#((he got his ass beat in a six-on-one fight; got shot; and didn't get either revenge OR money!))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

Emily's kick seemed to really do the trick, as Nicholas let go of Randall's neck and rolled off of him in a daze, while Randall himself coughed and gasped for air, rubbing his sore throat while Nicholas groaned, seeming dazed as he struggled to his feet, legs wobbly as he did. He made a feeble attempt at rushing one of them (given how unfocused his gaze was, it was near-impossible to know who), but in doing so, he earned a punch across the jaw from Elizabeth, causing him to stumble back, swaying on his feet as Randall, having recovered, got to his feet, eyes dark with anger.

In that moment, he remembered. He remembered it all-searing pain across his throat, Emily's terrified screams as his disembodied head gushing blood soared through the air, landing in a lonely hatbox. It filled his stomach with acid, set his blood ablaze, filled him with a righteous anger that made his vision turn red, and his hands ball into fists.

Honestly, he could've killed Nicholas where he stood-he very easily could've made him feel everything he made him and Emily feel, that lifetime ago. But to stoop to his level...that sickened him, and so, as the coup de grace, Randall socked Nicholas clean in the nose, finally knocking the lout out flat on the ground. He lived, only knocked out cold by this finishing punch.

"What should we do with him?" Mrs. Henshaw asked, tempting to give him a kick in the side for good measure, but Beau, as he checked on everyone, replied with a shrug, "I say we leave him here, to be quite honest. By the time he comes around, we'll be long gone, and if he tries to tattle on our little plan, well...who's going to believe him? To the ears of everyone in New Orleans, it'll sound like Mr. Pennyworth was bitter that Dorian upstaged him, upset that he didn't get to have Emily's hand, and is trying to drag him through the mud out of spite, and with an outlandish-sounding story to boot. He'll be ostracized, and I believe, to him, that'll be a fate worse than death."

There was a murmur of agreements at this, as Dorian wrapped a loving arm around Elizabeth's waist, pulling her close to him, while Randall embraced Emily, burying his face in her shoulder, so grateful that she was alright. His eyes were damp with tears as memories filled his mind, good and bad, and he swallowed hard as he closed his eyes.

Thank you, he thought to himself, to no one in particular-perhaps a guardian angel, if they happened to be smiling upon him (which he certainly felt they were). Thank you for this second chance-thank you for our life!

[knowlessman]

bnha ep 10-13 I think. oh yeah, the big boss guy, that's what was up. handface. professor facepalm.

(watching OP) author really said "I am going to make a character that is the most hateable little shit. I'm gonna make sure nothing about either him or his design is likeable. gonna put him in a fucking diaper." -- stg the most mid anime op I have ever seen this many times

League of Villains? not Every Villain Is Lemons?

greninja to the rescue! …did you really have to save him tho? -- see, not having to listen to mineta in english is like, idk, a third of the battle

they want to kill him because he is batman, yes

oh, he didn't even teleport them far, just to random parts of the dome 'XD

the name does stick : ]

stop giving this guy lines, why does he have lines now

'XD it cuts to three of the villains in the water while Deku's talking and you have two normal-ass-looking people and a fucking Cenobite

k thanks for sharing, worst character

oh stop being generous, froppy, you were always the only way anybody was gonna get off that boat and you know it

"episode 11: game over." well that's cheery. also I saw spy kids 3 recently, dang is that not a good movie but it isn't, like, not fun. they say "game over" so many fucking times tho, I did not remember that and was not prepared for it. fun guessing-game at the end tho where characters keep showing up to fight and only the ones that absolutely shouldn't be here get to have shots of them actually fighting. I wanna see danny trejo punch a giant robot goddammit. -- ahem. anyway. anime.

…so, todoroki. cool guy. how is a guy this cool in the same show as mineta, anyway?

'XD who is this silly goof? "audio girl used Aimed Kick! dumbass learned Volt Tackle!" -- jiro and kaminari. got it. also Quiet Metal Gear's quirk doesn't even benefit from her boobs being out, she literally just shat an entire rubber tarp out of her back, which was covered -- momo, right. also creators please just stop writing teenagers and then Doing This Shit, wtf

"when he overuses his quirk, his brain short-circuits" well that's a problem; he didn't look like he had much dumber to get

nooooo, not hat-n'-clogs D:

six-arm guy's secret ability: really good hugs

bakugo's learning to pretend he's got anything other than violence in his head when somebody calls him on it ("I'm gonna beat up that portal guy! not because he stood in front of me, but because if he's gone, the enemy can't escape"), and I guess that's character development?

he fuckin said the spy kids 3 thing. is that gonna be a thing here, too, have I been bamboozled

also yay for emergency exit makin his exit in an emergency, gotta love it

and now the other guy said it. maybe it's just this episode tho, they've said episode titles a few times

-- "'game over?' what are they planning?" to put sylvester stallone in a giant robot, by the sound of it

im sorry how long has this disaster dome had a bouncy castle in it

walk faster dude you're gonna go poof any second

"we got a Continue" maybe facepalm is just all arcade lingo and that's his deal. maybe his villain origin is that he tilted a pinball table too hard

gotta be at least one or two heroes here who do illusions, right? could be all might isn't even here.

walks right past Thirteen "sorry, Aizawa"

Kirishima. got it. the guy who reminds me of a certain danganronpa character whose name I also forget is Kirishima

o_o dang, this one-punch villain reject goes harder than I expected -- oh nvm lol he's just a freaky-looking namekian

"the joker is the good guy actually" -- "he's already figured me out?" elle woods what, like it's hard?

aye, the shonen way. all the chips, right now, they'll either come back later or they won't but that's a problem for a future that won't exist if the present isn't saved. -- I thought he was gonna blast mojo piccolo to bits, but instead he just blasted off again

…oh damn, I got confused and thought this was ep 13. welp. was figuring on finishing the season this sitting, so here goes

every time this opening starts and it shows deku in the school uniform I think I'm looking at yu yu hakusho or mob psycho or something, and I've never even watched those

jiro asking a libertarian with a hostage why he doesn't have a job, like that's a good idea

not missing the fact that we're seeing a villain stimming btw : / -- "these casuals are wrecking me, all might OP, plz nerf!"

"it might be the case that I can't move right now, you warthog-faced buffoon" (geddit, might)

holy shit it's mccrassidy overwatch how in fuckaroo did they get the rights to him

there's that spy kids 3 nonsense again

probably ain't much more dangerous than a villain who learns from his defeats and doesn't take it out on his underlings. wassit called, the Evil Mastermind List? that.

CAT PERSON. …the bell is a little much tho

deku: literally exists bakugo: "and I took that personally"

ayup. next season next time. maybe with less of a break between, but fucked if I ever know when I'm gonna do what. : |

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 5

“Girls,” why don’t you finish your homework and set the table while dad and I talk for a minute?”

“Can daddy stay for dinner?” CeCe reached for his hand and looked up at you, a sweet but pleading smile on her face.

“Can’t actually, honey,” Luke informed. “I’ve got somewhere to be, so--this has to be quick, unfortunately.”

“Great,” you nodded, bitterness laced through your words. “Girls, just give us one second, okay?"

You made eye contact with Maeve, communicated a look that said please bring your sister inside. She did, she pulled her by the shoulder and offered to let her fold the napkins--her favorite part.

You shut the door one they were back in the house, turned to Luke and crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“To visit.”

“Okay, well, where have you been for the last six months? My dad died--you didn’t think to visit when they lost their grandfather?”

“I’ve been busy,” he whined, letting his hands slap against his legs as if you were nagging him unnecessarily. “Better late than never.”

“Not how that works, but okay.”

“Y/N--can I just come in, hang out with them for a bit?”

“You can’t just come in and out of their lives, Luke, whenever it’s convenient. You either show up with some consistency or you don’t show up at all.”

“So you’d rather them not have a relationship with their father than have one that’s maybe not up to your standards?”

You were back in your marriage, suddenly, back to the fights and the frustration that became a dance you knew all too well. “They’re kids, Luke! Their parents got divorced and then their grandpa died and we moved and now you’re just here on my doorstep. Where’s your girlfriend, anyway?”

You looked past his shoulder--his car was parked on the gravel, apparently he remembered the entry code for the gate. The blonde woman who dangled from his arm on Facebook and the motorcycle he rode were nowhere to be found.

“She’s at home. And she would love to meet the girls, you know.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“You can’t just show up with no notice and take them to meet some random woman you’re sleeping with.”

“Well, do we have to get lawyers involved in this, then? I’m pretty sure I deserve some level of custody over my own children.”

“Now you want custody? I mean--you literally didn’t reply to my calls about settling that in court when we actually got divorced so forgive me for thinking that meant you didn’t care.”

“I want to be able to see my kids, Y/N.”

“Okay--well maybe you can call me in the morning and we can schedule something instead of you showing up at my house.” You turned around to grab the doorknob, but before your hand landed on it, the door pulled open and Harry was stood on the other side with intrigue in his eyes.

“Harry--” you were about to tell him to go inside and stay out of it, but he stuck his hand out in Luke’s direction and smiled.

“Luke--nice to put a face to the name.”

Luke shook his hand but narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Harry.”

“You look familiar--” Luke mumbled this to no one in particular, but his eyes caught yours when you offered him a small smile.

“He’s a client of Jeff’s--he’s a musician.”

Luke made a face at that. “Okay--why are you here?”

“I live here,” Harry said. “With your children and ex-wife.”

“Harry,” you said his name again in warning. He didn’t even look at you, kept his eyes trained on Luke’s as if this was some sort of show down.

Luke nodded slowly, brought his eyes to you. “So our children can’t meet my girlfriend but they can live with a stranger.”

“He’s not a stranger, Luke. He’s known Jeff and the Azoffs for years--he knew my dad.”

“You didn’t think to ask me if that was okay?”

“You never returned my texts about my dead father or asking if you wanted to see them, so, it didn’t really cross my mind.”

Harry took a step in front of you. “Why are you here, man? I think that’s a better question.”

“I could do without the attitude, dude, okay? I can come to see my children if I want.”

“Just curious, since we’re about to eat dinner and I know Maeve’s not done with her homework.”

You rolled your eyes at that--an obvious flex that Harry was more in the know about your kids than he was. Your heart beat was rising, eyes flickering between the two of them.

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to see my own kids.”

“You don’t need mine, but maybe actually co-parenting with Y/N would be a good place to start.”

“Oh so she’s got you playing by all her rules, too?”

“Luke--”

“If you want to call her rules stability, for your children, then sure.”

“So you think you can move in here and just take over as father or something, is that what’s happening? Is there something going on--”

“No--I’m not their father, but I know that Y/N is an incredible mother--”

“Harry, please.”

“So you’re sleeping with this guy and he moves in and that’s fine but they can’t meet my girlfriend.”

“No one said we’re sleeping together, Luke,” you made a face at that, crossed your arms over your chest again and watched him with narrowed eyes.

“Are you?” He looked between the two of you, waiting for an answer like he suddenly had a right to know that information.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “S’none of your business.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, good luck with her, maybe one day she’ll divorce you and then tell you that you can’t see your own kids--didn't know I married such a control freak.”

Harry swung before you could even process the insult, his fist collided with Luke’s face and you let out a gasp. “Harry--are you fucking insane?!”

You rushed over to Luke, now clutching his face on the ground as he swore to himself. “Fucking fuck, that’s a perfectly clear answer, dude--good to know you’re sleeping with her.”

The door had already pulled open again, both Maeve and CeCe looked out into the evening air with wide eyes, uncertainty on their faces when Harry turned around to see them. “Go inside,” he said.

“Why?” Maeve shot this back with a prickly attitude. “What’s happening? Why is dad on the ground?”

“Just go inside,” Harry said it again, his words more stern.

“You’re not my dad, Harry, you can’t tell me what to do!”

Now was not the time for Maeve’s theatrics.

Luke shot back to his feet and lunged towards Harry, words interspersed between grunts when his own fist grazed the side of Harry’s jaw. “Don’t tell my kids what to do!”

Maeve pulled CeCe inside and shut the door quickly, some kind of instinct taking over her when you yanked at the back of Luke’s shirt. “Luke, get the fuck off of him!”

Harry shoved him back, he lost his footing and fell to the ground again but was quick to get up and brush the dirt off of his hands. You stood in front of Harry, who now rubbed at his jaw and looked more dejected than before, green eyes more somber when you shook your head.

“Both of you need to grow the fuck up--you just tried to beat each other up in front of the girls.”

Harry dropped your gaze and moved his jaw in circles, Luke glared with resentment, but they were both quiet.

“Go, Luke--you can’t show up and pull this shit, okay? We’re not doing it like this.”

“So now I don’t get to see my kids because your fucking boyfriend punched me in the face?”

“I didn’t say that!” You shouted, your volume making both of them flinch. “I never said you can’t see them but you certainly can’t just show up and expect me to take that well. We’re not talking about it now, so please, do everyone a favor and get the fuck out.”

He thought about it for a second, reached up to touch his cheek--already swollen and bruised--before he let out a sigh and looked at Harry. “Fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you too,” Harry said quickly.

“Go inside,” you said to Harry, a hand on his chest. “And ice that.”

Luke scoffed at your attempt to aid him, but when you turned to see him, he shrunk under your gaze.

“Get out!”

He turned and mumbled, “my lawyer will be in touch.”

“Mine looks forward to that call,” you said sweetly. He climbed into his car and pulled the door shut, Harry stood behind you, feet glued to the front step until Luke’s car pulled out onto the road.

When he was gone, you turned around. He hadn’t budged, he waited for you to say something, but you pulled your phone out and dialed Jeff’s number before you even addressed him.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hi--can you please come get the girls and take them out for dinner or something? Luke just showed up at my house and Harry punched him in the face and then Maeve and CeCe saw Luke try to punch Harry. So--I’m going to need some help. Immediately."

You could hear him grab his keys, he was in his car before he hung up and when you ended the call, the door had been pulled open again.

Maeve stepped out but closed it behind her. “I turned the stove off and CeCe’s watching TV. But I’m not going to lie, she’s suspicious.”

You let out a sigh that turned into a laugh, brought a hand up to your face. You didn’t know if you were mad or sad or amused or terrified. A mix of emotions when she looked up to Harry.

“Did you punch my dad in the face?”

He looked to you, eyes wide as if he needed your help to get out of this one.

You shrugged, not going to save your ass.

“I lost my temper and that was not okay,” he said.

“But then my dad punched you.”

More hesitance, but he nodded. “Right.”

They both looked to you. Quiet for a moment--was Maeve’s childhood shattered here in front of the house, broken atop the gravel that crunched under Luke’s tires when he drove away?

Hopefully not. Hopefully this wasn’t the moment she’d recount in adulthood, a therapist’s office somewhere on the East Coast, my mom let a pop star move in and then he punched my dad in the face.

“Uncle Jeff is coming and is going to take you and your sister out for dinner.” You didn’t know what else to tell her.

“Okay,” she accepted this, something told you she knew that this was serious and this was not something to ask a thousand questions about. “Can I say something?”

“Sure.”

“I think dad’s probably jealous because it’s obvious you guys like like each other.”

You watched her for a second, unable to piece together a rebuttal. So instead of replying, you told her to get her shoes on, tugged Harry inside and sat him at the island.

A bag of frozen peas was pressed to his jaw when Jeff showed up. Maeve and CeCe were in the living room with the TV on, both of them sat on the couch under a thick layer of tension.

“What the fuck happened?” Jeff asked quietly, car still running outside.

“You’ll have to ask your friend,” you said, scooping the uneaten dinner you’d made into Tupperware. “But maybe you can ask him later so I can yell at him first.”

Jeff smiled in your direction, approving of your reply. He looked to Harry, “don’t be an asshole.” He walked over to the living room without a word from Harry and greeted the girls.

“Be good,” you told them. They were quiet, waved goodbye and faded into the driveway once Jeff shut the door.

Silence, except for the crunching from the frozen peas when Harry shifted the bag against his jaw and tried not to wince in pain. He looked at you, guilt creased in his forehead.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

He sighed, dropped your gaze. “I’m sorry I punched your ex-husband in the face.”

“How about the fact that you came out there and got involved in the first place?”

This got him riled up. “Well I didn’t know what to do, Y/N! Maeve said you were talking to him and I wasn’t about to leave you alone with him.”

“I was married to him for 10 years. I know how to be alone with the guy.”

“I shouldn’t have punched him,” he admitted quickly.

“You shouldn’t have.”

He stood from the stool and set the peas down. “But I hated what he said about you--acting like you’re the bad guy here. You’re not.”

“I know I’m not, I didn’t need you to defend me!”

A step closer to you. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders, looked away for a second like he couldn’t say it. What was he supposed to say? I like you? I have feelings for you? Did he? You were just as confused as he looked.

“Because I feel like we’re a family, in a weird way, the four of us.”

Just as it always had, the word anchored itself beneath your ribs, made it hard to breathe when you tried to define it in your head.

A family? People related by blood. People who live together. People who love each other. You didn’t have the time or the patience to define it right now with him still looking at you like your silence hurt his feelings.

Maybe it got under your skin and maybe it warmed your heart at the same time. It was at least enough reassurance that you weren’t crazy, and you weren’t imagining all of this. Maybe he did have feelings for you in some way, maybe he did belong here somehow.

“I can’t believe all of that happened,” you said this seriously, but when you looked up at him again you couldn’t help but laugh. How idiotic--your ex husband and your ex-boyband house guest duked it out on the front lawn. Tristan was right, your life had suddenly become a trashy romance novel and that realization brought humor to an otherwise horrendous evening.

“What?” His lips tugged into a smirk.

“Am I going to get blacklisted for causing an injury to your perfect face? Is Jeff going to murder me when he brings the girls home?”

He rolled his eyes at your joke but smiled. “I’m the idiot that thought it was a good idea to punch the ex-husband of my--”

Your breath hitched in your throat, you let out a sigh when he shrugged and offered a verbal pivot. “It was stupid--you didn’t cause it.”

There was still an awkward amount of space between you. He’d stood up like he wanted to move closer to you instinctually, comfort you or touch you. But now you twisted a ring on your finger and didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll apologize to the girls, tell them it was wrong of me and talk to them about it.”

You nodded, was that appropriate? Should you be the one to discuss this with them? Where did you even start in regard to addressing Maeve’s comment at the front door?

“I think maybe I should talk to them.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Maybe I should clear it up with Maeve too, you know, just what she said about us.”

“Right--what are you going to say?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

He took a step closer to you. “You could tell her that she’s right.”

You looked up at him, eyes on his for a second like the world had been paused. You’d been speechless before. Maybe not often, and maybe not for reasons like this, but when you didn’t say anything, he took a step back.

“Sorry--you’re right. Best to not involve them.”

Your voice came out in a squeak, insecure and lacking the confidence you’d tried so hard to build. “You think?”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s what you were going to say, right?”

Was it?

“Yeah.”

He scratched at the back of his neck, slid the peas forward on the counter. “Thanks for these. I should probably shower.”

“Okay.”

A hesitance in him, you could see it. He took a step towards the stairs but kept his hand on the counter, a quick glance over his shoulder. “Are we alright?”

“Yeah, yes.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Certain. Goodnight, Harry.”

**

Jeff wasn’t mad at you about Harry’s face. If anything, he was mad at Luke for being an asshole and mad at Harry for being stupid enough to get involved. You didn’t dare tell him about the things he’d said in the kitchen when you were home alone.

Harry’s ego was bruised almost as bad as his jaw, which seemed to turn a darker shade of blue-ish yellow the next day.

Maeve was sat at the dining room table, eyes fluttered in annoyance when CeCe climbed into her seat and then looked at you. “Sorry,” she said. “I had to go pee.”

“That’s okay,” you nodded, letting out a sigh when you looked between them. “So, I called a family meeting because I wanted to talk about what happened the other day when dad was here.”

“When is he visiting again?” CeCe smiled, distracted by the mention of her absent parent.

“Not for a while,” Maeve answered with an eye roll. “He punched Harry.”

“They punched each other,” CeCe corrected with an attitude.

“Exactly, which is the problem, because as you both know we don’t use our hands to communicate in this house. We use words.”

“Well why didn’t Harry use words to tell dad that he likes you?”

“That’s not what was happening, Maeve.”

Was it wrong to lie to her? She rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe you, like your words were just a cover up for whatever was really happening--you bit your lip when you realized that they were.

“Then why did they fight?”

“Because,” you said, exerting your mom-power. “They disagreed about something. Just like you two disagree sometimes.”

“We’re eleven and six,” Maeve made a face at you. “It’s age-appropriate for CeCe to pull my hair.”

You stared at her blankly--she was too smart for her own good. “But it’s wrong, any type of violence is wrong.”

“So is daddy coming to visit again or no?” CeCe was probably having trouble keeping up, she looked confused but invested when you smiled at her.

“Maybe--him and I still need to talk about that.”

“He never comes to see us!” Maeve complained, frustration in her voice when the front door opened. Harry--hair pushed back with a headband, curls escaped on the side and a dewy layer of sweat on his forehead--apparently he’d gone for a run.

The bruise on his jaw was visible. “Hi,” he looked around, solemn. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You said dad was going to visit us still when we moved here but he hasn’t!”

You turned back to Maeve, parenting duties outweighed your desire to take in the sight of Harry post-workout.

“I can’t control your father,” you reminded her. “We’ve talked about this--he loves you, but he…” you felt awkward saying it in front of Harry, a watered down version of the truth. “He’s not good at managing his time. He forgets things and he gets distracted. But he loves you.”

“Then why doesn’t he come visit?” Maeve asked, arms crossed over chest. She wore a purple shirt, one that you’d gotten at the Gap and that she used to say she hated, probably just because you said it looked nice on her.

Her voice was softer now, less angry and more confused, a tinge of sadness when Harry walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. Another thing he probably hadn’t planned on: witnessing uncomfortable family meetings where you tried to explain to your children why their father doesn’t keep in touch.

It was a fair question, you couldn’t blame her for asking and wondering. Why didn’t he reach out more? Why didn’t he make an effort to see them?

You couldn’t admit your own confusion to them. “He’s just busy, honey. He loves you both a lot, I know that. But I can talk to him and see if we can schedule a time for him to come see you.”

Harry paused at that--far away in the kitchen, glass to his lips when he stopped sipping and looked in your direction. When he noticed he’d been caught, he cleared his throat and headed out to the patio.

CeCe looked up at you with big eyes. “Can daddy come for my ballet recital?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. “I can ask him.”

That seemed to be good enough for them. Maeve was eager to head out to a friend’s house when her ride showed up and CeCe was more than happy to play in the backyard by herself.

Harry was stood on the patio still when CeCe ran to the swing set, glass of water still in his hand as if he hadn’t a clue what was going on. His eyebrows raised when you stood in the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he turned to see you, hand on his hip. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to burst in there.”

“It’s fine, I think they get it. I mean, I don’t know, as much as they can, I guess.”

He nodded, stared at the ground when he spoke. “You know, I was thinking on my run--if this is too much I can talk to Jeff about staying at his. I don’t want to make--”

“No,” you shook your head, probably too quickly. Surprised by your own reply, you crossed your arms. “I mean, it’s fine. I just think maybe we should take a minute to figure out--”

“Right,” he nodded, cutting your sentence down to a half-formed thought. “Understood.”

He looked away at that, glanced down to his running shoes before he kicked at the patio slate beneath them.

You bit at the inside of your cheek, cursed yourself for how stupid you’d been. This is why you shouldn’t have let your guard down in the first place. First Luke, then your dad, now this type of stress all under one roof was possibly too much for everyone involved. The last 12 months had already snowballed into a mess of emotions and you should have known better.

As the adult in the equation, you were sure that this was all your fault.

And yet you wished it wasn’t--something in you wanted to walk over to him, wrap your arms around his middle and feel comforted by his touch. He brought his eyes to you and was about to speak when the alarm beeped. The front door opened, Tristan appeared through the glass doors and waved when CeCe ran over to see who the visitor was. Conversation effectively over.

“Hi,” he greeted with a smile, completely unaware that he’d just walked in at the worst time. “Glad I caught you both here. Sorry to barge in but I wanted to confirm details about the launch party so we can get it squared away.”

Harry stood awkwardly still, weight shifting on his feet when Tristan pulled out his phone to decline a call but kept talking. “I talked to Helen and Kira, the restaurant’s booked and the headcount is confirmed so we’re pretty much good to go.”

Right, the body wash debut and the celebratory dinner that Tristan had insisted on having. It was more than just the body wash debut: a celebration of how much Luna Skincare had grown, the launch of a whole new product line, a pick me up to try to make you feel less stressed, as Tristan had said.

Harry was confused, Tristan looked between the two of you. “Oh--did you...not tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

“About the dinner, the party we’re having,” Tristan shrugged and watched you, confused as to why you hadn’t looped Harry in.

It wasn’t purposeful. You’d spent countless showers contemplating if and how to invite him. Was he your date? Was he just a friend who was coming? Would he sit beside you or beside Jeff or was it better to leave him out of it altogether to avoid the questions and overthinking that had already saturated your brain before the event?

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know about it.”

Great, now you looked like an asshole. You laughed awkwardly to try and brush it off. “Well, we were still planning, I was going to invite you, of course. It’s for the body wash debut.”

He nodded, having gathered that much already.

You cleared your throat, the invitation a clear backtrack. “You should come, it’s just a dinner at La Cava. The team that worked on it, Jeff is coming, Zoey, some of our friends.”

He hesitated, glanced over to Tristan like he didn’t know how to reply but then looked back to you. “I thought we just said we--”

“It’s fine,” now you cut him off, a wave of your hand when you turned back to Tristan. “It’s gonna be great--do we have to finalize a menu?”

“I’ll have it on your desk by Tuesday morning.”

“Great, do you want to stay for dinner?”

He looked between the two of you, somehow aware of the tension that hovered above your backyard. “Can’t,” he said slowly. “I have a date, actually.”

“Oh, okay. Who’s the guy?”

“Someone I met online,” he shrugged. “Check my location and if I’m not home by midnight, please call the police.”

You laughed, “will do.”

He kissed you on the cheek and then waved to CeCe when she screamed BYE TRISTY!!!

Harry said something about taking a shower and seeing a friend that night, he dipped out the backdoor before dinner and you had no clue what time he got home. But that was for the best, right? You needed to take a step back to get your feet back on the ground.

You didn’t need to concern yourself with where he was or what he was doing--and the tiny voice of anxiety in the back of your brain reminded you that you definitely didn’t need to know who he was with.

Doing so had only made your emotions more jumbled. You’d been stupid enough to think there was something here, think that all of this meant something. And maybe it did, in moments. Harry had been the one to say that Maeve was right, but where did that sentence end? Maeve was right and: I have to go on tour, I’m too young to be a step father, I’m not looking for a serious relationship, I’m too busy for all of this.

The sentence likely ended with a fiery crash into flames and embarrassment.

Whatever was going on between the two of you--between the four of you, even--was a momentary blip on the radar of life. An extra set of hands when you needed them, someone to help things settle back into place after your life had been shaken up like the contents of a snow globe.

But somehow, eventually, things had to settle. You were only upset that it had been rattled again, by fists and bruises and angry words, before you were finally able to see that it was time for things to calm down.

He knew this too. He pulled back over the next week, spent less time downstairs and when you found yourself in the kitchen with him one night after the girls were asleep, a general sense of unease seemed to blanket the room.

Your phone dinged on the counter in front of him when he forked into a bowl of leftovers.

“Oh, you--uh--it’s a message from Luke.”

You were bent over at the dishwasher, the final plate tucked inside when you stood up, a wrinkle in your forehead at his words.

“Luke?”

He slid it over, took another bite and pretended to be disinterested.

Luke (9:24pm): Been thinking about it. Once every two months would be great. Don’t want to get lawyers involved--call me next week and we can talk about when to schedule something. Sorry about punching your friend.

You let out a breath you hadn’t meant to hold, licked at your lips when your eyes welled with tears. You looked up at Harry--who’d apparently been watching you. “Sorry, I’m fine, I just--”

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s fine to only see the girls every two months and we can talk about scheduling. And he apologized for punching you.”

Harry let out a sigh at that, his shoulders slumped like they’d been tense. “I mean--I think I did more damage to him, but, s’fine.” He brought his eyes up to meet yours and smiled a bit. “But that’s good--if he wants to see them there should be some type of predictability to it.”

“Right,” you agreed, a beat of silence. “I should probably feel bad for the girls that their father only wants to see them six times a year but I’m honestly just relieved at this point.”

He held back a quiet laugh. “I don’t blame you. Don’t need any more fist fights.”

You looked up at him, bit back a smirk and tugged at the necklace around your neck. “Definitely not.” Another beat of silence when he looked down at the countertop, his lips were parted like he wanted to speak, but then he sighed again.

The sadness on his face tugged at your heart, you spit out words if only to fill the air between you.

“I’m also sorry that he punched you. You shouldn’t have punched him first, obviously, but, he’s an idiot. The father of my children, but an idiot nonetheless.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I overstepped, so, I’m the one that owes you an apology.”

You nodded. He wasn’t wrong. He did owe you an apology despite the fact that he’d already said it that night. But you didn’t want it to feel as awkward and uncomfortable as it had been for the last few days.

Maybe the girls didn’t sense it, Harry was still teaching Maeve guitar and he still chased CeCe around the backyard, tossing her over his shoulder when he finally caught up. But instead of sneaking into your room at night he shut his bedroom door quietly and you pretended you didn’t watch to see when he finally turned the light out.

“By the way, my house is coming along. They said I can move in sometime in the next two weeks probably.” He nodded like this was a business meeting, neat and tidy information that he presented on top of the island like there wasn’t any weight to his words.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah--so, I’ll keep you updated, I guess.”

In a year of uncertainty and with a thousand twists and turns, something about Harry made you feel like your path was straight, like no unexpected bumps or roadblocks could throw you off course. Somehow, he’d simultaneously been the one to make things fall into place and stir up emotions inside of you that you forgot existed.

But the mere thought of that brought on so much judgment and self-doubt. You'd been desperate and pathetic and searching for anything that would keep you upright, then Harry showed up with a suitcase and a heart of gold.

It wasn’t his fault that you fell for him. There was no one to blame but you.

He saw the look on your face, one of swirling thoughts and anxiety. He cleared his throat. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

You looked up at him sheepishly, like you’d been caught in your own internal monologue of a shame spiral. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

He laughed, reached for glasses above the stove and poured.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: this one was a bit shorter--but don't worry, everything happens for a reason.

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[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Five

Words: 4k

Warning(s): explicit language, domestic abuse, violence, drug abuse

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"Hey, Nikki, c'mon!" The sound of Fred shouting on the other side of the bathroom door pulls me to my feet, making me swing the door open and catch myself on the side of the doorway before I can face plant. 

His expression is neutral, but I see it in his eyes...he knows they're losing me. "Three more nights to go," he reminds me, "make it count." 

I wipe my mouth, following him down the hallway, catching a glimpse of Vivian talking to Izzy while Steven's got his arms around her hips, pulling her to sit in his lap and she does, patting at his arms while he rests his cheek against her back and closes his eyes to rest a second as her conversation with Izzy doesn't skip a beat. 

Maybe she's sleeping with all of them. 

Not like it matters at this point. 

We're over anyway and I'll probably be dead before either of us can even file. 

She looks like she's about to look at me but I make sure to cut away from looking at her to avoid being caught, grabbing my bass from the tech as Tommy starts in on the drums, the screams of our fans echoing backstage as Mick, Vince and I head under the stage, my fingers lightly brushing against her crucifix around my neck for a split second. 

I'd stolen it when I found it in Duff's bathroom...when people asked me, "dude, how'd you take that news? You kicked his ass, right? You showed that cheating bitch, right?" 

Well…

The Night Before

"Hey, Nikki, man, can you help us with this?" Slash asks me once I get my room's door open, and I raise my brows. 

"With what?" I reply, confused. 

He motions down the hall, and I peek my head out to see Steven and Duff trying to push a desk out of Steven's room.

"We're fucking with hotel. We need help getting the desk, chair, lamp, and night stand from Steven's room into the elevator before someone needs to use it." He explains. 

"So they can have a more comfortable ride." Stevie pipes with a grin. 

I've been locked in my room all day and I won't get to see these guys until the end of next month starting in a few days, so…

"Hell, yeah." I agree, stepping out of the hall. 

"Where's your clothes man?" I ask Duff when I get to him and Steven, helping them push the desk along the carpet, to the elevator. 

He's in his boxers and a pair of his cowboy boots, and he replies, "me and this girl got in an argument and she stole my clothes."

I can't help but laugh. 

Poor Duff, he's probably never dealt with crazy, vindictive, mind-screwing women before. 

We get the desk and chair into the elevator before the doors try to shut, signaling someone needing to use it, and I'm snatching Steven out of there before it goes down. 

Whoever the fuck uses it will probably shit a brick once they realize it's gonna be impossible to get inside without crawling over the desk. 

After that, we get the elevator back pretty quick and finish the job before pressing every button in the elevator to make a stop at every floor, just to make people in need of it wait longer. 

"What're you guys doing?" I hear Viv's voice and turn to see her standing in the hallway with her room door open. 

"None of your fucking business." I snap at her, just as the elevator dings and the doors open to reveal all the fucking furniture, Izzy, and a groupie. 

They're sitting on the desk as if it's no big deal, and Izzy hops off of it and helps his lady friend down, the two of them looking at me and the guys. 

"Good one." Izzy tells us, nodding to the elevator and I chuckle as he passes by, lightly patting at my shoulder, saying, "goodnight, man." 

"Children." I hear Vivian mumble, shutting her door behind her. 

"She's not feeling good today." Duff tells me, trying to get me to drop it before I even pick it up. 

I don't listen, stomping to her door and banging on it. 

She opens it, and I sneer down at her. 

"We're having fun, what the fuck makes you think you can come out and shit on it when nobody even wants you on this fucking tour to begin with?!" I bark at her. 

"Nikki, all I said--"

"--I know what you fucking said because you've been saying it the past six fucking years. We get it. I get it. So just fucking drop it and mind your own goddamn business!" 

She shuts the door in my face, making me kick the door, before taking a breath, and turning to see Steven, Slash, and Duff, trying not to be too uncomfortable. 

"You guys got any booze?" I ask, knowing they do. 

"Yeah, man." Slash nods, motioning me to Duff's room. 

He hands me a bottle of Jack and I start downing it with no hesitation, wrinkling my nose at it's peculiar taste--more peculiar than usual.

"It's half Jack, half Vodka." Slash explains and I wrinkle my nose, my throat on fire as I cough. 

"What the fuck?" I ask, my head swimming, and he shrugs. 

"We got bored and figured we'd try it." 

"Don't let Viv know. She'll pour it out." I mumble, wiping my mouth, sitting on the foot of Duff's bed as he and Steven join us. 

"I know you two have a lot going on but go a little easier on her, man." Slash says to me, next.

"Yeah, you guys are our friends so seeing you fight is weird." Steven adds. 

"Like watching parents try to kill each other in front of their kids." Duff states and I sigh. 

"I know you guys are friends with her but you don't see what she's really like." I insist. "She's fucking nuts." 

"Trust us, we know." Steven scoffs. 

"She's a sweet girl, she's just going through a lot." Duff interjects, grabbing the bottle of jack/vodka from me, taking a sip for himself. 

"She was a sweet girl." I argue calmly. "Breakups just fucking make people unrecognizable. I don't see the chick I proposed to. I see a wicked bitch from hell that possessed her and just uses her body as a disguise." I add. 

None of them say anything, because they can't argue it. 

They see how we treat each other. 

It's a given I'll be an asshole, but when someone like Vivian starts spewing venom, it's because she's lost their fucking mind.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." I grumble, feeling my stomach wrench before I'm stumbling to the bathroom, vomit spewing past my lips into the toilet, my hand grasping the edge of the counter to keep myself from falling forward, the sound of the clink of metal against the floor as I accidentally knock one of Duff's necklaces to the bathroom tile. 

Once I'm done puking, I take deep breaths, closing my eyes for a moment before flushing the toilet. 

I reach for the necklace to put it back on the counter, before I get a good look at it. 

It's a small, sparkling cross a little too dainty for Duff...my stomach drops, my mind going back to the night I first met Vivian, when I first saw it around her neck and sneered everytime I looked at it. 

How she took it off before she and I fooled around for the first time, and everytime after that, until we got married…

My blood runs cold, another wave of nausea hitting me, bile rushing up in my throat before I can stop it, splattering onto the floor.

Maybe I would've been prepared had Vince told me what was going on. He'd found out after Sparkie got blacked out on smack and told him what he had discovered about saint Viv. 

It felt like a twenty-five pound weight had busted my balls. I didn't have time to think about it much in the moment.

"Gross." Steven wrinkles his nose a little as he peeks in to check on me. "I'll call the cleaning people." He adds, shutting the door, and I look at the necklace one last time before tucking it into my pocket. I'll confront her with it, later. 

I get out of the bathroom, Duff, Slash and Steven all looking at me.

"Dude, you alright?" Duff asks, smoking a cigarette, and I nod. 

"Yeah. I just feel like shit." I reply, trying to mask the fact I just found out he's been fucking my wife. "I'm gonna go lay down for a few minutes and see if I don't feel a little better." I tell them, stepping to the door. 

"Alright, man." Slash replies. 

"See ya." I mumble as Steven adds, "feel better, Sixx!" 

I get to my room, slamming the door, pacing, throwing my empty bottle of Jack at the wall and watching the glass shatter, my fingers raking through my hair. 

How the fuck could Vivian do this to me? How could Duff? My band gave his band a shot--a good one. I thought he and I were friends. You don't fuck your friend's chick. 

Okay, I fucked Roxy but that was different, I was high. 

Duff isn't into hard drugs and Viv's sober so neither of them have an excuse for it. 

A pit grows in my chest as I think a little more.

What if they were messing around back when she posed for Playboy? Maybe that's why he went with her…or maybe they've been at it since before Vanity let it out that me and her were together…that would explain why Viv hid him from me for so long.

My nostrils flare at the thought. 

Who the fuck does she think she is?! Cheating on me?! Does she realize how many girls would love to be married to me and here she is with my own fucking buddy. Heartless cunt. And he's an ungrateful bastard. I gave his fucking band a shot at getting what they've been hungry for and this is how he repays me? Nailing my wife on the very tour I invited him to play on? 

I take heavy breaths before stepping to the phone, dialing Tansy's room number. 

She's supposed to be back by now from her little break, and when I hear her answer, I sigh in relief. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Tans, whatcha up to?" I ask, grin on my face, knowing exactly what she's about to be up to, if she isn't already.

Tansy and I were like arsenic and cyanide. She was like Vanity--without the batshit craziness, or the sex. We'd hang out and just spend hours getting high together. I was one of her best friends, so it should've been my job to protect her, but if that were the case, I would've been encouraging her to throw her smack and coke out, instead of always wanting to hang out just so we could get high together like it was a bonding experience or something. Yeah, seeing each other at their fucking shittiest really bonds people to one another, right. 

It was a punch in the stomach when I found out about all the hell she'd gone through for years, that made her want to get lost in drugs, and eventually made her want to get lost past the confines of this life. 

A majority of her friends were protective "manly" men who would fist fight a pole if need be, well, Steven, at least. 

We were supposed to protect her. 

And I know, "Well, you didn't know." 

We would've known, had we paid more attention, and I wasn't paying attention because I was like a woodpecker with its head in a branch, except my head was in a pile of smack.

I hang my head over the toilet, vomit pouring from my lips as my head reels with dizziness, my veins aching as Tansy rests against the bathtub, slobber rolling down her chin from being in the same position I'm in only a few seconds ago. 

Our burnt spoons and sharp smelling foils are left to the floor as we're taken over by a monster bigger than ourselves, the sound of Slash, Steven, Duff, and Vivian's laughter from the hallway creeping past my door, slipping under the bathroom's door, pushing through the smoke and mirrors, nearly shattering my high before it even has its full start.

The next night results in the same outcome, only this time, I've decided to pick myself up with help from my favorite smoke, except the hit from the crackpipe comes with the expected.

Sweat beads down my back as I shake, curled up in the bathtub with the shower's curtain pulled, hearing the footsteps of my room's intruder. 

"Nikki?" A familiar voice calls softly, but the demon in my ear overpowers my want to go to her. 

I curl further into myself, squeezing my eyes closed, my shaking hand gripping at the cross around my neck that belongs to her. 

"If you're real just make it go away." I'm saying before I can stop myself. "Help me cut this shit, and give me my wife back." 

I knew I hit rock bottom when I prayed to a God I didn't even believe in…and I guess, in the end, my prayer was answered, but fuck if I didn't get in my own way.

I finally coax myself out of the tub after a few more minutes, seeing the light is off in my room under the door, before I open the bathroom door, my hair standing on end, my bare, ragged feet moving as quietly as I can move them as I pad onto the carpet, stepping to the bed where a figure is laid out, the shine of red hair across a pillow radiating from the bathroom light drifting into the room. Peaceful, sleeping features show no threat, but something wicked is beating in my head as I slowly approach her, my boney knuckle rubbing at her cheek, slowly, opting a tired, soft moan to leave her, her body shifting before stilling. 

I know it's bullshit. It's a facade. I know she's waiting for me to fall out so she can leech off of me. 

Fucking witch. 

If I pass out, she'll strike, and I won't make it out alive. 

Her nails are clawing blood from my arms as she gasps out, kicking her feet when my hands lock around her throat, my eyes glossing over as she tries to scream out. 

Her hand bangs, hard, against the wall the bed is against, her hands trying to fight me off as tears roll down her cheeks, her face beginning to turn a deeper shade of red. 

"Nikki, what the--Nikki, what the fuck?!" I hear Fred's voice, but I hear it as if I'm under water, my focus captivated completely as my eyes burn into Vivian's before I'm being snatched off of her and thrown into the floor. 

She's a coughing, gagging, gasping, crying mess. 

"What the fuck, Nikki?!" Fred yells at me and I look at Vivian. 

It's as if I'm coming back to myself, the reality of what I just tried to do…

What the fuck, Nikki? You already fucking shot her, and now this? If you don't get your shit together you won't have a fucking wife to patch things up with!

What am I saying? I already don't. She's fucking Duff. 

She's legally married to me, but emotionally she's already been single for months, now.

I didn't strangle her because I was pissed over Duff. I strangled her because in my fucked up paranoia I was convinced she was going to kill me, first. 

The truth was she wasn't. Duff, on the other hand, definitely considered it once he found out. But I don't blame him for it, now.

The next night, I feel my lip curl as I spot greasy, unkept hair, and scabbed, yellow skin. 

Sparkie's smoking a cigarette, his arm around Tansy. 

Its fucking pathetic. 

He's contributing to her demise--if not the reason it kickstarted in the first place--and she still looks at him like he's the only dude on the fucking planet and she can't get enough. 

My mind drifts to what would happen if by freak chance Vivian did decide to try something with him. 

It makes my skin crawl to think of Vivian in the same position as Tansy: doped up, exhausted to the point she can't fight back when she's pimped out by him, worn down…

The mere idea of it makes bile rise to the back of my throat. 

The fact Tansy's gone through it only adds to my nausea. 

I hold it in and step past them, glaring at Sparkie. 

"Stay away from my fucking wife." I threaten him and he flinches a little. 

Pussy. 

I spot Axl shooting a death glare at him from the corner of my eye. 

He looks pissed as a hornet, his sharp jaw clenching and unclenching as Vince and Tommy walk past him to get ready to go on stage. 

I hear Skylar crying from the dressing room with Sharise--they came down a few nights ago. 

I look back to Axl, tension getting tighter and tighter in his body. 

All it takes is Sparkie clapping his hands one good, loud, time, just to see Tansy's jittering, withdrawal-beginning, body nearly jump out of it's own skin. 

This does it. 

Out of fucking nowhere Axl is tackling him like a linebacker, not giving the walking incarnate of an STD time to think before he's beating the shit--literal, shit--out of him, the putrid smell taking up space backstage, making me and the guys gag as Fred, Doc, and Izzy try to get the pissed redhead off the junkie.

I expect Tansy to be screaming or crying like usual when someone gives Sparkie what his punk-ass deserves, but she makes no protest to Axl. 

I immediately look away when Viv comes into the picture, a look of worry on her face as Axl yells: "Bitchy little princess, I'll give you a fucking reason to go fucking shoot up!" 

The smell of Sparkie's shit continues to permeate the area as Doc and Fred get him away from Axl. 

Tansy just stands still, her big, blue eyes blinking at Axl.

I meet Vivian's gaze, noticing the cake of makeup covering her neck, and a pit is dug into my stomach. 

Fuck. 

"Dude, you good?" Tommy asks me, and I nod. 

"Yeah, just grossed out." I mumble, seeing Izzy leaning against the wall, dry heaving from the smell as Viv and Duff coax Axl down the hall to their dressing room.

Me, the guys, Emi and Donna all get into position, and I try to shake off all the shit that's happened, because we need to have a kickass show. 

As soon as mine and Mick's cue hits, and I'm face-to-face with thousands of people who all want a piece of me, I can't control uneasiness of my stomach, and when I take a moment to grab a drink of water, my throat ignites when I down a gulp of vodka, instead. 

What the fuck? 

I figure it's set aside for Mick, and try not to let it happen again. 

Only I do. 

Repeatedly throughout the show.

And that on top of smack, on top of the Jack Tommy and I chug during part of the show, leaves me sloppy as hell and stumbling off stage come curtain call. 

I see two Duff's stomping over to me, looking the most mean I've seen him ever look, Vivian on his heels. 

"Hey, man, wha--" 

I don't have time to finish my question. 

He knocks the shit out of me in the blink of an eye, and I stumble back, not able to react in time before he's shoving through Fred and Doc, giving another punch to my cheek, but I strike back this time, twice, before he just starts waylaying me relentlessly, Vivian screaming, stupid enough to try to get between us before Izzy's yanking her away. 

I feel my skin split under the pressure of one of Duff's rings, my vision spotty before he's thrown back by Fred and Axl. 

"You mother fucker!" He screams at me viciously as Doc comes to my side. "You stay the fuck away from her, you understand me?!" 

"Duff, it was an accident!" Vivian cries out hoarsely. 

"Look at your fucking neck! How is that a fucking accident?!" He's so pissed he's nearly in tears, too, and I feel my heart pound as I see where the makeup has been smeared off of Vivian's neck, revealing dark bruises in the shape of my fingers. 

"He was high!" Vivian insists.

"He was high when he shot you, he was high when he proposed to another woman, he's high everytime he treats you like shit, he was high when he fucking tried to kill you last night…" Duff rambles off, his face bright red. "...Stop excusing his bullshit with 'he was high', he's not high--that's just who the fuck he is, now!" He shouts, her feelings hurt from the looks of her expression. 

"Come on over here and see who the fuck I am, now!" I can't help but to spit out, even though I'm in no position to win a fight. 

"No, no!" Fred scolds as he and Doc are in front of me while Steven and Axl stay with Duff, trying to calm him down. 

First Axl and Sparkie, now me and Duff, all in one night. 

I bet Fred and Doc regret bringing them on tour, too, because I sure as shit do. 

If I felt like arguing anymore I'd ask Duff how my balls taste since that's where Vivian's mouth spent a good amount of time the past six years...if I wanted them to know that I know about them, I'd say it. 

If I knew it would make a difference, I would. 

But I know it won't, so I keep my mouth shut. 

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Maze Trials: A Gally Fanfiction

Pairing: Gally x Emi(OC)

Background: Emi, first girl the Glade has seen. Tougher than she looks and more than ready to prove it. Since day one her and Gally have been at each other's throats. Fighting constantly and not just with their words.

(Gally fanfiction which will include smut. It also has an actual story line. Think of it as an AU to the original Maze Runner. It'll mostly follow the main story line with some changes. Mostly focusing on Emi and Gally and their relationship.)

Chapter Six

This morning I'm with Newt trying out the job of a farmer. We are in the middle of the gardens. He's showing me the difference between all the plants.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked suddenly standing up and facing me.

"Sure" I said.

"What happened between you and Minho? I saw the two of you walking into the woods together then this morning at breakfast he was uncharacteristically quiet." Newt stared at me awaiting my answer.

"Well, he kissed me and the kiss progressed and got pretty heated but I stopped it. I told him I wouldn't let him go any farther than that kiss. Then I walked back to the homestead." I explained kicking at the dirt.

"I knew he had a thing for you. Pretty much everyone knew. The guy can't be subtle at all." Newt chuckled.

"You think he's mad?" I asked him.

"Nah, he will be over it before you know it and he will be right back to hitting on you again. Minho is not one to give up." Newt smiled.

"Do you like him?" Newt asked me taking a step closer.

I shrugged.

"I don't really know. I only remembered my name yesterday. I've only been here a few days. I'm still trying to fill everything out. I don't think I'm ready to like anyone yet."

"Well warn me before you get there cause I have a feeling most of the guys are going to attempt to get with you." Newt laughed as he bent back down.

"What about you?" I asked curiously.

He seemed to freeze for a moment. Then he started picking at the weeds in the dirt.

"I think you're wonderful Emi but not really my type." He said slowly and quietly.

I bent down to help him with the weeds.

"What is that suppose to mean?" I questioned quietly.

Newt chuckled. He popped his head up to look around him before turning back to me.

"It means you're not a guy so you're not my type." He gave me a small shy smile.

I couldn't help the large grin that spread across my face.

"No way!" I shouted earning me a slap on the arm from the blonde.

"Sorry" I whispered.

I laughed but made sure Newt knew his secret was safe with me. I think I just found my best friend. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to about these ridiculous boys.

"Anyone you have an eye on?" I asked quietly as we walked towards one of the tree stumps.

"I use to have a crush on Minho for awhile but that went away awhile back. Now I'm not really into anyone. Maybe one of these days a boy will come out of that box and change that." He smiled hopefully.

"I swear I will get you hooked up with someone one of these days." I grinned at him.

He laughed then started wacking away at the stump. The day went by quickly thanks to Newt and I chatting each other up. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed this much. Before we knew it the bell for lunch sounded.

"I figure after lunch I'm gonna throw you with the builders if that's alright. Speed up the process a little bit." Newt said as we walked towards the hut.

"Yes!" I exclaimed happily.

Newt laughed shaking his head. I think he already knew I was interested in being a builder. I just feel like I'll like that the best. Like I'll be the best at that. Plus I want to out do Gally in any way I can. Not sure why I have a need to do that but I do.

I got my food and found my seat. Newt took a minute to let Gally know the plan. I watched the blonde boy inform the angry one. He nodded once then glanced over to me. When he saw I was already looking at him he quickly looked away.

"I told Gally you were very eager to try being a builder." Newt laughed as he sat next to me.

"Why would you want to be a builder?" Clint asked scrunching up his nose.

"They're all idiots." Jeff whispered.

I just laughed and shook my head. They wouldn't understand if I told them why. I don't fully understand why. I just have this feeling and I think I should follow my gut. After lunch Gally came over and got me so I could follow him to work.

I was practically skipping as I walked with Gally. I was so excited to get my hands dirty. Of course Gally didn't trust me with a big job so he told the other builders what to do then made me go with him to gather more wood and other materials.

Gally took us to the edge of the woods to work on cutting out some wood to use. He handed me an axe then started chopping. I followed his lead chopping on the opposite side of him.

"Don't cut any of your fingers off. I'm not dealing with it." He grumbled as he continued to swing his axe.

"I won't cut off any of my fingers." I snapped at him.

He slammed his axe into the tree and left it there. He stepped closer to me his chest out like he was ready for a fight.

"Do you have a problem princess?" He asked harshly as he glared at me.

I swung my axe hard sticking it in the tree just as he did. Then I stepped away from the tree and towards Gally. I stood toe to toe with him. I wanted to make sure he knew he didn't scare me. Not even a little.

"Yea, I have a problem with the way you talk to me. You think because I'm a girl I can't do the same things you can? You think I won't make my corners as tight as you, I'll cut my fingers off, or I can't beat your ass. Don't you get tired of being proved wrong over and over?" I spat at him stepping even closer.

He growled grabbing my arms and shoving me against the tree our axes were in. His face was so close to mine I could feel his hot breath on my skin. I hadn't noticed the boys in the Glade that could see and hear us stop what they were doing. I was too distracted by the one holding me against a tree.

"You are either very brave or very stupid." He growled in my face.

"How about a little of both. I'd say I tip more to the brave side while you overload into the stupid." I said harshly as I stared him down.

His hold on my arms tightened. His face was getting redder by the minute. I was enjoying this way too much. I think pissing him off would be my new past time.

"I'm very close to beating the klunk out of you." He growled inching his face even closer to mine.

"I mean you can try but I can almost guarantee It'll go about the same as the bonfire." I smiled wickedly at him.

With a very loud growl he let go of my arms. I knew what was coming next. His big fist pulled back and went straight for my face. I let out a howl of a laugh when Gally punched the tree I was just against. He hissed turning around when he heard my laugh. I had moved out of the way at the last second. I could hear the shouts of the other gladers coming our way.

"You better get your swings in now big boy looks like the cavalry is coming to save you." I smiled wide as I did a little side to side dance.

"To save me?" He growled out in disbelief.

I nodded still doing my little dance.

"Gally! What the hell are you doing?" I heard Alby's booming voice.

I did the stupidest thing and glanced towards the leader's voice. Next thing I know I was tackled to the ground with a steaming Gally on top of me. He went for my face but it was easy enough for me to block him. I had to struggle a little to fix myself enough to roll us. 

Once I got myself in just the right angle while blocking Gally's random throws I pushed him off me. His hands held tightly on my shirt pulling me with him. We hit a slight slope perfectly causing us to roll a few times. I made sure that when we stopped I was on top. Gally groaned when his head roughly hit the ground.

"What the shuck are you two doing?" Newt asked in bewilderment.

I grabbed Gally's shirt and pulled lifting his shoulders and head a few inches of the ground.

"Gally here keeps looking for a fight. I think it's time I gave him a proper one." I stated while glaring at the boy below me.

"Enough you two!" Alby shouted.

My head snapped over to him. Those words threw my mind back into the dream I had. I glanced back at Gally who was laying very still. His hands tightly holding my wrists. I let him go and quickly stood.

What the hell is going on? My mind kept bouncing between reality and my dream. The similarities were seriously giving me a headache.

"Take both of them to the pit. Make sure they are next to each other. And no one is aloud to visit them. Make them talk to each other or not at all." Alby ordered angrily.

"The pit?" I questioned looking at Newt who was grabbing my arm.

Two boys went for Gally but he just growled, shoved them off, then stomped around Newt and I to where ever the pits are. Gally knew not to argue with Alby. I could tell just from the look on Alby's face he wasn't the person to cross.

Newt pulled me over to some horrible looking makeshift cells. They were built into the ground. He opened one of them up and gestured for me to get in.

"You've got to be kinding?" I asked staring at the hole in the ground.

"You two broke a big rule. I don't know what your issues are with each other but Alby wants them worked out. So, yes, get inside." Newt said sternly.

I huffed but did as he said jumping inside the small dirt hole. Newt quickly locked me in somehow then opened the one right next to me for Gally.

"Have fun you two." Newt said as he walked away.

—

[justagayguysworld-blog]

Not sure what you will think of this one, but my mind inhabits the most unusual of places.

It was the last beer and we'd shared it on the way to town for another twelve-pack. I barely knew Antonio. He'd only been there a couple of weeks, but it was the damnedest thing I'd ever seen. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, could talk to a horse the way he did. I thought it was a fluke the first time. Then he did it again and I knew it couldn't be natural.

We had a contract with the state for wild mustang management. It wasn't the easiest job in the world, but I liked the outdoors and it beat hell out of watching my old man slap his third or fourth wife around. Maybe Sheila was the fifth; I'd stopped counting or giving much of a shit by that point. For my purposes at nineteen, it was a godsend they'd hired me and paid my bus fare to Utah. We rounded them up, checked them for diseases, tagged them, sold off the limit, gave them their shots and then trucked them back to the desert.

I'd been at the ranch for maybe three months when he came up one night seemingly outta nowhere and sat next to me at the fire. I greeted him in what little Spanish I knew. "Save it, dude. I speak English." And that was that.

One of the stallions was raising bloody hell in the pen and stirring up the other horses. I stood up to see if I could go quiet him down. Antonio braced a hand on my knee and said as he was standing, "Can I borrow that? Thanks." He took the beer out of my hand, turned it up and walked over to the corral with it in his hand. Sitting the bottle on the post, he hopped the fence, picked the bottle up and walked straight over to the hellraiser.

Just walked inside like he owned the place. He was fixing to get trampled to death near as I could tell, when he grabbed that bad boy by his mane and said something. The horse shook its head side to side. Antonio jerked harder on a handful of hair, the horse quieted down and lowered its head. Then the crazy fuck turned up that bottle, and I swear to God, I saw a mustang down the rest of my beer.

Tossing the bottle over, he walked back to the fence and hopped it again like nothing had happened. Picking up the empty he came back to the campfire and said, "Sorry about that. Can I get you another?"

Stunned, I asked, "What the fuck was that about?"

"Horses can smell fear. And some of them like beer." He walked away leaving me gape-jawed and went to the bunkhouse for another round. When he came back with our longnecks, he twisted the lid off one with his forefinger and thumb. I'd never seen anyone do that either.

Bottle in hand, I asked, "Where you from?"

"Can't say exactly. I tend to move around a lot. Guess you could call me a restless spirit." Bending down, he placed the same hand on my knee again to sit like an old man trying to find his bearings and steady himself. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but the chill of his touch radiated through my jeans to my kneecap.

The hand was just as icy when he extended it. "Antonio. What's your name, cowboy?"

"Jason. Jason Sparks. But most people just call me Rufus or asshole. Seems I'm the low man on the totem pole around here."

He laughed and said, "Not anymore. I just blew into town. I'll be working the night shift."

"Night shift? I wasn't aware we had one."

"Yeah, I'm something of a specialist. These positions can be hard to fill. Not everybody can handle an alcoholic horse with bad dreams."

I literally fell off the log laughing. Struggling to get up, Antonio grabbed the collar of my jacket and pulled me back to an upright position. Without any real effort on my part, I found my ass firmly planted on the log again. If he was superman, I didn't see where he could be hiding the muscles. We were about the same size and weight from what I could tell. He chuckled and mumbled something about horses not being the only alcoholics in those parts.

"I'll drink to that. Let me get us one more beer and then I guess I'll turn in for the night. Where are you bunking?"

"Next to you if there's room still available at the inn. Larry said to grab any empty bed I could find. And yours kind of looked like a mess when I was stowing my gear. But at least it didn't smell like shit."

Stopping to take a piss I wondered how he knew which bed was mine, but in the quest for brewskis I'd forgotten the question by the time I returned. As if reading the mind I was in the process of losing, he stated very matter-of-factly, "You don't smell like a cowboy or a horse with a drinking problem."

Not knowing exactly how to or if I should reply, I thought a moment and said, "Generally speaking, I don't go around smelling cowboys or their sheets, and I damned sure ain't smelling a horse's breath to see if they've been drinking."

He must've sensed my unease. Clinking his bottle against mine, he offered, "Sorry, I have a really weird nose. It smells the strangest damned things. Guess that's why I'm good with the horses. I smell what they smell."

"Ain't nothing wrong with your nose, Antonio," I blurted out. "You have a real nice nose. Most of these ugly old bastards have had their's broken in so many bar fights, I don't really want to think about it, much less how they smell."

Bumping his shoulder against mine, he clinked his nearly empty bottle to mine and said, "Yeah, I'll take loving over fighting any time I can. Probably why I get along with the horses and avoid divorces.

We had minimal contact after that. Other than rolling over or the occasional fart, I didn't hear much out of him for the next two weeks. Except in my dreams if I'm going to be perfectly damned honest about this. And generally speaking, I didn't have much of a habit dreaming about other men, at least not in that way. But there he was, more than once, pretty damned specifically. If I'd been anyone else, it would've been hard to ignore. Only I'd learned to master any direct concern for my actual feelings, and dick management had never been an issue for me personally.

The crew I was working was out on range management. I'd barely been back to the place long enough to sleep, much less for fireside chitchat. Then Saturday night came, we were going to take a couple days off and there he was. Just like in my damned dreams. I have no reason to lie. It was disconcerting when I saw him sprawled out there next to the fire. Not a care in the world, acting as if he'd grown up right out of the ground on that very spot, he smiled.

Looking me directly in the eye as if he hadn't invaded my dreams, he said casually as a cousin, "Hey Jason Sparks, if you're going to the house, could you grab me another cold one?" It had been a particularly hard week, I was bone-ass tired and his nose still wasn't broken in six different places. Two beers later we were left alone with a raging fire and the feelings I was experiencing that matched that blaze. I really wanted to kick his ass. Antonio had seriously fucked with my head, and he didn't seem to know or at least care.

He got up for the third round. It wasn't my knee he touched that sent icy shivers up my spine this time. It was my thigh. About three inches below the part that separates the men from the boys. Close enough for discomfort, I met his glaze and that fire was dancing in his eyes. His nose still wasn't broken, but the quiet smirk on his face made me seriously think about rearranging it.

Fucker scratched my head as he walked away like I was some kind of damned puppy in love. Brought back another round and said, "These are the last ones, Jason Sparks. Let's polish them off and make a run into town. I'm still thirsty. If you'll drive, I'll buy."

That was the night and I guess the moment that changed or ended my life. Something deep inside me could hear it slowly rumbling. I'd seen it in those dreams. I simply didn't have the power to say no or the least of will to fight him. And we weren't struggling. I guess that was what's so odd about it. Everything in my body and soul knew it was happening, even if my conscious mind was slow in catching up. I wanted him. I'd be the worst kind of liar if I said I didn't. And I knew he knew it.

He took my hand and pulled me up off the ground. I could've just as easily staggered to my feet of my own accord. But he wanted that ice running through my veins clashing with my toasted toes inside those boots. And I felt it. Felt it thoroughly as we climbed in the truck and started the motor. Only once did he touch my body on the way to the store. It was completely casual and anything but innocent as the shivers raced up and down my spine.

He went in and came out. I felt very strange. Almost in an out-of-body floating feeling I drove away into the darkness of the rural night. I still remember. It was as vivid, quiet and unstoppable as a freight train bearing down on the family sedan stalled on the side of the tracks.

"Pull over." I could've kept driving, but the truth was that I'd pulled over two weeks before. "I said pull over, Jason Sparks." He didn't have to ask again. And the truth, as he very well knew, is that I'd been wanting to pull over my whole life. The cab of the truck was full of echoes and whispers as I floated above my body while it and he crawled into the back seat. Voices were everywhere, the engine was running and for the first time in my life I didn't give a damn.

I thought in some delirious way I was about to kiss a boy, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. My feelings, those secreted desires weren't important. We weren't boys. I'd become a man without realizing or acknowledging it, and that brief period of my life was about to end abruptly.

It was brutal. How could I possibly forget when he folded down the lambswool collar of my jacket and sunk his teeth into my flesh? I could've fought him off, but I'd already struggled my whole life to be something different than what I was. Antonio was reconciling my conflicts, meeting my innermost longings and he'd bought the beer.