#woozy Time is hysterical actually

[skyward-floored]

I still hold that this part from this fic is one of the funniest things I’ve ever written

[alchemistc]

He's been good. He's been - pretending to be good well enough that no one has been suspicious.

It's just -

That was it. That was The One.

And sure. He can get back out into the world. He can fall in love again. There is a beautiful man somewhere out in the world who will make him laugh, make him cry.

He's just not sure he wants to put the effort in anymore.

For a hot second he'd really thought -

Not that it matters, anymore.

He's pretty sure his leg is pinned. The cockpit is more smoke than air, at this point. He can feel his toes, but honestly that might be more a curse than a blessing.

He's been staring at the phone in his hand for the last five minutes. Ever since he realized he didn't have the leverage to try to move the bracket keeping him from slipping free of the broken, crunched in door frame.

It's selfish. It's the most selfish fucking thing he's considered since he decided to break his own heart instead of letting someone else.

But logistically he's got about seven minutes until there's too much smoke and not enough air in here, and that's only IF the fire doesn't catch somewhere else.

He's got enough bars. And there are two numbers he could call. Two ways this could go.

The phone rings through four times, and on the fifth, someone answers.

"This is a bad time, Tommy," Eddie says, and Tommy feels a little hysterical. The laughter comes in fits, only slows when he gets a nice good whiff of smoke straight up his nose.

"Sure is."

The tone shifts. "Are you okay?"

"It was a bad idea anyway."

He feels woozy. Glances down at his leg and realizes that stain he'd thought was shadow is... definitely blood.

"Listen. I'm - when Evan gets the call, don't let him go alone. It's my fault for not updating my ICE."

The silence on the other line is deafening. "Tommy, where are you? Don't - don't make any decisions you can't come back from." It's a panned line he'd heard at the VA the half dozen times he'd gone.

"Yeah I didn't really make this decision myself. I'm just - I'm losing a lot of blood, here, and there's not a lot of ways for the smoke to get out of this cabin, and -."

High alert has a very specific sound and feel to it.

Eddie's cursing, something is shuffling, he's snapping his fingers in the distance. God, they're probably at work. "Where are you?"

Tommy rattles off his last known coordinates. "I already told dispatch, Eddie. I'm just. They're not gonna make it in time, and I need you to promise me you won't let him be alone when -."

It'd been a trip he would have been riding shotgun for, if Tommy hadn't made sure he wasn't. He's grateful for that, at least.

He's really not expecting much, he thinks. Eddie doesn't have to go far out of his way to support Buck. It'll hurt him, true. But Tommy's gotten pretty used to being the cause of that. And. He'll be dead, anyway, so he won't have to carry that guilt for long.

And then Eddie betrays whatever vestige of friendship they had left, because it's not Eddie's voice that responds.

"Hey asshole. Do you have enough leverage to break the window?"

He's got a good voice. A little gruff, a little heavy.

Tommy doesn't want this.

"No."

"Actually no, or are you just accepting your fate again without even talking about alternatives."

It's not how he thought he'd go. Dramatic final hour phone call, the end of their relationship as a metaphor for the bleakness of his situation. "I'm sorry, Buck."

He's having trouble focusing his eyes. There's a beat behind his ears that keeps slowing down. He thinks he might be hearing sirens but -

"Evan," Tommy says for the first time in six months. "I'm so sorry, Evan."

He says - something. The tone of it is there, even if he can't quite make out the words.

Tommy blinks. Coughs.

There's a phone in his hands.

Why is there a phone in his hands, he's supposed to be flying a -

He'd crashed it, actually.

Well shit.

Damn.

Eddie's gonna be so pissed if he has to find out second hand that Buck's going to get a really fucking shitty call in a few hours.

He should call.

---

When he blinks open his eyes, he finds his fingers first, nearly has a panic attack when they don't move they way he wants them to, except - oh.

There are fingers interlocked with his.

Tommy follows the line of the arm, even though he knows.

"Sorry," Evan says, and there are tears unshed at the corners of his eyes but he looks mad as hell. "You only get one dramatic exit out of my life in a calendar year."

[hannyoontify]

seventeen's reaction to you stopping to tie your shoelace

warnings | js a few curse words lol, not proofread

notes | inspired by @m00mis's post :D thank you to anon for finding the original post!

seungcheol 

cheol would instantly realize you were no longer walking by his side and stop to wait for you. stands next to you while he waits, and if you guys were in a crowded area, he would act kind of like a bodyguard and make sure no one runs into you or trips over your hunched over form. once you’re done, he’ll help you stand back up and press quick kiss js bc he wants to :D

jeonghan 

when you kneel down on one knee to tie your shoelace, he’ll wait a little bit before pushing you so that you would lose your balance and fall over. ‘yoon jeonghan! you’re a fucking asshole!’ as soon as he pushes you over, he’ll run away so he can escape your wrath but he’ll return right away once you start complaining. ‘’m sorry angel’ presses a kiss on your knuckle as an apology. throughout the rest of your walk, he’ll probably randomly giggle when he remembers how you fell over

joshua 

when you crouch down to tie your shoelace, he’ll tap a rhythm on your head while he’s waiting. ‘guess what song this is’ ‘shua you’re hitting straight quarter notes how am i supposed to know what song that is’ ‘wrong answer, it was sunday morning by maroon 5’ oh and LMAO he might ask you to check his own laces and re-tie them if needed. oh and next time your shoelace comes untied, he’s doing the tying bc he thinks you’re too slow (he doesn’t actually think that, he js wants to do it for you)

junhui

‘[Name], your shoelace is untied’ before you can react, this sweet sweet boy is tying your shoelace for you. while you’re waiting, you play with his hair and make cat ears with them since you’re bored. ‘wen junhui, you’ve become a cat’ and you can hear a small meow from where he’s kneeling (cute) once he’s done, he’ll jump back up and look at you with a proud smile. he’ll point at your feet ‘i turned them into bunny ears, aren’t they cute?’ you thought it was very cute.

hoshi

when hoshi sees you get down on one knee in the middle of the amusement park, he gasps dramatically and brings a hand over his mouth. ‘OH MY GOD’ he’ll literally start screaming hysterically and running around and everyone and their mother is looking at hoshi because he’s going crazy while his partner is calmly tying their shoelace like it’s nothing. ‘i didn’t expect you to do it here [Name]- [Name]? why are you standing up again?’ when he finally looks back at you, you’re already done tying your shoelace. you look at him with a confused expression, and he can feel the world around him crumble away as he falls to his knees in despair. ‘kwon soonyoung did you think i was proposing to you?!’ 

wonwoo

when you stop to tie your shoelace, you noticed that wonwoo always crouches down with you and just watches you tie your laces. so one time, you asked him why he always crouched down with you and he said that it was bc he didn’t want to miss a single word of what you were saying. his answer was unexpectedly sweet so now, whenever you’re done tying your shoelaces, you always press a kiss to your sweet boyfriend’s lips before standing back up

woozi

‘oh wait love, your shoelace is untied’ you both bend down at the same time, causing your heads to bump into each other and you giggle. you let woozi tie it for you, but you stay bent down, just to keep him company. once he’s done, he’ll get up first, help you up, and then compliment your shoes

minghao

if you crouch down on the floor to tie your shoelace, minghao is gonna stop you and pull you to a bench or something else that was elevated bc he does NOT want you kneeling on the dirty floor. he’ll keep a hand on your back/shoulder to keep you stable and once you’re done, he’ll grab your hand almost immediately. ‘done? good bc i want ice cream’

mingyu 

mingyu’s telling you some story about a joke the boys pulled on him and he becomes so immersed in his storytelling that he doesn’t notice you’re almost 20 paces behind him, tying your shoelace. ‘so that was pretty funny. wasn’t it, [Name]? [Name]? WHERE’D YOU GO’ he’ll whip around in a circle, looking for you frantically before you finally manage to catch up to him. ‘does this mean you missed half of my story’

dokyeom

when dokyeom notices that your shoelace is untied, he’ll get down, prop up one knee, and pat his leg, telling you to rest your foot on his thigh. you do so, and while he ties your shoelace, you use his shoulder to balance yourself. once he’s done, you put down your foot and kiss his cheek. ‘thanks min’ ‘anything for my princess’

seungkwan

mother seungkwan mode: activated ‘make sure you double knot… do you know how to double knot?’ ‘kwan, i’m the one who taught you how to double knot’ ‘right’ he’ll pretend to be done with you and be impatient, but he’ll immediately help you up once you’re done and brush off your knees. he was probably also the one who noticed your untied shoelace first and pointed it out to you

vernon

‘babe wait, my shoelace is untied’ before you can react, vernon hands you his drink so he can tie your shoelace for you. why do i feel like he can do the super fast thing where it takes literally one second to tie your laces anyway, once he’s done, he’ll pat your leg(?) like a dad before standing back up and taking his drink back. ‘it should be all good now. sorry for not noticing earlier’

dino

chan would do rock paper scissors with you to decide who re-ties them (it didn’t matter whose shoes, you guys always did it to decide). it wasn’t that he didn’t want to or you didn’t want to, you guys js thought that it would make it more fun :)) if he was the one who won, he’ll probably make groaning noises as he makes his way down, complaining about how old he’s getting and how his joints aren’t like they used to be anymore. ‘chan, you’re not even a quarter of 100 yet, stop being dramatic’ that usually gets him to be quiet (for now..) and once he’s done, he’ll get back up, kiss you, and then continue walking down the street with you

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[dairy-farmer]

Haven't preached the gospel of Civilian Tim in a while >.> my boy would be so disappointed in me. I forgot about my boy! <:O

So consider!

Smol Tim! Knows he has to be SUUUPER careful. Mrs. Mac or his parents COULD find his Batman Notes and collection of blurry Baby's First Photographs, after all. So he keeps it vague. Never any names. Cryptic references. The works. Nothing that someone who doesn't know what HE knows, would understand.

But! He's also slightly less athletic then Cannon Tim. Or perhaps, Mrs. Mac is slightly less oblivious. She suspects Somethings Up(tm). Gets that distinct wiff of "child doing something they know they shouldn't behind my back". So waits in her car one night instead of actually going home like she usually does.

Oh dear lord.

Is he SNEAKING OUT!?

TIMMY!!!

Unfortunately, she picks the worst time to startle him. He's half way down the wall, having avoided the already Alarm Primed front door, from the SECOND FLOOR. The small child falls. Eats it, crushing a decorative bush.

This does NOT calm Mrs. Mac down.

He gets a concussion and one of two DOZEN hysterical calls to his parents from Mrs. Mac at the hospital. They think he's dying. Drop everything and rush back.

Are FURIOUS but relieved he's mostly okay.

His Dad, determined to figure out what the FUCK he thought he was doing, finds his Batman stuff. Tim sits, woozy, and wonders if he's watching his parent's Villian origin story as they rage and curse Batman out. His mom wants to shoot him.

It's decided (for him, no he does NOT get a say) that he is NOT staying in Gotham. Where God forsaken furries stalk the night, tempting innocent people's sons into running around the crumbling rooftops and too their early graves. Absolutely not. Tim is going to boarding school.

Tim doesn't WANT to go to boarding school.

But he doesn't get a say.

However... his parents? Do seem really excited? And spend lots of time with him looking over the options. Telling him stories about trips they took to countries near by. It's... it's actually kinda exciting. Nice, even.

And boarding school isn't even that bad.

No one makes fun of him for being quite or "new money". He makes friends. His parents VISIT since the airport isn't too far and they can plan lay-overs through it. He slowly forgets about the Heros of Gotham.

There are local Heros. They kinda suck. He keeps trying to send them notes on how to improve but somehow? They interpret it as a threat? God, they are dumb.

The trip that should have killed his parents? Never happens. Because there was an important event at the School and then CERTAIN local idiots failed to stop their telekinetic Villian from destroying all the planes. By the time his parents managed to reschedule? The local police in Haiti were desperately calling to warn them to Stay Put.

He graduates. Heads... well, he guesses "Home"? Back to Gotham. After a decade away. It's still just as Gothic, shitty, and creepy as always. His parents are out on their new dig, so? Place to himself~ Sweet.

Even if his old room is basicly untouched. Kiddy sheets and all. He'll need new everything. Which? As he pokes around? Leads him to finding his own HIGHLY Creepy? Cryptic, Possibly-Haunted, Horror Movie Notes(tm).

Baby Tim... WTF.

He remembers these. Remembers understanding them...

Does... NOT understand them now.

Huh.

He can? Sort of decipher them. Based off what he knows about himself at that age? It's "something, something, circus, something, Wayne's." And this other one just references Bats, which... kinda obvious. This is all clearly about BATman.

The question is? Does he CARE?

.....maybe a little bit.

Curse his insatiable curiosity. He collects Baby Him's creepy notes. The horror movie photographs. Starts making a list of furniture he'll need, and... Ding~ Dong~! Door? Who in gods name would be at the DOOR? Houses around here are massively spaced out.

He goes to check.

Standing there, in their work out clothes, is the unfairly gorgeous Dickie Wayne and sharply handsome young blood son, Damian Wayne. Life long neighbors. Haven't seen one of them since childhood, the other at ALL. Why are they at his house?

Hi?

Dickie is like getting hit by a semi-truck of Friendly. Tim feels an almost feline urge to hiss and bite the man to make him back off. The blood son just watchs. Sharp gaze an unfairly beautiful green, as he just? Seems to observe and consider. So, clearly no help there.

Dickie seems to think Tim is moving in? Is new? Wow. Way to be observant. Dude, the Drake's have lived next to your family since BEFORE TIM WAS BORN. We're just abroad a lot. We travel. Tim's just graduated. Is going to start his work in Drake Industries.

He gets a blank look from Dickie.

Damian at least know exactly what he's talking about. Was simply unaware that they were neighbors. Apologizes for Dickie's... He means well.

Tim has to laugh.

What a brutal kid. He likes him. They part ways. Tim doesn't notice the lingering looks or flushing cheeks, his fluffy and unguarded appearance has gotten him. Soft in a way nothing in Gotham or their lives ever is.

Tim gets to work. Modernizing the house and updating the furniture. Lots to buy and do, after all. Its exhausting. Thank god for the pool. And since it in the back, away from the road, he doesn't have to worry about all those absurd prudish drama queens he's met at the local market, getting food.

He can relax in a barely-there, string, bikini bottom. Topless. Soak in what little sun there manages to be.

Utterly entrance various Poor Bats, who are just trying to get their steps in. With so, so much soft and unmarked skin. Pretty little mosquito bite tits, the gentle curves and dips of his lounging body. Long legs, relaxed and sprawled teasingly open. Enough to torment but not enough to see.

They could never be that relaxed. Too many enemies. Too deeply ingrained to stay on gaurd. But there Tim lays, soaking up the sunshine with a drink and podcast. Utterly boneless.

A glimpse into another world. What they fight to protect. So different it... it almost become a fetish.

And it quickly does. Mentally playing house. Pretending civilian. They would go on dates and bring him flowers, they think, spying on him. Have dinners for two, cuddle on the couch, they imagine, as they break bones in the frigid rain. On and on. Them and their pretty civilian boyfriend.

The boy next door. Hallmark romances. Romantic novels. Fated encounters. Each of them framing it differently in their head. No less obsessive. Getting more by the day.

And Tim? Well, for him, things are feeling... Off(tm). His neighbors are? Weirdly friendly. He'd say cultishly friendly, but he doesn't even think they're religious. Yet his gut is SCREAMING "somethings not right here".

He can't figure out his creepy kid-self's notes. And it's starting to seem IMPORTANT. Because he HEARD that Brucie Wayne? Was a himbo. An idiot. But no one in that family reads as genuinely dumb to Tim. So why are they pretending? What are they HIDING? And??

Does it have something to do with how he keeps seeing the fuckin BATS around his house? His office? He's pretty sure they broke in. Found at least on bug. There might be cameras. He got kidnapped and like? Five! Of them showed up. FIVE.

Crowded super close to untie him, all lingering touches and predators grins.

Is he being hunted by vampires? Demons?

Bat people?!

How many times did they watch him masturbate before he realized there could be cameras!? And is he REALLY sure the shower is safe to get off in, now? It better be. He refuses to stop, just because he's being hunted by cryptids!

And off course~♡ Ivy, our Beloved. (We salute you o7) Oh dear and precious Bringer of Convenient Plot Devices. Escapes! Oh nooooo! And she was doing so well.

She hits? You guessed it! Drake Pharmaceuticals. The main branch of Drake Industries. Because a CERTAIN member of the Board has been lying about where he's been putting run-off. Like that's not a known death-sentence in Gotham. Are you KIDDING US, Geoffrey!?

Tim, bravely, tries to talk her down. Was already trying to fix other damage. WILL fix that. He didn't know. Please, Dr. Isely!

She thinks he's young and twink-y. Gives him a chance. Feeds Geoffrey to a plant. Chaos and Bats ensue.

But on no! Ivy definitely pulled the "remember. I can DESTROY YOU" card with her Chance(tm) and hit Tim with a Pollen dose. It's already been too long. Anti-agent will help, but? Ultimately not enough. Tim needs treatment.

......don't WORRY, Civilian! The Bats say with far more enthusiasm then the rightfully should, coming dangerously close to perky chirping. They are Here To Help~!

Odd, how Tim does NOT feel terribly safe, being stared down by the hungry eyes of Bat Cryptids. But also his skin feels like it's on slow fire and his insides hurt, soooo.... Make It STOP.

He's scooped up and dragged to the nap room he had set up connecting to his office. The don't stop CROWDING. Hands reaching out, stroking and touching. Gazes heavy enough to feel lewder the their hands, as they blatantly plot what they're going to do to him.

Batman, who by all accounts, is supposed to be the one to keep his various hellions in check, leading the charge. Seeming almost giddy as he carries Tim off. Gently dumps him on his napping bed.

He's surrounded.

They work together to get rid of "pollen contaminated clothing". Which is apparently everything. Hands are everywhere, making him whimper as they stroke oversensitive skin. Nightwing holding his head and neck still, plundering his mouth until he can't breathe.

Gloved hands are teasing his tits. Stroking his stomach. Holding his hands tight, to wrap it around something hard and hot. Thrusting against his palms. Legs being held open by strong hangs. Hearing Batman shift but being unable to move.

Embarrassing noises ripped out of him, back bowing, as squirming wet heat starts eating him out. Sucking, swirling, fucking in and out. None of the boys at school could EVER have come close. Tim finds himself twitching and coming apart embarrassingly fast.

Only it doesn't end.

He's never gone past one before.

The Pollens going to make sure EVERYONE gets a turn. Bruce barely holding back, while he stretchs him. The instant he decides it's enough, he's surging up, lining up and fucking himself in. Tim is utterly destroyed. Not a single Bat missing their golden chance to fuck Tim. Several times, at LEAST.

And of course? Once you have a taste of what you desire? Obsessions get so, SO much worse. A few more Pollen incidents that spring and summer? Well obviously, he's their Boyfriend now. Even if he doesn't know it.

It's all very horror movie, but the moster wants to bone you incoherent. Will Tim ever figure out the secret of the Waynes? Will he eventually be seduced by the constant, unexpected, but frankly mind-blowing dickings? Can orgasms win the day?

Who knows! Not me!

I just want them to obsess over Civilian Tim, fetishize his sexy Normal Life and hot bod, and (importantly) LOVINGLY gang bang the Timmy. He deserves to be the center of attention, you know? Get so, SO many orgasms. Be treated like a treasured princess of fuckies. Then cuddled for taking it so well, when they pounded him drooling and nearly to tears.

Give the Bats something to come home too! Their lives suck! They should have a Tim!

-🐼🐼🐼

them fetishizing civilian tim's life, growing more obsessed and voyeuristic with him!!😍😍

[just-me-and-the-toaster]

@themeekwillinherit

Audrey stood shocked and still on the edge of what used to be Mushnick’s Florist. She was covered in dust, what looked like green grass stains, various cuts and bruises–including one jagged cut of significant size that was still bleeding–and her wedding dress was torn to shreds.  She wondered how much blood she had actually lost because she was feeling a bit woozy and wasn’t sure her thoughts were all straight…a talking plant? a talking, man-eating plant?!  Was she sure she was remembering that right? Was that what Seymour had been trying to tell–Seymour! He’d been inside the shop when it had collapsed!  Her fuzzy thoughts cleared and she anxiously called into the night, desperate to hear his voice answering her, “Seymour! Seymour, where are you?” She stumbled over the bricks towards the epicenter of the destruction, clawing at the fallen stone. “Seymour? Seymour!” Every moment that he didn’t answer her she grew more and more hysterical.  “Seymour!” She cried, and then winced, clutching a hand to her side.  “...Seymour?” She said, quieter this time as tears streamed down her face.  He was gone.  She had lost him. She began to sink to knees in despair. 

[the-ghostly-butterfly]

Snippet 1.4

Previous

The next morning, Henchman sat in the infirmary of Villain's Headquarters, the atmosphere as thick as smoke. Henchman figured Villain let slip to someone what they were planning to do the Henchman as a punishment for what they'd done, or maybe even details of how they'd be tortured or killed, or maybe even thrown out for the heroes to round up like a stray dog, most likely with their tongue cut out and hands broken so they didn't stand a chance at revealing anything they'd learned about Villain

They didn't really know anything useful for the heroes anyway. They knew Villain's favorite color (dark blue), favorite foods (anything with chocolate), allergies (blueberries), their least favorite movie genre (horror) and a couple other things they picked up from being around Villain so much.

They learned why Villain didn't get on well with their parents (they very much had a favorite child and it wasn't Villain) and what'd brought on their anger towards the Hero Agency once Villain brought them into their confidence, sure, but they didn't know much more about plans then the average civilian--that would be Right Hand. Their actual duties consisted of watching over supplies, managing other henchmen and keeping an eye on the overall workings of Headquarters.

Henchman hoped that taking down Hero would make Villain proud of them. Would make them allow Henchman into their inner circle and bring them into their confidence. They'd hoped to get as close to Villain as Right Hand--closer, after bringing down Hero. And instead, they'd suffered two humiliating defeats (and several broken ribs).

It all came to a head when Medic came in to check on Henchman's stitches. in addition to the blunt force trauma of being thrown through a window and into a wall, glass shards stuck into their back and left jagged, stinging wounds that oozed blood well into the night. Henchman sat on their cot, facing away from Medic as their wounds were inspected and re-dressed, and even then they could feel the hesitation Medic's hands, which were usually sure and quick.

Silence hung in the room like a dead man.

"What are they gonna do?" Henchman asked in a croaky voice, just barely above a whisper.

Medic paused. Considered. "What?"

"Villain. What are they gonna do to me?"

Again, they were met with silence. Henchman was sure the stress was worse than any answer Medic could've given until... Medic laughed. They laughed. It wasn't a snort or a scoff, or even a giggle--and they didn't even try to hide it! Medic stepped back for a moment, cackling as Henchman's stomach dropped. Of all the answers they were expecting, that was one they hadn't prepared for in the slightest.

"Oh, God, I needed that. You're hysterical."

"I'm being serious!" Henchman whirled around half way before the agony from the mess that somehow made up their abdomen sent lightning-hot reminders of why that was a horrible idea.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself," Medic scolded lightly, laughter still dancing in their eyes. "Have you really been stressed about that the whole time?"

"YES!" Henchman was near screaming now, though they weren't sure if it was ager or confusion that raised their voice. "Why wouldn't I be? Did you see how furious Villain was before they left? And I haven't seen them since. I left without permission and acted without orders; they have every reason to be upset. And everyone and everything's been so quiet today, it's like I've been handed down a death sentence."

Medic cleared their throat and the last embers of amusement flickered out. "Yeah, well, you're right about that, but you're not the one in danger. Or at least, you weren't when it mattered."

The tone of Medic's voice was dead serious--terrifying--and didn't help the growing pit of anxiety that had hunkered down in Henchman's stomach. They felt like they were going to pass out, woozy and dizzy and like the world was tipping out from under them.

A sharp snap under their nose anchored them a little more steadily to the bed they were sitting on, Medic having circled around the cot to look Henchman in the eyes. "You're fine, relax. The rest of us weren't supposed to tell you because it was bad, even for Villain, but I don't think you're in for anything more than a slap on the wrist, and neither does anyone else."

And they wouldn't understand that even if Henchman wasn't going to be killed, as thankful for that as they were, even a slap on the wrist as Medic said would destroy everything Henchman had been working towards. Everything they'd been hoping for. They should've known going into the fight that they were putting Villain's trust in them on the line, and they had--to a point.

They never expected they would fail as horribly as they did, nor that Villain would react with the kind of quiet fury usually reserved for their rare interactions with heroes or other members of the Agency itself. They hadn't expected to be sent to the infirmary the way that they were, or to be teleported directly to it from an alley just off the main scene of the fight after barely getting away.

And what they really weren't expecting was what hurt most: The fact that Villain had put them here and walked off without another word. They'd spoken in their office, but beyond that, there wasn't even a threatening note, or a warning given through Medic. They'd been effectively put in time out, knowing what might be coming but not having enough confidence to really prepare themselves one way or another.

“Hey, what did I just say?” Medic says, this time with annoyance in their tone. “Even if I don’t know the details, I know you’re gonna be fine, okay? You’re gonna be fine, and I don’t think you’re clocking Villain’s feelings towards what you did to Hero as correctly as you think you are, yeah?”

Their assessment was fair, if not a little stinging. They’d never been good at reading people, but they’d hoped Villain was the exception. Even with their monotone voice and often stony demeanor, Henchman knew how tired they were in a glance after a fight; knew when to call for Medic or coffee or let them get straight to their personal rooms and block everyone else from entering–something Right Hand was usually supposed to do. 

The entire night, they’d tried not to deliberate too much on Right Hand. They’d tried to ignore the stinging jealousy of the fact that there was already someone that was so close to Villain they could almost read their thoughts. They knew Villain kept a certian amount of professionalism and distance between themselves and Right Hand that didn’t seem to be present between Villain and Henchman, but most liekly because it wasn’t seen as necessary. They weren’t close enough for it to matter in the first place. 

“Okay,” Henchman murmured, and one look at Meidc’s face made it clear to even them that they didn’t beleive them for a second. Nevertheless, Medic stepped away. 

“Okay,” they echoed, with much more confidence. “You seem to be healing well, all things considered, and I have other patients I need to take care of, so I’m going to leave you here, okay? Try not to freak out too much on me, yeah?”

Henchman gave a weak nod, and an even weaker smile. They were sure that Medic could see them spiraling form the outside, but if they did, they didn’t say anything about it. “Yeah.”

Next

Tagging: @nameless-beanie @crow-with-a-typewriter @mylovelyme (If you wanted to be tagged and weren't please just poke me with a stick)

[maccreadysbaby]

oh shoot y’all here goes

a sneak peek of my next work, you won’t be surprised what it is

—

“Bentley. Bentley, c’mon dude. Breathe. We gotta go,”

Bentley was trying to breathe, but Asten was dragging him with one hand into the endless forest beyond, and dragging Nico with the other, who was crying hysterically, and Bentley was sure they were going to die. His breaths were coming out as nothing more than painful wheezes and his heart felt like it was going to rip his chest open. And to top it all off, he was in the middle of a forest on the outskirts of Gotham, and not a single Wayne knew about it. The only sounds were the crunching of leaves and the clinking of the crowbar against other tools in Asten’s toolbelt. Their bodies would never be found out here.

Asten kept trying to drag them, but it was pointless when they were both crying messes that couldn’t keep up to save their lives. 

“He’s freaking coming, you guys. Where are the bikes?” He whispered anxiously, whirling around and trying his best to keep the panic off of his face, for the sake of his younger friends. The crowbar hanging on his belt nearly hit Bentley in the stomach with the speed he pivoted. But Bentley was too focused on trying to get air into his lungs through his wheezy sobs and splutters to see Asten’s hazel eyes flick anxiously between the two of them.

“Jesus…” He muttered, and Bentley felt Asten’s hand land on the side of his head. “Do you have asthma?”

Bentley was pretty sure he didn’t. He’d only heard about asthma when Nico talked about his, but then again, asthma sounded a lot like anxiety attacks. At least the whole not being able to breathe part.

He wasn’t able to respond between the ragged breaths and cries that were forcing their way out of him, so he didn’t.

“Nico, can you-“

“I’m getting it!” The blonde exclaimed through sniffles and sobs of his own. He dug around in the pocket of his brown jacket, and Bentley heard the telltale shake of his inhaler right before the hiss of the medicine being released a couple times.

“Here,”

Bentley saw the quick exchange of the inhaler from hand to hand, and Asten started shaking it, leaning down farther so he could see Bentley’s face. His hand had moved from his head to his shoulder and stayed firmly there.

“You gotta breathe deep when I shove this thing in your mouth, Whittaker. It’ll help you breathe,”

Bentley nodded quickly, and Asten promptly put the inhaler in his mouth and pressed on it. He sucked in about as much air as he could force into his rebelling lungs.

“Perfect, just do it one more time,” Asten stated, moving his hand from Bentley’s shoulder to the back of his neck to keep his head in place. “Nico, you see anyone?”

“No,” He whimpered, his voice obstructed by his near endless crying. Asten pressed on the inhaler again, and Bentley made himself suck in what felt like a gallon of air. (It wasn’t actually that much air at all.) The medicine made him feel kind of woozy for a moment.

Asten kept his hand on Bentley, but stood up and looked around the woods, behind them at the cabin they’d come out of. “We have to go. You think you can run? I will not hesitate to give you the most terrifying piggyback of your life.”

Bentley forced a few more breaths in and out, and while the inhaler wasn’t making his stomach stop cramping or his panic fade, he wasn’t gasping for air so much anymore. 

Nico squeaked, a high noise in the back of his throat, and jerked on the sleeve of Asten’s jacket and choked on a few more sobs. “I see him coming.” 

Bentley turned back, and the unmistakable ray of light coming from a flashlight not that far behind them made him want to curl up and die.

“Run, go,” Asten ordered, ushering Nico out in front of him. “You got it, Bentley?”

“I got it,” He murmured. Running nearly a mile probably wasn’t ideal for someone still in the midst of an anxiety attack, but he didn’t really have a choice at this point. Asten shoved Nico’s inhaler in Bentley’s pocket, and they started running.

The cracking and crunching of leaves under their feet was nearly deafening in the pitch black, vacant forest, and the dim light from the moon and stars were their only source of vision. Asten stayed in the back, behind Bentley and Nico. Bentley was so focused on not falling and not throwing up and not hyperventilating that he shouted in fear when there was a loud metal CHINK! and Asten screamed.

Like actually screamed. Bentley hadn’t heard a sound like that since he’d been poisoned, and it sent both him and Nico pivoting backwards instantly.

Asten was on his hands and knees in the leaves and dirt, heaving for shaky breaths, and there was a bear trap on his right leg.

There was a bear trap on his right leg.

“Oh my God!” Nico shouted, dropping to his knees next to him. Bentley stood in a mixture of shock and terror before Asten forced out the words:

“Get it off,”

He wasn’t crying, but he was batting tears out of his eyes, which instantly made Bentley’s anxiety triple. He dropped down into the dirt on the other side of him.

Even in the dim light, Bentley could see the blood soaking through the leg of his pants. A lot of blood. And Asten was trembling, so Bentley put a hand on his side to give some kind of support. He had no idea how to remove a bear trap.

“These are freaking illegal-“ Nico was muttering (and still crying, now harder than he had been.) as he examined and tried to figure out any way to get the trap off. 

And there were footsteps coming. Bentley glanced up, and he could see the flashlight beam panning through the forest.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Nico murmured, bringing one hand up to his mouth and sobbing into it.

“Just…” Asten cursed under his breath, leaning into Bentley slightly to turn over and sit on his butt. “Just take it out of the ground, and… and we’ll get it off later.”

“You’re going to drag a bear trap on your foot where? Onto a bus? A taxi maybe?!” Nico squeaked. Asten reached for his toolbelt and pulled out the crowbar, holding it out to Bentley. The footsteps and flashlight beam were getting closer, and they wouldn’t be able to get away in time.

“Bentley,” Asten said seriously, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and attempting to hide a grimace of pain. Bentley looked down at the long, cool piece of metal he put in his hands. Wasn’t getting beaten by a crowbar how Jason died all those years ago?

He didn’t have much time to think about it, because the footsteps were getting closer, and they weren’t going anywhere.

Asten was hit by a wave of trembling, and he squeezed Bentley’s shoulder. “When he gets here, beat the hell out of him.”

—

AAANNDDD Bentley isn’t out of the woods yet (literally.) there was no way I could abandon this boy. The second installment of his series, A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne will be coming out soon! Keep ur eyes open 👀

@sassenashsworld @fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @manwrangler @and-andromeda

[fluffyllamas-23]

I love your new girls!! feel free to ignore this, but I'd love to see Audrey watching Taylor (my grumpy fav) try to power through something that like. actually freaks Audrey out? like a REALLY high fever that has her confused and weak, or appendicitis symptoms or hitting her head really hard or a peritonsillar abscess or something. idk, i just want to see them argue about whether or not they need to go to the ER, lol. if u don't like this as a prompt then just consider it a Nice Thought(TM) :)

Oooooh that IS a Nice Thought™. I know this was left years ago, so they’re not quite new anymore. This probably won’t be super long and also just kind of ends, but I hope you like it! Enjoy some “Taylor being a silly goose and worrying Audrey”

“Taylor, we’re going to the Emergency Room.” Audrey says urgently, hovering over her with concern plastered all over her face. “Let’s go.”

“No,” Taylor snaps weakly, blinking rapidly to try and clear the dots forming in her peripherals. Her head is swimming, and she feels so woozy. It’s probably the fever she knows she’s spiked. She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that does the trick and stops the world from moving. 

“You fell down the stairs. What do you mean ‘no’?” Audrey is nearly hysterical at this point.  

“I mean…I’m fine,” she grumbles.

Taylor had woken up with what they think is probably the flu. She’s feverish, headachy, shivery, and just downright exhausted and miserable. Despite Audrey’s protests, Taylor was fully intended to get some work done anyways. She had a few photoshoots she’d done that have yet to be edited, and she was adamant that it be done today. She was wildly optimistic, though. She spent more time sneezing and sniffling and coughing and fussing with her ears than she did actually working. Staring at the computer screen did nothing but make her headache about ten times worse, and now all she can focus on is the jackhammer that’s taken up residence in her skull.

Audrey was downstairs in the kitchen making Taylor some tea and something to eat when she heard Taylor fall down the stairs. It was a horrible noise, one that Audrey hopes to never hear again. 

One that sends her running faster than she’s ever ran in her life. 

So that’s where they currently are. Taylor is at the bottom of the first landing, flat on her back and staring straight at the ceiling. Audrey’s not sure how or why she has the energy to be arguing about going to the hospital, but she is not pleased. 

Audrey purses her lips. “People who are fine don’t just fall down the stairs, darling.”

“I just got kind of dizzy,” Taylor admits with a cough, and then adds quickly “but I’m fine!”

“You’re not fine!” She shouts. 

Taylor winces at the volume level, the throbbing in her head increasing.

“Audrey,” Taylor groans, “stop yelling. My head….”

“Sorry, sorry,” Audrey says softly, helping her sit up. The change in position makes her vision swim again, and she has to sit with her head between her knees until it passes. She straightens up and looks at Audrey. Audrey sighs, brushing the hair off of Taylor’s face. “I’m not mad, I’m just worried. Does it hurt because you have a headache or because you hit your head?”

Taylor chews on the inside of her cheek, avoiding Audrey’s gaze. “Both.”

“Okay then you need the ER,” she says firmly. “Will you please just let me take you?”

Taylor bites her lip, looking up at Audrey. “Can I admit something?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m not sure I can stand…I’m still dizzy, I might need help,” She admits sheepishly.

“Taylor,” she grins, cupping Taylor’s fever-warm cheek. “Have you been this stubborn because you’re embarrassed?”

Taylor scowls at her, “yeah. So what.”

“Sweetheart,” Audrey chuckles. “I can help you to the car. you just fell down the stairs.”

Taylor bristles. “I know. I was there.”

Audrey strokes her cheek. “Baby, I just meant you don’t need to be embarrassed. You’re sick, it’s okay.”

She sighs, turning away from Audrey to cough into her elbow. She really does feel ten shades of miserable, and all she can think about is how nice it sounds to just go back to bed. 

“Okay,” Taylor relents in a small, weak voice. “But can we stop for a milkshake on the way back?”

“Baby, you can have anything you want. Name it, it’s yours. Now, are you good to stand? I’d really like to get going.”

Taylor nods, holding out her hands for Audrey to help her to her feet.  She stumbles a bit, knees giving out once she’s standing upright.  Audrey wraps an arm around her waist, steadying her. 

“Sorry,” Taylor mumbles. “Thank you.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah…just…don’t feel great.”

Audrey frowns, “I’d say ‘not great’ is probably an understatement, my love.”

“Yeah…definitely is,” Taylor mumbles, suddenly feeling much worse.

“Then let's get you feeling better,” Audrey murmurs into her ear before kissing her cheek.  

Taylor is just relieved that maybe she can get some meds and this will all be over soon. 

She's also looking forward to the milkshake.

[seokgyuu]

My commentary on: Here comes the Sun after catching up >.< Part Dos

Chapter 7: I cannot with the 98s groupchat, please “strangers to lovers au”💀 seungkwan and chan casually talking about yns tweet has me dying, but I love seungkwan and Vernon’s different approaches to getting chan to ask YN out ㅠㅠ NOT HIM CALLING HER A GOOD GIRL BYE😭 I love how the 96s are just going in on YN over her texts with chan but I knew Woozi felt some type of way and I know wonwoo texted him and that’s on context clues🕵🏽

Chapter 8: I KNEW WONWOO JAD A FUCKING CRUSH ON HER TOO I KNEW IT but he’s so tragic like that’s noble of you to give up your crush for your friend but dang that’s angsty. She slapped cheol and struck fear into him we love that lol also her and Soonyoung bonding is so cute and fun

Chapter 9: DINOO YOU ARE BOLD💀 also Soonyoung stop please my sanity can’t EITH your jokes I’m smiling hysterically at my screen-.- they’re going on a date ahhh. Also YN is such a dumbass “take me out” in what context would be the other way😭 but Jihoon coping with his crush by being passive aggressive 💔😭

Chapter 10: Joshua please stop and let your true self show for once for Jeonghan’s sanity🤡 I love how invested the oldies are in yns business to the point where they’re dropping what they’re doing to go get the tea straight from her on her dinner with Soonyoung. Such a ride or die friend group😭

Chapter 11: of course we start the chapter with JiHan bickering lol and cheol has to mediate between them😭but Wonwoo is such a good friend to Woozi consoling him about his crush crushing on another man and going on a date with him. Idk I like how their crush on tan made them bond it’s kind of touching like you can tell wonwoo really cares and wants Woozi to be happy :(

Chapter 12: I love how the plot just TAKES A TURN lmaaoo😭💀 it was so refreshing to see the 97s again after only appearing at the beginning of the story!! As a fellow caffeine drinker I feel personally victimized by wonwoo help but I still love him though he’s just being caring 😭 also Mingyu developing a crush on Yn is so juicy and chaotic especially when chan is also his friend?!

HELLO i am sorry i fell asleep last night before I could answer 🥹. but let’s dive right into it!!!

the 98s… a different bunch fr, and the good girl … just spot on chan, like… damn. you are such a good detective i swear you’re gonna fade through this predicting all the twists and turns 😭😭

wonwoo is in fact a tragic little man. he is very selfless i guess, or is he? ig that will show with time 💃🏼. he does have his reasons and jihoon doesn’t know them so he is just like ??? dude tf. soonyoung and her friendship is so cute, but tbf all her friendships with the 96s boys are special in their own little way 🥹.

the take me out was SOOO 👎🏼 like obv he won‘t k word you, yn 😭 get a grip!!! but at least she is going on a date with him you know, like that’s her DREAM. only took her absolutely embarrassing herself for that to happen 🤡.

gonna be honest, joshua had a good start and now the 95 presence is getting weak i need to give them some more screentime JFJD if only to have joshua swear or smth and have everyone shook. omg the insta posts that day were so fun but also a pain in the ass i won’t even lie 😭 so much work, but it was worth it 💞 lmao jfjd.

cheol is indeed jihans mediator i think without him there would be blood. and yes as mentioned before wonwoo is a selfless dude and he just wants jihoon to be happy :( too bad jihoon is veeeery sure yn would never look at him that way 💔.

AAAAND we‘ve gotten to the thickening of the plot 👀. ah yes the appearance of one handsome kim mingyu, what a moment. and yo i am also a coffee or well caffeine addict i has three cups of coffee and two cans of energy drink last night the fact i fell asleep and did not have a heartattack instead js actually a miracle and should be medically investigated fr. and yes mingyu liking yn and chan liking yn… yn such a popular girly without even knowing it (yet).

thank you again for this amazing commentary, this makes the start of my day perfect 🩷🩷🩷

[esprei]

Wisdom teeth story

I was 17. I had to get put all the way under bc mine were impacted (sideways) and I also had to get all four of them taken out at once. I was put into a room with a wild looking dentist chair looking thing. One doctor came in and I mentioned feeling anxious. She asked me if I wanted laughing gas and my dumb ass asked, "will that cost my parents extra?" like it was the fucking scholastic book fair. She was like "no wtf" and I was like "cool let's do it then." So at some point some other people come in and they put this plastic thing on my face. It covers my mouth and nose and blocks my view of pretty much everything. They turn the shit on and man. That was an experience. It made my hands and feet feel weird and tingly. I didn't actually feel any calmer, but I could hear my heart monitor slowing down. It was trippy af, but cool. I wasn't uncomfortable or anything. So the anesthesiologist comes by and sprays something that he called "cold spray" on my arm over my brachial artery. It served both as an antiseptic and a numbing agent if I recall correctly. He puts an IV in me at some point, but I can't feel it or see what he's doing. I remember saying that I was thirsty and he was like "oh, this will help with that." I guess he was flushing it with saline first. But then it was night night juice time. He says, "You might start to feel a bit woozy." I look up to the ceiling and say, "Yeah, I sure do feel a bit woozy."

The next thing I remember after that was me sitting in a different room, in a different chair, laughing hysterically and pointing at my mom who was literally just sitting there. I don't remember waking up from surgery or walking to the recovery room, but they did mention afterwards that it took me about 5 minutes longer to wake up than it should have and they didn't like that.

But anyways, a nurse walked me out with my mom because she has a physical disability and wouldn't be able to do much if I stumbled. I still almost fell. But anyways I got in the passenger's seat and my mom drove us to the pharmacy. She told me very firmly to stay put and not to touch anything. I kept waving at her the entire five to ten minutes she was inside the pharmacy. There were big windows, so she could see me the whole time. She looked nervous as hell. So she came back to the car with my meds and made me take them. Then she went through the McDonald's drive thru and got me a large chocolate milkshake bc I couldn't eat solid foods yet. We got home and she tried to spoon feed me the milkshake except I couldn't feel my mouth so I literally could not tell when the spoon was in my mouth. Messes happened. I probably only got through a third of that shake. At that point she told me to go take a nap. Now, I am not a person who takes naps. I wouldn't even take naps when I was a toddler. But my ass slept that entire afternoon and finished the milkshake for dinner.

omg i can only imagine getting laughing gas for that instead and man your poor mom, i can totally understand her nervousness and concern during all of that, she was probably like "hurry up, hurry up, hurry uuuuuup" at the pharmacy lol, we were able to go through a drive-thru with mine

[schtewpidcupid]

Yo but like PC finally getting pregnant from the whole ordeal and instead of crawling to Whitney they skip town with Kylar.

oh my gooooodddd your mind anon

you go crying to kylar when the test comes back positive, too scared of whitney's potential reactions. you're sobbing, hands clinging to the front of his hoodie as you drench the dark fabric with tears.

what are you going to do, you wail. even if whitney doesn't punish you for this, you have no idea what bailey will do if he finds out - even the best case scenario of him just increasing your rent still has you raising your baby in the orphanage, and you can't allow them to grow up there and risk them ending up like you.

kylar cradles you as you cry, stroking your hair and whispering about how amazing you are, you're going to be the best mum ever, but this town is no place to raise a child.

he's right, of course. you need to get out while you still can. and kylar, sweet, devoted kylar, offers to come with you, helps shove whatever scant belonging you can carry into a bag. takes you to the bus station, holds your hands to stop them from trembling while the two of you - three of you, technically - wait for the bus to whisk you away from this shithole coastal town.

at first, whitney isn't that concerned when you're absent from math class. hell, its still early. maybe his plan worked, and now you're late for class because of morning sickness - that'll be useful for making you dependant on him, he thinks, when you're so woozy from hormones that you can't even make it to class without his help. he doesn't see you in the hallways after class, either, and it pisses him off a bit that you haven't seeked him out yet, but whatever.

it's at lunch when he realises something is actually wrong. really, really, fucked-up-beyond-all-repair wrong. he's seen you with robin enough times to know they're a fellow orphan and one of your friends, and evidently robin knows...something was going on between you and whitney. they're almost hysterical when they come up to him as he's about to jump the fence, begging and pleading for him to tell them that he's seen you, that he knows where you are.

you're gone, they tell him, and they don't think you're coming back because you're stuff is gone, too, and oh god what if bailey really got rid of you once and for all-

he manages to get his shock under control, shrugging and climbing the fence. when he drops down on the other side, he stares through the bars at robin, their shoulders shaking as they bite back sobs.

"they'll turn up, eventually," he says, as close to comforting as he can muster without disrupting his aloof facade. he turns away, shoves past his friends, tells them to fuck off when they try to follow him. pulling his phone out, he tries kylar's number (the freak has no idea whitney has it, but he needs a way to keep tabs on him) and it goes straight to an automated "number out of service" recording and, oh, whitney thinks he knows what happened and he's furious.

that fucking freak, that obsessed little weirdo, taking more than he was allowed to have. taking whitney's property. couldn't leave well enough alone once he'd had a taste of you, and now that little psycho has kidnapped you and locked you up somewhere.

well, whitney supposes he's going to have to call in a favour from his older brother. it's a hassle, but he's not going to let kylar fuck up his plans.

[suns-up-bunshine]

So yeah, I had just finished my junior year of high school and I immediately had to go do this shit bc all four of my wisdom teeth were sideways and needed to come out ASAP. Fast forward to the actual surgery, they told me to wear tennis shoes, which I thought was odd. Anyway they take me back and they just. Have me in a normal ass dentist chair thing. At this point I've had no drugs btw. One lady comes back there, so it's just me and her, and I'm like "haha yeah I'm anxious" and she goes "oh okay do u want laughing gas" and then my fucking dumb ass asks "will it cost my parents extra?" Like I'm asking for a goddamned cookie in a school cafeteria. And she's like "uhh no wtf" and I was like "okay then yea sure" so some more people come in and they put this big bulky plastic mask thing over my mouth and nose, which also happened to block my view of the arm they were putting the IV in (genius engineering there, that was actually so smart) and then they're like "you might feel tingly" and then my hands and feet definitely felt tingly and I also heard my heart rate slow down on the monitor even though I didn't feel any less anxious. Then the one guy put the anesthesia in my IV and was like "you'll prolly start to feel a bit woozy" and then I said "woah, I sure do feel a bit woozy" and then I time traveled and suddenly I was sitting upright and looking directly at my mom and just kept fucking laughing hysterically like she was the funniest bitch to walk the earth. She was like "what's so funny" and then I just looked at her again and went "HEHEHEHEHGHUGUGUGU" After that I just kept laughing and talking about how numb my face was and my mom tried to spoon feed me a chocolate shake but I could not get it in my mouth despite her literally doing it for me. Oh yeah also the shoes were just so that you had shoes on that you could walk in easily so you don't fall when you leave

wow anon thats

thats fucking wild laughing gas sounds insane

*little shop of horrors flashbacks*

[tomdiddlyumptious]

i know youre just as obsessed with the save your tears song as me, please make a fic with peter of it🙏🏾😭

lololol sorry i got this a while ago, but yes. i have an unhealthy obsession with this song. 

P.P~ Save Your Tears

warnings: none?? language??

words- 1.8k

You and peter...you and peter were special. When there was peter, there was you. No matter where you went, no matter where he went, you both were with each other, until you werent. 

“Y/n, i love you but i need this college, it means so much to me, tony wants me to go-” “tony wants you to go? He matters more then me? Peter ive been with you since forever” you said, tears pooling from your eyes, standing up in his room while he sat on his bunkbed- his cheeks and nose red as he looked at you. “So this is what its about, making tony proud? What about me peter? What about me?!” you waited for his answer, but when he didnt say anything, you just gave him an empty, sad look, a shocked look,”so this is it, huh? You go to college and you leave me and may in shitty new york, and for what?” you chuckled, “to make your” you did quote on quote “dad proud?” he became angered, staring daggers at you. “He cares about you but i clearly care more, you wouldnt even be thinking about college if it wasnt for me. Youd be stuck as spiderman still trying to make him proud!” you laughed.

“Peter, did you hear what i said, “STILL PROUD”. He doesnt even give you fuckin validation. You know what. Fuck you, have fun in missouri, i hope you make him proud” you said, stomping out and slamming the door behind you, power walking out and accidently ignoring may with your own crowded thoughts while you walked out.

But that was 2 years ago. 

You went to a college in Atlanta, peter long forgot, you and ned decided to go together. So there was a huge party in Atlanta, Harry knew about it causing Peter to know about it too. 

“Yeah theres this huge party in atlanta and i wanted to go” he said, in the kitchen of the apartment, eating chips as he looked at peter, who had his textbook in his hands and his glasses on, he looked at harry “your going out of state...just for a stupid party?” he said, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah i go every year,” “and your telling me this….for?”

“I want you to come with me” harry smiled, walking over and hopping on the couch while peter set his text book on the coffee table “i dont think so” he said, “oh come on! The most baddest chicks are their peter! And you need to get over y/n-” “shut up, harry” peter looked at him with a clenched jaw, your name was his kryptonite, making him weak in his stomach and his knees woozy as if they were gonna fall out. “Look, your doing it again” harry called him out. “Ive dated her for over 7 years harry, what am i supposed to do, toss her in the trash?” “Yes actually” he shrugged, making peter grumble before taking off his glasses and setting them down. “i’ll think about it” “i’ll pack your bag” harry did a quick grin at him before standing up and tossing the chips at peters chest. 

So there they are, moving into another apartment for three days, only taking out a few pairs of clothes and leaving it on the bed. “Party is tomorrow, we need drinks and stuff” “if its a huge party what do we need to buy stuff for?” peter asked, harry said, “You're too innocent” before walking off. 

“Ned! I do not need a plus one!” “it wont be a plus one it’ll be a plus two!” “im not going in there as a throuple” you turned to him, he didnt want you to look lonely inside of the party, so why not just go on an open date with betty and him? Because it weird, or thats atleast what you thought. You picked out your dress, your body has changed since senior year, making your curves more evident, which you didnt mind, it was nice. The dress was quite tight in the right places, making you feel confident, you asked betty how it looked, she said if she was a lesbian shed try to dig, which was unusual for someone like her to say that, but youd take it. “Are you sure, y/n?” he asked, genuinely, you turned to him and sincerely nodded. “Yes, thank you” 

And so there it was, harry and peter went to buy the drinks, two bottles of each just for home, which harry made peter try, peter wasnt pleasant but harry said hed need it. 

So there the party was, harry helping peter pick something out, making sure it wasnt too “nerdy” which ended up in harry having to give peter something to wear, an oversized orange shirt and jeans, a black hat backwards and some of peters normal shoes, vans. “Im proud of my creation” harry said while they both looked in the mirror, peter sighed in disgust “i hate you” “love you too bud” 

You and ned got ready, helping him out with which colognes he should use, you made him help you out with the makeup, it was a simple black dress but there was no harm in trying to pop it out, “red” “red? Are you sure? Does it bring out my skin??” you said, he nodded “wear it! And hurry! We have to pick up betty!”

It was 9 o’clock, the party already started as you and your best friends pushed past people to get something to drink, but one drink turned into two, and then to three, and then continuing on. Ned ended up with red lipstick and lip marks all over his face and a tie around his eyes, everyone cheering him on when he was in a drinking competition with the famous gregory, of course ned won, making the boys chant his ned “ned ned ned ned!” and you were in the front row with betty, a red cup in your hand and everyone letting out a deep “wooooo!” and whistles when ned stuck his arms out in the air before taking the tie off, you laughed as the party stopped the challenges and it was dancing time, so betty pulled you to the dance floor, you let out an “ahhh!” as in you didnt wanna dance but she gave you a stern look “loosen up” she smiled, dancing around and her grin widened when you started to slowly loosen up, drinking the forbidden juice in your cup before you threw it wherever.

Peter and harry finally arrived, drinks in hand as he looked around, “there really is hot chicks” peter said making harry laugh hysterically before grabbing a cup for peter. “Just make sure you leave before i do” “yuck” harry passed the cup to peter, and he took a sip, his throat burning before he looked at harry “dont give up, the party has just started! I have to use the bathroom” harry walked off, peter looked around at the different sections, he could sit on the couch but there was people making out there, he could join some of the shot gunning but it was clear they were already thirty drinks in, which left him to the dance floor. 

Dancing in the crowded hall, stood you, as before, his stomach turned and his knees felt woozy as his mouth slightly opened, it was really you. Your hips moving loosely with a huge smile on your face, you looked so much more happier without him, he started to feel bad, his mind coming to memories before you caught him looking at you, making your movements falter. Your mouth open with shock, a single tear coming down your face before he called out your name, you ignored him walking the other way. “Dammit!” he said, placing down the cup he didnt need before pushing past people, he could see the back of your head, he groaned when a girl pushed him “watch where your going dumbass!” she said, peter ignored her and came upstairs still following you, now into an empty hallway “Y/N!- Y/N- i know you can hear me theres literally nobody else in this fucking hallway!” he said, his walking stopped as yours did to, you looked back at him, turning to him. “Please” you made eye contact with him, your face empty as no words came out of your mouth, you walked to him, a hopeful smile on his face, until you walked passed him, your shoulder thumping against his that made him fall, he looked back at you and furrowed his eyebrows, his heart shattered in pieces as he swore he heard it break like glass, it was already cracked. 

You could have asked him why he broke your heart

You could've told him that you fell apart

But you walked past him like he wasn't there

And just pretended like you didn't care.

He ran away from you and now it was your turn, you told yourself not to cry, to save your tears for another day, or for another, he wasnt worth it, at least thats what you told yourself. He watched as you disappeared, sadness engulfing him as he sat against the wall. “Fuck” he ran his hands through his hair before he looked your direction again, tears threatning to roll down his cheeks as he couldnt believe that happened, but it was his fault, and once he noticed that, he broke down in tears.

he made you think that he would always stay

He said some things that he should've never said

 He broke your heart like someone did to his, 

And now you won't love him for a second time.

He didnt know it would make you cry when he ran away, he didnt even know why he ran away. He wanted to chase after you, for you to take him back because this time he really wanted to stay, two years, much too late. He didnt deserve you, you deserved better, not someone who left you for someone he didnt even talk to anymore, tony. 

“Save your tears, y/n” you told yourself, but you couldn't take it, you ran to your car and opened the door, getting in the driver's seat you cried, slamming the door shut as your back hunched and you hit the hunk, kicking and hitting the steering wheel until you couldn't anymore, tears ruining your makeup as you looked at yourself through the rear view, your hair a mess, your eyeliner ruined, you, ruined. you couldn't save your tears, you couldn't save them for another day, or another. Peter, the love of your life, ran away, and you cant love him again, because, he broke you.

[rovinky]

thank you @sleepy-skittles i definitely needed this after yesterday's awfulness

I wasn't sure what to write for this at first but I think I finally figured it out - this is longer than I thought it would be oops, maybe I should put it on ao3 idk

Rovinsky + “this isn’t our actual first kiss but it is our first important kiss”

The first time he ever kissed Kavinsky it had been after a race.

Gansey hadn't wanted him to go but he'd been feeling an itch burn beneath his skin. He'd needed to crawl out of Monmouth and away from morality for the nighty came for him a second time, Ronan shoved him again, and again, and again, until his fingers curled in Kavinsky's tanktop and he dragged him in for a kiss. The taste of cigarette smoke and bitter alcohol swathed over his tongue and the smell still makes him a bit woozy even now.

After the first kiss, they'd parted and didn't speak of it again.

The second time he kissed Kavinsky had been during a substance party.

Gansey hadn't wanted him to go but he'd been feeling an itch burn beneath his skin. He'd needed to crawl out of Monmouth and away from morality for the night. He'd arrived at Kavinsky's party where he'd been asked to produce a substance.

"Here's your fucking substance, asshole," Ronan growled before laying a wet kiss on Kavinsky's mouth before he could protest.

He can still remember how the boys' jeered all around them. How Kavinsky's body stiffened and then relaxed in his arms. His own flushed reflection staring back at him in Kavinsky's mirrored shades when they parted.

For a second time, they parted and didn't bring it up again.

The third time he kissed Kavinsky had been in a dream.

They met in his dream space, standing together in the woods. Kavinsky had grinned at him, wild and boyish. His shades were gone and for once, Ronan couldn't tell if Kavinsky was inebriated. All he knew was he'd laughed and said, his voice teetering into derisive, "You want to kiss me so bad."

The worst part was Kavinsky was right. He rolled his eyes and pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around Kavinsky's slim waist. He felt Kavinsky press something into his hand and when Ronan woke and could move again, he'd shifted his gaze to his palm to see what it held.

A small little orb hovered over his palm. Inside, Ronan could see galaxies swirl. Their own little secret.

The fourth time he kissed Kavinsky had been much later. After high school, after Adam graduated from Harvard, and when they both moved to Boston to chase Adam's career. He hadn't expected to see Kavinsky ever again after a falling out their senior year of high school. He never expected Joseph Kavinsky to become a part of his life again.

Boston wasn't exactly where he thought he would be calling home either but Adam had found a job in the city and Declan had moved in with his artist girlfriend Jordan in the same area. Despite his claims of hating Declan, Ronan could never quite shake his need to be around family.

So, Ronan made a life here.

At times, he would travel around to the country to escape the city's oppressive atmosphere, working on farms and volunteering his time at animal sanctuaries. He made friends with a girl named Hennessy on accident while Adam was at work. They hit it off when she hopped into his car and told him to drive, drive, drive.

Afterward, they ended up in the apartment he shared with Adam and she laughed hysterically when she found out his name. "Ronan Lynch?" she'd cackled. "Your Declan's brother."

They'd bonded even further when they both found out they were dreamers.

A night of dreaming left them both buzzing and wanting, feeling drunk without having to drink, they winded up in a tattoo shop. Proclaiming they would get matching tattoos, even if Ronan had no intention of letting anything on his body match someone else. Hennessy was taken off to one room and Ronan to another where he'd come face to face with a boy - now a man - he hadn't seen in six years.

Joseph Kavinsky gave him his second tattoo.

Joseph Kavinsky also gave him his third tattoo and fourth tattoo. Ronan kept returning for more ink and Kavinsky's talented hands.

"You want to kiss him again, don't you?" Adam had asked one night after Ronan spent hours talking about Kavinsky's shop.

Maybe he did but he quickly denied it. Adam only smiled at him; the kind of smile which left him feeling stripped despite being fully dressed.

"It's okay if you do," Adam whispered. "I'm secure in us."

Ronan returned for a sixth tattoo and they were at the shop until past closing. Kavinsky locked up once they were done and Ronan stole the fourth kiss. He pressed him against the BMW and kissed fast.

"What are you doing?" Kavinsky had asked.

He didn't know. They parted again for the fourth time but unlike the other times, this last one haunted him. It followed him around and entered his dreams.

Hennessy told him to just fuck Kavinsky and get it over with. Adam told him to ask Kavinsky on a date and get it over with. Gansey told him he really needed to focus on himself and get over it.

Ronan could not get over it.

Which is how he ended up standing out of Kavinsky's shop, staring at the Open sign, and trying to talk himself into walking in. It's been two weeks since their fourth kiss - not that he's been counting.

He takes a step closer to the shop and then backs off, before pacing back and forth in front of it, until the sound of the door opening makes him freeze and spin around. Kavinsky stands there, his head tilted to the side, looking ridiculously kissable in the afternoon sun.

"Lynch? What the hell are you doing?"

Ronan stammers, wishing he could formulate words but they're failing. He knows two languages and can't even formulate one sentence.

Kavinsky raises an eyebrow. "Is it your tattoo?"

"No," he finally manages. "No- the tattoo is great." He rubs the back of his neck, looking down at his scuffed combat boots. "K..."

"Yes?"

He wants to ask Kavinsky out but he has no idea how to do it. Of course, Adam had been the one to kiss him. Then, they'd just started being boyfriends; there had never been an 'asking out' process. Everything had just happened.

"Look, I have clients coming..." Kavinsky starts but Ronan steps in and kisses him again to shut him up.

There's a moment where Kavinsky stands there, stunned, not kissing him back but then they both relax into it and Kavinsy releases the door so they can step into each other's space. They kiss hungrily until they're both breathless and pulling away for air.

"Shit," Kavinsky gasps. He reaches up to touch his lips, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

Ronan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a matching miniature galaxy sphere and places it in Kavinsky's palm. "Text me."

Their parting less like shrapnel now and more like waves longing for the return to the shore.

A text comes later in the evening and Ronan practically dives for his phone which if Adam had been home, he'd be fairly embarrassed.

-> so about that kiss

Ronan's heart flutters as he types back, glad Kavinsky stole his number from his paperwork. Of course, he's never changed his number, maybe Kavinsky still had it from Before.

<- yea?

-> are you sure you want to do this? are you sure you want to get to know me? pretty sure you hated my guts at the end of hs

<- i did but tbf you were a piece of shit

-> thanks

<- so was i

-> we both were

<- i suck at apologies man so idk if you're wanting one or what

-> i'll take another kiss instead

<- when?

-> whenever you want to give it to me

Ronan chews his bottom lip and sends Kavinsky a final text, asking him to come over. He sends over his address and mentally makes a note to tell Kavinsky everything.

About Adam. About their life here. About their agreement. They can make it work.

The sixth time, arguably the first important time happens six months later. Sunday, the shop is closed, and they're standing in The Insitute of Contemporary Art, staring at artworks by an artist Hennessy is currently obsessing over. The rain outside is partially what drove them indoors to start with but Ronan supposes it kills two birds with one stone.

"I don't get it," Kavinsky says while he tilts his head back and forth.

"I don't think you're supposed to." Ronan turns away from the art so he can look at Kavinsky instead. He studies Kavinsky's profile, his sharp nose, and soft lips. The way his brow creases together while he looks at the painting.

"Pretty sure it's supposed to be about something important- Ronan-." Kavinsky gasps when Ronan turns him to face him. "You almost knocked me on my ass."

"You're fine," Ronan replies. He presses his forehead lightly to Kavinsky's, squeezing his hand where he holds Kavinsky's smaller one in his own. "I'm gonna say something and you're going to think I'm insane."

Kavinsky rolls his eyes. "Are you going to say you like this painting because it's fucking ugly."

"I love you."

Kavinsky blinks, clearly looking like he needs to reboot. "Excuse me?"

"I know it sounds insane but I do, I love you." Ronan blushes, wishing he hadn't spoken at all. Telling Adam he loved him had happened quickly and with ease because he knew it to be true. Now, he's standing at the precipice of loving someone else, someone he'd never expected to love but he does all the same.

"You don't have to say it back," he adds quickly. "I don't expect you to... I just wanted you to kno-." Ronan cuts off because Kavinsky is kissing him. They kiss in front of a Jeff Koons which he's sure Declan would shudder at and he knows Hennessy will laugh at. They kiss until Ronan feels dizzy and when they part, he almost has to sit down.

"Fuck," Ronan whispers.

Kavinsky's face is flushed and he clears his throat, slowly turning to look at the painting again but Ronan feels him squeeze his hand subtly. "So, what do you think this means again?"

Ronan smirks and squeezes back. "I think it fucking sucks but let's go ask Parrish."

Hearing Kavinsky laugh is enough to make everything worth it.

[purpleyellow]

Top 10 anime betrayals

Seventeen 14th member

Hayun’s masterlist

“Seungkwan suspects of everyone but Hayun, based on this video” Thanks for the anon who requested this!!

a/n:  Feel free to let me know your thoughts as well as send me some requests💙. Ask box is also open to random chats.

“Here we have Hayun looking cute today” DK narrated as they sat on a semi-circle making the girl furrow her eyebrows.

“Who are you talking to?” She turned to him trying not to laugh, even though they were surrounded by cameras, the directors had yet to start recording.

“I’m just stating” He smiled side hugging her and laughing at Seungcheol’s scoff.

“Hey, I do look pretty cute,” She said slapping the boy on the shoulder.

“I never said you didn’t” He giggled rolling his eyes at the same time the producer started telling them the rules.

Lowering their heads after being told, the members started drumming on the floor as one of the producers selected the mafias for the game. Hayun waited a few seconds before feeling someone poking her back, indicating she would be one of them, and when being told to raise her head she made quick eye contact with Joshua, Woozi, and Vernon.

Looking down again, she waited for the police to get picked and then got up with the rest of them.

“Joshua looks awkward” Jeonghan pointed out starting the whole accusatory part without anything actually happening.

Smiling at them bickering, Hayun didn’t notice Seungkwan approaching her side and giving her a side hug.

“Hoshi Hyung seems very suspect” He whispered to her making her laugh and hug him back.

“He does, doesn’t he? We should keep an eye on him” She said silently and fixed a few of his hairs before letting him go stand on his spot.

Fixing her bunny ear muffs, Hayun stood in place and waited for the game to start, thankfully she wasn’t upfront with Vernon and Joshua, because, when a ballad started playing instead of their song, it took her a few seconds to process what she had to do.

Focusing on the count and screaming the lyrics internally, she managed to block out the members next to her and actually pulled off the choreography. Taking off the muffs and her in-ears, she tried to understand what they were talking about.

Unconsciously, Seungkwan stood next to her again as the other members argued about Dokyeom being the mafia. 

“Prove to us you’re not it,” The boy said making her nod.

“I’ll prove to you next round” DK tried to argue and the girl let out a scoff, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him.

“We should start by killing someone we’re sure of,” Jeonghan said after the room had gotten lost in a discussion and Seungkwan turned to him, Hayun gave him a supportive pat on the back to indicate she was “suspicious” as well and the others began accusing him.

“You can’t do this to me” DK pointed at the oldest and the girl rolled her eyes, having seen that whole act once before.

Falling back into the discussion, they decided to kill Seokmin first and proceed with the game.

Running through the “heads down” process quickly, Hayun agreed when the boys pointed at Mingyu for them to kill and waited for the cop to investigate someone. Standing back up, she ran to the back of the room and waited for the song to start playing again so she could, hopefully, find her spot without a problem.

As soon as the old song started playing for her, she saw Dino running to the front indicating it was his part getting played, so she stood near Minghao where she should be. Following the count in her head, the girl noticed Woozi stood in his place for too long, causing some of the members to laugh and start pointing at him for getting caught, but she only smiled and kept counting in her head.

The music stopped and once again they went to the voting part, everyone suspecting Jihoon and ignoring the excuses he could come up. But they also had to vote another person out, so the talk about Seungkwan only pointing fingers and not dancing started.

“Ahh Noona, tell them isn’t me” He whined turning at her but Hayun shook her shoulders and laughed, not really knowing what to say to him.

“I noticed someone was very focused as well, I think we should keep an eye on Vernon Hyung,” Dino said trying to include more people in the talk but only getting a comical “WHAT?” from the boy in question.

Falling on her knees laughing, Hayun leaned on Jeonghan’s leg and decided to watch the debate from the floor, but her peace didn’t last long, since somebody suspected of her too.

“I think Hayun was way too focused as well. She barely made eye contact with anyone during the round” Minghao said from her right making her gasp and put a hand on her chest.

“You know how I am if I didn’t concentrate it would look like I have two left feet” She smirked making some of the boys laugh since she was one of the quickest to pick up that particular choreography.

Returning to the talk before, the girl was still sitting leaning sideways on Jeonghan, the group decided to rule out Woozi and Seungkwan for once but when it was time for voting, most of them decided to keep the youngest.

“Oh, thank you!!” He said relieved and dropped on the ground next to her hugging her and she patted him on the back, smiling a bit nervous people would go back to suspecting of her.

“Let’s look at other people. I’m suggesting Scoups” Hoshi said out of nowhere making the oldest widen his eyes in shock.

Laughing with the rest of the members, Hayun got up from the ground and hugged him, still laughing hysterically, when he was declared a dead citizen.

Going back to her spot, they had another round of killing someone, Hoshi, off with Joshua and Vernon and waiting for the cops to investigate someone. Getting up again, the members formed a circle and started head-bopping when the song began playing.

Standing between Seungkwan and Dino, she found strange when the youngest made a dance move that didn’t match the count she had going on her head. Quickly stealing a glance at Vernon, he gave her a small shake of his head, making Hayun ignore the gesture Chan had made.

Counting backward from three, the members started dancing in unison and for her relief, she was in sync with most of them, well except Joshua who had fallen into the youngest’s trap and Jeonghan who took a little to catch up with them.

Smiling at Shua every time he made a mistake, Hayun gave up quickly trying to stay on his side, and by the way he walked to the middle of the circle it seemed like he had given up as well.

“We need to pick another person,” Someone said and Dino raised his hand

“I really think it’s Vernon or Hayun,” He said and the girl scoffed.

“After all, I did to you?” She said with fake betrayal and Seungkwan nodded next to her.

“Why are you doing that, it’s clear it’s Jeonghan. He really is stupid” Seungkwan exclaimed walking to the center of the room to try to make a point.

After a few minutes of discussion, Dino decided to speak up and reveal he was the police and that Jeonghan was indeed a civilian.

“I am the police,” Jeonghan said pointing to himself. “Why are you pretending to be the police?”

“Arg, why are you doing that?” Dino rebutted but got cut off.

“Can you just listen to me once?” Joshua spoke and the group started laughing. “Are you really going to kill me?”

“Turn to the camera, turn to the camera,” Scoups told him and when he faced forwards they voted to kill him off. 

Falling back into a discussion, she watched as the focus went around Dino and Jeonghan both being suspected as mafias and saying they are cops.

“Since there are still two mafias left, can’t we just kill both of them?” Hayun asked the producer making Chan whine.

“Noona, really?? I’m the police and he’s a citizen” He said once again making her squeeze his cheeks and look back at the producer.

Getting their approval, the group decided to kill them both, finally declaring the mafias as the winners. Patting Seungkwan on the back, Hayun walked smugly with Vernon to the center of the room, making Minghao softly whisper an “I knew it” and Seungkwan exclaim in betrayal.

“You were one of them??” He pointed to the girl with wide eyes making some of the boys laugh and she blew a kiss to him.

“I think we are the best,” Vernon said to the camera and Hayun threw a peace sign, ready to choose who would have to do the punishment.

“I can’t believe you tricked me” Seungkwan scoffed shaking his head at her smiling figure.

[aellynera]

Somewhat Worse for the Wear (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader)

SOMEWHAT WORSE FOR THE WEAR (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader)

(when i started writing this, i did not know it was National Tequila Day, but i guess it worked out? just another of my moments of my brain shouting that i needed to write this. bottoms up!)

Word Count: 2876(ish)

Summary: There are reasons why you should not drunk text. But there are also reasons why you should.

Warnings: Some language/suggestions. Alcohol consumption.

(((note: Pope’s texts are in bold. Your texts are bold and italic.)))

Hey.

...Hey.

What are you doing?

You were out with some of your coworkers, after an incredibly long and stressful day (and a horrible week, to be honest) and you were finally able to sit, have dinner and margarita, and vent about the trials of the day. You were chatting and laughing and talking about nothing in particular and having a much-needed night out. You were actually feeling happy, which you hadn’t felt in a hot minute and it was wonderful.

And then you found yourself answering Pope’s text. Dammit.

Why had he even texted you? Wasn’t he in Brazil, or Colombia, or...well...some other country far to the south of where you were now? The last time you’d seen him had been right before he left. He’d come to your apartment to say he was leaving, that he’d taken another mission, that he had to go and it was important, that he just wanted you to know. Which was fine, really. Except for the part where you’d stupidly thought that maybe your friendship with an extra side of carnal knowledge might actually evolve into something more. But this was Pope, who were you kidding?

Since he’d disappeared, he had only texted you three times. On your birthday, then that Christmas, and then the following birthday. No calls, nothing else. Just those texts and you had never replied. You had thought about it. You had thought about it, about him, so many times since he’d left, but you could never bring yourself to actually respond or reach out to him. Until now.

Out to dinner.

Oh. Hot date? :)

No, just coworkers. Long week.

He had told you he was leaving. You’d told him that sounded nice and to be safe. He’d asked if he could see you when he got back. You’d asked if you could talk about what had been going on between you for the past year. The answer to both questions was deafening silence that swirled between you, heavy and uneasy. He had looked away, somewhere over your shoulder, off to the distance with his jaw set. No words. So you asked him to kindly fuck off, and to his credit, he did exactly what you asked.

That was two years ago.

And now he was texting you and with a single word ruining your relaxing unwinding dinner.

Can I see you? I miss you. :( :( :(

And you were answering him. What were you thinking.  You told yourself it was just the surprise of seeing his name pop up on your phone, and it would be rude to just ignore him. Right? Your eyes scanned the room and narrowed at the bartender; totally his fault. He was making these margaritas way too strong and you were almost sure he was using the top-shelf to make a house drink, that bastard. Yep, totally the margaritas

And what was with the emoticons? Pope was most definitely not an emoticon kind of guy. You weren’t generally an emoticon kind of gal, either, but he started it.

Aren’t you like, in Colombia or somewhere? ;)

A winky face? You sent him a winky face. You considered crawling under the table to die of embarrassment at yourself, but you were already getting weird looks from your friends. Were you that distracted? Obviously. Because you sent him a winky face.

A few minutes passed in blessed silence, then your phone went off again.

Nope. Come on, let me come see you. I’ll buy you all the pussy you want.

Your friends gave you oddly concerned looks when margarita shot out your nose onto the table in front of you. Damn that burns…

EXCUSE ME?!

Drinks! Pussy ass drinks! That freaking girly fruit shit you always liked. Not talking about actual...unless you…

Santiago Garcia, are you drunk?

...no?

No, as in actually no, or no as in, I’m holding a bottle and most of it is gone.

The second one. More or less.

You sighed. You should never have picked up the phone.

Have to go, Pope. Please, just don’t do something dumb like drive.

Or send me more texts, you thought as one of your friends asked if everything was okay.

You nodded rapidly and mouthed that everything was fine, and quickly went to send a final text reply to Pope. A split second before you could get your words on the screen, another message popped up.

I love you.

That was not what you were expecting. Or needing to hear right now. Or had any idea how to deal with, so you just pinched the bridge of your nose, shot Pope a final message, and then shut off your phone.

Goodnight, Pope.

*****

It had been a few weeks since that night Pope texted you those three little words that you were not expecting to hear, and since you were fairly certain he was drunk, you let the whole thing slide. To his credit, there had been no more messages waiting when you turned your phone back on. Life continued, basic and normal.

Until tonight.

You were sitting in a bar on a Friday night after another very, very long day at work. You were kicking back and letting loose with your friends, finally getting a chance to let all the stress of the day (and the whole week, again, to be honest) flow out of you as freely as the liquor was flowing in. You were singing along, not necessarily badly but definitely loudly in the way that only alcohol can enhance, to the cover band currently up on the stage.

And then, after more than your fair share of tequila shots and a rousingly intoxicated sing-a-long of Pour Some Sugar on Me, you decided that texting Pope would be the most fabulous idea in the whole entire universe. Your phone was in your hand before you knew it.

Hey handsome.

I miss you and I wish you were here so I could bounce quarters off your ass.

Hey cariña. I’m sorry, what are we doing now?

You looked down at your phone and cackled hysterically even as your face flushed with heat. That...wasn’t exactly what you meant, but now you were having a very difficult time getting the image of Pope’s ass out of your head. Dammit. And, well, at least half of you hoped he wouldn’t reply, the other half hoped he would, and most of you wasn’t expecting him to.

But of course he replied. It was Pope, after all.

Lololol oops I mean wish you were here we could play quarters. Kick your ass.

Uh huh. What number shot are you on?

How did he know you were doing shots? Oh, right. You were now remembering that time when he said some dumb shit and you decided accepting his shot challenge was an incredibly brilliant way to shut his ass up, and the next thing you knew, it was a scene out of Raiders of the Lost Ark with a mountain of empty shot glasses and a mostly empty bottle of John Crow Batty between you and then you’d stumbled out into the parking lot and gone into the alleyway and...well. He knew you liked shots.

Irrele...Iverant… dunno haha.

Are you okay?

M fine. Out with friends. Shots.

Yeah honey, I got that part. Do you need me to come get you?

Nope. M good. Gonna uber home. No worry.

Okay, if you’re sure. But if you need me, you call me and I’ll come to wherever you are, no questions.

In a plane?

Sorry honey, what?

You’re in Braz..Colomb...wherever. You just gonna walk? Need a plane!

You were sure you could hear him laughing. Could people really laugh through texts? You could see him shaking his head with that bemused half-grin on his face. He had that look a lot around you, but especially when you had too much tequila. You were funny when you had too much tequila. He was funny when you had too much tequila.

You had definitely had too much tequila.

No, I’m not in Colombia anymore. Told you that last time.

Ohhhh. Did he? You couldn’t really remember that part. You were starting to remember other parts of your last conversation, though.

Sorry about last time btw. 

Huh. Was he? Were you? Your head was swimming and your brain was woozy and it felt like you were inside a washing machine with an unbalanced spin cycle. You no longer felt any real control over your fingers and what they were typing. You were definitely feeling like you needed to...to… - stop texting, stop texting, stop texting - you brain chanted. You were very willing to ignore it.

Ok so no planes. Fuck you Santiago I wanted you to make me fly.

...are you sure you don’t need me to come get you?

I’m sure. Gonna call that uber. Think too much tequila.

Ok. Hey, do me a favor, text when you get home? So I know you’re ok. Please?

You could do that. You could definitely do that. Maybe. Would your phone still work when you got home? Maybe it only worked here in the bar, or whenever you had some booze. You definitely weren’t going to have any booze when you got home so maybe your phone would just...stop working? You weren’t sure how much of anything worked right now.

Too much tequila.

Cariña?

For a fraction of a split second, your agave-addled brain caught up to what your fingers were doing. Suddenly you felt queasy and groaned, flagging down one of your friends and only having the fortitude to possibly mumble something about getting a ride. They nodded, calling for your ride as you typed one more message, then shut off your phone and threw it into your bag.

I love you, Santiago.

*****

You ended up not texting Pope when you got home. Hell, you don’t even remember getting home. You remember your friend calling the uber, you sort of remember leaving the bar, you kind of remember actually getting in your ride, and you ever so slightly remember actually getting into your apartment. Fortunately for you, you also remember that the uber driver was also someone you worked with in the office and a trustworthy person, so getting home in one piece wasn’t ever a problem.

Staying in one piece once you got there wasn’t either, as you promptly passed out face down on your bed. You woke up in the same place, in the same clothes, vaguely smelling like a distillery. Sitting up proved to be your worst idea in at least the past several hours and you crashed back down onto your mattress, groaning.

As you fell forward (the motion doing having no actual benefit for the throbbing in your head) the mattress gave a little bounce and your phone fell out of your bag, which had ended up lying on its side up by your pillows. Grabbing it, you opened one eye to turn it on and check the time. Why was it off? Oh, right, the fuzzy edges of your memory from the night before said, you’d turned it off at some point...maybe at the bar? In the uber? You could recall very little. Until about two minutes later when that evil little piece of technology beeped an extremely uncalled for series of pitched tones and all your new messages loaded.

And then you saw it all and remembered everything.

Your head was throbbing mercilessly as you forced yourself to read through all the messages. Quarters. Shots. Airplanes. Offers of assistance. Pope’s ass. Telling Pope that...dammit.

How much tequila did you drink?

Pope had sent you six messages since you’d told him...that. Wincing, you read them quickly.

Hey, you get home ok?

I hope you’re ok. Please just let me know?

Cariña? Honey?

Please don’t make me send in the cavalry to check on you.

One tequila two tequila three tequila fucking call me.

That’s it, I’m coming over to check on you. No arguments. I need to know you’re not like drowning in a puddle of half-digested Patron or some shit.

The time stamp on the last message said he’d sent that particular one twenty minutes ago. No, no, no, you did not want him coming over. How did he even know where you lived? He spent the last two years in the jungle somewhere, it’s not like you sent each other postcards. There was still time to call him off. You summoned any bearings you could pin down and sent him a text.

Hi. I’m fine. Hangover. Don’t need to come over. Sorry about last night.

That should be direct and to the point. Pope always did appreciate a direct approach.

Too late, I’m in the parking lot.

Fuuuuuuuck.

You dragged yourself over to the window, peeking out through the slats in the blinds. Sure enough, you could see him - the back side of him anyway, but you’d recognize that backside anywhere - leaning into the back of his SUV. You let the slats snap back into place and faceplanted back on the mattress. Was your headache getting worse?

Really I’m fine. Feeling sick. Gonna be in the bathroom all day.

Coming into your building now.

Pope, seriously.

At your door.

Sure enough, you heard a light knock. Dammit. Santiago Garcia was officially the most annoying, most persistent, most frustrating, most caring and loyal person you’d even had the (mis)fortune of knowing.

You still weren’t going to open the door.

Come on, cariña, open up. I come bearing gifts.

He was just on the other side of your front door and he was still sending you texts. Of course he was. He probably thought it was hilarious. Part of you had to admit, if the roles were reversed, you would think so too.

I don’t want anything from you, Pope. I want to go back to bed.

Not leaving until I see for myself that you’re ok.

Santi, please. Can’t do this right now.

You thought you knew him well enough that, if you really insisted, he would leave you alone. And you knew he normally would have done what you asked; he’d done so before, left when you asked. And it had been two years since he’d listened to your directive and today, frankly, he wasn’t having it.

Baby, let me in or get ready to call the cops on me, because I can and will pick this lock.

He would, too, that asshole. Growling in frustration, you somehow made it to the door without too much swaying and tripping, turned the lock and the deadbolt. You pulled the door open and the vaguely surprised look on his face dissolved into a grin. He was biting his lip trying to hide it. It wasn’t working.

Your hair looked like a very cranky bird had taken up roost on top of your head. Your eyes were ringed in black from where your mascara had rubbed away and a smeared streak of eyeliner ran down your left cheek. The right side of your face had wrinkled indents from where you landed on the mattress and spent the night on top of your rumpled comforter. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy and the expression on your face could only be described as pissed off and exhausted.

You were beautiful.

He handed you the bag in his hands, then took his phone back out of his pocket. You just blinked at him in confusion until your text alert went off again. Rolling your eyes, you reached for your phone and sighed.

I brought you ginger ale. And also a burrito from that place you always liked, the one around the corner.

You opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but Pope shook his head and nodded towards the phone in your hand. You tilted your head in an approximation of really? and he just raised an eyebrow in response. You rolled your eyes - ow, that hurt - but did as he was indicating.

How did you even know where I live?

Figured you probably didn’t move. But asked Frankie just to make sure.

Gonna have a talk with that boy about giving out my personal information. Pendejo.

Pope laughed softly at that and picked up his phone again. The corners of your mouth turned up slightly despite your best efforts.

I also brought you a giant bottle of Excedrin and a sleep mask. And I’m really good at giving hangover-curing massages. What do you say?

You wanted to say no. You wanted to close the door in his face and pretend that every text you’d exchanged over the past few weeks was a bold-faced lie. You wanted to believe that the man standing at your door was just an illusion and the real one was still somewhere deep in the jungle, far away from your house and your heart.

But none of that was true.

Dammit.

You stepped aside to let him walk in the door, and as he did, he opened his mouth to say something to you. But you closed your eyes and shook your head for just a moment, then his phone dinged and he looked down at the display.

;)

~end~