#Robert tubing word girl

[ratlordsarah]

unhinged aah history dream I had last night

for some reason, in this dream, I was a 34 year old man living in Ancient Greece named Wallis with a jet black beard and some muscular aah legs, and I had a ginger haired brother named Cornelius (he looked like if amazing rope guy had a glow up)

and basically, I disowned Cornelius for being to annoying when I was 15 in the dream , and we were no longer on speaking terms for some reason, and we had the most Disney ending ever, it was like near the ending of encato where Bruno meets his ma again or something idk 💀

but we worked this job where we had to scavenger for wood planks and rocks in the city states Sparta, Athens, and Troy, in which the boss was a buff version of both Robert tubing from wordgirl and William dafoe 😭

half way through the dream, Tim, tj, and sally botford, as well as dr two brains, glen furlblam, Timmy timbo, the coach, and Chazz from word girl were in California as a meet up, to go visit Ancient Greece. As I am now in the pov of dr two brains, we travel to New Orleans from a magical flat escalator or something, and then we take a several day trip (walking on foot)to Canada , and on the way there, we had to share a single hotel room for some reason

after several days in the dream world, we make it to Canada, where there is a magical portal that takes us back to Ancient Greece, and we hop in.

as we are now in Ancient Greece, dr two brains sees Steven boxleitner, and they have one of those old western stand offs, accept apparently, d2b has schizophrenia in the dream, so you see both in dr two brain’s pov and Sally’s pov where dr two brains is saying “this town ain’t big enough for the both of us” in a southern accent, while gripping a revolver, talking to absolutely no one

anyways, two brains’s hallucination goes away, and he placed a magical box in the middle of Greece, that does nothing, and nothing happens, but anyone who hears about it or comes across it has to put in a passcode for no reason.

I am back into the pov of Wallis again, and I refuse to put in a passcode to see what happens, and dr two brains is screaming “AAAAAAHAGH THERE ARE RATS IN MY BRAIN AAAHAHAG” in which he is being dragged away like a toddler by sally, and Timmy timbo is only speaking Hebrew now, and he is striking up conversations at random Greek people in Hebrew. anyways, the travelers leave, and about 6 months pass by before the Romans take over, and we die for some reason. Also, the Roman’s were literally just a bunch of will woods marching in unison with the helmets and armor on (the Roman will wood army had a New Zealand accent for some reason)

I was so confused when I woke up, because I was genuinely convinced that I was this middle aged Greek guy that was getting conquered by the Romans for a solid 5 minutes 💀

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 3 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna finally agrees to meet her new friends at the bar, she learns pretty quickly that the hot guy from the bookstore is actually Bob Floyd. But the fact that she ran and hid from him, thinking she'd never have to see him again, leaves her feeling mortified, and Bob is left to draw his own conclusions.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Anna took a deep breath as she swiped on some mascara and found her tube of lipgloss. She finally caved and agreed to go to the Navy bar that her friends couldn't stop talking about at lunch every day. She only had about five dollars in her wallet to buy a drink since she sold her car for rent money. She couldn't believe was going to take an Uber all the way to Coronado just to make an absolute fool of herself in front of this Bob character. And worst of all, she was still thinking about the hot guy with glasses from the bookstore. 

"It's okay," she told her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "At least you're absolutely killing it at work. And you're having a good hair day." She dabbed at her lips, but skipped the concealer. Kevin used to love it when she covered up her freckles which made her never want to do it ever again. Every time she thought about him, her heart skipped a beat, but not in the fun way.

She counted to five and said, "Kevin isn't here." Then she put her makeup away and made sure her computer was plugged in so she could mess around online when she inevitably returned to her miniscule apartment within the next hour and a half. "Let's get this show on the road," she muttered. 

The ride to the bar was uneventful, as she was sure the rest of her evening would be as well. Bob sounded like an absolute dream when Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics talked about him. Anna couldn't imagine him being outright rude to her after the two of them said he was sweet and had perfect manners, but she could already tell what his reaction would be: a kind but forced laugh, and maybe a halfhearted smile. And then Anna would probably get to watch him pick up a different girl instead if she didn't leave right away with her proverbial tail between her legs. 

Maybe she should have stayed home.

"Here we are," the driver said as he pulled into a beachside parking lot as the sun started setting over the ocean. "The Hard Deck."

"That was quick," she murmured, wishing she could stay in the solitude of this backseat a bit longer as she climbed out. "Thanks."

The fact that every day in San Diego was warm and beautiful was going to take some getting used to. The weather almost never wavered here unlike back at home. Anna opened the weather app on her phone and scrolled to her saved location in New Jersey, and sure enough, it was raining there. She nibbled on her lip and checked her work email, dragging the toe of her beat up sneaker on the gavel parking lot. 

She was just stalling now, wondering if her friends would even notice if she didn't show up. They just met her two weeks ago; they probably didn't even really like her that much. Her thumb hovered over her rideshare app as she thought about the two other women just going about their business like normal if she never went back to the weird tree at lunchtime. She was inconsequential to their day.

Anna pressed her lips together and tapped the app. There was a car two minutes away, but the guilt of having wasted eighteen dollars to come here in the first place was eating away at her mind. "Damn it," she whispered as she closed out of the app and shoved her phone into the pocket of her snug jeans. She started walking up to the sand covered wood planks that led to the entrance of the bar, and she didn't stop until she was inside. 

Slow Ride was blaring from the sound system, and the place was pretty packed. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust so she could get the lay of the land, and when she did, she realized she was surrounded by mostly men. "Great," she mumbled, earning a few looks, probably because she had barely taken a step beyond the entryway before freezing up. 

But as Anna made her way closer to the bar, a big guy in a khaki uniform winked at her and called out, "Hey, Red!"

She felt her cheeks warm up which was certainly not going to help with that nickname. "Oh no." Deftly, she squeezed her way through the many bodies until she had one hand resting on the bar. Why were all these men so attractive? And why were they looking at her? 

When a different guy next to her turned and saw her, he stuck out his hand and said, "Hey, I'm Jackson."

"Anna," she replied, slipping her smaller hand into his very briefly before trying to take a step back. But she just ended up bumping into someone else. 

"You gotta let me buy you a drink," Jackson told her with a grin. "Seriously. You're already the best part of my night."

Anna swallowed as she looked around for her friends, but she didn't see either of them. "Um... not yet. I'm not a big drinker."

Jackson laughed merrily. "Aww, honey. You came to the wrong place. Hey, Penny!" Anna watched the bartender turn around with her hands full of two martini glasses. "Can you get this one anything she wants on my tab?"

Penny laughed, and said, "You'll have to get in line, Jackson. You're number four on her roster already."

"Damn it!" Jackson complained with a laugh.

Anna's eyes went wide as Penny delivered the two drinks and then came back and leaned on the bar right in front of her. "By the looks of things, you won't have to pay for a single drink all night. So what'll it be?"

Penny had friendly looking eyes that made Anna feel a little more comfortable. "A ginger ale?"

"Coming right up," Penny replied, reaching for a pint glass and the soda dispenser gun without looking away. "I've never seen you in here before, so I feel like it's only fair to warn you that these guys can get a little relentless."

That was literally the last thing Anna wanted to hear right now. Even Jackson hadn't moved an inch away from her, and her hands were starting to sweat as the ginger ale came gliding across the bar. When she wrapped her hand around the cold glass, she told Penny, "I'm actually supposed to meet some friends here. But I don't see them?"

She smiled and said, "Give me a name."

Anna looked down into the bubbles of her drink and muttered, "Jessica Reed?"

The response was immediate but kind. "By the pool table. Where she always is. Oh, and do not challenge her to a game, because she will kick your ass."

Anna laughed as she picked up her drink. "Thank you so much. And um... could you thank whomever paid for my ginger ale?"

Penny nodded as Anna started to head for the pool table. Jackson pouted at her, and the big guy in the uniform called out, "Come back, Red!" She ignored both of them as she fought her way through the crowd, desperately trying not to spill her drink on anyone. There were a lot more khaki uniforms and even some one piece jumpsuit type things that had patches sewn onto them. She read a few of the patches as she got closer to the pool table. Harvard. Omaha. Halo. Those were some weird names. 

"There she is. Anna!" 

She turned her head when she heard her name, and she saw Jessica waving one hand in the air as she juggled a beer and a pool cue in the other. Jessica actually looked happy to see her as she stood there, all wrapped up in the arms of a guy that Anna couldn't fully see yet. And then her other friend was waving both hands in the air, too, so she waved back. "Hi."

Both women squealed, "Hi, Anna!" in unison, and it was honestly one of the nicest sounds Anna had heard in recent memory. She already felt better about being here now, and that's when she caught sight of who she assumed was Jake. And she was momentarily struck dumb. 

The blonde man kissed the side of Jessica's neck and whispered something before releasing her, and then his green eyes met Anna's as he smiled. She decided immediately that he looked like a GQ model, and that was actually pretty fitting for what would pair well with Jessica.

"Hey," Jessica said, reaching for her hand and pulling her closer. "This is my boyfriend, Jake." She gestured over her shoulder to the GQ model who reached his hand out.

"Hi, Anna," he said with a southern drawl. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh. Same," she replied, biting her tongue before she told him she'd never heard of a man who was sweet enough to pack his girlfriend fancy sandwiches and also had the nerve to look like he belonged on a magazine cover.

"And that's Bradley," Jessica said mildly. 

"My god," she whispered to herself. Her other friend was wrapped up in a pair of thick arms that belonged to a man with a mustache and alluring scars that ran along his left cheek and down the side of his neck into his floral shirt collar. He was every bit as good looking as Jake, but he had dark hair and eyes and looked decidedly a little bit rougher around the edges. 

She blushed as she remembered the comment about how he and his wife liked to use math as foreplay in the bedroom. Right now, he kept pulling his wife closer for another hug and kiss while she playfully tried to escape his grasp, and Anna had to look away, because a flash of jealousy hit her like a brick. 

"Hey, Anna," came Bradley's gravelly voice as he finally released his wife, and she shook his hand as well. "Sugar told me you're from New Jersey."

Sugar? Anna was definitely beat red in the face now. "That's right."

He laughed and reached out again for a fist bump. "Way better than all these west coast losers," he said over his shoulder, earning a middle finger from another seriously good looking guy.

"Stop trying to make her think you're cool, Beer Boy," his wife told him with an eye roll before he turned away to talk to the other guy. 

The problem was, Anna already thought they were all devastatingly cool, and now she was standing here like an awkward fifth wheel. "Do you want a beer?" Jessica asked with a smile. "They have Sam Adams."

Anna didn't want to tell her about the scant five dollars in her pocket, and she also didn't want to have to thank one of the random guys who told Penny they wanted to buy her a drink, so she just shook her head. 

Then her other friend said, "Well Bob is up at the bar right now. You just missed him, actually." She was smirking as she added, "He's probably getting himself a ginger ale, but if you want a beer or something else, he'd be happy to get it for you."

She made like she was about to call out his name when Jessica said, "Bob also likes ginger ale. And the bookstore in North Park."

Anna met her eyes before turning and craning her neck. "He does?" she asked softly, thinking about those pretty eyes and wire rimmed glasses and the smell of tea leaves. And then she saw him. He was here! "Oh," she gasped. He was Bob?

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

"Thanks, Penny," Bob said as he accepted his drink. Two of the guys at the bar were talking about a cute redhead, and all he could think about was the girl from the bookshop who decided after probably four minutes and seventeen seconds that she didn't want to talk to him anymore. He wanted to look around for this mysterious, new redhead, because if he was being honest, that was something he really thought was pretty, but what was the point? She was probably already over trying to talk to Bradley or Jake or Mickey.

Yesterday, Bradley told him to start wearing his uniform to the bar if he wanted more girls to talk to him, but Bob wasn't that desperate. He still had this fantasy where he met the girl of his dreams kind of organically. But maybe wearing a Dungeons & Dragons shirt wasn't the best thing he could have paired with his jeans tonight. Jake took one look at it thirty minutes ago and told him to go home and change into something else.

"Your girlfriend likes it," Bob had told him with a smirk, and sure enough a minute later Jessica was making a fuss over it.

But now he was making his way back to the pool table where the two couples were most likely on the verge of being indecent. Seriously, if Bob had to watch Bradshaw's hands all over his wife's rear end for one more minute, he was going to scream. 

Then he saw her, and he nearly dropped his glass of ginger ale on the floor. It was the girl from the North Park bookstore. Red hair, brown eyes, freckles, kissable lips. She was looking back at him in disbelief. 

Oh my god. He was hallucinating. He must be. Jessica was talking to the redhead who wasn't paying an ounce of attention to her, because she was focused on Bob. Her lips curled into a smile, and he thought he'd better make sure. When he glanced to his left and then his right, he didn't see anyone else who could be on the receiving end of that smile besides him. 

"Bob!" called Bradshaw's wife. "Come meet Anna!"

Anna. That was the name of their new friend from the university. They talked about her all the time even though they just met her. They told him he would like her. But this was the girl who wanted that horrible Vonnegut book last weekend. This was the girl Mickey thought he imagined.

Apparently he hadn't stopped walking, because now he was right in front of the three women, and he had three pairs of wide eyes trained on his face. "I remember you," he said softly. "From the classics section." Her lips parted softly, and her pupils went wide as Bob asked, "Are you Anna?"

She nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink beneath her freckles. He almost groaned, because she was so much cuter in person than what his memory supplied. Nothing about her was flashy, which he almost preferred, but there was no way she wasn't the hot girl that those guys at the bar were talking about. 

"I am," she replied. "And you're Bob?"

He glanced at the other two women, wondering what exactly they told her about him. They looked like they were both holding their breath as he held out his hand and said, "I'm Bob Floyd. It's nice to meet you. Again."

"I'm Anna Webber." She bit her lip, a look of embarrassment overtaking her features as she shook his hand gently. Then he remembered that she ditched him last weekend, leaving nothing but the book he'd already devoured in her place like some sort of parting gift. He released her hand abruptly and cleared his throat.

Now she looked a little hurt, but he didn't know what to say. He ran his fingers through his hair, his nerves getting worse by the second as the other two women practically vibrated with excitement on either side of Anna. "Uh, thanks for that book recommendation. I loved it," he said, barely meeting Anna's pretty eyes.

She gasped and asked, "You read it? You actually read it?"

Bob was trying to formulate another coherent response, but the urge to walk out of the bar was very strong. He was already embarrassed right now, and then he heard Mickey's voice as his friend walked over. "Holy shit, she does have red hair and brown eyes."

Mickey seemed to capture Anna's attention for the time being which really grated on Bob's nerves. Nat would never do this to him, and he couldn't wait until she got home from being deployed. Then Bradshaw's wife was in his personal space along with Jessica. "So she was the girl? From the store in North Park?" she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"The one you had instant chemistry with?" Jessica added hopefully. 

Bob swallowed hard. "Yeah," he murmured. "It was Anna. But the two of you need to knock it off now, because it's probably not going to happen. There's just something about me that doesn't translate well. She kind of ditched me at the bookstore."

"What do you mean?" Jessica practically shrieked, and Bob had to hush her. "You're perfect for each other!"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, letting his awkwardness wash over him. "I don't know, Jess."

When he opened his eyes again, Anna was looking at him while she talked to Mickey, and Bob knew it would take even longer to get over the mystery woman now.

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

Anna couldn't believe Bob was the mystery man from the bookstore. Their chance meeting read like a piece of poetry that had no business being in her life, but the fact that she was meeting him for the second time felt something like fate. And she didn't like it. Not one bit. 

He was so handsome, just like Jake and Bradley. Now Anna was wondering what they fed these men in the Navy, because Mickey was very good looking as well. But the more she spoke to him, the more irritated Bob seemed. And she didn't like how his brow was pinching above his glasses. Not compared to the way he'd looked at her in the bookstore. 

Her mind was a mess right now. And then she remembered that she actually ran and hid from Bob last time she saw him. She started to panic and look around, silently coming up with an escape route, but it was too late. 

"Let's play pool?" Jessica asked a bit cautiously, and that was when Anna fully pieced it all together. Her new friends from work were going to think she wasn't attracted to Bob, but that couldn't have been further from the truth right now. Frankly she didn't know what she should do, so she followed everyone over to the pool table.

Well, everyone except for Bob. He remained at the bar alone, and she couldn't really blame him for not wanting to talk to her after the stunt she pulled in the bookstore. But she was only trying to protect herself. Maybe she could explain that to him. 

She was trying to decide if she would have hid from the most attractive man who had given her the time of day in years if she knew it was actually Bob. That's when she set down her empty glass of ginger ale because she was being handed a pool cue and told to team up with Bradley. She went through the motions, playing as well as she could while she chatted with everyone, but she found herself hoping to catch Bob's pretty eyes looking at her. Once she lost and handed the cue to Jessica, she saw him heading her way, and he had a glass of ginger ale in each hand.  

"Anna," he said softly in that voice that left her shivering. She took the drink he offered her and tried to act normal, but she was still so startled by what he said earlier. 

"Did you really read A Room with a View?" she asked quickly before she lost the nerve.

Bob smiled softly and met her eyes briefly before glancing at the floor. "Every word of it."

She bit her lip to keep from screaming. Kevin never once read any of the novels she suggested for him, preferring modern horror monstrosities instead. And then he went and actually turned her life into a horrific monstrosity which she should have probably seen coming. But right here in front of her was Bob who she had actually already met and formed a pitiful crush on, and she couldn't bring herself to say more than, "I'm happy you read it."

He was blushing now as he sipped his own ginger ale before saying, "Yeah, it was great. I wouldn't mind some more of your book recommendations, honestly. As long as you don't try to get me to read that Vonnegut."

"Cat's Cradle," she said with a laugh that had his gaze snapping back up to hers. His eyes were hopeful as she smiled at him, but she rubbed her hand along her forehead and said, "I'm sorry I... vanished. The other day."

"What happened? I told Mickey I needed a minute, and you were just gone."

She wanted to be honest with him, but she didn't know how to explain herself. And now she was starting to feel like she and Bob were in a fishbowl; so many pairs of eyes were looking their way with next to no subtlety. She cleared her throat and decided to avoid his question. "Have you read any Jane Austen?"

He looked a bit disappointed by her response, but he said, "I have not."

"I think you'd enjoy Persuasion. Or Northanger Abbey. What about Virginia Woolf?"

Bob shook his head. "I feel like I'm about to embarrass myself again like I did last weekend at the bookstore, but no, I haven't read either."

Anna practically moaned at his bashful expression and pink cheeks. He smelled so good, it was unbelievable. Why did she feel so drawn to him? Why couldn't she stop herself from taking a step closer when he muttered, "As soon as you said you knew what Cat's Cradle was about, I figured I was in way over my head. The classics kind of elude me. I'm actually more of a poetry buff."

"Poetry?" she gasped, heart pounding at an overwhelming rate as he swirled his glass of ginger ale around with nonchalance. As if he hadn't just said the sexiest thing any man had ever told her. 

"Are the two of you just going to stand here and play footsie all night?"

Anna looked up to see Jake with a smirk on his face right in front of her. She didn't even notice anyone else in her vicinity before he spoke. Bob was shaking his head and already taking a step away from her when she asked, "Do you want me to text you some more recommendations?"

Bob froze and turned to look at her with a soft smile. "That'd be great." When she handed him her unlocked phone, he quickly added his number before handing it back to her. His calloused fingers felt even more exhilarating this time, which was very bad, because she'd already been thinking about the way he accidentally touched her at the bookstore on repeat.

"I'll send you some of my ideas," she muttered, pocketing her phone again before allowing Jake to pull her away toward the pool table again. She tried her best not to let her attention return to Bob over and over again, but she mostly failed. Sure enough, after a while, she saw another woman break the perimeter of the pool table and make a beeline toward Bradley before eventually turning toward Bob. 

She was really pretty with shiny brown hair, and it made Anna uncomfortable when she touched Bob's arm. It wasn't fair. He was so lovely and soft spoken and handsome. He was even wearing a shirt Kevin would have never been caught dead in, but it made Anna smile. In another version of her life, she would have gone for it tonight. Instead she got to watch the brunette woman hand him her phone just like she'd done a few minutes prior. 

"It's pretty late," she said suddenly even though she had no idea what time it actually was. "I'm going to head out."

Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics both looked a little alarmed. "Already?"

"Yeah," she said, setting down her ginger ale and trying to skirt past Bob and the unknown woman. She gave both of her friends a quick hug and said, "I have a lot to prepare for my upcoming classes this weekend."

"Let me walk you to your car," Bob replied immediately, slipping away from the brunette to be closer to Anna. "Maybe you can give me the titles of the Jane Austen books again?" His cheeks were flushed, and the other woman looked annoyed now which did make Anna smile.

"Persuasion and Northanger Abbey," she repeated for him as she started to walk past the bar sending a wave in the direction of the pool table. Bob was following her now as she added, "And I don't have a car, so there's nothing to walk me to."

"Persuasion and Northanger Abbey," he repeated softly to himself. "Will you let me drive you home then?" he asked hopefully. "All I had to drink was ginger ale."

Anna let herself look up at him before she shook her head. "I'll get an Uber, but thanks for offering. It was nice to meet you. Again."

"It sure was," he agreed as he continued to follow her all the way to the door.

With one last glance over her shoulder, she noticed the dark haired woman on her tiptoes looking around for Bob. "Your brunette friend is looking for you," Anna said softly before slipping outside into the cool night air and opening the rideshare app on her phone. Bob didn't follow her any further, and she rode home with disappointment and sadness thrumming through her body. She was out of cheap wine, but at least she had her favorite poetry website to keep her company.

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

Bob groaned as he nudged his glasses up his nose and pressed his fingertips to his eyes until he was seeing stars. "But I like redheads," he moaned to himself. He could not believe it. He really just couldn't get over the fact that tonight of all nights some random woman started to chat him up. Anna could barely look at him to begin with, but now he'd be damn lucky if she actually texted him the book recommendations at all. 

His dream girl was Anna. Anna was the perfect woman he met at the bookstore. Anna was the one he'd been thinking about nonstop, but now he had confirmation that she wasn't into him. That's why she vanished last weekend. That's why she gave him the cold shoulder tonight when he was practically tripping over himself at the sight of her. She was perfect. He was just hopeless. He could keep thinking about her, but what was the point? Now that he knew she worked with his friends, he had to stop this crush in its tracks and try to save face.

"There you are, Robby." A hand snaked around his side to his abs, and he almost jumped a foot in the air. He hated being called that, and he hated that Anna saw this woman talking to him. 

"Hi," he said cautiously, taking a step away from her. 

"Is the redhead your girlfriend?" she asked, clearly annoyed now.

Bob sighed and said, "I wish."

She rolled her eyes and vanished back into the crowd, leaving him alone again. He never imagined he'd have such an eventful night involving the fairer sex. "Damn it," he whispered as he made his way back toward the pool table to his friends. 

"There he is!" Bradley called out with his hands cupped around his mouth. "Big ol' Bob! Did you just give your phone number to not one but two women?"

His wife and Jessica both looked mad now. "I thought you liked Anna," Jessica snapped. "Once we realized she was the redhead from the bookstore, we thought you'd probably end up sneaking off with her or something."

Bob could feel the heat rising in his face. "Come on," he replied, giving Jessica a look. "There's no way that would have happened. And I didn't give that other woman my number. I didn't even want to talk to her." In a softer voice, he added, "She just started touching me for no reason."

Bradley's wife pulled Bob in for a quick hug as she said, "Pretty soon, you'll be as good at dodging them as Bradley is." She looked him in the eye and quietly asked, "Now what happened with Anna?"

"I don't really know." That was his honest answer. "I was excited to see her again. I guess I imagined she vanished in the bookstore like some sort of romanticized Cinderella fairytale or something stupid when in reality she just... kind of got tired of talking to me. She seemed a little uncomfortable when she saw me again tonight, so that must be it."

"I think you're wrong," she said with conviction that almost made Bob believe it himself. "Jess and I will ask her about it next week."

"Please don't," he groaned, shaking his head. "I'm going to go home. See you at D&D tomorrow," he told Jessica before stopping by the bar to pay for the ginger ales, but Penny just waved him on. He left her a ten dollar tip and walked out to his truck. 

It wasn't even that late, and when he parked in front of his duplex, his elderly next door neighbor was still awake with her door propped open for her cat to come back inside. As Bob trudged up the shared walkway with his key in hand, she called out, "Robert! Is that you?"

"Hi, Suzanne," he replied with a laugh. "It's me."

She was sitting on her couch, and he could hear game show reruns playing as she loudly said, "You're home pretty early for a Friday night. Still haven't found a girlfriend?"

Bob groaned. He could kick himself for even mentioning that he wished he had a girlfriend a few weeks ago when he took dinner over for her one Sunday evening. "Still single," he confirmed as he headed for his front door which was all of ten feet away from hers. 

She scoffed, and Bob saw her massive cat, Sylvester, streak back inside. "You must not be trying very hard, Robert. Handsome, strong thing like you."

It was like arguing with his grandma, so he just avoided it completely. "Okay, I saw Sylvester run inside, so I'm going to close your front door. Make sure you lock it before you go to sleep. Good night, Suzanne."

He pulled her door closed for her and then unlocked his, and he walked inside to find his copy of A Room with a View sitting on the coffee table. It seemed to be taunting him like it knew he'd seen the adorable redhead again. And struck out a second time. He was confused and hurt and annoyed, and he just wanted to go to bed and pretend like he wasn't as hopeless as he felt. 

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

These babes need to get themselves straightened out! Anna, he thinks you're not into him! Bob, she's scared to admit she is! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@sylviebell

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Golden Ratio - Part One

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Derogatory language, angst, mentions of parental death, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~4.5k

Chapter summary: Her relationship strains under the pressure of long distance, though she has her classmate, Michael, to help distract from the worst of it. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @assortedseaglass. No tag list. Please follow @ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is sweaty and exasperated as she drags her suitcase over the cobbles of Holywell Street. One of the already precariously wonky wheels had finally given up the ghost and broken off as she’d dragged it up the stairs of Oxford train station, making the fifteen minute walk to her accommodation more tiring than it needed to be.

But she was here, finally. Oxford University.

Her dad had sold the car to make sure she had money to live on until her student loan and maintenance grant had been paid to her. He didn’t want her taking a part time job to make ends meet, she’d worked hard to earn her place here, her focus should be on her studies. Coming from a low income family meant she had qualified for the maximum amount for both maintenance loan and grant, but her first set of application forms had been misplaced by Student Finance, so she’d had to send in a second set, meaning there would be a delay with her first payment.

An unfortunate consequence of her dad not having a car is that she’d had to get the train to London Victoria, a tube to Paddington, then another train to Oxford. But it is not the fact that she is seemingly the only student whose parents aren’t obstructing the pavements with their cars in order to drop them off that makes her feel like an outcast, there is something deeper, more sinister feeling.

She sees it as she struggles to get her bag across the lawn of the Halls, people grouped in little clusters, as though they’ve been friends forever. They dress in Juicy Couture velour tracksuit bottoms and brand name Ugg Boots, while she wears her mum’s old Dr. Martens and a tartan skirt she’d bought in a charity shop for one pound fifty. She doesn’t fit in. She feels she may as well wear the word “poor” across her forehead like a scarlet letter.

Having checked in at the Porters’ Lodge and been given directions to the accommodation, it’s lonely as she unpacks her things, her room feeling empty and quiet. The only sounds are muffled talking and laughter coming through the closed window from outside. She feels lonelier still when she pulls out the framed photo of her and Rich. They’re both smiling, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leans her head against his. It had felt like their relationship would last forever when that picture was taken. That seemed like much less of a possibility over the last couple of weeks.

She had met Rich at the beginning of sixth form. Having attended Chatham Grammar School for Girls, she had decided to stay on there to do her A levels. The mathematics department was decent, and she had heard Russell Group universities were more likely to consider applications that came from grammar schools. Rich had transferred over from Robert Napier School. Where she was shy, quiet and reserved, he was lively, outgoing and sociable. His zest for life had shone a bright light on an existence that was, for her, otherwise dull and grey.

They were an unlikely pairing. She was logical, analytical and studied maths and physics. Rich was creative, free spirited and guided by emotion. He studied art and music. They had been together for two years and she had thought he was the one. But then it came time for UCAS applications, and where she had applied to Oxford, Cambridge and York, Rich had applied to Leeds, Brighton and Glasgow. It seemed that no matter where they were accepted, they were destined to be apart.

When she had received an unconditional offer from Oxford she had been elated, however, the crushing devastation upon hearing Rich had been accepted into The Glasgow School of Art with a conditional offer had quickly dulled her excitement.

She had never felt like an outsider or a loner when she was with Rich. Basking in his sunny disposition had felt effortless, she never felt alone. He was going to take all of that away, and she was unsure of how to cope with it.

“We’ll make it work long distance, don’t worry,” he’d told her, and she’d believed him.

But then he had actually gone to Glasgow. Fresher’s week in Glasgow started a week earlier than it did in Oxford, so Rich had moved away first. It didn’t take long for the texts and phone calls to dry up into nothing. She had heard from him once in the last few days.

She sighs as she slides up the screen of her beaten up Nokia. Still nothing. She had text to let him know she was leaving for Oxford today and he couldn’t even be bothered to reply. She knows it’s his first week at university and he’s likely busy and having fun, but how was long distance going to work if they never actually spoke to each other?

Despite the loftiness of the dining hall, it feels stuffy as she moves through it later that evening, taking a seat at a long table crowded with other students. She had hoped that the Fresher’s welcome dinner would be an opportunity to make friends, but everyone seems to be deep in conversation already. The chatter hums loudly like white noise, until it comes to a sudden stop.

“FUCKIN’ ASK ME A SUM THEN!”

She turns, mouth agape, to look at the pair of boys sitting a few places up from her. One is darked haired and seems nervous and uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly in his seat. The other is blonde, an angry, intense expression on his face, shadows cast across it from the lamplight on the table, as he stares in wide eyed anticipation. It was him who had shouted, clearly.

“Four hundred and twenty three times seventy eight,” the dark haired boy asks quietly.

Instantly his friend replies, without missing a beat, “thirty two thousand, nine hundred and ninety four.”

Involuntarily her eyes widen in surprise. She sits there and does the calculation in her head, though much more slowly than he had. 

Carry the two, eight times two is sixteen, plus two is eighteen, carry the one…he’s right. How is it possible that he came to that answer so quickly?

When her gaze lifts he is looking at her, observing her doing the working out in her head. He holds her stare, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth. He knows she knows he is right, and it’s clear he feels smug about it.

Quickly looking away, she reaches for her water glass, wanting something, anything, to distract her. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel uneasy.

God, I hope I don’t have any classes with him.

She holds her timetable for the week in her hands as she moves her way through the corridors towards the lecture hall the following morning. The first week looks to be fairly light touch, with an introductory lecture for each of the courses; algebra, analysis, probability and statistics, geometry, dynamics and multivariable calculus. Today is the introduction to analysis, and she is excited to study under the tutelage of Professor Helen Byrne. Her research focuses on the development and analysis of mathematical and computational models that describe biomedical systems, with particular application to the growth and treatment of solid tumours, wound healing and tissue engineering. Professor Byrne is someone she has admired within the field for as long as she can remember, and she is very much looking forward to her tutorials with her.

Her excitement fades when she enters the lecture hall and immediately sees the angry guy from the previous evening.

Just my luck.

The only available seat is next to him, so she sits down, dropping her bag to the floor by her feet.

A hand extends out towards her in her peripheral vision, taking her by surprise and she turns in her seat towards it, shrinking back slightly. 

He seems utterly unperturbed by her reaction, keeping his arm extended. “I’m Michael Gavey.”

She blinks, regaining her composure as she leans forward, shaking his hand and introducing herself in return. His palm is clammy against her own, and she can still feel it there even after having let go and wiped her hand on her jeans.

“I saw you last night,” he says matter of factly, pulling his arm back and resting his elbow on the desk in front of him.

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a tight smile, nodding, “so you and your mate…is that like a party trick or something?”

“No, no party trick,” he says with a demure smile. “I’m a genius.”

She forces herself to laugh politely, assuming he’s making a joke, but she stops, her brow furrowing slightly when she sees he doesn’t share in the humour. He’s being serious.

Opening her mouth to ask a follow up question, she’s interrupted as Professor Byrne sweeps into the room. Her and Michael both face forward in their seats as she introduces herself to the class.

Over the next hour they are given an introduction to the course and what to expect in their first year, including an overview of the papers they will need to write and examinations that will be sat. She pays rapt attention, scribbling furious notes, until the lecture begins to wrap up.

“As it’s the first week, I will go easy on assignment setting,” Professor Byrne tells them all, “but there will be an assignment nonetheless.”

A loud, collective groan echoes around the lecture hall. Her and Michael are the only two not to join in.

“Now, now, settle down,” she chastises, “it’ll be fun. I’m sure you’re all aware of the Fibonacci Sequence, a series of numbers where each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers. Mathematically we can describe this as–”

She turns and scrawls xn= xn-1 + xn-2 on the chalkboard, before facing the students again.

“--I’d like you all to find an example of the Fibonacci Sequence in real life and present it back to the class during next week’s lecture. You’re to work in pairs, so buddy up, and see you all next week.”

Professor Byrne places the chalk back on the desk before striding back out of the lecture hall. The room is instantly a buzz with chatter, as people move between seats to find a partner.

She stays rooted in place, suddenly wishing Rich was here. It’s in moments like these that he flourishes, allowing her to take a backseat as he effortlessly navigates them through social interactions. Instead, she is alone and the space around her feels bigger and scarier with every moment that passes.

It’s only when she turns her head that she notices Michael has yet to move too. Gathering all the courage she can muster, she clears her throat and speaks to him.

“So…er…did you wanna partner up for this thing then?”

“I don’t like to work with others,” he says matter of factly, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” she says with a sigh, “but for this assignment we have to.”

“You’ve picked me because I’m a genius. You’ll expect me to do all the work while you get pissed with your mates.”

He fixes her with an accusatory stare, and she feels the heat of anger prickle her skin.

“Haven’t got any mates,” she mutters darkly.

He observes her for a few moments, elbow propped on the desk, jaw resting against his fist, and she fidgets self consciously in her seat. No wonder the other boy from last night had looked so uncomfortable. It feels like he’s studying her.

“Let’s go to the library,” he says simply, standing and picking up his bag.

“So, you’re a genius?” She asks, opening her notebook once they’re seated opposite each other at a table in the library, nervously tapping her pencil against the page.

“Hmm,” Michael nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, “I don’t even like maths, really. I can just…do it. Anything. In my head.”

She’s struck by how blunt he is, sucking in a breath as she considers what to say next. There is something so disarming about him, she gets the sense he’s analysing her every word and action.

“Right,” she begins, “so, er, for this assignment I was thinking about how Leonardo Fibonacci used rabbits to prove his theory. One hundred and forty four pairs of rabbits can be produced from a single pair of rabbits in a year, based on the sequence.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Michael replies with a sigh.

“What?” She asks irritably, annoyed by his dismissal.

“What are you expecting us to do, go to a pet shop and buy rabbits? We’ve only got a week to do the assignment, we need to be more practical.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was using that as an example, not saying we do that exactly! Come on then, genius, what’s your suggestion?”

“Spirals,” he says with a slight shrug. He leans across, placing the tips of his fingers on her notebook and sliding it towards himself, before picking up her pencil. “There is a special relationship between the Fibonacci numbers and the Golden Ratio, a ration that describes when a line is divided into two parts and the longer part - A - divided by the smaller part - B - is equal to the sum of A + B divided by A, which both equal one point six one eight. This is represented by the Greek letter,” he stops to scribble a φ on the pad. “The ratio of any two successive Fibonacci Numbers approximates the Golden Ratio value.” He stops again, scrawling 1.6180339887 on the page. The bigger the pair of Fibonacci numbers, the closer the approximation. From there, we can calculate what's called the golden spiral, or a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor equals the golden ratio.”

She is stunned into a silence for a moment, a combination of his audacity to simply take her belongings, and awe at the rapidity with which his mind works. Collecting herself, she blinks a few times, looking up into his eyes.

They’re so blue.

“So…er…how do you propose we present this data back to the class?”

“A simple table is sufficient, look–”

His hand moves rapidly over the page, a complete table there on the paper when he drops the pencil into the gutter of the notebook and sits back in his chair.

“We present that,” he tells her, his eyes fixed on the page. “Using the values of the sequence as the edge length of squares arranged in the table, a spiral is generated.”

She leans over, sliding the notebook back to her side of the table, marvelling silently at his work. He is fascinating to watch. He’s right, he can just do maths.

“It’s good,” she says, eye flitting up to meet his, “solid. But it’s fucking boring.”

This time it’s his turn to be annoyed. “What?” He asks, eyes narrowing.

“Everyone is going to present something like this, because it’s easy,” she explains, “Don’t you want to stand out to Professor Byrne? We should do something outside of the box.”

“Hmm. Go on then, what are you thinking?” He rests his cheek against his fist, leaning against the table as he stares at her.

She feels herself grow warm under his scrutiny.

Does he always have to be so bloody intense?

“There are loads of examples of Fibonacci numbers appearing in nature. We could look for some? Flowers, perhaps.”

“I’ve got hayfever,” Michael states simply.

She sighs.

Of course you do.

“Then we’ll get you some Piriton! Come on, there are studies that show seed heads, pinecones, fruits and vegetables all displaying spiral patterns that when counted express Fibonacci numbers. This fits perfectly with the brief of the assignment and will leave a lasting impression.”

He moves his hand away from his face, resting his arm flat on the table and quietly drumming his fingers against it for a few moments. “Alright then,” he finally concedes.

“Great,” she grins excitedly, tearing out a page from her notebook and writing on it hurriedly. “Here’s my number, so we can meet up to work on it, and also my Hotmail address, in case MSN works better for you.”

He huffs through his nose as he takes the paper from her, a soft laugh escaping him. “The countess at hotmail dot co dot uk,” he reads with amusement, “very droll.”

“Shut up,” she grins back, “I made that in secondary school. Thought it was funny.”

Back in her room that evening, she’s excited to see she has a text from Rich, finally.

Hope ur enjoying it. Having so much fun here!

She sighs, throwing her phone down on the bed side table. No kisses, not even an “I love you”. 

Watching out of the window, she sees the giggling groups of students making their way out into town, readying themselves to spend the night drinking, making friends and having fun. Just like Rich is doing, not giving her a second thought, while she stays cooped up in her room without a friend in the world.

Suspicion nags at her, so she turns on her laptop, loading up MySpace. Rich takes number one place on her top eight friends, and she clicks on his profile. It looks much the same as it always does, but she decides to snoop further, clicking into his friends list. She can see he has recently friended a girl named Sophie.

Sophie is pretty, bright pink streaks in her hair, and a nose ring. Exactly Rich’s type. Her most recently uploaded photos are of groups of people, clearly all taken during Fresher’s week. A pit forms in her stomach as she sees that in almost all of them Sophie and Rich have their arms around each other. Worse still, Rich occupies space eight in Sophie’s top friends.

She closes the browser, blinking back tears. Surely, she is just being paranoid. They’re just friends. Friends have photos together, and it was normal that he would make new ones when he went away to uni.

Opening MSN Messenger, she hovers over Rich’s username. Unsurprisingly, he’s offline, he always is these days. She smiles when an add request from mgavey628318@hotmail.co.uk pops up. Of course he’d have Tau, the mathematical constant, in his Hotmail address. She clicks accept and he immediately appears in her online contacts. Looks like he isn’t out tonight either.

Double clicking his username, she chuckles to herself upon seeing his display picture is of Pythagoras. Such a dweeb.

“Want to work on our assignment tomorrow?” She types to him.

Barely a few seconds pass before she sees him typing back. “Yes. When?”

“We could meet at the Water Meadow at lunch time?”

“See you then.”

Straight to the point, no idle chit chat. She shakes her head and closes the messenger window, though finds herself strangely excited by the thought of seeing him tomorrow. She reasons that it’s because Michael is the closest thing she has had to a friend since arriving at Oxford.

She visits the nearby Tesco Express the following day, buying a meal deal for each of them and a packet of hayfever tablets for Michael. She has no idea of what Michael even likes, so plays it safe by buying a bottle of Oasis, a Crunchie bar and a ham and cheese sandwich for them both.

At precisely noon, Michael stands at the entrance to the Water Meadow waiting for her. She smiles as she looks at his t-shirt; maroon with a diagram of a circle on a gradient with a downwards acceleration of 9.81 meters per second, with the slogan “that’s how I roll”. A mechanics pun.

“Like your shirt,” she says as she approaches him.

He grins. “Thought you might, considering your email address.”

She averts her gaze. There is something about the fact that he’d thought of her when he’d chosen what to wear today that makes her tummy flutter.

Stop it. You’ve got Rich. Michael’s weird!

“I got you some hayfever tablets,” she tells him as they start to walk along the pathway that’s flanked by green space on either side. “Do you wanna have lunch first and then start looking for flowers?”

They settle, cross legged on the grass, Michael already having taken one of the tablets, chased with half a bottle of Oasis, and she spreads out the food between them.

She watches in fascination as his eyes widen at the sight of the Crunchie bars, snatching one up and tearing off the wrapper. Her mouth falls open slightly as she sees him hold it sideways, biting into it from the side, before devouring each of the pieces it inevitably breaks into.

“You like Crunchie bars then?” She asks, a little grossed out, but curious nonetheless.

He swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mother didn’t allow me to have sweets growing up, bad for your teeth, she said.”

She nods, a feeling over pity replacing the disgust that had roiled her stomach just seconds ago.

“So, is it your mum that pushed you into studying maths?” She asks, fiddling with the lid of her drink bottle.

“Sort of,” he says. “Mother never married, but she wanted a child. She used a sperm donor - a physicist, apparently - and was artificially inseminated to have me. She was thrilled when I showed a natural aptitude for maths, and has always encouraged me. It’s why I do it, why I accepted the scholarship, to make her proud. She’s been through so much to have me, it’s the least I owe her.”

Her face falls, a feeling of sadness overwhelming her, making her heart ache for Michael. There is something so tragic about the fact that he has lived his entire life adhering to the expectations of the person who had created him for their own selfish want of a child.

“What about you then?” He asks. “The bank of mummy and daddy paying for you to be here?”

She shakes her head. “I earned my place, just like you did, with straight As, though I don’t have a scholarship. Have had to take out loans to cover the cost. It’s just me and dad since mum passed away.”

“Oh,” Michael says, blinking rapidly, obviously surprised. “Apologies, I’d assumed a pretty girl like you would be the same as the rest of the vapid cunts studying here, if you can call it studying.”

She hums in acknowledgement, considering his words, turning her own Crunchie bar around in her fingers, focusing on the way the foil wrapper slides against her skin. His compliment makes her heart beat more rapidly, even if it is backhanded. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve got no mates. It was always Rich that was better at that sort of thing.”

“Rich?” Michael asks curiously, cocking his head.

“My boyfriend. He’s at uni in Glasgow.”

“Three hundred and sixty two point nine miles,” Michael states simply.

“Pardon?”

“That’s the distance between Oxford and Glasgow,” he explains, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How are you planning to make a relationship work with that sort of distance?”

“We’re doing long distance,” she argues, feeling herself growing defensive, scowling at him.

“Yeah, I bet that’s gonna work out great,” he scoffs, eyes widening, clearly mocking her.

“The Glasgow School of Art was the best choice for Rich to study what he wants to,” she retorts.

A grin spreads across his face. “Art?! I suppose you should be grateful he’s hundreds of miles away then, he sounds like a moron.”

She huffs, hurriedly shoving her things back into her bag. “Let’s just look for these fucking flowers and get this over with.”

The pair work for the rest of the afternoon in silence, the atmosphere is tense and angry, but they are productive nevertheless, settling on a patch of sunflowers to use for the assignment.

They look at the spirals of seeds in the center of the sunflowers and observe patterns curving left and right. Counting these spirals, their total is a Fibonacci number. They then divide the spirals into those pointed left and right to get two consecutive Fibonacci numbers.

Cutting down a couple of sunflower heads to use as examples, Michael also makes a diagram in his notes for them to present with their findings.

She feels satisfied by the time they part ways, but an uneasy feeling has settled over her that has dread gnawing into her gut as she thinks about Michael’s criticism of her and Rich’s long distance relationship.

Unsurprised to see she has no missed calls or texts from him when she goes back to her room, she opens up her laptop and logs back onto MySpace. This time when she looks at Rich’s profile her blood runs cold as she sees that Sophie now occupies space number three in his top friends. He’d had time to log on and change the position of a girl he’d met a couple of weeks ago, but couldn’t be bothered to send her a single message?

Before she can stop herself, she’s pulling out her phone and calling his number. She doesn’t care if this wastes all of her credit, she needs answers.

It rings for ages, and she anticipates being sent to voicemail, until he eventually answers, sounding breathless and distracted.

“H-hello?”

“Rich, it’s me,” she says quietly.

There’s a pause before he answers. “Oh…how’s my little nerd? Everything okay?”

She ignores the familiarity, keeping her tone neutral. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

Not giving him an opportunity to respond, she pushes on. “Has something happened between you and this Sophie girl I’ve seen you on Myspace with?”

Another pause, except this time she hears him inhale a deep breath. “I was going to tell you when we came home for Christmas break. It felt wrong to break up with you over the phone.”

It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away, her heart twisting painfully as her vision blurs with tears. She swallows thickly, anger bubbling alongside her devastation, so that her tone is venomous when she replies “So, you were just gonna keep stringing me along for two months, so you could look like a good guy?!”

“Babe, no, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just–”

“You’re a piece of shit,” she cuts him off, “fuck you!”

She hangs up, chucking her phone down onto the bed, and immediately bursts into tears, holding her head in her hands as hot tears stream down her face, her shoulders shaking as her nose grows snotty.

Two years. Two fucking years and he’d chucked it all away for someone he’d known for two weeks.

She walks towards the sink in her room, looking into the mirror and sighing at her reflection. Her eyes are red and puffy, she looks a mess. Splashing cold water onto her face to rid herself of the worst of it, she then flops down onto her bed, opening her laptop.

Immediately she is met with her MSN chat window with Michael from the previous evening. He’s online.

Without thinking, she types out a message to him.

“Do you have any alcohol?”

Within seconds he’s typing a response.

“Would you like me to have alcohol?”

[topguncortez]

Brosectomy - J. Seresin

pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x shy!wife characters: Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC!Wife (Valerie), Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Alex Seresin, Ella Seresin, Eli Seresin, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace warnings: vasectomy, crude language (?), Jake and Javy are dramatic, Jake post-surgery word count: A/N: I saw these tiktoks about Link and Rhett's brosectomy, and now here we are:) And here's a little break from all the whump

|| masterlist || Opposites Attract World || library page ||

When Jake and Y/N found out they were expecting not one, but two children, Jake knew that it was time to get a vasectomy. Y/N had mentioned getting her tubes tied after Eli, but Jake didn't want her to make a decision that would be so permanent when they weren't sure if they were totally done having kids. He also didn't want her to have an extra surgery that would take her longer to recover from, when he could get a local anesthetic and be done within an hour and be able to run after the kids that same day.

Jake wanted to wait until at least after the twins were born to get the surgery, wanting to make sure that he would be able to help. But then he changed his mind when Coyote explained he was also looking into the surgical option.

Coyote and his wife Valerie had three kids under the age of three, and were done for the time being. And Jake couldn't blame them. He was happy that him and Y/N had spaced their kids out by three years.

Y/N and Valerie were sitting in the kitchen as their kids played together. Y/N was the closest with Valerie out of all the wives/partners of the group. She had known her the longest and was Alex's godmother. Y/N felt like she was ready to pop being nearly seven months pregnant with the twins. Valerie was in the middle of telling some story about her oldest girl, Jenna face planting down the stairs when Jake walked in.

“We’re getting a brosectomy,” Jake announced and opened the fridge to get a water out, handing one to Coyote who trailed in behind him.

“A what?” Y/N asks, turning to face the boys.

“A brosectomy,” Coyote repeats.

“Got that, Javy… what exactly is that?” Valerie asks.

“A vasectomy with the bros,” Jake smiles, “Val, Javy here tells me that you two have talked about him getting the ol snip, and well if i even mention having another baby, this missus right there looks ready to commit murder.” Y/N and Valerie shared another look at Jake’s explanation, “So why not go through this stage of life with your bro. Javy and I have done damn near everything together.”

“What brings two guys closer than cutting your swimmers off,” Javy shrugs.

“The two of you literally fly death machines together,” Y/N pointed out, “But I mean… it’s your bodies, your choices.”

“I agree with Y/N. At least a vasectomy is reversible if we want more kids,” Valerie said. Jake gave Y/N a look and wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

“Don’t even think about it Seresin, five is enough,” Y/N said pointing a finger at him, and if as right on que, three blonde haired Seresin children came running in, followed by three dark haired Machado children.

"How fast can you get this appointment?"

Jake got the appointment very quickly. Having already researched an arsenal of surgeons in the area, him and Coyote chose one that they both liked, and made appointments for as soon as possible. They schedule time off work, the doctor recommended at least 10 days totally off work and another week or so of no flying. Jake thought he was going to die not being able to fly for three weeks, but he told himself it was a small price to pay compared to the intensive labors Y/N had gone through.

Phoenix was watching the Seresin kids as Y/N sat in the small room with Jake. He was cursing up a storm about having to wear the hospital gown, but Y/N found it hilarious. She had become a near expert about hospital gowns and always came prepared. Jake climbed up on the small exam table with a sigh, and Y/N giggled.

"You think this is funny?" He said looking over at her, "Some doctor is about to come in here and cut my balls off."

"Okay, you are not a dog," Y/N said rolling her eyes, "And it's just a clip on the-"

"I know, I remember the video," Jake shuddered. He waited a moment before looking over at his pregnant wife, "Is it weird to be sad?"

"No, I don't think it's weird," Y/N said, and leaned over the best she could to run her fingers through his hair, "It's a big thing. It's a life changing thing, really. Means no more babies," She looked down to her very round stomach.

"It's really the end," Jake sighed, "But it doesn't mean we still can't practice." He gave her that classic Hangman smirk and wink.

"Once you start shooting blanks, we can," Y/N sat back in her chair as there was a knock on the door. She smiled as Jake's doctor and Coyote came trailing into the room, "Doctor Miller."

"Y/N, Jake, you ready for this?" Doctor Miller asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Jake sighed and shifted on the exam table, "Give me the ol' snip, doc!"

"I think that's my cue to leave," Y/N giggled. Coyote helped her stand up from the chair and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "Val already out there?"

"Yep, so is Bob, Rooster, Payback and Fanboy," Coyote said and Y/N gave him a questioning, "Moral support."

"Oh good god, you would think you two are about to have brain surgery with the dramatics," Y/N rolled her eyes, "I'll see you in an hour," Y/N said to Jake and he nodded, "I love you."

"I love you too," Jake said and kissed his wife.

Y/N said a goodbye to Coyote and Doctor Miller before going out to the waiting room with Valerie. She sighed as she sat down next to the woman.

"We are married to two of the most dramatic men I have ever met," Valerie joked.

"Their mothers deserve an award," Y/N smiled.

It was nearly an hour later when Doctor Miller came out to tell the two wives that their husbands surgeries were complete and they were in recovery. Y/N waddled her way down to the recovery room that Jake was in. She giggled at the look on his face and the ice pack pressed to his groin area.

"I'm glad you find my pain funny," Jake slurred.

"I'm sorry, baby," Y/N said and walked over to her husband. Jake sat up a bit and put his hands on either side of growing belly.

"I did this cause I am a true man and true men do this for their wives," Jake said to her bump. Y/N had to bite back her laughter, "Even if one of you are, or both of you, are girls, you make your man get the cut. Or if you are boys, you get the cut for your wives."

"Okay Mister True Man," Y/N said and Jake looked up at her eyes. His pupils were slightly dilated, probably from the pain meds he was given. He had a lazy smile on his face as he leaned up to kiss his wife, "How are you feeling?"

"Amazing," He sighed and laid back on the bed, "Javy saw my dick, said you're a lucky woman."

"Oh my god," Y/N blushed.

"You are! The luckiest, ever. And now we can fuck all the time and not have to worry about kids. Even though they are a blessing and I love them so very much. We can raw dog it all the time now," Jake gave his wife a lazy smirk and she shook her head, "What!? You like it when I hit it raw." He reached down and grabbed his wife's ass making her squeal.

"Jacob Thomas Seresin!"

[double-j]

*STARDUST REBLOG CHALLENGE NOVEMBER WEEK 4 MASTERLIST*

[FOR ALL FICS, CHECK THE STARDUST REBLOG CHALLENGE TAG]

*reminder to please heed the author’s warnings on individual fics!*

~ splitting the list up into weeks this month because the post editor has been giving me a hard time ~

feel like i was MIA from tumblr so much this last week and have so much catching up to do next week ahhhhhh

TGM: JAKE HANGMAN SERESIN FICS

forever winter from @hufflepuffprincesse

operation apollo p. 10, p. 11, p. 12, & p. 13 from @sunlightmurdock

no words from @a-reader-and-a-writer

$1 and a tube of lip balm (from the douche bag jar series) from @jupitercomet

my girl p. 1 & p. 2 from @/ereardon

a little bit of christmas from @/archivallyfound09

leaving (from the best benefits series) from @writercole

the professor p. 12 & p. 13 from @/topguncortez

i'll carry my bags just until i can hold you again p. 3, & p. 4 from @theharddeck

double tap (a re-read because it is perfection) & sfumato from @rolycolysficrecs

baby, i'm high octane p. 1 from @laracrofted

more hearts than mine p. 9, & p. 10 from @fandomxpreferences

what to expect prologue from @/topguncortez

green with envy from @imjess-themess

conveniently yours p. 1 & p. 2 from @thesluttyarchivist

hold on loosely from @wombtotombx

TGM: BRADLEY ROOSTER BRADSHAW FICS

my future in you p. 13 & p. 14 from @/sunlightmurdock

"man, fuck that guy. go show her what she's missing" from @topguncortez

the deployment diaries p. 8 from @roosterforme

come back p. 10, p. 11, & p. 12 from @ereardon

one for the history books p. 14 from @pisupsala

hard hitter from @bradshawsbitch

TGM: ROBERT BOB FLOYD FICS

annie's song from @/topguncortez

in a twist from @thebirdandthebee

TGM: MISC. FICS

something in-between p. 6 from @archivallyfound09 (love triangle w/ jake & bradley)

safe zone prologue, p. 1, p. 2, & p. 3 from @/sunlightmurdock (love triangle w/ jake and bradley)

ivy p. 3 from @perpetuelledaydreaming (love triangle w/ jake and bradley)

NHL FICS

that which we are, we are p. 4 from @spine-buster (n.mackinnon)

to sail beyond the sunset p. 4 from @/spine-buster (s.crosby)

BINGO

[mirandamckenni1]

Liked on YouTube: Fear of Trans Bodies || https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yt2QPnhqIuI || Get a year of Nebula + Curiosity Stream for under $12 (42% off): https://ift.tt/yu7Dmns Watch this video ad-free on Nebula: https://ift.tt/aksDNAQ - What does it mean for a body to be damaged? - Support the channel on Patreon: https://ift.tt/8ubzfXm Twitter: https://twitter.com/lily_lxndr Letterboxd: https://ift.tt/mbqnyrZ Instagram: https://ift.tt/PQZOWV5 - References 1. “On the Outside Looking In” by Julia Serano: https://ift.tt/GR0D1IC 2. “Irreversible Damage” by Abigail Shrier: 3. “Tracing the Roots of Pop Culture Transphobia” by Lindsay Ellis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHTMidTLO60 4. Breast cancer risk in transgender people receiving hormone treatment: nationwide cohort study in the Netherlands https://ift.tt/YGoeaQZ 5. “What’s so Good about Being Natural?” by Nour Abi-Nakhoul: 6. Hormone Replacement Therapy Market Worth $35.79 Billion by 2030: https://ift.tt/ONbmX94 7. Global Anti Aging Market Size Worth $120 Billion by 2030 at a 7.5% CAGR: https://ift.tt/wmaVSlN 8. Female voice changes around and after the menopause--an initial investigation: https://ift.tt/TCZc4tv 9. “Ten Stages of Genocide” by Gregory H. Stanton: https://ift.tt/LFT7uC0 Media used “It Was Hot, We Stayed in the Water (STEMS Version)” by The Microphones “Transphobic Techno (B**** Got a P****)” by Your Favorite Martian “Back to the Future” by Robert Zemeckis Several videos by TT Exulansic “I Emailed my Doctor 133 Times - The Crisis in the British Healthcare System” by Philosophy Tube Twitter vent by KC Miller “Network” by Sidney Lumet “Synecdoche, New York” by Charlie Kaufman “RaeLynn - God Made Girls” by TK McKamy “The Final Exit of the Disciples of Ascensia” by Jonni Phillips Backxwash live set - M for Montreal 2021 “The Queen” by Frank Simon Inspirations “Health Communism” by Beatrice Adler-Bolton and Artie Vierkant “My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamounix” by Susan Stryker “Should Have Known Better” by Sufjan Stevens Everything ever released by The Microphones & Mount Eerie “There is no other world, and there has never been.” Correction: 33:31 The sale actually ends January 2nd, 2023. After that, my link gives a smaller discount.

[xtruss]

The US' First Test Tube Baby

— Test Tube Babies | Article

Judy Carr is wheeled out of the hospital holding her daughter Elizabeth Carr.

More than eight years had passed since America’s first attempt at a test tube baby. Amid controversy and limitations on federal funding, the United States had languished behind while 14 other children were born in England and Australia using the new technique. That all changed on December 28, 1981, when Doctor Howard Jones stepped into a Norfolk, Virginia, conference room and uttered three magic words: “It’s a girl.”

First Efforts

Since the failed Del-Zio attempt in 1973 at one of New York’s top hospitals, in vitro fertilization (IVF) research had moved to the peripheries of American science, conducted in institutions outside the medical mainstream. One of these was the Eastern Virginia Medical School in Norfolk, Virginia, where two retired doctors from Johns Hopkins, Howard and Georgeanna Jones, opened an IVF clinic in March 1980. The Joneses, who had helped British scientist Robert Edwards conduct IVF back in 1965, had watched as Edwards’s work progressed. He brought the first test tube baby, Louise Brown, into the world in 1978. The Joneses wanted to match his success, and so they followed Edwards’ suggestions as to how to proceed, avoiding putting patients on fertility drugs and conducting implantation of the fertilized eggs into patients only at night. For the first year, nothing worked. The techniques were so new and untested that no one was really sure of the ideal process. Then Georgeanna Jones decided that they would need to follow their own protocol and start using fertility drugs to help stimulate egg production after all.m

Who Were the Carrs?

They were a young couple desperate to have children, so when fertility doctors Howard and Georgeanna Jones said they could help, the Carrs jumped at the chance. Only later did Judy and Roger discover they were also becoming pioneers.

Stricken With Infertility

Judy and Roger Carr met at the University of Maine and married in 1973. Judy, who was majoring in child development, and Roger, who came from a large family, both wanted children, and as soon as she graduated, they started trying. Judy became pregnant right away, but suffered from an ectopic pregnancy, where the embryo begins to grow in the fallopian tubes rather than the uterus. The condition requires surgery and can be life threatening; in Judy’s case, her doctor estimated that internal bleeding had left her about ten minutes from death. The surgery also involved the removal of the affected fallopian tube, leaving her with a single healthy one. Judy and Roger tried again, but a second ectopic pregnancy cost her part of the remaining tube, and a third resulted in another ambulance ride and more emergency surgery. “I have good news and bad news,” the doctor told Judy. “The good news is, you’re alive. But the bad news is, you will never have children.”

New Hope in Norfolk

Ironically, the very thing that prompted the doctor’s statement — the removal of Judy Carr’s last fallopian tube — also made her a good candidate for the emerging field of in vitro fertilization (IVF), since she could no longer conceive naturally. The Carrs had heard about Louise Brown, the world’s first test tube baby, but they didn’t connect her birth circumstances with their own situation. In Judy’s words, it “wasn’t even a blip on the radar screen.” Furthermore, IVFhad never been successfully attempted in the U.S. — and was in fact illegal in Massachusetts, where they had settled. While recovering from her surgery, Judy was given a pamphlet about a new clinic formed in Norfolk, Virginia, by retired Johns Hopkins doctors Howard and Georgeanna Jones. The pamphlet didn’t give many details, but Judy and Roger were willing to try, so she got her doctor to write a recommendation and then one day received a phone call at the school where she taught fifth grade. “How soon can you be in Norfolk?” the voice said

The First Pregnancy

From the opening of their clinic, the Joneses had been besieged by applicants wanting to have children. Judy Carr was considered a good candidate because her fallopian tubes had been removed, so there was no possibility of her getting pregnant the old-fashioned way. She was also young, in her late 20s, and thought to have a better chance of becoming pregnant. In March 1981, Judy started taking the fertility drug Pergonal, which required her to drive 20 minutes to a hospital three times a day for the injections. After three weeks of this, Judy flew to Norfolk, where she had some eggs surgically removed. To everyone’s surprise, they started growing very rapidly, forcing a quick trip from her husband down to Norfolk to provide the sperm. On April 17, Judy’s 28th birthday, a fertilized egg was implanted in her uterus as clinic staffers sang “Happy Birthday.” A few weeks later, Judy took a test that confirmed she was pregnant with America’s first test tube baby.

The First Birth

Fearful of too much publicity and aware that an IVF pregnancy in France had ended in miscarriage, the Joneses decided to keep Judy’s identity under wraps. Howard gave a press conference announcing the pregnancy but stating that personal details would be kept secret. Meanwhile, Judy, who remained in Norfolk for the last month of her pregnancy, stayed in a condominium under an assumed name. The Carrs decided to share the news with only close family and friends. Judy believed her child would be healthy, but she was acutely aware that any problems would “certainly set back the future of IVF in the United States.” So she and Roger did what they could to avoid publicity. The planning worked, and the media never got wind of her identity. But the Joneses had other things to worry about. Ultrasounds revealed that the baby’s head was quite small, a possible sign of birth defects. And Howard knew that if America’s first test tube baby had problems, that would give ammunition to the many critics who considered IVF unnatural and immoral — it might even halt IVF in the U.S. So he prayed that the baby would be okay, scheduled delivery by Caesarian section for the morning of December 28, 1981, and wrote out a press release listing what he would say if something went wrong. Fortunately, that press release remained in Howard’s pocket. Elizabeth Jordan Carr was born at 7:46am; “a wonderful baby,” her neonatologist gushed at the initial news conference. “There was clapping and cheering in the room,” Judy remembered, “and a lot of tears.” Roger had “such a feeling of relief, such a feeling of joy, that the journey had finally ended. We’d finally been blessed.” America’s first test tube child grew up happy and healthy.

[spiderh0rse]

I forgot that an episode in the show mentioned Professor Boxleitner! Robert Tubing is a neat character too, I'd absolutely recommend the episode. It's A Game of Cat and Mouse.

[writefinch]

Cheerleader Ransom, Pt.3 (CN: noncon, bondage, electricity)

Robert fumbled the disc, knocking it twice against the face of the DVD player before pushing it in. Even his sweat stank of vodka now, he'd been drinking, he'd had to drink this much to even open up the package. Sobriety was a fuel to burned up each day like chipped fatwood on a bonfire to meet the kidnappers' demands, and once that was spent he could do nothing but drink. He poured himself another glass as the screen lit up.

That day's video began with a shot of a wooden barrel on its side, bolted in place on the concrete floor. A muffled scream came from off-camera, growing in volume until Hannah was carried into frame by four masked men, wailing into her gag as they bent her backwards over the barrel and strapped her into place. The leader of the kidnappers stepped in front of the camera, obscuring everything but the backs of the men and the edges of Hannah's flailing limbs.

"Robert, I thought I'd never have to worry that you'd exceed anyone's expectations, and you've so far proven me correct. That's fine, you've done what we've asked. A better man than you might try to do more than the bare minimum for his daughter but hey, a better man would never have gotten his daughter in this position in the first place. Whatever, it is what it is, and your cooperation--and money, naturally--have ensured that we won't need to, ah, accelerate the schedule for our dear little guest yet." His words were punctuated by the sounds of smacks and squeals as the men went about restraining her. "So we were talking to her last night, after she'd vomited up most of the cum for the last time, and it turns out Hannah has never fucked a guy. That's crazy right, a cute cheerleader like her, you'd figure she'd be getting stretched out nightly by some fridge-shaped football player, but no, she's got a girlfriend, and by my definition she's a virgin. Don't worry Rob, we're going to fix it."

The leader stepped aside and the shot focused on Hannah's lower body. Everything above the base of her ribs was hidden by the curve of the barrel. Three canvas straps kept her hips pinned to the barrel, one at the top of each thigh and one across her navel. Rope had been looped around each of her ankles and connected to pulleys and a winch, drawing her legs apart until they were at a perfect 180-degree split, then cranking a few inches further until she screamed in pain and her legs looked on the verge of dislocating. The leader walked forward and traced a finger over the joint between her leg and her pelvis.

The camera panned around to her feet, zooming in close on the angry red stripes. "We practiced this earlier, sorry about the marks on her feet, we figured that if she could move her feet away from the cane, the rope wasn't taut enough."

The camera continued its rotation, until her upper body came into view. The only clothing she still wore were the tattered remains of her cheerleading tabard, soiled with spit and cum and pulled up over her tits. Her arms were bound hand-to-elbow behind her back, and her head was kept firmly in place by a thick, U-shaped iron band which went across her throat and had been screwed into the wood of the barrel. Her hair was a rat's nest of male fluids, her eyes puffy from crying, two tubes had been pushed deep into her nose to aid in her breathing, and her gag was locked deep in place by bandages which frothed with pale foam around her mouth. While some of the cum splattering her face had obviously dried yesterday, several lines appeared to be thick and fresh.

"All the ass-to-mouth stuff she did yesterday was fucking gross so we gagged her with a bar of soap. Don't fret about the cum on her face, some of the boys wanted to get the easy one out of the way." He sighed. "Look, Rob, fundamentally we all know that you're a fucking deadbeat and none of us trust that you'll pay us promptly without fucking it up, so we're working under the assumption that your sweet baby girl will be under our care for a while. She'll need to earn some money to pay her way, she'll be earning it by selling her cunt, and since she's a virgin she's got a steep learning curve. We're not just going to fuck her, we're going to give her a crash course in getting fucked so that we can get the most use possible out of her for the next few weeks or months. Given that, our resident electrician has some ideas to help loosen here up, come on over, Sparky..."

The kidnapper called Sparky wore the same nondescript black outfit as the others, but there was clearly a ponytail under her balaclava, her hands were slimmer, and her jacket was thicker around the chest. She wheeled over a trolley bearing an array of electrical equipment.

"That block on top is a heavily-modified transdermal electrical nerve stimulation unit, or TENS unit," said the leader. "Hannah's gonna get a real jolt out of it."

Sparky slipped on a set of black nitrile gloves and began applying electrode patches all over the whimpering girl: six pairs along her inner thighs, one either side of her clit, one either side of her anus, a pair on each side of her ribcage, four pairs over her breasts, and a pair on the soles of each of her feet. She ran wires between each patch and the TENS unit and tugged each one gently to ensure it was securely in place, before stopping to give the camera a thumbs-up.

The camera zoomed in on the TENS unit. It had a row of paired dials and switches, with a label next to each pair: feet, stomach, clit, asshole, tits, thighs 1, thighs 2, for each set of electrodes. "Look at this beautiful machine, Rob. Each dial can go from gentle tickling to bacon searing, and each switch will deliver a short, sharp, high-intensity shock. Sparky, give him a demonstration."

Muffled yelps sounded out as Sparky simultaneously flicked the buttons for her clit and nipples, followed by a ragged, gargling howl as she turned the dial for feet all the way up and back down.

"Relax, we're not going to torture her with it, not today at least."

Sparky spent the next few minutes carefully setting each dial individual dial to a level that elicited whimpering and twitching but not yelling or thrashing. She marked that point on each dial with chalk before turning it down to zero and moving on to the next dial. Once she discovered the point for all the separate dials, she set every single one to that point. Hannah's pained whine rose in pitch before breaking into sobbing as an uncomfortable level of current ran through dozens of sensitive points all over her body.

"See, the real thing about electricity, beyond the intensity of the sensation, is that it's stable," said the leader. "It never gets less intense, there's no break between hits, no way to stop and catch your breath, it just goes directly into your nerves for as long as the current keeps running. It's barely been ten seconds, and I bet we can see the effects."

He nodded, and Sparky spread Hannah's labia with her black nitrile fingers, revealing a glint of moisture.

"See? We'll need more than that, though."

Sparky took a Hitachi from inside the trolley, turned it on full-power, and pressed it down directly onto Hannah's clit. At the same time she slipped her ring and middle finger into the girl and began grinding her hand against her. At first, Hannah squeaked and gurgled at the violation, but a tone of desperation soon crept into her cries. Her skin became flushed as it built and built, her chest rising and falling and rising, twitching against her restraints, almost as if she was trying to push herself into it.

"You ready to cum for me, pretty girl?" Sparky's voice was deeper than Rob had expected, and it almost came out as a growl. "I can feel you squeezing my fingers, just a little longer..."

A second before Hannah's whole frame could seize up in climax, Sparky pulled away both hand and Hitachi, and slapped her hard five times directly on her cunt. The girl howled in pain as her orgasm was stolen from her, only for Sparky to reapply her fingers and the wand, grinding into her even harder. Again, she pulled her hand away and slapped her clit before the girl could come, and she repeated this process three more times before setting aside the wand and wiping her brow.

"She's ready, boys."

"Finally." The leader walked up between Hannah's legs, unzipping his fly as the camera zoomed in on her pussy, twitching and glistening, open ever-so-slightly as the base from the way her legs were stretched. He took out his cock and stroked it fully-hard, foreskin rolling up and down the cherry-red tip. He gasped softly, only barely audible on the sound of the recording, as he rubbed the head up and down her cleft, coating it in her juices before lining it up at the base. "Rob, I think your daughter's gonna be pretty fucking tight."

He slammed his hips forward. Hannah made a sound between a sneeze and a hiccup before screaming, her body tensing and contorting in a way that would have pushed her a foot into the air had she not been bound so securely to the barrel. Despite her reaction, his cock was barely half-way inside her, bending slightly from the force. Impatient, he grabbed her by the hips and pushed even harder, sinking into her half-inch by half-inch until his pelvis met her groin. He then fell forwards onto her like a dog in rut, humping frenetically with no regard for anything other than his own pleasure as the girl below him wailed into her soapy gag, his hairy chest rasping across her bare stomach as his balls slapped against her asshole.

Sparky said something to the leader, but her words were unintelligible over the slapping of flesh on flesh and the grunts and whimpers. Whatever was said, the leader heard enough to nod in response, and so Sparky rapidly flicked the switch to send shocks through Hannah's clit, drawing a keening screech from the girl and a roar from the leader as he climaxed. He kept pumping in and out of Hannah's cleft for a full minute after as thick, opaque cum oozed out from around his cock, ran down her crack, and dripped onto the floor below, and he only pulled out when he was too soft to stay inside her.

He stepped aside, staggering for a second as if drunk, and wiped cum and fluids off his cock with his hand, and then wiped his hand off on Hannah's thigh. "Robert, I know she's your daughter," he said, his breathing ragged, "but you've seriously got to try it if and when you get her back. That was the tightest, hottest cunt I've ever fucked."

The camera zoomed in on her pussy, stretched even wider than before, a line of pink-tinged semen seeping out and trickling down onto the concrete. A moment later the next man stepped up and stuffed his prick inside her, his entry made even easier by the slick cum. He fucked her at a luxurious, leisurely pace, slapping and pinching her tautly-stretched thighs and stomach, all while Sparky flicked the switches on the TENS unit to make Hannah clench and writhe around her lover. He pulled out and walked around to finish on her upturned face, smearing his cum into her eyes as a third man stepped up to fuck her.

The line went on, thirty men fucking her one after another, no breaks and no cuts, no man lasting more than a few minutes before cumming inside her or on her. Her cries and struggles grew weaker, by the half-hour mark she could barely struggle, and as the last few men took their pleasure from her she could only twitch and sob.

The camera followed the final rapist as he pulled out, spewed his load over Hannah's belly, and walked off to drink beer with the others. It then returned to focus on Hannah. Her skin was violently pink where it had been slapped, scratched, pinched and groped, as if she'd been sunburned in a circle that radiated out from her groin. Her thighs and breasts were covered in handprints and scratch marks, the skin dotted with grape-sized bruises where the men had dug their fingers in roughly for leverage as they fucked her, and every inch was covered in sweat. Criss-crossed lines of cum coated her stomach and tits, and a few stray strands dripped from her heels, from a few men who had pulled out to cum on her bare soles. Her pussy gaped open, wide enough to insert a sharpie without touching the edges, an unbroken trail of cum leaking out between her legs.

There was a squeak of relief as Sparky turned off the TENS unit, followed by whimpering as she not-at-all-gently yanked off each and every electrode patch. Sparky then took a harness from the trolley and clipped it in place around her hips. When she turned to the side, the camera caught sight of the toy she had mounted: an eight-inch silicone dildo, modeled on a dog's cock, with a baseball-sized knot at the base. Hannah barely reacted as the first few inches slipped inside her, screamed in pain and disgust as Sparky forced the knot inside, much to the amusement of the other kidnappers.

The camera panned away to show several of the kidnappers drawing straws, a particularly large man being congratulated by the others as he drew the one with the blue tip. The leader turned to face the camera and said, "She's such a good fuck that we decided we'd raffle her off as a body pillow for the night, looks like Tiny won it." He drank his beer, and as he stopped talking the squelch of a plastic knot being withdrawn from a well-fucked pussy became audible for a moment. "Don't take too long getting our money ready, okay? Because tomorrow we're busting her asshole open, and after that we'll have to start getting imaginative."

The recording cut to black.  

(Part 4 here)

[mymedicine]

Stardust

~7k of sweet fluff & painful angst w jazz singer harry

moodboard

sum - y/n reflects on her own insecurities, the nuances of her shitty job, and her past relationship with the most popular vocalist at the club while watching him perform.

warnings - alcohol, angst, swearing, self-deprecation, misogyny/workplace sexual harassment (it’s pretty light, relatively speaking, but I don’t want to undermine how wrong any and all harassment is, not matter how seemingly minor), excessive use of italics and the word “belong”

notes - this is inspired in part by the several years i spent singing in a jazz group, wherein i had to learn about 382404 jazz standards. Stardust is one of my all time favorites! anyways this is maybe a little different than a typical one shot, but i hope you like it anyways as i worked very hard on her :’)

/

“Didn’t you have a thing with him a while back?”

“What?” Taken aback, Y/N snapped her eyes open wide. Just the words brought a shiver down her spine and a nagging twist in her heart. “No…we uh…we almost…” She stammered hastily, herself not even knowing where the sentence was going. How could she even begin to explain their relationship?

“Almost..?”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, trying in vain to hide the longing in her voice. “Almost.”

The club was busy tonight, as it always was when its star vocalist was performing. The Fine Line had hosted hundreds of local artists in the seven years since its opening, but only one had managed to bring his show anywhere outside its four brick walls. Harry Styles had gone above and beyond, in fact. And now that he’d been picked up by a renowned pianist and the pair had and toured around the country together, his presence in the tiny club was rare delight. Never one to forget his roots, Harry was fulfilling his vow to return to the club that kickstarted his rise to stardom every year.

“Well, lots of people would be very happy to have ‘almost’…” she gave Y/N a pointed look, “…that beautiful man.”

Y/N knew Sarah meant well, but the words tightened the soreness she was feeling in her chest. Of course he was beautiful. It was blatantly obvious to everyone who laid eyes on his delicate chocolate curls, charming green eyes, and bright crinkly smile. But Y/N didn’t just see him; she knew him. And she knew he was just as beautiful on the inside.

“It was complicated.”

An understatement. Not a lie. No more lies.

Y/N moved her arm away from the bar as Sarah swiped a wet rag on the counter where she’d been leaning. It hardly mattered, Y/N reckoned. The bar would be stained with watered-down scotch and lukewarm Prosecco spilled by the hands of rich and poor alike mere minutes after the club opened for the night, and Sarah’d have to clean it all over again. Still, Y/N kind of envied the bartender. Sarah had a safe place behind the bar to stay busy in all night, away from too many hungry, unwanted gazes. Not only that, but it would be so much easier to avoid the stage (or rather, the man performing on it) if she didn’t have to deal with the rowdy patrons seated in the front row.

“Complicated?” Sarah repeated with a mischievous tone and that same pointed stare.

“Are you single?” she’d asked when a jolt of confidence suddenly hit her. Alcohol-induced confidence, of course. Her shift had been over for a half hour and John had yet to declare last call.

“Yes, well…it’s sort of complicated.” he’d replied, whiskey coursing through his own veins.

“Complicated how?”

“I just…” He trailed off and looked away from her as if searching for the right words, eyes gazing thoughtfully at the few patrons who were still lingering after his set “…consider myself married to my job…”

“In that case, I consider myself twice divorced and scorned.”

He chuckled, returning his eyes to meet hers from where he was perched on the barstool beside her. “That bad being a waitress? At least you got a show from an outstanding vocalist.”

“What vocalist is tha? I’m only here for the pianist,” she teased, nodding her head in the direction of where Mitch was chatting with a group of immaculately dressed, heavily made up women. Too made up, Y/N thought. The Fine Line was a humble hole in the wall jazz club where anyone could get cheap drinks and decent entertainment, not the goddamn opera house. She refused to consider that the reason for her hostility toward their appearances could be anything other than that. She wasn’t jealous—they were pretentious, overly obsessed rich girls who fawned over anyone with talent or wealth. Harry and Mitch, of course, had both.

Her irritation melted away as Harry laughed again, the sound somehow even sweeter to her than the dulcet singing for which he’d become famous.

“Yes, Sar.” Y/N crossed her arms, subconsciously moving her body away from the stools in front of the bar and the memories they held. How could she explain their relationship?—Well, it seems she couldn’t.

Sensing her friend’s unease, Sarah let the issue go. “Well, at least you’ll be getting nice tips tonight,” she said diplomatically. “You look extra pretty and ’s gonna be packed.”

Yes, one reason Y/N had meticulously ironed her black tea-length skirt and cream blouse (even though they’d both be covered by her apron), applied a smooth, thin line of eyeliner, and stuffed an emergency tube of glossy lipstick in her brassiere was in anticipation of the club being crowded with plenty of older men whose generosity depended upon her appearance as much as the quality of her service. An omission. Not a lie.

“Thanks.” Y/N smiled stiffly, “Hope it’s worth it.”

Complicated indeed.

Despite her mild annoyance and the growing ache in her heart, Y/N felt a surge of gratitude for Sarah. Before she took over for John a few months ago, Y/N had struggled to befriend any of the other staff at the club. The other waitresses were nice enough, but Y/N just didn’t have the energy to initiate any sort of friendship. The weight of her lost lover, her financial struggles, her personal unhappiness…it was too much to unload on a meaningless workplace friendship.

With Sarah, it was easy. Her alliance didn’t require any work or thought or feeling. She was easy to talk to and even easier to absently listen to as she talked Y/N’s ear off. Whether intended to take Y/N’s mind off her inevitable confrontation with her past or not, Sarah’s rambling was a welcome distraction. She prattled about the poor quality of the alcohol, her disbelief at the outrageous prices they charged, how “fucking freezing” it was outside, how she was excited to gush over the women’s outfits for the night, how insufferable their manager was, and how she hoped Harry’s pianist was as amiable as he was talented and handsome (and that she’d even be able to speak to him in order to find out).

Y/N eyed the clock above the bar as Sarah continued chattering and swiping a rag over each pint glass. The hands seemed to move faster than usual—far too fast for comfort. They were less than fifteen minutes shy of opening, which meant there was more than likely a line forming outside and that the man of the hour had already arrived.

He’d have come through the back door and sat himself in the makeshift dressing room back there, probably having some tea with honey and trying to stop himself from babbling to Mitch, knowing it killed his voice. Y/N wondered absently what he was wearing. She pictured him in a flashy suit with his hair tousled and messy, maybe some of his favorite clunky rings adorning his fingers. Her heart squeezed impossibly and though she knew he wouldn’t be in the dining room just yet, she shivered at the thought of his eyes on her, his hands on her, his voice in her ears.

She tried to busy herself with watching Sarah clean, but she couldn’t help her eyes from glancing at the clock. She fidgeted in her barstool, drumming her fingers on the counter as the minute hand completed yet another rotation.

At six fifty-three Y/N couldn’t take it anymore so she bid Sarah farewell and made deliberately slow work of walking to the ladies room. But of course, she couldn’t help but notice that there was a clock in there too. She fished out her lipstick, desperate for something to do. Still, her eyes flicked up to where it hung above the mirror and her unsteady fingers stained her chin with the pink gloss. She begged the clock to slow down—no where near ready for work. Would she ever be ready to return to the club knowing she’d be sharing the space with her past lover?

Six fifty-seven… She wiped her chin with the pad of her thumb…Fifty-eight…She smoothed the non-existent wrinkles on her apron…fifty-nine…

Time.

Seven o’clock. The Fine Line’s doors opened and hostesses ushered the eager guests inside. A warm din quickly filled the room as patrons flooded in, greeting the staff and chatting to each other. Y/N merely watched from the side of the bar as the happy, well-dressed people sat at bar tables, corner booths, and even couches near the stage where it was cozy and intimate. Behind the bar, Sarah was already serving the more eager customers and chatting with them effortlessly about their outfits and the weather. Y/N felt a surge of disappointment—no, anger at herself for being so useless. He wasn’t even in the room and yet, he affected her every move.

Finally at seven oh seven, Y/N plucked up the courage to pell herself away from safety and actually do her job. Encouraged by the icy glare her manager, Robert, was sending her, she plastered a fake smile on her cheeks and sauntered over to the back corner of the room to greet her tables before taking their drink orders. Prosecco, house cabernet, whiskey neat, water with lemon—all so predictable and bland.

At seven twelve, Harry took the stage.

She caught sight of him just as she was setting down the glass of iced water with lemon. The older woman who’d ordered the drink thanked her kindly, but her attention was elsewhere. Harry was anything but bland—this she of course already knew, but the sight of his handsome figure after so long nearly made her drop the glass.

Needing no introduction, he and his pianist sauntered into the spotlight seemingly from out of nowhere. Y/N watched helplessly from the back of the room as cheers erupted from the crowd almost immediately. She could only see glimpses of him through the shadowy backs of her patrons’ heads, and still, he was an absolute wonder to behold. He was shimmering head to toe in a glittery black and gold blazer with tight pants and shiny black shoes. Y/N couldn’t tell from where she was frozen whether he was wearing rings or any other jewelry, but she wouldn’t doubt it—even his hair seemed to be dancing with sparkle.

Y/N managed to escape her daze as Harry effortlessly took his place in front of the piano—center stage, right where he belonged. He stood behind the microphone, his bright smile partially concealed by the mouth of it. Even before he said a word, his confident stature and striking outfit accompanied by Mitch’s smooth fluttering of the ivory keys captivated the room. The cheers from the crowd roared louder, the sounds of clinking glasses and high-pitched whistles making his smile grow impossibly bigger.

Meanwhile, Y/N retreated back to the corner of the bar to…hide? To sulk? She wasn’t sure, but she leaned on the counter anyways and surveyed the room. Was this where she belonged?

“Good evening, my friends,” He murmured into the microphone, immediately silencing the room with his low voice and thick, alluring accent. Wide eyes and glowing smiles greeted him from every corner. He glanced around the room, taking in the dark faces and familiar cozy atmosphere of the club he’d grown up singing in—looking for something (or rather, someone).

“I’m Harry Styles…” He paused, smiling wide and shutting his eyes to let the soft piano chords wash over himself and the dining room. Mitch looked up from the keys at his friend and returned the relaxed grin. “And this is the incredibly talented Mitch Rowland…” Harry continued, “We’re gonna play some jazz tunes for you tonight. Please sit back, relax, have a drink or two. We’re all here for a good time.”

He gave Mitch a slow, confident nod, and so began their set.

Even with a narrow, partially obstructed view of him, it was exceedingly obvious to Y/N that Harry had outgrown The Fine Line. His voice cascaded off the stage, flooding the room and engulfing everyone in it. He improvised effortlessly, as if music was his native language rather than English. It was evident that he understood the difference between art and artistry. Art existed for sake of the audience, but the latter existed within the creator himself. He was a vessel through which artistry flowed and pictures were sketched without any paint, stories told without any words. It was a gift granted upon people like Harry, whose purpose on Earth was to share it.

He was smooth jazz personified, the epitome of serenity with a touch of spunk evident in his glittery outfit and playful tone. He managed to strike the perfect balance between traditional jazz and contemporary funk, booming forte and soft pianissimo, bubbly disposition and mellow temperament, relaxed and chaotic, carefree and attentive—it was precisely why the world loved him so much.

Y/N watched fondly as he reached up to hold the mouth of the microphone, and there it was—a glint of metal catching the light. His H ring was big and clunky around his finger, but still strikingly beautiful against the dim spotlight and his painted nails.

“My hands are cold.”

“Yeah? Should I warm ‘em up f’you?”

Suddenly his hand had engulfed hers. Just like that, they were holding hands. Y/N felt her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. His calloused, ring-clad fingers around hers sent waves of warmth through her palm, her forearm, her chest, the feeling so physically overwhelming that she stopped walking.

He followed her lead, turning to face her and take her other hand in his free one.

She couldn’t see much of his face in the darkness, but the stars cast a delicate glow on his prominent features. She could make out the outline of his crooked nose, his sharp cheekbones, his bunny teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“Hah,” he mused. “Knew you just wanted ta hold my hand.”

An icy wind ripped through her. She squeezed his hands a little tighter, ignoring the slight pain his rings gave her. She instantly felt warmer.

Being with Harry had been a fantasy—a lie, even. He was simply too good to be true. Just three weeks of diner dates and flower bouquets and jazzy serenades and whispered pillowtalk, and she was in love. Three weeks was all it took for Y/N to fall absolutely head over heels for him. Over a year had passed and she still wasn’t over a love that was built in three weeks.

As heavenly music pervaded the room and alcohol continued to flow, the patrons grew rowdier. Y/N was already on edge with the constant ringing of her ex lover’s voice in her ears and all the repressed love resurfacing, and each wandering hand and lingering touch pushed her a little closer to her breaking point. She was swamped with two tables both choosing to order hors d’oeuvres for the evening, which irritated her to no end (Who orders food at a jazz club? Especially this jazz club, where even the simplest drinks were barely palatable. The Fine Line would surely find away to fuck up charcuterie, and then she’d have to go and deal with their complaints about it).

“Excuse me, love. Aren’t you the waitress?” The man’s meaty hand stopped her in her journey to the back to fetch the food, snaking its way to the small of her back. Y/N shivered at the feeling of his sweaty palm through the cotton material of her apron.

Instinct told her to steal a glance at the stage. Did he notice her discomfort? Did he care? Do I care if he cares? She was no stranger to these kinds of interactions with inebriated men and he was still performing like he didn’t have a care in the world. She didn’t need him to save her from this drunkard or any of the club-goers hounding her.

Y/N put on a fake smile and looked up at his face, “Yes, sir.”

“Can you make me anotha drink?” He slurred.

“I can put it in with the bartender, just give me one moment—“

“That bitch over there?…” He make a sweeping gesture toward the general area where Sarah, too, was swamped. “Where’s the actual bartender?”

“Uhm, sir…Sarah makes all the drinks—“

“Bullshit, she’s just a girl—”

“Sir—“

An exaggerated eye roll, “—good for nothing little bitches, both of you—“

“If we’re all so worthless to you, why don’t you get the goddamn drink yourself!”

The man looked appalled, mouth wide open in a shocked silence. Y/N felt a tinge of satisfaction knowing she’d wounded him. But the tiny flame was quickly extinguished.

“Y/N!” It was Robert’s angry voice smashing through her joy like broken glass. He thundered over to her, coming out of nowhere just in the nick of time.

“Yes, sir?” She sighed, eyes trained on her feet. They were aching in her tight heels—just another affliction she’d grown accustomed too.

“That’s not how you talk to paying customers here! It’s barely eight o clock and you’re already on strike two for tonight. You’re lucky I’m feeling nice enough to giving you one more chance.”

Robert’s raised voice caught the attention of a few guests in the near vicinity. Y/N felt a wave of shame wash over her, like she was a child being reprimanded by her parents. For a moment, she absently wished that she was nine or ten years old again, with no responsibilities, no heartache, no problems. But she wasn’t a child; she was a grown woman and she needed this job to survive.

Y/N bit her tongue and uttered, “My apologies, sir,” through clenched teeth.

The scene seemed to have caught the singer’s attention from across the room. He finally caught a glimpse of her from the stage and Y/N could practically see his heart somersaulting in his chest. He paused for a beat, halting his languid swaying to focus on the glimpse he caught of her profile in the crowd. He could only see her face very faintly in the dark, crowded club, but it was more than enough. Y/N felt as if his gaze was stretching time…stretching until she felt the sting of a hand slapping her wrist at her side.

She snapped her eyes away from the stage and turned toward the source of the strike. Unlike Y/N, who couldn’t even seem do her job when he was in the same room as her, Harry recovered quickly once her gaze left his, blinking his own eyes as to escape the reverie.

Robert sent Y/N another dirty glare, seething, “Get back to work before I send you out for good.”

Y/N nodded meekly, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to carry on. She rubbed her sore wrist and bruised pride. It definitely wasn’t the first time Robert had given her a harsh censure, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

Meanwhile, Harry returned his attention to his performance. “This last song is called ‘Stardust,’” he mused into the microphone, effortlessly holding the attention of every patron in the club. “’S one of my favorites. ’S about love…and lost.” He paused, sending the crowd a charming smile. “Big thanks to Mitchy…” he gestured grandiosely toward the pianist, who played an impressive jazzy riff in response, “…and of course, each of you. You made me the man I am today, and I’m forever grateful.”

Y/N swore he looked right at her as a melodiously chanted those words. He knew where to find her now and his gaze was purposeful, intense, and unwavering. Not for the first time tonight, her heart felt like it’d stopped beating in her chest.

Harry hesitated to continue, happy green eyes lingering on hers while Y/N wondered absently if it was only his lover—only herself, that could see the longing hidden in them. She smeared on her best blank expression, no longer having the energy for even a fake smile, and focused on keeping her tray steady. She plucked four more full glasses from the bar and balanced them precariously on her tray before meandering around the dining room to the rhythm of Harry’s song. A year ago, the sound of his voice would have made her own heart sing. Today, each note twisted the knife in her heart a little more, torturing her with what she couldn’t have.

“Mitchy’s been teaching me a couple things…”

He had a beautiful baby grand in the middle of his living room. It was clear from the way the piano took up nearly the entire room that he invested in things he loved—not spaces.

“Oh yeah?” She wrapped her arms lazily across his chest, embracing him from behind while he sat at the bench.

Harry’s fingers glided across the keys and played a few random chords and licks before finally producing a soft, familiar melody. Y/N absently recognized the tune and smiled fondly, hoping he could feel her grin in his hair.

“Heaven…I’m in heaven…” he sang gently, easily falling into the swinging rhythm. Y/N felt the vibrations of his voice in her own chest, heart beating wildly.

His fingers continued floating over the piano, fumbling here and there, but nonetheless impressing her with his skill. “And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…”

“…And I seem to find the happiness I seek…” Y/N clumsily joined him in the lyrics she vaguely knew. Her voice wasn’t nearly as effortlessly harmonious as Harry’s, but was equally as joyful.

“When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek…” They finished in unison, a final resolving chord echoing between them. Only fitting, Y/N squeezed her arms around his chest impossibly tighter and pressed her cheek to his. Warmth surged through her from where their skin met, joy following close behind.

As he sang his final piece of the night, his voice glimmered throughout the room like, well, like stardust, Y/N thought. He was a star in every sense of the word, eyes gleaming, teeth shining white, and heavenly voice brightening up the darkness of the club. His blazer glittered in the light and cast bright refractions on all the walls as he swayed to the rhythm, while the heavenly sounds of his artful scatting convinced Y/N that she was indeed in the presence of an angel.

She felt his eyes on her all the way from the stage, even in the throng of drunk patrons and busy waitresses. It was impossible not to. The weight of his gaze and the rasp of his voice surrounded her.

“Though I dream in vain...In my heart it always will remain…the stardust melody, the memory of love’s refrain.”

The memory of love’s refrain? The last chorus was overwhelming. A strident ringing overshadowed Harry’s voice in her ears. Her vision blurred, the lights and the people and the glasses blending together and fading. The stardust melody...the memory of love’s refrain...in my heart...

Suddenly, as if all her limbs had disconnected from her brain, Y/N’s hands slipped from under the tray. Prosecco spilled all over her apron in the next instant, staining the once white fabric champagne. His song, his voice, his gaze…he’d rendered her useless.

She heard Robert’s booming footsteps before she saw him. “Y/N! How many times do I have to tell you off tonight?!” His voice sounded distant in her ears. Loud and angry, but far-away...as if he were calling to her from another world.

This time, the clamor didn’t go unheard by the guests, nor by Harry. He frowned visibly and stuttered. He began to rush his goodbye speech, quickly thanking the crowd.

“That’s strike fucking three,” Robert continued shouting and flailing his hands dramatically. “Get out. I don’t want to see your face here until next week!” His harsh words drowned out Harry’s final, hasty farewell reminder to ‘treat people with kindness.’

Y/N said nothing and remained frozen in response. She stood exhausted in a puddle of alcohol and broken glass, physically unable to carry on the facade any longer. She turned on her heel, desperate to be out from under both Robert’s furious gaze and Harry’s musical spell. As she stumbled toward the exit, she felt like her legs would give out at any moment and finally crumble against the insurmountable pressure. Harry’s were just one of hundreds of pairs of eyes that lingered on her as she struggled. She paused near the door and grabbed onto the coatrack for support, blinking away tears and choking back sobs.

Harry raced over to her, swiftly maneuvering his body through the crowd confused club-goers. When he reached her, he instinctively caught her wrist in his grasp. His rings were cold and sharp against her sore skin—the contrast between the cold metal and his hot palm familiar and comforting and painful all at once.

“Are you okay?”

She replied immediately, “Yes.” Not a lie. She still had a job for now, she had a decent coat wrapped around her, she had a bed to sleep on tonight, and she was breathing. She was okay.

He was panting, voice sounding raspy and strained from overuse. A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead and he flicked it away with the back of his hand. “Are you…are you sure?”

“I want you to have this.”

“It’ll never fit me, H. Your hands are even bigger than y’head.”

He reeled back, feigning offense with a furrowed brow, but he could only move a few inches away from her on his tiny bed they were sharing.

“Fine then, meanie. I won’ give yeh the pretty little chain I got for it,” he said tauntingly.

Y/N’s heart soared as she took in his impish smirk and dopey eyes dancing with a glint of happiness. She ignored his teasing tone, choosing instead to melt over his words. Of course he’d gotten her a chain, she thought—he always thought of everything.

He stretched his arm over her, shoving his bare chest in her face. Playfully, she poked her tongue out to lick his nipple, to which he exclaimed a melodramatic “Oi! Quit tha!” And laughter fell from both their lips as he reached for the drawer in his nightstand.

He pulled back but kept her tucked close to him, leaving just enough space to dangle the chain he produced from the drawer in between them. Y/N studied his pale, nimble fingers as they worked, opening the clasp and slipping his S ring onto it. As he finished, her eyes met his once again. His hair was in his face and the early morning sunlight cast a soft shadow of a single curl over his eyelid. Still, she could make out every detail of his eyes, every vision into his thoughts and shimmering fleck of emotion.

“Are you sure you want me to wear this?” She hummed pensively, not having to look away from his eyes to know that her fingers were tracing the swallows on his collar.

“Yes, but only if you apologize for bein’ mean ta me.”

She giggled again, the sound pure and lovely—like music to his ears. “I’m very sorry,” she humored him, “I love your big head.”

“Shut up, you absolute pest.” He gently pinched the skin at her hip with one hand, and with the other, slipped the chain over her head. She beamed at him, hearts in her eyes and love in her heart.

“Now I’m with you. Always.” And with that, he hauled her into the circle of his arms—right where she belonged, the sounds of her gentle laughter muffled in his chest as the sun rose to illuminate the morning.

Of course she wasn’t okay! She hated her life and she loved Harry. How could she not? He was brilliantly talented, funny, thoughtful, and charming—but in her eyes, oblivious to her internal struggle. She didn’t belong with him. She could never belong with him! A tired, talentless, immature woman destined only to wait tables and lie for the rest of her existence. Maybe she’d marry one of the Fine Line’s patrons whose hungry eyes lingered long enough, whose hands grabbed her waist tight enough. She’d bear his children and go on hating her life and craving something more. That was her truth. No more lies.

His expensive shoes thumped on the stone behind her as he ran to follow after her outside. The lights from the sign outside the club were making his jacket glimmer and shine as he moved, even in the darkness of midnight. She turned to face him, reluctantly meeting his eyes from where he stopped a few feet away from her.

Y/N waited for him to say something else. He’d run after her, after all. And yet, he was silent aside from heavy panting echoing his exhaustion and frustration. He was opening his mouth and frantically shutting it again, desperate to say the right thing but terrified of failing—again.

She felt her heart squeeze in her chest with every second passing in tense silence. Y/N had a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but all she could come up with was: “Thanks for the show, Harry. You were brilliant.”

He furrowed his brows and shook his head, “Y/N, wait…I—”

“Good night.” Her hands trembled by her side—for more reasons that just the bitter cold, as she turned to leave. He let her go, again.

It was a long walk home.

The cobblestone streets felt achingly familiar, yet entirely foreign underneath her. The gentle click, clack of her heels against the stones, the bitter chill and the whooshing sounds of harsh wind, even the glow cast by pale moonlight against the walls of alleyways was all the same. All the same, every goddamn day.

The only difference tonight was the sticky remnants of spilled Prosecco on her skin and the agonizing force of her emotions. The words of his song lingered in her brain, invading her thoughts and inevitably slowing her pace as she stumbled over her feet. She felt heavy and wearied with the cumbersome weight of her regrets and mistakes and shortcomings and insecurities returning with her former lover. It took everything out of her to leave him again. To break her own heart again.

Y/N knew she was lucky to live alone. She didn’t have to rely on a man to support her. She had a job, she had friends, she had a comparatively good life. But she’d never be good enough for him. Without the sight of him and the feeling of his skin on hers fresh in her mind, it might’ve been possible to force the thought out of her mind.

She stepped through the door and immediately noticed how her apartment somehow felt even colder than the bitter chill outside. She shut the door, ignoring the stinging draft and peeling off her heavy coat. Even with the physical weight gone from her shoulders, her muscles still felt tense, achy, and forlorn.

She hadn’t felt this kind of pain since…since she’d left the first time.

Y/N dug around her coat pockets and her medicine cabinet for aspirin or peppermint oil or something to numb the pain. Coming up empty, she retreated to her bedroom, where her eyes fixated immediately on her nightstand.

She paused as a tear strolled down her cheek as visions of what was inside the drawer invaded her mind. She’d blocked out his memory, thrown away his t-shirts, forgotten the sound of his voice and unlearned his habits. But she couldn’t throw away this tiny piece of him. To her, it was anything but tiny. Every one of her billions of neurons told her to get rid of the damn thing, but her one aching heart wouldn’t let her. It was the one thing keeping her chained to him.

Her hand hesitated at the knob of the drawer. She felt weak, jaded, and at the mercy of her agonizing memories.

The chain lay face up at the bottom of the drawer, the S as big and clunky as its counterpart, as shiny and beautiful as its owner. The sight of it sent a tidal wave of memories through her head and a fresh stream of tears down her cheeks. God, she thought, I want him so bad.

Clutching the ring and chain to her chest, she collapsed onto her cold sheets and finally let the sobs wrack her body. His raspy voice rang in her ears, the sweet melody of Stardust sounding dissonant amid her own voice, amid her worst lie of all—the lie that haunted her memory. I don’t want you.

A harsh knock knock knock interrupted the cacophony in her mind.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She leapt out of bed and furiously swiped the tears off her cheeks. She debated running to the bathroom to rinse her face, but another set of harsh knocks shooed away the thought. There’s really only one person it could be—one person who knows where she lives and knows she’d fall at his feet every single time. Her aching feet dragged her body across the cold floor to foyer. With a trembling hand, she turned the handle to her front door.

And there he was, at her doorstep in all his shining glory, as if he’d come to sweep her off her feet once again. His hair was frizzy and longer up close than it had looked onstage. The happy glint he had while in his element was absent from his eyes, now watery and pained but as big and beautiful as ever. She swore the moonlight had grown brighter as it shone on his figure, as if whatever higher power out there refused to let him exist for even a moment without a spotlight.

“Y/N, please hear me out.”

At that moment when the words fell off his lips, she’d never felt further from him—not even when he was hundreds of miles away in a city she’d never heard of singing for strangers she’d never meet. Even then, they’d be sleeping under the same stars. But with Harry right in front of her, standing at her door still clad in his glittery blazer, they were worlds apart.

“I don’t have to hear you out, H,” she whispered, the nickname slipping out before she could stop it. It tasted sweet on her tongue, but the sound of his name in her voice made her chest ache. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I do, though. I- I…” He trailed off, looking down at his shiny black shoes as if hoping to find the words he was looking for in his reflection. “I didn’t make you feel wanted. I didn’t do enough to make you happy…to make you feel like, you belonged—belong with me.”

His speech sounded broken and clumsy. Y/N absently posited that for him, English really was a second language to music. Scatting came so easy to him. It was infinite—each note and syllable holding meaning, a line of his story, a feeling in his soul, a piece of his heart—not limited by the constraints of speech. How could he possibly find words in the English language to express how he felt about her? How he felt about himself? He sounded like he was suffocating, like he was drowning, like the stone floor was slipping out from under his feet.

Y/N could see his anguish. She recognized it. She lived it.

“You belong on the stage, Harry.” Keep your voice even, she chanted to herself, don’t let it show. That was her life. Chin up, lipstick on, hair slick, mouth shut. A constant battle between don’t lie and don’t let it show. She’d perfected the balance in the year since her relationship. But Harry, of course, managed to make all of that resolve crumble to ruins without even trying.

“I belong with you,” He told her desperately, himself not hiding any of his agony.

“No. I belong to the club. You belong to the music.”

Harry threw his head into his hands, rubbing his glossy eyes furiously. “Is it selfish of me to want both of you?!” He cried, shoving his ring-clad fingers through his curls.

Y/N’s breath hitched and she paused, not quite knowing what to say. Yes, she thought, it is selfish. You want the music, the fans, the money, the fame, and the girl. All I’ve ever wanted is you.

“Come with me,” he continued when Y/N didn’t speak. He reached both hands out as if to touch her, but seemed to think better of it and clenched his fingers into fists between them. “Come with me on tour and we can…we can—“

“I can’t.” She said evenly, desperately willing the tear in her eye to stay put, but she was exhausted.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a superstar Harry! You’re America’s shining sweetheart! And one day you’re gonna realize that I’m not like you. I’ll only hold you back. I’m not enough for you. And I never will be.” She raised at voice at him. She knew it wasn’t fair to shout at him when she was angry with society, with herself. The metal S still clutched in her palm suddenly felt colder and heavier than before. The chain tangled in between her fingers, refusing to release its hold on her. Perhaps it was actually the other way around. Maybe all she had to do was let it go… Is this what I want? To let go again? To lie again?

“Don’t you get it Y/N! The way you see me, like…like some kind of perfect sparkling star…” He abandoned the invisible barrier between them and grabbed her cheeks between his palms, forcing her to look at him, “that’s exactly how I see you.”

The feeling of hands hot against her skin and the words leaping from his mouth like memorized lyrics ignited a supernova inside her—a familiar blazing fire of joy and guilt and love. She felt paralyzed in his grasp, unable to look away from his eyes where she swore she could see specks of gold dancing around the pools of green.

He continued after a beat, “To me, you’re the brightest goddamn thing in that shitty club! Your heart, Y/N—it’s made of gold! I love the music and I love Mitchy and I love the fame but I’d give it all up in a millisecond for you and regret absolutely nothing.”

His words strummed her heartstrings, the vibrations echoing through her chest, her lungs, her shoulders, and finally, her head. She inhaled a heavy breath, putting all her strength into staying upright and squeezing the ring to her palm. No more lies.

“I know you don’t believe me. I know you. I know you hate yourself, you lie to yourself, you think you’re not…you’re not enough…” “I know everything about you and I still love you…”

Y/N reached up and gingerly placed her hands on top of his, holding his palms against her cheeks. He silenced himself as she held the backs of his hands and moved them behind her head. She tore her eyes away from his, and stepped into him. With a strained exhale, she wrapped her own arms around his waist, the sequins on his jacket rough against her clenched fists which held his ring. The blazing symphony crescendoed inside her as she felt his arms squeeze her into his chest.

There were still so many words left unsaid, so many notes still unplayed. As Y/N cautiously stepped over the line between their worlds, she knew her insecurities would catch up with her. And Harry knew their struggle was far from over. They’d both left each other with uncertainty and guilt and longing and life like neither had never known before.

Their love was the stardust of yesterday, but the sun would rise tomorrow.

happy endings are for weenies. yes i am a weenie.

thank you for reading <3

please kindly reblog & let me know if you enjoyed!

[ratlordsarah]

Monthly crap post for august 💀

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part eleven

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

  Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

 Mallory

The following day started out cloudy but ultimately turned out to be a lovely day. Unfortunately, though, the pale sun in the sky gave little warmth, and Sarah trudged on towards the local park, hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat.

Waking up in a fairly good mood, she decided to go for a walk, and maybe make a trip to the local park. Children’s laughter grew louder and louder until she turned the corner, and there it was. To be honest, it wasn’t much of a park, run down and covered in graffiti, but children are quick to move past that. All that mattered to them was playing, running around, and having fun.

Sarah looked away and sat on a bench, legs crossed one over the other. She checked the time and flipped open the burner phone she kept for contacting Mallory. After five minutes, at precisely eleven o’clock, she selected the only registered number and called.

“Mommy, mommy, look—look at me, mommy,” a little girl called from the swings, her mother smiling and assuring that she, indeed, could see her.

It reminded Sarah so much of her younger self calling out to her mother, and it hurt. She'd visited the playground they used to go to before the Vought trials, but it had become abandoned, all grass and rusty edges. It was sad how it'd been left behind.

She waited for the other end to pick up.

“Hello?” a voice called out, and Sarah smiled lightly.

She paused and breathed out, “Hey Mal, how are you doing?”

Mallory chuckled on the other end, “Well these knees aren’t what they used to be, but I’m okay,” Sarah heard her plop onto the sofa, “More importantly, how are you?”

Sarah ran a hand through the curly tresses that had been blown into her face.

“I guess it’s decent, can’t really complain. I’m still working as a data analyst for the labs, in bioinformatics…,” she trailed off. “But I heard a slot is opening up for a researcher in the developmental biology labs, so I’m going to try and see if they’ll hire me.”

“Please, Sarah—just be careful, keep your eyes open,” she murmured, “always vigilant, alright?”

The young woman stared out at the children crawling over the playground’s castle, tumbling down the slides, running after each other and laughing out of pure, innocent joy.

“Where are you?”

“Neighborhood playground.”

“I thought I heard children. How’s school?”

“Well, actually well, I’ll be finished with my post doc soon enough. They hired me as an assistant professor a couple days ago, I’m teaching a microbiology class for some juniors.”

“That sounds interesting, it would be entertaining to see you teach. You’re a mix of patient and impatient—don’t really know what that would look like in the classroom.”

Sarah snorted lightly, “Fortunately, they seem to be good listeners, quiet and respectful—I don’t know what I’d do if they were a bunch of little arrogant rich kids.”

Mallory too started laughing, thinking back on the young woman’s training. She was proficient in using a great number of weapons and could easily hold her own without one. In an interrogation room, she was skillful in psychologically manipulating a suspect into confessing or giving up information. She spoke multiple languages and was a natural at reading body-language. She had a good eye for meaningful details that are often overlooked. She was the perfect field agent. Mallory had a hard time seeing her as a professor, calmly explaining a powerpoint to a bunch of students.

“I guess it’ll help you further develop that patience of yours,” Mallory surmised.

Sarah couldn’t help but agree.

“Hey, Mallory?” she asked tentatively.

The older woman stilled on the couch, “Yes dear?”

“Do you remember Dr. Roberts? The doctor I saw for my…” she trailed off, searching for a better word, “for my health problems?”

Mallory pursed her lips and stayed silent on the other end.

“I need to contact him—”

Mallory cut in, “What happened? Do you need to come home?”

Worry laced in her voice, the older woman couldn’t help the string of worst scenarios playing in her head. She knew the danger correlated with the young woman’s plan and felt helpless in being left out. If anything happened to the girl, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

 When the dust finally settled, there was nothing left but a crater and a little girl lying amid the smoke and ashes. That’s how they found her: curled in a ball, shivering with her skin covered in soot.

When the perimeter was deemed safe enough, Mallory and a team of experts approached the figure. Alive, yet on the brink of death, the little girl had slipped into a coma, and they were quick to have her internalized in a secured section of a local hospital. Only Mallory and few others had the security clearance to access the small room that held her.

Months passed and the room stayed quiet. Mallory went to gather updates from the doctors once a week. At the CIA they had many hypothesis but couldn’t seem to put together the disaster that had been the implosion of that Vought clinic. She had her underlying suspicions and didn’t trust the little girl who had survived. She had to be enhanced, she had to be a supe. There was no other explanation, no other alternative. And yet, she was the only link that would allow them to piece together the accident. The news had presented it as an explosion due to an accidental chemical explosion, but Mallory knew they were far from the truth.

It was an experimental factory for building little supes. And evidently, it had worked.

The proof of that was the little unknown girl lying in her white, pristine cot.

Mallory would look at her with detachment, knowing the child was probably a victim, and yet not feeling any remorse. She had leveled an entire building.

But then one day, as she watched a nurse report her vitals while tucking the little girl in, she opened her eyes. Afraid and trembling, she looked around wildly and fixated on the woman standing at the door.

With her height and professional attire, she was the epitome of rigidness. Blonde hair perfectly pinned back into a bun. Sharp light blue eyes guarded and alert. The two stared at each other, both with underlying dread and a sliver of fear.

And then something twisted in Mallory. Maybe it was the blatant fear in the young girls’ eyes, or maybe it was the innocent tears trailing down her cheeks.

“Where’s my mommy?”

Mallory moved forward, compelled by some unknown force.

She sat at the girl’s side, “She’s not here at the moment, okay?” she explained softly, tension visible in her rigid shoulders. She had no idea what the little one was capable of, and she didn’t want to find out.

The nurse gently took a hold of her bony wrist, taking her vitals once again. “How are you feeling?”

The little girl wiped at her face, “Sleepy.”

“Okay, and can you tell us your name sweetie?”

She looked up at the strict woman beside her, “Marianna,” she said matter-of-factly before adding, “my mommy calls me Mari.”

As the minutes passed, Mari seemed to grow livelier and more awake, her skin less pale and clammy than before.

The nurse pressed a button on the side of the bed, calling the assigned physician, Dr. Roberts.

“Marianna, I’m going to have to get a little bit of blood so we can have it tested and make sure you’re okay. Is that alright?”

The girl pulled her legs into a crisscrossed position and shrugged her shoulders.

“Okay,” she answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world. The nurse hurried to prepare the syringe and test tube, comparing her to the hundreds of kids who cry and scream in vicinity of a needle.

Marianna watched her sterilize the needle, then looked back at Mallory.

“Can I hold your hand?”

Mallory was left speechless and felt like she should distance herself before growing attached. Nevertheless, she nodded and let Marianna’s small fingers grip her own.

 “Mallory?” Sarah called into the phone, suddenly worried.

The woman was brought out of her memories and focused on the task at hand.

“Why are you bringing this up now? I haven’t heard from Dr. Roberts in years.”

Sarah explained, reciting the story she’d come up with, “I know but I have some samples I took that need to be tested,” she explained. “Discreetly,” she stressed.

Mallory thought about it and let go of the tension in her shoulders, “Alright, I thought something happened with you.”

Sarah felt terrible for lying but couldn’t see any alternative. “No, I’m doing alright, I just need to contact him for these samples. I don’t know anyone else who would do it. And he’s trustworthy.”

Mallory nodded to herself, “Alright, I’ll look for his number and email—I’ll send you the info by tonight.”

“Great, thanks Mal.”

Mallory laughed lightly, “Please, you won’t let me get involved, this is the least I can do.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before saying their goodbyes with the usual promise of talking at the same time next Sunday.

Sarah stayed seated on the park bench for a little while longer, trying her best to recall details on Dr. Roberts. She’d met him only a few times at the hospital after she had woken up from the coma.

 Mallory was seated on the edge of her cot, answering Marianna’s flood of questions. Mostly, she tried to avoid answering questions about her parents. Mallory’s heart squeezed tight every time the little one inquired about their whereabouts, and why they hadn’t still been to see her.

They were waiting for word on her final results, and when Dr. Roberts finally entered, they both fell silent.

“Good morning everyone,” he greeted, lively energy in his movements, “how are you doing today, Marianna?”

The little girl looked at Mallory and answered shyly, “M’okay”

“That sounds great,” he smiled, “I have your test results here and everything is looking good. Great, actually.”

He further explained certain details and made sure to indicate what medications she would need to take over the next few weeks.

Finally, he rose and excused himself to speak with Mallory. In the meantime, the little girl put on the clothes the woman had brought for her.

“She’s really doing fine, she must have some regenerative enhancement as well, because she’s healthier than what she should be.”

“And will the other enhancement manifest?”

“I don’t think so. It seems like it’s linked to the amygdala—the center for processing fear, stress, anxiety, and the likes—" he paused. “The accident took its toll, I think. And when she’ll remember, or you tell her, I think it’s going to effectively shut that part of her down.” He thought about it and added, “Think of it as an emotional wall.”

Mallory nodded, processing the information. The little one might have a chance at a semi-normal life.

“Just follow the instructions on the papers I gave you and you all should be fine. She just needs to be looked after and cared for. It’s going to be a shock when she finds out.”

Mallory agreed and her chest squeezed at the thought of the pain the girl would go through.

She thanked the doctor and headed back into the room.

“Are you ready to go, sweetie?”

She watched the little one scramble off the bed in fresh clothes, a small light blue backpack on her shoulders. It contained some items Mallory had brought her over the course of her stay at the clinic. There was a comb for her unruly hair, chap-stick, some crayons, and a small notebook.

“You remember what we talked about?”

The little girl nodded, “My name is Sarah now.”

Mallory smiled, her usually frigid expression melting away. She reminded her of her grandchildren at home.

“Come on, let’s go meet your new friends.”

Marianna, now officially named Sarah Burns, skipped along with her down a hallway and out of the building. As she climbed into the back of her car, Mallory scanned the premises for any watchful eyes. She slipped into the driver’s seat before looking back at Sarah.

“I was almost forgetting—I got you something,” she said reaching into her jacket pocket.

Sarah’s eyes widened at the Snickers bar she extracted. The little girl laughed and clapped her hands.

 Sarah was pulled back into the present as a little girl ran past her—she felt the movement of air in waves. The woman stood and took her leave, heading back home.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimaveraa @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

[inceptgen]

InceptGen Masterlist

Thank you a million times over to everyone who created works for InceptGen, everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented on gen fanworks, and everyone who cheered people on! This was the first InceptGen fest to run, and we are so happy at how it went!

Also, despite the fact the fest itself is officially over, the InceptGen Collection on AO3 is always open, and we are happy to reblog and signal boost any Gen fanworks that come to our attention! We always say yay to more Gen works! So please keep creating that lovely Gen content, and be sure to let us know when you do!

Without further ado, here is the masterlist of all the fanworks created during our first ever InceptGen Fest! Thank you all!

(Works listed alphabetically by creator)

Art

Moodboard for His Mother’s Hamartia, by @100dabbo

What Happens When Dom Cobb Leaves the Warehouse for One Minute, by @thisarthurandeames​ 

Graphics for Polyhedrons of Fire, by @flosculatory​

Nothing to be Said, by @valkrist

Nothing is Down There, by @valkrist

Downward is the only way Forward, by @valkrist​

Playlists

Give him the kick, by @valkrist​

A Robert Fischer playlist!

Fic

His Mother's Hamartia by @100dabbo

4.3k words, rated M, creator chose not to use archive warnings

Robert Fischer’s mother was the only person he ever cared about. The years leading up to her death had some of his fondest - and foulest - memories.

Sus-ception, by aristotle-chipotle

10.3k words, rated T, no archive warnings apply

Tasked with setting up subconscious training exercises for the team before the job, Ariadne gets the idea to design a world based on her new favorite video game.

Six players. One imposter. All they have to do is vote the right person off. It's a test of instinct and intuition, and good practice for working as a team. But working as a team isn't easy when you're on an unstable spaceship straight out of a nightmare, and you don't know who you can trust.

What could possibly go wrong?

Cauchemars & Rêveries by @aquietthinker​

1k words, rated T, graphic depictions of violence

Maybe it was all real. Maybe when the wall finally crushed his skull and punctured his lungs he would actually die and be left there to rot.

Or maybe they were still in a dream, and he would open his eyes back in the warehouse with the only pain on his body being the needle on his wrist.

Or: Team bonding after Arthur has a particularly bad nightmare.

The Plaid Scarf by @aquietthinker​

870 words, rated G, creator chose not to use archive warnings

While shopping with Eames in order to get a break from stress and work, Ariadne notices a familiar face in the crowd.

Captain's Log by @deinvatiwrites​

559 words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

Who in their right mind would put Dominic Cobb in charge of a Starship?

polyhedrons of fire by @flosculatory​

1.5k words, rated T, no archive warnings apply

In which Cobb heard that slide transitions are the future, if he could just get his team to sit down and pay attention. 

outfitting of the budget-conscious dream thief by hardscrabble/@valhecka​

877 words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

“Look, I mean. It’s been slim pickings, and you go and buy a flat and get that charity off the ground and you’re still wearing new suits every day. Do you have a money tree?”

The Art of Precious Scars by @iamanonniemouse

5.7k words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

When Phillipa was a little girl, she knew what her parents were doing, but she didn’t understand.

She knew that they were researching and developing something that made them very excited. She knew it involved a shiny box with clear, octopus-tentacle tubes, and she knew it made them sleepy.

But she didn’t understand what exactly that shiny box did, or how dangerous it could be.

And she certainly didn’t understand that it would be the thing that tore her family apart.

Destined by @iamanonniemouse

2.1k, rated G, no archive warnings apply

Yusuf has always been destined for greatness.

Rich & Famous  by @iamanonniemouse

411 words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

There’s a loud sigh. “Eames.”

“Yusuf.”

“You told me we were going on a supplies run.”

“This is supplies!”

“I need a new bunsen burner!”

“Not my fault you blew the last one up.”

Selvedge by lazarov/@shmazarov​

2.9k words, rated T, no archive warnings apply

Arthur signs on to be Dom's accomplice — er, associate. Dom insists on getting him a signing bonus.

Or: Arthur learns to love the cut of a goddamn beautiful suit.

Tightrope by @little-specificity​

2.1k words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

Arthur’s city has no clouds, he’s surrounded by pretty lights and his tattoo kills him.

Lavender Breeze by @stormofsharpthings​

631 words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

Well, Cobb is not Vader, at least...

Of Nightmares and Neurotransmitters by @stormofsharpthings​

828 words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

A dream goes askew and the team needs a nap. Yep. That’s pretty much it.

Dreams Pay by @valkrist​

104 words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

Haikus!

Too Many War Wounds (Not Enough Wars) by @winterskywrites​

5.5k words, rated T, no archive warnings apply; tagged for aftermath of torture

Pain is in the mind. Unfortunately, so are dreams.

Pity Wig by @deinvatiwrites​, @flosculatory​, @iamanonniemouse, @stormofsharpthings​

575 words, rated G, no archive warnings apply

Glitter is really craft herpes, you know?

(alternatively: this is what happens when you take the team to a thrift shop and find a glittery wig)

[stubbornness-and-spite]

the ink on our skin and the blood in our hearts(are intertwined): Chapter One

I finally wrote the EJ/Nini/Ricky soulmate fic I’ve been craving(the first 5 chapters at least). AO3 link in reblog 

previous chapter | next chapter

Fandom: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series

Genre: slowburn soulmate au with sprinklings of fluff and angst

Notes: I didn’t want to rewrite scenes that were essentially the same as canon just with a little bit of soulmate au mixed in, so I only wrote in the scenes that were either different or we didn’t see them in canon to begin with. Any scenes I left out happened basically the same as canon. 

In this universe, soulmates share any ink or marks on their skin after the youngest soulmate turns 16. Makeup companies design their products to not transmit through soulbonds. 

Let me know if anything(timeline/universe/POV switches/etc) is unclear and if I should edit. I’m open to critisism, but be aware that this is unbetaed and I am writing it for fun. 

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1471

Summary: Ricky Bowen and Nini Salazar-Roberts have known they were going to be soulmates since they were in kindergarten. They had is all planned out. Ricky would turn sixteen to blank skin and two months later when Nini turned sixteen, their skin would share ink. Fate cares little for the plans of kindergarteners.

E.J. Caswell doesn't believe in soulmates. Oh, he believes that there are people who share ink, but he doesn't believe that marks on anyone's skin are enough to dictate how people live their lives. He's never seen a mark on his own skin and he never plans to make a mark his soulmate can see. Fate cares as much for the stubbornness of teenagers as she does the plans of kindergarteners.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

~

Ricky POV

When Ricky turned sixteen, his arms were blank, and he called Nini immediately.

“Nini, Nini, Nini!” he shouted into the phone as soon as she answered. “I don’t have any marks!”

“Ricky?” Nini asked groggily, yawning and blinking sleep from her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just after midnight on my sixteenth birthday!” Ricky exclaimed. “Why are you asleep?”

Nini yawned. “Because it’s also just after midnight during tech week, and I had rehearsal until 11 and again at 6 am tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Ricky mumbled.

“It’s fine,” Nini replied. She yawned and sat up. “I’m awake now. Tell me what happened!”

“I have no marks!” Ricky exclaimed again.

“Oh?” Nini asked. “ Oh, ” she repeated. “Your soulmate’s younger than you.”

“Or I don’t have one, or they just never bothered to write anything, but what are the odds of that?” Ricky asked through a wide grin. “Now we just have to wait until your birthday!”

“Two months,” Nini said softly. “Two months and we’ll know.”

“Yeah,” Ricky sighed fondly. “Two months.”

“What if-” Nini cut herself off and started again. “What if we don’t match? What if my birthday comes and I don’t have any marks either or I have someone else’s marks?”

“It won’t happen, Nini,” Ricky reassured her. “And if it does, we’ll figure it out.”

(chapter continues under the cut)

Two months went by quickly. Ricky went to see Nini perform in some show he couldn’t remember the name of. He didn’t know enough about theater to compliment her properly, so he told her that she lit up the stage. He also gave her a few compliments that he’d picked from a list online. It was the thought that counted.

They spent most of their free time in Nini’s bedroom or Big Red’s basement, swapping stories that they both already knew.

Ricky begged his dad to let him stay the night at Nini’s on her sixteenth birthday, and they stayed up until midnight to see if anything appeared on her skin. Around 11:30, Nini changed into her shortest pair of shorts and a tube top to show as much of her skin as possible. At 11:45, Ricky considered writing on his hand for the first time but decided not to, wanting to wait until he could see the line appear on Nini’s hand too. At 12:01, a splotch of ink appeared on Nini’s right shoulder. At 12:02, Ricky stopped breathing.

“I didn’t do that,” he whispered. “I didn’t spill ink on my shoulder.” His hand drifted to cover the spot on his shirt that mirrored the mark on Nini’s shoulder.

Nini tugged a sweater on and slid her legs under the blanket. “This doesn’t have to change anything. I love you, Ricky.”

“I-” Ricky’s eyes were wide. “I don’t-” His breathing quickened. “Maybe we should take a pause. You’re going away for the summer and I just-” His breath caught. “I need some time, Nini.”

“Okay,” Nini murmured. “Okay.”

“I’m just going to-” Ricky pointed at Nini’s bedroom door and stumbled towards it, clumsily pulling it open. “I’ll see you?” Nini didn’t respond and Ricky pulled the door shut.

~

Carol had driven him home without asking any questions, which Ricky was grateful for because he didn’t think he could answer without crying. Soulmates were supposed to be the thing that kept people together. He thought he loved Nini, but Ricky knew that wasn’t enough. His parents were proof of that. They’d both gone against the system when they were younger and had thought they were in love with people who weren’t their soulmates, but they had ended up together anyway. Nothing was stronger than soulmates and Nini wasn’t his.

Ricky slipped in his front door without waking his dad and fell asleep in his clothes, on top of his blankets, never noticing the spot of ink on his shoulder that was washed away by morning.

~

The summer went by in a blur. Ricky swore up and down it was the longest summer he’d ever lived, but at the same time, it was over in the blink of an eye and he was seeing Nini again.

He wanted to try again with her. Maybe soulmates weren’t everything because he was miserable without Nini. Maybe even if they did end up with their soulmates eventually, they could share the rest of high school with each other.

“I met someone.”

Ricky’s heart stopped. “You’re kidding, right? It was a break, not a breakup.”

“Well, it’s a breakup now.”

And what the hell was he supposed to do with that?

~

EJ POV

EJ was glad when his sixteenth birthday rolled around and his skin was blank. Maybe he was one of the lucky few without a soulmate. He hated the idea of soulmates. He wanted to control his own life, to decide for himself who he was going to spend it with, not have his life dictated by whose skin shared ink with his.

He went out of his way to make sure he never wrote on himself or let anyone else draw or write on his skin. He carried bandaids and wipes with him everywhere so if he ever got a cut, he could keep the blood from staining his soulmate’s skin. Ashlynn insisted that he was being ridiculous, but EJ was adamant. He was not going to have a soulmate. He was going to love whoever he wanted.

And he did. He dated a lot of different girls and didn’t care at all when they left him for their soulmates, whether they had met them yet or not. He didn’t care at all. He just moved onto the next girl.

He made it until the summer before his eighteenth birthday without incident. The few times he got ink on himself, a few times on his hands, and once on his left shoulder when a pen burst, he washed it off completely before the next day and he never saw a message back.

The summer before he turned eighteen he met Nini. She was the first girl he’d met who had turned sixteen, seen her soulmate marks, and wasn’t searching for her soulmate. He fell a little bit in love with her right then and there. Then he heard her sing and saw her act and he fell for her even more. By the time they actually started talking, EJ was head over heels for the girl and ready to run away from the soulmate system and off into the sunset with her.

“Where are you headed once camp’s over?” EJ asked, as close to Nini as he could be without actually having his arm around her.

“Back to Salt Lake City,” she replied. “We go to the same school, EJ.”

“I’m stupid!” EJ hit his forehead with his palm and grinned. “How have we not talked before now? You’re amazing.”

Nini snorted and rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’re sweet. I’ve been kind of under a rock for the past few years. I’ve been in the ensemble of the last few musicals but I really only talk to Kourtney, Big Red, and…” she trailed off.

“Who else?” EJ prompted.

“Ricky,” Nini said, her voice turning slightly sharp. Her bright smile dimmed. “We’ve been friends since kindergarten and kinda-dating since middle school. We started actually dating at the start of sophomore year. We kind of broke up when summer started.”

“How do you kind of break up with someone?” EJ asked. “How does anyone break up with you?”

Nini laughed. “He’s a few months older than me and we always thought we’d be soulmates, so he was really excited when his skin was blank on his sixteenth birthday, but when my sixteenth birthday rolled around and I had ink on me that he hadn’t drawn, he freaked out. He was supposed to be my soulmate, whatever the ink on our skin said, but when he saw someone else’s ink, he said we should “take a break.” Whatever that means.”

“It means he’s not good enough for you,” EJ said, smiling earnestly.

“And you are?” Nini asked.

EJ sputtered. “I wasn’t saying that, but…” he hesitated. “I’d like to try to be? If that’s something you want too?”

“EJ Caswell, are you asking me out?”

EJ coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was that not clear?”

Nini pushed her hair out of her face and grinned. “No, it was clear, but I want you to ask me properly anyway.”

EJ pulled away from her and lifted himself up onto one knee. “Nini… I-don’t-know-your-last-name,”

“Salazar-Roberts,” Nini said, her smile practically splitting her face.

“Nini Salazar-Roberts,” EJ continued. “Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

Nini pretended to think it over. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

Nini leaned forward and kissed him quickly. “If you be my boyfriend.”

~

Taglist - let me know if you want to be added or removed!

@after-nine-at-the-oasis

[la-luna-es-hermosa]

Squirt (Kai x Reader)

※ Title: Squirt

※ Businessman!AU || Businessman!Jongin || Rich people AU!

※ One-shot || Genre: Smut || Just plain smut || Squirting

※ Paring: Kai x Reader

※ Summary: When (Y/N) turned 21, Jongin, her boyfriend wanted to explore deeper into their relationship.

※ Warning(s): Age Gap

※ Word Count: 2,278

※ Note: I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep my promise. I just didn’t have any motivation on what to write since I am also arranging my writing commissions, I hope you can check it out! I’m just gathering interest as of right now since I have not arranged my PayPal yet (probably it will be open as soon as next year starts)

※ Main Masterlist || Commissions 

Just right after her 21st birthday, (Y/N) and Jongin went on a hotel suite. Being her long time lover. Their relationship is quite secretive. Of course, Jongin has a name to maintain, as a CEO of a real estate company, he would never let anyone know their relationship and ruin his reputation. Their age gap alone is problematic, what more if they know Jongin’s into BDSM? They’ve been having connections since she was 18. (Y/N) being the daughter of one of his business partners, his main contractor, Robert.

Laying on her eyes was something Jongin never thought. When he saw the girl with Robert. Coming from school and sitting in the field office working hard on her school works, he immediately fell hard on her. He even frequented her country, (Country) to just see her. He fell madly in love with her. But, just like him, she fell hard on him too. But she stops herself. Seeing him remove his safety hat, his forehead was dripping with sweat, damn! That is where she fell really hard for him.

But as a CEO, Jongin was pressured by his parents to get married. 

“Jongin, baby, please get married already. Your father did not die and give this company to you if you’re just going to make it your life.” His mom said in dismay.

“But who am I going to marry?” Jongin asked. He already has someone in mind, but he doesn’t want to get married to (Y/N), yet, we mean, he can’t.

“The daughters of our business partners. There are a lot of them. Jennie and Seungyeon are really pretty.” His mother responded to him. Both women are his type, but it ain’t it.

“No. If I’m going to marry someone, I’d like that someone to be someone I want to be with forever. I want (Y/N).” When those words came out of Jongin’s mouth, his mother was shocked.

“Sweetie, no. (Y/N), she’s too young for you. Please understand that.” His mom thought of a reply. He can’t marry (Y/N) that is what his mom knows for sure.

Agreeing on a daddy-babygirl kind of relationship is intense in itself, but they never did the deed. Jongin felt bad about fucking her. - Right timing. Right after they arrive on the beautiful island of Amanpulo, Jongin will execute his other intentions. It was a night beautifully planned. Jongin has been waiting four goddamn years to execute all of this. He will surely devour the woman in front of him.

While Jongin was carrying her, - bridal style, of course, she knows it already. She knows what will happen. Jongin finally arrived at the suite’s huge bedroom, he just kicked the door open. He dropped her in the Narra wood desk. Her hands are holding on the table, scared of what is happening next. The impatient man started undoing the lace that tied the beautiful long gown together. The dress was insanely beautiful. - it was in a lavender purple, with white pearls decorated around the long beautiful train. Though admiring the beauty of the dress, Jongin wants her out of that dress. - instantly.

When the lace was done being undone, the dress instantly fell on the brown carpeted floor. But Jongin was in for a treat. The beautiful dress soon revealed the lingerie. - The oh-so cliche lingerie girls wear on the night of their lives, she was extremely waiting for it. (Y/N), herself was skeptical about wearing it. Thinking it was too risky, it was her friend Rose who suggested she wear the lingerie. 

After seeing the beautiful black lace corset, hugging her curves just right, paired with matching black lace thongs and black lace stockings, Jongin’s eyes and erection were in for a treat tonight. His ever-growing member stood still, having the tight feeling in his black pants. He can’t stand it. He’s so impatient… he wants to ram his not-so-little Jongin on her little pussy.

He unbuckled his black belt immediately. Then he unzipped his pants. - Barely removing it. His hard member immediately stood up. The man didn’t wear underwear, a stupid decision on his part. His member was around 8 inches long, fat and veiny, dripping with precum. Then, he grabbed something from his pocket. - A small tube of lube. “Daddy’s gotta lube up or else I can't fit it.” He had a bigger smirk in him as he started putting lube on his hard cock.

“Why can’t you have sex with me without lube? I’m wet enough daddy, am I? I want it inside of me too, not just you.” The debutant asked him. In a very seducing voice. Where did she fucking learn that from? He asked himself. Maybe from watching porn? He continued his doubts. But hot damn! She really wants him just as much as he wanted him. From the beginning, Jongin knew she’s only stopping herself from doing that.

“Sorry baby girl, but daddy’s impatient.” Before the girl could even tell him she’s a virgin, Jongin set aside her panties. He did not even have the patience to remove it. He needs a quick release. - right here, right now. It earned a high pitched moan. He flipped her over, seeing his beautiful girl. He finally inserted his very hard cock on her wet pink folds. (Y/N) is excited and scared at the same time.

(Y/N) was quick to expect pain from Jongin. Looking that he’s already so horny and his eyes are filled with lust, she closed her eyes quickly. He saw what she was doing. So he decided to carefully insert the huge cock in her. Inch by inch. He did put the lube, just for some lubrication, though she’s really wet already. “Baby girl, please don’t worry, I won’t hurt you… and damn you’re right…” Jongin affectionately said. 

Kissing her pinkish lips. It was a soft kiss, as soft as cotton candy, but the kiss was mostly tongue, she can taste the Lechon and Lechon sauce from Jongin’s mouth. He was finished drilling his cock on her tight little pussy, earning a moan from the younger woman. He started it at a devilishly slow pace. “Daddy please faster! Let’s move to the bed…” She grabbed his back that was still heavily clothed. Unlike before she doesn’t feel the sharp pain anymore.

Jongin was quick to follow, cause he’s so fucking horny, also it turns him on when she begs on him. The guy carried the woman again but to the bed this time. Her legs spread wide. Then, thrusting, he went from 1 to 100, devilishly slow to devilishly fast. She was panting from the pleasure she’s receiving. She arched her back, ‘cause holy fuck if someone can give you as good of a sex Mr. Kim Jongin can, you will arch your back no matter what. “Fuck Jongin, fuck! Daddy oh my God!” She moaned loudly, then, she could feel a knot forming on her stomach. All from this intense pleasure of course.

Jongin did not hesitate to make her cum. The girl deserves it. Since this horny bastard is still not going to cum any minute now. Even when (Y/N), his little girl - correction his wife, already spat out her sticky come and is currently riding her orgasm, the horny fuck still fucks her real good. “Daddy, I'm too sensitive!” She moaned at him as she tried to remove his coat from him. 

While still roughly thrusting into her pussy, damn! This guy has God-level stamina, he proceeded to get his hands from her back and tear his own shirt. Out of more raging impatience, he tore her panties apart too. He kicked his own pants and now he is completely naked. He started thrusting harder than ever, earning a moan from (Y/N) who was writhing with sensitivity. “Daddy, ah! Fuck, please Jongin faster”

The young lady is about to release her own come as well. “Damn I waited so long to touch you… I’ve waited three damn years to touch you” The man exclaimed. He really waited that long to actually have sex with her. - He punishes her by butt spanking, but never sex. When he’s needy, he always asks her for oral sex. When she’s the one needy, he fingers her, but never inserts his gigantic length in her.

“Fuck! You felt so good, it was all worth it!” Jongin moaned louder as the young girl digs her sharp painted nails in his back, whimpering and silently moaning his name like a mantra. Encouraging Jongin to just slam his length on her a bit harder as his pace was getting quite slow.

His cock buried deep into her slit even more. But as much as the two don’t want the fun to stop, Jongin ends up cumming on her little pussy. It also timed in with the young woman’s release, coating his monster cock “Baby…” He hugged her tightly as he flipped their positions. (Y/N) is now on top of him, his back on the comfortable mattress. With his skillful hands, he started removing the corset from her body. Unhooking it one by one, earning a moan from the young one.

“Am I really too young for you?” She asked him. She was blushing way redder than any tomatoes. Of course, she would ask that, with their unbearable age gap of 10 years. He was distracted when he saw her small boobs pop from the restraints of the corset. It was small, yes, but Jongin likes it enough. As much as he likes sexy ladies, he does not really go for the tits. He’s an ass guy. Everyone knows that for sure.

“No… baby girl, you’re just right.” Jongin kissed her boobs and started sucking on them. Just like that, he can earn a moan from her. Everything he does turns this horny bitch on. Then, he drifted on her neck, sucking it in. Since her beautifully curled hair was getting out of the way, she grabs a conveniently placed black hair tie on the Narra wood nightstand.

When her hair was sloppily tied, Jongin began planting butterfly kisses on her collarbone. Earning a moan from the little girl. He found her sensitive spot and left a hickey on the area. “Round 2?” Jongin asked, smirking, he was turned on yet again when he saw his cum dripping all over her. It was dripping all over her little pussy, Jongin was fine with it, her pussy had sparse pubic hair over it, but nothing is different. - He saw her grow in every aspect.

“Oh my God, really…” She smirked at him as she got on the other side of the bed. She grabbed one of the white pillows, laying her head on it. Then, she lifted her ass up, laying her head on the pillow, looking into Jongin’s eyes. She wanted Jongin to fuck her doggy style this time.

Jongin was immediate to respond. He stood on his knees and got on her ass. “Baby girl, wanna film ya?” He asked her in a very seducing voice, slapping her. If (Y/N) can seduce, definitely Jongin sounds like he’s a sex God or something with his seducing abilities. He’s absolutely charming indeed. That is the reason why she fell in love with him.

She immediately responded to him, smirking, “Sure daddy”, Jongin immediately grabbed his phone from the nightstand and opened his camera app. His member was showing as well as (Y/N)’s ass, which he slapped. When the video started rolling, she was moaning loudly as he thrust his member yet again in her hole. He can never get enough of her. It gained, even more, moans from the young lady.

"Daddy… Please… I'm near." The young girl begged. He thrust harder as he started rubbing her clit with his calloused fingers. She started gripping onto the bedsheet as she arched her back. Jongin growled as he could feel her g-spot. He moved his phone on the nightstand, the camera still rolling in front of them.

Her velvety pink walls clenching at every thrust he makes. "(Y/N), you're so tight… please know that I love you!" He told her as he got his cock out of her tight hole and entered his three big fingers in her little hole. He went on her back, the said fingers snaked on her hole. He started roughly thrusting his fingers back and forth on her.

Legs spread as wide as ever, (Y/N) arched her back and gripped on the silky bedsheet. Arching her back so sexily in front of the beast that is devouring her. Her eyes rolled above with so much pleasure he is giving to her. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I think I am in heaven!" Her soft yet fragile voice said. His fingers had thrust enough and just as expected, watery substance started to leak out of her pussy. It was like an explosion."Fuck! You cum so well!" Jongin expressed.

Then, he moved out. He walked in front of her as his tongue went on her pussy to leak her cum clean. "Daddy is so good with his tongue, isn't he? Ah..." (Y/N) teasingly said with a moan as her fingers ran through his silky black hair. His hands opening her legs wide. - Showing her milky thighs. When he finished licking all of her cum clean, "You're so delicious." Jongin said as he licked his fingers in front of her.

Right after he cleaned his fingers, "Are you ready?" He suddenly asked her. "Yes." She firmly answered, panting heavily on the bed. She can feel her body shaking with all the action they did.

"Let's continue, this time, privately," Jongin said with a smirk

[ghostofbrock]

I’m drunk, remember when you needed me?

never in a million years did mattia think he would have to be the strict parent yet there he was grounding luke for getting into trouble at school. mattia always thought that he was going to be the fun parent, the parent that his kid could tell anything to and bond so easily with.

luke’s school called both of his parents which haven’t spoken or seen each other since the little intervention at the cosentino household. they only talked through text which was mainly about the kids schedules and stuff like that, nothing else.

sara and mattia stood outside of the school with luke, talking about what his punishment should be and what it not should be. as usual mattia wasn’t cooperating with sara’s suggestions and didn’t listen to anything she had to say.

“he can’t control his actions sometimes, mattia! you know that so don’t be so harsh on him.” sara clenched her jaw. “but he knows better! and he’s getting too old for that ADHD excuse, sara. you can’t always blame that for his behavior!” mattia raised his voice at her.

“for fucks sake, mattia, the doctor even said the ADHD is the reason he has bad behavior and can’t control it sometimes!” she reminds him. “we have to be there for him when he struggles with it, mattia. not punish him.” sara adds making mattia roll his at her.

“it doesn’t even matter anymore, sara. you’re leaving in a few days so you won’t even be here most of the time.” mattia scoffed at her and folds his arm over his chest. “you’re right. so tonight i’m taking the kids and i’m not taking them back to your place until the day i leave. so for right now luke is coming with me.” she holds luke’s hand and smirks at mattia who had steam practically coming out of his ears.

“like hell he is!” mattia tries grabbing luke but he moves away from mattia’s grip. “you can’t do this. we had an agreement, sara.” mattia sighs in annoyance. “mattia, calm down you’re acting like it’s the end of the world.” sara rolls her eyes.

it feels like it since we aren’t together anymore.

he thought to himself.

“you sure you want to go with your mom?” mattia asked his son with a stern look. luke looks up at his dad and nods, slowly going behind sara to hide from mattia who was starting to scare him.

“what a momma’s boy.” mattia mumbles to himself.

“fine. you two have fun doing whatever you guys do when i’m not around.” mattia gave them a sarcastic smile before harshly giving luke’s backpack to sara. he walks off, pulling his hair as he does so and walks to his jeep.

sara and luke walk to her car, hand in hand. once they get into the car, the eleven year old breaks down.

“i-i’m sorry, mommy. i didn’t mean to upset you.” he sobs as she wraps her arm around him. “no, baby. you didn’t upset me. your dad did.” sara sighs as she messes with her son’s hair to sooth him. “don’t ever think that i’m upset because of you.” she adds and kisses his little head.

“i don’t like living with him anymore. i feel trapped.” he confesses. “why?” sara asked. “he’s so strict and mean. i don’t like him like this. i miss how things used to be.” his words were breaking sara’s heart.

she had no idea her baby was feeling this way. usually her kids tell her everything, but now it feels like they can’t tell her anything because they’re either scared or just don’t want to worry her.

she also wanted to defend mattia since luke called him mean which wasn’t true at all. mattia is and will never be a “mean dad”. he’s just strict so his kids won’t end up in the streets in the future and wants what’s best for his kids. they’re too young to understand him but eventually will understand him when they have their own kids.

she brushed off what luke said and changed the subject.

“let’s grab some mcdonald’s for lunch and then head to my house, yeah?” she asked making a little smile appear on his face. “as long as i get a happy meal then i’ll be fine.” he remarks making her chuckle before starting her car.

they got their food from mcdonald’s and went to her house after. they ate, watched movies and luke showed sara some dances he learned from dance class.

“not to brag or anything, but i’m learning some of those tik tok dances dad did when he was younger.” luke laughs as he places his hands on his hips. “so you gonna show me or what, lukey?” she asks with a laugh.

the next thing you know he’s doing the renegade and sara’s dying laughing on her couch while her son does the renegade better than mattia, alejandro and kairi did.

“okay, you’ve officially got it in the bag.” she smirks at him while he turns a shade of pink on his checks. “now i think it’s time to pick up your brothers and sister, yeah? maybe we should build a blanket fort and order some pizza and watch some disney movies tonight.” sara suggests with a warm smile.

“you really are the fun parent.” luke comments before putting his shoes and jacket on. it was almost five o’clock when sara arrived at mattia’s house where her kids were waiting for her on the porch with huge smiles on their faces. mattia had a frown whilst leaning against a pillar with his arms folded over his chest. he stood up, telling the kids to go ahead and kissed them each goodbye before they went with their mom and drove off with her.

mattia let out a sigh before turning in his heels and walking back into his house. he went into his kitchen and opened his pantry to see what he would make for himself for dinner. he observed all the food yet he wasn’t one bit the hungriest. he thought to himself for a moment, he reached into the pantry and moved the box of cereals at the top out of the way to show bottles of liquor in the way back that he had hidden there.

for the record, mattia hadn’t had an once of alcohol in his system for almost a year thanks to his sponsor he met at a rehab center once he and sara split. mattia was supposed to throw out every bottle of alcohol he had in his household and he did for a while. then when he’d have little get togethers with his close friends or his parents and younger brother, they’d bring liquor or wine as some sort of offering or gift for the little gathering. mattia kept them out of sight and hid them where his kids or anyone else wouldn’t find them besides himself.

he was pulled out of his thoughts by his phone ringing in the island in the kitchen. he puts the cereals back on the top shelf quickly and closes the pantry before getting his phone and answering it.

“hey bitch ass, me and kairi got permission to go out tonight and we were wondering if you wanted come with us?” alejandro’s voice came from the other side of the phone. “where?” mattia asked with a sigh. “that new bar they opened up like two months ago. robert said that it’s pretty good and they play all of the throw backs. so me and kai wanted to try it out.” alejandro explained.

at the moment, mattia really didn’t want to go out, he wanted to be left alone. that’s how he’s been feeling lately, the need of wanting to feel alone. he feels like he deserves it as a form of punishment to himself for what he did to sara and what he told her. the hate for himself grew ever since the day he kissed her which was something he needed.

“you still there?” alejandro asked when mattia wasn’t responding and got lost in his own thoughts. “uh yeah, sorry i zoned out for a minute. but yeah, i’ll go with you guys. just send me the addy.” mattia said as he cleared his throat after. “great. see you there.” alejandro responded before hanging up.

mattia changed out of his sweats and into some jeans and a polo shirt before leaving his house. he pulled up to the bar and went inside looking for his best friends.

“over here!” kairi’s voice yelled was heard from the other side of the bar where he and alejandro were sitting at. mattia walked over to them with a small grin.

“this place is kind of a vibe.” mattia lightly laughed as he looked around the bar. there was color changing lights on the ceiling, a glass counter at the bar, posters of movies that came out in the early 2010’s and of music artists from 20 years ago. it was definitely something that looked like it came straight out of the 2010’s. either way it was mainly for people from that generation.

“it really is. i feel old.” alejandro laughs. “anyways, let’s get this night started yeah?” alejandro smirks at his best friends. “first round is on me.” he adds.

“dude, you know i don’t drink anymore.” mattia says through gritted teeth. “and i’m not forcing you to. i’ll get you a water if you’d like.” he winks at mattia before walking off to go get some drinks.

“how does it feel to not have one once of jack daniels in your system, tia?” kairi asks as a joke. “oh shut up, kai.” he rolls his eyes playfully in response. as the night went on and the good times occurred, about two or three hours the trio had been at the bar, a familiar face come into the bar looking pretty and lonely.

mattia nor his best friends payed attention to anyone at the bar since they were just there for each other and wanted a good time with the boys, that’s all it was going to be.

so when the boys broke out into laughter at the table they were sitting at, a few people glanced at them but not for long. however, this particular girl stayed staring at the three before she realized who they were. she drowned the shot she just bought minutes prior before walking over to them with a smile filled with confidence.

“oh my god, hey guys.” they all snapped their heads to face her. she wore a yellow tube top with a white mini skirt with her hair curled. “oh hey, kristina.” mattia said slightly awkward. kairi and alejandro immediately felt the tension between kristina and mattia and were going to find out why as soon as she leaves.

“you know her?” alejandro asks. “yeah. she’s ellie’s cheer coach.” matti explained making alejandro and kairi glance at each other. “what are you guys doing here?” she asked with a warm smile.

“it’s boys night.” kairi answers before taking a sip of his beer. “which means it’s just for the boys so... bye.” kairi said rudely which caught mattia off guard.

“bro, don’t be rude. she’s really chill.” mattia defended her which made ale and kairi even more curious in why mattia was defending a girl who wasn’t his wife, mother or daughter.

“pull up a seat. you can sit with us so none of these creeps will think you’re alone and vulnerable.” mattia told kristina with a smile which made her blush. meanwhile alejandro and kairi got even more pissed since it really was boys night and they wanted to spend time with each other. plus, alejandro and kairi are still with their wives and if the paparazzi were to barge in and take photos of them with kristina then their wives would kill them, literally.

“it’s really weird seeing you guys together in person. i remember i used to be obsessed with all of you when i was a teenager.” kristina comments. “really? why?” kairi asked which made mattia shoot him a glare.

“who was your favorite?” alejandro asked out of curiosity and took a sip of his beer. “at first it was you, alejandro. then i lost interest for some reason and went to mattia’s lane.” alejandro chocked on his beer. “wrong pipe.” he managed to say as he coughed.

“well you made the right choice. i am more handsome than these two.” mattia jokes making kristina laugh with a blush on her cheeks. kairi rolled his eyes and alejandro shook his head at how.... flirty the two were being towards each other.

“mattia, can i talk to you for a second?” kairi asked his best friend. “why? if you have to say something then say it out-“ kairi didn’t let mattia finish his sentence and instead he got up from his seat and dragged mattia away and took him outside of the bar.

“what in heaven’s sake wrong with you?” he yelled at mattia which caught him off guard. “chill out. i have no clue what you’re talking about.” mattia laughed but stopped when kairi shoves him.

“yo, what the hell?” mattia asked.

“why are you flirting with her? you two fucking on the low or what?” kairi asked in frustration. “what? hell no.” mattia answers immediately.

“she’s just a friend, kai. you’re being dramatic.” mattia rolled his eyes. “me? dramatic. i’m trying to help you, mattia!” kairi yelled.

“help me? what do you mean, help me!?” mattia raised his voice, panting as well.

“i’m trying to help you save your marriage because apparently you don’t give a shit about it! you walk around here like nothing is wrong, when it is! your family is falling apart and you don’t even know it! i hate to be the one to tell you this, bro, but if you don’t fix things with sara and your kids then you’re going to lose everything that you’ve worked so fucking hard for! and if you keep this shit up with not only kristina but with other women then i don’t want to hang around you anymore. sara’s not only your wife but she also a sister to me and alejandro. she plays a huge part in all of our lives yet you’re willing to let it go for some chick who doesn’t even know your middle name. seeing you with someone else besides sara feels like i’m betraying her. she’s been through so much and the fact that you’re not there anymore to comfort her sucks. and i get it, you guys might not get along anymore but deep down i know you two miss each other so damn much. i can tell you still love her and she loves you too. she’s the only girl who’s given you the chance to have a family of your own and more, why let that all go, mattia?”.

kairi pretty much lashed out at mattia which caught him off guard. reality had just hit mattia once again like a lacrosse stick to the head. mattia grabbed kairi’s arm before speaking.

“mind your own business. the shit that goes on in my life has nothing to do with you so stay out of it.” mattia was being stubborn which made kairi let out an annoyed sigh.

“you know what, bro? i’m done. i’m done trying to be a good friend to you and your family. i’m leaving.” kairi scoffed at his best friend and shrugged him off. he then walked away and got to his car. and if things couldn’t get worse, alejandro barged out of the bar with a stern face. he shot mattia a death glare before walking passed him and to his car.

mattia stood there and watched them drive away before going into the bar again. kristina was still sitting at the table where the boys were sitting at minutes prior. she sat there awkwardly but then it all washed away when mattia sat back down next to her.

“what happened?” kristina asked as she placed her hand on his shoulder. “nothing. it’s not important.” mattia answered lowly. “well in that case, let me buy you a drink?” she smirks at him.

mattia wasn’t thinking anymore at this point. he needed closure and wasn’t getting it so he nodded because he didn’t want to feel things anymore and that’s what the alcohol always provided him.

it always took the pain away.

the two chatted and shared a few beers together until mattia realized how late it was getting. he definitely was drunk but he could care less. he up from his stool but was pushed down by kristina.

“come onnn, just a little longer.” she slurred and licked her lips. “naw, i-i can’t. i have to get home.” mattia rubs his temples and moves away from her grip. “mattia, baby, just one last drink and i’ll take you home.” she got closer to him and whispered in his ear. he got goosebumps down his spine but not the good kind. it felt wrong to him, even though he was drunk he wasn’t wasted enough sleep with her.

besides, he couldn’t do that to his sara.

“no. i appreciate the company but i want to go home.” he forced himself to say and let out a burp right after. she then tried grabbing his hand and placing it on her ass but he immediately moved his hand and pushed her away harshly.

“what the fuck is wrong with you? i have a wife!” he raised his voice at her making a few people turn their direction then looked away. “a wife that doesn’t love you anymore? yeah, she’s a keeper.” kristina laughs at him for being pathetic about sara’s love for him.

“she’s a worthless whore, mattia. when are you going to realize that?” she added with a scoff. mattia apparently become a little bit more sober once he heard what she said about his wife which boiled his blood.

“the only whore i know is you, kristina. sara is the best thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life, she’s more of a woman than you’ll ever be. and if i hear you say another bad thing about her then i won’t hesitate to tell your boss that you tried sleeping with one of your cheerleader’s parent. got it?” he said through gritted teeth and with smoke coming out of his ears because of how mad he was.

there was no way he was going to let anyone talk bad about sara, together or not. he wouldn’t let that slide.

all kristina did was nodded and whimpered when mattia let go of her harshly.

mattia doesn’t know how but somehow he drove safely to sara’s house. the whole way there he couldn’t stop thinking about her. about how much he needed her right now because he had no clue what to do. his best friends are mad at him and are willing to end their friendship if he doesn’t get things together and some girl tried hitting on him. not only that, he touched her which made him feel disgusted with himself.

the kids were in bed, the blanket fort was cleaned up and put away for the next time they built it again, sara was cleaning her dinning room table which had empty boxes of pizza and empty cups that once held juice for her kids during dinner.

she heard a knock at her door which scared her since it was now passed midnight and no one in their right mind would be out this late. she walked towards her front door and checked the peephole to see a drunk mattia at her doorstep. she did a double take and checked again because she thought she was going crazy. once she realized that she wasn’t going crazy and that he was actually waiting for her to open the door she mentally prepared herself for anything that could happen.

she opened the door slowly, he looked up at her and his vision blurred with the tears that were dwelling in his eyes the moment he saw her.

“mattia, what are you doing here?” she asked softly. he didn’t answer her, he simply walked into the house and plopped down on her couch. usually, sara would’ve snapped at him for coming into her house and acting like he owned the place but no, she didn’t snap. instead, she went to sit next to him and observed his drunk state.

“i thought you weren’t drinking anymore.” she said quietly. he took a sip of his beer before speaking to her.

“i wasn’t until i needed something to take the pain away.” he answered but before she could respond he spoke again. “i promise this will be the only time i drink again. i’ve just been having a hard time getting through this.” he gestured is hands between them.

“why’d you come then?” she asked.

“because i needed to see you.” he answered bluntly. “i needed to see you so i could at least feel the tiniest amount of comfort.” his voice cracked slightly. her jaw dropped and she didn’t know what to say. she wasn’t expecting him to say that as all, how was she supposed to respond?

they sat in silence for a moment before drunk mattia spoke again.

“i’m drunk, remember when you needed me?” he turns to face her but she was already staring at him with tears in her eyes. he hated seeing her cry, it hurt him a lot to see her like this.

“don’t cry, baby. you’re too beautiful to be crying.” he leans over and wipes her tears away with his thumb. “too beautiful.” he repeats as he wipes her tears.

“i’m sorry for doing this to us. i promise i’ll fix it.” he adds and looks into her eyes. “we’re gonna get through this.” he moves a strand of her hair behind her ear gently. he looks at her like she’s his entire world and she is. always has been and always will be.

he pulled her into him and held her as she cried into his chest. they didn’t talk at all once she stopped crying. they fell asleep together on the couch, mattia holding her close as if she was going to slip away from him. holding her close as if he was protecting her from the monsters of the world.

for the first time in months, they slept with ease. plus, sara didn’t have a nightmare.

and when she woke up in the morning, he was gone.