#where is my boy asher | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lupinqs · 11 hours ago

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CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ The Story of Us

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of cheating

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: never date a penn state boy (i say this from experience)

JO FEELS her body move before her mind can fully catch up, her legs shaky as she pushes herself off the bed. The room feels suffocating, suddenly too small, too loud in its silence. Asher’s phone is still in her hand, the weight of it like a lead anchor pulling her into the crushing reality she can’t seem to process. Her fingers tighten around it, her knuckles white, but her face betrays nothing. Not yet.

“Asher,” she says, her voice calm, steadier than she expects, even though it feels like there’s venom in her blood, poisoning her. “Get your shoes on.”

He’s standing near the bedroom door, mid-step. Confusion flashes across his face, his brows furrowing. “What? Why?”

Jo meets his eyes. The familiar green she’s known her whole life. But then his gaze flickers down, just for a split second, to the phone in her hand, and she sees it—the faint, fleeting flicker of something that looks like realization. Panic, maybe. Guilt.

Her chest tightens, and she feels like she might choke on the sudden wave of nausea that rises in her throat. But she doesn’t let it show.

“Just… put your shoes on,” she repeats quietly, her voice still calm, still too steady. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything else yet.

Asher hesitates, his mouth opening like he might argue. But then he closes it again, his jaw tightening. He nods, moving toward the corner of the room where his sneakers lay. He doesn’t ask any more questions, but Jo can feel his unease growing with every passing second.

She starts to walk, leaving the bedroom to go put on her slippers near the apartment door. Her grip on the phone is still so tight that her hand aches, but she doesn’t let go. Her thoughts are loud, a deafening roar in her head, but at the same time, she feels hollow. Empty.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

The words keep looping in her mind, a desperate chant she clings to even as the truth sits in her hand, undeniable. She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to see whatever’s written in his face when she says the words she knows she has to say.

She’s not a fighter. She never has been. She’s kind, and forgiving, and willing to let things slide because she hates conflict, hates the way it leaves scars on her heart and the hearts of the people she loves. But this? This is too big to let slide.

She thought she knew him. She thought he was hers.

Asher’s been her constant, her everything, for as long as she can remember. The boy next door who she used to finger paint with when they were kids. The boy who held her hand when she was anxious on the first day of middle school. The boy who kissed her for the first time in eighth grade, on one of the picnic tables at their neighborhood park.

He’s the only boy she’s ever thought about, ever wanted, ever loved. She built her future around him in her head—her dreams of getting married, of starting a life together, of building something that would last forever.

Forever.

The word feels bitter in her mouth now, a cruel joke. She can feel the cracks forming in her heart, the fissures that threaten to split her in half.

When Asher finally walks out of her bedroom, his shoes tied and on, he looks at her, his face unreadable. Jo avoids his gaze, focusing on the door instead. “Come on,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He follows her without a word, and they step out into the hallway, the soft click of the door closing behind them echoing in the stillness. They have to do this outside; Jo doesn’t want to wake up Paige.

The Jacobson girl stops a few steps from the door, turning to face Asher. She keeps her grip on his phone, her fingers trembling now despite her best efforts to stay composed. Asher stands there, his hand shoved into his pockets, his eyes darting between her face and the phone. She can see it in his posture now, the way his shoulders are tense, the way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. He knows.

But he doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for her to speak first, and for a moment, she almost can’t. She stares at him, her lips parted but no sound coming out, her throat tight and dry.

She doesn’t want to do this.

But she has to.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she takes a deep breath, the sound shaky and uneven in the quiet hallway. Her voice is soft, almost fragile, when she finally speaks.

“So, her name’s Brooke?”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Jo watches as Asher’s expression crumbles. His face twists, guilt flashing so obviously across his features that she doesn’t even need to hear him confirm it. But then he does, stumbling over his words in a rush to apologize.

“Jo, I—God, I messed up. It was a mistake, okay? It—it only happened once, I swear.”

For a second, she just stares at him, her mind short-circuiting as it processes the words. Her heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, cracking with every beat, and yet she somehow still finds the strength to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. She gives him a look then, one that she knows has to cut deep.

“Why are you still lying?” she asks, her voice quieter now, but sharper, trembling at the edges. “I looked through your texts. You’ve been seeing her since September.”

The tears in her eyes blur her vision slightly, but she can still see the way his face falls completely at her words. His mouth opens, like he’s about to defend himself, about to deny it or say something—anything—that might patch up the gaping wound he’s just ripped open. But no words come out. Jo can tell he’s scrambling now, reaching for an explanation, a lifeline, but nothing comes.

Jo lets out a small, bitter laugh that feels foreign to her, a sound so unlike the person she usually is. Her body feels cold, her chest hollow, like everything inside her has been scooped out and left her with nothing but this raw, gnawing ache.

Her voice wavers as she speaks again, the tears finally slipping free, her composure fracturing under the weight of it all. “If you wanted to break up for college, we could’ve. You could’ve just told me that long distance would be too hard and you wanted to see other people. I would’ve—I would’ve understood.” Her voice cracks at the end, and she hates how small she sounds, how stupid she feels. She’s giving him too much credit, too much grace, but she doesn’t know how to be any other way.

“You didn’t have to cheat on me,” she continues, her voice rising a little now, her hurt spilling over into anger, “and then—then pretend like you still love me.”

The tears come faster now, hot and unrelenting, but she doesn’t wipe them away. She lets them fall, lets him see the full weight of what he’s done.

Asher steps toward her then, closing the space between them, his hands reaching out as if to comfort her. “Jo,” he says desperately. “I do love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking in love with you, okay? I just—” he pauses, choking before continuing, “—you weren’t around, and I was missing you so much, and you’ve been so busy with basketball—”

She steps back before he can touch her, shaking her head, her voice cutting through his excuses. “—when then gives you the right to have sex with another girl? To tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?”

Her words seem to hit him like a physical blow, his face paling as he shuts up. Jo doesn’t stop, though. Her voice is sharp now, full of a fury she rarely ever allows herself to feel.

“I saw the texts,” she says again, now shoving the phone back into his hands. Her breath hitches as another sob escapes her throat. “It doesn’t really seem like you still love me when you’re talking to someone else like that.”

Jo feels the air in her lungs grow heavier. The hallway is too quiet, every sound—her shallow breaths, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead—feels deafening in the stillness between them. Asher stares at her, his lips once again parting and closing uselessly, trying to find words that might somehow undo all of this.

“Jo, please,” he says finally, his voice thin and frantic, like he’s clutching at straws. “It didn’t mean anything—she doesn’t mean anything. I was lonely, okay? I was missing you so much, Jo, so much, and I just—I made a mistake. A huge mistake. But it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

His words hit her like a stab to the chest. The sheer audacity of them leaves her feeling sick, like her body can’t keep up with the reality of what’s happening.

“Why would anyone do this to someone they love?” she asks slowly.

Asher shakes his head, stepping toward her again, but Jo takes another step back, hitting the wall. She’s never felt so trapped—trapped between the ghost of what they were and the cruelness of what they’ve become.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly, desperate to make her understand. “You were always on my mind, Jo. You’re always on my mind. But you weren’t there, and I was—God, I was so fucking stupid.”

Her chest tightens, a sob clawing it’s way up her throat. “You knew I wouldn’t be there!” she says loudly. “You knew since I committed nearly two years ago! That’s why I’m saying you could’ve just broken up with me before we both went to college instead of doing—this!” She gestures to the phone in his hand, the tears still spilling freely down her cheeks, mixing with her mascara. She probably looks insane.

Asher takes another step closer, and Jo flinches without meaning to. She sees the way his face crumples at her reaction.

“Jo, I’m sorry,” he says pleadingly. “I’ll do anything—anything to make it up to you. Please, baby, I’ll never talk to her again. I’ll block her, I’ll delete her number, I’ll—”

Jo cuts him off, shaking her head violently. “It’s not about Brooke!” she cries, the name tearing through her like glass. “It’s about you! It’s about the fact that you lied to me, that you betrayed me, that you’ve been doing this for months! It’s about the fact that you’ve made me feel like I’m not even enough for you anymore.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says weakly.

Jo lets out a noise between a laugh and a sob. “Well, you did,” she tells him firmly.

She doesn’t know when she starts crying harder, but suddenly, her body is wracked with sobs, her chest heaving as everything she’s been holding in comes pouring out. She can hardly even breathe.

And then Asher’s dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching for here. “Jo, baby, please,” he begs, tears forming in his own eyes. “Please, let me make it up to you. I’ll transfer if you want me to—I’ll come here, be closer. I just—I love you. I love you so much. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose us.”

His hands are warm against hers, but she barely feels it through the numbness creeping into her limbs. She stares down at him, her vision blurred with tears, and for a moment, she thinks about all the years they spent together. When they were younger, when they were older. Every moment, every memory—they flash before her eyes like a cruel montage of everything they’ll never be again.

Jo pulls her hands away from his, her chest aching like it’s being ripped in half. Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, but it’s absolute. “No matter what, I’ll never be able to trust you again,” she says, the finality of her words settling heavily between them. “I can’t have a relationship with no trust, Ash. I love you—I’ve always loved you—but I can’t do it. I can’t.”

The words ring out and, for a moment, they stay where they are. And then Jo turns and opens the door to the apartment. Her fingers tremble against the knob as she pushes it open, but she doesn’t stop. She can feel the way Asher stands from his knees behind her, hovering a mix of desperate and disbelief radiating off him like a suffocating heat. She steps inside, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her, and she doesn’t turn back to look at him when she hears his footsteps following her.

“Jo, please,” Asher says again, his voice cracking, the way it always does when he’s on the verge of tears. “Let’s just—keep talking, okay? I’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t do this.”

But there’s nothing left to talk about. Not now. Not after everything.

Jo’s head pounds as she crosses the room, her eyes scanning for the things he’ll need to leave. His coat is slung on the back of one of the chairs, and his keys and wallet sit on the table. She grabs both, her hands shaking, and turns back to him.

“Asher,” she says, raw and unsteady, “please.” She holds out the coat and keys to him, her arm outstretched like it’s the only way she can keep any distance between them. “If you love me like you say you do, please leave. Please.”

He doesn’t take them at first. He just stands there, staring at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes that make him look younger than he is, like the boy she used to know. Her next-door neighbor, the boy who used to race her to the ice cream truck every summer. The boy who brought her flowers from his mom’s garden the first time he asked her to a school dance in eighth grade, nervously holding them out to her like they were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. The boy who kissed her on the Ferris wheel, telling her he’d never seen anything prettier than the way the lights reflected in her eyes.

Jo thought that boy was perfect.

But now, that boy is clearly gone.

“So this is really it?” Asher asks, his voice barely a whisper. He finally takes the coat and keys from her, his movements slow, almost mechanical, like he’s not fully in his body. His words hang in the air, heavy and final, and Jo feels like they have hands and they’re suffocating her.

She bites her lip hard, the metallic tang of blood sharp on her tongue. A sob claws at her throat, but she swallows it down, refusing to let it out. Because—God—she doesn’t want this to be it. She doesn’t want to end this chapter of her life, doesn’t want to say goodbye to the person who’s been by her side through everything. She thinks about all the time they’ve spent together, the endless summers of childhood spent chasing fireflies in their backyards, the countless nights they stayed up late talking about everything and nothing. She thinks about the way he used to cheer for her at every basketball game, the way his laugh uses to make her feel like the world wasn’t so big and scary.

But then she thinks about the texts. Brooke. The lies. The betrayal. The pain of knowing that the person she loved most in the world didn’t love her enough to stay faithful. And she knows—she knows—that she can’t stay with him. Not after this.

So, with a terrible, gut-wrenching finality, Jo forces herself to meet his eyes. Seafoam. She’ll never look at them the same again. “Yeah,” she tells him. “It is.”

Asher flinches like she’s just slapped him, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something else, like he’s going to keep fighting. But then his shoulders sag, and the fight leaves his body all at once. He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, and the sheer heartbreak in his expression nearly undoes her.

Jo takes a shaky breath and steps toward the door, her movements stiff and unnatural, like her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. She holds the door open and watches as Asher hesitates, lingering in the threshold like he’s waiting for her to change her mind.

“Um,” she starts, staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I’m not gonna be back in Boston for break. I’ll be on that ski trip with my family. So, uh, when they get back, you just… you get your stuff from the house and bring mine back to them, okay?”

For a long, excruciating moment, Asher just stands there, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then, finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

He steps out into the hallway, and Jo closes the door behind him with trembling hands. The moment the latch clicks into place, she presses her back against the door, her knees nearly buckling. She buried her face in her hands and keys the sobs come.

PAIGE LIES in Celeste’s bed, staring at the ceiling, her body tangled in soft sheets that smell faintly of sex and Celeste’s perfume. The room is dark except for the faint orange glow of the streetlamp outside the window, cutting through the blinds and casting uneven stripes across her skin. Celeste is already asleep, her breathing slow and steady beside her, an arm draped lazily over Paige’s stomach.

The weight of the arm feels suffocating. The room feels too still, too warm, and Paige can feel the alcohol from earlier churning in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much she drank until she laid down, the world tilting slightly when she closed her eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but the growing nausea.

Her phone sits on the nightstand, and she reaches for it, squinting at the brightness when the screen lights up. 3:08 AM. Jo and Asher should be asleep by now, she thinks. The thought is a small relief, though she hates that it’s on her mind at all. When she’d come here earlier—straight from Ted’s—it wasn’t just for Celeste’s company. It was to avoid them. Avoid the sight of them fueled up on the couch, or worse, the sound of them behind Jo’s closed bedroom door.

But lying here now, with the alcohol making her stomach roil and Celeste’s soft breathing only amplifying the pounding in her head, Paige knows she can’t stay. She hates being sick, hates it even more when it happens in someone else’s space.

Carefully, she moves Celeste’s arm off of her, sliding out of bed with practiced quiet. She pulls on her jeans and shirt, then her coat, then slips on her sneakers and grabs her phone. By the time she’s in the hallway, she’s regretting every drink she had tonight.

The walk back to the apartment feels endless. The streets are deserted, the air sharp and cold against her flushed skin. She shoves her hands into her coat pockets, her breath visible in the air. Her head spins with every step, her stomach twisting tighter and tighter until—without much warning—she’s doubled over, throwing her guts up into a bush. It’s humiliating, even though no one’s there to see it.

But after, she feels marginally better. Her legs are still shaky, and her throat burns, but the nausea ebbs, replaced by exhaustion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, cursing herself under her breath, and resumes the walk home.

When she gets to the apartment, it’s quiet. Thank God. She lets herself in carefully, taking care not to let the door slam, and moves toward the bathroom in the dark. She brushes her teeth quickly before going to her bedroom. There, she toes off her shoes, drops her phone onto her own nightstand, and collapses into bed. The sheets are cold, her pillow soft, and she burrows into them, hoping sleep will come quickly.

It doesn’t.

Instead, Paige ends up staring at her phone, her thumb absently scrolling through TikTok, then Instagram, then TikTok again.

It’s probably a half hour later when she hears footsteps outside her room. She doesn’t think much of it, only registers that Jo and Asher are awake. She thinks she hears the apartment door open, but she can’t really tell. She just resumes her scrolling.

Maybe another twenty minutes pass before she hears the door reopen. There are voices this time, too—Jo and Asher’s. They’re too low to make out what they’re saying, but there’s something off about the tone.

Paige feels her stomach twist again, though this time it has nothing to do with alcohol.

She tries to ignore it, forcing herself to keep scrolling, but the voices continue. Then, suddenly, the sound of the apartment door shutting—loud enough to make her flinch.

Paige sits up in bed. She stares at her closed bedroom door, debating. Curiosity—and something heavier—wins out. Slowly, cautiously, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands.

The floor is cold beneath her bare feet as she crosses to the door. She hesitates for a moment, hand on the knob, before turning it and pulling the door open. She steps into the hallway, walking slowly at first, unsure of what to expect. But as she rounds the corner, the sight in front of her makes her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Jo is pressed against the front door, her back flat against it as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her face is buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling with sobs that Paige can hear from a few feet away. The sound cuts through her like a knife, raw and unrelenting.

Paige’s stomach drops, dread pooling deep and cold inside her. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Jo cry, and not even the panic attack she had before the first game of the season looked like this. The sight freezes her for a second, but then she’s moving, instinctively, her feet carrying her closer without hesitation.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice a little unsteady as she steps in front of her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She hates seeing Jo like this, hates the helplessness it churns up in her. Jo’s supposed to sunshine and rainbows and butterflies and happiness. Seeing her like this, crumpled and sobbing, feels wrong, like the world has tilted off its axis.

Paige notices, too, that Asher is nowhere to be found, and her stomach knots tighter at the implication. There are only a few reasons why Jo would be crying like this in the middle of the night, and Paige doesn’t like any of the possibilities running through her mind.

She steps closer, only inches away from Jo. She gently reaches out to tug Jo’s hands away from her face. The brunette resists at first, her fingers curling tighter, as if she’s trying to shield herself from the world. But Paige persists, her touch gentle but firm, until Jo lets her pull them down.

She looks wrecked, utterly and completely undone. Her mascara is streaked across her cheeks, smudging into the skin where her tears have carved wet paths. Her lips are trembling, and her eyes—red-rimmed and glassy—hold a look of devastation that Paige has never seen before.

Paige’s stomach drops a little. This isn’t just a bad night. This is something worse.

“Joey,” Paige says again, her voice soft but coaxing. “Joey, talk to me. What happened?”

Jo shakes her head violently, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. “I feel so stupid,” she chokes out.

Paige’s protective instincts kick in hard, a fierce surge of anger and worry burning in her chest. Jo is her best friend, and Paige can’t stand seeing her like this, so small and hurt and vulnerable. It makes her want to fix it, to fix everything, to hunt down whatever or whoever made Jo feel like this and give them a piece of her mind.

“You’re not stupid,” Paige says quickly, her hands moving to Jo’s face. She cups her cheeks gently, her thumbs brushing over the tears as they fall, even though it’s futile. The tears keep coming, harder and faster, and Jo’s sobs are so harsh now that Paige worries she’s going to make herself sick.

“Jo,” Paige whispers, her tone soothing, steady. “Joey, you’re not stupid. Just tell me what happened. Please.”

Jo looks at her then, and the brokenness in her expression hits Paige like a tidal wave. Jo’s breaths are short and uneven, catching in her throat as she struggles to speak. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she manages to force out a choked answer:

“He’s been cheating on me since September.”

Paige isn’t sure how to react at first. Not because she doesn’t care—no, she cares too much—but because it feels incomprehensible. Asher? Cheating? On Jo? It’s like trying to convince herself the sky isn’t blue or that the sun doesn’t rise in the east. Jo is the kind of person who radiates light, who gives more than she takes, who makes everyone around her better by simply existing. The idea that anyone—anyone, let alone Asher, who Jo has loved since they were kids—could betray her like this? Paige’s chest tightens, a painful knot forming deep inside her.

“Oh, Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice breaking. She steps forward without thinking, wrapping her arms around Jo and pulling her in close. Jo is stiff at first, her body trembling like she’s holding herself together by a thread. But then she leans into Paige, her arms coming around her back, and she crumples completely.

The sobs come harder now, racking Jo’s body as she buries her face in Paige’s shoulder. Paige can feel her shirt dampening with tears, but she doesn’t care. Not even a little. All that matters is keeping Jo held together in this moment when she clearly feels like she’s falling apart. Paige’s chin rests against Jo’s hair, and she squeezes her tighter, as if that might somehow protect her from all of this—might take away the pain.

Her mind flashes to Asher, and the anger that surges through her is immediate, white-hot, and consuming. How the fuck could he do this? Asher, who seemed to adore Jo, who, just earlier tonight, had looked at her like the world revolved around her. He’s the guy everyone thought Jo would marry, the guy Paige didn’t want to like because of her own feelings for Jo but begrudgingly respected because he seemed like he loved her. Paige’s fists clench at the thought of him, the betrayal he’s inflicted on someone so good, so perfect.

Jo pulls back just enough to speak, her voice trembling through the sobs. “I just—I don’t get it,” she chokes out. Her hands are fisted in the back of Paige’s shirt now, clutching at her like she’s a lifeline. “He never seemed like—he would do that. He was never distant or anything. I—I don’t know. It’s just—it’s been us forever. He’s—he’s literally all I know.”

Paige closes her eyes for a moment, biting back her own emotions. She knows this—of course she knows this. Jo and Asher are the couple everyone compares themselves to, the pair who grew up together, who went to prom together, who everyone thought would get married and have a picturesque life together. Paige knows this betrayal isn’t just about the cheating—it’s about the loss of something Jo has held onto her entire life.

And as much as Paige didn’t want to like Asher, she can’t deny that even tonight, when they were all together, he seemed so in love with Jo. He didn’t seem like the type to cheat. Then again, Paige thinks bitterly, a lot of them don’t.

Paige hesitates, her voice careful. “Did you…?” She doesn’t have to finish the question; Jo knows what she’s asking.

Jo nods against Paige’s shoulder, her tears warm against Paige’s skin. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I broke up with him.”

Paige lets out a slow breath, one she didn’t realize she was holding. She always thought if this moment ever came, she’d feel something else—relief, maybe even happiness. She thought it would mean she finally had a chance with Jo, that the door might crack open. But as Jo sobs in her arms, as her heartbreak bleeds out into the quiet hallway, Paige feels none of that.

Because Jo isn’t happy. She’s broken, and Paige would rather suffer her unrequited feelings forever than see Jo like this. All she’s ever truly wanted is for Jo to be happy, to be the kind of happy that lights up her eyes and makes her laugh the way she does when she’s teasing Paige. This? This is not that.

Paige pulls back just enough so they’re face to face. Her hands come up to Jo’s cheeks once more, cradling her face gently. Jo’s eyes are red and swollen, tears still spilling over. Paige’s thumbs brush over her cheeks, wiping away some of the tears, though they’re still coming faster than she can catch them.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice low and firm, “you are the most beautiful, selfless, talented, smart person I’ve ever fucking met. You don’t deserve any of this, okay? He doesn’t deserve you. Not even close.” She shakes her head slightly, her throat tightening as she continues. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

Jo nods slowly, her breath hitching as she tries to calm down, but the tears are still there, streaming down her face.

Eventually, Paige convinces Jo to come with her, leading the brunette to her bedroom, keeping a steady hand on the small of her back as they navigate the dark hallway. Paige can feel the exhaustion radiating off of her in waves—emotional, physical, every kind of tired there is. She figures Jo doesn’t want to go to her own room, where everything probably still smells like Asher. And Paige figures Jo doesn’t want to be alone, either. That much is obvious in the way she stays close, almost leaning into Paige as they walk.

Once inside Paige’s room, Jo hesitates by the bed, looking small in a way Paige isn’t used to seeing. Jo’s always been the kind of person who fills up a space just by being in it—confident, easygoing, happy. Now, she’s quiet and folded into herself, arms crossed protectively over her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. Paige doesn’t like it.

“Stay here for a sec, yeah?” Paige says softly, her voice careful, like she’s afraid to push Jo too far or say the wrong thing. Jo nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and Paige slips out of the room.

She goes to the bathroom first, grabbing some makeup wipes from the cabinet. Her mind races as she moves, filled with anger toward Asher, with concern for Jo, with guilt that a small, selfish part of her is glad to have Jo here, with her, instead of with him.

On her way back, she detours into Jo’s room just long enough to grab the emotional support stuffed animal—Bubbles. She tucks the little turtle under her arm and heads back to her room.

Jo hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting there, looking at her hands, the way her fingers twist together nervously. Paige kneels in front of her, setting Bubbles aside for now. She doesn’t say anything at first; she just takes one of the makeup wipes and gently starts to clean the streaks of mascara from Jo’s face. Jo blinks in surprise, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips.

“I could’ve done it myself,” Jo mumbles, her voice thick and uneven.

“I know,” Paige says simply, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at her own lips.

It’s a quiet, intimate thing, wiping away Jo’s makeup. Paige works slowly, carefully, brushing over her skin with a tenderness she hopes Jo can feel. When she’s finished, she tosses the wipes aside into her mini trash can and hands Jo the stuffed turtle.

Jo takes Bubbles with both hands, clutching him close to her chest. There’s a tiny moment of relief in Paige’s chest when Jo actually smiles a little at the sight of him. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.

Paige climbs onto the bed beside her, hesitating for a second. The air between them feels heavy, uncertain. Jo curls up on her side, facing away from Paige, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she should leave her alone, give her space. But before she can decide, Jo’s voice breaks through the silence, shaky and fragile.

“Can you—can you just hold me?”

Paige’s heart clenches. Of course. Of course, she can. “Yeah,” she says softly, already shifting closer.

She slides in behind Jo, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hand comes to rest gently on Jo’s stomach, fingers brushing over the fabric of her shirt in smooth, soothing patterns. Paige doesn’t think much about it; she just does what feels natural. Her face ends up close to the back of Jo’s neck, and she can feel the faint hitch in Jo’s breathing, the way it stutters each time another quiet sob escapes her.

Every time Jo shakes or cries, Paige instinctively tightens her hold, pulling her closer, letting her know she’s there. Jo doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Paige. The silence is filled with the faint rustle of the blankets, the sound of their breathing.

Paige focuses on the rise and fall of Jo’s chest, on the feeling of her heartbeat beneath her hand. It’s comforting, in a way, even though everything about the situation feels wrong. Jo deserves better than this—better than Asher, better than heartbreak. And if Paige could take it all away, if she could somehow absorb all of Jo’s pain just to see her smile again, she would.

But all she can do is hold her, keep her safe in this moment. So she does. She stays there, tracing patterns on Jo’s stomach, her own breathing falling in time with Jo’s. Eventually, Jo’s crying slows, her breaths evening out into something softer, something closer to sleep. Paige doesn’t let go.

She feels her own eyelids growing heavy, the exhaustion of the day—and mostly the night—catching up to her. She doesn’t remember exactly when she drifts off, but the last thing she’s aware of is the warmth of Jo in her arms, the quiet sound of her breathing, and the hope that maybe things will feel a little better in the morning.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers series #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #wcbb x reader #ncaa wbb #wlw #nobody gets me

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roosterforme · 4 months ago

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I just saw the post about Darlin joking about him using a walker if they had a third baby.

I feel like Jake would have a real big doubt and guilt in himself one night about being too old for her. Maybe one day they're playing with their boys when the two are maybe like 6 and 3 and Darlin says she misses them being really small and now they kick and squeall when they get kisses because it's like icky.

That night maybe Jake is sitting on the side of the bed as Darlin gets in and she senses something is wrong and he asks her if she was with a younger guy would she have more kids as he feels he's holding her back. He definitely has a bit of self doubt as the daggers always tease him about being the old man of the house.

Btw love I adore your little blurbs for this fam. Today is probably the day I might catch up on a bunch but they are amazing 😍

Oh, ouch. Yes. It would hit him sometimes that maybe certain things would be easier or better for you if you had a partner closer to your own age. (angsty below)

Your husband was one week away from turning forty-seven, and he just absolutely rocked your world in bed. "I like it when you do that thing with your tongue," you whispered, staring up at the ceiling as he sat on the edge of the bed, naked.

His back was to you now, but you heard him chuckle. "And I like it when you do that thing with your tongue."

You rolled toward him and groaned. You were going to be sore tomorrow. "I'll go check on the boys before we go to sleep," you said, kissing him when you stood.

After your robe was securely tied, you walked quietly in to check on both Liam and Asher who were sound asleep. Then you went back to your bedroom where Jake had barely moved an inch.

"They looked extra cute when they're asleep and not fighting over Legos or eating all of the food in the kitchen," you mused, dropping your robe again. "I kind of miss when they were tiny and didn't know how to argue."

Jake cleared his throat. "Would you want to have another baby? If you could?"

You stared at him, unable to read the expression on his handsome face. It was closed off. And you were confused.

"I don't understand," you told him, placing your hands nervously on your hips, suddenly very aware of how naked you were.

"Just answer me. Would you have wanted more than two? Would you have wanted to try for a girl?"

You swallowed hard and shook your head slowly. "You got a vasectomy. I wouldn't even be able to get pregnant again."

Jake ducked his head and looked at the floor. "I wanted the vasectomy, because I'm already the oldest parent in Asher's school pick up line."

You took a step closer. "Who cares about that? You're also the hottest dad in Asher's school pick up line."

He looked up at you and whispered, "Will you just answer the question?"

"I already did!" you snapped. "We decided about the vasectomy together. Last year. You didn't make the decision alone, Jake." His eyes were fixed on your face as you said, "I have never once looked at you and thought you were too old to do anything. I didn't want more kids. Some days I can barely handle the two we have."

You burst into tears, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned to get your robe from the floor again. Jake's arms were around you, pulling you toward the bed, and you let him take you there. "I didn't mean to make you cry, Darlin'," he whispered. "I just hate the idea that I could be holding you back."

"You're not," you sobbed, face buried against his neck as he pulled the covers over both of you. "All you do is make everything better. The boys and I woudn't want it any other way."

Jake held you until you felt calmer, his fingers trailing up and down your arm. "I won't doubt my wife again," he whispered, turning off the lamp.

"Don't you dare."

You fell asleep to the sound of the ocean and the feel of Jake's big hand on your back.

#if you ask emily #jake seresin x reader #fake it til you jake it #fake it til you jake it hc

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aimedis · 5 months ago

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redacted asmr hcs pt.8 - shaw pack edition

-milo and asher have had a super complicated handshake since high school (tried to teach it to david but he was not having it)

-milo and sweetheart are the type to bully kids on roblox

-sam and darlin’ will start giggling to each other about literally nothing (milo and sweetheart as well)

-sweetheart and milo insult and fight with each other all day (the first time the pack heard sweetheart call him a bitch and milo just laughed, they all freaked out because milo never takes insults from people) ((milo and sweetheart swing at each other even while sweetheart’s cloaked and they giggle the whole time)) (((milo: “don’t even try it, you brat. i’ll beat your ass”)))

-angel is one of the smartest in the pack (sometimes smarter than david in certain areas) ((during pack trivia they beat him for first place and he glared at them for all of ten seconds))

-angel gets progressively more irritable the more hungry or tired they are (like a toddler) and david points it out because he thinks it’s cute (angel: “can you like shut up? you’re starting to piss me off” david, smirking in amusement: “I think you’re just hungry” angel: “say that to me again and you lose your head”)

-angel has anger issues (more like easily irritated) it just takes a lot for them to show it

-sometimes for date night, asher and baabe just put on comfy socks and clothes and make pillow forts to sit in while they watch crappy tv shows to giggle at

-milo and sweetheart are horribly possessive when it comes to anyone outside of the pack and sometimes even within the pack (not in a toxic way) ((milo: “touch them again and i’ll rip your hand off” / sweetheart: “unless you want your entire upper body to go invisible for the rest of the night, get your hands off of my mate”))

-asher spends the entire summer solstice pouting and whining into baabe’s chest while they rub his back and occasionally give him little massages where it hurts

-david covers angel’s face for them when they yawn in public (he also does it when they make questionable faces or if they start crying around other people, he’ll cover their face for them) ((he does it so often that angel doesn’t think to do those things on their own anymore when david’s not around))

-sam and darlin’ play the “that’s a body”/“that’s cheating” game with things they’ve very well done

-in shifter culture, wolves pressing their foreheads together is a very intimate but casual show of affection and it really means a lot when shifters do it to a non-shifter (most shaw wolves have done it to the non-shifter mates at this point)

-darlin’ loves sam’s hands on their face (they close their eyes and lean heavily against him)

-asher and baabe are literally johnny and mavis

-darlin’ has learned to lean on sam (metaphorically and literally) they take the hand he offers when they need it to keep balance when with anyone else they would’ve denied it ((the wolf bois were understandably shocked))

-david hates straight black coffee but he insists on having it all the time. angel on the other hand proudly drinks their sugary milky coffee and david steals sips from it all the time (claims it tastes better coming from them so they don’t bother getting him their regular)

-darlin’ cracks all the crackable bones in their body (back, fingers, neck, ankles etc.) and it drives sam insane because he can hear it so clearly

-when milo was younger, marie would run her finger between milo’s eyebrows and down his nose to remind him to relax whenever he made a face so he didn’t get a line on his forehead (she still does it and she does it to sweetheart as well)

-david can tell when angel is in a bad mood within seconds, he can just feel it without even seeing them (he'll randomly text them "are you okay?" and they're like "how did you-")

-milo gets really cold on the summer solstice and sweetheart gets really hot (milo clings onto sweetheart the whole day and sweetheart let’s him no matter how sweaty and agitated they are) ((fanfic idea??))

-darlin’ gets mad when they’re bored

-darlin’ is really really good at pretending things don’t hurt (physically or emotionally)

-whenever david gets really angry at darlin', he starts acting like them (they are so siblings)

-david thrives off of knowing how flustered he makes angel with no effort (he looks into their eyes for a second too long and their face flushes/they smile nervously and turn away)

-angel being an angry jealous and asher being a pouty jealous (rarely)

-despite being a wolf, asher sneezes like a kitten. david's sneezes are a nuclear bomb

-david and asher being childhood best friends, have had their fair share of arguments but one of the big ones was surprisingly, not during the period of gabe's death but almost immediately after they both got off their honeymoons. they had a pretty bad argument that milo and darlin' somehow got roped into (they weren't ganging up on one or two people really, it was a free for all) -the argument was bad but because they're all as close as they are, it wasn't tense afterwards

-david and milo bicker quite often, as do sam and sweetheart

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted david #redacted milo #redacted asher #redacted angel #redacted babe #redacted sweetheart #redacted shaw pack #redacted fluff #redacted headcanons #i'll do couple specific headcanons soon #kae's headcanons

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undying-love · 5 months ago

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Hi!! Could you make a compilation of all the times their relationship is compared to a marriage (or something similar), either by them or by people close to them?

"Marriage", "love affair", "girlfriend", "wife", etc: A Compilation

“I think it was like he was married to Paul. And now he was married to me so it was like a situation that he didn’t feel like he wanted to go back." (Yoko Ono)

"Why this odd little Japanese lady? The reason, many people believed, was that more than a trophy wife, a model or an actress, John needed a chum. His love affair with Paul McCartney was ending." (Peter Brown)

“That’s very hard to delve into. They were great friends, and had great mutual respect, but they were also quite different from one another. I don’t know. Human relationships are tough to analyze. It’s like trying to talk about someone else’s marriage.” (Peter Asher)

“I still think at the back of John’s mind was this fascination of wanting to get back with the first girlfriend... and that was to get back with Paul, who he had so much history with.” (Tony Barrow)

"It's like a marriage. These two broke up. And it took Paul a long time to get over it. John too, but he was just too macho to show it. But they had a marriage before Yoko arrived, although they both had girlfriends before." (Ray Connolly)

"It [Mick and Keith's relationship] had all the irrationally and passion of a love affair. Lennon and McCartney had a similar bond between them." (Marianne Faithfull)

"Paul and John kind of knew that they were growing apart, and Let It Be was almost like a marriage that’s failing, and they wanna go on their date nights again" (Giles Martin)

"There’s no hard feelings or anything, but you just don’t hang around with your ex-wife. We’ve completely finished." (Paul)

"Then also we were like married, so you got the bitterness. It’s not a woman scorned this time, it’s two men scorned — probably even worse. And I had to make way for Yoko. My relationship with John could not have remained as it was and Yoko feel secure.” (Paul)

"It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship [with Yoko], he had to put this other one away." (Paul)

"I've compared to a marriage a million times and I hope it's… understandable. For people that aren't married. Or any relationship. It was a LONG relationship." (John)

"With Yoko present, Paul's reign as Lennon's princess was doomed."(Peter McCabe)

"In a marriage, or a love affair...there comes a point where the marriage collapses because they can’t face that reality, and they go seeking what they thought they should be having, still, somewhere else. I get a new girl, it’ll all be like that again; I get a new boy… But for all marriages, all couples, it’ll all be the same again. But what you lose is what you put into that… relationship." (John)

"..an old, estranged fiancée of mine called Paul." (John)

"Paul and John were emotional partners in a powerful, creative and loving way." (Paul Saltzman)

"Julian and Sean had lost a father; Cynthia, her knight in shining armour; Yoko, a fellow artist, contemporary and house husband … and Paul? Well, call me crazy, but he lost the wife. I’m certainly not implying anything of a carnal nature here, but to almost all intents and purposes (as John would have put it), what they had was a marriage.” (Ruth Mccartney)

"When John and Paul split up (think of them as a couple for a moment) their second mates had to stand by them." (Francie Schwartz)

"For a reason to hold a grudge [against Yoko], think about the possibility of this: She took John from him. And she didn't particularly want to share John with his "ex significant other" on certain levels." (Francie Schwartz)

#mclennon #compilation #pretty much everyone said it

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tommytomatoe · 7 months ago

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this is the wolf boys reaction to their mates acting like someone wants to fight them over the phone:

babe and asher

babe: “oh, you wanna fight? for real? okay, lets go. let’s do it, my place. i’ll send you my address right now.”

asher: “woah what?”

babe: “yeah, i’ll be here. i can’t wait to watch my boyfriend beat that bitch ass smile off your face.”

asher: “huh?”

babe: “what? you don’t want to fight for me? for my honor?”

asher: “no i do, but like, who is that? what’d they do to destroy your honor?”

babe: “you’re asking too many questions, ash. they’re already on their way.”

asher: “what’s my motive though?”

babe: “they’re an asshole.”

asher: “good enough. oh- tell them i’m over six feet!”

sweetheart and milo

sweetheart: “really? okay yeah no let’s just fight this shit out. i’m sick of you, i’ll send my address now. my boyfriends gonna tear you a fucking new one.”

milo: “hell right i am, who the fuck is that?”

milo proceeds to grab sweethearts phone, swearing profusely into in only to hear the other mates cackling on the other line

milo: “oh, oh you’re real fucking funny. is this one of you guys’ little pranks again?”

sweetheart: “yeah, we just wanted to see how you guys would react.”

milo: “well, did i, um, act accordingly?”

sweetheart: “our first date was you killing a shade for me, i didn’t expect anything less.”

angel, on the other line still listening: “your first date was a what?!”

angel and david

angel: “let’s do it then. you wanna act like that then put your money where your mouth is. come over now, let’s end this. my boyfriends gonna kill you.”

david: “angel, what the actual fuck?”

angel: “i need you to beat this man’s ass for me.” david: “what’d he do?”

angel: “he’s being a total asshole.”

david: “and he’s coming over?”

angel: “yep.”

david: “now?”

angel: “you don’t wanna fight for me?”

david: “baby, i’ll fight for you but i’m just a little lost.”

darlin: “i’m not. when’s he gonna be here, i’ll start digging a hole now.”

angel: “awww thanks hon.”

david: “how the fuck did you get into my house?”

darlin: “window :)”

TLDR; mates play prank, wolf boys go "huh?"

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junochako · 3 days ago

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I needed this audio so bad

Spoilers for newest audio !!!!!!

I didn’t know I needed this audio….. GAMING WITHTHE PACK AUGHH 😭😭😭

Darlin’ pov 😋

And they main Francis, known by the rest of the pack.

David is a crotchety old man 😭

“I’m literally a month younger than you, Ash.”

“Well, you’d never guess. Now, everyone correctly assumes Milo is the baby of the crew.” CONFIRMED AGES ! Asher > David > Darlin’(?) > Milo. Darlin’ could be older than Ash or David if you think that.

Asher: “PUT GRAMPS ON THE MIC!”

SAM KISS !!!!!!!! NOBODY MOVE WE KISSED SAM

Their little commentary on the way they play 😭 and the game telling them to stay together to survive

“We’re coming to save ya buddy!!!” Ash is so silly goofy

Ash saying adrenaline might be a bad thing considering how they run ahead and Milo saying they’ll “come running back after they piss off something big” 😭

The bickering!!!!!!! Asher and Darlin’ best friend agenda!!!!

Helpp them staying silent when they’re being attacked 😭😭 I think I heard Milo mention them being on mute

Darlin’ may be the opposite of me cuz I’m not a silent player at all I will start rambling if I’m afraid or being attacked

Milo’s “You are NASTY, Ash.” Had the best delivery in this video

Darlin’ immediately going for the witch after David just suggested avoiding her

I like the little moments where they mention helping/covering Darlin’ when they’re injured ….. hehe I love pack dynamic stuff

I love David just letting Asher call him “big guy”

“No melee weapons… in my Left 4 Dead 1!” HES SO CUTE 😭😭😭

Asher: “Speedrunnn! Follow that biker!”

Darlin’ playing Francis all the time as a kid is cute because I always headcanoned that they wanted to be a biker when they grew up

Darlin’ is just going all in and I love them for it cuz that takes a courage I don’t have… especially if you’re dealing with zombies

DARLIN SHOOTING THE CAR HELPPP and after David said not to 😭

“What the hell are you doin?!”

“Hell yeah >:D”

“You absolute MENACE…”

MILO CALLING DARLIN’ A MENACE WE MADE IT

David’s “Some things never change 😒” and he has experience

Darlin’ trolling Milo is all I needed in life !!!!! And them not closing the door until an infected was right there 💀

“Alright, close the door. Hey, close the door!“

“You think you’re reeal funny don’t ya? 😒”

“And they’re right!”

Several shenanigans later…

Darlin’ immediately going ahead again 😭

David: “Apparently, we’re speed running again… 😑”

Asher: “Hey, wait up for the rest of us!”

Milo: “They’re looking to wrap this up so they can get back to the grampire.”

Sam: “I heard that!” (His lil icon appearing on screen 😭)

Asher: “Jesus, he really does have super hearing!”

Asher’s “thanks for the save!” 🫶🏻

Darlin’ shooting David by accident is so silly

“That was my head…” LMFAOOO

“Don’t you even start with me, beta-boy!” Is Milo just always Asher’s victim 😭

Asher sounded so worried when Darlin’ got knocked back … the babies

“Oh—oh shit, are you.. oh, okay good.”

I think Asher is so into it that he acts like he genuinely hurt someone 😭

“Shit, boomer! Oh fuck… it got on you, I’m sorry…”

“Oh, you’ll apologize to them. 😑”

THE OTHER BOOMER 😭

“The pack that wallows in vomit together, stays together!”

“Remind me to have you make the next Solstice speech…”

Is this Darlin’ on a sniper content

Darlin’ throws a pipe bomb an it hits Asher 😭

“I— Hey! You threw a pipe bomb at my head!”

“That just means they got good aim.”

Milo has such younger sibling energy and I’m so glad it’s confirmed. Also I’m lowkey surprised Asher is the oldest but he does give off goofy older brother

Also I know they have to stay together to survive but there were little moments where they just followed the lead of Darlin’ and stood in one spot to defend each other and I think it’s super cute… like an actual wolf pack would just stay together in one place to defend each other

#can you tell I love rambling and playing with the color options for text #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted darlin #redacted sam #redacted david #redacted asher #redacted milo #redacted shaw pack

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gardenschedule · 8 months ago

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Paul enabling John

In contrast to Paul wrangling John

“Later on, when I was sent downstairs to adjust a microphone, I heard them chatting excitedly about the upcoming appearance [the Royal Variety Performance]. They were over the moon about it, even though it was obvious that they didn’t care for upper-class people in general. Ever cheeky, John whispered to Paul at one point that he was going to ask the toffs in the audience to rattle their jewelry instead of applauding. Paul’s reply was a taunting “I dare ya!” That was the kind of relationship they had: John was the bad boy, the rebel, and Paul—who of course wouldn’t dream of saying that himself—was the instigator, the one needling him on to doing outrageous things.”

Geoff Emerick, Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of The Beatles

This angelic quality [of Paul’s face] was not necessarily always reflected in Paul’s behaviour. Hoffman noted that though in terms of verbal wit he could give as good as he got, Paul’s replies lacked the caustic edge of John’s words: “There was never really any bitterness in Paul.” Yet it seemed to the photographer that the vicious vitriol John would pour on often undeserving victims was quite evidently to Paul’s pleasure. “In a way Paul wallowed in it, because John always played up to his requirements. It’s a useful thing to have somebody like that, who’s capable of putting down people you don’t like.”

Dezo Hoffman, photographer

To John’s further delight, he discovered that Paul was corruptible. In no time, he groomed his young cohort to shoplift cigarettes and candy, as well as stimulating in him an appetite for pranks. On one occasion that still resonates for those involved, the Quarry Men went to a party in Ford, a village on the outskirts of Liverpool, out past the Aintree Racecourse. “John and Paul were inseparable that night, like Siamese twins,” says Charles Roberts, who met them en route on the upper deck of a cherry red Ripple bus. “It was like the rest of us didn’t exist.” They spent most of the evening talking, conducting a whispery summit in one corner, Roberts recalls. And it wasn’t just music on their agenda, but mischief. “In the middle of the party they went out, ostensibly looking for a cigarette machine, and appeared some time later carrying a cocky-watchman’s lamp.* The next morning, when it was time to leave, we couldn’t get out of the house because [they] had put cement stolen from the roadworks into the mortise lock so the front door wouldn’t open. And we had to escape through a window.”

The Beatles The Biography (Spitz, Bob)

Graham led us around the corner, where the Fab Four were hanging with their dates at a private table in the back of the room. Well, actually it was the Fab Three—George Harrison was not in attendance. […] The deal was, Lennon was actually under the table taking Polaroid pictures up the skirts of his female companions while Paul lent a hand. Ringo laughed at everything, and Paul’s then girlfriend, Jane Asher, was doing her best to drag him out of there. Dressed in Carnaby Street’s finest, the Beatles were dimly lit, and a halo of light illuminating their mop-top hairdos added just the right ambiance to make this already bizarre scene even more surreal. Paul was ducking under the table himself now, helping his business partner illuminate the proceedings with his disposable lighter, and Jane was searching the booth for her coat as we approached them, with Graham in the lead. “I’ll be leaving now, Paul,” Jane said through clenched teeth as she pushed her way out of the booth and stood there, staring him down.

Howard Kaylan of the Turtles, in his autobiography Shell Shocked

Several times I saw him whispering to Paul and George, and then he’d wave his hands about and act like a spastic—a cruel but very funny routine he did frequently in the studio. I guessed he was saying to them, “Watch this.” Clearly they were taking great delight in the knowledge that they could manipulate the audience any way they wanted to.'

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

George and Paul appear to have been slightly jealous of Stu and his influence with John, not that outsiders could see how much John admired Stu. John picked on Stu all the time and hurt him when he could. Paul, following John's lead, also began to pick on Stu, even though he was interested in art and, like John, was getting from Stu a lot of new ideas and fashions.

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

"I remember I had a girlfriend called Celia. I must have been 16 or 17, about the same age as her...we went out one evening and for some reason John tagged along, I can't remember why it was. I think he'd thought I was going to see him, I thought I'd cancelled it and he showed up at my house. But he was a mate, and he came on a date with this Celia girl, and at the end of the date she said, 'Why did you bring that dreadful guy?' And of course I said, 'Well, he's all right really.' And I think, in many ways, I always found myself doing that. It was always, 'Well, I know he was rude; it was funny, though, wasn't it?'"

Barry Miles, Many Years From Now, 1997

Thereafter, it was John and Paul who brought in all the new material; they assigned each musician his part, chose the songs, sequenced the sets—they literally dictated how rehearsals went down. “The rest of us hadn’t a clue as far as arrangements went,” Hanton says slowly. “And they seemed to have everything right there, at their fingertips, which was all right by me, because their ideas were good and I enjoyed playing with them.” But the two could be unforgiving and relentless. “Say the wrong thing, contradict them, and you were frozen out. A look would pass between them, and afterwards it was as if you didn’t exist.”

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

“Lennon had attitude, and, taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times, they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were ‘superior human beings’.”

Bob Wooler in Mark Lewisohn’s Tune In

"When John did 'How Do You Sleep?' I didn't want to get into a slinging match. Part of it was cowardice. John was a great wit, and I didn't want to go fencing with the rapier champion of East Cheam-- But it meant that I had to take shit--It meant that I had to take lines like 'All you ever did was Yesterday.' I always find myself wanting to excuse John's behavior, just because I loved him. It's like a child, sure he was a naughty child, but don't you call my child naughty. Even if it's me he's shitting on, don't you call him naughty. That's how I felt about this and still do. I don't have a grudge whatsoever against John. I think he knew exactly what he was doing, and, because we had been so intimate, he knew what would hurt me and used it to great effect. I thought, 'Keep your head down and time will tell,' and it did because in the 'Imagine' film (Imagine John Lennon, documentary), he says it was really all about himself."

Barry Miles, Many Years From Now, 1997

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #mean girls

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hogwartsstudentconfidential · 5 days ago

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Update Hogwarts Confidential

Hello my good people. It has been a very boring week. You all need to step up your game. But since there's less gossip there's going to be more updates and bs, cause why not.

Starting with this weekend is Ravenclaws final game of the season. In the game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is supposedly hosting a board game night tonight whether they win or lose so dress comfy and get ready for the most competitive board game night ever.

After board game night, Hogwarts will begin setting up for the loveliest holiday, Valentine's Day. We will have mini cupids and even house elves set up to deliver love letters and telegrams to send to those you love. Professor Slughorn has even convinced Dumbledore to allow anonymous telegrams to take place.

And since I have nothing else to write for announcements I guess we'll hop back into our weekly gossip.

Starting with this previous weekend Phoenix Harvey and Jamie Ho preformed at karaoke night, both showing up in the best suits ever, showing off their hot bodies (especially Phoenix, I mean I could cook a steak on those steamy abs), then ending the night with a steamy kiss. Just kidding, we all know it was two bros showing each other some love and I believe calling a small truce.

Speaking of Phoenix the boy seems to have met up with Ho’s stunning girlfriend, Anastasia Selwyn. The two were caught hanging out in the snow before disappearing off into the woods where I believe the two actually finally kissed. I think Ho has gotten a little too trusting with the two while he's away.

Congrats Mr. Ho on your quidditch interviews.

Now onto a totally different couple(?) Aspen Parker and Noah Montague seem to be getting really close. The two were seen mingling and might I say heavily flirting at karaoke night before disappearing together and I believe I saw Aspen making her way to the older boys dorm just last night.

And another couple- why are there so many couples? Do y'all actually like each other? What is going on- is love actually in the air?

And on to our final couple for this week (boring), Xenophilius and oh wait this isn't about their girlfriend, this is about their secret relationship with none other than Lucius Malfoy. Xenophilius and Lucius were caught talking and even confessing their feelings to one another. Xeno even going as far as feeling the need to break up with his new girlfriend, Pandora. The two concluded their confession with parting ways instead, the boys guilt becoming too much for him to break up with the girl. But to be honest I called this soooo long ago. Pandora, honey, get your man. Xeno, sweetie, get your shit together. Lucius, darling, stop trying to ruin Pandora's relationships.

Anyways that's all for this week! Catch ya next time on Hogwarts Confidential!

Tah Tah 💋

@james-the-amazing-potter @starlight-starbright-thatsme @looneymoonyy @wormy-loves-ch33se @mystical-magical-me @king-ofthe-crop @xeno-graphical @rodolphus-le-strange @averykissableguy @fire-allayer @poison-penmanship @lifeofthe-barty @whokilledevanrosier @pandoras-nox @little-king-official @cas-not-the-band @marls-mckinn0n @hjonesworld @mary-mcdeal @emmelineandhervans @sybill-patricia-trelawney @lilytheginger @alicethekindone @andromedashoax @the-queen-bellatrix @severusprince-snape @fabian-with-an-f @mollberryshortcake @fawningamos @k1ndest-keeper @aelius-with-a-quill @annajohn-silvae @adam-lukas-morningstar @imogenmorningstar @oxxen--free @camille-laurier @luciagraham @your-favourite-callie @addison-caddel @daughter-of-spring @magandang-kaluluwa @flyasaphoenix @tjsinclairofficial @secretlifeof-asher @toby-newtman-tics @bones-and-edgar @ted-the-teddy-tonks @scattered-across-thesky @alectocrow @lucius-malfoy-back

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lynzishell · 6 days ago

Text

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Asher: Atlas!! Ow… fuck.

Asher: Atlas! Atlas: What’s wrong? Asher: Check your email. We have a message from the clinic.

Atlas: Here it is. “See the attached for good news about your embryos :)”. Asher: Ohmygod. Atlas: Are you ready? Asher: Yes! Open it.

Atlas: Six! We have six healthy embryos. Asher: Six is good. And?

Atlas: Five female. Asher: Uh-huh? Atlas: And one male.

Asher: Holy shit.

Asher: [laugh-crying] He’s there.

Asher: What? What’s wrong? Did it say something else?

Atlas: Five females. Asher: Yeah? Atlas: At our next appointment, we’ll have to decide which ones we want to use. How do we choose? How are we supposed to know which one is Sadie?

Asher: Sadie? Where did you get that name? Atlas: From you. In the dream I had, after the temple, that’s what you called her. Asher: [smiles] Atlas: What?

Asher: That was grandmother’s name. Well, her name was Sarah, but everyone called her Sadie. I was really close to her when I was little. In fact, before she got sick, this used to be her room. On nights when I had trouble sleeping, rather than going across the hall to my parents’ room, I’d come in here with my pillow and blanket and sleep on the floor. Atlas: That’s cute.

Asher: Y’know, there was a part of me that wondered if we were reading too much into these dreams. I had this doubt lingering in the back of my mind that, even as strongly as I felt, there was a chance they weren’t… real. Atlas: And now? Asher: I don’t have any doubts anymore. If we trust our instincts, we’ll make the right choice.

Atlas: So, you’re okay with naming our daughter Sadie then? Asher: It’s perfect. Atlas: What about the boy?

Asher: I don’t know his name. Atlas: Well, we have time to figure it out. Asher: [sniffles] Yeah. Atlas: You okay? Asher: Just happy.

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #the goode life #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt5 #atlas goode #asher goode

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user211201 · 9 months ago

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Totally Normal

--- Originally posted on 2023-12-08 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Welcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!”

The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didn’t mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.

“My name’s DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.” A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. “I don’t dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.”

Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.

“The point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, I’m going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."

The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, *I *know what that thing is.”

Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. “So, let’s get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?”

The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him.

On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.

“Help me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!”

Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didn’t have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.

“Up next is our cowboy-tootin’, bullet-firin’ family man, Norman!”

Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didn’t stand a chance against the fake cheers. He’d settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.

“And finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, it’s Asher!”

Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasn’t that Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. That’s why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.

“Now,” the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Let’s start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, you’re looking comfortable out on that beach!”

Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.

“I think you’re mistaking me for the surfers across the street,” Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.

“Men…you all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.”

All three of them put on bewildered faces.

“Cody, what’s holding you back from embracing that Cali life?” the host asked.

“I…I mean there’s the obvious fact that they aren’t keen on ga-”

BZZT

“Ah!” Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.

“Cody, what’s holding you back?” the host asked again.

“Dude,” Corey uncharacteristically responded. “I don’t know if they will accept me, man.”

“Bro, what’s there NOT to accept?” the host chuckled. “You fit right in!”

Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-

BZZT

“You’re right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! They’ll totally accept me!”

Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the library–that’s why he was on the beach after all!

“Alright alright,” the host nodded with approval. “Now Norman, let’s talk about your life in the countryside.”

‪‘Country side’?” Nolan interjected. “Do you consider Houston-”

BZZT

Nolan flung his hand back, “HOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.”

“And what massive land you got behind you, I’m assuming you and your male fling built that together.”

“My what?” Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden he’d built with his hus-

BZZT

-the ranch he’d built with his hustle. Well, not technically–this land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. He’d just been fixing it up here and there.

Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. “W…What in tarnation is goin' on ‘ere?”

The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent he’d implanted onto the second contestant. “A place fittin' for a cowpoke like y’all’s self! Ain’t no city folk allowed; you don’t want nothin’ queer intrudin' your property, right?”

Queer?!” Nolan spat back. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’-“

BZZT

“Darn tootin’ straight! Ain’t nothin’ strange gonna be happenin’ on this ‘ere land.”

With the second contestant’s location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.

“And onto our Ivy League, let’s discuss ascension…I mean, ‘climbing the corporate ladder’.”

Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. “You don’t think I worked hard to earn this position?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t do it all yourself.”

Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasn’t going to let anyone taint his name over that.

“What, do you think my current boyfri-”

BZZT

“-my dating his-”

BZZT

“-my friends with benefits were involved?”

Aaron’s fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.

“Well,” the host snickered. “If by benefits, you mean…”

“What’s all this!” Aaron flipped. “This is simply…p…preposterous!”

“What are you talking about?” the host egged on. “It's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an ‘inheritance’.”

The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.

“I…I may have a b…benefactor,” Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? “But that has nothing to do with it!”

“Benefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?”

The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked “Ooooohhhh”s. Aaron’s usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.

“We may be really closely acquainted!” Aaron backpedaled. “But it’s nothing of that kind of sort!”

The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.

“Sounds pretty queer to me, man,” Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.

“Yeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,” Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.

“SHUT UP SWINE!” Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. “I'm perfectly normal!”

The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.

“He’s right folks, we men are on the right side of history.” The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. “Surely that father-figure is just some kind of…relative?”

“Just a relative, brah?” Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.

“Seems closer than that, partner.” Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.

“A….A relative?” Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. “He’s…he’s someone who I f-“

BZZT

“Father! He’s my father: Asher Osvald the Third!” Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didn’t match his own personality. “And you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!”

Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.

“Dude…” Corey started. “Can’t you just see he’s messin’ with us, man? Don’t you guys feel kinda strange-“

“Aren’t you supposed to chill, dude?” The host immediately cut him off.

Corey’s mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. “How can I chill with-“

BZZT

“Without the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!”

The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.

“Now, Cody,” the host coyly asked. “I’m sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.”

“I uh…I work with coding.”

“You are studying IT?” the host replied, incredulous. “Sounds complicated man.”

Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. “Yeah, but I sort of have a gift for-“

BZZT

“IT...like as in ‘it’ man...not ‘eye-tee’ or whatever.”

“But it has something to do with a code, right?”

“Well…yeah man…” Corey’s lifeless vocal fry responded. “But it's not that nerdy crap…something more…uhhh…”

The host graciously provided the answer, “Manly?”

“Yeah man….’it’ is the uh…bro-code brah.” Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes don’t think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldn’t he man? Wasn’t that what was normal?

While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.

“Hey Norman, you’re really rocking that fit.”

Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didn’t think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.

“Those shoes must be great for the ranch.”

Nolan laughed. “These ole’ things? They’re Prada from last season-“

BZZT

“Uhh…Ah mean these boots are from that one brand-”

BZZT

“Ah’ve had these kickers for years, fella!”

The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestant’s clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.

“And that belt, how long have you had that?”

Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. “Oh yeah, this ‘ere was a gift-“

BZZT

“What in TARNATION was that for?!” Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.

“S…Sorry y’all,” Nolan collected himself. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten ovah me, or why Ah’m speakin’ so-“

“Enough apologies,” the host gagged. “You are a man, are you not?”

“Yessiree, but that doesn’t mean we men ain’t got to be sens-”

BZZT

“Ah reckon yer right there, partner!” Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. “We men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.”

The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestant’s body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. “And men like you ought to have a body like that, don’t they?”

The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6’4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!

With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.

“Now Asher, let’s get real here.” The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. “Any ladies tickling that fancy lately?”

“What?” Aaron scoffed. “Are you dense? I'm into g-”

BZZT

“Girls…no…wait what?” Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he liked…girls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something he…liked?

“Listen ere’, partner,” Nolan suddenly interjected. “Yer talkin’ 'bout women like they’re nothin’!”

The host, displeased, fought back. “Aren’t you married to one, partner?”

Nolan couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Me? Married to a woman? Yeah right-”

BZZT

“-Ah am! Ah’ve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ain’t nothing QUEER happenin' on this ‘ere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!”

As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.

“Look, I think we should respect women.” Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. “In fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-“

BZZT

“And by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.”

The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. “They weren’t kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.”

Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5’9.

“Well excuseeee me! I am my own person with-“

BZZT

“My father is a reputable man who would wish to-”

BZZT

“DADDY!”

Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country club’s golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christ’s sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!

As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his merit–which he refused to ever admit weren’t even his own–a small alarm went off from the host’s computer.

“Like what was that, mannnn?” Corey’s face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.

“Yeah,” Nolan reared. “What's y'all gonna do next?”

“I demand to know it this instant!” The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. “Or else I’ll tell my father about this-!”

An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.

“Alright folks, you know what that sound means!” the host grinned. “It’s almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still haven’t figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', we’re going to have to speed things up!”

“But can’t there only be one winner?” Aaron whined.

“Technically, no,” the host responded honestly. “All of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.”

For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.

“I mean, let’s look at our surfer stud Cody,” the host started. “You are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing that’s still pent-up, man.”

“Brah…” Corey complained. “What else is there?”

As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.

“A totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillin’ dude.”

Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.

“And Norman, you’ve worked hard for your position in life, haven’t you?”

The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.

“So what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?”

Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptist’s lil’ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.

“And you, Asher,” the host swiped over to the final contestant. “What’s stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?”

Asher’s face went red and his cock went hard.

“I’m talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddy’s little-”

The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.

But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:

“YEEHAW!”

Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaron’s anger truly took the best of him. He couldn’t be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christ’s sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please his…please his…!

“F…FAAAAATHERR!”

A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritage’s estate had granted him.

The host didn’t try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. He’d loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights he’d created, the host couldn’t help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldn’t have been “totally normal.”

“And it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!” The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. “So, did you three ever figure out what makes you ‘Totally Normal’?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brah?” Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. “It’s that we’re straight, mannnn…”

“He’s right, partner!” Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. “Ain’t none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.”

“Well, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as ‘I-V’,” Asher Osvald IV’s voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. “After all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.”

“Yes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.” The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. “But that’s all we have for today’s show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!”

“Hang ten and surfs up, dudes!”

“The biggest rodeo’s the family and kids y’all!”

“I’m probably way richer than you vagrants, so don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget to ask yourself,” the host winked before adding in the final audio. “ARE YOU NORMAL?”

#gay to straight #dumber #bottomtotop #nerdtojock #political #lib to con #preppification #unintendedresults #Christian

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kitkat238984 · 1 year ago

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Love Means A Free Babysitter

Summary: As a single mother of a three-year-old, you are constantly struggling to keep him under control, and boy are you glad Tyler was there at Rampage when you needed help. It worked out better than you expected.

TW: An annoyingly adorable child. You either love him or you hate him.

“Asher! Wait for me, please! Don’t run off!” You called for your three-year-old son who thought it would be a fun idea to make you chase him around backstage.

The babysitter you’d hired had cancelled a mere hour before she was due to arrive at the hotel, so you made a quick call to Tony Khan’s team to ask if you could bring your son to Rampage and he reluctantly agreed so long as you kept him under control.

“Oh yes of course. I promise you he’s an angel. You won’t even notice he’s here”.

An ear-piercing shriek echoed through the hall you were running through and you ignored the shocked, puzzled looks thrown your way. So much for being unnoticeable. It probably would have been easier to catch up with him if you weren’t carrying all his toys, snacks, his blanket, your own water bottle, and your gym bag with your ring gear in.

“Asher…”, you warned. “If you don’t stop running, mommy will be very angry with you”. Still nothing. You swore this kid had as much energy as if he’d drank dozens of energy drinks and eaten a bowlful of sugar.

If everyone here didn’t know you were one of the professional wrestlers, they would most likely mistake you for a crazed fan.

You didn’t take your eyes off Asher for one second, cautious of where he was running to, not wanting to find him somehow running through somewhere and into the arena.

However, you gave an audible sigh of relief when a figure appeared from around the corner, causing Asher to bump into their legs and ultimately stopping him in his tracks, now wordlessly gazing up at the person’s face.

As you drew closer you realised that the person your son had crashed into was Hook - or Tyler as you and some others preferred to call him - who returned the intent gaze into your child’s eyes, but his eyes filled with perplexion as he glanced around him trying to figure out where this random kid came from.

“Uhh…”, he uttered before you closed the distance and placed your hand over Asher’s shoulder and pulled him away from your coworker.

“Tyler, I’m so sorry about him. I’ve been trying to catch up with him for five minutes already and he just won’t stay still”. You managed to speak whilst catching your breath, proving difficult with everything you were holding as well as keeping Asher at bay who was now clinging and leaning against your leg.

“Uh it’s cool. What’s with the kid?” He asked with no hesitation.

You could see the obvious bewilderment in his features, glancing back and forth between yourself and Asher, and giggled before answering his question.

“This is Asher. My son”, you told him, and he responded with five seconds of lip-mimed stuttering until speaking up again.

“Since when were you a mom? You’ve never said anything before”.

It was true that you’d never told Tyler before that you had a young child to take care of, but that was only reasoned with the fact that you never spoke to one another all that much. The closest you’d get to a conversation would be a few remarks on someone’s match in the viewing room or in one of the locker rooms. Your paths simply never seemed to cross naturally very often.

“Since three years ago. I fell pregnant at eighteen, gave birth at nineteen, and now I’m a very tired mother and professional wrestler”.

Hook felt he needed more than just a couple of seconds between bombshells to wrap his head around this discovery. You were a mom of a three-year-old boy. You were younger than him and had somehow managed to climb up the ladder of success into AEW whilst carrying around a baby in the background.

He felt a sudden rush of respect that he’d never had before. Truthfully, he always thought you had a few screws in your head loose as you always scurried about everywhere and constantly looked like you had somewhere you needed to be. It had never the slightest bit bothered him and it never made him think any less of you, but now knowing there was a reason behind your madness made him feel guilty for thinking such things about you.

“Can’t the father look after him?” he asked.

“Oh um no”, you told him plainly. “He left me when he found out I was pregnant. Thought he was too important to deal with a child”.

Then he felt worse than ever. You were a single mom, juggling everything all at once. How were you even sane?

Frustration was visible in Tyler’s demeanour, evident in his clenched fists, pressing into his thighs and a small wrinkle in his nose which did not go unnoticed by you.

“I’m kind of glad he left actually”, you continued. “I was trying to find a way out for months. He wasn’t a very nice person and would have been an even worse dad”.

He appeared to relax slightly and you were thankful that he hadn’t burst into some fit of rage, however, what confused you was that he was angry in the first place after telling him about your ex.

You hadn’t realised he cared so much about single mothers, let alone care about yourself. You wouldn’t exactly call Tyler a close friend so it surprised you that he would… well… actually give a damn. Whatever his reason for caring was, it brought you happiness that he felt the same way you did when your ex told you he was leaving you.

“Anyway”, you snapped out of your thoughts. “We’d better get going if I actually want to fight tonight”.

“The show doesn’t start for like four hours”.

“It will take that long”.

Hook gave you a questioned look before stuffing his hands back into the pocket of his hoodie and putting one of his earbuds in his ear.

“I might see you later then. Good luck with uh… that…” He nodded towards Asher beside you and walked away behind you.

“Thanks?” Was he scared of Asher or something?

Taking advantage of the opening in front of him to continue causing chaos, you found yourself running after Asher yet again.

“I swear that child is on steroids��, you huffed.

—

Before even having gone in the ring yet, it felt like it had been the most stressful match day of your life, and you were waiting patiently in the viewing room with Asher standing in between your legs whilst you were handing him surprise tickle attacks.

At least he wasn’t running wildly and screaming.

You weren’t alone in the room as Hook was sitting on the opposite side with his earphones in and distracted by whatever was happening on the screen. You were a bit too preoccupied with your son to notice anything, even the frequent glances Hook gave the both of you. All you really knew and cared about at that moment was that you were to have a quick match with Saraya and that you were going to win.

“Hey hey hey, Asher”, you addressed your littlun to get his attention. “When mommy’s done here we’re going back to the hotel and you, mister, are going straight to bed. Okay? So you’ve got to be a good boy”.

“I am a good boy”, he said, nodding his head.

“Good”. You kissed his head and reached down to Asher’s bag to pull out a bag of carrot sticks since it had been a while since he ate his dinner.

As you were doing so, the door to the viewing room opened and you spun your head to see - as you expected - one of the producers. “Y/n, you’re needed now”.

“Alright. I’ll be there in just a minute”.

You quickly gave Asher his carrot sticks and got him to settle on a chair with his ipad so he should have been fine there for a while, however, you didn’t feel comfortable just leaving him alone the way he was. You had hoped that someone around you would be available, but one look at Hook made you feel… reluctant.

As funny as it was that he called your son ‘that’, you shamedly didn’t have much faith in his babysitting abilities, and you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

But in all honesty, you didn’t care too much. You were sure he wouldn’t let anything bad happen which was all you needed to know, and taking another look at Asher, he seemed pretty absorbed in his game so…

“Hey, Tyler”, you called and he raised an eyebrow up at you. “Can you look after Asher for me? I won’t be long and he’ll be good. Thanks. Bye. I owe you”.

He was in safe hands.

Rushing to get out of there, you kissed Asher’s head and ran through the door to get to your match, leaving a dumbfounded Hook staring at the empty doorway where you were just standing.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ He thought.

Hook unfortunately knew absolutely nothing about children and so felt very awkward about the situation he was forced in, however, he thought maybe if he kept completely silent and didn’t move then the kid wouldn’t notice he was there and that his mom had disappeared.

Of course, that didn’t last long. After a couple of minutes, Asher’s head poked up and looked for his mom but found only the man with the fluffy hair staring at his phone.

“Where’s mommy?” he asked, which attracted Hook’s attention.

Here goes nothing. “She’s in the ring. She’ll be back soon”.

“What’s a ring?”

“It’s where people go to fight”.

Asher looked puzzled and tilted his head to the side as if he were a puppy.

“Mommy said no fighting. That’s not good”.

“Well your mommy fights. Everyone here fights”.

“Mommy doesn’t fight”. He began aggressively shaking his head. “Mommy’s a good girl”.

A smirk turned into a chuckle at the thought of you telling your own child that fighting is naughty and there you were on the screen throwing someone’s head against the padding of a corner post.

“I think mommy’s cappin’. Look up there”. He pointed to the screen where you were now being thrown onto the canvas with Saraya’s foot making contact with the arms that covered your head.

Hook had assumed Asher would feel offended that you had lied to him yet think what you were doing was cool like he had when he first saw his dad wrestle, but when he looked over, what he feared would happen, happened. He was never good with kids so making one cry caused him probably the most panic he’s ever felt, even more than when he’s been pinned and desperately tried to find an outing.

“Hey hey, kid, don’t cry. Your mom’s fine. She’s not getting hurt”, he said, rushing to Asher’s side, crouching to his level and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t like it”.

Asher’s whines alone were enough to make Hook’s heart break. What would you say if you knew he’d just made your son cry?

He needed to fix this before you came back. He needed to fix this now. Fast.

“Uhh it’s only pretend. It’s not real. They’re just… tickling each other”.

“Tickling? Why are they tickling?”

“Because it’s fun. They uh tickle each other until one of them gets too tired to carry on”.

That’d have to do. At least the tears had stopped now.

“Mommy being tickled?”

“Sure”.

“I want to do that”. He pointed to the TV and stared at Hook with large hopeful eyes.

It wasn’t his position to start play-fighting with your son, let alone being the one to tell him what you do for a living, but the thought of a little kid wanting him to teach him wrestling made him forget about all that. He wanted to teach your kid the child-friendly version of wrestling and that was what he was going to do.

“Alright. So have you ever had a tickle fight before?” He nodded. “Well it’s just that but you have to try and get me on the floor and for me to stay there for three seconds. Can you do that?”

He nodded again with a gigantic smile that brought Hook some pride. He was about to guide Asher to the first move, but he beat him to it, flinging himself at Tyler who in turn flew back and hit the ground.

His instinct would have been to push him off, but he had to restrain himself from being aggressive.

In fact, he almost laughed when Asher made a poor attempt to tickle his neck. Three-year-olds were apparently terrible ticklers.

“One two three”, the small person said, clearly not knowing how long one second is yet with how fast he was, but Hook went along with it anyway.

“Heeeyyy I want a rematch. I wasn’t ready”.

Hook surprised himself with how well he was with Asher and how easy it was to get along. It was pretty amusing how innocent and naive he was. He honestly thought that he could tell the kid anything and he’d believe him.

Whilst ‘fighting’, he also noticed elements of Asher’s appearance and behaviour, small habits that easily resembled you. The little sparkle in his E/C eyes were the complete replica of your own, and the dimples in his cheeks was something he’d seen before many times when you’ve laughed at something someone said.

There were parts about Asher that didn’t quite match, like the hair colour was completely different to yours which he presumed was from the dickhead ex-boyfriend. However, Hook didn’t hate the way it looked on Asher like he thought it should. It suited him and brought out the good in something wicked.

He didn’t want to sound like a creep and say he’d been staring at you long enough to notice all these little things about you, but… well yeah he’d been staring. Truthfully, he thought you were a beautiful, sexy sight to behold which is why he was so surprised to see you with a child.

How had he not noticed?

How the fuck did you manage to carry that for nine months?! You looked fucking incredible for someone who had given birth and it only gave him another thing to love about you, that you were strong-willed and ambitious enough to make it this far with a baby.

Again he was pinned to the floor on his front with Asher sitting on his back. If anyone saw Hook in that moment - pretend screaming and waving his arms and legs as if he was struggling - he would probably die of embarrassment. He had a cool reputation to keep up. But with his head facing away from the door, he didn’t notice that you were standing in the doorway enjoying the show from the sidelines.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at this sight for two reasons: you were happy Asher seemed to be having a great time (and would sleep really easily that night), and the smugness you felt seeing Tyler’s complete personality change from what you’ve ever known from him.

“Ahh you’ve pinned me”, he cried. “Remember the count. Remember the count”.

Asher giggled and counted to three on his fingers. As much as you wanted to continue watching the cute show, you knew you had to make yourself known.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” you called out and both boys whipped their heads to the sound of your voice.

“Mommyyyyy!” Asher immediately jumped off Tyler’s back and ran to you, tightly wrapping his arms around your legs, a sign of affection which you kindly returned.

“Have you two been having fun?” you asked.

“Yeah! Yeah! I just learning wrestling”.

“Oh really now? And who’s been teaching you that?”

Asher looked back and pointed to Hook who was now sitting up and leaning against the chairs, running his hands through his hair trying to fix it.

“Tyler taught you now, did he? How about you play with your cars for a bit and calm down, yeah? I think Tyler’s tired”.

You and he knew that was all but the truth, but Asher had to come down from his energy surge somehow.

“You told him? Really?” you asked, walking towards the chairs Hook was pulling himself onto and sitting beside him.

“In my defence, I didn’t know you were trying to keep him away from fighting and I may have accidentally made him cry”.

You gasped and your mouth stayed gaped open for a long few seconds before playfully slapping him on the arm. “How dare you make my son cry? You really are cold-hearted. And it’s not that I was keeping him away from it, I just don’t want him growing up thinking he can solve things with aggression. I mean, he still doesn’t fully understand the difference between right and wrong”.

“You’re right. I’m sorry”.

You chuckled lightly at his apology. “Don’t be. It was sweet watching him doing what we do”.

“I thought the same. If he keeps that up he’s looking at a good future career ahead of him”.

You nodded and watched as Asher so cluelessly played with his cars around the room, occasionally driving the toy cars across both your laps.

“How do you make it look so easy?”

The question took you by surprise and you unintentionally scoffed. “Easy? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

“What I mean is”, he corrected, “is that you’re a fucking good-”

“Language…”

“Right. Sorry. You’re a great mom, and even though you’ve probably struggled, you’ve had incredible success. I just wanna know how you do it”.

You took a deep breath, knowing this was going to be a looooong night. “Well… truthfully… I’m a hot mess. I don’t sleep. When I first found out I was pregnant and Asher’s dad left me, I was so sure I’d get an abortion, but then I went to the clinic and had a scan and realised I had a helpless child living inside of me and I wouldn’t let it down by taking away its chance at life. Although at least once a week I stay up all night crying, regretting every life choice I’ve made, when I wake up to this beauty I’m proud to call my son, I become slightly more disgusted with myself that I even dared to think about giving up”.

You had to force yourself to breathe after that confession. You completely shocked yourself because you’d never really had the chance to talk to anyone about what went through your mind almost on a daily basis and yet here you were, telling Tyler everything in one go as if he were your damned therapist.

“God I didn’t mean to spill everything out like that”, you told him.

“Ah don’t worry. You shouldn’t hate yourself so much for it, though. Can’t imagine what crazy shit- uh stuff you’ve gone through. I bet all single mothers have gone through the same as you”.

You sent him a heartwarming smile and he sent the same but in smirk form which you never knew was possible without looking like a complete jackass.

It still wasn’t possible. He looked dorky but you loved it nonetheless.

“Do you want kids?” you asked.

“Whoa ask me out to dinner first”.

You tried to hide the laughter that was begging to come out from that cheesy line with a shake of your head, but you knew it was no use.

“Me? Kids? Nah. At least not now. I wouldn’t even know where to start with being a dad. I’ve never really been around younger kids being an only child and all. It’s not like I could just drag a wife and kid around with me everywhere I go. I’m not father material”.

Your heart dropped at hearing his admission, because you yourself had thought the exact same thing when you were pregnant. You remember how frightened you were of being alone or having no one there as the role-model you so desperately needed.

But how were you to know how rewarding it all was in the end?

“Well I understand where you’re coming from but you’re wrong. Very wrong. When I walked in here and saw you and Asher, I would have been easily convinced that you’ve been hiding three kids back home. You’d be an awesome dad”.

“Ha… thanks, but it still feels like it’s off the cards for me. My job just doesn’t work well with having a family. It sucks but it’s the truth”.

“And what about me? Do you think I teleport from place to place? Of course not. Asher and I take a few days once or twice a month to go home where he sees his friends, and we don’t let the constant travelling stop us from doing the things that mean the most to us. Which goes for you too”.

Your words truly touched Tyler’s heart. His parents had told him so many times that it was possible to have a family life and still do pro wrestling, but he still never quite believed it. He wanted to be there for his future wife and children whenever they needed him at any time of the day, not just the occasional weekend when he had time off.

Hearing your story and how you’ve coped with all the madness in your life finally broke that barrier that’s stopped him from believing he had to choose between a career and a family. Tyler was only twenty-four and had a long time ahead of him for his plans, but he knew where he wanted to start his future - well he knew who he wanted to start it with.

He had no idea how long he’d been staring at you, but he was happy you were staring back.

‘There it is’, he thought. The same shine in your eyes as the one he saw in Asher’s earlier. It took everything in his willpower not to devour your lips right there and then. Who cares if the kid saw? He’d find out eventually that kissing was quite normal between a man and a woman.

“Hey”, he began talking, snapping you both out of your trance. “Can you make time in your busy schedule for a date tomorrow? About 12?”

You bit your lip to prevent you from grinning like some psycho serial killer and managed to nod which brought a broad smile to his own face.

“That is if I can find another babysitter by then”.

“Bring Asher along. We can go to the park and get something to eat”.

Your heart warmed at the thoughtful gesture. “I wouldn’t want to invade your plans with a three-year-old”.

“You wouldn’t. I promise”.

“Then yeah. Yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you”.

“Perfect”.

Tyler asked for your number which you willingly gave him and he sent a text to make sure you weren’t messing with him.

“Alright, Asher. Say goodbye to Tyler”.

Asher turned around and waved to your date. “Bye, Tyleeer!”

“Bye, Asher. See you tomorrow”.

“See you tomorrow”, he replied, not fully understanding what was actually happening tomorrow. Sweet.

—

When you got back to the hotel, you thought that the roles might have been reversed because you were exhausted from the long day and you could have passed out in the elevator, whereas Asher was straight on the small bed laid out for him and bouncing up and down like it were a trampoline.

“Hey calm down. It’s time for bed. It’s been a very busy day and it’s very very late”.

“I want to play wrestling”.

“We can play wrestling tomorrow with Tyler. I’m sure he’ll play with you again if you bother him enough”.

“No. I want to play with you”.

You sighed deeply, just wanting to flop on the bed and let sleep overcome you. It was almost midnight which definitely shouldn’t have been a time a toddler was still awake at, and you were sure he’d end up waking you at stupid o'clock in the morning.

Maybe one game wouldn’t hurt. He had such a confusing and stressful day.

“Alright. One time then straight to bed”.

He giggled before launching himself at you from the bed and you quickly caught him so he wouldn’t drop, but you still pretended to fall backwards on the bed. You were confused as to why Asher was fidgeting so much, but you carried on playing nonetheless and switched positions, rolling him over and throwing yourself over his torso, pinning him down.

He had to learn to lose the hard way.

“Nooo! Stop!” he cried. Thinking you might have hurt him, you quickly got off and scanned his face for any sign of pain.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“You doing it wrong!”

“Wrong? How am I doing it wrong?”

“That’s not how you do it”.

“Then tell me how to do it”.

Now he was sulking. Typical behaviour. You weren’t going to get a word out of him until you knew what he wanted.

“Let’s just go to bed then”.

“NOOOOO!” he screamed.

“You’re tired. Come on”.

“I not tired! I want to play wrestling!” he crossed his arms. You’d been through this situation before. Maybe if you just slept he would forget about it and go to sleep himself.

“I want to play wrestling!” he screamed again.

A lightbulb felt like it turned on in your head at the genius but probably the most logical idea. You hoped he wasn’t asleep yet but there was a slim chance that he was.

“Heeey, Tyler”, you spoke into the phone. “Can I ask you a real quick question?”

“You changed your mind already? I thought I would have had at least tomorrow’s date before you decided you didn’t like me”, he responded, his voice slightly muffled through the speaker.

“Oh, no nothing like that. I haven’t dated in like five years. I need tomorrow. I just wanted to know how you played wrestling earlier”.

You could imagine the perplexed look swept across his features. “Do I wanna know why?”

“I think you’ve created Asher’s new favourite game and he keeps saying I’m doing it wrong”.

“Well, are you tickling him?”

“Tickling? You tickled him? You?”

“Yeah, let's not tell anyone”.

You almost burst out laughing at the all mighty Hook secretly being a softie and embarrassed the way he was then.

“Oh believe me, I’m going to tell Ricky tomorrow and the word that you’re a secret teddy bear will have reached everyone’s ears before the week is over”.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Now go to bed”.

“Thank you so much. Goodnight”.

“Night”.

You felt yourself swooning at his thoughtfulness and you understood why all those girls fawned over him and his unlikely charm.

“Right. Now I know how to play, how about we start the game again?”

—

“Eminem is not better than Snoop Dogg. You’re insane”.

You snickered, relishing in the satisfaction you had from teasing Tyler.

“Eminem’s songs tell a story. Snoop Dogg just says a bunch of random shit”.

“What’s storytelling about two trailer-park girls going round the outside, huh?”

“Ah you got me there”.

The three of you were walking down a trail down the side of the park, Asher running ahead of you hitting every tree he could see with a stick. You took a side glance at Tyler who was gazing off into the distance at your son. You thought it was pretty adorable that he was growing a liking to Asher, particularly after the awkwardness he possessed around him when they first met.

A laugh escaped your lips which drew the attention of Tyle who whipped his head to face you. “What’s so funny?”

“What happened to the guy who didn’t like kids?”

“Ah he’s growing on me”.

“I’m glad. Because he’ll be tagging around to a few of our dates”.

He stopped in his tracks whilst you continued walking but turned around once you noticed he wasn’t catching you up.

Had you put him off by inadvertedly inviting a third wheel?

“What makes you think there are more dates?”

Oh thank fuck.

“Well, aren't there?”

He let out a sly chuckle as you moved closer to him, mirroring his smirk, and he instinctively rested his hands on your hips.

Tyler felt his fingertips tingle at the touch of you. It was like his hands had finally found their destined home.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out”.

His lips captured yours in craving and you felt in the small but powerful gesture all the longing he had for you and your lips. Both yours and his lips massaged each other and your body fell into complete ecstasy.

Until the little monster ruined the moment…

“Why are you kissing?” You pulled away and smiled at Asher’s innocence.

“It doesn’t matter, sweetie. Come on, let’s keep going”.

“I don’t want to. My legs hurt. Pick me up?”.

You looked at Asher in disbelief. You’d seen this child practically run marathons without stopping and somehow an hour at the park has him too tired to stand? You weren’t believing it for a second. Besides, as strong as you were, the kid was heavy.

“You’re too big to pick up now. You’re a big boy”.

“Pick me uuuuup!”

“I told you no”.

Ah there was the grumpiness again, his arms flailing everywhere and foot stomping on the ground. You sent him a stern look that you held for all of five seconds before Tyler decided to speak up.

“Hey, do you want to sit on my shoulders?”

“Yeah!”

Hook knelt down whilst Asher climbed up his back and swung his legs over his shoulders, Tyler’s arms securely holding them in place so he wouldn’t fall backward.

You rolled your eyes and you all continued walking down the path - with the exception of Asher, of course.

It was a beautiful sight, you had to admit to yourself, but he was a cheeky mother fucker.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

He chuckled at your comment for he knew you were telling the truth, but he loved the drama.

“First, you make Asher cry, then you teach him wrestling, and now you’re his personal chauffeur. I hope you’re happy”.

“Oh I’m more than happy, baby”.

You couldn’t have agreed more. You had hope that this situation would progress into something much more wonderful than it already felt.

THE END.

#hook aew #hook x reader #aew #aew fanfiction #hook x you #hook x y/n #hook fanfiction #hook imagine #all elite wrestling #reader insert

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libraryofgage · 11 months ago

Text

Addams Family B-Side (5)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

This part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Steve meets the other CC boys in this one, and they all realize just how perfect the two are for each other hfjdks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---------

Steve realizes something very important about Eddie over the next few days of school: he's a coward. Not that Steve minds, of course. In fact, he likes that; it means he gets to have more fun teasing Eddie to his limit and watching him get flustered.

He has to find Eddie to do that, though, and he starts with the Hellfire Club room (an English classroom that the teacher lets them borrow during lunch). Without knocking, he walks right in and looks over the three boys huddled together with monster figurines placed between them.

The boys look up at Steve, and the four of them begin a minute-long staring match before Steve finally smiles at them. "Gareth, Jeff, Asher," he says, pointing at each boy in turn. "Nice to meet you. Where's Eddie?"

"Who's asking?" Gareth asks, his eyes narrowed as he looks over Steve in his sweater-vest and chinos.

"Steve Harrington."

They recognize his name, if their expressions are anything to go by, and before Steve can ask again where Eddie is, Jeff stands up and crosses his arms. "Why do you wanna know where Eddie is?" he asks.

"Because I want to talk to him."

"What about?" Asher asks, leaning around Jeff to level a similar glare at Steve.

"Our project."

"Let's cut the crap, Harrington," Gareth says, moving to stand next to Jeff. "What are you trying to pull here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Someone like...you isn't interested in Eddie unless you want something," Asher says, looking Steve up and down once more for emphasis.

Oh. They think he has bad intentions. Steve can't help a slight smile, glad Eddie has good friends. "I do want something," Steve says, nodding once as pride and vindication flash in the others' eyes. "I want to chain Eddie to my bed and never let him leave until he's so utterly enthralled by me that he'd never think of looking away even if I did unchain him."

"Wh....what?" Jeff asks, his voice cracking slightly.

Steve nods once and sighs regretfully. "Unfortunately, Mother would never let me because his disappearance would raise too many questions," he admits, pouting slightly as he looks up at the boys, "So, I have to get his attention in other ways."

"Like...leaving gifts?" Asher asks.

"Exactly," Steve says, smiling brightly. "It's as close to proper courting as I can get."

"Okay, you're weird," Jeff decides.

"What do you even like about him?" Gareth asks, his eyes narrowing slightly now that he's over his surprise.

"His conviction. And Eddie is so cute when he's flustered or jealous. And he gets along so well with Nox. He didn't scream when he met my father, and he seems perfectly happy stabbing Pubert's kidneys, too. I think he's got such Addams potential, I can hardly control the urge to slip him a little belladonna or raspberry to get him all breathless and gasping."

"Dude, do you wanna kiss him or kill him?!" Asher asks.

Steve blinks, frowning slightly at the question with such an obvious answer. "Well, murder attempts are only appropriate after marriage, don't you think? Nothing says I love you like a post-nuptials bomb or a toaster in the bath."

"Oh," Jeff says faintly, "you do wanna kill him."

No, they still don't get it. Steve's frown deepens, trying to figure out how to explain things properly. "Even if Eddie did die, I wouldn't let him stay dead," Steve explains, "I would get him back. We have an understanding with Death. I want to make Eddie's wildest nightmares come true and keep him company in his dreams. I want us to bury ourselves alive in each other's arms so we can pass out breathing the same air. I want to dance a Mamushka for him. I want Eddie to feel accepted and support his deadliest ambitions until he feels absolutely smothered and helpless to get away."

A few moments of silence pass. Steve waits patiently, smiling at them as they process his words. "I've got it," Jeff finally says, "he's clinically insane."

"How'd you know?"

"You know what?" Gareth asks, looking to Steve, "I think you and Eddie might be perfect for each other, maybe just leave us out of whatever weird flirting thing you've got going on here."

"I need to find Eddie to do that."

"He's in the loft in the black box," Asher says, "That's where he goes to, uh, think."

"Oh, does he have buyers today?"

"No, he goes there to actually think, too," Gareth explains.

Steve smiles brightly and nods. "Thanks! I'm glad Eddie has such good friends. I think we'll get along, too," he says.

"Yeah, if you don't kill us first," Gareth mutters.

"I wouldn't! Not until we were friends ourselves, at least."

With that, Steve turns on his heel and waves as he leaves the classroom, heading straight for the black box with a plan already forming.

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

Eddie grimaces as he hears someone climbing the loft stairs. He throws an arm over his eyes and soon realizes that only makes the image of Steve leaning close and looking up at him even harder to ignore. With a huff, Eddie squeezes his eyes harder as he calls out, "I'm not selling today!"

The steps pause, and Eddie thinks the person is going to leave only for them to continue again. He frowns and drops his arm in time to see Steve's head poking around the railing. His face is a little blotchy, his eyes are slightly red, and his voice is rough like he's been crying when he says, "I'm not here to buy."

What else is Eddie supposed to think when Steve looks like this?

He jerks up, leaning against the arm of the prop couch with wide eyes. "Have you been crying?" he asks.

Steve sniffs and looks away, still hesitating at the top of the stairs. "No," he says, his voice closer to normal as he takes a deep breath and marches over to the couch. He stares at Eddie for a moment before sitting on the other end. "I've done something wrong, haven't I?" he asks.

"What? No!" Eddie says, jerking forward and stopping himself before he can actually touch Steve's shoulder. He clears his throat and forces his hand to drop. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been avoiding me," Steve says, his tone resigned as he sighs. He glances at Eddie, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away. "I guess I can be overwhelming, huh? I'll stop now. With the gifts and all. Just pretend it never happened. You can even keep Nox."

Eddie feels the entire world lurch beneath him at Steve's words. Yeah, he's been avoiding Steve, but only because he felt at risk of confessing undying love in the middle of the crowded hallway if he so much as met Steve's eyes. Not to mention how Steve's voice as he offered to contribute more to their project keeps echoing in Eddie's head, making him think of things that definitely aren't school appropriate.

But it backfired. It backfired so so bad. How could Steve not realize that Eddie wants to be more overwhelmed, actually? Like, please keep overwhelming him until he dies, thank you.

Without thinking, he pushes himself into Steve's space, hesitating a moment before throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders as the smell of cookies and cream washes over him. "You definitely didn't overwhelm me, sweetheart," he says, the name just slipping out.

Based on the way Steve's eyes widen, he doesn't take it back. "Then, why were you avoiding me?" Steve asks.

"I, uh...I just...," Eddie looks away, frowning as he tries to come up with an answer that doesn't involve him confessing to Steve on a couch at least three different couples have fucked on.

"Is it because you don't like me? You could just say that, Eddie," Steve says, his shoulders slumping as he leans out of Eddie's space.

Oh fuck. Eddie scrambles, his brain reaching for anything to say that will fix this. Finally, he blurts out, "I like you too much. I like you so much I want to smother you until you can't breathe." Steve blinks, and Eddie feels the world fall out from under him. Well, he's confessed on the couch. Shit. He swallows around the nervous lump in his throat and pulls away, an anxious laugh bubbling from him.

And then Steve smiles, robbing Eddie of his laughter. His face is no longer splotchy, his eyes are no longer red, and Eddie feels like he's fallen into a trap that couldn't be more obvious. "Did...did you just..."

Before he can get the rest out, Steve leans closer until his lips are brushing over Eddie's earlobe. "I like you, too," he whispers, the words ghosting over Eddie's skin and sending a shudder down his spine. With that, Steve pulls back and stands from the couch, walking over to the staircase.

"Where are you going?" Eddie asks, leaning so far forwards that he falls off the couch and lands on his ass on the floor.

Steve looks back at him and smiles fondly, the curve of his lips making Eddie's hands curl into fists so he doesn't reach out to drag his thumb across them. "I was thinking of skipping the rest of the day to see a movie," he says. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie scrambles to his feet faster than he thought possible, hurrying after Steve as he starts down the stairs.

-------

"I just don't get it!" Steve says, frowning as he paces across the room. His mother is stretched out on a chaise lounge, idly flipping through a VINTAGE MACABRE magazine Morticia lent her. "I mean, I took him to a movie, it was plenty dark, I leaned in and whispered to him the whole time and did that thing you taught me with dragging my finger up his arm, and nothing!"

"He's just a tough nut to crack," Debbie says, her voice reassuring as she flips a page.

Steve turns on his heel to face her, his frown deepening. "What am I doing wrong?" he asks, his voice breaking slightly at the end as sheer frustration overwhelms him. He's given Eddie gifts, he's dressed provocatively, he's made it so clear that he wants to be with Eddie, but nothing has happened. "Can't I just...ask him out myself?"

That makes Debbie pause. She looks up, closes her magazine, and sits up on the lounge, gesturing for Steve to join her. He carefully sits next to her, sighing when Debbie pulled him into a hug. "You're doing nothing wrong, dear," she says, her fingers running through his hair. "You're just impatient. It's only your first hunt."

"My only hunt," Steve mumbles, resting his head on his mother's shoulder. "I don't want anyone else."

"You should enjoy it more, then," Debbie says, gently tugging on a few strands of his hair. "Don't get so caught up in your end goal. The longer the hunt takes, the more you'll savor your victory. Besides, he'll just be more passionate when he finally breaks."

"Well," Steve says, "Eddie is cute when he's flustered. And when he's jealous. He has great potential, by the way, I mean, he really wants to kill Pubert, I think."

"I'm sure it's nothing Pubert doesn't deserve," Debbie says lightly. "Anyway, I think you're doing just fine, Steve. From what you've told me, Eddie isn't going anywhere anytime soon."

"Should I try harder, though?"

Debbie thinks for a moment, humming softly as she considers the question. "How about this," she says, perking up some as the idea comes to her, "Invite Eddie to dinner on Friday. I'll get a look at him myself, and if he still hasn't cracked by the end of the night, you can crank things up a notch."

Steve slowly nods, turning the suggestion over in his head. He wanted Eddie to meet his mother anyway, especially since he already met Fester. This would also be another opportunity to spend more time with Eddie alone. In Steve's room. With the door closed.

And maybe something will finally happen.

"Okay," Steve says, "I'll invite him."

-----

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@jinx-nanami, @solene1324, @nailbatwielder, @y4r3luv, @happylittletrees3, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @itcanbepalped,

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b side #steve deserves good parents actually #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #debbie jellinsky #addams family crossover #my writing

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