#< jon without shoes

[madetobeyourman]

accidentally fell face-first back into bon jovi and made a sideblog for it. if you want to know my main for certain shoot me an ask or a dm

new jersey as an album and an era drives me a special kind of up the wall <3

rpf but not tinhatting, i go buckwild for jon & richie's relationship in any interpretation

this blog runs on a queue that gets shuffled every so often. i like ask & tag games, they just might take me a little while to get to !

members are tagged by first name, relationships as "[name] and [name]", decades & eras are tagged when i can identify them definitively. other musicians are tagged with their full name/stage name. check the tags on this post for more specific tags that may come up

[bylertruther]

with the way that some of you talk about will you'd expect every other scene of his to be a suicide attempt, for there to be scenes of him talking about lonnie negatively or at-fucking-all, for there to be scenes where we can see this supposed disgust or hatred for his sexuality, for him to have been the one that said "what did you think really? that we were never going to get girlfriends and stay in my basement playing games for the rest of our lives?" and "it's not my fault you don't like girls!" and "we're friends! we're. friends.", for him to have been the one to make fun of mike's campaign, for him to have been the one to ditch his interests to be Cool and Grown, for him to be the one with the family that doesn't give a rat's ass about him, for him to be the one in a relationship with someone he doesn't love because he doesn't want to face the truth, for him to be the one that can't ever talk about his feelings or let himself feel them, for him to be the one avoiding love, for him to be the one that went through a depression and grief arc, for him to be the one that is shown to not be okay even when there's no supernatural fuckshit going on, for him to be the one isolating himself from his loved ones, and so on and so forth cutting this post short now even tho i could 100% go on and keep rattling off the Actually depressing shit tht you guys keep stealing from other characters on this show and trying to pin on him. but anyway ....

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER TWO: WHERE I END YOU BEGIN

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✦ summary: in which reader is upset with eddie for kissing chrissy and more about reader's relationship with billy is revealed. (wc: 5.2k+)

✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, pining and slowburn, arguments!!!, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and smoking , eddie is a bit mean, toxic billy!! he's emotionally ab*sive, kinda car accident? but not rlly

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

series masterlist | series playlist

You were sure your entire world had shattered around you. If only you were as cool and collected as you painted yourself out to be, maybe you could get over it. 

Maybe you could get over the fact that Eddie was locking lips with fucking Chrissy. 

You could feel your eyes water, you don’t even know what you mumbled to the two of them before you disappeared off to the backyard.

Nancy, Max and Dustin were too busy in the kitchen to notice anything, but Jonathan had witnessed it all, he wasn’t too far behind you. 

Your hands were clammy as they dug into the back pocket of your jeans, shaking from the anger radiating off your body. It didn’t help when the lighter in your hands caught your attention.

That stupid pink dragon lighter.

The one Eddie specifically painted hot pink right after you told him to do so. And before you knew it, the seething rage consumed you, blood boiling as you threw the lighter in the ground, along with the cigarette on your hand, squishing it with your shoe until it broke apart, tobacco spilling out from the crevices, “Shitshitshit—” you cursed as you stared at the mess you made on the ground.

“Uh-uhm…” Jonathan spoke up, approaching you with caution when you turned around to face him. You slightly huffed as you took another cigarette from your pack, putting it between your lips before Jonathan started speaking.

“You okay?” He asked, the cold look you gave him with the cigarette sitting on your lips was enough for him to throw his hands up in defeat, “Here,” He offered when he reached for his back pocket, offering you a lighter. Murmuring a quick ‘Thank you’ you took it without hesitation, the flame briefly illuminating your face as you lit the cigarette. You knew you were being a bit of a bitch, but you were spiraling, mind fizzling with the thoughts of her all over him. 

“I-I’m fine.” You struggled to get that sentence out, tone betraying you and your eyes were looking anywhere but at Jonathan. You took a deep breath, mind filled with everything that transpired in the last hour, and he eyed you with pity.

“’M sorry, Jon,” You muttered, “I know this is your big weekend and I’m already bringing it down with my stupid drama.” He was quick to shake his head, “Don’t be ridiculous,” He reassured you.

“We’re both really glad you’re here, okay? I know Nance could never get through this weekend without you.” He gave you a slight pat on your back, comforting you further. 

“But what the hell is she even doing here?” You asked, eyes trained toward the sliding door that had the view of Chrissy still giggling at Eddie.

Jonathan swallowed, physically,  “Shit...” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, knowing he was treading on thin ice. “Look, before I tell you this, I should let you know that I don’t think Eddie has any idea of all the shit she said to you during our senior year.” He breathed. 

“So don’t go all you on him yet, yea?” You shrugged, face still sour, you couldn’t promise him anything. It didn’t matter if Eddie didn’t know the whole story; he still knew some of the things she did, and it infuriated you that he still dared to have whatever the fuck they had. Your logic went out the window the second you saw the two of them together; it didn’t matter what Eddie actually knew because it fucking hurt. It hurt to see him be so cold toward you and then snuggle up to Chrissy. 

“You know that gig Eddie’s band had last week?” You nodded curtly, Eddie told you about the gig approximately ten minutes before locking lips with that little traitor.

"Well... Chrissy was at the gig," Jonathan admitted, a heavy sigh escaping him as he braced himself for your reaction. "And they met there, and they've been kinda hanging out since then..." You had never seen Jonathan this nervous, maybe it was the way your gaze turned so icy and intense, or the way your jaw clenched, or your unhinged behavior for the last five minutes.

“Real cute,” You murmured, chuckling dryly, you took another drag from the cigarette sitting between your index fingers as if it were a lifeline.

Jonathan rubbed his forehead stressfully, “Just talk to him…” Your head snapped at him. “I don’t want to,” You replied childishly, earning a scoff from him. 

“Well, I think you’re gonna have to,” He said with a slight snort, causing your attention to divert to where his gaze fell, Eddie was eyeing the two of you as he opened the sliding door, making his way over to you. 

“Fuck off,” You muttered.

“Be nice,” Jonathan warned, brows raising as he brushed past you. He greeted Eddie with a slight pat on the back before he rushed inside, leaving the two of you alone. 

Your eyes rolled unintentionally when Eddie approached your side. You wanted to tell him to fuck off and go find his girlfriend, but you decided to save your petty remarks for later. 

“Got a lighter?” He asked, voice muffled by the cigarette sitting between his lips. You nodded without looking in his direction and pointed toward the ground where you had previously chucked the lighter in a fit. 

Eddie chuckled before he reached down to grab it, freezing the moment he did so. 

Shit shit shit shit.

Was that?

You actually kept it?

"Uh..." he stammered, still caught off guard by the sight of the lighter. "Pink dragon, huh?"

“Hmm?” You hummed, head popping up in his direction to see Eddie holding your lighter, the one he made for you. 

“Oh…yeah.” You replied awkwardly, still unable to meet his gaze fully. 

With the flick of his thumb, Eddie lit his cigarette before handing the lighter back over to you. "You—uh... dropped this," he said, a hopeful smile on his face.

You accepted the lighter but promptly chucked it from his hands with an annoyed 'Thanks,' not in the mood for his nice gesture.

“You were right… Pink dragons are cool.” He tried to gain your attention, but you just hummed again.

“Jesus…” He sighed. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked cluelessly.

Was he joking? Or was he just trying to get back at you?

You chuckled dryly. “No… no… You just kissed my sworn enemy, is all.” You narrowed your eyes childishly.

“Sworn enemy?” He quirked a brow. “What are you, five?”

“Yeah.” 

“She tried to hook up with your boyfriend five years ago, Pinky… Are you really holding a grudge for some shitty mistake she made when she was a teenager?”

Oh.

Jonathan was right; he thought this was just about Billy. So he didn’t know a fucking thing. But that excuse wasn’t enough to quell the seething rage fueling inside of you. 

“You don’t know what you are talking about—” 

“If you’re still holding onto things that happened five years ago, then what about me?” He threw his hands up angrily, interrupting you. 

Jesus fucking Christ. It boggled your mind how quickly your conversations went from calm to angry now, and it made you realize how bitter both of you have become. How unrecognizable he was to you now because you had made him this way. It was all your fucking fault, and those anxious voices in your head echoed the same sentiment, making you feel smaller with each passing moment. 

“What should I fuckin’ do?” He spat.

You weren’t emotionally or physically ready to delve into this now, especially not after seeing him kiss Chrissy. You did want to talk to him eventually, but not like this; there had to be a way to talk about you leaving him without reopening your own wounds. You couldn’t handle that.  

“Should I tear you a new one for leaving me all alone in LA?” 

“Don’t…” You warned, eyes getting glossy just at the mention.

“Don’t what? Tell the fuckin’ truth." He shot back, frustration and resentment coursing through his words.

“Why do I have to protect your feelings when you were so fucking careless about mine?” He was supposed to sound angry, but you could hear the emotion in his tone, his voice slightly cracking as you avoided his gaze.

“You don’t have any fucking idea what you’re talking about, Eddie—” You yelled back.

Eddie wasn't willing to let it go, “Then tell me!” He demanded, a note of desperation in his voice.

“I didn’t come here to do this! To talk about… Jesus.” You sighed, fingers rubbing your temples to relieve the headache this day was giving you.

"Look, Eddie," you began, your tone softening slightly, "I'm here for Nancy and Jonathan, and them only. I know that's why you're here too. I don't want to cause them any more drama than I already have, okay?" Your voice was calm, but the frustration still simmered beneath the surface.

“You—you’re so frustrating.” Eddie breathed.

“You do realize that the whole fucking world doesn’t revolve around you, right?” He added.

With a heavy sigh, you gathered your belongings and stood up abruptly. “Fine!” You exclaimed.

“I’ll be the mature one.” You heaved a sigh, leaving without turning to look back at him, mind tuning out whatever he was saying to you.

When you returned back inside, you could feel Max and Nancy’s curious gaze on you, and you could practically feel Jonathan's stolen glances as he conversed with the rest of Eddie's band and Chrissy.

Her obnoxious laugh was grating on your last nerve; you were being bitter and jealous, and it certainly was not a good look on you. You bit the inside of your cheek when you threw her a glance, the metallic taste of blood flooding your senses, and before you knew it, her annoying cackle came to an abrupt halt as she sensed your gaze, swallowing physically before she followed you. 

Your eyes involuntarily rolled when you felt Chrissy's fingers gently tapping your shoulder. Slowly, you turned to face her. "Hey," she murmured, her eyes avoiding yours as if she couldn't bear to meet your gaze.

“Hey,” You bit back on your tongue; if you didn’t, you’d say a whole lot of things you were sure you’d regret.

“Can—can we talk? In private?” Her eyes met yours now; you could see the emotions they held, but you couldn’t care now.

Why did you always have to care about how other people felt? They’d hurt you just fine; why couldn’t you even do one ounce of the same thing to them? Why was it always you who had to embrace the pain and guilt, while everyone else was absolved of them?

“I—I can’t,” You didn’t mean to stutter, but it was so hard to lie when she was this close to your face that you hurried off to Nancy and Max’s side without another word. 

“You okay?” Nancy asked in a concerned tone. 

“I’m fine!” You waved her off, the crack in your voice and your glossy eyes were enough proof of that being a lie, but they left it alone, nodding understandingly as Nancy gave you a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. 

“I—I think I just need to go home and rest for a bit… That okay with you?” The gentleness of your voice was aching both of them; it had barely been a few hours since you got to Hawkins, and all you had was that pout on your face. 

“Of course!” Nancy replied without hesitation. 

“You need a ride?” You asked, turning to Max.

She shook her head quickly. “I’ve got a car.” She pointed toward the Camaro sitting in the garage. You clearly missed it for some reason. 

“Oh.” You accidentally blurted out, that Camaro was just nightmare fuel for you now, and you wished you had never seen it again. “Right—uh… I forgot you have a license now.” You added with a silly smile stuck to your lips, wanting to change the topic.

“Do you need anything else?” You asked, your tone shifting back to one of genuine care as you turned to face Nancy. She shook her head, a warm smile gracing her lips.

“You sure?” You raised your brows.

“Stop worrying about me!” Nancy playfully exclaimed.

“I’m fine, I swear I’m fine. Mom’s calling me every few minutes to make sure everything is perfect, trust me, she’s taking care of everything.” You nod silently, a smile almost gracing your lips, when she chides you, god, you had missed this small idiotic town. 

“Pinky, when I made you my maid of honor... I didn’t do it because I wanted you to handle the wedding plans. I honestly would actually rather you stay out of it, you’re pretty bad at planning.” You let out a slight dramatic gasp at her words, causing her to huff. 

“Let me get to my point!” She gave you a knowing look. 

“I did it because you are the closest person to me, because I don’t want someone who’s good at planning with me at the wedding, I can do that myself. I want my person by my side. I want you. You’re my family… like a half-Wheeler.” You chuckle, accepting the reassuring grip she has on your hand. 

You give her a nod, silently returning the things she said to you, thanking her and telling her you love her, and she understands, accepts it, and translates your emotions without you opening your mouth. 

“So, I’m assuming you don’t need anything?” You asked with a sheepish smile, causing Nancy to narrow her eyes. 

“Just go!” She orders. “Okay, okay!” 

“I’m going.” You huffed, not realizing Chrissy was behind you again. 

“Can we please just talk?” She was begging at this point, but the last thing you wanted to do was be in close proximity to her. You sighed deeply, your patience running thin. “I have to go, Chrissy.”

“Wait—just five minutes, please,” Chrissy breathed, the desperation in her voice making you huff and turn around to face her. Your mouth slightly opened as if you were about to cuss her out, and if you didn’t shut it tight, something about Eddie was going to slip out.

But right then, of course, Eddie fucking Munson stepped into the picture, slinging an arm over Chrissy’s shoulder before throwing you a daggering look.

You couldn’t tell if Eddie was doing this to piss you off or that he had genuinely started caring about Chrissy in what? A fucking week?

Your guilt against him was turning into rage, and you didn’t know how to handle it. Each of your hands itched to separate them, make sure he didn’t touch her, and make sure they stayed the fuck away from each other.

But this was about Nancy and Jonathan; you weren’t going to cause a scene, and you were going to play nice, at least until you couldn’t handle it.

“I think you’re fine,” You said bitterly, trying to ignore the jealousy burning your insides, and your insecurities were quick to seep into your skin, making you feel worthless.

“No… wait,” Chrissy called out, but you didn’t give them another look.

“See you at Steve’s tomorrow,” You muttered to Nancy as you passed by her, your tears were burning at this point; if you didn’t go home soon, you were going to explode.

As soon as you ran to your car, of course only one thing had your attention. 

The Camaro. 

FIVE YEARS AGO.

The sound coming from the engine was loud—so loud that over Billy’s screams, you could hear it roaring, terrifying you further. Max was in the back, holding on for dear life, when you were gripping your seat, attempting to stay calm to avoid scaring her further. Billy’s screams filled the silence of the car, and his thumbs tapped along to the song ‘Wango Tango’ as he hummed to it. He had been angry ever since the two of you had a fight during lunch break. 

You thought he would’ve calmed down by now, but the way he was driving told you otherwise. You wanted to scream, yell, and tell him to slow down, but no words dared to come out of your mouth when the speed of the car was still rising. Your grip on the car seat was so tight that you could feel your nails painfully digging through it. You always seemed to freeze when Billy got angry, feeling helpless, as did Max.

“Would you look at that?” He hummed excitedly, pointing towards a van, and your head was quick to cock in the direction he pointed, eyes squinting before you realized who the car belonged to.

You could recognize that set of curly hair and that messy van from anywhere, and your eyes widened. Eddie was standing two cars ahead of you. “Billy…” You called out his name as Max’s head popped up at your shaky voice. Realizing what was going to happen, you stood frozen.

“Isn’t that the freak of Hawkins, huh?” Billy smirked, nudging your shoulder. Your eyes were focused on the road, and as Billy was pushing the gas with all the force he had, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You always hang out with that asshole at school, yea? Let’s see if he wants to see you after too, huh?” He smirked, with a harsh steer of the wheel, he passed the car in front of him, shaking the three of you. 

Your nails dug further into your seat. “Billy, this is not funny.” You screeched while Billy gave you another chuckle, almost as if he was enjoying it.

“Billy.” You spoke up again to get his attention, but he just faked a pout at your terrified face as he kept tapping his fingers to the rhythm of Wango Tango.

“Stop it, Billy!” You yelled this time; your heart was pounding in your ears, and your hands were shaking with fear as you attempted to gain his attention.

The loud noises Billy provided and the roaring engine of the car caused Max to sink into her seat, covering her ears in an attempt to drown out all the voices. 

That sight of her alone made your blood boil. You turned to Billy with a roll of your eyes. “Will you stop?” You asked, eyes fiery, but your voice remained calm; you were still afraid of aggravating him further. 

“Stop what, baby?” Billy said in a mocking tone, his feet further digging into the gas as the speed of the car rose again. He gave you another playful smirk. 

Your eyes squinted in fury; the anger bubbling inside of you was getting harder to ignore, and with just one car ahead you knew he was getting closer to Eddie. 

“Stop it,” you said with a stern voice this time, fingers still shakily holding onto your seat. But he ignored you once again.

“Billy fucking stop it.” You warned with your raised voice, heartbeat picking up when he steered the wheel harshly to pass the other car standing between him and Eddie. 

This was like some fucked up dick measuring contest to him; he didn’t even fucking care that Max was in the car, possibly having a panic attack in the back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your clammy hands pounded against his shoulders in an attempt to get his attention, but he was still mocking you, singing along to the song loudly.

All of it made a buzzing sound to Max; she was used to this by now, from her parents and from the two of you. So she shut all of it off, covering her ears, watching almost in slow motion as you kept on hitting Billy, pleading with him to stop.

He was getting closer and closer, and you nervously bit your lips, legs bouncing up and down since you knew Eddie probably had no fucking idea because of how careless he was when he drove with that metal music blasting through his speakers. 

“I told you to fucking stop!” You screeched again, face feeling hot as you repeated it like a mantra. Your whole body tensed as you looked back on the road and saw how close he had gotten to Eddie’s car. He was probably still oblivious, and anxiety gnawed at your insides. You needed to do something, and you needed to do it now.

Your head turned to the side of the road, gaze stuck on how it was mainly grass. Maybe if you could turn the car off the road...

You looked back at Max to make sure she had her seatbelt on and was safe in her seat. You didn’t care if your idea was stupid or careless; your logic went out the window the second you saw how willing Billy was to hurt Eddie in any fucking way. 

With a deep breath, you quickly grabbed a hold of the wheel. With no other idea in mind, you forcefully turned it off the road, shaking the three of you in an instant. Your head hit the back of your seat, but you didn’t care. Eddie was safe.

Billy cursed you out and stepped on the pedal with force. The impact was hard on you, but again, you didn’t care; he couldn’t possibly hurt Eddie now.

Billy’s stupid song on the radio was all that filled the car now, and all you could do was groan. Your head was pounding when you tried to face Max, she was curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf, and that sight alone was enough for the fear jolting through your entire body to turn into rage.

What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

Feeling suffocated, you quickly opened the door. With a quick struggle, you managed to get out, inhaling a deep breath as the fresh air around you provided you with a little sense of comfort.

But it didn’t matter. You were out of his car, and Eddie was safe.

You dropped your hands to your knees, breathing raggedly as you attempted to calm yourself, ignoring the sound of Billy exiting the car and slamming the door shut rather loudly, cursing you out.  

Your head perked up in anger, and your eyes were livid as you rushed to his side. He was still in shock when you pushed him by his shoulders harshly. Your tears were now escaping freely when the realization of what happened hit you.

“What is wrong with you?” Your voice was loud, and you were a babbling mess with how much you were sobbing. Billy stood still while he hollowed his cheeks in anger, waiting for your tantrum to be over.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You repeated, and your hands were quick to pound against his chest again, but before you could make any contact, he grabbed both of your wrists in an instant, causing you to look up at him with glossy eyes.

“Me?” Billy asked, chuckling ironically. “You drove the fucking car out of the road! And you’re fucking asking me what is wrong?” He let go of your wrists harshly as he rubbed his hands against his cheek. A humorless smile played on his lips as he let out a short chuckle that burned with anger and resentment.

“Are you insane, Billy?” You asked; you were still yelling, but now your tone was more composed, and your tears were drying out. “Are you fucking crazy?” You asked, not expecting an answer.

“You were going to get us killed! You… you were going to get him killed!” Your muscles tensed.

He laughed sarcastically, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s about him, isn’t it?” He pinched his brows together, taking a step closer toward you. “You got mad because it was that asshole Munson kid, wasn’t it?” His jaw was clenched, but this time it felt like his anger had turned to hurt.

“Oh, my god.” You chuckled ironically, your hands hitting your forehead in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, are you fucking kidding me, Billy?” You asked, genuinely this time.

“Billy, you could have hurt us! You could have hurt Max! You scared the shit out of her!” You yelled, and Max’s head perked up.

“This isn’t about Eddie, Billy. This is about you acting like a fucking maniac!” You were shaking with anger.

His voice, once filled with anger, softened into a gentle tone as he realized the impact he had on you.

You were afraid of him.

And a wave of guilt washed over him, the familiar wobble of your lips reminding him of his mom, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming him completely and leaving him feeling small and ashamed. “Are you okay?” His anger had disappeared on a whim now.

Your eyes were fixated on the ground now, lips pursed as you were unable to give him an answer. Billy heaved a sigh, ignoring all of what you had said. “Let’s just… let’s get going.” He murmured; his anger was now washed away with sadness, something you rarely saw Billy in. The realization that you were afraid of him tore at his conscience and ate away at him.

He attempted to softly grab your arm, but you withheld, “No! I’m not getting in that car with you.” You yelled, face souring.

“Baby, just... please.” His voice was soft, it was boggling how fast he could go from scaring the shit out of you to being soft all over again.

The nickname further angered you; he didn’t get to use it to soften you after what he did. “No, Billy, you almost fucking hurt us!” You exclaimed.

You breathed before you continued your rant, “I’m done trying to help you, trying to help you do better, because you’re a selfish fuck who does whatever he wants!” You screeched. “You don’t even care who you hurt in the process, Billy! Look at Max, fucking look at her!” You were screaming the last words, and your sobs had returned, Billy was stunned in front of you.

He took a step back, his eyes filled with regret, and he reached out to gently hold your trembling hands, but you flinched.

He swallowed hard; the weight of his guilt threatened to crush him. He finally saw that familiar mix of fear and vulnerability in your eyes, you always looked at him like that after an argument. 

He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid any tears, and to escape the guilt, he couldn’t cry—no, not in front of you. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Billy.” You spat out while Max was still watching from afar.

“I’m… sorry.” Billy let out weakly and you scoffed at him, knowing that sorry would not fix anything that he just did, you turned your back around to start walking away from him. “Please… just come with me, I can’t leave you here.” He pleaded desperately; you had never heard him like this before, and you were doing everything in your willpower to not turn around.

“I’ll… Fuck—I’ll drive slow, okay?” His voice rang in your ears, but you didn’t care; you were going to keep walking away from him and his anger.

At least that was your plan, until Max finally opened her car door.

“Please, just come with us…” She murmured, her tone so meek and afraid that you couldn’t bear to say no to her. 

You didn’t want to leave her alone with Billy. You heaved a sigh of breath, her second ‘Please’ stopping you dead in your tracks before you turned around to meet her fearful eyes. 

You looked back at Billy with a spiteful look, almost to let him know that this was only for her, then you walked back to the car.

The ride home was filled with a dreadful silence, Billy stole a few glances at you to make sure you were okay, your eyes remained on the road, and Max fiddled with her fingers as she pretended to listen to her Walkman.

When he dropped you off that day, you were sure that was the last time you were going to be with Billy.

But as usual, your promises to yourself meant nothing; you couldn’t help but soften immediately when Billy held you as you sobbed in his arms, his fingertips gently caressing your face as he kissed away your sadness, tasting your salty tears on his tongue.

It was always messy. But everything with him was messy. His calloused hands wrapped around your frame tightly, but still, his kisses were gentle.

The fights always ended with you in his arms, bodies wrapped around each other, as he murmured compliments in your ear, affirming how much he loved you and how afraid he was of losing you.

This was the Billy that only you get to see, and it was different compared to the Billy he portrayed himself to be in public; he was still filled with anger, and he was still an asshole, but he always knew what to say to get you hooked on him, and he treated you with kid gloves whenever he noticed how he had fully broken you.

It was a cycle at this point, each time getting worse as Billy’s anger got more uncontrollable. He would get mad at you, it would turn into a full blown argument, and you would be a sobbing, blabbering mess. When he realized how much he had fucked up, he would finally soften, trying to mend what he had ruined. It was a cycle you didn’t dare get out of, suffocating you further.

NOW.

 He would always talk about how afraid he was that he would turn into his father. What a fucking joke, you thought to yourself, wanting to laugh at the irony of that asshole. That haunting memory replayed in your head like some kind of a never-ending nightmare. Your mind was playing tricks on you, and you couldn’t help it. By the time you got home, the only thing you could do was plop yourself on your bed.

Tears streaming down your cheeks weren’t any of your concern; the dusty and mess filled house should’ve been, but all you could do was lay down and let it all out. 

You fell asleep like that, laying in a fetal position, sobbing until your tears dried out. And that’s the last thing you remembered before you heard a faint thud. 

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Your head snapped up quickly at the sound, groaning as you curiously headed to the source of the annoying tapping noise.

Something—or rather, someone was tapping something against your window and you were going to give them a piece of your fucking mind—

You approached the window furiously, almost yanking the sheer curtains as you saw that curly head, and you knew instantly. 

Eddie?

You opened the window with a roll of your eyes. “Are you insane?!?” You yelled, getting his attention before he threw another rock.

“Thank fucking god! I thought you were dead!” He yelled back, huffing as your face appeared in the window.

“What?” 

“I called your landline like a thousand times!” He breathed; He was wearing one of his own band tees, a guitar pick was adorning his neck, and his curls were more defined now. And you hated how the first thing you thought was how good he looked.

“I haven’t been here in five years, you doofus! I don’t think it even works.” You shook your head, and even though the two of you were supposed to be mad at each other, you couldn’t help it when your lips etched into a smile.

You ruffled your hands through your hair, he threw the pebbles he had in his hand to the ground, dusting them off before he turned his attention to you. “C’mon, let’s go.” His voice lowered this time, eyes hopeful and so beautifully brown that you wanted to drown in their warmth.

“What?” You asked, a baffled look overtaking your features.

“I want to take you somewhere.” He shrugged, head hanging high to keep your gaze.

You sighed. “Eddie, what are you–”

He groaned. “Just get in.” He almost sounded demanding, and your brows pinched together before he muttered out a “Please.”

He could hear your grunts before you closed the window, cursing him out as you hurried off for a change of clothes.

You didn’t know what the fuck the two of you were going to do, but it didn’t matter.

Eddie wanted to take you somewhere, and now you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered. Because it meant something, it meant that this could be fixed. That there was still some hope. 

[15-lizards]

What are your thoughts on Northern fashion? You mentioned in an early post that it would be different depending on the location, can you elaborate on that? I also feel like the style changed soon after Catelyn married Ned, since she would bring styles from the Riverlands and Winterfell is the King's Landing of the North when it comes to fashion

Let’s goooo 🏃🏻‍♀️

Starting in the Neck, they would definitely be more like the riverlanders in terms of clothing. It’s a fairly similar wet and muggy climate. Everything is mostly made of wool and hemp and linen. Thinner clothes for the muggy summers and warmer, thicker ones for when winter comes. Leather/animal skin shoes to keep the mud off. Also whenever I imagine the Crannogmen I imagine cloaks and hoods to stay dry in the swamps. So lots of those.

To the East and a bit father to the north, that costal area around White Harbor is colder than the Neck. So theres a lot more layers, and clothing it way thicker. Also the Manderlys are dripped tf out they got that White Harbor money. Wyman has fur lined EVERYTHING his damask coats could put Cerseis to shame. Wylla and Wynafred pull up to the Sept with lace and silk and jewels eating all the other bitches up. Also since they follow the Faith and are originally southern, this area probably follows more southern customs (fabrics, headpieces, etc)

And we finally make it to winterfell 🤸🏻‍♀️At this point everyone’s freezing their tits off, so fur lined everything. Indoors, I think they can wear lighter stuff bc of those hot springs. Even in the spring months, you can catch Cat wearing at least one shift, underdress, overdress, AND a jacket bc I feel like she never acclimated to the cold. Lots of leather and wool for everyday wear, but when Ned throws a feast or something they get to wear more fur and velvet (even Jon gets to wear a nice velvet surcoat, as a treat). Since the Starks are bordering on ascetic sometimes, there isn’t a ton of ornamentation, but Sansa likes to wear southern-ish styles as much as she can, so you can frequently find her wearing clothes from white harbor (aka I want to see Sansa in a kokoshnik)

And then even farther north we start to see Bolton and Umber territory. The conditions are even more brutal than at Winterfell and they don’t even have hot springs :/ like Sansa and Arya could probably get away with not having to cover their ears during warmer days, but the girls of last hearth and the dreadfort have no warm days. At this point clothing becomes a bit bulky and harder to move around in. Dresses are lined stiffly and almost drag the floor, and everyone is always bundled up to the neck. However materials and fabrics are cohesive and nice atp.

And by the time we nearly reach the wall, conditions are almost unbearable during the winter. Even during spring, all the villagers in the gift are wearing at least four layers (bc I hate hate hate how the show made the people at and around the wall just chill in a thin jacket when they were near a gargantuan frozen block of ice). Clothing is a lot less structured here, resources are getting sparse so most people stitch together a patchwork of whatever furs they can get their hands on. You will rarely see a person without a big hood or thick gloves on. And even though they aren’t wildlings, you can probably see a lot of animal head hoods, bc these people do NOT waste any part of the animal

[alenseress]

"Oh. Hah."

Elias makes his way in without much commotion to it. There's certainly enough space around Jon's somewhat limp body sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the doorway and he makes use of it, eventually stopping to neatly fold his coat. Jon is not entirely sure he finds it in him to be surprised. Or scared. Or, maybe, he just doesn't have enough will of his own left to feel pretty much anything.

"Take the shoes," he clears his throat out, trying to find his voice. "Take the shoes off. Georgie doesn't—"

"I know."

Of course.

"Of course," he blinks first and shuts the door second.

They go by a kind of move-stare-follow protocol while Elias proceeds to make himself at home. Although it's mostly Jon doing the staring, Elias doesn't look at all. He walks across the flat blindly, like his muscles remember the floor and the corners. Jon supposes they might, in some omniscient and messed up way.

"Charming," Elias proclaims dryly at the thin mattress Jon came to inhabit.

"Indeed," Jon echoes.

Seeing the man plop down gracelessly in his thick flannel suit doesn't have the same effect anymore. Jon used to think it was some weird corporate thing, something they'd teach you at a workshop about great leadership. Make yourself approachable. Sit down with them on a dusty curb in the back alley, share a cigarette, address them by their names. Crush a man's scull into a purée in their office. Make them feel. Make yourself human.

"Don't," Elias said softly as Jon takes a breath in.

He reaches out a hand that Jon doesn't take. Instead, he sits at the opposite end of the mattress, feeling a sudden vertigo. Elias drops the hand into his lap, palm up. "You're burning up."

Jon cracks a hysterical laugh, heavily propping himself up. He feels a tug at his chest, a yearning for a solid form beside him, spitting "fuck you" in the viper's face — a sad, childlike desire, to call for Tim like he'd make all the monsters go away in an instant. Jon squints at the hungry void across from him, all alone, he's so alone, and the monster creeps closer. Elias takes his still burning, still bubbling hand in a firm hold and tugs until the void swallows Jon whole. He watches the fall of his own body, wet forehead pressed into the wooly fabric, bones twisted in an unnatural position. Elias jolts involuntary as Jon tumbles into him but sits still for the few excruciating moments Jon needs to collect himself. Mentally, mostly, because to recuperate his body on the ground — mattress, — and push himself up against the wall proves to be easier than walking.

They sit now, shoulders and sides touching, and Jon now can't see the void. He closes his eyes to be sure and pants heavily.

"What are you doing to me?"

"Nothing. You're just dehydrated."

"Sure."

Elias sighs and runs circles over his wrist.

"I might get sick," Jon adds.

"You are."

"No, I mean." He gestures vaguely, shaking off the cold fingers. "I mean puke."

"Mhm."

Jon makes an effort to pull his knees up and double over, curling in on himself. He breathes, fast and panicked, trying to will the nausea away and the cold hand returns to pet steadily at his back. Jon feels a very particular nothing about it being there.

"You..."

Killed. A complete sentence, not even an accusations, because Jon doesn't know how to finish it. Leitner. Gertrude. Sasha. You killed me, he wants to say, even when he's still hurting and breathing.

"Time and place, Jon. There's no use to try right now."

Jon squeezes his head between his knees and wants to wail. He wants to cry more and he wants Elias to be gone. He does get away, truth be told, the mattress shifts and pangs and Jon doesn't know if this twisted delirium of his is ever coming back until Elias carefully unfolds him.

"Don't get the wrong idea," he sounds almost amused as he cradles Jon close, pushing a bottle into his hands and palming greasy hair out of the way.

Jon drinks in gulps that hurt him more than the burning and drops his head onto the bony shoulder in some exhausted kind of surrender. Elias smells like the archives. Cologne and cigarettes, too, but mostly dry rot and dust. Never sweat. Never the must of a human body. Jon feels cold terror bite at his ankles and curls up again, this time pressing himself into Elias' rigid form, nose buried in satin. He doesn't knows gods, not the way his grandmother did, but he imagines this to be the smell of those catholic statues adorn in silks and left to stale for centuries on end.

Feed your god fearlessly and without hesitation, or it will feed on you.

He feels a gentle press to the top of his head. Might be lips or something else, Jon doesn't know, but he laughs coarsely, clinging to the shirt with bloodless fingers. "Don't get the wrong idea."

He doesn't really think there are any wrong ideas left between them.

Elias hums and it echoes all around. Jon speaks again. "Is this real?"

He's not sure if he's doing the thing, but Elias scratches at the base of his skull with repulsive tenderness and answers earnestly. "It is."

"What do you want?"

"At the moment?"

"I... Yes."

"For you to sleep, preferably."

"Why?"

Jon feels his pitying gaze. Like he's a blind rat staggering in a labyrinth under a watchful eye from the above.

"There's a job to be done, Jon."

Jon pushes away with a sigh, not meeting much resistance, and buries himself into the scattered sheets. Maybe this is the kind of acceptance the underground woman felt in the face of death. He never understood it before, not before a kiss touches his temple and slips onto his cheek. He's not sure he wants the touch. He's not sure if he resents it. Papers slide across the floor, a statement he won't read, not now, not in this room. He kind of expects footsteps and shutting of doors now, but instead Elias gives them some distance and seemingly settles for good, prickly eyes creeping up Jon's spine.

"Do you want to hurt Georgie?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Not to you, Jon."

Jon turns his back on the monster in his bed and doesn't find it in him to care if he doesn't wake up.

[cult-of-the-eye]

@itisonlyeyes your henna design has made me think about jmart south Asian wedding and I'm Not Ok

Jon in a beautifully gorgeous deep green, bedazzled kurta/lehenga hybrid so like slightly more masculine kurta with some small, neat embroidery on the edges with a flowy huge lehenga skirt

He didn't go for the dupatta/orna/scarf cause hes still not great with potential restrictions of movement

He's all decked out in the bridal jewellery - my man is wearing the Biggest silver earrings, he's got the massive fake nose piercing that connects to his hair and hes SLAYING. (Maybe his grandma passed them down??)

You bet he's got that brooding bridal look down!! Although he sees Martin and he cannot keep it up for the life of him he's just a smiling mess

There's no loud music. (I know I'm sorry but it's them, the music is simple and meaningful and the guest list is small so its not quite the usual south Asian wedding but they enjoy themselves)

Martin is dressed very smartly in a light blue kurta, with billowing embroidery etching it's down up the kurta's sleeves and following in henna down his hands

He'd wearing light blue nail polish to match and his hair is dyed the same colour at the edges

I like the idea of Jon and martin sitting down and talking about what they wanted and coming up with the rituals not cause of the religious or cultural significance but because of what it meant to them specifically.

Like they do vows cause Martin has always loved that part of weddings and let's be honest, he just wants a chance to say nice things about Jon without him protesting and Jon agrees cause of literally the same reason (they're not good at compliments)

They do the turns around the fire but they hold hands instead of being tied to each other cause they feel like it represents how they chose each other and they do 15 turns cause it's Martin's lucky number (they first met on the 15th October 2015)

They skip the haldi cause sensory issues

They instead get everyone to make their own flower garlands and give them to each other and obviously Jon and Martin make each others flower garlands and Jon mostly agrees to it cause Martin seemed enthusiastic about it and he did want to keep the giving each other flower garland ritual but he gets the Most Excited about it in the end cause hes super detail oriented about his, making sure each flower is specifically positioned how he wants it to and Martin's going off just vibes. They must be the correct vibes but vibes nonetheless.

I love the idea of doing the bride's side has to steal the grooms shoes and the grooms side has to stop this from happening so we can get Shenanigans (Tim is the most intense about this. Gerry comes a close second. Sasha wins though.)

There aren't so much sides, cause everyone's friends with both, which makes the shoe game even more intense cause you never know when people will swap sides.

Gerry does their henna. He just gives off good at drawing vibes I dunno.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for an anon behind the cut; mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees. ( chrono || non-chrono )

But why the fuck is Alfred calling him– 

“Sorry for the wait, Mr. Wayne, your local self thought it might be for the best not to come in-person! You wanted to avoid a fuss. I mean–he wanted to avoid a fuss,” Rita says brightly, looking sheepish, and Kon remembers, very abruptly, everything she’d said about Gotham tabloids and also the fact that she’d “recognized” him after he’d scooped up a traumatized kid who was calling him “Dad” and then, uh–well, flirted with her. And also literally every single story he has ever heard about Clark and Bruce successfully passing for each other, in costume and out. 

Well . . . shit. 

Well, that definitely means the local Bruce Wayne is out Batman-ing his way through the current interdimensional crisis. But also, what the fuck has Kon just gotten them into? Jon seems to just be rolling with it, thank fuck, but there's no way Alfred Pennyworth actually believes he's a version of Bruce Wayne. 

. . . does he? 

No, no, he definitely doesn't. Interdimensional bullshit aside, it’s Alfred. He's just a really good liar and a trained actor with a flawless poker face. Alfred lies better than Tim lies, for fuck's sake, which is goddamn saying something. So Kon might end up a little mortified later when he's admitting he got mistaken for an alternate version of Gotham’s number one airheaded himbo DILF Brucie Wayne by an aid worker, but . . . 

Well. He doesn't even know who he'd be admitting that to, at this point. 

He doesn't know if he'll ever . . . 

“The car is just down the block, sir,” Alfred says, and Kon tells himself he can do this. He always does, doesn’t he? He can handle his own shit and he'll take care of Jon and go meet the local Batman, apparently, and then embarrass himself explaining how this happened to him, and maybe . . . maybe the local Tim will be there. 

It won't be his Tim, but right now he just really wants to see his face, one way or the other. He's not gonna be picky about which “Tim” he's actually seeing. 

“Cool,” he says, trying not to sound too screamingly not-Gotham. He seriously doubts he manages it, though. He’s no good at the voice-mimicking trick Clark does and even if he was, it wouldn’t exactly be subtle to start doing it now. 

He and Jon say goodbye to the kids, who make a lot of very kid-like disappointed noises, and Kon suggests another game for them to distract themselves with–one that won’t require a technical adult running it–and then Rita’s got some paperwork for him and Alfred to both fill out and sign, and a couple other aid workers rubber-stamp them through, and absolutely no one asks to see his ID or even for a second doubts that he’s a version of Bruce Wayne. Except–hopefully–Alfred, anyway. 

Kon seriously cannot tell for fuck either way, the man might as well be a promethium wall. At this point he’s just counting on Alfred’s weird all-knowingness bailing him out here. Worst case scenario is explaining himself, obviously, but if he doesn’t exist here . . . 

Well, “Lex Luthor made me” is probably not a great start, with most Batmans. Especially after going to see said Batman under what is, technically, false pretenses. Like–obviously Alfred wouldn’t have come out in the middle of an interdimensional emergency for Conner Kent; he showed up here expecting a younger version of his boss. 

Probably would’ve come for Jon, he guesses, if only as a favor to the local Clark, since the guy’s presumably distracted figuring out how many dangerous strangers are currently in their reality with the Justice League, but still. 

Then again, for all Kon knows, the local Luthor is dead or irrelevant or a selflessly benevolent saint who feeds orphan puppies on the weekend, so who the fuck knows. 

Kon cannot actually imagine Luthor ever even existing in the same room as a puppy without it knowing well enough to piss on his fancy leather shoes, but look, alternate realities include the word “alternate” in them for a reason. Like, the word “alternate” is very much the operative word there. 

If nothing else, the local puppies might just be stupid. 

Kon’s not really a dog person, personally. Krypto doesn’t count, on account of being an alien and therefore not an actual dog. The first Krypto he knew was an actual dog, though, and they just did not vibe whatsoever.

He and Alfred sign the last couple papers. Kon fakes Bruce Wayne’s signature because he’s spent enough time in Wayne Manor to know the difference between that and his autograph, and thanks fuck that the eidetic memory finally kicked in last year. Seriously, it is such bullshit it took that long for him to get it, considering Clark and Luthor both have one. 

Alfred doesn’t actually react to the signature, but Kon does notice him noticing it. 

Probably what he’s noticing is that it’s not the same signature that his Bruce Wayne used in his early twenties, because there’s no way that hasn’t changed in twenty-odd years. 

Rita smiles at them and sees them all off happily with some reference numbers and exchanged contact information, and they don’t say anything on the way to the car. Kon keeps carrying Jon, which maybe isn’t normal human behavior, especially for someone who’s supposed to be passing for a ditzy socialite who allegedly only has vanity muscles as opposed to actually functional ones, but Kon kind of doesn’t care about that right now. Like, not even slightly does Kon care about that right now. 

Alfred leads them to a shiny black towncar and opens the door for them, and Kon gives him a nod of thanks and bundles Jon into the thing. Jon sniffles once, and kinda of clings to him a little. Kon figures it’s fair. He was never “ten” himself, obviously, but it seems like a rough age to put up with this kind of bullshit during. Like–definitely it does. 

“You’re good, kid,” he swears, less because it’s a promise and more because it’s something he’s gonna make happen, squeezing the kid’s shoulder the way Clark always does when he’s doing the reassuring thing. “I’ve got you. I’m with you. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Jon says, sniffling again and scrubbing an arm across his eyes. “Um. Sorry.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Jonno,” Kon says, and Jon’s face crumples for a moment before he visibly steels himself and nods. Kon squeezes his shoulder again, then gets into his own seat and buckles himself in more out of the habit of trying to pass for human while in civvies than to actually, like, need to be buckled in. TTK kind of cancels out the risk of getting tossed around a car in an accident, and he’s invulnerable on top of that, plus the super-speed, so . . . yeah. Definitely car accidents are not a concern. 

He really wants to help this kid. He wants to at least get him to the local Clark, if nothing else. Like–if they all get stuck here, or there’s nowhere else for them to go . . . 

Well, it’d take a pretty different Clark than the one he’s used to not to want to take in any version of Jon, so as long as this reality actually has a Clark . . . 

Well, Kon’s probably not gonna be watching the kid long, in that case.

[daisyblog]

Jonny's Place

Harry's House Masterlist Summary: Harry realises he likes YN more than just a friend.

Harry had always known he’s loved YN. They’d grown up together since they were babies as their Mums were best friends. Following in their Mums footsteps, they become best friends too. Each night after school they would be in either one’s house, or as they got a tad bit older they would head out to the greenery situated behind their houses. 

It wasn’t until YN came to live at their house when her Mum passed in an accident, and her father and step-mum decided to leave her without a home that Harry realised his love for YN was more than platonic.

He remembers comparing the feelings he felt for YN and how he felt for his other girl friends, Jenny and Fern. Sure, he liked them and enjoyed hanging out with them but he didn’t feel like he wanted to impress them or he didn’t feel jealous at the thought of them being with another boy. But when he thought about YN being someone else’s, he felt anxious. 

He began to feel nervous around her, stuttering when he tried to speak. His tummy would flutter when he would hear her laugh or smile at him. He couldn’t help but notice the little changes in her appearance as they grew older. He’d catch himself staring at her a little too long and Jonny raising his eyebrows at him in a questioning way, but Harry would shyly look away when he’d get caught.

Harry hadn’t admitted his feelings to anyone, until Jonny began to question him one evening after football. It was just the two of them left after the session and Jonny had caught Harry staring or acting shy around YN for a while. 

Jonny was in the middle of tying his shoe lace as Harry was putting his things into his bag. “So what’s up with you and YN?”.

Harry kept his focus on placing his stuff into the bag to avoid looking in Jonny’s direction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

A scoff left Jonny‘a lip and a small chuckle. “Oh c’mon mate…you literally stare at her anytime she speaks…or shall I mention your stutter every time you talk to her”.

“I…I…I’m just confused”. Harry admitted his genuine confusion if he still saw YN as a friend or more.

“Confused about what?” Jonny didn’t understand. 

Harry stood up and glanced at his friend. “I think I like her more than just a friend.”.

“And what’s wrong with that?”. Jonny continued to question Harry, not really understanding what the big deal was.

“It’s hard because we live in the same house, it’s not easy to tell her I like her more than a friend.”. Harry was getting frustrated, he just wished the situation was simpler.

“She likes you too.” Jonny stated, almost like it was fact.

Harry’s head shot to look at Jonny. “What do you mean?”.

“YN likes you too…I can tell.”. 

“How are you so sure?”. Harry wanted to believe Jonny, but it was too good to be true.

“Just believe me man…I don’t just notice how you look at her, I see how she looks at you too.”. 

Harry had a slight smirk on his face, he couldn’t believe that maybe YN liked him more than a friend too. 

“You’ve got it bad mate…look at your face.” Jonny teased Harry.

“Oh shut up Jon…I still don’t know how to make a move though.” Harry confessed. He’d thought of everything, but nothing seemed right.

Jonny shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t over think it H…we’ve got film night tomorrow night at mine, she always sits next to you so just be casual and make your move then.”.

Maybe Jonny was right, perhaps he needed to stop putting the pressure on himself. 

---

It was Saturday which means Harry and YN were working in the bakery this morning. They both enjoyed it, it means they could still spend time together, earn money and get to joke around with the women who worked there. 

After they finished their shift at the bakery, Harry and YN walked home. Anne made them both some lunch which they both ate and chatted about school with her. 

“So where are you both going tonight?”. Anne asked Harry and YN as they finished eating their lunch, knowing that every Saturday they went to a friends house or Anne’s.

“We’re going to Jonny’s tonight for a film night.”. Harry told him mum. 

“Be careful..and if you need me to pick you both up just let me know.”. Anne spoke to the two teenagers, before they went off to their rooms to get ready. 

---

Harry and YN walked together over to Jonny’s house. On the way, YN spoke “Um..there’s a girl in my maths class..and she’s friends with this boy…but she thinks she likes him more than a friend…and she doesn’t know what she should do.”. 

Harry couldn’t help but think of the irony of what YN had just explained because that’s the predicament he was in right now. “And what did you say to her?”.

YN shrugged her shoulders as they continued to walk side by side. “I didn’t say anything…what do you think she should do?”.

Harry thought a little before he spoke, knowing he was in the exact same position as this girl. “I suppose it’s hard…because she probably doesn’t want to jeopardise their friendship…but at the same time doesn’t want to regret not telling him how she is feeling.”.

They didn’t finish their conversation as they had arrived at Jonny’s house. The others hadn’t arrived yet, meaning it was just Harry, YN and Jonny. YN excused herself to use the bathroom, leaving Harry and Jonny alone.

“Have you made your move yet?”. Jonny asked Harry, desperate to know if his friends had stopped mopping around.

Harry shook his head. “No but on the way over here…she was talking about this girl in her maths class who likes her friend more than just a friend.”.

Jonny stared at Harry, not believing how naive he was being right now. “She’s talking about herself.”.

Harry frowned his eyebrows. “What?”.

“There is no girl in her maths class who’s told her that…I sit next to YN and she doesn’t speak to anyone else.”. Jonny admitted.

Harry rubbed his hands over his face. “What is going on?”.

“H…YN was talking about herself…she wanted to see what your reaction would be”. 

Before Harry could respond YN came back into the room. “What are you guys talking about?”. YN asked, as she took the seat next to Harry.

“Nothing.” Harry was quick to say, sending Jonny a look.

Soon Noah, Fern and Jenny arrived with bags of snack and drinks ready for their movie night. 

Whilst the boys prepared the snacks and drinks in the kitchen, the girls set up the living room with blankets, pillows and duvets and a few fairy lights around the tv. The boys had chosen an action film to put on, because the girls had chosen a film the last time they had a movie night. 

The group were all laying on the floor, where the duvet, blanket and pillows had been set up. Fern and Jenny were sat together, with Noah and Jonny next to them and Harry and YN the opposite side.

Harry could feel Jonny’s eyes glancing in their direction every so often. But Harry chose to keep his eyes on the scream in front of him. He was aware how close YN was to him, he could feel their arms brushing every now and then.

He felt his phone vibrate against his leg. He thought it may have been been his mum checking on them, something she did every time they were out.

Jonny: Make your move

Harry took a glance at Jonny and shook his head at how risky that would be. But before Harry got chance to put his phone back in his pocket, another message from Jonny came up.

Jonny: Put your arm around her, a friendly cuddle won’t harm😉

Harry knew YN wasn’t a huge fan of physical affection, and that was down to her father for being so cruel to her. But for whatever reason, she never flicked Harry’s hand away if he teased her like she did when Jonny or Noah did it. 

Not wanting to think too much about it, Harry gently placed his arm around the back of where YN was sitting. He thought she may have moved away but what surprised him was when YN moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

Harry smiled to himself, proud that he’d actually managed to make the first step and proud that YN accepted physical affection. Jonny sent him a big thumbs up, he was proud of his friend.

YN stood up from a place a little while later, making heads turn at her sudden movement. “I’m going to get some fresh air a minute.”. Before she headed towards the kitchen and the back door could be heard opening.

“I’m going to check on her.”. Harry announced, wanting to make sure she was okay. The others agreeing, knowing it was best if Harry was the one to go. 

As Harry walked outside into Jonny’s garden, he noticed YN sitting on the garden swing. Approaching her, he asked “Hey…everything alright?”, before sitting down next to her. 

“I lied to you earlier.” YN’s voice was quiet, shame written all over it. She didn’t look at Harry once.

Harry wasn’t sure what YN was referring to. “Lied about what?”.

“There was no girl in my maths class…I was talking about myself.”.

Harry’s heart was picking up some speed at the words. He couldn’t help but remember what Jonny had said to him earlier about YN talking about herself. How did Jonny know so much?

“So you like a boy more than a friend?”. Harry didn’t want to get his hopes up that the boy YN was talking about was him. 

YN nodded as her eyes met Harry’s. “Not just a boy….you.”.

“Can I tell you something?”. Harry’s voice came out quiet, not wanting to spoil the calm atmosphere. When YN nodded, he continued. “I like you more than a friend too.”.

YN’s tense shoulders were now relaxed, a huge weight had been lifted once she realised that Harry had been feeling the same way. “Really?”.

Harry chuckled, “Yes..really…why do you think I was trying to cuddle you in there?”.

YN shrugged her shoulders, still not quite believing this was real. “Thought you may have been cold.”.

“No…it’s because I don’t want us to just be friends anymore.”. Harry confessed.

“Me either.”. YN agreed, mirroring Harry’s smile. 

Taking Jonny’s advice about not thinking too much, Harry leaned in slightly towards YN and to his relief YN followed. Their lips were gentle against each others, Harry carefully brought his hand up to rest on YN’s cheek. 

They both pulled apart and giggled at how silly they had both been this whole time, and if only they had told each other sooner.

---

After that night at Jonny’s place, Harry and YN decided it was best to keep being “friends” when they were at home. Their friends had found out pretty quickly as they were all stood peering around of the kitchen window, instead of watching the film. They had teased them when they returned inside but were also happy for their two friends.

It wasn’t unusual for Harry and YN to go for a walk together, so when the pair had announced they were going up to the bridge behind their house, Anne and Robin thought nothing of it. 

Harry was quick to interwine their hands as they walked up the path towards their favourite spot. They both enjoyed coming up to the river that was surrounded by fields and greenery. 

As they got to the river, they walked across the stones carefully, Harry helping YN across not wanting to let her fall. Harry challenged YN to see how far she could throw the stones into the water. But YN failed miserably, causing them to burst into laughter.

They continued their walk further up into the fields until they stopped to rest their legs by the trees. Catching YN off guard, as she stood against the tree, Harry held her cheeks in his hands and presses his lips to hers. The kiss become passionate, rushed and steamy compared to other kisses they had shared. 

They pulled apart when they heard some voices further down the field. They noticed a group of people walking back towards the path. “C’mon let’s go home.” Harry took YN’s hand and led them both back home. 

It was in that moment that Harry realised that Gemma had spotted them. 

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @harryssattelitestomper @haarrrys @hittiesontour @theekyliepage @itsmytimetoodream @harrys-flower

[bellysoupset]

Part 2 of Leo's birthday - Jonah's turn.

This was a request from🧋anon!

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

Leo was cute when he slept and Jonah was sure this was an objective opinion and not just because he was head over heels in love with the guy. 

He was sprawled on the bed, occupying most of it and snoring softly, shirtless and having already kicked away most of the blankets. Despite the terrible ending of their night, Jon was still counting that as a good birthday. Sure, Leo had puked on Wendy’s shoes and then again on the kitchen sink as soon as they got home, but afterwards he had climbed into bed with Jonah, complaining about a bellyache, and had melted like a golden retriever pup on his lap, dozing off within minutes of getting the belly rub.

That should still count as a good birthday, right?

“Baby,” Jonah crawled on the bed, freshly showered and ready to head in for work, “Leo. Wake up, you’re going to be late for work,” he shook his fiance’s shoulder, “Leo.”

He’d probably end up being late himself at this rate. Leo groaned and swatted his hand away, making Jonah scoff.

“I’m heading to work,” he whispered, brushing Leo’s hair away from his face, “and I’m gonna set your phone’s alarm. Thirty more minutes, then you have to get up.”

“Uhhrgh,” was Leo’s response and Jonah rolled his eyes, doing as he had promised and leaving the bedroom. He had spent too much time in the shower and there wouldn’t be any time to make himself food, but the cupcakes Leo had brought over from work were still in the fridge.

Figuring his boyfriend certainly wouldn’t want them after puking due to too much food last night, Jonah quickly polished off the two cupcakes on his way down to the garage.

As his day progressed, Jonah’s good humor started to tank. Everything felt like too much, his clothes clinging to him, the hospital noise that normally he could drown out without thinking, sounding much louder than usual. 

Around 10 AM, he got a kid wailing down the ER and a distraught mom absolutely chewing the hell out of the paramedic who had just brought him in. Jonah cringed as he realized he’d have to be the one handling this. There were many reasons why he wanted to be a surgeon and one of them was no angry moms hovering about while he tried to do his job. 

He’d take a heart attack any day over a broken leg. 

Mom’s name was Louise and she was not impressed by Jonah’s bedside manner. Her son was named Charlie and he was struggling to keep up, the poor kid’s chin wobbling as he tried valiantly not to cry. 

“Charlie, we’re going to-”

The dam broke and more tears came up. Jonah sighed, resisting the urge to fan himself. It was so warm. He planted a sympathetic hand on the kid’s shoulder, wiping away the tears. It was painful to watch, knowing the boy was only hurting himself more by sobbing like that. 

“You’re okay,” Jonah cooed softly, as the nurse started up an IV, communicating silently with him. There was no way they could wait for oral painkillers to take effect before wheeling the kid to x-ray and that was considering he didn’t make himself sick with all the crying, “it’s just a little poke.”

“Hu-hurttssss,” the little boy continued to cry and Jonah rubbed his back, checking his watch. Five minutes for the morphine to kick in. Louise was patting her foot nervously on the ground, whole body shaking with anxiety. 

“Ma’am, he’s in good hands,” Jonah explained, just to say something. His stomach was starting to slosh uncomfortably, “we’re waiting for the painkillers to kick in and then we’ll go to x-ray, you’re welcome to accompany-”

“Of course I’m going with him, are you crazy?” She scoffed at him, stepping closer and cooing over her son. Jonah resisted the urge to move away, as the kid wiped at his nose grossly on the back of his sleeve and slightly cuddled up to his side. He was getting heavy. 

“There we go,” Jon lowered him against the pillow, “hurting less?”

The boy nodded, his face still all pink and wet with tears, “still hurts.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he grimaced, signing the kid’s record and jolting down his next instructions, “we can’t give you too much medicine, in case we need to do another procedure. As soon as the X-rays are done we’ll give you better meds,” Jonah smoothed the boy’s hair back gently, “we’re going to move your bed now, okay Charlie? Are you feeling alright?”

The kid sucked in a sob, but nodded and Jonah smiled at him, “nurse Marjorie is going to stay with you the whole time,” he gestured to the much older nurse, who was one of his favorite people in the hospital. She had more than 30 years of experience, was trained for surgeries and tough as nails. “Then as soon as you’re released from X-Ray I’m going to see you again, okay?”

“O-Okay…” The kid’s voice broke and Jonah squeezed his hand in a sympathetic manner, before allowing the technicians to wheel him away, his mother not sparing the doctor a second glance. 

As soon as they were out of sight, Jonah allowed his smile to fade. 

While the interaction had been brief — and Louise hadn’t actually shaped up to be a momzilla, just a regular worried mother — it had been long enough for his stomach to go from “a little off” to “full blown nausea”. 

He felt a weird pressure travel up and Jonah quickly excused himself, power walking to the bathrooms, stripping his white coat as he rushed there so he wouldn’t be so recognizable as a doctor. 

The bathroom, given it was near the ER, wasn’t empty. There were five stalls on each side, the middle of the room had a large slab of stone with a mirror and five sinks on each side of the mirror. No urinals, for which Jonah was very glad.

He rushed inside of a stall and brought his coat to his mouth, muffling a loud, thick burp. Even with the fabric in the way, it was still pretty loud and he was sure others had heard it. Whatever, this was a hospital, he tried to reassure himself, as yet another sickening burp rolled up.

Jonah let out a little moan and lowered the coat, head hanging in shame and nausea. He folded the coat over one arm, slightly palming his stomach under his button up shirt. It was warm to the touch and bloated and the small pressure of his hand on it caused another belch to rush up, this one too expected for him to muffle it. 

It hurt his throat, the acidic sludge of his tummy rushing up with the burp, but he swallowed it down last second. Jonah pressed his forehead to the hard white plastic of the stall’s wall and breathed out slowly, he had to get his body in check. At least finish his ER hours. 

Defeated and knowing he wouldn’t puke right at this moment, Jonah walked out of the stall to wash his face.

The next two hours went like a blur. He tried his best to focus on his patients, but was forcefully reminded by his stomach that it was still very upset every other minute. He had grabbed a plastic cup of water and was sipping on it in between patients, pushing down the thick sweet saliva that kept flooding his mouth. 

Finally Claire came to relieve him, so he could go for lunch, and Jonah could’ve cried. Instead of heading down to the cafeteria or to the many restaurants that were around the hospital’s complex, he went to the doctor’s staff to lie down.

There was coming and going in the place, it was a change of shifts after all, and Jonah reached for his phone inside his locker. He grabbed it, then went to the back room where there were two bunker beds in case they needed to sleep.

One of the top ones was already occupied and Jonah put his phone on silent mode, then crawled on a bottom bed, curling up on his side and muffling another sick burp against the thin pillow. 

He wrapped an arm around his stomach, bringing up his knees and squeezing his eyes as the pressure made his belly feel like it was full with boiling liquid. 

There were texts from Leo and Jonah squinted at the screen, lowering the brightness and struggling to understand what his boyfriend was saying. 

Leo: Gonna call in sick at work, still feeling pretty shitty. Don’t think I overdid it yesterday, just ate something off. 

Leo: Good news! You’ll be happy to know the restaurant we went to didn't make me sick. I got food poisoning at the office :) When I get my hands on Sandy she’s done for.

Leo: Apparently they canceled everyone’s schedule, because everyone called in sick. Isn't that lovely? You bet your ass we’re gonna have a lecture on food handling and what not, can’t wait.

Leo: When are you coming home, my tummy hurts and I want cuddles 🥺🥺 JD is sick of me 

Leo: Jon, did you eat the cupcakes in the fridge? Baby, pls text me back.

The string of texts started at 8 AM and ended just around 10 AM, with one missed call accompanying it. Jonah gagged as he realized he had eaten the poisoned stuff as well and he dropped his phone on the mattress, half sitting up on the bed and trying to figure if he was about to spew or not.

He was sweating. Jon undid his tie and opened the top buttons of his shirt, sitting fully up and cradling his stomach. The whole organ was snarling like crazy and he gulped down when the flipping of its contents made him gag, almost bringing up liquid. 

“Fuck,” Jonah whispered, grabbing his phone, coat and tie and slipping out of the bedroom. He needed a bathroom, not a bedroom- His intestines cramped and Jon froze, shuddering at the sensation. He really needed a bathroom.

At least the doctor’s one was much more private. It still had stalls, but only two and the place was empty. Jonah dropped all his items to the ground, suddenly too restless and panicked to mind how gross that was. He wasn’t sure if he was going to shit his pants or puke. 

His stomach let out an upset whine and then a rush of bubbles went south, making up his mind for him. His hands were shaking as they fumbled with his belt and fly and he could feel his tummy rumbling ominously against his touch. 

He sat on the toilet, then wrapped his arms around his middle, gulping down nervously. The lights over his head felt like too much and he was sweating like hell. 

The runs left him so dizzy he was forced to plant a hand on the stall’s wall in order not to fall off the toilet. Jonah didn’t even bother muffling the sick burping fit that followed, his head swimming. 

Once he finally managed to get out of the bathroom, Jonah stared at his reflection angrily. He looked like hell. Sweat had glued down his tight curls to his temples and was beading over his forehead and mustache area, he looked gray, his lips pale… 

He washed his face and hands vigorously, then took a gulp of tap water and breathed through the sensation of it settling in his stomach like a brick. Jonah checked his watch, then groaned out loud, there was no way he’d be able to last the remaining five hours he still had to go. 

Wendy picked up on the third ring, sounding sleepy. She had the night shift today and Jonah felt bad about waking her up, but not so bad he considered not calling. He wanted to go home, his whole body was shaking. 

“Yeah?” she yawned, “Jon?”

“Dee, can you cover for me? I don’t feel well,” he said, straight to the point. Another yawn. 

“Please tell me Leo didn’t have a stomach bug. I can't get the flu again, I’m gonna cry,” Wendy groaned and he heard her moving around.

“No, food poisoning and I-” he turned his head, muffling a sick burp and gagging over the sink when it brought up some thick, extra sweet spit. Jonah took a steady breath, “I think I got it as well.”

“Fantastic,” Wendy deadpanned, “I can go in one hour, can you handle that long?”

He knew she only lived 10 minutes away from the hospital and that the 50 other minutes were probably to tell Vince goodbye, since he’d be driving back to Doverport. Jonah felt mildly annoyed at the fact she’d be making out with her boyfriend while he was dying, but he also knew she was already doing a gigantic favor by coming in five hours before she needed to. 

“Yeah, I can handle one hour,” he sighed, clutching his stomach. 

“Alright, I’ll be there,” she hung up without further ado and Jonah let out a sigh.

The thing was, he could clock out and then stay in the bathroom until Wendy arrived, but then it would mean his chart would show he had left five hours earlier and Jonah needed all the hours he could get. Whenever Wendy covered for him or he covered for her, they never clocked out. 

So instead of being smart and staying in the bathroom, he forced himself to go sit in his office. 

Normally he liked clinic office hours, but not today. Today he didn’t like anything. 

Jonah was sitting there, with his head in his hands and considering the stupidity of his actions given how badly his stomach was churning and how he kept burping — thank god his door was shut —, when there was a knock.

He glanced at his watch. 30 more minutes, couldn’t be Wendy. 

“Come-” just speaking increased his nausea tenfold and Jonah interrupted himself as he gagged, sliding the trashcan that was under his desk closer and–

The door opened, the person on the other side clearly not realizing he hadn’t finished his words. The little boy from before, now in crutches and with his leg on a cast, still looking like he was in pain and ready to cry, his mother right behind him…

“Fuck,” Jonah groaned, when his stomach gave up on him and he had no choice but to dive for the trashcan as a thick wave of vomit came up. He brought it up to his mouth, to shield his face from view, but still he heard over the rushing in his ears as the woman let out a shriek.

Humiliation only heightened his stomach ache and he coughed, bringing up another wave of overly sweet vomit. It tasted just like the chocolate cupcakes, except rotten. Jonah burped mid retch, feeling more than a little woozy and he fell from his chair, grabbing on the desk to keep from going down entirely.

A lot more noise now and then a hand was in the middle of his back, a female voice ushering his distraught patients out. He prayed the next wave of puke would drown him.

No such luck, his tummy squeezed again and Jonah let out a whimper as he was forced to burp and it brought up some more chunks of his poisoned breakfast. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime but was probably just a couple minutes, he stopped feeling like he was about to hurl and was left panting over the trashcan. 

He was shaking like hell and his stomach was cramping, intestines as well. Everything felt sort of fuzzy around the edges.

“Jon?” Wendy’s voice was like a balm to his nerves and he nearly cried. Instead he let out a groan and pulled back from the trashcan, falling vaguely against her. He heard her let out a little huff as he weight rested on her, but her hand was cold and gentle as it came to cup his forehead.

“Killme, Wen,” he groaned, his words sticking together and she let out a sigh, rubbing his arm.

“Are you done?”

“For now,” Jonah nodded. He knew he was far from done, not only because of the food, but because he felt a new type of nausea mix into his belly. Anxiety, panic, “my patients-”

“It’s okay,” Wendy squeezed his arm, “don’t think about that. Claire took them out.”

“Fuck,” he turned his head and blinked, finally getting a hold of his bearings. They were sitting on the ground, practically under his desk. Wendy had her white coat on and she looked incredibly concerned, “you’re not gonna call me an idiot for not sitting in the doctor’s lounge until you arrived?”

Wendy shook her head, “you’re feeling too bad for me to tease you,” she stroked his cheek lightly and Jonah felt a knot in his throat. He nodded in agreement and leaned forward, planting his forehead to her shoulder, a weird position given Wendy was much shorter than he was.

“I wanna die,” he groaned and she rubbed his back.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” she ushered him up, “I’ll get their details and you can send the mom an apology card and some fancy wine. It’s not the end of the world, I promise you.”

“Stewarts-” Jonah started to say, meaning his supervisor, who’d absolutely chew him out for this and Wendy glared at him, pushing him along the hallway.

“You couldn’t have known, it came out of nowhere,” she lied through her teeth, “right? You were feeling fine before.”

Jonah cringed, but nodded, buying in the lie, “yeah, I certainly didn’t feel gross for hours beforehand.”

“Exactly,” Wendy pushed him down the hallway, “I’m gonna drive you home, okay? And you’re gonna be a decent patient and drink loads of water and get your boy to do the same, because I don’t want to see any of you in my hospital later.”“Don’t call Leo my boy, that’s weird,” Jonah groaned, but he was feeling overwhelmingly fond of his best friend. He loved this woman so much.

[nexo-cuffs88]

Northwestern University Part 1

A story for @wishmaster

It's another boring day for you at your office job. You had once attended and graduated from Northwestern University, you had always been the type to focus on studying rather than sports. Why not, everyone has different talents, some are more intelligent and some are more athletic. You were given intelligence and what did it do for you? A boring office job.

While you're working, you overhear a new colleague at the company talking to someone about Northwestern University, your school. He says:

?: "Hey, have you heard that the university is going to be demolished, my father graduated there and he said it was still relatively new when he left and that was over 20 years ago. It was also recently modernized."

You pick it up and think about the time again yourself, it's been 23 years since then, you're now 45 and it seems strange to you too. The university had really been in great shape when you left. You don't know how she had changed in the years after you graduated. You realize that in all your years you have never gone to school and looked at it. You actually didn't notice anything about the renovation work, either.

?: "My father would like to go there one last time in the near future before it is finally torn down, for the sake of old times and all. Unfortunately, he doesn't have much time left for that, the demolition work is supposed to start next month."

This gives you an idea, you could actually visit the university one last time after work this evening. It was an important part of your life and now you can't leave it without a degree.

Your working day is over, it's already late and it's getting dark outside, but you still decide to go to university. You get in your car and drive to university. Once there, the sun has quickly set and the university can hardly be seen anymore. But what you notice is that a huge fence has been built around the site.

There are signs hanging there that say: “No entry allowed. Buildings in danger of collapsing.” You think to yourself that you can’t just ignore the warnings about what if someone catches you. However, you also think about the fact that nothing happening in your life and it could be something exciting. Finally you decide to enter the area. You look around and make sure no one is around. You go to the gate and push it open. The gate isn't locked but you don't care. You walk across the grounds and see the courtyard, the school team's football field and also some of the buildings that used to be classrooms, living rooms and cafeterias. Some memories come flooding back about how much you loved watching sports teams, even if you never had the chance to play. You walk across the area and at some point you see a door to a building with a light on, it seems strange to you since the electricity should actually be turned off. Out of curiosity, you approach and finally open the door. When you did that, you just heard a crack above you and you just saw a piece of wall falling on you. Your eyes go black.

?: "Hey, are you okay?"

You open your eyes and look around frantically. You are in the hallway of a school, you see lockers, students and a person standing in front of you. It's a young handsome wrestler, he stands in front of you in full gear, with his tight singlet, his headhear and wrestling shoes. He holds out his hand to you.

?: "Come on, take it, I want to help you, bro!"

It's not easy for you not to look at the bulge in his singlet, but you do your best and take his hand. He pulls you up. You ask:

Jon: "What happened, where am I?"

He looks at you confused:

?: "You just tripped, you're in Northwestern University. Are you okay? Normally you don't forget your school after you trip."

Jon: "Yes, it's okay, I just need to compose myself for a moment. Why are you wearing that?"

?: "Okay, is everything really okay? Funny that someone like you ask that. I just came from training and didn't have time to change since, I was just helping you, buddy. Good so you don't forget. Hi, I'm Cameron, but everyone calls me Nexo, I'm the captain of the wrestling team, I wanted to recruit you for the team but you did something different. I don't share your decision, but I don't have anything against it either. Whatever it is. I gotta go, a captain should be with his team."

He turns around and leaves, you look at his ass, which is highlighted by his singlet, he looks so hot. But you immediately organize your thoughts again. If you aren't injured, at least a stone fell on you. And Northwestern? Your old school? You're at university even though you were standing at the construction site just a few seconds ago. Are you somehow lost in time or are you in a coma? Questions you can't answer and what did he mean by your decision and "someone like you"? You decide to go to the bathroom first, some water will definitely help you. You go into the bathroom, open the tap and wash your face. You look in the mirror and you're shocked at what you see.

You look into a face you don't know. It is the face of a young man with brown hair and beautiful eyes. You notice that you have headphones on and are wearing jogging clothes. You take your shirt off and now look at a muscular body, you have a muscular chest, great arms and a tattoo on your chest. You also notice your big ass and that you have a boner in your pants, you're not sure if it's from Nexo's ass or the sight of you.

The doorbell rang and you quickly take your shirt again. You look at your phone and want to find out where you have class now. You realize that it's history now. You also realize that it can never be time travel. You didn't have cell phones like this before and it feels too real, diffrent them a coma. But now you don't have time to think about it, you have to go to class. You quickly walk to the room that was on your phone. When you get there, you sit down and a person comes to you.

Alex: "Hey, Jon. I thought you weren't coming today, I didn't find you this morning. What was wrong?"

Jon: "Sorry, I'm off track right now, why am I so important?"

Alex: "Are you kidding? Today is training, we have to be ready for our game."

Jon: "What game?"

Alex: "Really? The football game against the Hawks. Have you forgotten that?"

Jon: "Of course not, sorry."

The bell rings and everyone goes to their places. Alex also leaves, you only see his ass which looks great in his football pants and you feel something moving in your pants again. Apparently the athletes here like to wear their sports uniforms to class.

Jon: *So football? But how can it be? It's all so real and now I'm a young jock doing the sport I've always wanted to do. What happened?*

Class begins and you continue to think about everything. Maybe you'll learn something during training.

Sequel follows...

PS: It's a little longer than expected, the second part is coming soon.

[duchess-of-oldtown]

The thing about Stannis that people often forget that he was only 17 when Robert's Rebellion started. His parents are dead, his older brother who was meant to be in charge and head of the family has practically abandoned him with all the responsibilities of being Lord of Storm's End, being head of the family and raising Renly who was 3 or 4 at this time. He's seventeen and all of a sudden he has to make a choice between what he knows is the "right" thing to do which is staying loyal to the Crown or standing with his brother, who he no doubt loves despite his later declaration in ACOK. He's seventeen and there's an army outside the walls, everybody inside those walls has to rely on him when he knows that they really want Robert, he is in charge when doubtless he wants Robert back. He's the one who is meant to be in charge after all, the one with the experience, he's only 17. He has to watch Renly grow thinner and thinner, likely going without food himself just to give Renly an extra mouthful here and there. He has to see people turn on House Baratheon from inside the castle, probably knowing them all his life. He has to punish them or end up looking weak, he can't afford weakness. Not when there are hundreds depending on him. And Robert. He's depending on him too, afterall. Then comes the news that Rhaegar is dead, King's Landing is Robert's and he's King now. Weeks later, Stannis gets news that the Siege is about to be lifted. Doubtless he looks out over the walls and sees who has come to save him. It's not Robert. It's Ned Stark, who Robert went to war with, who Robert sees as a brother, far more than he's ever treated Stannis. And even then Stark has to run off for another duty, leaving Stannis to deal with Storm's Ends recovery. Then when things are settled, the Baratheons unite. Robert has a task for Stannis rather than a thank you or an apology. Stannis grits his teeth and gets on with it. He fails to capture the last Targaryens. He returns only to hear Robert's grumbles. And when comes time for dealing with succession, Renly- who is only a child - gets Storm's End. Stannis gets Dragonstone, the reminder of his failure not his achievements. It breaks Stannis's trust in Robert. In the following years, Robert becomes more and more of a disappointment. He beds Delena Florent at Stannis's wedding ruining the nuptials which are nothing more to Stannis than a political move no doubt recommended by Jon Arryn. He becomes more lazy, more distant, less and less of somebody to look up. To make matters worse, Renly who Stannis protected, starved for and practically raised, still looks up to Robert, pushing Stannis away. By AGOT, Stannis is isolated by his own House, trapped in a loveless marriage, weighed down by duties he never asked for, responsibilities that he has to shoulder because Robert won't, crushed under the knowledge of the Lannister Twincest and its repercussions and he's just been pushed aside again by Ned Stark, this stranger who Robert idolises so much. Its the last straw so he leaves. Months later, Robert is dead, Renly is at the heart of trouble and the Realm is bleeding again. Stannis declares himself King, not only because Melisandre wraps the shroud of messiah around him or he really feels any sort of higher calling or ambition. He does it because that's what he does, he cleaned up Robert's messes, he steps into Robert's shoes and does his duty. Just has he's been doing since he was just a child.

[stobinesque]

@steddie-week day 3: first kiss | 2.1k words | G or T

Steve and Robin were about halfway through a rewatch of Clue when the phone rang, and Steve was across the living room before it was halfway through its second ring. “What’s wrong?” He asked without preamble. His heart was already racing; too anxious to consider the possibility that it could be someone calling for his parents—or even that it might be a non-emergency call. It was past ten already, and most of The Party should have at least been pretending to sleep by then.

“Steve?” The voice on the other end of the line was a bit distant—drowned out by the staticky sound of rain hitting pavement.

“Eddie? Are you alright? Where are you? Did something happen?”

Eddies’ van was out of commission, so he’d been relying on rides from Steve and the rest of the Corroded Coffin crew to get him to and from places for the past few weeks. If he was out somewhere and in trouble, he was stranded there.

“Yeah—I-I mean, no. Nothing—nothing happened. Just—could you come get me?”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you?”

“I’m out at The Hideout.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in ten—maybe fifteen minutes.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I said I’d be there in ten, Eddie.”

“Okay.” 

Steve hung up the receiver and turned to make for the foyer to find Robin standing behind him—jacket on, back slung over one shoulder, and a pair of his shoes in one hand. “Picking Eddie up?”

“Yeah.” Steve took the shoes from her hands gratefully, and started pulling them on.

“Can you drop me off on the way without slowing yourself down?”

“Yeah, I budgeted Robin home-delivery time just in case.”

“Well, hop to it then, dingus.”

~*~*~*~

When Steve pulled up in front of The Hideout after dropping off a surprisingly acquiescent Robin (Eddie needs you more than I do right now, dingus), it was to find Eddie sitting atop one of the wheel stops of The Hideout’s small lot, looking like a drowned rat. 

Eddie was up and yanking open the door to the beamer before Steve could so much as put it in park, and Steve pulled out of the lot as soon as Eddie had his seat belt buckled across him.

“You okay, mann?”

Eddie shrugged.

“What happened?”

“Don’t really wanna talk about it right now.”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

“Sorry to interrupt movie night with the missus.”

Steve laughed. “She already forgives you. Provided that you were actually having a crisis and not just faking one as a ploy to get me alone with you.”

That startled a laugh out of Eddie in turn, and he turned in his seat to shoot Steve a mischievous grin. “Now, does that sound like something I would do, sweetheart?”

“According to Robin? Yes.”

“Ah, I see who the brains of the operation is, then.”

“Was that in question?”

“Well—whether or not there was a brain behind you and Robin’s whole deal was a little up in the air.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Silence fell between the two of them, and twenty seconds in Eddie started rooting around in Steve’s glove compartment.

“Dude. What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for a tape in here that doesn’t suck, man!”

“What are you talking about? We have, like, half the same taste in music!”

“Yeah, but the only thing you keep in your car are mixtapes! And I’m sorry, Steve, but some of the things the kids have made you are—objectively speaking—extremely cursed.”

“You could put in the one Robin made.”

“It’s hilarious that you think there’s only one Robin mixtape in here. But also: I’m not in the mood for Cyndi Lauper.”

“Cyndi Lauper’s not in the mood for you,” Steve snarked under his breath—more because he knew that’s what Robin would say if she was in the car with them than for any other reason. Raising his voice so that Eddie knew it was meant to be heard, he added, “I think there might be one from Jon in there?”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “Eugh. No thanks. My night’ been shit enough.” He kept rooting around for another minute or two, until— “Aha!” he emerged triumphant, an sparsely labeled tape held aloft in one hand. It looked like one that Steve had made for himself years ago—long before he’d gone knocking on the supernatural’s door. If he was guessing right, it was a mix of Queen, Bowie, and Fleetwood Mac. “How have I never found this one before?” Eddie asked.

“Because in spite of your loud protestations to the contrary, you usually just let whatever music is playing in the car happen to you.”

Eddie gave a considering hum as he stuffed his find into the tape deck. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

The two of them fell silent again as “The Chain” poured from the speakers, and the rest of the ride passed without conversation, the only sounds between them besides the music was the steady beat of rain against the windshield, and Eddie’s fingers drumming along to the beat of the song.

~*~*~*~

Steve killed the engine as he pulled up in front of the Munsons’ trailer. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Eddie said, pulling a strand of hair out to cover his mouth as he did so.

“Yeah—any time, dude.”

Eddie made to get out of the car, but froze in place as he leaned half-in, and half-out. “Could you—wanna come in?” There was a put-upon air of casualness to his tone in a way that made Steve suspect that he was being asked to stay the night. He wasn’t sure why Eddie felt so shy about the request, though—it wasn’t like this would be the first time.

“Oh. Yeah, man. Of course.” All he ever wanted was to be helpful. So Steve took his keys from the ignition, and trailed after Eddie as he led them both inside.

Eddie started peeling out of his soaked clothes before the front door had finished closing behind them, and made a beeline for his bedroom so he could pull on a pair of boxers and a bleach-stained t-shirt, before flopping down onto his bed. Steve followed after him, toeing his shoes off inside the door, and crawling into bed beside Eddie once he was finished changing.

"Wanna talk about it now?" he asked, as Eddie tucked himself up against his side.

Eddie shrugged. He took one of Steve's hands into both of his own and started idly playing with his fingers. "Bad date."

"Oh yeah? People aren't going mad over a metalhead who was only recently cleared of all murder charges?"

Eddie shoved at him. "Low blow, Harrington."

Steve stole his hand back to hold both of them up in surrender. "Sorry, man."

Eddie yanked Steve's hand back and held it covetously in both of his own, and Steve reached down with his own free one to tangle it into Eddie's wild mane of curls, which were still damp from the rain. "Whatever, dude. It wasn't that. He just…he was just kind of an asshole.” Eddie shrugged again, sounding a little resigned. “The regular kind."

Steve was silent, but ruffled his hand through Eddie's hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

"I just…I don't know. I don't know why I even bother trying to go out on dates at this point.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's like…I don't know. Just feels like I'm chasing after something I'm never gonna find."

"I get that," Steve said, tone soft and understanding.

"Really? Figured you'd have people falling all over you."

Steve snorted. "I don't think I've gone on a date since I went to the championship game with Heidi back in March."

Eddie jerked a little in Steve’s grip. "Why not?" He sounded…genuinely very confused.

Steve shrugged. "I don't know, I just…haven’t really felt like it. Honestly, I’d already felt like I was circling the drain back at that point.”

“...Huh.”

They both went quiet, Steve still running one hand through Eddie’s hair, and Eddie still tangled his fingers through those of Steve’s other hand. 

“So, how do you…?” Steve trailed off with a frown, unsure of how or whether he should finish his question.

“How do I…?”

“How do you, y’know, find guys? To go out with? Who you aren’t scared of knocking your lights out, that is.”

Eddie shifted in Steve’s arms to get a better look at him. “Wait, wait. Have you not been on a date with another guy yet, Harrington?”

“No…?”

“Then how did you—?”

“How did I, what?” Steve felt a little on edge; a little on the defensive. Like there was some unseen standard he wasn’t living up to.

“How’d you figure out you were into them, then?” Eddie sounded a little bewildered. A lot incredulous. “Figured you were the victim of a drunken make-out discovery or something.”

Steve laughed, because that did sound like him, but— “Nope. Never been kissed.” He tilted his head toward Eddie with a little smirk. “By a guy, that is.”

Eddie propped himself up on one arm and stared at Steve like he was a puzzle to be solved, and there was a glint in his eye that made the hair along the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. “D’you wanna be?”

Steve’s heart skipped a bit, and his hand stilled in Eddie’s hair. “Uh…what do you mean?”

“Do you wanna be kissed? By a guy?”

Steve laughed, feeling awkward. “Are you offering?”

Eddie shrugged, just a touch too casual. “Sure, why not?”

“I don’t know. Wouldn't it be weird?”

“Doesn’t have to be weird if you don’t make it weird, man.”

Steve turned that over. It’s not like he and Eddie didn’t already spend most of the time they spent alone together tangled up in one another. There was a quasi-romantic edge to their friendship that Steve wasn’t really used to—well. Except for with Robin. But that was different, for obvious reasons. And, granted, the dynamic between him and Tommy had been…intense, but it still hadn’t felt like this. 

Regardless—kissing Eddie wouldn’t change anything about their friendship if they didn’t want it to. “I guess you’re right.”

Eddie half-turned in Steve’s arms. “Yeah?”

Steve repositioned himself so that they were facing each other, hitching one shoulder up in a nonchalant little shrug. “Sure, why not?” he parroted back.

Eddie smiled, and it made his whole face go soft and gentle in a way that had Steve’s stomach twisting up in knots. Oh, he’s beautiful.

Eddie reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear, and then let his hand drift along the line of Steve’s jaw until he was gently gripping his chin between two fingers. Steve’s lips parted in anticipation, and the two of them breathed into the silent space they’d created between them. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and his arms breaking out in goosebumps.

It didn’t make any sense though. It wasn’t like it was his real first kiss. And he’d known he was attracted to men for ages, even if he’d never acted on it. It wasn’t even exactly news to him that he found Eddie attractive. But…none of their interactions had been this charged before.

Eddie closed the space between them, and pressed a gentle, but firm kiss to Steve’s lips, grinding the trajectory of Steve’s thoughts to a halt. It was a simple kiss. And it could have remained like that—soft, sweet, and almost chaste—except that Steve couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp in response, as his breath hitched in his throat. 

He should pull back. He knew he should pull back—but he’d always been greedy, and Eddie was making no move to put any distance between the two of them either. So Steve surged forward, capturing Eddie’s lips into a more passionate kiss, and savoring the small whine it elicited. Eddie gave as good as he got, winding an arm around Steve’s waist, and slotting a thigh between both of Steve’s legs with a force that startled a little “Mmpf!” from him. 

All in all, the kiss probably lasted little more than a few moments. But for all Steve knew, whole civilizations could have risen and fallen in that soft, gray space of time he and Eddie had their lips pressed together. 

He wasn’t sure who finally broke away, but once they did, both of their breaths came short and heavy.

“That was…really good?” Steve said, a high-pitched note of giddiness and wonder in his tone. 

Eddie smiled with cheshire-style grin, eyelids heavy and low. “Yeah? Wanna make it even better?”

Steve smiled right back. “I think I might.”

[hauntedteacups]

“You’re doing well, Jon. I only hope you can continue your growth without my guidance.”

[Image ID: A series of black and white images arranged in a grid as follows:

Two dark figures on a staircase. A dark hallway lined with books. London’s Big Ben on a cloudy night. Hands opening a jewellery box with an eye inside. An eye with “the eye has no conscience” written below it. Hands crading the head of a marble sculpture. Two pairs of feet wearing dress shoes intertwined, one wearing ankle cuffs. A painting of a man staring up at a moth. Three overlaid silhouettes of a man.]

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

I took Damian and Jon to a Chinese buffet on free comic book day after grabbing some comics! (Sidenote, I think I'd love to make tiny comic books for them!)

If you ever see Jon out and about without his shoes it's because I didn't want to sew them onto his pants so he won't lose them and I don't want to lose them by taking them anyway.

[orderforbrian]

Day 3 - Victorian Times/Confession for @jonmartinweek!

late but better than never lol, im not used to drawing so much! i ended up with bad wrist pain and couldn't finish this last night

anyway thought of a gothic horror victorian au - jon is the newly appointed housekeeper for the Magnus estate (succeeding the late gertrude who died under mysterious circumstances, so he's not entirely qualified to be organizing the estate's finances and directing staff but alas here we are). martin is newly hired gardener who tracks mud into the freshly cleaned house on his first day 😬 but when he's not ruining the estate, jon finds him oddly charming - and when he's not getting yelled at, martin finds the housekeeper is far nicer than he's letting on 🤭 cue the loathing at turning into pining from afar, brushing hands, and then touching without gloves on??!! also them on a gender journey together is so important to me

romance aside (lol) it would be kind of a mix of Haunting of Bly Manor meets Dracula meets Crimson Peak in terms of horror - i think it'd be fun to translate TMA into a victorian estate (like how it's kind of creepy that no one has ever met Magnus himself huh 👀)

[Start ID: Three drawings of Jon and Martin from The Magnus Archives in an AU set in Victorian England. Jon is a thin Persian man with thin half moon glasses and grey streaked, curly hair. Martin is a fat mixed Polish/Korean man with wavy hair and a beauty mark under his lip. In the first image, Jon is wearing a white knitted shawl and a long, dark high collar dress. His hair is in a low bun. Martin is wearing a straw sunhat with a tied ribbon, a long white apron, apron sleeves, a pleated dark dress, and laced Victorian gardening boots. Martin is holding dirty gardening gloves in one hand, all of his clothes and especially his boots have dirt on them and there are track marks of dirt behind his boots. Jon is holding a broom and swatting it at Martin's legs, glaring up at him and shouting angrily. Martin appears shocked and is backpedaling fearfully.

In the second image, Martin has choppy shoulder length hair, tied back in a short ponytail and wears a large collared shirt and a vest as well as a short apron and gardening gloves. In a blue rectangle to the left upper corner, Martin is clutching a pocket watch in a dirty garden glove and holding his gardening hat to his chest, staring to the side with a demure blush. To the side is a mini version of Jon, standing, eyes closed, with one hand on his hip, the other hoisting out the pocket watch. He says, "Here! Since it's so difficult for you to be on time...". In a green rectangle to the right bottom corner, Jon wears a high collared shirt with a neck tie tied in a bow as well as a suit jacket, vest, and short gloves. He is holding a couple flowers in one hand and looking to the side with an awkward blush. To the side is a mini version of Martin with his eyes scrunched shut, thrusting out the flowers and saying, "H-here!!". His shoes are muddy.

In the third image, Martin has wet hair tied into a low bun, portions of his hair falling out of place. He's wearing the same outfit as the previous image sans gloves. Jon's bare hand reaches out from off frame and grasps Martin's bare hand. Martin looks at Jon with a blush and confused, flustered (and hopeful?) eyes. End ID.]

[strawberrytalia]

those “putting Damian on a team of superhero kids” concepts are cool in theory, but more often than not, they’re really just ways of shitting on him and making him look feral in comparison to “the nice hero kids” who are then tasked with civilizing him as if that’s not inherently racist. even worse is when he’s paired up in a duo with a white goody two shoes (cough Jon and Colin cough). and doubly worse is when there is no intention at all to give Damian character growth, he’s just used as a tool for shipping (this is 99% of the time).

I only read a bit of Gotham Academy, but I fully do see the appeal in having Damian hang with them, and be proper friends with Maps because that’s like one of the rare times another kid is friends with Damian, and they just accept his weirdness and don’t expect him to get fixed or “civilized” for them. or with Maya, in which there was conflict, a resolution, and growth for both sides and she actually helped Damian develop positively without putting him down.