#which should've been obvious but it took me a year and a half to put it together so yeah

[skatiet]

On Grief and Loneliness (Excerpts From My Journal Since My Dad Died)

content warning: grief, loneliness, family member death, family member illness, suicidal ideation, existential crisis, loss of childhood home, animal death (nothing particularly graphic; just being thorough)

December 26, 2022

One month later… I miss him. That’s all there is to it, really. The immediate trauma of it all–seeing his face every time I close my eyes, hearing myself call out to him–has passed for the most part. Now it just feels like there is this empty space in my life. I keep half expecting to see a text or missed call from him, keep wanting to check in, even though I know he’s not there. Going back home and having him not be there… I try not to think too long or hard about it. It’s been a lot of that lately, just choosing not to think too much about it.

Christmas was low-key. I didn’t feel much of the magic of the holidays. Part of that is just because of getting older, I think. Next year, I want to be more festive. I just want to live life to the fullest to the extent that I can. I know my dad would be proud of me no matter what, so now I just want to make a life that I can be proud of, too.

I’ve had a few moments (or days) of really bad anxiety/depression, feeling like nothing is going right and it’s not worth it to keep trying, but I keep going, still. I am trying to be present and feel things as deeply as I can, especially the good things, and hopefully, I can find a balance between burying my sadness and feeling it to the point where I feel hopeless.

January 14, 2023

Often, grief is found in the little things, just like joy or love. I drink his tea and remember making it for him when he couldn’t do it himself, when standing was too difficult, when I was desperate for him to have something in his stomach. A splash of milk and a spoonful of honey or sometimes sugar. How he said I made it extra sweet. How I was adding as much milk, honey, and sugar as I could get away with, trying to give him as much energy and strength as I could. How he would fall asleep waiting for it to cool. How I had to remind him to drink. Reheating it again and again. The desperation those mugs held. Now, it is warm and comforting.

March 17, 2023

My dad loved Ireland and Boston and the town we lived in (all the places he was from). He loved rock music. He loved hiking. He loved stamps and antiques and magic tricks. He loved pizza and sushi and steak, lobster rolls and burgers and desserts. (He really loved food. He even liked trying vegetarian options and eating them with me.) He loved cats and dogs and owls. He loved people; he saw the good in everyone. He loved my sister and me. And we love him.

March 24, 2023

The wind is loud, and everyone is safe inside their homes, and I am safe, too, but this doesn’t feel like home.

June 14, 2023

It hits me that I’ve lost so much all at once– a family member, a home, so many things that used to be mine. I’ve lived so many places that it feels impossible to settle in, to feel secure. So much of my life has been spent on the outside, always feeling like an afterthought, never a first choice, and I wonder if I’ve ever belonged anywhere.

June 15, 2023

I’m not a holiday person. At some point, I realized that assigning too much meaning to one particular day is a great way to end up disappointed. It doesn’t matter what I think, though. Every calendar will still tell me what I’m meant to be celebrating, or what someone is meant to be celebrating who believes in something I don’t. I don't believe in much, actually. That never felt more true than after my father died. I told my mom I don't believe anything happens to people when they die, that I think they are just gone, and she cried. I don't cry much, either, especially not when other people do. I cry because I’m frustrated, because I’m stressed, because I’m tired. I cried when my dad died, but not as often as I felt I should in the days that followed. I know grief is individual and no way of grieving is right or wrong or normal. That doesn’t make me feel any less alone when my grief isn’t crying, isn’t seeing signs of him or talking to him, because to me, he isn’t there. He is gone. My grief is anger. It’s frustration that I will never see him again. It’s missing him, and it’s aching, and it’s emptiness. It’s a hole in my life where he used to be. It's the time I spent on phone calls now allotted to something else. It’s one less text message to send, one less person to tell stories to. It's the unsettling feeling that my life has already been the best it will ever be, because he will never be in it again. It's listening to songs and looking at photos and feeling something that doesn’t feel like enough. It's wanting to comfort the other people who lost him because they are sadder than I am. It's having regrets about how it all happened and then realizing it’s pointless to feel that way because it’s over. There's no changing any of it, only learning from it. And feeling like nothing matters because everyone I know will die, and I will die, and what’s the point of anything anyway. I'm terrified to forget anything about him. I write down every memory that comes up so I won't lose it. I hold tightly to the things he gave me and the things I have of his. I am halfway waiting for it to hit me, to feel some overwhelming wave of sadness, too late for anyone to understand it, but I also think maybe it will never come.

July 13, 2023

Grief spirals outward. Hope spirals inward. But I don’t want the grief to lessen. It makes me feel real. It makes me feel human.

August 26, 2023

Buyer beware–I don’t believe in ghosts, but the last two owners died in this house, and I know a part of me will live here forever.

September 1, 2023

Four bedrooms. Four names in permanent marker on the workbench in the basement, four letters each. Four cats buried out back by the property line.

December 4, 2023

A year passes, and every change creates a new version of me that he’ll never know, and how different can I become before I’m no longer the person he knew at all?

May 15, 2024

I feel like I’m cursed to forever be running in this race where no matter how hard I try, how fast I move, I will always be in second place (if even that). Never the first choice, never the favorite. They think they know what loneliness is, but they are discussing it with each other while I watch from afar. I can grow and reach and try and try and try, but I will never be enough.

May 19, 2024

How am I supposed to be a grown adult but still have the same feelings as when I was a child? Is this just going to be my entire life, never feeling like anyone actually cares about me? I don’t want to give up on people, but I am so fucking tired of trying and never getting what I want in return.

July 2, 2024

I’ve tried to make it sound pretty, tried to make it sound wise, twisted and turned the words around in my head, but I can only come back to: the only person who ever made me their first choice is dead and gone forever. And I don’t know how to make that sound nice.

[ladymordecai]

I have been reading DC comics fic again for the first time in like . . . a decade-ish? because I'm a masochist, apparently. Finding new stuff and reading old favorites and being reminded of canon and all my thinky thoughts about superheroes and specifically Tim Drake, because he's my Robin and I imprinted (much like he did).

canon has put that boy through the wringer in the last decade, including smushing like, all his tragedies from 15 years of comics into like, ten seconds of comics time. I was reminded of the storyline where his dad found out he was robin and threatened batman into making him give it up, which at the time pissed me off because it was both a clear illustration of what a terrible parent jack drake was (in a way the narrative itself didn't seem to get??), and also because everything about it was so obviously For The Plot.

There was like, nothing in that storyline that I remember that actually came from the characters. It read like the writer or editors or whatever TPTB* decided they wanted to write a story about robin's dad finding out about robin and making him stop**. it's an obvious story for the only robin at the time who wasn't an orphan, and one of few kid heroes whose parents didn't know about them, and also it was Batman and Robin! The Drama! it so clearly had nothing to do with TIM when he should've been the main character, and it made me so angry, and then that anger was compounded because TPTB used it as an excuse to screw over Steph and then make the only non-orphan robin into an orphan, i guess just because. I hated it then, I hate it now.

BUT

I have a lot more perspective now, and have read a lot more (both published work and fanfic), and I have had a thought that I cannot believe I didn't have back then and that I've never heard before anywhere. (which doesn't mean somebody else hasn't had it, i just haven't found it)

One of my core objections about the storyline is that Tim's dad didn't figure out his ID, he just found the Robin uniform in Tim's room. Which is so out of character that it should invalidate the entire storyline.

This is the kid who wore another mask under his mask to prevent his other superhero friends from SEEING HIS FACE--not knowing his ID, just seeing his face. The kid who kept his identity from goddamn ORACLE for a while there. The kid who was able to sneak out and photo-stalk BATMAN AND ROBIN for literal years as a preteen and never get caught. Nobody ever knew anything about Robin III unless Tim made a deliberate decision to reveal the information. This had been a cornerstone of his character for 20+ years. Robin III's secret identity was arguably second only to Oracle's in-universe.

Yet that entire story rested on the idea that Jack Drake, inattentive parent maybe-kinda-misguidedly-authoritarianly trying to connect with his son for the first time ever, snoops in Tim's room and finds proof that Tim is Robin?? AND that Bruce Wayne is Batman?!?? Tim, whose best friends still call him "Rob," left proof of his identity and Batman's somewhere his civilian father could find it??!??!

There is NO WAY THAT MAKES SENSE. There is no version of canon in which that makes sense.

Things that would make sense: Is that old poster of the Flying Graysons how you met the Waynes? or Hey So I Noticed You Have Three Half-Empty First Aid Kits, Talk To Me? or Dad! Did you read my freaking diary and find whatever normal-teenager angst I wrote as a cover and possibly also some real civvie-ID angst mixed in?! Not cool!

OR

Somebody set that up.

That was a freaking supervillain plot.

There's like. No other explanation for what Tim's dad found. Either a supervillain figured out Tim's ID and took him off the playing board in the way most likely to disrupt as many other superheroes as possible, or a supervillain who didn't know Robin's ID mind-controlled him into revealing it for nefarious reasons.

So uh. I really don't want to get into writing DC fic, because I have shit to do that is not that, but SOMEBODY NEEDS TO TELL THAT STORY. Like, either all the characters involved don't contract plot stupidity and thus realize there's something hinky going on, or at some point after that in canon new evidence comes to light or an existing rogue says something suspicious or . . . there's just so many possibilities.

AND THEY'RE ALL MORE INTERESTING AND MORE IN-CHARACTER THAN CANON, DC!!!

(the creators involved in that storyline should feel very very lucky i don't remember who they are and am too lazy to look them up. because i would bring up how bad they are at storytelling every chance i got, forever)

--translations for fandom young'uns and some snark:

*TPTB: the powers that be, shorthand for the vast array of people in charge of multi-creator stories run by companies, such as tv shows, movies, and comics

**Buffy did it better

[writing-nebula]

Someone Else (Swapped Destinies)

Something wasn't right.

He'd spent years learning to tell when something was wrong, when a place was too loud or too quiet, when to avoid people and when it was okay to approach them, when he had too much attention. He knew when something was wrong, unsafe.

But this wasn't wrong, exactly. Just… different.

He didn't like it.

It had started the day after he finished the puzzle, and because of that he'd originally attributed it to sleep deprivation- it had been 4 am when he finally finished it, after all- but it was now the next day, and the strange feeling of something different had persisted.

Logically, he knew that whatever it was had to be related to the puzzle somehow, and so the way to stop it would be to just take it off.

…But when he'd put it on for the first time, it had felt so… normal.

The added weight should've thrown him off or at least been somewhat uncomfortable- but it wasn't.

Having something so large against his chest should've been obtrusive, getting in the way all the time- but it wasn't.

It felt like he'd been wearing it for years instead of barely two days, and for that reason alone, Seto couldn't bring himself to take it off. Things were so rarely familiar and not bad at the same time, he was reluctant to lose the feeling, even if it was also strange. 

He went to school, and it was the same as it always was. People talking about him behind his back, people talking about Yugi Muto even though he wasn't even in class today, half the students trying to secretly play duel monsters during class.

Joey Wheeler was being a constant bother as usual, trying to speak to him in every class they shared, following him in the hallways, challenging him to a duel every chance he got. As if beating him would be any kind of challenge, Wheeler couldn't duel his way out of a paper bag. 

But ever since he'd discovered that Seto used Blue-Eyes, he'd been practically begging for a chance to see it in action, no matter how many times he was refused. It was honestly becoming less irritating and more pathetic the longer it went on. 

At least it was getting easier to ignore. He had to give up eventually.

Finally, the last bell rang, and Seto was on autopilot as he stood up and briskly made his way through the halls, going through the mental list of strange things he'd noticed since he put on the puzzle. 

I've gotten incredibly brief dizzy spells, but there are quite a few other things that could be causing those. There's the strange familiarity with it, I still don't have an answer for that… Sometimes I feel as if someone is standing over my shoulder, but it isn't causing me any added anxiety, which makes that difficult to figure out as well. Perhaps I should ask Mokuba if he's-

"Seto?"

His brother's voice startled him out of his thoughts, and Seto blinked as he took in his surroundings, surprised to find himself by the gate already- he must've been more lost in his head than he realized.

Mokuba was looking at him with a worried little frown, so he tried to relax somewhat, nodding for them to start walking and just waiting for Mokuba to be ready. 

"Seto, you've been acting weird lately," Mokuba started purposefully, about two minutes into their walk home. "For a couple days now, ever since you finished that puzzle."

"Have I?" Seto questioned, genuinely curious what he'd noticed.

Maybe I should take the puzzle off, if it's been causing such obvious symptoms…

His brother nodded firmly and pulled a notepad from his bag, flipping to a specific page and scanning over a list of things before nodding.

"I've noticed times where you'll stop speaking in the middle of a sentence, look confused for a few seconds, then start talking again like you never stopped," he started reading off, "I've seen you stop walking and look around like you didn't know where you were, only seeming to recognize the place after a few seconds. Seven times I've seen you stumble out of nowhere, six times you've hit your head trying to look in somewhere you know you have to bend over for, and there have been… Fourteen times that you've reached for something and misjudged the distance, usually resulting in you knocking said thing over- and that's just from yesterday and this morning." Mokuba looked up at him again as he paused, his frown deeper this time. 

…Alright, now he could understand why Mokuba was worried. He'd noticed that he'd been a bit more clumsy, but hadn't chalked it up to anything serious- except apparently it was happening a lot more than he realized.

How could I just not notice these things happening? Have I been zoning out that often?

"And just now, in the courtyard!" Mokuba continued when Seto didn't reply, "you're always going on about how much that boy Joey annoys you, and you want him to leave you alone- but then today you exchange numbers with him out of nowhere! What's up with that?"

Seto stopped dead in his tracks, every thought process halting at once when he heard those words.

I didn't do that. I wouldn't do that, he's been nothing but a pest, I'd be happy to never hear that stupid accent again-

He fumbled to pull out his phone, barely hearing Mokuba still talking next to him, hardly even breathing as he navigated to his contacts-

I wouldn't exchange numbers with him, I would never-

But the name Joey Wheeler stared back at him, attached to a number he'd definitely never seen before.

"....I didn't do that," he mumbled to himself, blinking rapidly like that would somehow change what he was seeing, but the name and number remained, like they were silently taunting him. 

I didn't do that.

Seto shook his head sharply and shoved his phone back in his pocket, moving forward again without even acknowledging Mokuba.

But Mokuba saw it happen, this isn’t a case of Wheeler stealing my phone- not that he would've ever had the chance.

He saw it happen, but I have absolutely no memory of it happening- and I wouldn't have done it.

Without thinking, he reached up to grab the rope the puzzle was attached to- and he nearly froze up all over again.

…If I didn't do it, that means someone else did.

What the hell have I gotten myself into? 

[gossipgirls]

oh i totally agree with you on chair and treacherous, it fits them insanely well. i feel like begin again really only works when the couple join the show later (like brulian in oth) so it would be really hard for any gg ship to fit. would you do the same thing with ships/characters for folklore (or any other album lol)?

it's in my s1 chair playlist! the entire second verse is so crazy for them. and begin again is so cute for brulian 🥺

sure, i'll do folklore!

the 1: serenate (i made a gifset of this), but MAJOR rufly vibes too. a bigger dair fan than i would understandably love this song for them, and i do think this feels like how dan would always think about her. "i guess you never know, never know, and if you wanted me, you really should've showed."

cardigan: chair (again, made a gifset), especially imo in light of her s5 arc. but this song mainly screams van der baizen to me, because she knew him, leaving like a father, running like water... ugh. "you put me on and said i was your favourite."

the last great american dynasty: i edited this in response to one of the most galaxy brain requests that anybody on this website has ever gotten––the rhodes women! "free of women with madness, their men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me."

exile: serenate 3x22-s4. it really suits serenate's "right person, wrong time" angst and that dull, anticlimactic, disappointing way in which they ended (which was... pretty on-the-nose for serenate, as far as s3 goes). i also think of danessa with this one, but it would be more them if dan had actually like... seemed to care at all when they broke up. also, rufly? "it took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it, holding all this love out here in the hall."

my tears ricochet: chair in 3x17... "cursing my name, wishing i stayed, you turned into your worst fears."

mirrorball: this song is so serena it hurts. i also made an edit for this. this makes me soooo l3k2;423ljr2orj2lrl. "i'm still on that trapeze, i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me."

seven: i think the nostalgia of this is so blair; that feeling that you peaked long ago, that you've been as good as you're ever gonna get. which is so tied up with her relationship with serena in ways i'm too tired to express, but... it's a blairena love song on some level. "i used to scream ferociously any time i wanted."

august: serenate and nobody but serenate ever. there has never been a more accurate, more perfect song for serenate. every word is them. for so long, nate was really just... SO CONTENT TO LIVE FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL. a year and a half later and it still makes me go UGGGHHHHHHHHHH. i made a gifset for this too. "wanting was enough, for me, it was enough to live for the hope of it all."

this is me trying: this song could be from the perspective of literally any character, honestly. blair (i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere), chuck (could've followed my fears all the way down), nate (maybe i don't quite know what to say), dan (my words shoot to kill when i'm mad, i have a lot of regrets about that), jenny (i got wasted like all my potential)... but mostly, i always think of serena. and i always think of this as her song to blair. "i didn't know if you'd care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that."

illicit affairs: i mean, serena and tripp is the obvious answer, since they're the show's only big, full-fledged affair plot, and the condescension mentioned in the bridge definitely fits. but i don't really wanna give tripp this song that i love so much, so i’m gonna give it to s1-2 rufly! "it's born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times."

invisible string: okay, so similar to what the ask here says about begin again, this song only really works with couples that meet later in life, so serenate, despite being the main ship that imo has the truly sweet, easy vibes that this song demands, is out. dair can suit this one nicely. and rufly, maybe. "were there clues i didn't see?"

betty: nate and blair is pretty obvious here (especially with august being serenate), but there was some discussion last summer about this as a 2x01 chair song. my favourite interpretation would be blairena. :') regardless, baby blair is clearly a certified BETTY. "i'm only seventeen, i don't know anything, but i know i miss you."

peace: there's something to be said here for chair's whole "we could never be boring thing" for sure, but that's not really the core of the song. i really see this as a potential serenate song, not really because we actually saw them deal with topics like this (though we did see the roots of this in 3x14), but because i feel like if they'd gotten back together and been endgame, this would have been the most compelling and mature direction in which to take them. nate being so easy and sweet and loyal and serena feeling so... Not That and coming to terms with her self-destructive instincts and the fact that she is way more a hurricane human than she likes to think lol. BLAH, IT JUST WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE IS ALL. "your integrity makes me seem small, you paint dreamscapes on the wall, i talk shit with my friends, it's like i'm wasting your honour."

hoax: chair, big time. "don't want no other shade of blue but you, no other sadness in the world would do."

the lakes: this is kind of serena's lifelong dream, finding the right person to run away from it all with. so, van der baizen. "i don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you."

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 08 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

<- Previous part (07)

Next part (09)->

{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

Home isn't Always a Place

You're pushed forward, a gun on your back. You step down the ramp, the sunlight blinding you for a while. The headquarters were built here, in some sort of field. There as soldiers everywhere, and they're immediately aware of you. Of course they are, you're a threat. With a gun on your hand, seven bullets means seven men on the ground, crying in pain. You hardly miss.

“Sister!” A yell gets your attention, and you turn to its source. Harley comes running, throwing her arms around you. “So good to see you. Where have you been?”

In paradise. “Same place as I've been for the last year. Isn't it obvious?” Shrugging your shoulders casually, you try not to look to misplaced. Wait. Why would you look misplaced here?

“Well, now we get to have fun and some family bonding.” As she speaks, a soldier walking by gets her attention. “Hey, you. Can you help me with something?” She says in a flirting tone and walks away.

“Now it's a party.” A rough voice says, and you soon recognize the owner.

“Killer.” You greet him with a smile and a quick hug. “Nice to see you'll be here to have my back. Who else is here?”

“Deadshot is arguing with a soldier. Diablo is seated in some corner whining.” He smiles, gesturing at his left. “Long time no see. How's life?”

“Life's fine. As fine as it could be.” You start walking over where Deadshot is, watching as the soldier rolls his eyes. Floyd is gesticulating a lot, which means he's pissed.

“I won't have it like it was the last time. Now go, be a good puppy and tell this to your boss.” He says, turning his back at the man. “Havoc. Hi.” He says, exchanging a glance with Killercroc. “Ready for another stupid mission?”

“It's not like we have a choice, right? I–”

“Listen up, assholes! Your dirty things are in these boxes. So change and let's get the hell out of here. You have five minutes.” A man shouts, and everyone rolls their eyes.

You make your way to your things, and as you expected, your box is filled with your old clothes. All in shades of lilac, purple and pink. As usual, the soldiers just stand around you, not caring too much, as you change. You never liked that. Harley doesn't seem to care, and many eyes lay on her. But you do care. And you care a lot more now.

“Guys. A little help?”

Floyd and Killer grab some of the dark plastic bags that lie on the the floor, as you take a dark purple sleeveless jumpsuit. You move to stand near a wall, and the guys turn their backs at you, holding the bags high so you're shielded from anyone's eyes. They did the same on the first time, and you're very thankful for that.

“Thanks, guys. I'm done.” You tell them, fixing the jumpsuit on your body. The hard material makes you feel strong, like Havoc again.

“You're welcome.” Killer says.

“To the trucks! Now!” A man barks and you have no choice but to do as he says.

All of you go in the back of one of the trucks, together. Harley seems to be the only one excited about it, since she's trying to flirt with a soldier named Tom. You wonder what Joker would think about that. Oh. He's stuck on a bed for the rest of his life. He won't be saying anything, you bet.

As you move through the town, you can't help but think about what you did before leaving the house. The kiss. You can't believe you actually kissed him. What in hell were you thinking? You're very brave to do such a crazy thing like that. And you should've at least stayed to see his expression. To see if he was mad or not. But even if he didn't like it, you trust him enough to know he won't break his promise. He still keep helping you after you beat him up twice, so it's not a peck in the lips that will make him change his mind.

Being sure of this is a weird feeling. Your head is so much clearer now, you're not as scared as you were. And you're liking who you're becoming. This mission is just a inconvenience. It'll be over and you'll head back to the house, back to the way of getting a real life. A good life, a life you'll actually enjoy having.

You stop suddenly, and you're ordered out of the truck. “There's a small group here. Eyes open. They might have put mines here so... Don't blow up.”

You get two guns, one in your hand as you walk the perimeter. Harley stays close to Tom, but it doesn't bother you. You walk near Killercroc and Floyd, your head too far from this place.

“Hey.” Floyd elbows you. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I'm just... Thinking.” Shrugging your shoulders, you need to focus on being casual. “How's you daughter?”

“She's great. Best student of her class and she's in a hella good school. The best of Gotham.” He looks at the sides, making sure nobody is too close. Killercroc is a few steps ahead and he doesn't really care about these stuff anyways. “You will never guess who put her there. And also guaranteed her a good University, any one she chooses.”

“That's freaking amazing, Floyd. Who did all that?” It couldn't be Amanda. She's not that good.

“Batman.” The mention of Bruce makes you blush, your heart aching from his absence. You look down, running a hand through your hair.

“Batman? In like the man you hate with all your strength?”

“How can I hate someone who does that for my kid? No, no. I respect him. Even admire him now, doing this after I tried to kill him half a dozen times.”

“Floyd, he's...” You need to let out out your chest, and having someone to talk about it would be nice. And you know you can trust Floyd, even more now that his hate for Bruce is gone. So the words roll out your tongue in a whisper as you both stop walking. “...Batman is the one helping me... Rehabilitating me.”

“Oh. So the rumors are true. I knew they took you somewhere else, just didn't know where.”

“You two. Walk.” Someone says and you start moving again.

“Yes, he... I'm going well. I...” Floyd looks down at you, raising one eyebrow. “He said it was mostly just me, but he did help. He treated me with kindness, believed me. I don't know how to explain but I'm different.”

“I did notice something was off with you. But I'd never guess.”

“Really? I was trying to keep it cool.” As you speak, three man come from the corner, immediately shooting at you. You duck behind a car, peaking just enough to lay eyes on them and aim. But they're easily put down without you having to shoot.

“All clear!” Harley says, smiling.

“So...” You continue when you start walking downtown again. “I didn't want to come, but he promised me it would be the last time.”

“Uhm... He's making promises?”

“Yes.” You don't get his tone. “He's very kind to me. Unlike anyone else... He even threw me a birthday party.”

“Happy birthday by the way, and sorry it's a little late.” You turn the corner, carefully at first. “How kind?”

“Kind.” What else can you say? That his touch is so soft, so gentle that you couldn't help but fall in love with him? “He... Cares. I think.”

“You fell for him.” Floyd bursts out, and it's not even a question. It's an affirmative. How did he get there so fast?

But you're fast to dissimulate. “What? No.”

“It's called Stockholm Syndrome.”

“It's not like that!” You exclaim. “You know I've been kidnapped before. Twice by the Joker, who kept me hostage for five months... I did spent three of them just to play tricks on his mind and get some of his money but you get what I mean. Batman didn't held me hostage. He spoke to me, helped me get clean of the drugs they used to give me at Belle Reve, he... He won't let the door locked anymore. He wants me to be able to live in society again.”

“I was teasing you. But since you went into great lengths to defend your relationship with him... You did fell for him.”

“Shut up, Floyd.” You mutter, too much on your head. Increasing your pace, you reach Killer, walking beside him.

Your feelings are pretty clear, as much as you don't want to admit it. And hear it like that just makes it even worse. The kiss... All you think is about that kiss you shouldn't have given.

You're thankful when the action starts, because you have something else to focus on. It doesn't resumes in shooting, you eventually get into hand to hand combat. And you can deal with it pretty well. Of course, it's easier because the guys have your back. You guess they somehow noticed you have no pleasure on doing this anymore. Diablo, as usual, doesn't participate much.

When you stop, hours later, you feel your body complaining a little, but you know it'll get worse. But you also know you can deal with that. And you will, because this time you have somewhere nice to return to.

The commotion goes on for a couple of days. It gets messy, and it only gets worse when the granades start falling from the skies. You're all bruised up again, but not as bad as you were in the hell hole. How is it possible that you're in the middle of a war and you're not as much hurt as you were inside a prison?

As you approach the terrorists base, things get worse, and even the soldiers seem to get anxious. So that means they're extra evil to you. One of them denied you a bottle of water, what made Killercroc almost get his head blown out for arguing with the man. That reminds you that you don't have an explosive this time, but the soldiers told you they will put a bullet through your head if you try anything. But they can rest their minds because the only thing you want is to end this soon.

A week later, the soldiers decide to settle for the night, and push you into a half destroyed house. Harley uses all the hot water, so you have to endure the cold. But it feels good to clean up, and you can take a look at your wounds. A few cuts and purple bruises, nothing you can't deal with. The only bad part of the times you stop to rest a little before start moving again, is that your mind involuntary floats back to Bruce. You can't help it, everything comes back. When he left his gala to dance with you, the dreams, the birthday surprise, the kiss... Why can't you take this man out of your head?

You're alone in a room where half of the wall is down. The others are downstairs, but you want to be alone. You can see the stars from here, and you wonder if Bruce is staring at them too. “Hey, freak.” A soldier comes in, throwing a small radio at you, that looks like a very rustic cellphone. “Someone wants to speak to you. You have five minutes.”

Watching as he leaves, you lie back on the floor, approaching the radio from your ear and mouth. You know who it is, and your stomach goes crazy, with a thousand butterflies flying around.

“Hi.” He answers. “How are you?”

His voice is so familiar, like home. “I'm surviving. Enduring. Just want this to be over soon.”

“It will. And you'll be back here.”

“I hope so... We're near their base now. So only a couple of days more and we'll reach it. Take them down.” You close your eyes, hoping that his voice will be enough to make you dream of him tonight. You would give anything to have him here... Or to be back home. You mean, back at his house. “How's everything there?" Stupid question, he's fine, everything is fine.

“It's weird not to have you here.”

A smile comes to your lips. “Is it?” You whisper, taking a deep breath. You're scared you'll lose control, and the words will roll out your tongue. “Our time is almost over but... Thank you, I... It's good to speak to you.”

“Just remember I'm waiting for you.” You hear his heavy breath, as if he's suffering too, tired, exhausted.

Then you hear a little static, and you know he's gone... There's a weight on your chest and you can't help but let a single tear roll down your cheek. You keep the radio near your face, as if you could hold Bruce with a little longer. “I miss you so much.” You say, barely recognizing your weak voice.

“I miss you too.” The sudden answer scares you, your eyes widened.

“I- I thought you hanged up.”

“No, I'm still here. And I miss you very much, sweetheart.”

The pet name makes you lose it, and now you're crying. “Bruce, I–”

“Time's up, Havoc.” The soldier comes back, hand reached out. “Say goodbye to your protector.”

“I gotta go. I... I miss you.” You burst out before another sentence, far more dangerous, leaves your lips. You give the man the radio back, curling up on the floor, bracing yourself.

From tomorrow, you'll fight harder. You need to go back.

• • •

“Their base–” The soldier who announces is shot in the throat, right beside you. You're duck behind the barricades, waiting for the big guns to arrive. You cannot approach with the risk of being blown up, and they're not allowed to spend you just yet.

“That's it. Shoot to kill, that's an order.” The commandant yells, and the bodies start dropping faster. But not from your gun. You keep aiming for their knees, but another bullet always finds the man you leave collapsed on the floor. “Are you deaf, slut?” He barks at you, leaving his post and pulling you up by the shoulders. “Don't you think you can trick me just because the Bat took you into his wings. Do what you do best and kill those terrorists.”

“I don't kill, sarg.” You tell him, making your way back to your post. But the grabs your arm violently, squeezing right on a wound you got. You groan, trying to pull away.

“You don't kill? Nice try. You will do as I say!” He yells right to your face, and you can feel his disgusting breath. But you won't back down, and you won't take a life just because he told you to.

“I don't kill.” You repeat, standing as tall as you can, head up raised up to look the man in the eye.

His gun makes sudden contact with your face, in the apple on the right cheek. Your head jerks to the side, and you're knocked down, a sharp pain spreading through the skull.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Killercroc comes running, and you see through the corner of your eyes as he engages in a fight with the man.

You're done here. Crawling away from the fight, you hide yourself behind a building, seated on the floor and resting your back against the wall. They seem to be dealing with that very well, so they don't need you. You're tired of fighting, tired of being in pain.

“Havoc?” Floyd calls, startling you a little. “Are you ok? Your cheek is–”

I'm (Y/N). “Yes, I'm ok. But I'm not going back there.”

“You'll have to tell them you're feeling unwell or else–”

“I don't care, ok? I just need to go back home. I'm sick and tired of this shit.” You burst out.

“Home?” He questions, not seeming too excited to head back to the battlefield.

“Yeah, just... I'm confused, I'm hurt. I'm not thinking straight.”

“I have to head back. Sorry.”

Nodding, you close your eyes, taking in the explosions and shooting. The only thing you want is peace now, silence... Bruce's arms. A heavy, cold rain starts falling, and you're soaking wet in a matter of seconds. Your head spins around, and you lie down, eyes closed tight.

Suddenly, you're pulled into a heavy sleep.

• • •

“Lucky bitch. We should be taking her back to where she belongs.” A rough voice wakes you up, and you sit up, eyes opening slowly. You're in a truck, in the back, on the metal floor. Your hands are tied by huge metal handcuffs, that cover both hands, reaching the middle of your forearm. It's heavy.

“Let's teach her a lesson. Just like old times.” A man say, and you recognize two out of six, both were your guards in Belle Reve.

“Don't leave too many bruises. She'll be with Batman in ten minutes, he'll notice.”

Ten minutes... You're going back. This truck in taking you back. Lowering your head, you smile, breathing deeply.

“She was with the Task Force. He'll think she got them there.”

“Fine then.” You're pulled back, a dark, heavy fabric covering your head. “This is just to remind you of who you are, Havoc.”

“And to give you a nice memory of home.”

The beating starts, and your body easily collapses to the floor again. But you're lifted up, again and again. You should fight. You should do something, but you can't. You're not the superpowerful girl you thought you were. You break too, and you get hurt. And you are hurt, with countless cuts and wounds through your body. When you were high on whatever they gave you, you could keep moving. Now you can't. Being vulnerable, weak, feels awful, but there's just no strength in you. You just need to make it through the last ten minutes that separate you from home.

Home.

When exactly did the house became that?

Or is it Bruce? Is he the one becoming your home? Is it even possible? You hope it is.

×

@redwolf-7 @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

the 1

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s relationship throughout the years.

Word count: 2404

Warnings: smut implied, loss of virginity implied, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of abandonment

Previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 26

Year: 2020

Location: Brooklyn, New York

Elizabeth sat on the floor of her mostly empty childhood bedroom. She hasn't been back since Christmas, and that was almost 8 months ago. Her parents called her last month letting her know they are putting the house up for sale, deciding to move to a cottage upstate where it's much quieter.

They had asked if she wanted them to pack up her old bedroom for her, but she told them she would make the trip out to them to spare any storage space the stuff might take up, knowing that only a few special items would need to be kept.

She was sat on the floor going through old photos, the last thing she had to do before she would be done.

Photos from the time she spent here. A pile for which photos she will take back home, and a pile that her parents will keep. She was finally down to the last three photos, all flipped over on their back.

The first one scribbled in her mother's handwriting read:

Steve, Betty, & James. Halloween 2001.

She shakes her head at the nickname, she hasn't been called Betty in almost a decade. The nickname was tarnished, no longer having any special meaning.

She really should've kept it only for family.

She flipped the photo over. There was seven year-old Elizabeth, standing in between a young Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes both had their arms draped around her shoulders. All dressed up as pirates.

She smiled at the memory.

So young. So innocent. So unknowing of what the future held.

She focuses mostly on the boy to her right.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Her first friend here. Her first best friend. Her first kiss.

Her first boyfriend. Her first time having sex. Her first heartbreak.

The boy at the time she didn't know would completely change not only her life, but who she was.

Her first best friend here, she immediately thinks of their first meeting. So kind. Him insisting on teaching her how to ride a bike. Took him two weeks but he did it. That halloween was a memorable one, for both good and bad reasons.

She saw a different side of Bucky after seeing first-hand how his father behaved, due to his alcoholism.

Years later Elizabeth had learned Bucky's father's deepest secret, he had struggled with alcoholism, starting two years before her family moved across the street. It was a secret his family had kept until that Halloween weekend in 2001.

Bucky and his family had spent the weekend with Elizabeth's family, while his uncles came to take his dad away. His father went to go live with Bucky's grandmother and uncles to try and get sober. He returned home after three months, but sadly the disease was a lot stronger than that. His father was fighting a long battle that he was sadly losing.

After a grueling year his mother made the ultimate decision to divorce his father, not wanting to put herself or her children through the dangers once again. Bucky's maternal grandparents moved in to help his now single mother out, seeing as his father was no longer in the picture.

His dad would pop in from time to time never consistent with his visits, after Bucky turned 13 and Becca 10, his dad stopped coming around all together.

His father ended up meeting a woman who helped him get sober, they later on got married and started a new family of their own. Forgetting about the one he had abandoned.

The next photo was dated:

Summer of 2008.

The summer right before they started high school. That was the summer that they all reached peak puberty. Bucky and Steve shot up like weeds, while Elizabeth grew slightly in height. They no longer looked like the pre-pubescent tweens, and officially looked teenagers embarking on their first year of high school.

It was a candid photo of Bucky and Elizabeth at an end of summer party Steve had at his house.

The night of their first kiss together, and Elizabeth's first kiss in general.

It wasn't a cliche kiss that happened because a game of spin the bottle. It was a little more private than that.

Bucky and Elizabeth made their way back home on that cool summer night. The nights had just started to get cooler as the months made the transition from August to September.

"Do you think Steve knows how obvious he's making his crush on Peggy is?" Elizabeth asks breaking the silence of the walk.

"Probably not, I mean the punk is way to oblivious to notice that Peggy also has a crush on him," Bucky laughs, "Plus he's too chicken to even make a move."

"He's just shy," Elizabeth smiles, trying to defend her other best friend.

"Well he isn't going to get the girl by being shy," Bucky says.

"That's what you think," she winks at him.

"What do you know?" he asks her with an accusatory tone.

"That Peggy is going to ask him to go to the movies tomorrow night," Elizabeth recalled from her earlier conversation with Peggy, "That's why she stayed to help cleanup."

"Well then, I stand corrected," he bows his head.

"We should do that," Bucky says after a few moments of silence as they round the corner their houses now in sight.

"Help clean Steve's house?" Elizabeth asked confused.

"No, go to the movies."

"We already do that."

"I meant just us two, no Steve or Rebecca to tag along," Bucky reiterates.

"Like a date," he quietly says looking at his hands.

"Oh," it dawns on Elizabeth.

She felt a blush creep on her cheeks. The cool breeze not helping the warmth spreading throughout her face.

Elizabeth has had a crush on Bucky for as long as she can remember. She just always thought he would never see her in that light. Compared to the girls he's used to liking, she was the polar opposite. Her skin wasn't as pale as their's, she had what her mother called a "Puerto Rican" tan due to where her family lineage is originally from. Her dark curls were always everywhere, even when she had them contained. It's not like she stood out per se, they were surrounded by diversity. She just didn't look like the girls Bucky had a crush on.

"You want to go out on a date, with me?" she hesitantly asks.

"Yeah, I do," he smiles finally looking up to meet her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I like you," he says confused why she would ask that.

"It's okay if you don't want to, I understand," he quickly says when she doesn't say anything. He goes back to looking down and kicking at invisible rocks.

"No," she says grabbing his hand, making them both stop in front of her house, "I do want that."

Bucky looks back up taken back by her response, "Really?"

"Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you," she smiled so big.

"Okay, wow. Cool," Bucky stumbles over his words, his smile matching her's.

"Tomorrow, you and I will go to the movies," he says, squeezing his hand that was still being held by her.

"Perfect."

"Perfect," he whispered staring in her eyes, he glanced down to her lips then back to her eyes.

Elizabeth noticed bucking glancing at her lips, she couldn't help herself and do the same thing.

Bucky grabbed her other hand as he slowly pulled her closer to his body. Leaning his head slightly down. Both closed their eyes and slowly met each other half way, their lips touching in a soft kiss.

What felt like hours, but was only seconds they pulled away slowly. Smiles gracing their faces.

"I'll call you tomorrow for the details," Bucky says.

"Okay. Goodnight," Elizabeth says, still holding onto Bucky's hands.

"Goodnight," Bucky smiles, letting go of her hands before jogging across the street.

Elizabeth had walked up to her porch and turned around to see Bucky turning around from his own porch. She waved and he waved back, their final goodbye for the night.

That was the perfect end to the summer before they had started high school. It was the start of something new and beautiful.

The last photo read:

Winnie and Keith's wedding. 11 Aug. 2010.

She flipped it over to see her and Bucky smiling dressed in formal attire, next to Steve and Peggy.

Bucky's mom did later remarry while they were in high school. She had met a lovely man named Keith, who loved her deeply and her children as if they were his own. He was a good man, someone Bucky really needed in his life.

The photo was taken during the reception. Bright smiles across all of their 16 year old faces.

Both couples had been dating for two years at that point and things were going great.

The smiles showcased how happy they all were. Probably had to do with what they all had planned after the wedding.

They had all convinced their parents into letting them stay at the hotel the reception was at that night, and Bucky would drive them all back home the following day. Their parents had agreed, the only rule is that the girls would stay in a room separately from the boys.

What they know wouldn't hurt them, right?

It was the night they were all planning on losing their virginity. Their hormones were racing, trying to keep it contained as to not draw attention to themselves:

After the wedding they all walked up to the floor they would be staying at. Bucky waited outside the girls' door as Elizabeth gathered her overnight bag, and Steve doing the same from the boys' room.

She walked out with her bag on her shoulder, and a smile on her face.

"Ready?" he asked, grabbing her bag from her shoulder.

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling the nerves start.

Steve walked up to them with his own bag, "See you guys in the morning," he smiled before walking into the room, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth could remember that night clearly. She had done a lot of prep beforehand, being an overachiever she needed to know what she was getting herself into. But nothing could prepare her for what had really happened.

It was filled with a lot of stumbling, awkward touches here and there. Both new to this sex thing. She's not going to lie and said it didn't hurt, she had prepared herself for it hurting. It wasn't the best sex she's had, but it was a moment she wouldn't forget.

After they were done they were cuddled in bed, Elizabeth's head resting on Bucky's chest as he smoothly raked his fingers across her arm.

"11:11, make a wish," Elizabeth whispered, closing her eyes.

"What'd you wish for?" Bucky asked.

"How many times do I have to tell you," she said, turning her body to lean on his chest to come face to face with him, "I can't tell you what I wish for, otherwise it won't come true."

"And how many times do I have to tell you, that that's not true," he teased.

"Well, you have yet to prove me wrong," she smiled.

"Come on, just this once."

"You," she stated, feeling the blush creep on her cheeks.

"What about me?"

"I wished for you," she says, "You and I. For us to have many more moments like this."

"Well doll, your wish is my command," he joked.

"I'm serious Bucky."

"So am I," his tone getting serious, "I love you Betty. It's you and me. Forever."

"Promise?" she held up her pinky.

"Promise." he linked his with hers.

They trusted each other. They were comfortable with each other. They had loved each other. And honestly that's all that mattered.

Now as an adult she realized how important your first time was. It was important that her first time was with Bucky, because she never regretted until she had.

She had really thought Bucky was the one. They would always talk about their futures together. What college they would attend together. When they would get married. Where they would live. How many kids they would have. All of it they had planned together. A future that didn't seem like just a dream.

Sadly with every first love comes every first heartbreak.

Her grandmother once told her that the greatest loves of all time were over now.

She had thought that when her relationship with Bucky had ended.

It truly felt like the end of the world. Like any breakup at that age felt like. She had sworn she would never feel love again. Her mother, Caterina telling her to just wait and see.

Caterina didn't believe in her own mother's words about greatest loves being over, because she was experiencing her's. She promised Elizabeth that she would experience her greatest love story when the time was right.

At the time Elizabeth didn't believe her mother. How could she when her heart was aching.

But like all the times before, her mother would be right.

She looked at  the last three photos in her hands. Without a second thought she placed the Halloween photo in the take pile and the other two in the parents' pile.

A soft knock on the door frame startled her, she looked behind to find the man she has called her's for the last few years. Her greatest love.

She couldn't help the smile that came across her face whenever she would see him.

"Ready?" he asks, a smile upon his face, as he leans up against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, let me just put these back in the box for my parents," she tells him cleaning up the photos and taking the ones she kept for herself.

"Look at this one I found," she says showing him the Halloween photo.

"Oh my gosh, we were so little," he smiles and laughs lightly raising his arm for her to go under, "Gosh I was such a dork."

"Was?" she playfully jokes, wrapping her arm around his waist and snuggling into his side as they head towards the stairs in each other's arms.

"Hey you fell in love with this dork," he jokes back.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way Steve," she smiles leaning up to kiss his lips.

[yaboymercury]

Gassy Lessons - Fifth class: Computer Technology

Jay knew his farting was getting better and Mr Watts was agreeing, but through his gassy persuasion he convinced Jay he could still get better. So since Jay's last training session with him he had been tasked with going back to basics and researching other ways to make himself fart more.

The opportunity to get this research done was in Jay's Computer technology class. His class had been tasked to do a trial run with some coding program, but Jay wasn't so invested in the class and the room was big enough for him to get a place a few seats away from anyone else so he took the opportunity to get some gassy research done.

Jay only got a chance to look through a couple fart themed webpages giving him nothing but basic information, when a notification of an email from the teacher popped up at the bottom of the screen. Mr Anderson was the one holding the class today, Jay hadn't had too many classes from the man but he was pretty sure he had a strong impression of what he was like. He had quite a twinkish build not being very muscular, covered half his cute face with chunky framed glassed and had curly pale blonde hair. He was a relatively softly spoken man and was never too assertive at least it seemed so to Jay, and the young teacher never seemed to be able to command a classroom.

Jay never really spoke to the teacher so the email came as a shock. When he opened it though his shock deepened.

'Jay Carter. Can you please keep to the schedule of today's class and refrain from any childish web searches, as the teacher we have screen tracking technology on all the computers to keep issues like this from occuring. Please start your proper work for the lesson.'

The level of polite assertion in the email surprised the student and he couldn't help but be a little embarrassed at getting caught. He gave the teacher sitting at the other end of the classroom a glare, but the man at the desk didn't notice him, he seemed to be typing something else giving the screen his full attention.

Jay gave up any attempt to spite the teacher and letting out a sigh of premature boredom, he closed his tab and went to open the coding program. However before he could even move the mouse again another email notification popped up from the teacher.

'Jay Carter. I take back my further request if you can display the fruits of your research as soon as possible, especially if you could thin out the number of students in the class. Either that or start coding.'

This was of course an unexpected turn for Jay and when he went to look at the teacher over the classroom he could see him staring straight back at him with a challenging look and a slight smile. Jay looked around the class, there were no guys in here he particularly cared about, and Jay didn't particularly care about his reputation either, and since his past escapades in his sports class maybe leaning into the gassy aspect of his personality would catch him some respect.

After a full day of classes Jay had been holding in his gas for a while anyway and it was ready to burst, so he leaned back in his chair stretching and whole doing so spread his legs apart and let loose.

FRAAAAARPP

The first reaction he got was from two friends sitting a couple seats away who both immediately looked over at him, one chuckling and the other just staring blankly.

"Oh you want some?" Jay questioned jokingly wafting it in their direction. The rancid stink finally hit them and they both started coughing in unison. Jay laughing decided to put the final nail in their coffin and aimed his butt in there direction still sitting.

RRRRRAAAAAAAAPP

Jay's newly developed brand of eggy stink made it's way to them and their coughing grew stronger. The mumbled something to eachother and stood up and left the classroom giving Jay a dirty look as they said some incomprehensible excuse to the teacher as they left the room. Jay glanced at the teacher who was chuckling lightly, the student was happy to entertain.

Obviously his gaseous fun was not as well received by the rest of the class, mostly whispering and giving him strange looks, but one of the class reps obviously wanted to take justice into their own hands striding over too Jay. The Prep was obviously caught off guard gagging a little as he entered the stinking cloud surrounding Jay who played dumb and gave the glaring class rep and surprised look.

"Is there a problem officer?" Jay asked.

Through a pinched nose Jay could make out "Mr Carter as a class rep I'm going to have to ask you to stop your expulsions they are reprehensibley rude and a distraction to our learning."

Smirking back Jay grabbed the boy's hand off his nose and in doing so made him stumble closer in a quieter voice he said to him almost seductively "I would hardly call this a distraction?" And he leaned forward in his chair and let rip.

BRRRRRRRAPPPPPT

The other boy got a whiff of the toxic blast and his face went pale as he staggered out the room with a hand over his mouth trying to stop anything escaping. As the boy left Jay thought he heard him say something stupid along the lines of "This won't be the last you bear of this. As Jay watched him leave with a smile he noticed that others were leaving but from the other side of the class, from the side closer to Mr Anderson.

Jay looked over to the teacher who was obviously pretending to be distracted by something on his screen but still wore a cheeky grin. The student took a deep whiff of the air, he was happy to take in his personal brand of month old rancid eggs gas, but he sensed a foreign fart smell growing in the mix of rotten veggies and fragrant compost assault his nose. Looking back at the teacher it didn't take Jay long to work out who the culprit was for the rival gas.

The classroom had been emptied of most of it's students filled with a significant amount of gas. Other than Jay and Anderson there were just two friends looking quite scared and ready to leave sitting pretty much an equal distance from the gassy competitors. Realising what it had come down to before the boys could leave both Jay and the teacher gave eachother a nod and a smirk and walked up to the two.

"You need some help bud?" Jay asked ungenuinly putting has hand on the shoulder of the student on the left.

"You having any trouble with the work?" Anderson leaning on the desk asked trying to keep his usual reserved demeanor to the student on the right.

Before doing anything Jay got a good look at Anderson's perky ass which had been hidden up until this point, he was happily surprised. Both of the students stammered mainly worried about Jay since he was the only obvious farter, they were probably hoping that Anderson would help them. Before Jay could get anything out he picked up on a very subtle hissing coming from the backside of the still concerned looking teacher. Jay of course wanting to contribute to the stink out quickly turned around and sat on the desk almost hitting the keyboard of the boy on the left and pointing his ass towards both.

"Get a load of this action!" Jay strained knowing it wouldn't be a small one.

PRRRRRRAAAARPPPPP

The eggy explosion rocketed out of Jay's ass into the faces of the unfortunate soon to be casualties, and right at the same time Anderson's stinky gas leak got to the boy's nostrils. The combined stench was obviously too much for the two buddies as they knocked heads as they passed out.

Finally getting drop any facade Jay and Anderson smiled at eachother in stinking solidarity as they both took a deep sniff of their joint creation. Of course the two passed out students were currently the main source of the smell, the room as a whole was now filled with a flatulent fog starting to make even Jay's eyes water.

"Impressive work Jay, it seems that it was obviously not coding I should've been pushing you towards."

"I don't know why you spend all your time with computer shit, when your stinking butt obviously is obviously far more interesting." The disguised compliment was a risky move Jay thought but Anderson seemed to respond well. He gave his ass a little smack and adjusted his glasses as he stepped towards his gassy student.

"Well I guess you've got to have a day job."

Jay watched smiling excitedly as the seemingly transformed teacher ran his hand through his hair walking past him.

"Let's leave these two here, I'm sure you don't mind taking the blame for them, I think I'll be giving you some private tutoring if you just follow me." Giving Jay a wink from behind his glasses and strolled out the room.

Happy at the direction the class had gone Jay took one last sniff of his gassy handiwork and clambered off the desk to follow him, leaving the unlucky last two victims to marinate in the stink.

Leaving the room Jay caught up to the man on the quick walk to his office only a little ways down the corridor, all the while making sure to stay a little behind him as to enjoy the view.

In comparison to the quite airy and spacious computer room, the office was tiny. There was barely enough room for the desk and chair, and with both men standing in there, there was barely any room to move. Jay also noted the lack of be ventilation with only one small window which seemed to be locked shut.

"You'll have to excuse the heat." He closed the door behind Jay who leaned against the wall. "I only got moved to the office this year and I haven't been able to find the spare key for the window, I hope it won't be a problem." He gave Jay a knowing look.

"Don't worry I think I can cope" And in spite of the uniform policy Jay began to undo his tie, which prompted his teacher to follow suit. "So Mr Anderson what will this tutoring be about, I hardly think my computing skills need any improving, and I can't seem to think of anything else we have in common." Jay made sure to finish the question in cocking up one of his legs.

FRRRRAPPP

The fart despite not being the biggest managed to fill the room in seconds making both men smile at what it's stink implied.

"Now Jay no reason to misbehave." The teacher sat on a spot on the desk and unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons as they had both began to sweat. "I merely wanted to give you proper punishment for your unprovoked biohazardous assault on your fellow students, it's highly unprofessional." The teacher concluded by leaning over on the desk displaying his butt again to the increasingly aroused student.

Frrrrrrrrrrsshhhhhh

What the flatulence lacked in volume it made up for in stench completely dominating the room with his rancid personal stench. Both men inhaled obviously neither really expecting how bad it stunk coughing in response to its bite.

After recovering Jay responded keeping up the erotic teasing act they had going by turning around and leaning against the wall and peeled down his now stuck on with sweat trousers just enough to let his boxer clad ass show with the gray colour accentuating his now sweaty crack.

"Well Mr Anderson I think I have quite a skill and I occasionally like to show it off to my classmates I don't see the problem with that?" He stuck out his ass further in the direction of the teacher and winced.

BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARPPPPP

He was impressed with himself, the gas shook the room and reintroduced his eggy gas to the room. The power of the fart seemed to shake the tiny room and make both men laugh at the sheer masculine stinky power it showed.

Again matching Jay, Anderson got up and began unzipping his trousers, the now erect student looked back at his teacher reveal his amazing smooth bouncy round ass cheeks. He made sure that Jay got a good look at them giving them a little shake.

"Now Jay I do see a problem with that, thinking your gas could even rival something like mine is worthy of punishment."

Psshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It sounded like a high pressure gas leak and it intensified the heat in the room exponentially, but by far the worst aspect was it wretched stench making Jay's eyes fully tear up and burn his nose.

Jay managed to recover from his coughing fit relatively quickly in spite of the rancid stench feeling like a cartoonist stinky brown fog in the room. His brain was going haywire at the horrible sensation but he decided to go for one last shot.

"Well then punish this..." He back closer up to Anderson until they were butt to butt. In a brave move Jay pulled down both their boxers until their bare sweaty asses were touching and let a rippling blast straight onto the man's ass.

BRRRRAPTTTTTTT

The rank stink vibrated against the cheeks of the two men making them both gasp. The room was becoming a deadly hot box and Anderson could tell it was his place to finish it.

The teacher after letting Jay's fart finish strolled around his student toying with him and leaned against the wall pushing his ass out until it was just touching Jay's erection. The two sweaty men could tell where it was going.

Rssssssssshhhhhhhh

The heat combined with the two men's combined evil stink, either that or the pleasure Jay got from the last gassy blast from his teacher but he was out, collapsing at the other man's feet.

[sunsiac]

hopeless - l.dh

word count: 1.2k

pairing: best friend!donghyuck x reader

genre: fluff 

song rec: hopeless by halsey

warnings: none

"Sorry, but I can't tonight."

"I promise that I'll call you back in five."

Those were only a couple among the multiple things he'd been saying to me the past few months. It was so tiring, knowing that he was slowly falling out of interest, but still trying anyway.

I also loved how he didn't even try to think of something else to tell me, it was just the same things over and over again. He and I had been dating for around half a year, and to put it plainly, he was clearly not interested in our relationship anymore.

As I mentioned, I've been trying to put in some effort to keep our relationship in a solid state, because I used to really like him. I did, so I didn't want our relationship to end, even though it's so obvious that it's what he wanted.

And a while ago, I just got tired of trying.

But I don't think he really cares what I want at this point anyway, to be honest. I feel like the only person that I can actually talk to without getting my thoughts in a twist is my best friend, Donghyuck.

He's like the slap to the face that tells me to get my shit together, and I'm very thankful for it. Because dealing with a boyfriend who basically ignores you would have the same effect on you that you think.

"Hey dipshit."

I'd asked him to meet up at a restaurant we frequented after a particularly nasty 'talk' with my 'boyfriend', and of course, he'd accepted almost immediately. He told me I probably needed a talk with someone who wasn't an asshole — his exact words, actually— and honestly he was right. I did need that.

As for the greeting, we've known each other for a long time. We're very comfortable with each other, speech-wise, physically, or otherwise. Besides, aren't all best friends like that? He’s really a great person.

I scoffed and put a hand on my chest. "Wow, I feel so loved."

He nodded and shrugged humbly. "I try."

"Oh, shut up you rat."

"Make me." He grinned.

"Excuse me?"

"Excused."

I rolled my eyes playfully, "No wonder you're still single."

"Speaking of single, what did that dickhead do now?"

I loved Donghyuck so much, he could seriously make my mood do a 180 in less than 5 minutes. His attitude is just like that, all sassy and sunshine-like, always a mood maker.

"What's different, honestly? I literally called him to break up with him and all he said was that he was busy." I told him, letting out a sigh.

"You want to break up with him?" He asked, arching a row as he leaned forward.

"I thought about it, and yeah. I do. He treats me like absolute shit, and he's even avoiding me so much that I can't even break up with him."

Donghyuck scoffed, but I swore I saw a hint of a smile.

"Good. That’s yet a dick move, so go and dump his ass."

•

I really did it. I actually broke up with him. Not to be cliché or anything, but I seriously feel like a weight was lifted off my chest.

But, in the end, at first, he wouldn't answer my calls. Even then, when I was trying to break up with him. Yet again, I was disappointed, but not surprised.

But I called and called because I wanted to get this over with. I honestly, truthfully, wanted this phone call to be the last time I spoke to him in a long time.

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey. Can I talk to you?"

A pause.

"Um, sorry. I'm doing something important right now, can I call you back?" He asked, not even trying to sound like he cared.

"No. It'll only take a few seconds, from the bottom of my heart, I swear," I told him, a petty smile growing on my lips.

"Alright, babe. If you say so." My smile grew, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Let's break up."

Another pause. "What?"

"I said—"

He interrupted me, snapping, "I know what you said." A few breaths, "Just, why?"

I brought the phone away from my ear, appalled as I let out a short laugh. "Why? Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Obviously, I am."

"I don't know if this is a normal thing for you or something, but I don't really like being treated like shit," I told him, going on to explaining why I felt we should break up.

He seemed to have calmed down slightly, stuttering slightly as he said,"Y/N, I don't— I didn't realise—"

I sighed, "I don't think that really matters now,"

"I'm sorry."

•

"Hey dipshit."

"Hey Donghyuck." I grinned at my best friend, which made him return an equally bright smile.

"You did it?" He asked. I nodded.

He cheered and broke out into applause. "Thank god!"

I looked at him in admiration. It's hard to believe that he's older than me sometimes when he acts like this.

"Why are you so happy?" I asked, my smile growing, "You're acting like you just won the lottery."

I laughed as he did, though I didn't really know what we were laughing about.

"I basically did, Y/N." He said through small giggles, making me raise a brow.

His smile melted away as he sighed, going on to ruffle his own hair and tell me, "I just wanna see my best friend happy, you know?"

"You should've taken the opportunity to confess your undying love for me, Donghyuck." I joked, laughing.

I swore I saw a flicker of something on his expression, but I passed it off as nothing for the moment. Or, at least until I realised Donghyuck wasn't laughing with me the same way he had been

He eventually broke the awkward air, saying casually, "I wouldn't call it undying love, but I think it's almost there."

I didn't say anything, my lips parting as I stared at him. He gave me a small grin, unfazed.

"Donghyuck?" My voice came out quietly, but I knew he still heard me. Because he crossed his arms and smiled wider as if he were confident. Though I knew him too well to think that he'd be confident in this moment.

"Damn," I mumbled to myself, the smile growing back on my lips. "That was smooth."

He laughed, looking slightly relieved. Which I was happy about, considering it was what I was going for. And so I continued to laugh with him until we were both quiet again

Then I asked, "But, really, are you being serious?"

"I am." He didn't say much else, and I could tell he was fumbling for words as he said, "The undying love thing—"

I smiled, having already made up my mind as I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. As my face was buried in the gap below his shoulder blade, his arms went around my waist, a small laugh escaping him.

"Y/N,"

I hugged him tighter, "What do you want, you dipshit?"

I felt him smile against the top of my head. "Nothing.”

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Buster

Rio: *Even if he wouldn't laugh her out of here for it, (which he would), the commiseration of 'shit timing' wouldn't pass her lips. 'Cos both old enough to know better, even if she was a few months shy of his new number. Old enough to know that it was always going to be like this. Yeah, the first was usually the worst, and it would become normal as the years passed, but she was always not going to be here from now. Could get rid of a person but not their absence, standard. That was life. Not kidding anyone with that nonchalant approach though, couldn't even lean against the brick 'cos of the fucking wings. What a joke. And it wasn't JUST 'life'. It was her lack of. And all the reasons why. And how much they didn't fucking matter now. Nothing did. If Rio could make herself believe that, proper, then maybe she could feel alright about the fucked up shit she was feeling and the fucked up things she'd been doing, namely for and with Buster McKenna. Christ. As it stood though, she didn't. But feeling not alright, feeling wrong, fit the tone of tonight so fuck it, yeah? Yeah. Never mind how good he looked, and how she shouldn't even notice that but it was all she could, an unbelievably welcome distraction from the shit in her head, torturous as it was to only be looking and not touching. Whatever. They both knew they would. 'Til one of 'em came to their senses and realized what the fuck they were doing. That would be fun. But that weren't tonight. Certainly not there herself and highly doubting he was, if this getaway was anything to go by. And that was just the tip of the friggin' shitshow. So yeah, she'd put money on it. Throw money at it, if he wanted, she knew some places with low enough lighting and standards that'd fit the bill. Even get in in their costumes, fit right in, frankly...* Took your time, boy. Buster: *He'd been going through the motions, recycling behavior from nights past where he could. Taking a shot for this or getting dragged onto the dance floor they'd made for that, feeling no burn on the swallow how he should've (not even a year closer to properly walking in his dad's shoes yet like, never mind the old alkie's down his grandad's boozer) nor any awareness of his body paint being slightly sweat streaked now, as if to call out the obvious flaws deep in his chest, when really that was just more of the same bullshit and nobody here needed a sign anyfuckingway. Then again, none of them could see Buster watching Rio, waiting for the slightest indication that she was about to give into him and maintain eye contact that lasted longer than a second. What a fucking joke. He saw red in every moment she got close to somebody else, or just stayed away from where he and his friends were, playing the tease again, like he was that cunt of a kid and she could in any way go back to who she was before either. Christ's sake. But of course there wasn't a single guest at this party about to address what was missing or they couldn't have. Only the first elephant in the room, that. So there. All he could do was what was expected of him and loudly take everything that was offered, declaring it birthday's boy prerogative or some shit. Fuck it. Bonus points if in cracking open another bottle of Champagne it let him return to being numb in a gulp. After all, he'd been trained not to show any of his rage when it came to fighting for access to Jay, what was some more, yeah? No need to be a pussy. Nance was in NYC as good as alone and by all accounts she weren't crying into her cocktail. Handle it. Come on, how long had it taken him to break into a run, to show all his cards in one text? To get weak. And, honestly, how long had he been waiting for that too, not even mad it was coming, 'cause there was no blaming him for how Rio looked. Or how good it felt when they touched. The power was hers, to bring him to the point furthest from anesthetized, let her own it all. Why should he care if it was wrong, what the fuck did another mistake added to the list, matter? It was Halloween not New Years. Tonight he wasn't looking to try his best at anything new unless it made her as needy as he was, and twice as bad at least.* Could've taken longer. *Such a lie, but might as well start as they mean to go on, like. There was too much painful truth in his head as it was and this was meant to be the escape he practically needed to beg for, so whatever.* Rio: *She shrugs. The 'but you didn't' barely needing to pass through her head, nevermind be said out loud. They both knew. But they both knew the less they spoke about it the better. 'Cos let's face it, if they addressed this, then there was a whole parade of the pink fuckers, (making every day a circus!), that they'd have to and all- and fuck that. Yeah, it was messed up but at least this one felt good in the moment. All that other shit was just pain, all day, all night, pure and simple, black and white. And there was no denying the fun they were having playing in the grey. Front as he was now, and she did too. But not now. Make of it what you will, boy. SO thirsty for you or just sick and tired of not getting what she wants, anything that she needs, ever. It didn't matter what he thought, really. Just that he was here. And he was. In all his glory. Literally. Catching a bead of sweat as it dripped just below his navel, tracing the runnel it had made in his golden sheen, touch light over every muscle she encountered, bringing said finger up to her mouth to taste.* Sweet. *It was the opposite, of course, salty, but still, good. Too fucking good. As much as it was meant for him, to get him on the level, a taster of what was to come; It had made her want more too. To taste every part of him, and let him taste her until they smashed into one...being, devouring each other with mutual ferocity and want and reckless abandon. Reckless was the right word. This was literally his family home and some of hers were still inside. Not to mention plenty of others who knew they were cousins. How they didn't ALSO know how badly they wanted to fuck each other senseless all the time was another matter entirely. It felt ridiculously obvious. On her part, but also his, (not sorry about it, McKenna). As if the constant eye-fucking wasn't a dead giveaway, get a clue, people. Apparently, they were so far gone, (all the way to Hell?), that they were beyond detection. Suited her in this moment. And many more, if they were being real. Still, some space needed to be made between them and the shit party. For their sake, if no one else's. Taking his hand, beginning to walk, nowhere in mind yet just the goal of being alone.* Come on. Buster: *There was no response needed to his piss poor retort, everything that needed to be said was as soon as their eyes met properly. Both lingered over it, brazen, 'cause they didn't have to steal timed glances out here in the pooled half-light, the most alone they'd been allowed to be so far tonight. Still, every thump of his heart in his ears was another tease, mocking the distance that didn't let him hear hers and he was about to do something - frankly ANYTHING - to stop the anger from taking over what senses he'd managed to keep a hold on somehow when Rio reacted first. FUCK. Whatever move he'd reckoned on her making, this wasn't it. Jesus. Buster knew that if any other girl had tried going in for this they'd have only made a twat of themselves and he'd be bent double laughing, but the sound that escaped him then wasn't. And worse, he didn't care. Let her have it. He was gonna have her first proper chance he got. 'Course the temptation (nothing like the right word for how deep the desire went to go with this specific urge immediately, but whatever) was there to pull her into what shadows he could find against the brick and fuck her right there, in an almost parallel to the first time they'd managed to go through with it, the same desperation fueling him as that fucked up day they were all refusing to think about. He was ready to pull her into him even as the muted bass put itself in competition with the girl's rapid heart, reminding Buster that he basically still had his back to the party he'd tried to turn it away from. Fuck's sake. He forced out a shaky breath, letting her take the lead the way she'd typed out she would, all the while saying a little prayer that his legs hadn't given way before carrying him to whatever destination they were gonna end up at. Had he ever wanted anyone this bad? Christ, the answer couldn't be a louder no if he shouted it out, like. Did that mean he had to lose his shit over a fingertip, though? Apparently fucking so. There was no shaking his head to clear it of these thoughts, there were too many to do anything but welcome. This here was the party for exactly that.* Where do you want me? Rio: *Rio grinned, and it actually managed to reach her eyes, headlights of cars passing doing a disservice in comparison, only twinkle found there in the green being the metaphorical kind. She almost laughed, too. Christ. That ached almost as much as it did between her legs for him. Had only been 18 days since. Wasn't that long to go without feeling, let alone expressing, any kind of joy; Calm down, like. The nasty voice in her head that had (so helpfully) morphed into Edie's, mocked that it had been a lot longer than that, hadn't it? Fuck off. Focus, don't lose this feeling. They didn't have to go far. Can't even last that long? Whore. Shut up, shut up! God, she was, would be, (happily), if it meant she could have him now. Right now. Get lost in him and how he felt and how he could make her feel, get so far out of her head it was better than any high she'd ever had- fuck. She needed that. No need to psychoanalyze it now or the morning after, like. Who cares if it was just because or because X, Y and Z? It still would be. Still was. She couldn't deny it anymore, didn't want to, especially not tonight, not now. Barely conscious of their surroundings but knowing they were about out of his nice little neighbourhood. Only seeing the world in potential places he could take her. Cutting across the dead road, so quiet and still, no traffic at this hour, opening the park gate, holding it open for him in a 'here will do' way. Her breathing was as erratic as she was behaving, frenzied, but she didn't care and he better fucking not, either, like.* Please? Buster: *Any stupid cunt looking to pull a last trick tonight would still be able to see them, but Buster couldn't have stopped himself, eager to go further in the only way that mattered, if the Garda had been dragged along into the bushes along with the two of them. Not now that he was finally able to do more than look and he knew she was craving it same as he was. 'Course with each step he'd taken from home that lead up to this one he'd convinced himself he was gonna do her exactly as she had him at first, aiming to make her beg harder, voice cracking on the rest of her words, forced out with pure need. He had form with all the other girls after all. And Rio'd be no different, like he always said, she wasn't special.* Say it again. *He'd never sounded that desperate himself though, had he? Fucking hell. Focus, come on. He stayed committed the idea of this game until his fingers had actually gone lower than hers, roughly pulling the lower half of the costume aside. Hours before he'd wanted nothing more than to touch, taste and tease, however hurried he'd have had to be, but once he was inside her, the thought of quickly pulling his hand out to put to his mouth with a smirk lost any previous appeal. No games, yeah? He'd agreed to it then, and her every reaction reinforced what a fucking great promise that'd been to make.* Jesus. *He fingerfucked her not so she'd cum hard at least once before he did (a bonus to remember in the morning that he'd been powerless at the party, yeah, but wasn't any more, not the real goal if it had ever been.) 'cause she'd never looked as fucking good as she did right now. And after how the night had been going he'd not reckoned on feeling so fucking good himself by the end. It could be that simple if he wanted, and Christ, he wanted nothing else. Nothing more either.* Rio: *As tempting as it proved to deny him in the everyday scenarios, always impossible to resist the urge to disagree with McKenna, just for the sake of half the time; now was so far beyond the time. Pleas, begging him to touch her, to fuck her here and now, hoping people heard and saw, telling him how bad she wanted it, him. All tumbling out as if it was natural; What else would she be saying, asking, when they both knew this was ALL she ever wanted? She had no problem relinquishing that naysayer role, that game they played where they didn't want each other or this, when it came down to it. Rio found it easy, too easy if she were to think about it (which she didn't, often), easier with him than anyone else, somehow. Whatever, he could call her a whore before, during and after if it made him feel better about it. Not like she had any more satisfying answer for him as to why him, and why it kept happening. She knew it wasn't that, herself, but it'd be better if it was, so he could believe it all he liked (if only she could). Have that one for free, boy, on the house, on me. The answer seemed so obvious when he was finally inside her, dragging her out of her head, all thoughts turning into a haze of pure pleasure, only concern keeping this feeling going for as long as possible. Nothing but the feeling of it, of him, and the only thing she needed to do, her only concern, was making sure he felt as good in return.* Fuck, Buster! I need you. *About as much to tug down as she had, a nice change to unbuttoning in the dark. Keeping it simple, that's what they were doing, primal, nothing more but nothing less than fucking incredible. Sliding into position, into each other, hip bone crashing into hip bone, in one move, one moment. The hiss of sharp intakes of breath at the same time, moans matching moans and groans and grunts and praises and curses being exclaimed on the same thrust.* Don't stop. Don't. Stop. God- you're good, you're SO fucking good- *Holding onto him like her life depended on it, arms wrapped tight around his neck, pulling his head down so it was level with hers, so he could see, look straight into her eyes and see what he was doing to her. Fuck, she wanted to kiss him. Had they? Her head was swimming. Did they? Surely not, that was too much, too personal. Would make it too real. But how hadn't they, when they'd done all this, how was that the step too far? Christ, she wanted it so bad now she was watching his lips, even more than she had wanted his dick deep inside her. Wet like he'd just licked them on purpose, pink tongue poking out so fucking cute with concentration, they were full but she wanted to kiss them 'til they were swollen with her desire, bite them and pull them into her own mouth- Jesus fucking Christ...* Fuck it... *She murmured, tilting her head up to his, pulling him somehow closer still, 'til there was contact where she needed it most, moaning into his mouth, finding rhythm here to match the one below.* Buster: *It should have shocked some sense into him when their mouths collided too, that he was kissing her back as forcefully for one thing, like it was a normal thing to do never mind want from Rio Cavante. In reality, (wherein nights were spent with girls that weren't, but were instead fake from bottle blonde roots to bottle bought tan, of course) if they tried to initiate more than a playful lip bite he'd break it off with the promise of his mouth somewhere better. And when he followed through, Buster told himself he loved it, same as they did. Such bullshit. Never proved harder than now, living in a hardcore fantasy, like. But he should've learned his lesson from Chlo and yet here he was, fucking again without a condom or any intention of pulling out. Without a single thought of stopping, at any point, only the opposite. And he didn't care. God, he'd keep this going all night if he could, moan after muffled moan shamelessly letting her know it. Reminding him every second of this was actually happening, unreal as it seemed. And felt. 'Course, there was no way he could stay in their rhythm forever, but they finished together, he wouldn't let himself forget once he'd sobered up. Whatever he was, she was just as bad. Had to take what he could get the morning after, didn't he? Fuck. Don't start thinking about that already. Soft cunt. To pull the focus he concentrated on attempting to find, or at least think, of a way to clean himself off when he didn't even have a pair of socks on him. Fuck's sake. There was no time to get properly moody though, in looking around their immediate surroundings (for the first time, obviously) he had to fucking laugh. Did. Every bit of her skin that had pressed against his was streaked in gold to match his, glittering in the moonlight.* Rio: *About to ask what he was laughing at, with a bemused chuckle, when she looked down and saw the damage (or the joke) herself. All over her, like. At least she COULD see the funny side too, distance between the party and them achieved, glad she hadn't dragged him away for a mid-party quickie like she had wanted to many times over the course of the tense evening. That would NOT have been good, or a fucking laugh.* Fucking hell, McKenna! *Rubbing at the paint, to no avail, quickly giving up on that idea with a shrug.* No more paint, alright? Or, at least warn a bitch next time and I'll coordinate, yeah? Such an amateur. *She winks, fluffing her hair back up and straightening her (lack of) clothes as she walks away.* Buster: *He was tempted to fall back into familiar territory now that she didn't have her legs wrapped around him, blaming her, all bravado and 'well if you could only stay away, like' blah blah blah etc but the bullshit couldn't get past the laughter and he didn't want it to really. Not tonight. It was reaffirmed to him how much he didn't or want any of this to end yet, though it technically already had. Should've. He'd got what he wanted, hadn't he? The expectations for his birthday party had been more than exceeded, no denying it, so what? Why the fuck couldn't he play along and let her walk away? Christ, Rio was right about how amateur he was playing this now and in itself he should've fucking hated that, like. Been angry enough to turn away himself. Go home, 'cause he wasn't the one wearing the sin openly, it was her who had it pinned to her like a gold medal awarded for being some kind of sick fuck. Or whatever. But none of that happened. Buster did the opposite (becoming a habit of its own, this) keeping in step with her as she moved away from the scene of the crime as if distance made any difference to what would have to be owned. Buster shook his head, trying not to laugh again, ('cause yeah, everything was less funny when he was his own target, so try and sue him.)* Where do you think you're going? Rio: *Rio turned back to face Buster, carrying on walking, despite the darkness and despite the heels (just to show how much of a pro SHE was; it was any small victory you could grab when you were fucking up your life on such a monumental scale, yeah?), smirking, feigned innocence in the 'who me?' hand to chest mime. Standard. Had to go back to acting immediately, didn't they? Or face the consequences, and neither of them was ready to deal with salvaging from that level of fucked up wreckage, she more than reckoned.* I said I was taking you somewhere good, baby. You think that was it? *Shaking her head.* I'm just getting started, boy. *Finally turning back so she could direct them with purpose but throwing him back a coy look for good measure, making sure he was still up for it, hoping the spell didn't have to be broken yet.* It is your Birthday, after-all. Let me treat you. Keep up, though, yeah?