed. Clint tried the knob, expecting to find it locked. The knob turned under his hand without the slightest resistance. 

“This is too easy.” He mumbled to himself, looking over his shoulder at the dead body. “Watch my truck, will ya? I should have done this first....” 

The last thing he wanted was to find the truck stripped of supplies when he came back out. He took a deep breath. His boots echoed on the tile floors as he made his way through the dark halls. A few dim lights shone, allowing him to see his way. The emergency power had to have been almost gone by now. 

Under one of the large procedure tables, there was an emergency bag. The bright red gave it away. He wasted no time in reaching down, plucking it up and setting it on the table. Inside, Clint found a flashlight but little else was useful. He pocketed the travel sized packets of pain medication and alcohol wipes, leaving the rest to someone in more need. 

Dust danced in the air as the beam shed light on the space. He listened for a moment, making sure he was alone. There was nothing but silence in the clinic. It didn’t sound like there was anyone messing with the truck either. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to pick up the pace. 

He skimmed bookshelves in offices, looking for any books that could double as ‘Veterinary Medicine for Dummies’. When he didn’t find one, he left the office. It wouldn’t do to waste time looking for books. Sasha was a nurse and would have to trust herself. 

He checked cabinets, breaking open doors when he encountered locks. It was a vet’s office, not a doctors or pharmacist and so the locks reflected that. The doors and locks both were weaker. No one expected someone to hit up a veterinary office looking for pain meds. 

Looking around, Clint found a grocery bag in a trashcan. It looked clean enough. Without giving it much thought, he dumped veils of medication into it. Some were in boxes, some not. Clint assumed the boxes had the drug information inside. If not, he wasn’t going to hunt for it.

When he checked the cabinets and emptied what he thought he could use, he grabbed the bag full of medications and made his way out. On his way, he reached down and snagged the emergency bag. No point in leaving something useful behind because he didn’t have an immediate need for it. 

Through the broken glass, he could see the truck looking just like he left it. There was no one else around, from what he could see. Having his eyes on the truck full of supplies was a relief. He allowed himself to relax just a bit. 

When he stepped through the window, there was a scream. Clint, in reflex he dropped the bags and screamed for a split second. While his throat tightened and cut his voice off after a fraction of a second. He reached out to the source of the surprise and grabbed them. While he intended to pin them against the way, he hadn’t intended to do so with so much force. 

His foot had slipped on the ice, carrying them both forward. The boy’s teeth crashed together with the force as he hit the wall. Clint caught his balance before crashing into the wall himself. The boy’s chest heaved and his eyes were wise.

“Please.” The boy begged and he was a boy. Clint would guess he was no more than 15. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to take anything. I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

“Yeah you were.” Clint grumbled as he let go of the boy after giving him a quick glance over. He appeared to be unarmed, underweight and dirty.

“I was. But I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m so hungry and there’s so much.”

“Are you alone?” 

“My gran- she’s at home.”

Clint sighed and looked at the boy again. He rolled his eyes and pulled from the box a bag of flour and a stem of tomatoes. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. After thinking for a moment, he grabbed a can of beef stew to add. “Take this. Water that stew down a bit and boil it with flour and you can stretch it farther. Good luck.” 

Clint didn’t look at the boy again as he grabbed his bags and tossed them into the truck. He refused to look at the now crying boy as he started the engine and pulled away. If the boy was lucky, he would make it to spring. More than likely, both he and his gran would be dead by then. Clint told himself he couldn’t care.

~~~~~<3

  Tag list: @usedtobegoodfriend96, @alcoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @winterisakiller, @j-u-s-t-4, @bambamwolf87, @missaphrodite23, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @carissime72, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting, @wegingerangelica​, @tnystrk-exe​, @faemapfae​, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​

[dlwritings]

Firecracker Soul | Dean Winchester

Chapter 13 - Unwrapped

pairing - mob!Dean x teacher!ofc

word count - 5,636

warnings - language, descriptions of physical abuse, oral (f receiving) unprotected sex (don’t be silly, protect your willy), fingering, daddy kink

additional notes at the end

(previous)

The only time Alice's parents could do dinner was the following Friday. She was excited but also inexplicably nervous. Her dads were great and she loved them both, and she knew her dad had said he had calmed Mark down enough when it came to the age difference, but what if that changed when they met him? They could be very opinionated, and Dad definitely didn't keep those opinions to himself.

So, she did the only thing a girlfriend could do. She prepped Dean.

"Okay," she said. "Call them both Mr. Berkley when you meet them, but Mark will likely tell you to use his first name from then on. Dad'll take a minute longer to warm up, but he'll get there too. Talk about your car. Anything about cars. They'll love that. And your music. You can bond over your music, because I know they listen to the same kind of stuff. Just, try not to age yourself."

"Oh?" Dean said with a laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means-" She hesitated. "-they know you're older than me, but, I don't know. Just try not to make it obvious."

"How would I make it obvious?" he asked, amused.

"Ugh, I don't know," she groaned. "I'm just stressed out. I haven't brought a guy to them since-" She cut herself off. "It's been a long time." Dean smiled and kissed her cheek. They were sitting on the couch in her apartment, killing some time before they needed to head over for dinner. She had already packed a bag so they could go to Dean's afterward. Anytime she had the chance to sleep there, she would take it. His bed was like sleeping on a cloud, plus she loved making breakfast at his place. His kitchen was so much bigger and nicer than hers.

"Okay, okay," he said. "Not obvious. I can do that." He paused, making an expression like he was considering something. "So I take it they don't know you call me daddy?" She raised her eyebrows as he pulled her onto his lap, holding her hips tightly.

"You think you're pretty funny, don't you?" she said.

"Actually, I think I'm hilarious."

"Yeah, well, try that joke on my dads," she said. "I think they'd both kill you."

"Mm, I'd like to see them try."

"Ha. So would I."

Dean licked his lips and eyed her outfit. She kept her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "You know," he said, "what you're wearing is pretty unfair."

"Oh?" she said. "Why's that?"

"Well," he said slowly, "if it was a skirt-" He started kissing her neck, and she sighed and tilted her head to the side. "-I'd be able to finger fuck you under the table at dinner." He chuckled. "I can just see you, gripping the kitchen table so tight your knuckles would turn white. You'd be biting your lip, praying neither of them would ask why your cheeks were so red. Why you weren't eating. Why you looked so flustered." Alice swallowed thickly and started rolling her hips against his.

"Dean," she whined.

"But I can't," he said with a dramatic sigh, "because you're wearing this little number." He tugged at the sleeve of her jumpsuit. "And what really sucks is we don't have time for me to take care of you now. Look at the time." She forced her eyes open and looked at the clock. He was right. If they didn't leave right then, they'd be late.

"I, I don't care," she stuttered out. "They can wait."

Dean chuckled. "See, you want me to make you cum, and usually, I would be all for it, but then what am I supposed to do when I wind up hard as a rock before dinner with your dads?" She sighed and buried her face in his neck.

"You really suck," she whispered. "Did you know that? Did you know you're the worst?" He chuckled and squeezed her ass, then gave it a playful swat. She took a sharp breath and rolled her hips against his. She felt her heart drop to her stomach, and Dean tentatively moved a hand to her ass again, squeezing it gently.

"Did you like that?" he asked. She let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Oh, fuck Alice," he groaned. "Alright. We gotta go before I do something I can't take back." She whined and wouldn't remove herself from his lap.

"No," she said. "Don't want to." Dean's jaw clenched, her disobedience stirring something inside him.

"Sweetheart," he said. "I'm not asking. Off." She sighed and hopped off his lap, sitting back on the couch with her arms folded across her chest. Dean stood up and looked at her, his jaw still set. "Let's go," he said. "Now."

She huffed. "You're no fun." He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of her head, and barely ghosting his lips over hers.

"If you keep acting like a brat," he said, "I'll have to spank that pout away, you understand?" She pressed her thighs together, and he placed a peck to her lips and pulled away, standing up straight and holding his hand out for her to take. His tense expression had vanished and was replaced with an arrogant smirk.

God, he was good. They hadn't even had sex yet and he was already threatening a kinky punishment. And the threat worked.

Alice's dads met Dean and Alice at the front door. She completely abandoned Dean in the car and ran up to them, wrapping her arms around them both in a hug. "Oh, you're gonna break your old man," Aaron laughed. She just smiled and kissed him on the cheek, then did the same for Mark. She looked at both of them, focusing more on Aaron.

"Be nice," she said.

"I'm always nice," Aaron said. Mark just chuckled and folded his arms across his chest as Dean approached them.

"Dad, Mark," she said, putting her arm around Dean's waist, "this is my boyfriend, Dean." Dean reached out to shake both men's hands, Aaron's first and then Mark's.

"Mr. Berkley," Dean said, "Mr. Berkley."

"Call me Mark," the man said, just as Alice expected he would. Aaron, on the other hand, just gave Dean a smile. "It's nice to meet you," he said.

"You as well," Dean said, looking at both Aaron and Mark. Alice let out a nervous chuckle.

"Alright," she said. "Let's go inside. What's for dinner?"

"I thought I'd grill some burgers," Aaron said. "You can help Mark make some of his fries. I made potato salad earlier."

"You're going all out," she teased.

"Well, we have a guest," Aaron teased back. "We can't just serve frozen pizza."

"Careful," she said back. "At his family dinners, he serves Chinese takeout."

Dean scoffed. "It was one time!"

While she and Mark worked on cutting the potatoes and making his homemade fries, Dean stood outside with Aaron around the grill, drinking beer and chatting. "He's handsome," Mark said, his tone light and teasing. She giggled and bumped her hip with his.

"I told you," she said. "And I swear, he's so sweet. You'll really like him."

"If he makes you this happy, I already like him."

Alice scoffed. "And Dad?"

Mark chuckled. "Give him an hour and one conversation about that car you drove in, and he'll be good."

Outside, Dean and Aaron were talking. They had, in fact, already discussed the beauty that was the Impala, and after a lull in the conversation, Aaron said, "You should hear the way she talks about you. I can tell she really likes you." Dean looked inside through the window at Alice and Mark and couldn't help but smile. They were peeling potatoes and laughing with each other. Alice caught his eye through the glass and gave him a smile.

"I like her too," he said, looking back at Aaron. "A lot." Aaron nodded and took another sip of his beer.

"You two are at different stages in your lives," Aaron said. "You have almost twenty years on her, right?"

"Yes sir," Dean said. Quickly, he added, "But the age difference doesn't bother either of us." Aaron chuckled which made Dean look at him. He closed the lid of the grill and turned to face Dean.

"Has Alice told you much about her mom?" he asked.

Dean shook his head no. "She told me she never met her. She died giving birth. She was about her age when she had her."

"Mhm," Aaron hummed. "And I'm 61. How's your math?" It was a rhetorical question. "I was just a couple years younger than you."

"I had no idea," Dean said. "Alice never told me."

Aaron just smiled. "I know what it's like to fall in love with someone and have everyone think they're too young for you. You're convinced they're wrong because you have your rose colored glasses on. Everything seems perfect, and everyone who disagrees just doesn't understand, right?"

"All due respect," he said, "we're not naive, sir. Things may feel perfect now, but we know that's not forever. But whatever happens, whatever comes, we'll handle it. This isn't just an adventure for me. I care about her." Aaron gave a small smile and folded his arms across his chest.

"Alice is a lot like her mom," he said. "She loves very easily, and she cares with everything in her. But she's got that-" He chuckled. "-I always called it a firecracker soul. There's a lot of spunk behind how shy she seems, and it comes out so suddenly, you never see it coming. She's a lot stronger than she looks, and she'll stand up for the people she loves. But-" He hesitated. "What has she told you about her ex-boyfriend?"

Dean shrugged. "Not much. He didn't want her to go to grad school. That's it."

Aaron sighed. "He wasn't a good guy, but he was one of those people she fought for because she loved him, and it bit her in the ass." The memory clearly didn't sit right with Aaron, because he hung his head, cleared his throat, and looked up at Dean again. "If I ever find out that you hurt her in any way, you won't live to see another day, do you understand me?"

Dean knew Aaron was playing the protective father, and even though he could kill Aaron much faster than the other way around, he respected him. "Yes sir," Dean said. Aaron stuck out his hand to Dean, and he took it and gave it a firm shake.

Dinner was so much better than Alice thought it was going to be. They laughed throughout the entire meal, and Alice could tell Aaron and Mark both genuinely liked Dean. He was saying all the right things, and it made her wonder how many girls' parents he had met before. Still, she decided not to dwell. Things were going well, and there was no need for her to think about that mysterious Lisa girl again.

Dean kept his hand on Alice's thigh all night, rubbing circles over the fabric, and it made her mind wander. She had made a decision earlier in the day, and his touch wasn't helping her calm her nerves over it. She was desperate to leave, to get back to his apartment. When Dean's hand slid so far up her thigh that she couldn't handle it any longer, she cleared her throat and stood up from the table. "Well," she said, "this has been so fun, but I think it's time to head out." Aaron and Mark nodded and walked the pair to the front door. Alice hugged both of them, and Dean shook each of their hands.

"Mr. Berkley, Mark," he said, "it was great to meet you both."

"You too," Aaron said. "And call me Aaron."

When they were a sufficient distance away from her parents' house, Alice leaned over and pressed a kiss to Dean's cheek. He chuckled and looked at her, and she slid over on the bench seat so she could lean her head on his shoulder as he drove. "What's that for, sweetheart?" he asked. She smiled.

"I'm just really glad that all went well," she said. He kissed the top of her head before looking back at the road.

"Me too."

They got to Dean's house not too long after, said hello to Derek, and headed up to the penthouse. "You want some wine?" he asked. She nodded and plopped on the couch in the living room while she waited. He came over and handed her the glass, which she took with a quiet thank you and sipped from right away. Dean sat next to her, and she half expected him to turn on the TV. Instead, he turned slightly and rested his arm on the back of the couch.

"I was talking to your dad," he said, "and he mentioned your ex." Alice tensed immediately and took another sip of her wine. This was not a way to get in the mood. "What was his name?" Dean asked.

She cleared her throat and looked down at her glass. "Greg." Dean nodded and put his own glass down.

"How often did he hit you?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up. "What are you talking about?" she asked, acting completely clueless.

"You flinch when I raise my voice and sometimes even when I touch you," he said, "and you apologize for everything. It's not hard to put the pieces together. I know you say he wasn't supportive of you going to grad school, but your dad made it seem like it was more than that. Like I said, I can see it in the way you act." She couldn't tell if he was annoyed that she wasn't answering him or pitying her for ever having been in that situation. She didn't like it either way. Still, she sighed.

"Whenever he was mad, I guess," she said. "He told me he had depression, and if he was having a really bad spiral, everything made him angry. Honestly, I think that was just his excuse. It all got worse the longer we were together. It was like he was mad more than he was happy." She didn't realize she was shaking until Dean reached out and held her hand. "It shouldn't be a big deal," she said. "It was a long time ago."

"How long ago?" Dean asked. She clenched her jaw and hung her head.

"Just under two months," she said. "That's why I moved here. I was with him in New York, but it got too bad, so I ran. I moved here in August, a month before school started."

"How bad was it?" Dean asked.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I was admitted to the hospital a few times," she said. "Just for concussions and stuff. He tried not to do anything where people might see."

"Is that where-" He hesitated.

"What?" she asked.

"Your scar," he said. "The one I saw the other day. Did he give that to you?" She swallowed thickly, then nodded.

"He was mad," she said. "It was when I first told him I wanted to apply for grad school, and he told me it was a waste of time. I got upset, and I told him that he needed to let me live my own life. I guess-" She laughed sadly. "-that was the wrong thing to say, because he pushed me against the wall. He started choking me, but I kicked him in the crotch. I tried to run, but he got his hands on me and threw me against a table. The corner hit me in the side. He didn't want to deal with the aftermath, so he left me there. I had to call 911."

"You didn't press charges?"

"No," she scoffed. "I never even thought about it."

"Why?"

She clenched her jaw and shook her head, then looked down at her hands. "You don't know what it's like," she whispered, "to be a victim like that. I just kept finding excuses for it or brushing it off as my own fault. I thought he would get better, and every time he said he was sorry. It was so much easier to believe him than question it everyday."

When Alice was quiet for a few minutes, Dean rubbed her rib where he knew the scar was under her jumpsuit, and she instinctively jumped. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," Dean said. "You've got nothing to be sorry for." She felt her lower lip quiver, and tears were quickly forming in her eyes.

"I hate how weak he made me feel," she admitted. "Most of the time, I would just, I would just lay on the ground and let him hurt me. After a while I didn't even fight him." A few tears escaped her eyes, and Dean brushed them away with his thumbs.

"It's okay," he said gently. He held her close to him and placed a kiss to the top of her head. "I would never, ever hurt you. I would never lay a hand on you in any way without your consent, okay?" She nodded and closed her eyes, relaxing in his comforting embrace. Dean made her feel safe. She didn't care if the world saw him as a dangerous mob boss. With her, he was gentle and sweet. With her, he was just Dean. She knew he would never hurt her.

Alice looked up at him and put her hand on the back of his head, pushing her lips to his. Dean was startled for a moment but quickly put his hands on her waist. She adjusted herself so she was straddling his waist, and she lightly bit his bottom lip to deepen the kiss. When Dean felt her reach for the hem of his t-shirt, he pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed to hers. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low. She closed her eyes and swallowed nervously.

"I want you, Dean," she said. Dean licked his lips and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I want you to be sure."

"I am sure," she said. She lightly ground her hips against his, and he growled and gripped them tighter. "Please, Dean." He nodded and pressed his lips to hers, easing his tongue into her mouth. She whimpered and kissed him harder, feeling desperation for him build in her stomach. She wanted this. She wanted him.

"Okay, sweetheart," he said, pulling his lips away. She whined and tried to kiss him again which only made him chuckle. "Okay, okay, easy. Let's go to the bedroom, okay?" She nodded, so the two of them stood up and walked over to the bedroom, Dean holding her hand the whole way. He could tell she was nervous, and he wanted to put her at as much ease as he could. His thumb was rubbing her hand, and he gave it a squeeze as soon as they crossed into the bedroom.

He laid her onto the bed and crawled on top of her, kissing her gently. She threaded her fingers in his hair, and Dean had both hands pressed against the mattress on either side of her head. Even the way Alice was kissing him back made it clear she was nervous. He pulled away. "We don't have-"

"I know," she said, cutting him off. "I told you. I want to. I'm so sure. I'm just-" She hesitated. "I'm just a little nervous."

"It's okay," he said, kissing her neck. "I promise I'll be gentle. And if you at any point change your mind and want to stop, you tell me and we can stop." She nodded, and Dean kissed her lips again. He pulled away to look at her, and when she gave him a nod, he worked to pull her jumpsuit off her body. Her bra was baby pink and lacy, and it made Dean's mouth water, and her panties matched. They were satin and lace and had a pink bow on the front. He smiled and left an open-mouthed kiss over her underwear, right where a wet patch was already forming.

"All wrapped up with a pretty little bow," Dean muttered, his lips tickling her. "Can I unwrap now?"

"Yes," she breathed out. "Please."

"Good girl," he hummed. "Using your manners." She nodded and lifted her hips so he could easily slide her underwear off. "Take your bra off for me, sweetheart," he said. She did as he said and tossed it aside. He smiled up at her and kissed each of her thighs. She whined again, and Dean chuckled before slowly dipping his tongue past her folds. She breathed out -almost in relief- and tugged her fingers through his hair. He growled when she tugged particularly roughly, and he pressed his face closer to her, scratching her thighs with his beard. His licks were slow, each one adding more pressure than the last. She felt his thumbs spread her lips apart as if trying to give himself more access to go even deeper. When his tongue started circling her clit, he pushed a finger inside her, wiggling it a bit before soon adding a second.

"Hm," she hummed. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" he asked, giving her clit another flick with his tongue.

"Just," she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I want to hear you say it," he whispered. "What do you want daddy to do, sweetheart?"

She sighed and kept her eyes shut, putting her hands over her face. Dean kept his fingers inside her but scooted up so his lips were next to her ear. "It's okay," he whispered. "Why don't you just tell me this: Do you want daddy to fuck you? To fill you up with his cock? Is that what you want?" She sighed and moved her hands, putting one of them on his head so she could tug at his hair.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. That's what I want. Please." Dean chuckled and placed a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Okay," he said. "We'll work on you using your words another time." She nodded, and he peppered kisses down her body again, keeping his fingers moving inside her. He finally pulled them out of her and brought them up to his lips, sucking them clean. He tugged his shirt over his head while she pressed her thighs together to try and sooth the aching a bit. Dean tutted and pulled her legs apart. "Want you to keep them open for me," he said, leaning down to kiss her lips. "I'm gonna go get a condom, okay?"

"Wait," she said, grabbing his arm before he could go away. "I- I'm actually on the pill." Dean raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. She blushed and licked her lips. "It helps regulate my period," she said with a shrug. He then licked his lips and hung his head a bit. "I mean, you can still get a condom if you want," she said. "I just didn't know if-" Dean cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. She was shocked, and he pulled back and sighed.

"It's up to you, sweetheart," he said. "I'm clean and I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you are too." She bit her lip, and Dean stroked her cheek.

God, it would feel so good to fuck her raw.

Alice nodded and put her hand over his. "Okay," she said. "It's okay. Don't use one."

Dean closed his eyes and mouthed, "Fuck," before leaning down to press his lips to hers again. He pulled away and tugged his jeans and boxers off at the same time.

Dean lifted her chin and made her meet his eyes. She hadn't even realized she had been staring. He kissed her -more softly than he had all night- and pushed her legs apart a little more. "Remember," he said, muttering against her lips, "you say the word, and we stop."

"I know," she said. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, threading her fingers in his hair. Dean nodded, pressed his lips against hers, and slowly slid inside her. She moaned against his lips and squeezed her eyes shut. She tilted her head back and broke the kiss, letting out a whimper.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. She didn't say anything, too focused on catching her breath. "Hey, hey," Dean said, turning her cheek so she was looking at him. "Are you okay?" he repeated.

"Yeah," she breathed out.

"What do you want?" he asked. She swallowed thickly.

"Keep going," she said. "Just slow." Dean nodded and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, kissing her softly as he pushed deeper into her. Her grip in his hair tightened, and her other hand was digging its nails into the skin of his back. He moaned against her skin and placed another kiss to her neck. She was squeezing him tighter than he had ever experienced before.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered.

"What?" she whispered. "Is, is it okay?"

"Fuck, baby," Dean said. "You feel so fucking good. You just let me know what you need."

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I-" She cut herself off with a heavy sigh. "I feel full." The words made Dean's cock twitch inside her. "Do you want to move?"

"Oh, I want to do a lot of things, sweetheart," Dean said. "But you tell me what you want."

"I, I think I want you to move," she whispered. "Just slow."

"I can do that," he said. He pulled his hips back slowly before pushing them forward again. She whimpered but nodded her head, silently letting Dean know everything was okay. He continued to move, thrusting in and out of her and attempting not to lose control. She felt so good, and it was taking everything in his power not to pound her into the mattress. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, so he knew she was still experiencing some discomfort. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them, then reached between their bodies and started rubbing her clit.

"Oh," she breathed out, her eyes suddenly fluttering open. He looked at her, licking his lips, before leaning down to kiss her. She kissed him back weakly, her mind too focused on all the different feelings she was experiencing. Dean twitched again inside her, and he could tell he was getting close. As badly as he wanted to hold out a little longer, she was so fucking tight, he knew he wouldn't last.

"How're you doing, baby?" he asked, thrusting into her a little deeper. She moaned, though it didn't sound as laced in slight pain as it had earlier.

"'M fine," she muttered.

"Fine ain't good enough for me," he said. "What can I do for ya?"

"I don't know," she whispered. Dean could hear the desperation in her voice, and a bit of his heart broke. He couldn't imagine not knowing what made his body feel good and what didn't. He tried to think of a position that might open her up more, so he brought both of her knees to her chest. She moaned and arched her back, her eyes squeezing shut. He was able to reach even deeper inside her, and something about the new position made a lot of the pain go away. He started rubbing quicker circles on her clit, hoping the pressure there would ease any discomfort she was feeling anywhere else. He felt her body relax a bit more, and she moaned softly in his ear.

"Baby," Dean said, "You're gonna cum before me, you understand?"

"Dean," she moaned, her breath getting caught in her throat. Tears were coming to her eyes. She was right there. She could feel the pressure building in her lower stomach, and Dean was sure no woman had ever squeezed his cock like this.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" he muttered. She nodded, and he started pounding into her harder, his balls slapping against her skin with every thrust. She cried out and dug her nails into his back, scratching marks all across his skin.

"Oh my god," she cried. "Dean."

"Can daddy cum inside you?" he asked, his face buried in her neck. She nodded, her breaths coming out short. "Go ahead, sweetheart," he said through a moan. "Cum for me."

She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out his name again as she came, sure she drew blood on his upper back with her nails. Dean came at the same time, shooting his load inside her. She whimpered and pulled Dean so close to her, he was practically laying on top of her. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear as she caught her breath. When he pulled out of her, she shuddered at the feeling of his cum leaking out of her. Dean bit back a moan at the sight. He brushed some of her hair away from her face. "Need you to use the bathroom," he told her. "When you're done, I'll run us a bath, okay?"

She nodded and went to the bathroom to relieve herself. When she washed her hands, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her skin was flushed, and Dean had left little love bites across her neck and chest. She bit her lip and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Dean knocked. "Mm?" she hummed back. Dean opened the door and smiled at her.

"Ready for that bath?" he asked. She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. He placed a kiss to her forehead as he passed her to fill up the bathtub. She leaned her back against the counter and kept her arms folded across herself as she waited for the bathtub to fill. Dean found a bath bomb Jess had gotten him once and added it to the tub.

When the bath was finally ready, Alice stepped in, sinking down into the water with a content sigh. Dean got in the tub behind her, settling his legs around her body. She leaned back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. "You feeling okay?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said. "I'm okay. I feel-" She hesitated, trying to collect her thoughts. "-weird I guess. Not bad. Just weird." Dean nuzzled his face against her neck and kissed her. "But it was good," she assured him, reaching her hand behind her and tangling her hand in his hair. She lifted his head so she could kiss his lips, and he smiled and kissed her back.

"First times can be weird," he told her when he pulled away. "Next time'll be better. Promise. We can try new positions that might help." She nodded and relaxed against his chest again. He grabbed her loofa and washed her arms, legs, and tummy. When he put the loofa down, he let his hand trail down her torso and to her thighs. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt a pulse between her legs. Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her skin. "Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?" he asked. "Do you want that?" She nodded and let her hand rest on the back of his neck again. She could feel Dean smile against her skin as he slid one of his fingers inside her. She sighed and gripped his hair tighter, and he didn't waste any time before he added another. Considering his cock had been in her not very long ago, she took his fingers with ease. She threw her head back against his shoulder and whimpered.

"Dean," she breathed out. He hummed and started rubbing his thumb against her clit. He knew she wouldn't last long, still pretty wound up from earlier. He used his other hand to squeeze her breast and tweak her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She let out short but heavy breaths, and her eyes were squeezed shut. He was surprised when she put her hand over his that was on her pussy and pushed his hand, encouraging him to move his fingers deeper inside her and his thumb faster against her clit.

"You want to help daddy?" he whispered. "You gonna help daddy make you cum?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Need you to go faster."

"Good girl," he said. He moved his thumb in faster circles and his fingers thrust a little deeper.

She moaned out his name and another breathy, "Yes," before she came around his fingers.

"Good girl," Dean said again, his breath tickling her ear. "Just like that, sweetheart." He helped her ride out her orgasm, and her jaw dropped in a silent moan. Dean captured her lips in a kiss, sliding his tongue in her mouth. She whined against his lips when he pulled his fingers out of her, and she could feel him smile.

They soaked in silence in the tub until Dean noticed the water went cold. "Come on, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear. "Let's get to bed."

"Hmm?" she hummed. Dean looked down at Alice and chuckled, realizing he had just woken her up. He kissed her cheek, getting out of the tub and wrapping a towel around his waist. She sat up a bit, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Dean grabbed another towel and helped her out of the tub, wrapping the plush fabric around her. He gave her a clean pair of boxers to wear and his Led Zeppelin shirt, and she mumbled something about needing to keep her own clothes there.

And he liked the idea of that.

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

A/N - this gif gave me heart palpitations | psa that you shouldn’t assume someone is clean just because they’re a virgin

(next)

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[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 25 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Grease finishes its illustrious run, and we end the school year with Prom and a group trip to the movies.

TW: homophobia

Chapter 25: Hopelessly Devoted To You

Despite their opening night drama, the rest of the weekend’s performances of Grease went off without a hitch. The principal agreed to beef up security and they kept would-be protestors far away from the theatre - so after 2 days they got bored and stopped showing up.

And, possibly because of all the controversy, ticket sales soared, and they ended up getting a write-up in the Arts section of a big San Gabriel Valley newspaper.

Alyssa was so jazzed by the extra attention that she began to ham it up even more than she had during rehearsals. One night, during the drive-in scene, she hit Roy so hard one night that he had a bruise the next day.

“Where are the fucking protesters for THAT?!” Roy whined, as he got ready that night.

“I mean, you were trying to date rape her,” Courtney reasoned.

“NO I WASN’T!” Roy screeched. “My character was! Why should I get a bruise for something he does?! This is reverse sexism!”

“Awwww…” Courtney soothed, climbing into his lap. “Poor baby…”

“Reverse sexism,” Darienne chuckled to herself, “Like that’s a thing.”

“It is!” Roy insisted.

Courtney kissed his cheek, teasingly saying, “I know, it’s so hard to be a sensitive male these days.”

“It really is,” he whimpered, resting his head on her chest.

“Oh, BOO HOO!” Alyssa crowed from nearby. “Listen, you just watch out the next time Danny tries to touch my girl without consent. I’ll break your goddamn fingers!”

“Alyssa…” Darienne laughed, shaking her head. “I think you’re going off book, here.”

“I think she’s going off the fucking deep end!” Roy said. “Anyone got a straightjacket?”

Alyssa grinned devilishly at him, making some punching motions in the air.

Roy nuzzled against Courtney’s neck. “You’re still her understudy, right? Can we have her killed?”

-

ADORE: You coming to the diner?

PEARL: Yeah, I just have to finish up here first. Order me some fries?

ADORE: You got it.

Pearl tucked her phone back into her pocket, turning her attention to the backdrops. She had to stay a little longer than the cast after the show was over to help reset all the set pieces for the next night. Most of the cast and crew had left, waiting for their rides or making their way to a nearby diner for post-show bonding.

Pearl unlocked the wheels of the drive-in set, pulling the backdrop behind her as she headed to the wings, accidentally running over her own foot in the process.

“Motherfucker,” Pearl groaned, reaching down to rub her throbbing foot.

“Need some help?” Shea appeared from behind the backdrop, catching Pearl by surprise.

“Shea? Hey! Uh, yeah I could use some help,” Pearl nodded, the pain in her foot completely forgotten.

“We're gonna leave it right here,” Pearl guided, nodding to the other backdrop already tucked away.

“Here?”

“Yep, now just lock the wheel on that side. I'll do this one.” Pearl quickly locked the wheel then glanced up to see Shea bent over, face scrunched in confusion. “It’s… it’s right there.”

Pearl walked over to her and bent down, showing her how to lock the wheel.

“You just… and it’s locked,” she smiled.

“Oh,” Shea nodded, gazing up into her eyes before clearing her throat. “Easier than it looked.”

She straightened up, then followed Pearl back to the stage to grab some of the Burger Palace pieces.

“Mhm,” Pearl nodded, gesturing to the booth that they needed to move. “This one slides pretty easily.”

Shea helped her work, biting her lip every time they locked eyes.  

“The show’s been going well,” Shea said finally, looking at Pearl with earnest brown eyes.

“Yeah, people wanted to see what all the hoopla was about after the first night,” Pearl shrugged, brushing her hands off and looking around to see if anything else needed to be moved before tomorrow.

“Hoopla?” Shea brows furrowed in confusion before letting a laugh escape her.

“Yeah, you know, all the commotion, the hoopla.” Pearl’s hand swirled in the air nonchalantly, but the moment Shea burst in laughter, Pearl found herself giggling along.

“Who actually uses the word ‘hoopla' besides someone's grandpa?” Shea shook her head, following Pearl towards the exit, shoulders brushing together as they walked.

“I don't know, I don't know… I watched Spongebob the other day. Really, I've never used that word until now,” Pearl said, turning towards Shea as they approached the big double doors.

“Wow, Hoopla. I should start using that word. It's fun to say,” Shea giggled.

“It is,” Pearl chuckled, then bit down on her bottom lip, her gaze moving to Shea’s full lips.

Shea noticed, her own laughter fading off.

Pearl’s heart leaped to her throat as the silence between them filled with an energy she'd only encountered a few times before. She put one hand on the heavy door, and Shea did the same, their fingers bumping.

Eyes snapped to each other, gauging the other’s reaction. Pearl’s tongue darted across her lip as she leaned towards Shea, eyes flickering between glossed lips and wide eyes.

“Shea!”

The sound of Sasha’s voice had Shea stumbling back, right into a rack of costumes, a small gasp leaving her lips.

Pearl frowned, reaching to help her, but when her hands were swatted away, she backed up letting Shea have her space.

“Shea, you back here? Shea?” Sasha rounded the curtain, footsteps stuttering when she saw Pearl running her fingers through her thick blonde hair, looking at Shea with nervous eyes, while Shea hurriedly righted the wardrobe rack, re-hanging the pieces that had fallen off the hangers.

-

In a bizarre compromise with her mother, Darienne had been allowed to stay in the show despite the “evil pro-gay message” but not participate in any of the fun stuff, like going to the diner after the performances with the rest of the cast and crew.

Courtney had just been texting her a sympathetic message when she looked up. Bob was in the middle of an animated story, while Roy interjected with corrections and insults, as per usual. But what Courtney noticed wasn’t the boys, but how Adore sat in a booth nearby, staring into space.

She decided to take advantage of this rare moment while Raja was distracted at the jukebox with Raven, and squeezed her bestie on the shoulder to grab her attention.

“Hey...”

“What’s up?” Adore asked, giving her a half-smile, biting down on a fry.

“You were great tonight. I mean, you’re always great, but…” Courtney gave her a bright smile.

Adore swallowed. “Thanks. Um, you too.”

Courtney slid into the booth beside her, wrapping her arms around her waist and looking up at her with loving eyes.

“You’re so beautiful…”

“Alright, who gave you weed?” Adore scoffed. “Willam? Pearl?”

“Nobody! I’m totally sober. You’re just pretty, that’s all.”

“Well...thanks,” Adore bit her lip.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Courtney asked, lashes fluttering.

“Uh. Of course. You’re stunning. Gorgeous. A living doll.” Adore glanced around helplessly. Where was Raja? Where was Roy?

Courtney giggled and nuzzled her cheek.

“What’s going on over here?” Raja asked, strolling up.

Before Adore could open her mouth, Courtney piped up, “Not much, I was just molesting your girlfriend.” She smiled coyly, head still on Adore’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” Raja sat down. “Seems reasonable.”

“Courtney, knock it off!” Adore said, shrugging her off.

Raja snickered, saying, “Oh yeah, you looked like you were really suffering there.”

Adore folded her arms crossly.

“Dory, don’t be mad…” Courtney pouted.

“Yeah Dory, don’t be mad.” Raja reached over to steal a French fry, brow arched suggestively.

“Ugh, you both suck!” Adore said, getting up and stomping over to the counter.

Courtney opened her mouth, eyes wide and innocent. “What?!”

Raja laughed, shaking her head. “Just let her sulk. Have some fries.”

-

After closing night, there was a wrap party at Pearl’s house, complete with Karaoke machine, mini strobe lights, and sundae bar. Or as Willam lovingly dubbed it, “the ultimate nerd fest.”

Pearl sat on top of her kitchen counter, nodding her head to the beat of the music, watching the party around her as she sipped from her cup of punch.

“Pearl!” Sasha smiled as she entered the kitchen to get some snacks, pulling the blonde’s attention away from Shangela and Alyssa’s karaoke performance.

“Sup,” she nodded.

“What’re you doing in here by yourself?” Sasha asked, crumbling a handful of potato chips over her chocolate ice cream, then topped the whole thing with caramel sauce.

“Just chilling,” Pearl shrugged, then gestured to Sasha’s sundae. “That’s genius.”

“Salty and sweet,” Sasha nodded and the two girls went silent for a moment as she dug in.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Pearl leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

“Sure.” Sasha nodded.

“Um…I’m usually a pretty good judge of when I like, vibe with a girl. And…and I really like Shea, and sometimes it seems like she likes me back. But then…I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I’m totally barking up the wrong tree. Am I crazy?”

“Well…” Sasha took a small bite of her ice cream, head titled thoughtfully. “We haven’t talked about it. And if we had, I wouldn’t tell you, because, you know, BFF trust.”

“Of course.”

“But, just from what I’ve seen…I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The thing is…” Sasha paused. “She's not like you. I mean, she’s still probably figuring some things out.”

Pearl nodded knowingly; Shea wouldn't be the first confused (or closeted) girl she had a crush on.

“So as long as you get that she’s in a different place, and you’re careful of her feelings…I don’t think you’re barking up the wrong tree. I just think you might need to be extra patient. You know?”

“Yeah.” Pearl nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And, in case you’re wondering, she’s out by the pool. Last I saw, she was talking to Carmen and Laganja.

“Awesome.” Pearl flashed a smile, hopping off the counter.

-

“Adore, you wanna do ‘Bidi Bidi Bom Bom,’ or ‘No Me Queda Más’?” April asked, flipping through the karaoke book.

“Uhhh…” Adore paused, eyeing Courtney and Roy on the sofa before looking back at April to suggest, “What about ‘Dreaming of You’?”

April scoffed. “Omigod, you’re so basic! That’s her whitest song, you fuckin’ gringa!”

“Well, I don’t really speak Spanish, dude, sorry!” Adore defended herself with a shrug. “You know that.”

“Okay, fine, ‘Dreaming of You.’ But will you at least try ‘No Me Queda Más’?”

“I’ll do my best.”

April nodded, writing down the track numbers and handing them to Bob, who was lording over the rented karaoke machine with an iron fist. “Sir, please?”

While Adore waited for their turn, her attention drifted back to Courtney, curled in Roy’s lap, feeding him her ice cream sundae. They’d been sickeningly sweet all night, and while Adore was trying to ignore their nauseatingly adorable antics, it was proving harder and harder.

“I have no idea why I’m eating this,” Roy murmured, licking a drip off Courtney’s finger. “I don’t even like vanilla.”

“That’s funny, ‘cause I think a vanilla sundae is the perfect metaphor for you two dweebs,” Willam called from across the room, causing Bob to snicker and high five him.

“Fuck off!” Courtney shouted back. “I put rainbow sprinkles on it. And this cherry.” She lifted the maraschino cherry out by the stem, twirling it on her tongue.

“Give me that…” Roy said.

“Oh, you want this?” Courtney teased, batting her lashes. She glanced over to see if Adore was watching, feeling a rush of adrenaline from the other girl’s eyes on her.

“Yes. Please baby, give me your cherry…”

Courtney giggled, dangling it in front of him tauntingly. “Say please again, tell me how much you want it…” she breathed.

Unable to take it anymore, Adore got up, utterly disgusted, and stalked outside.

“Adore! Come back, we’re up next!” April called.

“Raincheck,” Adore grumbled, slamming the sliding glass door behind her.

Courtney paused, holding the cherry mid-air, wondering if she’d gone too far. She wanted Adore’s attention, but not to piss her off.

“Babyyy,” Roy whimpered.

“Here,” Courtney said, shoving the cherry into his mouth and letting out a disappointed sigh.

-

Adore found Raja out on the patio with Jinkx, smoking and drinking. She went up to Raja and demanded a cigarette.

“You don’t smoke,” the older girl told her breezily.

“I do tonight,” she insisted.

Raja handed Adore her lit cigarette and lit another for herself, watching her carefully. Adore looked over at Jinkx, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, and snatched it out of her hands, taking a long slug, then another.

“You okay there, tiger?” Jinkx asked.

Adore wiped her mouth, shrugging. Pearl and Shea were sitting on top of a retaining wall, just a few feet away. Adore looked over at them just as Shea whispered something to Pearl, both laughing softly. Adore narrowed her eyes, irritated.

“What’s with you two?” she asked hoarsely. “Are you like, fucking now?”

Shea’s eyes widened in shock.

“Adore!” Pearl cried, horrified.

“Um, I have to...I should probably get going...it’s late and I need...uh…” Shea stammered, sliding down and backing away.

“Shea, I’m sorry, you don’t have to go, you can-” Pearl protested.

“No, it’s fine, I should have left earlier anyway, but...I’ll see you around, okay?” She turned around, hurrying from the yard through the side gate.

Pearl turned towards Adore, irritated, as shrieking laughter sounded from the pool.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Pearl began.

Nearby, Raven’s voice called out, “Raja! Come here!!”

Raja looked over to the pool, where Raven was fooling around with a bunch of kids and some massive flotation devices, then back at Adore. She took Jinkx by the hand and dragged her over to the pool, leaving Adore and Pearl alone on the patio.

Adore sighed, pulling her flannel tighter around herself. Despite it being May, there was a chill in the air.

Pearl watched her for a few moments before saying, “Alright. Out with it. What’s going on?”

“What?” Adore asked defensively.

“There’s only one thing that puts you in this kind of mood, so what? They do some gross hetero promise ring bullshit? He banging her out in one of the back bedrooms? Tell me.”

Adore sighed. “No, they’re just...eating an ice cream sundae.”

“Oh yeah,” Pearl nodded. “I can see why that would send you over the edge.”

“You weren’t there.”

“True.”

“It was really...too much.” Adore sighed again, taking another drag of the cigarette.

“Have you ever considered just telling her how you feel?”

“About as much as I’ve considered putting this cigarette out in my own eye,” Adore replied.

“Gotcha.”

“This is disgusting, by the way.”

Pearl nodded. “Yeah, it’s awful. Takes years off your life, too.”

“Ugh. Fuck this whole fucking night, man.”

Pearl moved closer to her, put a hand on her shoulder.

“Listen. I’m sorry you’re having a rough night. And you know, I really love you, and I’m always here if you want to talk. But...if you ever fuck up my game again, I will punch you in the face.”

Adore laughed and covered her eyes. “Shit. Sorry.”

Pearl kissed her forehead. “It’s alright. You get one pass.”

-

Adore sat on the retaining wall, holding the empty bottle of Jack, feeling slightly dizzy and more than a little sick. Her downcast eyes were dull with regret.

“So…fun party, huh?”

She looked up to see Raja standing there, with that typical, aloof expression, and her body tensed up, tears filling her eyes.

“Raja, don’t. I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I just, I can’t, I can’t explain, I don’t-”

“Hey, hey, I’m not asking you to explain anything.” Raja stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Adore sniffled, guilt filling her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m also not asking you to apologize. We all have shitty days. It’s fine. Yesterday I kicked over a trash can and called Raven a cow.”

“Seriously?” Adore laughed, amused in spite of her shitty mood.

“It’s fine, she deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Adore wiped her eyes.

Raja smiled. “You wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes.”

“Cool.” She took her fingers and gently tilted Adore’s chin up, placing a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. “You really are so beautiful, you know that?”

Adore sighed. “Sure you’re not just looking at your own reflection in my eyeballs?”

Raja grasped both of her cheeks and looked closer at her face. “Holy shit! How have I never seen my own reflection before?”

Adore giggled.

“Hold still! Oh my god, she is stunning!”

“Stop it.”

Raja helped her down and led them towards the gate, an arm slung around Adore’s shoulders.

“Seriously, I don’t know how you manage to concentrate on anything with all this staggering beauty in front of you…”

-

Courtney stood at the stove, stirring a pot of tomato sauce, as Adore perched on the counter. They were discussing prom—or rather, Raja’s prom, which Adore was having second thoughts about attending.

“Don’t you think that she should understand how you feel? I mean you were basically hate-crimed on stage,” Courtney said.  

“Well. I think she does understand, but on the other hand…it’s her prom. And I said I’d go, like a month ago,” Adore reasoned.

“But that was a month ago,” Courtney said. “Come here, taste this.”

Adore jumped down, sighing, and walked over to her.

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was a month ago. But…”

Courtney blew on the wooden spoon, cupping Adore’s chin gently in her hand. She fed her a small taste of the sauce, eyes watching her carefully.

“Do you think it’s too spicy?” she whispered.

Closing her eyes for a moment as Courtney’s fingers brushed against her cheek, a thrill rippling through her at the contact, Adore shook her head.

“No, it...it’s good.” She cleared her throat and took a few steps back. “Um, maybe a pinch more salt?”

“Thanks.” Courtney nodded and went back to the stove, humming slightly. “I think you should do whatever you feel comfortable with. She may be a little bummed if you decide not to go, but Raja doesn’t seem like the type to make a huge deal over prom anyway. Right?”

“Yeah, I...I mean that’s what I thought, but...I dunno.” Adore sighed again, sitting down heavily at the table. “I just really don’t want to make this a big fucking thing.”

Courtney sat down beside her. “So don’t.”

“But isn’t that selling out? Letting the bigots win?” Adore’s voice broke, remembering the heated conversation with Raja earlier that day.

Courtney scooted her chair closer, biting her lip, a slight guilt washing over her. She knew that if she didn’t have ambivalent feelings about Raja, about Adore’s moony-eyed puppy love, the was a chance she might be saying something slightly different. Maybe. But ulterior motives aside, she didn’t like to see her friend so torn up inside. She reached out and took Adore’s hand.

“Listen. Will you have to stand up to these kind of assholes someday? Yeah, probably. And when you do, I’ll stand up with you. But does it have to be over someone else’s prom? This week? Not unless you want. It’s still your life. You are the only one who can make that decision.”

Adore nodded. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Courtney brushed a lock of hair off of Adore’s face

-

ADORE: Well. Turns out I was being a total pissbaby drama queen. It was just a fucking dance, no one said a word.

ADORE: Like, literally, nothing happened and I feel like a complete asshole.

COURTNEY: So you had fun?

ADORE: Yeah. I mean, you know. It was a school dance. It wasn’t life-changing or anything. Lol. But sure, it was fun.

ADORE: I might just not be a school dance type. I don’t have a lot of...like...spirit.

COURTNEY: Well, yeah, duh. ;P

ADORE: lol

COURTNEY: <3

ADORE: I’m gonna sleep now but wanna hang out later?

COURTNEY: Sure. Text me when you wake up.

ADORE: Ok. XO

COURTNEY: XO

-

Adore wasn’t positive why she agreed to this. Granted, she always used to be part of the group movie night expeditions with the neighborhood crew, but ever since she’d branched off and started to hang out with Violet’s group, she’d found one excuse or another to say no. But for some reason, today, she found herself in the local multiplex with Courtney, Roy, Darienne, Thorgy, Bob, April, Alyssa, and Jamin - who she supposed was off probation now that Darienne could stand to be around him again. To make matters worse, they had collectively decided on the most basic of all basic movies - some superhero action nonsense starring Christian Bale and Joey from Dawson’s Creek, who was way less cool when stripped of her Joey vocabulary words.

Adore sighed, sipping her swimming pool sized soda. At least Roy, in a show of macho bravado, had offered to pay for her and Courtney’s snacks. So she had gigantic popcorn, 2 Kit Kat bars, Junior Mints, Twizzlers, Sour Patch Kids, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups to help her get through the experience. It cost her some side-eye, but whatever. If he was dumb enough to make that offer, then he should be prepared to handle the consequences.

It would have been nice if Raja could have made it, but as usual, she was working. It seemed like lately, the only time they had together was super late at night after CeCe’s closed down. She couldn’t blame her girlfriend - she knew that Raja was saving up to get her own place. But still, it was a little annoying to be sandwiched between April and Bob on one side (who she was pretty sure were engaging in some kind of gross hand job action under Bob’s letterman jacket), and Courtney and Roy on the other, cuddling and making Adore want to vomit, as usual.

Courtney turned towards Adore, a contented smile on her face.

“I am totally not following the plot of this movie,” she whispered, giggling.

Adore rolled her eyes. “It’s not that deep. He’s afraid of bats. He becomes a bat. Joey Potter loves him for some inexplicable reason.”

“Right. I keep thinking there must be more to it though?”

“Nope.”

Courtney inched closer to Adore.

“This theatre is freezing. Share your jacket with me.” She gazed over with a pouty face, fluttering her lashes.

Adore shrugged her off. It was one thing when they were alone, but when she pulled this kind of stuff in front of other people, it always made Adore extremely self-conscious. It was a total lose-lose for her. If she reacted too eagerly, it would be totally obvious to everyone and their mother how hard she was crushing on her best friend, but when she pushed her away, she had to deal with those hurt puppy eyes.

“Get off, bitch…”

“Please, Dory. I’ll be your best friend forever and-”

“SHHH!��� Bob hissed.

“How are you not more relaxed right now?” Adore challenged, gesturing to his lap. April’s eyes went wide in embarrassment. Adore smirked and sat back in her seat.

“Babe, come here. You can wear my jacket.”

Courtney snuggled up to Roy, lovingly placing a piece of popcorn in his mouth. What was it with Courtney and feedinghim? Was that like a kink thing? Adore shook her head. Sick. She sighed again, shifting uncomfortably. It was possible that the largest size soda wasn’t the best idea.

On the screen, Joey Potter was reaching towards Christian Bale, drawing him towards her.

Courtney inhaled sharply, and reached over, instinctively grasping for Adore’s hand in the dark, holding on tight while the actors’ lips met in a slow kiss, the music soaring. Adore’s heart pounded. She knew that this was just Courtney, it didn’t really mean anything, but it didn’t change how it made her feel. How it made her palms sweat and her pulse race, to be here in the dark, fingers intertwined and slippery with fake butter.

And then, of course, she saw Roy’s eyes, just for a moment, when the screen flashed white. Glaring at her. Did he know? Was Adore that transparent? Or was he just peeved that Courtney was grabbing Adore’s hand and not his? Anxiety filled Adore’s chest and she wrenched her hand away.

Courtney, oblivious as always, leaned her head on Roy’s shoulder and continued to watch the movie while Adore gripped the arms of the seat, her knuckles turning white. She got up and bolted for the exit, muttering about the bathroom.

Courtney turned her head and watched as Adore raced up the aisle, then turned back to the screen, biting her lip. A lump formed in her throat. She was so tired of this endless loop they were in - Courtney reaching out, taking the smallest baby steps, only to have Adore push her away. Maybe it was useless. Maybe Violet was right all those months ago when she said that Adore would never like her back. She sighed.

Roy kissed the top of her head. “Bored, baby?”

“Uh, no, just...sorry, my mind wandered a little. This movie is so dark. I think I need more color to hold my attention.”

Roy laughed, pressing his lips to her temple. “You’re the fucking cutest, you know that?”

Courtney smiled up at him. “How about after the movie, you can tell me all about how cute I am?” She kissed him lightly, sliding a hand up his thigh.

“Deal.”