#THEN there was the motherfucker who was buying… i can’t remember what but his total was £5.35

[fingertipsmp3]

Man, today was absolutely mental. I don’t think I’ve ever come so close to losing it with a customer

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA: 

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn. 

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

??

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Demon Bros Play DND!

Who’s ready for some Stupid Headcanons?

So, the Satanic Panic of the 1980s claimed that the tabletop RPG known as Dungeons and Dragons had the power to turn your children into satanists and devil worshippers. So of course, the brothers have totally played DND after hearing about all the human world nonsense.

Lucifer the Back-up Back-up DM

He’s too busy to play this game dammit, stop inviting him! What do you mean both Satan and Simeon can’t DM the one-shot? Ugh... fine.

Despite all his UUUUUUUUGGGGHHH, Lucifer is a damn good storyteller, prepare to be immersed as hell.

Also, sorry guys, he’s a rule whore. If something’s against the rules, YOU AREN’T DOING IT.

He’s also a complete sadist who will randomly get everyone to roll perception checks for NO REASON.

Lucifer has definitely stood up and slammed his hands on the table while giving a description for extra effect, Mammon screamed and nearly fell out of his seat which REALLY ruined the mood.

“Everyone, we’re rescheduling, I’m too busy.”

He’s been a player a few times, and he’s NOT good at it. All his characters end up being really generic and boring. He’s better at being the world and everything in it, not the dummy wandering around it.

Human/fighter lookin’ motherfucker

In conclusion, he’s a good DM, but he’s probably too busy to play.

Over-Powered Self Insert (Mammon)

This game is for nerds! He’s not playin’, Levi!

Fine, his character is great and amazin’ and is also him. MC! What do these numbers mean-

Mammon’s the type of player to make his character a self insert and not take it too seriously, then get really REALLY attached as the campaign progresses.

He’s the type not to make a backstory for his character either, so go wild DM MCs!

He also both purposefully and accidentally metagames a whole bunch. Like dude, YOU know this, YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT.

Shit he forgot his dice, can he borrow some?

“Okay MC, that’s five points of piercing damage.” “I RUN OVER AND HEAL THEM! I’LL SAVE YA MC!”

Mammon goes out of his way to save MC’s character long before it would make sense in-character to do so.

“Well, as your first man it’s my duty to save your character! You’ll probably be a blubberin’ mess if I didn’t...”

He’s not the best role player, but he’s also not the worst at it either. He tends to break character when things get too serious and he doesn’t know what to do.

Notes who? He came in here with one sheet of printer paper and it’s for doodling only.

He and Asmodeus start the tavern brawls. No question about that.

Theft is very common, he’s stealing from everyone, including but not limited to: the party, the royal guards, the dead enemies, the giant fuck-you dragon that Satan dropped in there to deter Mammon from stealing...

“I’m gonna steal that crown from the dragon.” “Roll stealth.” “Nat 20 BITCHES.” “Fuck you.”

If his character dies, may the Demon King have mercy on his greedy little soul because he’s going to mope about it for a damn long time.

Over-Powered Self Insert Again (Leviathan)

His character totally isn’t a self insert, shut up! He just looks and acts like an idealized version of himself!

He’s the one with twenty pages of character info and backstory AND the amazing commissioned art.

Levi has about 40 sets of expensive blue dice that he claims gives him the best rolls but an average session with him usually leads to roughly 10 crit fails.

While his luck with dice isn’t that good, he’s the player who will get as much out of their turn as possible, AKA break out the calculators and notes we’re doing some math.

His turn goes on for at least ten minutes because of all the shit he’s doing. When you finally think it’s over he goes “I still have my movement!”

Takes notes like a madman, every bit of lore and character info is being written down, meaning it’s a headache for everyone involved if there’s a continuity error because Levi WILL point it out.

“So you all head to the east, the great Valley of-” “Hang on, valley? In the second session you said there was a mountainous area to the east.” “Levi, shut up.”

Levi is the self appointed “guys come on let’s get back on track!” player, and whoever’s DMing is grateful to have him.

Levi is kind of the opposite of Mammon in terms of character seriousness, at first he’s taking everything super seriously and then as the campaign goes on he slowly loosens up and has some fun.

Out of curiosity one day he searches up a magical girl DND class and he’s ALL OVER IT. PLEASE LET HIM BE A MAGICAL GIRL NEXT CAMPAIGN-

Damn good at roleplaying, he’s carrying the entire in-character discussion until everyone else gets into it.

The Done With Your Bullshit DM (Satan)

So, this is the game that’s supposedly summoning him all the time despite the fact that he hadn’t been up to the human world since the 50s... what the fuck is everyone on up there?

It was the 80s, probably a lot of drugs.

When Satan DMs, you can only break the rules if it enhances the story... or if it fucks with Lucifer’s really boring character.

He will fudge dice rolls every once and a while, he also gets very attached to the characters everyone has made so he doesn’t want to perma-kill any of them unless they roll a DND quadruple natural 1 sin or something.

As attached as he gets, he isn’t above completely raging, killing everyone’s characters, and ending the session if everyone’s being annoying.

Don’t worry, your characters will be safe and sound next session once everything calms down... just don’t mention how Satan burned your character sheet right in front of you. It’s your fault if you didn’t make a second copy of your character sheet!

He’s pretty decent when it comes to improv when a player stumbles into something he didn’t plan out, but that’s not going to stop him from getting a little annoyed.

Though, if you somehow manage to get to the big bad too soon... yeah sorry, he’s got a way more dramatic fight scene planned, your player’s getting conveniently blasted out of there.

As a player, Satan is pretty decent at the game overall, but he tends to be a little aggressive if there’s an overarching mystery to be solved.

He needs to understand what’s going on! He doesn’t care if it upends the plot or it’s too early to find out! He needs to know!

His character is actually distinct and different from himself, Satan thinks it’s more interesting that way. All the books he’s read have made him a pretty awesome role player!

Satan’s notebook both as a DM and a player is filled to the brim, no detail is too insignificant to be put on the page.

Satan doesn’t fear dungeon puzzles... dungeon puzzles fear Satan.

“Are you all stupid?! This puzzle is so easy a four year old could solve it!”

I ROLL TO SEDUCE- (Asmodeus)

At first he didn’t want to play, he doesn’t play these kinds of games, sweetie. He’s too pretty.

When he’s finally convinced he puts a decent amount of effort into his character, but leaves the backstory pretty open.

Asmo would probably be the bard... right? No. He’s the warlock with the magic sugar daddy patron, and the warlock patron is spoken to as such.

“Hey baby... how’ve you been? Have I been good~?” “...”

Huh! Who woulda thought that all the bedroom roleplaying would transfer so well to DND!

Simeon is the only DM that doesn’t immediately shut this down, so Asmo will be extra inclined to play if Mr. Nice Shoulders is DMing.

When he gets really into it he buys a bunch of sparkly and very pretty dice, they bring him good luck in every roll!

Asmo has a fictional harem, no question about it. It gets to the point where Satan, Lucifer, and Simeon stop describing NPCs as attractive.

He’s rolling to seduce either way, he’s turned many an antagonist into a lover. To be fair, Asmo’s horniness has gotten everyone out of a lot of jail cells... so they can’t complain.

His notes consist of really random comments about the plot and the other players. It’s also COATED with doodles.

‘Wow, this character is such an asshole, I hope Belphie kills them.’ ‘Shit.’ ‘MC looks so cute when they play their character!!!!!!!! :D’

Poor bab forgets the rules a lot... it’s just too much to remember, okay?! How was he supposed to know that he ran out of spell slots an hour ago?!

Please help him, MC...

*Dice Cronch* (Beel)

Homeboy has been given edible dice, no question. He has also eaten the non-edible dice...

Beel goes to Satan for help with making his character, and he ends up really loving the character! :D

Problem is, he’s not that good at roleplaying... D:

“Can my character eat that person?” “Beel, no- you know what? Let me check what you’d need to roll to do that.”

I’ll save you MC part 2 electric boogaloo, but when it comes to Beel, the entire party is getting protected, no matter how little it makes sense in-character.

While Beel does take notes, a lot of them don’t end up being very important for later events. For example, he’ll jot down stuff about the layout in one room, but it turns out he didn’t take notes for the room that was actually going to be used for a boss fight.

He’s always nice to the NPCs, shame Belphie doesn’t show them the same courtesy.

Murder Hobo (Belphie)

Chaotic evil.

“Belphie, your character’s alignment is neutral good, remember?” “Fuck that, this guy’s annoying me.”

If Belphie doesn’t like an NPC, it’s up to the rest of the party to stop him from derailing the campaign and killing them.

He has space themed dice because cow-man likes space and thought they were pretty.

Notes? NOTES? You think Belphegor, the Avatar of SLOTH, takes notes? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

He’s drooling all over the notebook... ew. Someone wake him up and tell him it’s his turn.

He puts about 35% effort forth to make a halfway decent character, and approximately 4% effort to actually roleplay.

Belphie sleeps through important plot details so he’s almost always really confused. He’ll turn to MC and ask them to explain what he missed before not learning his lesson and going back to sleep.

Wake him up for the dungeon puzzles though, he and Satan love those.

“Okay, we can’t see what’s in the room because none of the conscious party members have dark vision?” “Nope, what do you do?” “...I shove Mammon inside and shut the door.” “WHAT?!”

Bonus! The Best DM (Simeon)

Our favourite angel has homebrewed this entire campaign and boy fricken howdy are these players going to enjoy it.

Simeon fudges the dice rolls to avoid anything too irreversibly bad happening, buuuuuuut he’s still a total asshole who does the random perception rolls to keep everyone on their toes.

Everyone gets a character arc god dammit, even if they don’t have a backstory, one will be provided!

He’s got a map, he’s got miniatures, he’s got dice and backup dice for the backup dice, he’s got DM notes for days!

Simeon could be a voice actor with the amount of character voices he can do, no one ever gets confused with who’s talking.

Did someone just uncover a massive bit of plot that was meant to be found out later? Good job! No harm done! Simeon’s DM improv is second to none, and the plot will adjust accordingly!

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

I hate love, but...

Pietro Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: When you and Pietro met, it was right from the get go. However, love has done you wrong before and you have a hard time accepting that Pietro isn’t going to drop you and he’s more than willing to prove you that he’s staying.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Author’s note: I wrote this in a few hours. I didn’t beta read, I don’t have beta readers to do it for me. Have fun.

Life moves fast with Pietro. He had kissed you when you said yes to a date because he got excited. He ended up in your bed after said date and didn’t leave for about a week. When he finally left, he asked you to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t intended. Pietro was just easily excitable and in touch with his feelings. He knew from the start that you were special but you aren’t as excitable as him. You’ve had your run-ins with love up to the point that it isn’t in the stars for you to end up with a partner. When you said yes to being Pietro’s girlfriend, you were already thinking of a way out that would leave you with the least amount of pain but nothing worked. You tried ghosting him but he’d just be at your door the second he thought you were taking too long to respond. You tried being rude but he chalked it up to you having a bad day and took care of you. You tried to flirt with coworkers to make sure he’d leave before you fell for him but he just swooped you away and asked if you wanted his attention that bad. No, nothing worked and now you’re over the edge. You’re falling and you don’t have a parachute but for the first time in forever, you are not scared of the landing. You’re not even sure if there will be a landing.

Two months in and Pietro spends more time at your place than he does at his room in the compound. When he’s done with work, he’s right at your doorstep. You feel like you’re happier. You know for a fact that you’re smiling more because your cheeks hurt almost every night when you go to sleep. Your hands are never cold because he’s always holding them and your bed is never empty, except for the times you fall asleep on the couch together. ‘Prinţesă?’ Pietro cranes his neck so he can meet your eyes as you sit in your reading chair. For the past hour, he tried to nap while you read. He never accomplishes his mission to nap unless you lay with him but he tries nonetheless. Most times, his napless rest ends up in him overthinking. He often overthinks prior decisions and actions. So, more often than not, Pietro’s napless naps end up in discussions about life or assuring him that he did well in the past. You are prepared to talk to him as you always are. You close your book and lay it on the armrest of your chair. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Hypothetically speaking, would you want to meet my sister if I asked you to?’ ‘If I said yes, would you actually let me meet her?’ A smile appears on his face as he lays back down. ‘She’s already on her way.’ He peeks at you, watching how your face turned from a cocky smile to fear. To be fair, your apartment is a mess and you want to make a good impression. ‘Don’t worry, prinţesă, she’ll love you,’ he assures you, ‘besides, she’s not staying. She’s just bringing over some clothes I left at the tower.’ You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and grin. ‘Clothes hm? I can’t remember asking you to move in,’ you tease him. He motions for you to come over to him. As you get up from your chair, he grabs your hand and yanks you on top of him. You squeal when he does and gently hit his chest while you laugh it off. ‘You didn’t have to ask,’ he tells you, ‘I could tell you wanted me to stay.’ ‘You’re such an asshole,’ you smile and press your lips against his. His arms wrap around your body, holding you steady against him. Your hands move up into his hair. For some reason, they always end up there. His hair is just so soft and fluffy. But the blissful moment is short-lived. The ringing of the doorbell puts a quick end to the whole ordeal as you and Pietro exchange looks. Do you do it or me? ‘I can’t open the door if you’re on top of me,’ he tells you. ‘Oh, so you are going to open the door when I get off,’ you ask as you push yourself up. ‘That wouldn’t be logical because you would already be up,’ he explains to you. ‘Just say you’re lazy.’ ‘I’m lazy.’ You shake your head and get off the couch. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’ ‘You better,’ you warn him as you head over to the door and then it hits you. He wants you to open the door for his sister. How would she know who you were if he didn’t show her or tell her about you? ‘Oh you sly motherfucker,’ you mumble under your breath. Suddenly, you feel his hot breath on your neck. ‘Say that again and I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.’ ‘Your sister is at the door,’ you tell him, ‘you better behave.’ He shrugs and walks back to the couch. ‘She knows how I am. I have nothing to worry about.’ You watch him belly flop onto the couch and finally open the door. There stands a woman who looks nothing like Pietro. She’s shorter, a redhead, and just looks like a total badass. Now you’re kinda intimidated. ‘Hi, I’m so sorry for taking so long,’ you say with a smile. ‘That’s alright. You must be Y/n, right?’ You nod and shake her hand. ‘I’m Wanda. I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Pietro jumps up from the couch. ‘Don’t tell her that,’ he yells at Wanda. ‘Shut up Sonic,’ she snaps back and throws the duffel bag she carried towards him. He catches it with ease but pretends to be hurt by letting out a low grunt and falling back onto the couch. She turns back to you. ‘Can I come in?’ ‘Of course.’ You step aside and watch as Pietro’s face changes. He looks slightly terrified of his sister as she steps inside. ‘What? You’ve been gone for two whole months and I don’t know the girl you’re living with. If you thought I was just going to drop off your clothes and leave, you’re insane,’ she tells him and sits down on your reading chair. ‘Wanda, would you like tea or coffee?’ ‘No, thanks. I’ll be out of your hair soon. I just want to have a small heart-to-heart talk with my brother if you don’t mind.’ ‘Oh, of course.’

A month slowly crept by and Pietro never told you what they discussed in that heart-to-heart talk. All you knew was that Pietro was sulking for a while after Wanda left. You decided to give him space and try not to pry, thinking it was him finally pulling away from you and leaving you to crash from your fall for him. Maybe Wanda made him see you’re not a good candidate to be a girlfriend for a man like him. And yet, it didn’t feel right. ‘Pietro, can we talk?’ You watch the fear flicker behind his eyes as you sit down on the couch next to him. He turns his body so that you are facing each other and nods. You take a deep breath but before you can speak he asks: ‘Are you breaking up with me?’ ‘Wha-what?’ ‘You’ve been so distant and I thought-’ ‘Wait, no, I thought you were going to break up with me.’ He frowns. ‘Why would I do that? You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.’ ‘Then why have you been so quiet?’ He doesn’t have a quick answer ready and though his words made your heart swell just a second ago, the silence is chipping away at it. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admits to you, ‘I guess I’ve been thinking more. About where I want this to go.’ ‘Did you figure it out yet?’ He shakes his head. ‘I do know that I want you to meet my family,’ he tells you, ‘the Avengers.’

You never expected you could be this nervous on an elevator. Not because you’re nervous to meet the Avengers. No, because Pietro keeps fiddling and telling you things he’s said a million times by now. ‘Tony has probably already done a background check on you so he’ll have some questions. You’re a woman so you don’t have to worry about intimidation from Captain America but I would worry about Natasha and Clint. They have taken Wanda and me in like they’re our parents. And-’ You press your lips against his and smile. ‘I know. I’ll be fine,’ you promise him and lace your fingers through his, ‘we’ll be fine.’ He smiles and nods confidently. The elevator door opens and you see a few people scattered around a fancy-looking room that has a bag, big cozy couches, a pool table, multiple other places to sit, and floor-to-ceiling windows. And the ceilings are pretty damn high. ‘Wow.’ ‘Ah, thanks, kid.’ You look in front of you to see Tony Stark approaching you. You show him a friendly smile and nod. ‘I’m Tony.’ You shake his hand. ‘Y/n Y/l/n but I’m certain you already knew that.’ ‘I did,’ he admits, ‘and Pietro probably already told you about me.’ You nod. ‘Lucky for you, I don’t have any questions for you. You seem to have a pretty cut and dry life.’ You stifle a laugh and nod. ‘Well, let’s meet the others.’ He offers you his arm but you decline and take Pietro’s arm instead. He nods at the gesture and shows you to the couches. ‘Everyone, this is Y/n Y/l/n, Pietro’s girlfriend,’ Tony announces to the group, ‘that’s Thor, Steve, Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Bruce, and Clint. You already know Wanda, right?’ You nod. After the talk you and Pietro had, Wanda came over again and stayed the night to talk you up to speed with some of the characters living at the compound. Just to prepare you a little. It had just been one day but she was so welcoming. ‘Nice to meet you,’ you say with a timid smile. Pietro shows you to a place to sit. You’re lodged between Wanda and Pietro. ‘So how’d you two meet,’ Natasha asks. ‘Oh, we bumped into each other in the park,’ you tell her, ‘he made me drop my coffee so he told me he’d buy me a new one to make up for it and at the end of the encounter I had his number and he had asked me on a date.’ You leave out the part of the kiss, just in case, Pietro feels a bit strange about it. It was a strange encounter. ‘Ain’t that adorable,’ Natasha grins, ‘first kiss?’ You look at Pietro who shrugs. ‘Does that mean he can’t remember or you don’t want to tell,’ Clint asks you. Wanda chuckles. She knows. She must know. Pietro probably told her. After all, she was the only one who knew about you all this time. ‘Well, I...’ Pietro looks at you again and then at the group. ‘I asked her out and I got a bit excited when she said yes-’ ‘You kissed her right after you asked her out?!’ You have never seen Pietro turn this red. Not even after that first kiss when he realized what he had done. You feel like you have to step in. ‘Just to be clear, I didn’t mind.’ Your eyes meet Pietro’s once again. He smiles back at you and a thought pops into his head. A thought he couldn’t prepare for and one that didn’t leave his mind the whole night. “This is it. This is who I’m meant to be with.”

Your head rests on Pietro’s chest, one arm and one leg thrown over his body, while he traces meaningless patterns on your arm. You’ve had a long day meeting the Avengers and answering all kinds of strange questions. You were glad you had Pietro by your side but as of now, you’re both tired yet unable to sleep. Pietro stares at the ceiling, seemingly deeply lost in thought while you admire his face. From the slight stubble on his chin to the moles and freckles on his skin. You try to memorize all of them. That is until you see him frown. ‘What’s on your mind?’ You ask but you are terrified of the reply. ‘Us.’ ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ He shakes his head and you feel your heart drop but you don’t move away. He has given you no reason to. ‘No, I just want to tell you something.’ You roll onto your stomach and rest your head on your hands, looking up at him as he moves back against the headboard a little so he can look at you while he’s talking. Something in the pit of your stomach is telling you that this is the make-or-break moment in your relationship. He either tells you he loves you now or breaks it off but he’s dragging the silence. He watches your eyes as they stare up at him filled with hope in the dim light of your shared bedroom. Soft moonlight falls through the sheer curtains of your bedroom. He always thought that was adorable, that you didn’t want thick curtains because you enjoyed waking up to sunlight. It’s something he didn’t think he’d enjoy but he does. In fact, almost everything you enjoy, he enjoys. Over just a few months, he learned to take things slow. He learned that he didn’t have to be awake every second of every day, that he didn’t always have to do things fast. You would read to him and he enjoyed it. He was able to really take in the words you read to him instead of rushing through the book like he usually does. Cooking with you is a domestic dream come through. It is never sexual in the kitchen, you take cooking too seriously for that, but the dinner table is a whole different story. And that’s another thing he learned to take slow. Sex. Making love. He never imagined sex and making love would be such different things from each other and with you, he learned that he had never made love before. When he would lay you down on your bed, he would take his time taking in every spot, every crevis, every mark on your body. He takes his sweet time with you and he loves every moment of it. In fact, ‘I love you,’ he states proudly, ‘and I don’t need another few years to figure out that I want a future with you. I want to wake up next to you every day for the rest of my life. I want to start a family with you and grow old together… You’re it for me.’ ‘Wow.’ You smile meekly, not quite sure how to respond. This is not at all what you thought he was going to say. ‘I didn’t know you thought about us like that.’ ‘How do you think about us?’ You take a second to think of your response and you watch him getting nervous like you had gotten before he spoke. ‘You know, I used to hate love before I met you,’ you tell him, ‘I had been broken so many times that I thought I would never find someone for me but then you ran into me and there was this spark. I had never felt that before and I was scared it was just me but you proved me time and time again that you felt it too. And I still fear that you might wake up one day and realize that I am not what you thought I was.’ He gently grabs your chin and lowers his face to brush his lips against yours. ‘That will never happen.’ You pull away, leaving him confused and a little scared. ‘I wasn’t done.’ A smile appears on your face. ‘I hate love, but I’ll make an exception for you.’ A bright smile appears on his face as he leans down to press a seething kiss to your lips. ‘I love you.’

Life moves fast with Pietro but you don’t mind.

[ssavanessa22]

Bad blood

Warnings: racism, hate crime, cannon type violence, kinda but not really smutty so like 16+ as always if I missed someone pls tell me !

A/n the girls of Wattpad really liked this one so I hope you all enjoy as well!

"Y/N you and Reid are going to lead this interview even though you are together make a great team and I think you can crake him are you guys okay with that?"

Spencer and I looked and each other and smiled in unison we replied.

"Yes we are more than okay with that"

Spencer and I have been together for 2 years 324days and 6 hours well that's what he said to me when I woke up next him laying of his bare chest, even though we basically spend every day together we still needed uno special time together and oh was it special. Before we told hotch about our relationship we were able to be in the field together until one time I thought Spence died and then I started crying and it was a whole big thing but now are months not working together we got to do what we both love and with each other.

Before we walked into the interrogation room together Spence turned to me and said.

"Are you sure your okay to do this, you don't have to if you don't want to this case is close to you even if he didn't hurt your family"

This unsub was committing hate crime murders for the last nine months pretending to go on dates with balck women then brutally murder them, Garcia found his manifesto online called "the eradication of all unpure women" it took Kevin who was with her at the time to calm her down as she had to read it out loud I felt bad for her but everyone else felt bad for me. Was looking at me in that moment I wished more than ever to be where Tara was right now, interviewing a child rapist.

I replied to Reid whilst plastering on a fake smile,

"Spencer I'm gonna be fine if anything these women looking like me being like me makes me wanna catch this motherfucker even more"

He smiled and gently kissed me before we both walked in.

"Tyler Walker do you know hey your here"

He ignored my question then Spencer asked the same one only then did he reply.

"Tyler if I'm going to be in here you need to speak to both of us" I sternly replied

"Well if your gonna bring you boyfriend in here since you clearly can't do this on you own them I'm gonna talk to the man here if you'd don't mind"

Spencer interjected saying

"Tyler we found the hearts of all the women murdered in you home why were they in there?"

I don't know I didn't touch them"

He didn't ask if you touched them we asked what you did to those girls" I sternly said.

"You know what If you want to know what I hypothetically would have done to those women I tell you, but only little miss chocolate in the room and only her."

Before Reid could protest I said "yeah sure let's talk"

Spencer's POV

As I walked to the door I gave y/n a reassuring smile she turned and gave me one back but her face was filled with anger and fear, she would never tell me this but she was scared. We didn't shy away from the topic of race within our relationship I read of lot of books and educated myself before I even started dating her I would never understand but I will always try my hardest to be there. And sometimes she just wanted to come home and cry let her emotions out about what it was like being black in American and that was okay as well because I love her.

"How do you think she's gonna do in there?" JJ asked reluctantly

"If I'm being honest I don't know"

Y/N's POV

I sat down trying to make myself look bigger and take up more space within the room than I actually did to encourage my self but in my head I was fucking shitting it.

"Okay we are alone now tell me"

"Just remember sweetheart this is all hypothetical I never did anything if the thing I am about it say" Tyler replied in a menacing tone

"Yes I know get on with it then"

The next 15 minutes felt like a blur, 15 minutes 900 seconds that's how long I heard Tyler speak about all the torcher he wanted to our women like me through half way he started to refer to the women with my name making me imagine him doing these Haines and despicable things to me. I think what was the worst part was that he was smiling whilst he describe these disgusting thing to me he smiled I felt violated and felt used and felt like he had infested my personal space chipping away at the emotional armour I developed whilst having this job.

Once he finished I was on the brink tears but I never going to show him that I left the room being met only by Spencer's face he was seething but I didn't care I just wanted him to hold me to tell me everything was going to be okay.

"Y/N it's okay your okay your other now" he said whilst soothing me.

"I just don't think I can get back in there-"

As I said that Derek stormed in took one look at me and brought me to his arms even though it wasn't Spencer it just felt right in the time to hug him he would understand the most out of the team what I was going through.

"Y/N I know you said you don't want to go back in there but he got him his prints were all over the bodies we found and he had the hearts of the victims he's going to go away for a long time but now you can tell him that take back your power Y/N"

"Ok I'll do it"

"Y/N are you sure you wanna do it this you don't have to?" Spencer said whilst searching my eyes for any fear I had.

I smirked at Spencer whilst he looked at me in confusion I replied.

"Nope I'm okay and I know just what I'm gonna talk about"

By this point the whole team was in the room

"Y/N are you okay love I heard what happened"

"I'm okay Emily but right now you get to watch me drag a white supremacist to filth."

I barged into the interrogation room not letting Tyler speak.

"Okay listen Up bird brain your already done for we found your prints all over the body and that were at your house so now this is just a formality"

"So if you think you've caught me why I am not in a jail cell right now? Hmm"

"You were so nice to me and described the rape, torture, murder and the disfigurement that you would do to me so now I'm just going to repay the favour"

"You know you were right about him being my boyfriend you know"

"so the lanky white one is you boyfriend, I've always said that pure breads shouldn't mix with you people"

"Tyler your going to prison for a very long time you racist rhetoric means nothing to me,but since you I have been so kind to me I am going to spend the next 15 no 20 minutes going in full detail about the amazing sex I had with my white boyfriend last night if we can fit it all in 20 minutes. We will just have to see won't we?"

Spencer's POV

My jaw had dropped to the floor when y/n said that I mean yes it would be hot for her to describe every single we did last night both of us have an eidetic memory so I know she remembers it all but in front of a racist unsub I had I was weirdly impressed and terrified at the same time.

"You don't think she's actually gonna do that?" I asked to the team in complete and utter shock

"Reid when was the last time y/n has ever lied to us?"

"Once JJ but she couldn't even go the whole day telling the lie she ended buying hotch a dozen of his favourite donuts even though she only ate one"

Derek and Emily started chuckling and said.

"That means she's not lying"

The unsub was seething with anger when y/n carried on speacking

" Tyler I didn't a little digging on you and I found out form you pervious girlfriends that apparently you can't put it up in one of you girlfriends exact words she says no matter how hard I tried he could never get hard"

"You don't know anything you slut"

"oop Tyler your using big words especially with someone who only has the education of a 5th grader"

But you know what Tyler lucky for you I have and eidetic memory I don't think you know what that is so I'm just gonna tell you... that means I remember everything so we're gonna have some fun together hmm"

20 minutes, 1200 seconds that's how long y/n spoke in detail about about sexual escapades from last night throughout these 20 minutes Derek started recording so he could send this back to Garcia. Light  chuckles and laughs were heard here and there then oos and ahhs, then total shock was the look on everyone's face and a gasp coming from Garcia who Derek had patched in a phone call so she could listen too when y/n got to the last bit.  I guess they just assumed because I'm the youngest apart from y/n and .... well I'm me that we would have a boring sex life but I guess we surprised them.

Y/N's POV

After I finished I wasted no time in leaving but before I did I said one more thing.

Tyler you are going to prison for a very long time you probably get life or even the death penalty so I want you to remember what I spoke to you about every single time you try your hardest to get it up every. Single. Time. I hope you know after your manny years in prison never getting to see the outside again and you die I will be sleeping soundly knowing you are burning in hell"

I walked out and the whole team was silent in utter shock of what I said then i realised I probably shouldn't have said any of that too an unsub.

" omg hotch I am so sorry that was completely inappropriate and unacceptable what I did in there and wasn't right at all I-"

"I'm sorry y/n I don't know what your talking about what did you say in there"

"What I just spent the last 20 minutes-"

Seriously y/n what are you talking about you went I told him what he was being charge for and you walked back out hun what are you talking about?"

Im what I'm so confused what?"

Then Spencer finally said

"Babe I know I can be dumb sometimes but please read the room"

I looked around still so confused until I finally realised.

Ohhhhh ok yeah yeah I get it now"

Okay but when are you are pretty boy releasing the sex tape cause I would like to pre order"

The whole teams was laughing including me and Spencer I replied simply with

"in your dreams Morgan in your dreams" 

[staylavendertea]

music, ya know

this is a complete impulse of lying in bed middle of the night thoughts that i don’t even know if anyone’s gonna see that have been stemmed off the experiences of the past couple days, topic of 1:41 am mind boggle:

music and it’s aesthetic and importance in literal every sense cause it’s just that important to me

first experience of realizing this, i’ve always loved film scores and listening to music and the orchestral pieces from movies and shows, but it really seemed to hit me recently, like the fact that this week’s new LOKI episode, no spoilers, has the most badass score and a badass scene with such a perfect mix and musical atmosphere. i literally had one of my best friends over, who has a very small interest in comics, cinema, marvel in general, especially a show about a norse comic god that they know nothing about, and whilst they sat there for my own regard, watching the show like a normal human being would, i sat there clinching their hand, watching in awe as our music is louder than actors talking tv speakers spurted out the most spine tightening world building story and just wandered “jesus that was good” and whilst i will always think about the superior acting, cgi, the amount of different people that just went into those few scenes and like what was physical set and what was computer image and what the hell did i just watch that has my brain running olympic marathon circles right now?

the thought that said brain kept going back to was that fucking score. it was literally tearing apart of every corner of my head and why was it doing that?

second experience, another marvel one, but i digress. black widow (no spoilers i promise), thursday night, movie theater for the first time in i can’t even remember how long now and we set through so many previews just for fucking boss baby to start playing and the reaction of the theater to make me burst out laughing.

however whatever works in that little projection box, gets fixed and the movie is pushed to just a little before it starts, a nice small pepsi ad, the regal rollercoaster intro (if you go to regal movie theaters ya know what i’m talking about), and then i hear it - the marvel studios logo - something so musically engraved into my head that my ass that can’t sing for anything, can harmonize with the sound and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up around movie theater surround sound. but i can’t think of that now, i’m here to watch black widow, a movie on hiatus with the rest of the world for so long now, a character i didn’t know much about it or truly, didn’t have the most connection with in the first place. yet through that one movie, i seemed to build one of those.

ofc though scarlett johansson’s beautiful acting and world building, but it isn’t until the end of the movie that i even realize why. it was the fucking score again. when i think about it, the beginning of the movie felt like all of black widows scenes in the avengers movies for me, kinda just, there. not really emotionally tugging, not bad ofc either, but just, there. in the present, watching something cool in motion. but then it hits, what i can only describe as a theme that somehow tells the entire black widow movie in one singular composition. something so badass, story telling, but also just singularly black widow-esk. i can tell you that i walked out the movie theater rambling about the composition and looking up composers.

third experience, the most recent as it was literally like 20 minutes ago and sprung one train rail of a thought process that immediately tugged me into typing this brain vomit into a tumblr post. i have playlists. for everything. and when i say everything, i fucking mean everything. i’m a writer and a reader, i have playlists mostly for the young avengers, my most utter comfort characters, and their stories i’m writing. i also have playlists/genre/specific song for about every book i read.

when i read red white and royal blue when that came out, i noticed i listened to one of the drunks by panic at the disco the entirety of the ending of the book and the words and music fit together like puzzle pieces, not only did it make the reading experience better, but i was so fucking emerged in my over hyper-imagitive brain that when i finally actually finished the book, i still never left. rewind present day to the beginning of this past june, one last stop comes out, ofc i get it the day it comes out with my anticipation building like wildfire. i start reading that night and i put on my recents on my liked songs playlist (true to true spotify user) and i slowly over the next day as i read and finish the book, windle down to the genre, then the band, to the album, to the exact song that feels like the carbon copy of the words i’m reading. that song was only ones who know by the arctic monkeys. now go back to this past week, anyone who reads the carry on series knows, anyway the wind blows came out this past tuesday. i waited till wednesday to buy the ✨pretty special addition barnes and nobles copy✨ so that the dear friend that indulged me by watching loki that same day could buy it at the same time and make a cute book date or whateva. i started reading that night and something just felt ,,, off. i didn’t know what it was, but i was living off the pure joy that simon and co give me so i ignored the feeling. until i realized why it felt off this morning. i wasn’t listening to any fucking music, literally nothing, not even queen. motherfucking. queen.

i looked for the snowbaz playlist i made when i read carry on for the first time back in 2016/2017 when i was still a freshman in high school just to remember i deleted that literally forever ago. so i made a new one. like an hour and a half ago. very inspired on how i made the playlists for the young avengers and all their stories. letting the music talk.

the fact that all these rambling thoughts have led to this conclusion makes my head hurt, but for me at least in my own experiences. music talks. a two way conversation. a radio broadcast, turning the peg until you match the same frequency thats being put out and you can hear it and understand it. it’s like when you see comedians on stages or actors on panels, they talk, you have reactions, you talk back, and so forth the loop continues until the last voice, last note, rings out. music and songs and orchestral pieces and bands and composers and lyric writers are telling you the stories in reverse. they don’t know their doing it, obviously they meant something entirely different in their creations, but it’s like literature and any work of words and storytelling. interpretation. to me, the notes, pianos, violins, guitars, drums, singers, cellos, and anything that can make sound you can think of, is telling you something. whispering in your ear as you watch or read. facial features, emotions the characters dont say out loud, outfits, they way their standing or talking or moving or interacting with anything and everything.

when i just made that carry on playlist, i played it, decided to try read some good almost 2 am fan fic as you do, my hanging on by a thread sleep brain telling me words aren’t recognizable right now, and tighten myself into a blanket to see if i can sleep at all. the playlist still plays and my never shuts up head thinks it’s own daydreams, stresses out about anything it can, that is until the song plays. the one that just speaks the carry on trilogy language. the one that i found whilst i was reading wayward son and then would play whenever i re read carry on. the one that started this whole way too long ass post in the first place. cant be alone tonight by atlas. i heard just the first sound and i saw them, as if i were in the same room, like i never even put the book down in the first damn place because i’m actually terrified of finishing it. i could see simon in his oversized hoodies, baz in an outfit that was way too good just to be sitting inside, agatha looking as pleasantly pretty as ever, penelope poking fun at shepherd, and shepherd poking fun right back; bickering, laughing, saying the dialogues i try to remember so i can write them later, existing.

in a way music doesn’t just talk, but it lives. it lives and breaths. a three way conversation you could say. characters, stories, plot, and settings talk to the music, then the music delivers us listeners the message, so that we can send one back. this literally took me over an hour to write and i should point the important note that i do have synesthesia where colors and sounds and colors and words do the association so this entire thing might be me being entirely biased, but alas, i love sound so much and if there is anyone else that feels the same ways as i do as just a simple good film score and song makes anything ten times better, feel free to talk, i will totally be awkward, but i need some music freaks like myself around so feel free to hit me up, also if you love movies and cinema also feel free to hit me up as i need movie buddies and now it’s 3 am and i will be going to bed - peace out 🛸

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Not Your Type

Steve Harrington x Reader

Read part 2 HERE

Word Count: 6,669

Warnings: Swearing, Smoking, Drinking, Sexual Assault mention

Tag List: @carolimedanvers @moonstruckhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hotstuffhargrove @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @hipsmcgee @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @balladblood @ashescilev 

“You’re not her type, Steve.” 

“You can’t say that till she meets me.”

The two had been arguing for days on the subject, without a clear answer in sight. Robin had promised, after weeks of watching Steve fail at getting girls, first at Scoops Ahoy and now at Family Video, to introduce him to a girl. Not just any girl, a girl like her. Steve had finally admitted that Dustin was right and he needed to go after girls who could make him genuinely happy, not just a girl who fit his popular mindset. He had tried his luck with Robin, and easily accepted the loss due to her own sexuality, and now he was set to try again. And Robin had been hyping up this friend of hers for weeks. She was cool and funny and smart like her and she was straight. That was all he was looking for. Whoever she was, she sounded perfect. 

But Robin was holding out on him.

His turned halfway to look at her, leaning his elbows on the counter to watch her shelf VHS tapes of music videos by the checkout line. She kept her back to him, rolling her eyes at his last comment. He was so pig headed most of the time, it was honestly annoying.

“Robin, you made this big deal about her, you said she was perfect, that I’d want to marry her on sight, and now you’re holding out. You gonna tell me what the deal is or not?” he asked with a brutal sigh. 

Robin didn’t turn around “Look, I might have...overhyped her a bit...like she’s amazing but she might...not be interested.” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, turning to look at him with an embarrassed grimace.

“What?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Look...she likes Billy Idol types. She probably would’ve gotten along with Billy Hargrove if...well, you know.” Robin said, trailing off at the end. Both nodded softly, Robin swallowing as if her throat was dry. Maybe it was, the memory was certainly hard to swallow and even harder to forget.

“Right...so?” 

Robin scoffed “You’re too squeaky clean for her.” 

Steve slapped his hand on the counter, his hair bouncing excitedly with the quick movement “Oh come on! Do you remember me? I’m Steve ‘Hair’ Harrington! I was the coolest guy at Hawkins High.” he puffed up his chest proudly, like a peacock.

“And the most modest.” Robin stood up, dusting off her knees from grim from the carpets sticking to her bare skin. The only perk of working at Family Video was the lax dress code. The store’s air conditioning had broken in June and had turned the place into an oven with its big windows that couldn’t be shaded to hide the marquees and cardboard cutouts in the windows. Keeping the front door open and wearing as little as possible helped. 

“But seriously, Steve, I don’t want you to get your hopes up about her. She might not be interested.” Robin replied, planting her hands on her hips.

“I got it, now when can I meet her?” Steve asked.

Luckily for him, you were already on your way.

You had no idea why Robin had been so insistent on you visiting her at work. She never had been before, she’d made you promise not to visit her at Scoops, which was strange since you only worked a floor above at Claire’s, piercing children’s ears with ugly silver butterflies and flowers, only for them to buy big plastic hoops and balls to shove into the unprepared holes and get them totally infected. It was fun, you got to use a piercing gun. You’d almost gotten fired for trying to pierce your nose with the gun. You were glad that you didn’t, it would’ve totally ruined your nostril, but you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t totally worth it to see the look on your fat manager, Marge’s face. She was such a bitch, you were glad when that damn mall burned down. The one in Carmel was better anyway.

When Robin insisted on you coming to Family Video to meet her for her lunch break, you weren’t insanely apprehensive about it. It wasn’t until her tone changed when she mentioned meeting her coworker and friend that you started getting that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. She was trying to set you up with someone. Again. She always did this when she wanted something. Last time she did it, it was with that awful Keith to try to get him to give her his poster from The Godfather, which he’d nicked from the back storage at The Hawke while it was still open. Whatever she wanted, you weren’t going to be used to get it. 

Still, you showed up. You promised that you would after all, and you were a person of your word. Parking your car in front of the store, you saw the almost empty parking lot and the wide open door signaling the open store. You sighed softly to yourself, grabbing your purse off the seat next to you and stringing it over your shoulder, popping the door and climbing out.

“Robin? You here?” you called as you walked in.” the store was empty and far too quiet for your liking.

“Welcome to Family Video, where we bring movie magic to you! Can I help you with anything today?” Steve asked from the counter, startling you. You practically jumped out of your skin, your hand coming to clutch at your heart as you whipped around to meet the soft expression of Steve Harrington. He looked slightly bemused, clearly trying to not laugh at your over the top reaction. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the desk.

“Is Robin here? Robin Walker.” you asked, looking him over with a calculating eye.

“Yeah, she’s just in the back, wait here.” Steve stepped out from behind the desk, pulling at his stiff, polyester golf shirt. The shirt was so white and blindingly bright that it hurt to look at, but the large black logo for the store broke it up enough to make it easier to watch Steve leave as it was to watch him walk away. 

Steve didn’t even make it all the way to the stockroom before Robin emerged, already changed out of her uniform and was grinning like an idiot. “Hey! You made it just in time!” she said, tossing you her purse and sweater. You caught them easily, relieved to see your friend and get out of there. 

“Steve, this is my friend Y/N. Y/N, you know Steve, right?” Robin said, gesturing between them with her now free hands. 

“What up, Harrington?” you asked boredly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Robin gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her lips into a straight line. This is exactly what she thought would happen. Every time she’d introduced you to someone, no matter how genuine she was being, you turned into a brick fortress, completely impenetrable. Gone was your bubbly, snarky personality and quick wit, replaced by sneers and eye rolls and sarcasm. You weren’t nice or warm or open when you met the boys Robin decided you’d like. You weren’t yourself.

This wasn’t you. Robin knew it, she was certain that deep down you knew it. But Steve didn’t know it. Robin was certain that he had no idea who you were. And that made it worse. He had no background to you other than her own descriptions. And that wasn’t enough. This was not going to end well.

“You ready to grab food?” you asked, drawing Robin out of her mind.

“Huh? Oh yeah definitely. Burger in a Basket cool?” she replied, her eyes darting strangely between the pair of you.

“Sure, I’m not vegetarian this month. Accidently ate a fish stick last weekend while babysitting Todd Carther again. Total shit head but his parents pay me so much money to do it.” you replied, handing Robin’s things back to her. 

“Hasn’t he scared you off yet?” Robin asked, tying her grey sweatshirt around her hips.

“Nope, almost got me by dumping a whole jar of electric blue paint on my head. But the stuff is non-toxic so it didn’t mess up my eyes or skin and it let me know that dying my whole head blue isn’t going to be a good look for me.” you replied with a giggle, flashing a strand of faded blue hair to her. “The stupid paint did dye some of the bleach though, which totally sucks.”

“You babysit Todd Carther?” Steve asked, drawing your attention back to him and indented a hard frown onto your face. Robin caught the look and wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, squeezing them too hard. 

“Oh yeah, Y/N is utterly fearless.” Robin announced with a grin.

“I know his older brother Matt; wicked dude, total party animal. He threw the best parties at the end of the basketball season. Totally rad…” he trailed off with a doofy grin, clearly imagining the fun times he’d had at some shitty house party.

“I know Matt too. He groped Sylvia Newman in the middle of freshman English for a stripe of Fruit Stripe gum. He assaulted her and didn’t even get detention for it.” you replied stonily, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh… bummer.” Steve tried. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “No, I’m serious. I didn’t know about that, that’s really fucked up. I don’t hang out with him anymore, but if I did I’d stop.”Steve said more confidently this time, running a hand through his overstyled hair. 

That...wasn’t the answer you were expecting. It knocked you out of your senses and you took a moment to respond. “Yeah...well I take money from his parents so I mean nobody’s perfect. And that whole family’s fucked up anyway.” Steve smiled slightly and you tried not to notice it. He just looked so proud of himself. It was almost endearing. But not enough to make you want to care.

“So, anyway, Steve? You go on break yet?” Robin asked.

Steve furrowed his brow, looking at Robin as though she’d grown a third head. Robin nodded her head towards you strangely and suddenly Steve blurted “That’s the girl? Really?”

You whipped around to look at Robin, utterly appalled. You had a sinking feeling that the whole reason you’d been invited out today was to be introduced to some guy, but you had no idea it would be so quick and for the guy to be Steve motherfucking Harrington. You couldn’t believe it. I mean he was the dumbest, more generic guy at Hawkins High. You swore he’d won the metal for stupidest questions in your Home Economics class in freshman year. He was just…such a dork! How he’d gotten so popular, you had no idea. Maybe this town was such so void of charm and charisma that even the most empty, callus boy could become a god with a wink and a smile.

“What does he mean that’s the girl?” you asked, your face pulling into a look of sheer anger that could stop a man in his tracks.

“Oh great work, Harrington, now you’ve done it.” Robin sighed, pulling her purse across her chest, smacking his arm roughly.

“Robin, what does he mean? What did you do?” you snapped, forcing her to look at you. Her face pulled into a look that you knew too well. Regret, embarrassment, and just a little bit of fear.

“I might have promised Steve that I’d introduce you to him.” You groaned loudly, your head falling back to look at the white tiled ceiling. Robin pressed on, her face turning into a look of sympathy, her smile made of rubber. “Because you’re so great! He doesn’t have many friends his own age anymore and I just thought-”

“Oh I know what you thought.” You bit out.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Robin turned to Steve, completely ignoring you.

Steve’s face turned sour and surprised and he looked between the two of you and then to the clock above you. “I mean…I kind of have some stuff to finish up here and I should really wait until Keith gets here before I go on my break…don’t want Mr. Mueller mad at me again.” He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging awkwardly.

Robin clicked her tongue “Since when do you care?” Steve simply shrugged again. “Y/N, can you wait for me outside?”

You nodded, turning on your heel and heading out just far enough to be out of sight. You wanted to hear whatever they had to say.

“Dude what the fuck? You wanted this!” Robin whispered violently.

“Yeah but I didn’t want her!” Steve replied. You didn’t see the smack, but you sure heard the sound of skin hitting skin and the embarrassing yelp Steve let out.

“Yeah well, you’re going to come with us and you’re going to be nice. Because I did this for you. And now you have to accept it.” Steve didn’t respond, which must have been a good sign for Robin.

“Remind me to never do anything nice for you ever again…” Robin muttered as their footsteps charged closer to you and you scurried out the open door, choosing to lean against the burning hot glass, crossing your arms over your chest and knocking the sunglasses from the top of your head to your face again.

“You ready to head out?” You asked, standing up straight, smiling at Robin.

“Yeah, just waiting for Harrington to put the sign.” Behind her, Steve was hanging the tiny clock shaped sign on the door, trying to figure out what time it would be when they got back.

“Just put four fifteen, Steve, Keith will be back by then and your shift will be over like immediately anyway. You clocked out, right?” Robin said quickly, turning to you to add “Keith is a menace; he doesn’t like to work with anyone and kicks everyone off the floor whenever he can.” You nodded boredly, you’d heard this when she worked with him at the arcade; she quit whereas he got fired, it was a point of bragging for her.

“Yes, Robin. I did what you said. I don’t like this idea, I need this job more than you do.” He muttered bitterly. You raised an eyebrow curiously. Bitter looked decent on him.

“Oh, will you relax? Let your hair down a bit, dingus.” Robin grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The three of you headed down the street to the cheesy diner Burger in a Basket. The whole place was themed after a fifties diner, complete with neon and pastel colours and fifties nostalgia on the walls. Bikes, hoola hoops, records, pictures of dead icons like Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, movie posters-the whole shebang. You didn’t go there for atmosphere, no, you went for the food. Robin insisted that it was the best burger she’d ever had and you’d be hard pressed to find one better in Hawkins. You didn’t know if Steve had been initiated into the burger ritual yet, but you didn’t really care.

Entering the teal and pink dining room, you nodded to the poor young thing in the giant black beehive wig and roller skates, you and Robin heading towards your normal booth. Steve followed behind, wide eyed and a little bit horror struck. You slid into the booth and grabbed the menus out of the rack at the table, handing them out wordlessly. Robin pushed Steve towards your side of the booth and he begrudgingly slid in, much to your dismay.

“You dragged me out of work…to go to a cheesy themed diner?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Just wait till you try it, Steve, it’ll change your life.” Robin said with a grin, flipping open the menu. You knew that she always ordered something different each time you came. You always ordered the same thing so you didn’t bother to open yours. Steve cautiously followed Robin’s example, flipping around with a wide eyed, innocent expression.

“Alright, welcome to Burger in a Basket, I’m Sylvia, how are you guys doing today?” the voice above you asked. You grinned as you saw Sylvia standing there in the stupid uniform. It was a comfort to know that her life was a little worse than yours. After all, she was such a bitch to you most of the time. That Matt Carther thing gave her plenty of room to get away with being a complete bitch, and it gave you something to use as a tester with guys in town. If they didn’t know who she was or they laughed, then they weren’t worth your time. Sure, you felt bad for her, but she treated you like dog shit for a year before dumping your ass to hang out with Macy Clarke and Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey Sylvia, we’re doing alright.” You said with a slight smirk, resting your head on your palms. Sylvia cringed slightly, but her eyes landed on Steve’s and her whole expression changed.

“Hey, Steve…” she murmured, pulling her lip into her teeth, grinning slightly.

“Hey, Sylvia, how’s it going?” he replied. Of course he’d go for her, you thought to yourself, she’s exactly his type. Just dumb enough to be cute but just pretty enough to hold your attention, with the slightest stink of desperation. You wanted so desperately to roll your eyes, but Robin was watching you with the knowing look, so you maintained your composure.

“I’m good! Can I get you a drink? Or are you ready to order? Do you need a minute?” you wanted to laugh; this was the best service you’d ever gotten at the restaurant. And it was all thanks to Steve.

“I mean…are you guys ready? I think I’ve got it figured out.” Steve said, gesturing to Robin with a nervous expression.

“Yeah, I’ll get the Fourth of July burger with mushrooms and can I get no mustard? Oh, and a diet coke.” Robin said, smiling confidently at Sylvia, who took down the order boredly.

“Sure, and for you, Steve?” she asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

“Um…I need a second more, Y/N can you order?” he muttered, leaning over to you. You nodded, surprised that him being closer to you didn’t upset you. It was almost…nice.

“Yeah sure…I’ll get the double hula burger with extra cheese, no pickles, no ketchup, and a triple thick chocolate shake.” You rattled off quickly, enjoying watching her struggle to get everything down.

“Alright, you ready, Stevie?” Sylvia asked and you noted the distinctive blush forming on his cheeks. Sylvia seemed too proud of her work and you wanted to wipe that look off her face. Pride was a bad look for her.

“Can I just get classic burger with mayo and extra tomato? And a coke?” he asked awkwardly, still clearly very unsure of himself.

Sylvia nodded “Perfect! I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” She said, turning and skating off, waving coyly to Steve as she headed back into the kitchen. You and Robin snickered, Robin rolling her eyes as soon as Sylvia disappeared.

“Oh my god we should have been bringing you since day one, they never give us that much attention!” you cried with a loud laugh.

“Dude, she wants you so bad oh my god!” Robin added, reaching out to slap his shoulder. Steve lowered his head, shaking his head.

“I totally remember her now…she had a thing for me in junior year, covered my locker in paper hearts. I wasn’t supposed to find out but I did. It was very uncool.” He muttered, shaking his head. You remembered that too, how she’d planned it for weeks, forcing you to help cut out pink, purple, and red hearts. You thought the whole thing was so cringy and weird, but she was dead set that he’d be intrigued by the mystery and sweetness of the action. She thought it was so cute. Barbra Holland unintentionally started the rumor that it was her, but you wished it was you to tell the world. Watching her slink home was worth the afternoons in the library with her calling you stupid for not cutting the heart out perfectly.

“She was just trying to put her feelings out there!” Robin replied incredulously.

“No, Rob, she was being weird. She could’ve shoved a note in his locker, send him a candy gram and Valentine, they do that every year for lacrosse team. She did something unnecessary and creepy to get attention. You’re just a hopeless romantic.” You grinned, reaching out to touch the bright red heart drawn in permanent marker on her wrist. You knew she had a thing for Jennifer Buffet, who worked at the now defunct Starcourt movie theatre. She always drew that little heart on everything whenever she had a crush, it was like she was trying to get caught, you didn’t get that; you always wanted to hide your crushes until the other person showed any interest in you. You wouldn’t usually agree or defend Steve Harrington, but he was right for once. You didn’t mind agreeing if he was correct for once.

“I am not!” Robin cried, crossing her arms over her chest.

You leaned in to whisper to her “Tell that to Tammy Turner.” Robin turned bright red and she leaned back into the vinyl seat, looking away from you.

“Oh was it bad?” Steve asked with a wide, doofy grin. You were surprised to know that he knew about Tammy, but you didn’t question it. Asking questions could reveal something that Robin didn’t want known. You were used to being careful with her.

“Ohhhh yeah, it was a rough year with her pine after that muppet.” Watching Robin pine after Tammy Turner was so embarrassing, since the girl was so straight. I mean the Steve thing was one thing, but the girl dated Tommy H for two weeks between his forty-second break-up with Carol. That’s the epitome of straight bullshit: finding Tommy H’ s awful, crass, and downright sexist attitude and sense of humor attractive and desirable. How Robin didn’t see that was beyond you.

“That’s what I said! She sounds like a damn muppet! Like Kermit the frog or something!” Steve cried, smacking the vinyl and turning to look at you fully. When he wasn’t trying so hard, he was actually pretty cute. His eyes blew wide and his smile reached its fullest capacity, straining to not split his face in half.

“I thought more Ms. Piggy, like when she sang with Elton John. She always like pinching up her mouth at the end of her words, she looks like a wrinkly old apple.” You said, giggling slightly. “Don’t go breaking my heart…” you imitated, pursing and squeezing your lips together, making a tiny ‘O’ with your lips. Steve’s eyes grew impossibly wider and he laughed far too loudly, his head tossing back. You turned to Robin, who was blushing crimson, fully turned away from the scene you were making. Sylvia skated over with your food and drinks, smiling far too much. She placed each order in front of you, angling herself so her chest landed in Steve’s face when she handed his order over to him. He didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy laughing.

“What’re you guys talking about?” she asked, tossing your order in front of you.

“That time you made Steve’s locker look like the Valentine’s Day massacre.” You grinned back spitefully.

Sylvia paled significantly and she reached up to adjust her wig, looking away. “That…that wasn’t me…” she replied softly.

“Yeah…yeah it was…” Steve said between breathes, wiping tears away from his eyes. Sylvia opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She turned away quickly, skating out fast. You laughed hard when she ran off, hunching over in your seat.

“That was so mean!” Robin cried, looking between the pair of you with a stern look.

“She…she deserved it! After everything I dealt with from her, I get to have one!” you replied, shrugging softly as you recovered. Steve offered you a high five, which you took happily. You never thought in your life that you’d be laughing with Steve Harrington. Today was a weird day.

“Eat, both of you.” Robin snapped and you complied equally happily. You loved this place-everything was fresh and made to order. Sure, it was greasy and unhealthy, but you deserved a bit of comfort food once and awhile. Steve took his first bite and let out a very loud moan. You giggled, it was so stupid. And a little cute, you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. And maybe a little hot. But you wouldn’t admit that.

“This is so good!” he said, muffled by his mouthful of food.

“It’s even better when you’re high.” You whispered, nudging his arm. Steve nodded in approval, clearly into the idea.

The three of you ate in silence, wolfing down your burgers without much of a hum save for the sounds of ice clinking in glasses and small slurps from straws. Burger in a Basket still had glass bottle of coke, the rumor was that they filled them up with every drink and washed them after, since they didn’t really make glass bottles of soda for retail sale anymore.

With only their fries left, the group returned to each other’s attention. To your surprise, Steve spoke first.

“Can I be like honest here?” he said, turning to face you once again. You nodded shortly, shoving a fry into your mouth. “I have like, no idea who you are. I really don’t.” you raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of how you were supposed to react to that news. You swallowed your mouthful, nodding to yourself.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” You replied “I remember you though.”

“Oh yeah, what for?” Steve leaned back in the booth, putting his arms over the seat. He looked to be ready to take in praise.

“I remember how shit you were on the basketball team. How shit that whole team was.” You replied with a chuckle, watching Steve deflate immediately.

“I was, like, the best player on the team!” he replied indignantly.

“That’s not saying much.” That line made Robin laugh and Steve curl further into himself.

“You really should’ve joined the track and field team. You were much better at that anyway.” You added softly.

“On what planet? I’ve never even done track and field.” Steve cracked bitterly.

“Yes you have, we all had to do it in middle school.” You said. Both Robin and Steve looked at you like you were crazy, so without any remaining shame, you pressed on.

“At the end of the year, every year of middle school, we had the grade-wide track and field meet. We all trained on basic stuff-long jump, cross country, shot put for the older kids, and high jump. Then, each grade would compete and the best of those kids would go onto the main competition. We all got a day off to watch and there were free freezies. It was one of the best days of the year.” You explained.

“Yeah, so what? I never competed.” Steve replied, watching you closely.

“Yes, you did.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You rolled your eyes and continued.

“You were in eighth grade and I was in seventh. You had won the long jump in your grade level because Jude Armstrong broke his ankle and I had won the high jump. So we both competed. I remember three things about that day: one; that I won the high jump against all the older kids and Tina tried to push me into the mud after I got my medal; that you and Tommy snuck off to smoke cigarettes during the high jump. You both pretended that you’d done it before, and maybe you had, but Tommy was coughing so hard even after that it was so obvious that he’d never even touch a cigarette before.  And three, that that was the year we were all forced to run the cross country race. Nobody had wanted to compete in the race, so they forced us to do it to set an example. I didn’t want to run it, I’m not a distance runner, but you were so confident. You didn’t look nervous at all. And when the whistle blew and everyone bolted, you held back. You came in third in the cross country race and second at long jump, against the odds on both. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

Steve nodded. You looked so pretty when you explained the memory, your whole face lit up and your smiled so softly. You looked angelic, it was truly a sight. But the memory itself turned his stomach.

“I remember that…” he muttered “What I remember about that day was my dad telling me that no other place matter except first and that I was absolute shit.”

You felt so bad, bringing it up at all. He looked so sad now, you regretting even commenting on it. “Oh…I’m sorry…” you said softly. Steve shrugged as if it meant nothing, as if he felt nothing. “God, what a dick and you were good too!” you cried.

“Nah, I kind of sucked.” Steve replied, pushing away the compliment with his hands.

“No seriously! We could have used you on the team, Jude Armstrong sucked ass after like freshman year! You showed real aptitude. And you’re built for it, strong legs and a good core. Let guys like Chuck Bronson stomp around the court, you should’ve came and competed with us, you would’ve won something.” You joked, kicking his shoe with your own.

Steve huffed “We got into the county semi-finals last year…”

“Yeah? We won country finals and got fifth in state. Half my team got into state colleges on scholarship based on that alone.” You replied haughtily.

“You gonna get one?” he asked.

“I might, I got a scout watching me. Don’t know if I’m gonna take it.”

“Oh yeah, why not?”

You grinned proudly “I’m hoping to follow in Emma Lancaster’s footsteps.”

“What she do?” Robin rolled her eyes at that comment.

“She got a full ride to NYU for fashion design.”

“You sew?”

You rolled your eyes “I’m the head of the costume department for the drama club.”

“It’s how we met.” Robin added proudly.

“Emma Lancaster founded and headed up the fashion club at Hawkins High and ran the sewing club. She wants to work for designer labels and head up her own one day. I just want to make costumes for plays. I’d work anywhere that paid and go to any school that offered money.” You explained.

“That’s cool, I hope you get it.” Steve said and you noted the slightest hint of sadness in his tone.

“How’s your planning going, Steve, got any ideas yet?” Robin asked, clearly catching onto the tone Steve had in his voice.

“Well…” he looked a little embarrassed as he spoke, but did so anyway “I was thinking about applying to the police academy in Carmel…it’s not a clear shot, but I’d like it more than working for my dad.”

“My uncle works there, I can put in a good word with him if you want.” Robin said cheerily.

“That would be cool. I just don’t know if I’d be any good.” Steve muttered to himself.

“I’d think you’d be pretty good, I mean you’ve got strong morals.” You turned to Robin “Remember when he broke freak Byers camera? He deserved that fucking shit.” Robin nodded in agreement.

“I mean yeah, Steve, you care about people. Like you take care of Dustin like he’s your brother. It takes guts to be genuine and unafraid about hanging out with literal children.” Robin added.

“You hang out with Dustin Henderson?” you asked curiously.

“You know Dustin?” Steve asked, equally confused.

“Yeah, my sister Stacy made fun of him for like a week last year after the snow ball for asking her to dance. I wanted to smack the shit out of her for it, it takes guts to ask somebody out, especially at that age.” You explained, slamming your tall milkshake glass on the table, having just slurped up the last drops of chocolate milk and whipped cream.

“Yeah well he’s got a girlfriend now named Suzie.” Robin said. Steve’s attention had turned to the window and you heard a small gasp.

“Shit, Keith’s here, I gotta run.” He pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the table before sliding out of the booth.

“Don’t get in shit, dingus!” Robin called after him.

He spun around quickly, jogging backwards “If you get me fired, I’ll kill you.” He looked you over slowly, a lopsided grin pulling at the corner of his mouth “I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.” You smiled. Steve nodded happily and his back slammed into the poor dish boy, stumbling slightly before scampering off.

As soon as he was gone, Robin turned to you with a devilish grin “He likes you.” She giggled, reaching out to poke your shoulder.

“Good for him.” You replied, trying to seem confident and uncaring about the whole situation. Internally, you were utterly rocked. He’d gotten to you. You’d drunk the Steve Harrington kool-aid. He was deeper, more genuine, honest, and cooler than you’d ever expected him to be. You were utterly intrigued and now you had to know more. But you weren’t going to admit it now, not when Robin was being so cocky about it.

“I think you like him toooo!” she said in a sing-song tone.

You scoffed “No, not really.”

Robin saw right through you. But there was no sense in arguing when you were like this. You had too much pride to admit it now, especially with Sylvia floating around, looking for any excuse to rip the rug out from under you. But she had an idea.

“So, listen, I’m not working tomorrow and we haven’t hung out in forever. Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Robin asked, pulling out cash from her wallet to cover herself and you, since she owed you money from the last time you’d gone out to eat.

“Sure, I’m not babysitting the brat tomorrow.”

“Great! You want to rent a movie or something? I get a discount at Family Video.”

You knew what she was doing, but you went along with it. No sense in calling her out now when she had a plan, it wouldn’t stop her anyway.

“Eh, whatever. I’m good either way.” You replied breezily.

“I wanna rewatch Carrie so let’s head over. Maybe grabbed some snacks too, I want some sour belts.” Robin said, climbing out of the booth and grabbing your hand, pulling you out. You didn’t really like horror movies and you really hated sour belts, they weren’t even sour, so you knew Robin was milking your ambivalence for all it was worth. What she didn’t know is that you actually kind of liked Carrie and you had a new dress that needed fitting and Robin would be the perfect model for it. Karma was a bitch.

Robin dragged you all the way to Family Video and inside, grinning at Keith and watching him blush as you passed by. He’d told you that he loved you the first and only time you hung out. You never called him back and Robin had to explain to him that saying I love you on a date that wasn’t even a date is the wrong move. Now, he wouldn’t even speak to you, which you didn’t mind.

“Y/N! Go gather as many packs of sour belts as you can get your hands on! I’m gonna find Carrie in the back!” Robin instructed.

“Get something fun too! Like the Princess Bride or something! Something I’ll actually watch!” you called after her. Robin flashed you a thumbs up and you sighed, turning on your heel and heading to the checkout line, grabbing lime green packs of rainbow striped, sugar coated candies off the rack and clutching them to your chest.

Robin found Steve in the back and, with very little pushing, sent him out onto the floor to talk to you. It only took two tries from him to get the courage to go and talk to you.

And again, he scared the shit out of you. He tapped you on the shoulder and you jumped a foot in the air, dropping all the sugary treats.

“Shit sorry!” Steve cried, dropping to his knees to clean up the mess.

“It’s okay!” you replied quickly, following suit. He shouldn’t have to clean up your mess after all. Your hands both rushed to grab the packages and when they brushed one another over the last packet, you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t nice. The briefest chance of touch set your heart aflutter. You felt like you were ten years old again. He handed the packages over quickly, standing up just as fast. He offered you a hand up, which you took, if only to hold his hand for the briefest of moments. God, who even were you? You pulled it away fast.

“So…what’s with all the sour strips?” he asked, looking over the armful of candy you had.

“They’re Robin’s favourite. She told me to grab a shit ton, so I did. She’s grabbing the movies for tonight.” You explained.

“What movies?”

“Robin wants to watch Carrie. I’m hoping she gets something fun too, like Fast Times at Ridgemount High or The Princess Bride. Something funny.” You replied. You’d never smiled so much in a day, your face was starting to hurt but with Steve you couldn’t help it!

“Oh yeah? Having a sleepover or something?” that cocky Steve Harrington attitude was coming out, but it wasn’t making you as nauseous as it usually would, which was very odd.

“Yeah kind of. Which means Robin’s gonna wanna watch horror movies, eat so many of these until she pukes, and sneak malt whiskey from her father’s liquor cabinet.” You said, not hiding the slight disdain in your voice.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna hem the dress I made for the Roenke County theatre’s production of Romeo and Juliet, sip vodka from my flask, and take away the sour belts when Robin gets sick.”

“Sounds fun?” Steve questioned.

“It probably won’t be,” you chuckled “But it’s not the worst way to spend a night.”

“How’d you think an evening with me would chalk up? In comparison I mean.” Steve asked, his hand coming to the top of the low black shelf to lean into you.

“Well I guess it would depend, what’s your plan?” you asked with a grin.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured softly, smirking far too confidently. You didn’t mind though, you knew what was underneath it all.

“Well, I’d have to think about it…how about you call me sometimes and we’ll talk about it.” You replied slowly, looking him up and down.

“Anytime, you got a pen?” Steve said. You nodded, pulling one out of your purse and grabbing his arm. You scribbled out your number on his palm, trying to make it as legible as possible and ignore how big and warm his hands were.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, that cool?” he said as you watched Robin saunter up too confidently, too proud of herself and of what she’d done.

“Sounds good.” You smiled, ignoring Robin’s cocky leer. “You ready to pay for this shit?” you asked as she walked up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Gimme the belts, I got this.” Robin said, eyeing up Keith like she was going to beat him up. Maybe she was. “Wait in the car, okay? I didn’t bring mine, so you’re driving me home.”

You nodded “Got it.” You turned to Steve, smiling softly “I’ll see you around, Harrington.”

“Definitely.”

[tansypoisoning]

(Un)Conditional - Part 1

Truce

You didn’t remember how or why you found yourself in Ransom’s bed in the first place, but now, poor, pregnant and desperate, you had your reasons for putting up with him, and they weren’t noble. His reasons for staying with you weren’t noble either.

   Me  🤝  The Reader Insert     making stupid decisions

In which the reader is pregnant with Ransom’s baby and he sees that as an opportunity for personal enrichment. Big changes to the original plot, but Idk where this is going, so stay tuned for my brain farts, and I accept suggestions (Ransom redemption arc? Or should I make him even shittier? I haven’t decided yet!). I still want to have Benoit Blanc in the story somehow, because he’s my jam, my jelly, my peanut butter and my peanuts. This chapter is safe for anyone who hasn’t watched the movie but THERE WILL BE SPOILERS in the future.

 Chapter 2 - I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

Fandoms: Knives Out

Genre: *surprised Pikachu face*

Ships: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Smut, some light choking, some daddy kink, mentions of past sexual assault, talk of abortion, unhealthy relationships, Ransom is an asshole, a fuckboy and also verbally abusive tbh.

You were such an idiot.

Many were the times you had come home after terrible dates, or left parties in your friends’ arms after a guy tried to finger-bang you when you were passed out on the couch, and yet you still let your guard down around men you knew to be assholes. You could always tell; you weren’t sure whether it was thanks to familiarity ,or if you had a knack for reading people, but you still let terrible men in when you knew them to be terrible. Bad habits, hard to break, yadda yadda yadda. All that made for piss poor comfort when you looked at the five little plastics sticks in front of you.

Feet tapping against the ground and your phone held in between your cheek and shoulder, you typed on your laptop. Planned Parenthood. You should’ve done this sooner, way sooner, when you could get an IUD, or the pill, or the shot, or whatever the fuck else, instead of trusting your reliably unreliable partners and your nonexistent backbone. Birth control was expensive, but it was nowhere near as expensive as a baby, and you were going to get the same amount of help with either, which was to say, none.

No… That wasn’t quite true. Your brother and your friends would pitch in if you asked, you knew, but, as previously established, you were an idiot.

You knew there were people who loved you and would support you no matter what, but you didn’t want to burden them with your problems. This mess was on you, on you and…

Mailbox. Of course he didn’t pick up. He got what he wanted from you, and was now moving on to another woman who was equally as gullible and equally as “passable” as you. You couldn't believe his negging had worked on you, you were so fucked.

Deep breathes. It wasn’t over yet, you could fix this. The… the thing was still only two months, you could get rid of it, with a pill, even. But should you?

You tossed your phone to the side and opened another tab. Fetus two months. You clicked the first result that mentioned the development of the thing growing inside you and read the section entitled “Baby”. Internal organs already in place… wiggling and waving like mad? Distinct facial features?!

Your hands found their way to your mouth as a sob found its way past your lips. No way. This was some forced-birther propaganda, it had to be.

You left that shitty website and opened usually trustworthy Wikipedia, but it was of no help. It didn’t exactly contradict the information the other website had given you – the difference between “waving” and “twitches” was negligible to your addled brain.

You closed your laptop with a little more force than it was wise. You stood and began pacing, one hand over your face and another resting on your abdomen. It was just your luck to have your eggs dodge the sperm of every jerk you could get to pay child support, only for you to end up carrying the Antichrist – and the Devil could afford the best lawyers.

Damned be the day you let Hugh RaNsOm Drysdale in your bed without a condom, and damned be you for being so fucking stupid. You deserved whatever suffering that came from this, and you could accept them with some grace if it didn’t feel like you were dragging an innocent along with you.

You stopped and looked down at the row of pregnancy tests arranged over the bathroom counter, all of them positive. You couldn't do this. You regretted that one night of meaningless sex more than you regretted anything in your life, and maybe you’d regret your current decision even more but you couldn't do the thing you knew you should do.

You swiped all the tests into your arms and dumped them in your bag. You grabbed your keys and walked out of your pitiful apartment and into your pitiful car. You had barely enough money to take care of yourself, let alone a child. Abortion could be the best thing you could do as a mother, but…

You pushed the keys into the ignition and shook your head. You were emotional, that was all. If you just gave yourself a little more time you’d stop thinking of it as more than the parasite it actually was, but for now… For now you needed to get things straight with the sperm donor, no matter how much it could hurt, and you were under no illusions – it would hurt like a motherfucker.

You had been in Ransom’s unfairly cool house a grand total of three times. He didn’t like having you over, much preferring fucking at your house even if he turned up his nose at the building and everything inside it. Maybe he didn’t like having to disinfect his furniture every time it got into contact with your poor people germs.

Yeah, like he cleaned anything.

You parked in front of the contemporary building and made your way to the front door, ringing the bell four times because Ransom never answered when people rang only once or twice, and then another because you were filled with dread, and manic energy, and the powerful desire to punch him in his perfect face until it wasn’t quite so perfect anymore.

You waited several minutes but there was no answer. It wasn’t surprising; if he was inside you’d have seen him through one of the outrageously large windows that covered almost every wall of the house.

You sat down on the steps to the entrance and pulled out your phone. You were done with work for the day, and you weren’t sure when he would want to pick up your calls again. You could wait.

And wait you did.

It was two in the morning when Ransom’s BMW pulled up in front of the building, activating the motion sensor lights. He walked out of the car with the confidence of a man who knew he owned everything he surveyed.

Fucking dipshit.

“Wow,” he laughed, opening his arms then dropping them to his side again, lest he appear too inviting. “You want it bad.”

You started rummaging through your bag for the pregnancy test as not to waste your time with pointless conversation. That should tell him everything you wanted to say.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood today,” he said pulling his keys from his stupid suede coat only he could make look hot “long day, you know how it is. You can suck my cock and stay over, if you want.”

He had unlocked the door and was nudging you with his foot when you found what you were looking for and got up with a jump.

You waved the stick in the air victoriously. Even though you were the one who was the worst off in this scenario, you could at least use the source of your misery to wipe the smirk off his dumb, gorgeous face.

Done and did. Once Ransom caught on, the corner of his mouth dropped, free falling. Your life had been thrown in disarray, and the medical bills, if you chose to keep the thing, would ensure you would end up homeless in a couple of months, but at least you could rejoice in the fact you had ruined his eternal party in a spectacular fashion.

“What do you want?” He snarled. “Can’t pay the abortion? How much is it?”

You recoiled as if he had just swung a knife in your direction. This was new. You’d seen him angry before, sure, but this… the curl of his lips, the look in his eyes– it had you second guessing your decision to come see him.

You struggled to find your voice for a few seconds “I don’t… I haven’t decided what I want to do yet.”

Regret pierced you through like a lance. You knew he didn’t care about you – he didn’t “do monogamy”, he never asked you about your day, it was a struggle to get him to even buy you a coffee, and he only bothered to make you come if he could use it to feed his pride somehow – but all his disinterest in your well-being was nothing compared to the loathing radiating from him, like you were a fat dying cockroach stuck to the bottom of his nice leather shoes.

There was no reason Ransom should be able to make you feel like that. He was an absolute shitheel, a trust-fund baby who had never had a job in his life, never worked to build anything, and didn’t even have the decency to be thankful to his family for all they had done for him, and you didn’t even like him (conceding that he was attractive and you were a masochist was not the same as liking), so his opinion shouldn’t matter to you, someone with a stable source of income and an ounce of moral fiber. That didn’t stop you from writhing under his gaze.

“Get in,” he said, voice devoid of anything that could be considered charming.

You entered, waiting at the side, in fear of walking past the foyer without invitation, while he locked the door behind him.

He walked by you and went right to the kitchen. You followed him with your eyes, watched him grab a glass, fill it with water and down it. He didn’t offer you anything – you figured he didn’t think you deserved it.

“You’re suggesting it’s mine.”

His words startled you from your stupor, and you shook in your spot by the entrance before answering. “I know it’s yours. I haven’t slept with anyone else in almost a year.”

“And you are saying that.”

You bristled at his insinuation. “We can get a paternity test, if you want.”

Ransom lifted his head and inhaled sharply. He paced the length of his high end, open concept, immaculate-because-it-was-never-used kitchen, then opened a drawer, pausing to look up at you, closed it, then moved to the next and repeating the process several more times, while you shifted from one foot to the other.

“Here’s the thing, honey,” he said, and the last word was said with anything but sweetness “I’ll pay for the abortion, and I’ll pay for you to have the abortion. If you’re not gonna do it, then I don’t want to see your dog face again.”

You knew Ransom didn’t like kids – he despised them, even – but you didn’t think he’d react quite this badly. You knew he would want nothing to do with it, but you still thought telling him was the right thing to do. He deserved to know at least, surely.

The feeling you got when he first turned on you that night was a sign; you shouldn’t have come.

“I’m leaving,” you whispered.

Ransom’s cheeks were red and wide, and it seemed as if he was about to argue when he slammed his hand against the counter then stomped towards you.

You shrunk in on yourself, but you needn’t have. He just unlocked the door and pulled it open, holding it for you to walk through. His breathing was heavy and his shoulders were tense, like he was holding himself back.

Once you had rallied your strength and crossed the threshold, you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Ransom, still glaring at you with the same awful expression. You couldn't imagine what he had to tell you that hadn’t already been said.

“If you try contacting me again, you’re fucked.”

And then he slammed the door in your face.

You made your way to your car, head hanging low. That had been a disaster, but at least he made it easier for you to choose one of the options.

Fucking dipshit.

You had been right; time had given you helped you think things over.

Three days later and you could refer to the fetus as a fetus without going down a depressive spiral, and the thought of abortion was more palatable to you. In a couple more days you were certain you’d be able to walk into Planned Parenthood with your head held high, get your pill, and walk out, facing the world and the potential crowds of angry protesters with confidence, then move on with your life, promising never to get involved with another shitty guy again. The scare would be enough to make you change your ways, you were sure.

You didn’t want a kid, at least not yet. You were young, living paycheck to paycheck, and any child you had right now would grow up without a father. You were still mulling it over but abortion seemed like the most responsible choice, and if you couldn't make the responsible choice now, you’d make for a terrible mother in the future.

A knock on the door made you look up at the clock. Fifteen past eleven. Maybe the old lady who lived across the hall from you needed help killing a bug or something. You stood, pulled the latch off and unlocked the door, not thinking much of it, and almost walked face first into a hard body you were far too familiar with.

Ransom was there, waiting for you, his face inscrutable. His chest was heaving, and some serious heat emanated from it. You had the urge to hug his waist and burrow into his warmth, but you resisted it bravely. You’d promised yourself you would stop chasing men like him, and you intended on keeping that promise.

“Ransom,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice even.

A flash of pain roamed his face, and then he was putting his hands on you, holding the side of your face in his large palms. You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound was muffled between your lips and his.

A kiss. Ransom was kissing you – and a second ago you were so sure he was paying you a visit just to beat you up.

He maneuvered you into your apartment, still cradling your cheeks with surprising gentleness. You knew you should’ve stopped him, but your feet followed his steps with such ease, and he was so fucking warm and you living room so cold.

As one of his hands slid from your face to the back of your neck, something inside you screamed. It told you to stop now or it would be too late, and you’d fall into the same old hole and not be able to crawl out of it. You surprised yourself by listening to it and pulling away, pushing on his chest to keep a good distance between you. You told yourself you were doing well, even though you were holding onto his white shirt like a lifeline and arching your body into his.

“Ransom, wha-” your words were cut off by another kiss, more heated than the previous.

He pushed you down onto your couch -  the creaky old thing he always complained about – and climbed on top of you you, forcing you both into a laying position.

When Ransom pulled away (only to immediately latch his lips to your earlobe) you made to question him before the weakest part of yourself could convince you to just let it happen. It was she who had gotten you into this mess in the first place. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He mumbled against your skin.

“I know what you’re doing,” you huffed, twisting your body beneath him in a half-assed attempt to buck him off “You told me to never contact you again. Why are you here?”

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that had your very core thrumming. He removed his hands from you and pushed himself up by the forearms to look down at you. When you saw his smirk, you knew you were going to end up having sex with him no matter what he said next.

“I guess I couldn't keep away.”

And with that he went right back to his station, sucking and nibbling on the spot just behind your ear and running his hand across your waist and belly.

But what about the baby? What about whether you wanted to keep it or not? These questions were lodged in your throat, dying to burst out, but you didn’t want to to ruin this moment. You were so tired; you just wanted to be held, and Ransom was willing to do that for you, so what was the harm in giving in?

You lifted a leg and wrapped it around his thigh, and that Ransom took as acquiescence or defeat. He pulled away to lift your shirt above your breasts and wasted no time diving for them, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and squeezing the other in between his fingers. You planted your feet on the couch and used them as leverage push your crotch upwards and rub it against his. He was a terrible person, you knew, but he could fuck you so good when he wanted to, and right now you only had the brain space to care about one of those things.

Your hips rocked in tandem with his, driving you closer to that edge you didn’t know you were yearning for until you saw him standing on your doorstep. Entangled in his arms, you remembered your older brother’s words from that night some ten years ago when you were lying on the backseat of his car, a plastic bag filled with your vomit clutched in your hands. You saw his eyes in the rear view mirror, crinkling in a smile that was equal parts amused and concerned.

A pretty boy is going to be the end of you, huh?

Ransom pushed himself into a kneeling position, removed his dark cardigan and tossed it to some forgotten corner of your living room, his shirt receiving the same treatment soon after. For someone who was so averse to working, he sure didn’t skimp on his work outs. He was built like a god, but his smile was that of the devil.

He crashed down on top of you, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you to him. You sunk both hands in his perfectly coiffed hair and dragged him up until you were staring into his baby blue eyes. He leaned down to kiss you, and you obliged him. His mouth devoured your own while his hands roamed your body, hungry, desperate almost. You didn’t want to be outdone, both because he was an asshole and you didn’t want to lose to him, and because you were as starved of him as he seemed to be of you, so you wrapped both legs around his waist to pull yourself even closer to him, as close as you could get.

Ransom’s hands abandoned your body in favor of his belt, unbuckling it to shove his pants just past his upper thighs. His eyes were pointed, telling you he expected you to follow his lead. You undid your buttons with heavy fingers, and allowed him to pull your bottoms all the way off. His grin grew in size and insolence when he saw your panties were soaked through.

“You do want it bad.”

Fucking dipshit.

Before you could think of something smarter to say, he was dragging your underwear to the side and spreading your folds. You certainly weren’t going to think of a comeback now, with his fingers up your cunt and your body begging for his attention. You wouldn’t be this aroused with any other man, but you already knew you suffered from a serious case of tastelessness and dumb. Most grievously, it appeared to be terminal.

Ransom stoked the fires inside you with one hand, pulling it out periodically to smear the wetness across your lower lips while he held himself aloft with the other, his usual lazy, confident smile plastered on his face. It made a sudden wave of lucidity wash over you.

What the fuck were you doing? You knew he wasn’t worth your time since the day you met him; Three days ago he had treated you like shit after you told him you were pregnant; Just a few minutes before you were determined not to get involved with him or men like him ever again. All the signs told you to stop now, push him away and tell him to get out under threat of you calling the police, and yet here you were, panting under him and dying to feel his cock stretching you. The mere promise of dick had you going back on your word like a rat, and all you did was make excuses for yourself. You were always too weak or too dumb to resist your urges, weren’t you? That’s why you never bothered trying.

“Wai-”

The air was forcibly expelled from your lungs when his cock entered you. He wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t have to be; your body was more than ready for him. The grunt that came fro you had an air of finality to it. You weren’t going to stop him now.

The screaming part of you let out one final screech, then withered and died.

Ransom panted, rolling his hips against yours. You held onto his arms and looked up at him. This was unusual. Normally he’d be pounding into you when you were this slick, and unusual with Ransom tended to mean ‘bad’.

He brought two wet fingers to your face and tapped your chin with them.

“Get me clean.”

You parted your lips and accepted the appendages into your mouth. Nothing unusual there; he’d made you taste yourself on his fingers a couple of times. He liked to watch you lick them clean, but this was different. His smile was strained and his eyes looked past you. You turned the full powerful of your best puppy impression on him, but he still seemed to be half-there half-somewhere else.

Once you had slurped all your juices and then some, Ransom moved both his hands to your arms, pressing you against the hard surface of the couch. He should’ve started fucking you already, but he only rocked his pelvis side to side, giving you just a hint of friction, nowhere near enough to satisfy you.

You whined and bucked your hips upwards. That got him out of his trance, his eyes regaining their shine and his smile splitting into a grin. There was that asshole you knew and didn’t love.

“What’s with that face?” He asked and moved one of his hands to your neck, applying pressure, not enough to compromise your breathing but enough to leave you light-headed for a different reason “You want something?”

“Ransom,” you clawed at his forearm like you could do anything if he chose to choke you.

“You gotta ask, baby. If you want daddy to fuck you, you gotta ask.”

Your fingers stilled around his arm. The daddy thing was not new either, but you didn’t think he’d bring it up under the present circumstances. Was this intentional, or was he not even aware of what he was saying? Were you wrong to think it was weird for him to say that now?

The fingers around your throat tightened, closing your airway for a moment, then releasing.

“Ask.”

You squirmed, tapping on his arm, but all that got you was another squeeze.

“Please,” you whimpered “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Ransom’s grin grew even wider, wide enough that light reflected off his canines. He adjusted his position on his knees, and took his other hand from your arm, reaching behind your head to pull you by the hair, further exposing your neck to him.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered against the top of your head.

He pulled his cock almost all the way out, then slammed back inside you. He pushed into you with shallow thrusts until he tapped a spot that made you gasp. Having found what he was looking for, Ransom diverted most of his attentions to hitting his target over and over again, periodically stopping to grind against it in a torturous slow pace.

You were too aroused to last much longer, and the bastard would be able to finish you off with little effort.

“You close, baby? You wanna cum?” He asked, and you nodded emphatically “Then you gotta do what daddy says. Can you do that?”

God, you’d do anything he asked of you at this point. Someone needed to tattoo ‘Sucker’ on your forehead already.

“Yes, daddy!” You cried, your words devolving into a high-pitched whine “I’ll do anything, please!”

The hand in your neck slid down across your body and delved in between your legs in search of your clit. You squealed when his fingers made contact, and whimpered when they began rubbing. You were aware of your trembling legs, but unable to do anything about them.

Ransom could always dismantle you with ease, but now more so than ever. You came in record time, with short little moans that culminated in an embarrassing howl. You were just coming down from your high when he picked up his pace, grunting and huffing above you. He gave you no warning before spilling into you, swaying back and forth and groaning as his own orgasm ebbed away. The fact that this was the least concerning thing he’d done all evening didn’t escape you.

He held you to him for a few seconds as both your breaths evened out, then rolled over, leaning against the backrest and lying you down by the outer edge of the couch. Ransom was always more tractable after sex, but he’d go back to being his dismissive self come the morning, and then you’d bitch and moan to yourself. This was a familiar dance you couldn't seem to stop repeating.

You were ready to recommence your self-pitying when Ransom spoke, interrupting the flow of your lamentations.

“I thought about what you said the other day,” he said. The pregnancy? Why would he bring that up now? “and if you want to keep it, I’ll help you.”

A tremor ran through your spine and you lost your precarious balance on the couch, falling to the carpet with a loud thud.

There was laughter – because of course there was – then Ransom was peering down at you. His lips were pressed together, as if he was still fighting to rein in his amusement.

“You… you want to help me?” You asked when you found your voice again.

He nodded. “I do.”

“You want to help me raise a kid?”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes “I thought that was obvious the first two times I said it.”

“You don’t like kids.”

“I like to think I would like my kids,” Ransom said, stretching across your couch like a lazy cat.

“Why?” You said, then, realizing that question was more for yourself than it was for him, you rephrased your question “What made you change your mind? Cause you seemed pretty sure when I saw you last.”

“And I was,” he agreed “I never wanted kids, and… And I was pissed,” he chuckled and shook his head “I don’t know who I was pissed at. All I know is I couldn't think straight. When I saw the pregnancy test… I don’t know, I could see my entire life crumbling.”

You could’ve asked him ‘what life?’ but decided against it.

“So, cut to a few days later, and I had this… Clarity. I realized there was nothing I could do if you wanted to keep it, and maybe,” he paused to take a deep breath “maybe I should take responsibility.”

You sat up and made a point of frowning at him. “Seriously, what happened?”

“I told you already. Just… boom – clarity.”

You knew Ransom was sharper than a first impression would lead one to believe, but self-awareness was not his forte. Could he have had a change of heart in such a short period of time? Did you believe him? You wanted to believe him.

“Do you seriously want to raise a kid with me?”

He laughed and threw his hands up in the air “How many times do I gotta say it?”

“Do you even know what that entails?”

“Hey, I babysat my cousins a couple times,” he said, picking at the foam peeking through a hole in the upholstery of your couch “I bet I’d do better than you.”

Being a parent had to be harder than watching children for a few hours, but as far as experience with children went… well, maybe he was onto something.

A palm emerged in front of you, rousing you from your thoughts.

“Truce?” Ransom asked. There was something about the way he looked at you gave you hope.

Earnest, he looked earnest.

You took his hand in yours and shook once.

“Truce.”

Part 2: I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

[loves124]

Neighbors ch. 2

If there are any errors or mistakes please don’t hesitate to let me know :)

Also don’t hesitate to give me some fresh ideas

Thank you,

Love you,

Enjoy!

(Shouta Aizawa x fem!reader)

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I hadn't spoken to my neighbor in a while since the night I got locked out of my own apartment. It's not that I didn't want to; trust me, I wanted to. He gave me a sense of peace when I talked with him. He focused on the details of all of my words as if they were the last words I would ever say. He made me feel as if I were actually important.

I want to see him again. I also am a little terrified of seeing him again. The end of that night felt so... intimate. I am really attracted to this man; it's not even funny. I don't want to go through the pain of rejection or abandonment again. I had already gone through that with a previous boyfriend.

I had given him everything—all of my time, my love, my adoration. I did everything for him. I wanted to live my life just for him, but all of my efforts were just met with a disappointing ending. He was my first for many things, and I wanted him to be my last.

I don't know if I could handle that same look of disgust on Aizawa's face when it came to me. I didn't want to throw my life away for another guy. If anything, I should stick to being friends with him. Nothing more.

That doesn't mean I can't imagine all of the things he could do to me.

I know. It sounds creepy. I mean, but come on, how could I not?

Aizawa filled my head for the next couple of days. I was surprised to have not seen him even once, especially when he is my neighbor. I don't want to get attached to him, but it wouldn't hurt for me to stop by with some treats, right? It's the neighborly thing to do. Right? Right.

I decided that I was going to make a strawberry cake. I just hope that Aizawa is a fan of strawberries. If he isn't, I'll call him psychopath for not finding them absolutely delicious, and then I'll retreat to my room and wallow in shame and embarrassment.

On my way home from work, I run to the store to grab the ingredients that I need for the cake. I take a quick look in the "Tea & Coffee" aisle to see what they have to offer. 'Maybe Aizawa would like a nice calming tea with the cake?' I take a look at all of the options labeled and decided to buy both peppermint and rose teas. The rose tea will pair well with the strawberry cake, and the peppermint can be another gift for him. I remember reading something about how peppermint tea is good for fatigue and stress. Aizawa looks like he needs something that would help in that area.

Once I get back home, I immediately start on my work. I was trying my hardest to follow the recipe to the last letter and attempting to finish the cake before it got too late.

It looks alright, my frosting skills are in room for improvement, but the taste is immaculate. I go and grab two slices of cake and the teas, giving myself a quick pep talk outside of the door to prepare.

You are just being a good neighbor. You aren't going to eat all of this cake by yourself, right? No. This cake deserves to be shared with someone, right? Correct. So it is perfectly okay for you to stop by and offer some cake.

I raise my hand and give a quick couple of knocks on the door. And my heartbeat starts to pick up more.

Shit. We still have time. We can run for it. I look over to your apartment door. I can make that in a couple of seconds. Yeah, I can make that. Aizawa will just think it was some stupid ding-dong-ditchers. Okay, run-

Before you even have another thought, the sound of the door unlocking and opening interrupts. It opens to reveal my neighbor himself. He is wearing black slacks, a button-up shirt, and he loosened the tie that was one tight around his collar but is now lazily draped on his chest.

He looks more delicious than that stupid cake you made. Shit, the cake. I haven't talked since he opened the door. Talk idiot.

"Hey! um... sorry, I just made some cake and had no one to share it with, so I thought I would bring some um some over." I feel so intimidated by him. Why does he have to be so hot? It feels like it should be illegal.

He smirks down at me, probably because I look like a hot mess right now.

"You don't have to accept, by the way, I totally understand-" I get cut off.

"Cake sounds amazing right now," he truthfully tells you. "I will say, though, I was just winding down. Would you mind waiting a bit for me? I just have to take a shower and get changed."

"Oh yeah, sure, I can wait a bit" I smile. I get ready to pivot on my feet and head back to my apartment, but he invites me inside. Oh. He meant to wait in his apartment.

I slowly make my way inside, asking permission to use his kitchen to make tea. As I prep the tea, I can hear the shower run.

My thoughts go wild.

That hot hunk of a man is naked and wet behind the wall right next to you, and you are here making tea for him.

Life is crazy.

I wish life was a little crazier and would let me see those washboard abs of his. Bet I could grate cheese on them motherfuckers, hot damn.

I take a look through his cabinets and find the two mugs that we both used the last time I was here. Deciding to use them once again. I fiddle with the rim of the mug as I wait for him to get out of the shower.

"Sorry, did I take too long?"

My head turns to see him walking through the doorway. He looks a little more in his element, being in a white T-shirt and baggy sweatpants—steam radiating off of him.

Dear Lord...

I choke out a quick reply and avoid eye contact. "No, you're all good."

"You didn't have to wait for me, you know?" he says while pulling out a chair next to you by the counter.

I smile as I take a sip of the rose tea. "Food always tastes better when the other person is eating with you."

"cute," he mumbles, and I can feel my face flush red. He takes his first bite, and I can't help but stare in anticipation. I feel relieved when he gives an approving "Mmm" sound and goes in for another bite.

I finally release that breath that I didn't even know I was holding and follow his actions by taking a bite of my own. It's a comfortable silence between us both, and I start to find myself less intimidated and more at ease.

Conversation strikes again once we both finished.

"It's been a little while since I last saw you. Have your days been getting better?" he questions, grasping both of my empty plates and bringing them over to the sink to rinse them off.

I lean back into the chair, pulling the warm mug to my chest before I reply. "Yeah, it's been better. I'm pretty sure that I was just at the breaking point that one day. I'm glad that it's over with." I sigh into the mug.

"Good. I hope that's the end to your breaking and entering as well."

I laugh, "How could I break into my own apartment?"

Turning his head over his shoulder so I can see his smirk, he replies, "I saw you do it before my own eyes. You're a criminal, sorry to break it to you, sweetheart."

Ooh, sweetheart, I like that.

"Whatever," I scoff. "What about you, Mr. Dark and Broody? How has UA been?"

"Oh, it's okay—something new every day. I had a student blow up his desk today after arguing with another student. He seriously has anger issues that need to be handled." he laughs.

"Really that's crazy! What's his quirk?" I'm genuinely curious now.

"His sweat contains nitroglycerin, and he can ignite it on command," he replies.

"Wow, finally, a sweaty prepubescent boy can use his sweat to his advantage" we both laugh. The conversation continues, and I learn more about the students in his class and the tasks given in the day to prep them to become famous heroes.

It takes you a second, but you realize something. "By the way, I never asked you, but what's your quirk Aizawa?"

He leans against the counter, "I can disable other people's quirks by staring at them, but if I blink or can't see them, it won't work."

"That's so cool!" I enthusiastically say. "No wonder you work at that school. Your quirk is so good."

He quickly shifts the conversation from him to me. "What about you (L/N)? What's your quirk?" I guess he isn't the type of person that likes to bask in admiration.

"Oh, it's nothing like yours, but I can manipulate plants. It comes in handy, especially since I like being a plant mom."

"Oh, you like plants?" he asks.

"Like is a bit of an understatement. My home practically resembles a jungle," I laugh. Nerding out a bit, I talk about all of the plants I own and their qualities.

"What's your favorite plant you have?" he asks. He looks so interested in everything I have to say. He leans in close, grasping every word I utter. Questioning the qualities of some plants or asking for the descriptions of them when he can. It makes my chest feel warm inside. It's been a long while since I felt like someone actually listened.

We continued to talk till we both got hit with waves of fatigue. With a yawn and stretch, I get myself up and grab my stuff. He walks me to my door outside my apartment.

"Thanks for having me over again. I really enjoyed talking with you. For someone who is dark and broody, you are pretty easy to talk to. I hope we can do it more often." I have a gentle smile plastered on my face as I gaze up at him.

"Maybe next time we can have tea at your place, you can show me all the plants you were talking about. I'd like to have an image to match a description," he tells me.

I dig through my pocket trying to find my key card, and through my struggle, some strands of hair escape my messy bun. When I successfully find it, I unlock my door and turn to wish him goodnight. I am then met by his hand brushing the stray strands of my hair behind my ear.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he tells me.

I mumble a quiet "goodnight" back before closing my door and sinking into it, face flushed.

Now how am I going to sleep...

[weregonnaneedmorewhiskey]

Covet

Chapters 1, 2, 3

Chapter 4. “You Know That Guy I Hooked Up With In Miami?”

Warning: Strong Language

Let me know if you wish to be tagged by sending an ask, DM or reply :)

Songs for this chapter:

Streets- Doja Cat

Early Mornin'- Britney Spears

April 5th- 11:45am

Karla

"I'm sorry, that's not possible. I'm calling to pay my share of this month's rent. It can't have been paid already". Turns out my attempt to pay my rent has been prevented. Maybe Adrienne covered my share by accident or there's a mistake.

"Karla, I got your share yesterday" Our landlord David explains. "It was paid by someone else, not Adrienne. I'll just search that up for you. Someone called J.Brooks. They paid for your next six months".

"J.Brooks huh?" I immediately know who he's talking about and I can't help but roll my eyes. "Ok, thanks David". I should probably end this conversation before he starts asking questions.

"Do you know this person who paid your rent?" He asks.

"Yeah, he's... a family friend. I guess he just wanted to be nice and do me a favour" Or be a fucking weirdo. Who the hell pays their one night's stand's rent? Unless he thinks I'm his sugar baby. Oh shit, why did I sleep with this guy. This is what happens when I let Taty talk me into dumb shit.

"Well he seems like a really generous guy" David snaps me out of my inner monologue.

"Yeah David, I got to go" I abruptly hang up and flop back onto the couch.

"OH MY GOD!" I scream.

"You ok babe?" Adrienne walks through the door. Based on her sweat soaked clothes, she just got back from her morning jog.

"No. I'm totally screwed" I tell her.

"What happened?" She takes a drink from her water bottle before joining me on the couch, forgetting she should probably cool down from her jog.

"I tried to pay my rent and I called David and someone had paid it for me" She sees the annoyed expression on my face and immediately she goes to say...

"It wasn't me".

"I know it wasn't you. It was James. You know that guy in Miami I hooked up with?" I confess to her.

"James paid your rent?"

"Not just my rent. He paid for the next six months. What the actual fuck?! We only went one date and had sex once and now what? I'm his sugar baby?" I feel myself getting more annoyed at the situation.

"Yeah I don't think that makes you a sugar baby Karla. Maybe he's just nice" She tries to convinced. I am not buying that shit at all

"No one is that nice Adrienne unless they want something!" I shout back.

"Then call him and ask him why he did and probably ask how he knows our address because that's the only way he'd be able to pay your rent and maybe ask if he'll pay your best friend in the whole world's share" Her voice sort of trails off at that last part of the sentence but believe me, I hear what she said.

"Fine. Give me a few minutes, I'm going into my room to make a phone call". Quickly, I go my room and searching through the contact list on my cell. Ok, look under J, there he is. First ring, second ring, fourth ring, fifth-

"Hello Karla" His baritone voice travels through the speaker and for a brief moment, I remember him whispering in my ear. And I remember I'm pissed off at this motherfucker.

"Hi, where do you get off paying my fucking rent?!" I ask him.

"And how are you this fine San Francisco morning?" He asks

"I'm pissed off and wait- aren't you in Miami? Why are you asking about my morning here?" I start looking around for any hidden cameras I should be aware of, in case this creep is watching me on his laptop.

"I am in Miami and I just got out of a meeting. Yes, your rent. I felt like being charitable and wanted to help out. Is that not ok?" He asks. His tone doesn't seem sarcastic, it almost seems...genuine.

"If you wanna be charitable, then donate to fucking Make-a-Wish" I tell him with a stern tone.

"I'm sorry. I've clearly overstepped the mark. I'll tell you, it would probably be better for you to yell at me in person so how about this? I take you out to dinner tomorrow night since I'm gonna be in San Francisco for four days?" He asks. He still seems genuine.

"I don't know what kind of arrangement you think this is but-"

"I'm not looking for an arrangement" He interrupts.

"What?" He actually has me stumped. This is rare.

"If I was looking for an arrangement, there's a whole website I can do that on. Contrary to what you probably believe, I actually enjoy your company. If you want to see me whilst I'm in town then I'm staying at the St Regis hotel. If you don't want to see me, then have a nice life. Bye Karla" He hangs up the phone. I sit on the bed, staring at my phone, completely stumped and just wondering...what the fuck just happened here?!

"That was some phone call" I see Adrienne leaning against the door. Lord knows how long she was standing there.

"I know right?" I reply.

"So, you gonna meet up with him tomorrow night?" She asks.

"That's a good question. I don't know. He's...interesting you know?" I tell her.

"Good interesting or "interesting" " She puts up air quotes around the second interesting.

"Good interesting but with a bit of a mystery. Like those guys you see in film noirs and Alfred Hitchcock films. Those guys you can't really figure out what side they're on and they only let you know piece by piece" I explain to her

"Like a puzzle" She chimes in.

"A bit. It's all so confusing A. I can't help but think if I see him again, I could be going down a very stupid road"

"I think you're overthinking this" She says. "Karla, he may just be a nice guy, no mystery and you can only find that out if you go on a date with him. No point trying to create a story here. I'm just saying "

"You got a point" She's always right. Damn it.

"Well, I'm gonna take a shower. Wash off the sweat from my jog. You wanna get brunch?" She asks.

"Sure. I'll just get ready". She closes the door behind her, leaving me alone in my room. I pick up my phone and go to messages.

"Is eight thirty ok?" I wait for a reply. Thirty seconds has barely passed by when I hear my phone vibrate

"See you then"

Tagged: @emjayewrites @laketaj24

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Trust: Jake

CW: References to violence, beating, blood, noncon/dubcon, domestic abuse, child abuse, and all the other gross that goes along with the Box Boy universe

The final installment of this mini-narrative I’ve been working on where Jake and Chris took over my brain. I’m going to take a writing break for a couple of days and hopefully will start posting again on Monday! See my other BBU writings here.

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump

This piece features @deluxewhump‘s Alex, from her Frathouse Box Boy series - highly recommended reading! Alex is used with permission.

His fucking mugshot is all over the place.

Jake only barely remembers that part - it’d been on the second day, maybe, after he’d already been beaten and shocked and awake for nearly twenty-four hours. He has a vague knowledge of standing in front of lights, the sound of a camera, being made to turn. That knowledge comes alongside the memory of a pounding in his head, his knee, of zip-tied wrists dripping blood on the floor while the two men in front of him joked about something on TV the past weekend.

He’d forgotten it as soon as it was over - there were worse things going on in his life than having a photo taken of his black eye and busted-up face - but when he came back to school two weeks later, Jake discovered that just about everyone he spoke to had seen his mugshot on the local news website, with Public Intoxication, Criminal Assault, and Resisting Arrest listed as his charges.

It doesn’t matter that only one of those charges is real. It doesn’t matter that it’s not going to stick, and Nat has already told him that the lawyer who works with the safehouse pro bono is fairly certain they’ll drop the charge since no one can prove Jake resisted anything and the ‘cop’ in question is nowhere to be found.

It doesn’t matter, not any of it, because by the time all of that goes away - by the time he’s healed up enough to go back to class, and Chris has stopped panicking at the idea of him leaving the house, Jake is already known as the guy who got arrested for a drunk barfight after punching a cop.

He doesn’t bother telling anyone what actually happened. He doesn’t care enough about any of these people to try and change their minds about him. 

He doesn’t know who he can trust with the knowledge, either. No matter that the guys had given he and Nat two different stories on how they’d been found out, and it’s possible neither one is totally true, Jake is pretty sure it had to be someone on campus.

He goes early on Tuesday, feeling like shit but kind of wanting a break from Chris’s nervous clinging, just… just for a while. He’s done more comforting and caring for Chris than taking care of himself, and it feels good to be back home - and it is home, isn’t it? At some point it became his real home - but he could use the space to just breathe, and feel sorry for himself.

He hasn't spoken to Addie since the night before the raid. Just texted after he got back to let her know an emergency had come up and they'd talk again when he could. 

It’s not fair to her, but on the list of things that changed right before he got turned in… meeting Addie is the only big one. 

The idea that he got turned in by his fucking girlfriend seems so fucked-up and cliché and weirdly old-fashioned, somehow, that he refuses to think too hard about it. But… if it was her… if she would have sent Chris back to that motherfucker… he has to know.

He’s staring off into space over a cappuccino in the student center coffee shop when movement in front of him catches his eye.

“Um. Hey.”

Jake takes a deep breath at the familiar voice, raising his eyes to see… the frat guy. Alex Something-Something. The one that came and asked him about ways to get a Box Boy to pass because he wanted to take his frat’s human mascot or whatever out in public without people knowing what he was. 

The guy looks half-awake, a coffee in one hand and the other resting on the strap of the backpack hanging off one shoulder, wearing a big hooded pullover with his frat’s symbol on the front and blue jeans. 

Jake stares up at him, and thinks, you fucking bought one. A bit of anger twists in his chest, but Jake’s too fucking tired to hold onto it. His frat had bought a person, sure, but he couldn’t stay mad at someone who had really been trying to learn. Jake had messages on his phone from some friends who said there was a frat guy kind of nosing around for more info while he was gone, maybe going to join the movement.

It wasn’t fair to judge him by what he’d allowed to happen if he was going to try and do something about it now. What matters is that you leave, he reminds himself, thinking of his mother and Nat and the conversations he’s had, again and again, with people who had to fight between standing still and putting themselves at risk, even in small ways. What matters is that you choose, once or twice or four times or however many times it takes, not to watch it happen again.

He couldn’t hold on to anger when he saw the signs of someone wanting to change. He was too exhausted, carrying too great a weight on his own, and too scared that his one attempt to open up and meet someone had resulted in putting the lives of Antoni and Leila and Chris at risk.

He’d been the one having nightmares, the house turned upside down again and Chris dragged into the middle of the living room, a knee jammed in his back, screaming and screaming for help that Jake couldn’t give because his fucking girlfriend held him down. 

If it had been Addie all along, Jake would never date again. He honestly feels like the stupidest asshole on earth for having taken the risk at all. He needs to call her again, he needs to set up a meeting or some kind of dinner date or something. He needs to tell her that he’s scared.

Instead, he’s here way too early on a Tuesday morning, trying to figure out how scared he gets before he’s brave enough to take the risk of letting someone new in.

“Hey,” He says, buying himself a little time to think by taking a sip from his cappuccino, ruining the little heart the barista had drawn into the foam. “You’re on campus early. No house party last night?”

The guy gives him a weird look - like he’s looking for the insult and isn’t sure if he’s found it or not. “Last night was Monday.”

“Since when does that stop a frat house?”

There’s a pause, and the guy quirks kind of a half-sided smile, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay, fair enough. Some of the other guys had a couple people over to play COD, so I guess technically you’re right. Don’t be a dick about it, though, okay?”

“Sorry,” Jake says, and honestly, he kind of means it. This Alex guy’s pretty nice, and the longer he’s thought about it the more Jake is certain that he definitely isn’t the one who turned them in. Even if he’d been kind of complacent in stuff, he just… isn’t that kind of person. Jake can tell, deep in himself, that he’s not. “Sorry. I’m kind of an asshole, I probably should have warned you.”

“You, uh. You did, Jake.”

Jake raises his eyebrows, surprised the frat guy remembered his name at all. “I did?”

“Yeah, like… the first time we ever spoke, man. It was maybe the third thing you even said to me, that you’re an asshole about, uh… the stuff. You know. That we talked about.”

“Oh.” Jake clears his throat. His voice was back to normal - the first week it’d been hoarse, the screaming had turned the inside of his throat into raw meat, barely able to swallow the warm tea that Antoni brewed in massive amounts with plenty of honey. He’d made soup with carrots and ginger and some kind of yogurt and Jake had had to insist Chris not try to feed him like his hands were broken, not just bruised. “Sorry. I’ve had, um. It’s been a weird couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I heard about that.”

Jake’s eyes narrow as the guy sits down in the chair across from him, sipping his coffee, gripping onto the cup nervously. “Did you?”

“Uh. Yeah. The, um… you know, someone I knew showed me… your, uh. We were talking about it in class last week.”

Jake closes his eyes, slowly. Even after two weeks of rest, it’s hard to open them again. “Of course you were.”

“I mean… man, it’s not every week someone who sits three rows down gets arrested for fighting cops.” 

“I wasn’t-” Jake cuts himself off, his hands tightening around the cappuccino. “Never mind.”

“Nah, man, I’m teasing you. Look, I was going to hit up the library before, um, before our Ethics class.” 

Jake snorts. One possibility - the handler had told him it was the Ethics in Political Philosophy professor who turned them in. Could be him. Could be the landscaping company guy down the street, like they’d told Nat. Could be Addie. Could be the fucking yoga instructor who smiled at Chris and complimented his fucking posture, could be-

He catches his thoughts before they can take off, drag him down into depression again.

“I’m about to go beg for mercy before that class,” Jake says, dryly, and watches Alex smile in response. “Since I missed, what, four classes. And he’s not exactly known for being nice about that shit. Can’t exactly say my grandma died when the whole fucking campus has seen my face all bashed up, huh?”

“Oh. Uh, well. You don’t… actually, that’s why I’m glad I saw you so early.” Alex sets his coffee down - he’s been sipping it steadily - and reaches over to unzip the backpack currently sitting at his feet, digging around inside of it. “I figured I’d catch you before class started, but this is better. Um.”

“Why? You want to help me beg?” 

It’s Alex’s turn to snort. “No thanks. I try not to ever look him in the eyes, let alone ask him for anything. No, I wanted to talk to you because… here.” He pulls out a stack of papers more than an inch thick and sets them on the little table between them.

Jake blinks, and looks down. “What is this? Is this the shit I gave you? You’re… giving it back?”

“Fuck, no. No way, man. I… no. I want to keep those. This is, uh, this is two weeks of notes.” Alex pats the top of the paper like a car salesman patting the hood of a car, grinning at him with  kind of absurd, sweet pride in his eyes. “I talked my adviser into printing me a list of your classes, found some people I knew in them, and, uh. Here we go. That’s notes for every single one of your classes for the past two weeks, plus copies of the assignments.” Alex pauses, then pats the pile of papers again. “Man, you are taking way too many classes.”

“Yeah, well. I have a lot of shit to do on all the other days, I kind of have to load them…” Jake leans forward, barely able to believe it as he picks up the stack and flips through it. Different handwriting and little encouraging notes in the margins, copied assignment papers. He just… keeps blinking at it. 

“Yeah, I, uh. I know. I talked to some people when, you know… when it came out about the, um. Your face.” Alex waves his hand around, as if emphasizing his own absolute lack of injury. 

“Who’d you talk to?” Jake is still staring at the notes, feeling and unfamiliar flutter of something like… like real gratitude. He tells himself to say thank you, and for just a second, the words stick in his throat.

It’s been Jake and Nat versus the world for so long, it’s hard to believe the world just expanded to include a whole new person he barely knows. 

“Some people. You know. That, uh. Know you. I… I know it wasn’t a barfight, Jake.”

Jake’s fingers grip tightly onto the papers, and he raises his eyes to meet Alex’s sincere expression of real concern. “You do?”

“Yeah. I, uh. I had no idea shit like that even happens now… we never heard anything on the news-”

“Yeah, and you won’t.” Jake thinks of the Governor standing in the corner, hidden behind glass and shadows, laughing as they hit Chris across the hands to stop him from tapping, hit him again and again and again, the awful soundtrack of his cries layered over the top of that fucking pervert’s laughter. He’s going to fucking kill that man one day.

“Uh, Alex, I just-... you didn’t have to do this, man, that’s… really cool of you. Thanks.” He has to force out the word, but he wants to, he wants to say it. He never expected this. 

He’s spent so much of his life insisting he doesn’t need charity, he doesn’t need help, and his mom will get on just fine, thanks. No, those bruises aren’t because of things at home. No, he doesn’t need to talk to the guidance counselor, no, no, no no no-... but here it’s just been done, the mercy, the kindness. None of that bullshit how are you? with the overly exaggerated concern and sadness. Alex just… helped. It throws Jake off-kilter, the same way learning how every single neighbor they had had come together to care for Chris while they were gone throws him off-kilter. “How’d you get everyone to take notes?”

Alex shrugs, drinking his coffee again, supremely pleased with himself. “I just asked, Jake. You can get a lot of stuff just by being nice to people, you know.”

What if we had told the neighbors what we were before the raid? Would they have helped us?

“I wouldn’t know. You just… asked? God, no wonder you’re Poli Sci. You’re gonna make a hell of a politician one day.”

Alex’s smile, if anything, widens. “Yeah, I hope so. Maybe I can do something about this shit, then.” At Jake’s surprised expression, he rolls his eyes. “I read your stuff, Jake. I read every single page. I’m kind of in it, now, sort of. It’s hard to know it and not, uh, think about it. So, can I ask-... your cousin, the one that you brought to class for a while-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes a chance. He takes a risk. He goes stepping voluntarily off a cliff, maybe taking Chris along with him. Somehow, though, he can’t stop himself. He’s tired of feeling alone when he’s here. He’s kind of just tired of feeling alone. “He’s a rescue.”

“Is he a… you know.” Alex’s face darkens, and he clears his throat, looking almost ashamed of himself just for saying the words. “A, uh. Where they… refurbish them? I wish I knew a better word for it.”

“There aren’t any better words for when they pull that shit on people. And… No. He’s not.”

“Oh, okay. Um. What, uh, what kind was he-... I was reading about the different, uh, kinds-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Alex nods, slowly, looks down at his coffee, looks back up. “Sorry. How old is he?”

Jake’s jaw tightens - not at Alex, but at the memory of the boy in the video, shaking and terrified, whimpering I’m eighteen to a room full of adults who all knew he wasn’t. “I don’t know.”

“He looks really young.”

“He is. I don’t know how young. Alex, if you… if you tell someone about this shit, about him, they’ll take him away and send him right back. You get it?”

“Yeah. I get it. Except… d’you mind if I tell, uh, my, um… our… my friend? That I talked to you about before? If it comes up that getting, uh, rescued is a, uh, a thing? That, that maybe… I don’t know, maybe he could… go home with somebody. Have a home, like that kid has with you.”

“The kid’s name is Chris,” Jake says, quietly. “He picked his name himself. There’s a couple more where we live. When they’re ready, they move out, and they start new lives. Chris, it’ll take him a while.” If ever. “Look, I, um, this was… was amazing, what you did, getting all those notes put together. I don’t know how to thank you for it, really, saying ‘thanks’ just feels like it doesn’t really cut it, you know?”

Alex nods, finishing his coffee up and setting the empty cup down on the table, decisively. “It’s no problem, man. I get it. I’m just, uh. I’m just glad everything worked out.”

Did it? Is that what happened?

“Me, too,” Jake says, aware of how heavy his voice sounds, how false the sentiment. “Look, I, uh, I can’t bring Chris on campus anymore. There’s a possibility we were… found out… because of that.” His voice catches in his throat, but Jake pushes down the guilt. He has time for that later. “So… you won’t see him anymore.”

Alex is silent, for a long moment. Then he says, almost hesitantly, “What about meetings?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What if I… go to meetings? Do the, um. The… you called them ‘rescues’? Do they go to meetings? If I go to them, if I start, uh, going to them… would I see any? Be able to talk to them? Or…”

“Yeah. Rescues go, sometimes. They give talks about their lives, and everything. Antoni - sorry, I have a, uh, there’s one I live with right now named Antoni - he’s given talks on his life as a Domestic before. I don’t know about Chris, though, he, um... Chris struggles with-”

Chris would go into dark corners with anyone who smiled and touched his face and I don’t always trust the very people who are risking themselves to help us. Not with him. Not when he’s so easy to hurt, and easier to convince that you didn’t.

“That’s okay,” Alex says quickly. “It was just. He seems like a cool kid, I saw you guys over at the yoga class a couple times.”

Finally, Jake’s smile is genuine and real. He thinks of the mussed-up strawberry blond hair spread across the pillow when he woke up this morning, Chris mumbling to himself and shifting into the warm spot Jake’s body had made when he got out of bed. One arm flinging out to search for human contact. How young and soft and sweet he looked, in that moment, like a kid ignoring his alarm clock.

He should be in high school right now.

“He is,” Jake says, gathering up the papers from Alex, finishing his cooled cappuccino in a few quick drinks, setting it back down empty. He sticks the papers in his own bag. “He’s fucking amazing, Alex. He’s been through so much-... they’re all… they’re all fucking amazing. Do you get that? They’ve survived so much bullshit and they come out the other side and they still want to figure it out and get better. They’re amazing.”

“Yeah,” Alex says, softly. There’s a weird look on his face, one Jake can’t quite read. “Yeah, you know… they are.”

“You want to meet Chris sometime,” Jake says, pushing his chair back and standing up, pulling his backpack on over his shoulders. “You let me know. I think… I think I’d let him talk to you. Just… don’t hug him too much.”

“Does he not like that?” Alex looks up at him without standing up yet. “Ours, um, my-... the guy that lives with us… he really likes being touched. And it seems like, when Chris was coming with you…”

“No, he likes it. But he wouldn’t-... he can’t tell what kind of affection is safe, yet.” It’s as close as Jake’s going to get to explaining what Chris has been through, at least here and now. He catches someone pointing at him out of the corner of his eye and sighs. 

“No, ours. Uh. Ours can’t either, exactly.” Anger flashes on Alex’s face, distant and thoughtful, and then he just shrugs. “Look, just. I hope those papers help you, man. From what Meghan said, your place was basically trash from top to bottom. I guess she talked to some people who talked to your, uh, your boss or whatever.”

Jake and Nat still haven’t talked, not really. Two weeks later and they’re still drifting past each other, tense and uncertain, each waiting for the other to be the first to bring it up. He feels his shoulder hunch slightly at the mention of her. “Yeah. It was. They left-... You know what, I don’t, um. I don’t want to talk about it. Yeah? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, man, that’s fine. Not a problem. But… if you need help again, will you, uh. Text me or something?” Alex takes a deep breath, meets Jake’s eyes, his jaw set and the open, friendly face set in an expression of stubborn determination. “I want… I want to help you.”

Alex, Jake realizes, is also walking off a cliff, hoping there’s something other than rocks at the bottom. He’s also taking a risk. He’s got his own future, and he probably never saw it including this.

“What are you, um, able to do?” Jake asks, and there’s more to his words than just the surface. A depth he knows Alex can hear. What are you willing to do?

Alex shrugs, standing up finally, giving him that bright handsome smile, politician-to-be through and through. Jake almost wants to shake his hand and the guy’s younger than he is. “Don’t know yet. But, hey, sometimes all you have to do is ask, right? Sometimes it’s just about, like, trusting people not to be utter shits for five seconds.” He moves past Jake, walking away, and calls over his shoulders, “Next time, Jake, trust me, okay? If you need help, just ask.”

He leaves, sliding out through the set of double-doors that leads in from outside, and Jake just stands there, watching him go.

Just ask.

Easy for him to say. 

Harder, so much harder, for Jake to do.

He picks up his phone, staring after Alex’s backpack until it disappears into the morning, until he turns a corner down the walkway, behind a stand of trees, and is gone. 

Jake hasn’t trusted anyone who isn’t a rescue since he was a little kid. No one has ever been someone he could rely on. It’s never, not once in his life, been safe to trust the people who told him to trust them. Right from the start, the people who were supposed to give him a solid foundation had been the quicksand dragging him down.

Jake dials a number and holds his phone up to his ear. After a second, Addie’s warm voice picks up, blurry with sleep. “Jake? Hey, I haven’t… you haven’t called me in a couple of weeks, are you-... what’s up? Did you get your emergency thing sorted?”

Jake swallows, hard. “Can I… can I meet you for lunch during my long break today? I have something to ask you.”

Was it you?

“Yeah… yeah, sure. I missed you, Jake.”

If it wasn’t, can I trust you to know? 

“I missed you, too, Addie. A lot happened, and I just-”

“Yeah, I saw the mugshot, it’s all over campus… are you okay?”

Can I trust you to protect the rescues?

“I’m fine. Now. But, uh. There’s kind of more to it than that… I’ll tell you at lunch. Vegetarian wraps at 1:30, that sound okay? I’m buying.”

There’s a pause, and a smile in Addie’s voice. “Of course it’s okay. I can’t wait to see you.”

Can I trust you to protect Chris?

Jake hangs up, heading out himself, to look over the notes before his first class starts. Alex’s words ringing in his ears, a weight against his back. He’s never going to forgive himself for letting a fucking frat guy be more self-aware than he is. 

If you need help, just ask. 

Trust people.

Ask.

[monkey-network]

Why EVE is The Best

Heads up. I’m basically gonna sperg about this whole film, so spoilers for this twelve year old film. Enjoy!

Wall-E is one of my favorite films; I would gladly kill and extort to bring the sequel I had in mind to life in any way; animatics would pleased me if nothing else but anyways. I love this film and one of the biggest reasons for that is the character EVE, a character that stuck in my mind longer than most if you can believe. So, better time than any, Imma just ramble about why I love this character. And, before we begin, I’m gonna say EVE is a girl, Wall-E is a boy due to my brain believing they were respectively female- and male-coded for most of my life but do NOT let this stop you from envisioning them however you please. If they’re both girls or boys to you, all power to you. With that said, here we go...

The Design

Now I’m not saying she has the greatest robot design ever; I don’t look at eggs and remember better days when I got to watch that film for the first time in my old house. But Pixar certainly knew how to make simplicity work to perfection. Simple shape, simple mechanics, simple movements. All feeling right at home with her coming from the more advanced future, especially compared to Wall-E where he’s literally a more grounded looking robot. Thematically, this design is fucking genius. A scouter robot with the ability to fly with ease and yet carries a literal arm cannon with incredible fire power. Both expressing how she can have her head in the clouds, observational when necessary, and yet trigger happy amidst the slightest inconvenience or surprise. *MWAH* What the fuck? It’s a great duality where the hard, more logical exterior possesses a sweet and approachable core just waiting to be shown and it’s wonderful seeing Wall-E, this literal block head, fumble his way into having a simple conversation with her. Now I can’t really disassemble how the programming in Wall-E works where they can behave like humans but follow objectives like a machine... but, I can try. With this scene.

Now take this with a grain of salt, the inferencing is more to the imagination otherwise the fun of this movie is tarnished. But from this scene, it’s clear that in this universe robots can show feelings for one another but can’t be romantic with humans because they can recognize human emotions and reactions but do so in an automated sense. The film expresses their curiousity just enough to where their reactions to human things and functions are within reason and yet doesn’t toy with the viewer’s believability. EVE is capable of responding to Wall-E’s advances but doesn’t 100% reciprocate his feelings because Wall-E isn’t her directive (least not yet, that’s for later). Not to mention, she isn’t that adept at romance unlike Wall-E who, by being alone with Earth’s technology, was able to learn and process human romance through the Hello Dolly VHS and potentially other things over the years. So this conversation works with the two having their limited knowledge, we don’t know how much they know, and the film keeps focus on having a balance between somewhat logical reactions and minor impulsive humane reactions that makes them alive but only just enough so it doesn’t feel like them being robots is pointless... Phew. Speaking of which, you know what isn’t pointless? Her motherfucking buster cannon.

Her whole ass arm houses a gun capable of nuking an entire cargo ship in a matter of seconds and it makes sense that she’d have it cuz how can a scouter robot defend themselves but beyond that, it’s just so goddamn cool. Like yeah, I can express how this symbolizes about America and... how they want to fuck their guns or something but who cares. She has a FUCKING ARM CANNON and it’s badass, end of discussion.

The Hanger Moment

Much as I love the moment where the two are in space flying, I honestly say that this moment where the two are in Wall-E’s house during the darude sandstorm is incredibly important. EVE is reasonably taken to his home and naturally, when the lights come on, she looks through the stuff he gives to her. She gets to take it easy for once, things can be quiet after she blew up a whole ship, have a giggle or two at the trinkets he’s collected, with the cigarette lighter being a good tool that’ll be used for later.

She’s curious, bouncy, still a bit quick on the draw, but is nonetheless taking in a lot this robot on Earth has to offer. It’s this and the small 1v1 they had before that is a lovely seedling to not only their connection but EVE’s development on her own, where we hardly need dialogue to show how she’s feeling about it all. And yeah, I’m with plenty of people to say that if this movie was just about the two of them being on Earth it probably would’ve been the greatest Pixar film of all time for many. Fortunately the plot kicks in when Wall-E shows EVE the plant, forcing her to go dormant, thus pulling Wall-E into an adventure on the Axiom ship. And I say fortunately cuz this is where EVE goes from good to great as a character.

The Axiom

While it’s something where we all wish that this film wasn’t the densly plotted, society driven second half, I say the second half on the Axiom carries the film’s themes and character building for EVE to good heights. We enter EVE’s territory, the slick, iPhoney synthetic world where humans have become literal potatoes and everything’s more or less automated. For EVE, the first half of the film lets us see the more playful side of her and doesn’t mind being around Wall-E, but isn’t immediately won over with the concept of love. She’s still goal-oriented and trying to keep the two stuck on Earth would’ve made her arc as open-ended and ambiguous as The Good Dinosaur. Time on the axiom puts her original sense of thinking to the test when Wall-E tags along.

To share the bigger picture real quick, the human element of Wall-E is complimentary to Wall-E and EVE’s humane behavior. To quote RealJims’ honestly flawless analysis, “What better way to show the humanity in a robot than to be among humans that act like robots?” For Wall-E the robot, this works perfectly as a fish out of water story. His time on Earth affects not only a few humans, but other robots like MO and the secretary machine, as minor as it seems.

So when Wall-E seemingly fucks things up, EVE is rightfully peeved. His slip ups especially with the Diagnostics scene tests her goal-oriented nature and patience, to a tasteful comedic strength. Doesn’t mean they now turned Wall-E stupid, the film makes sure the monkey wrenches are only accidents from someone severely out of the loop of things. This leads them and us well into

The Depths of Space

The scene where Wall-E gets launched in the escape pod thrills me with joyfully painful suspense every time. EVE making a mad dash to him as Wall-E madly tries to get out of the soon exploding pod, leading to it exploding and we get this from EVE. The wide eyes of terror followed by the whispering “No”s gives me shivers every time I see it in full. 

Now one could argue her concern was more for the plant getting destroyed, but I say she was more frightened at the idea of both Wall-E and the plant getting nuked. While Wall-E did make her mad, she nonetheless cared about him and wasn’t expecting the tiny bot asshole to send him to death. So it’s like, “Oh no, both my purpose and the one that helped me are both gone.” 

Luckily, thanks to some foreshadowing, Wall-E made it out alive with the plant in safe keeping and EVE seeing Wall-E actually care about her goal makes her beam with joy, being that reasonable spark that brings the two closer together. I mean if your love interest cheated death to help you out, why wouldn’t it? Everything about this moment is what made EVE stick with me long after I watched the film; the emotional journey the director was able to convey with her is so well-built to this point, it’s still amazing how they were able to do it with little dialogue or facial expressions. I especially love the emptiness we get of the two of them in space, where it adds focus to the two of them especially. But my god, that’s only half of it...

The space dance sequence between the two is still one of Pixar’s most gorgeous scenes. The way Wall-E is able to keep up with the fire extinguisher after having trouble in the film’s beginning, the wide shots of space, the lovely glow of the engines, the music. I especially like to think of this scene as a parallel to EVE’s initial flight on Earth. For her, it was that rite of passage after the touchdown and now she gets to share that same moment with someone she’s grown to like or appreciate. Then again, this isn’t the moment where EVE loves Wall-E. We’re close, but we need that one inch to finally show her the truth. That’s when she sees

The Recordings

The moment where EVE gets to see the memories of her time on Earth, including her dormant stasis, is where shit finally clicks. She essentially gets to know how Wall-E felt not only about her, but about love. Even when she couldn’t be there, she sees now that Wall-E cared about her and is able to process what Wall-E processed when he looked at Hello Dolly at one point. Scene also works because getting her directive, or the plant, was generally done and done with, she finally gets time to focus on something else, on her feelings for someone else. This leads well into... the well that leads to...

The Dumpster Moment

The scene with the recordings is where things finally click, but the moment with EVE and Wall-E in the ship’s dump is where it comes together. After getting betrayed yet again by AUTO, EVE’s concerns are now less with the plant and more for Wall-E and thanks to the moment previous, I can totally buy this. It’s teeth gritting seeing her try to rescue a now broken Wall-E from getting ejected into space and losing his energy thanks to a destroyed chip. So when we see her finally toss the plant aside and says Wall-E is her directive now, I tear up. It feels like a genuine, built up declaration on her part; the moment where EVE can rationally return his feelings ten-fold and truly be there for him. But that isn’t all to it, because Wall-E reasonably struggles his way to the plant to show that to save him, they need to get to Earth which means getting the plant back to the core of the ship.

This gives EVE newfound resolve and puts that to the test, where she has to basically defect against AUTO who’s become the physical antagonist of the film. The escape sequence is a bit of a step down since putting humans in danger doesn’t really affect the film’s themes all that well, but I can’t argue that pitting the captain against AUTO is a bad climax. 

The Death to Wall-E

Thinking about this film after so long, it is still pretty fucking shocking to realize how punishing they treat Wall-E in the final act. It’s even more shocking when you realize how the roles have reversed, where Wall-E focuses more on EVE’s goal with the plant instead of EVE herself and vice versa. Then again, I say it’s fair that they did this, to show how much Wall-E was willing to sacrifice for the one he loves which makes the painful wails we hear from EVE feel all the more impactful. Like you’re serious with her as she struggles to accept his death before they reach Earth. And speaking of Earth...

The Finale

Now, I can’t help but argue it’s an unfortunate plothole that EVE is somehow able to fully repair Wall-E in spite of never fixing anything else in the film. Then again, it’s fucking pumping seeing her move quick to put him back together and it’s that final stomp on the heart when, even when he’s fully restored, Wall-E bares no memories of her or anything. You see her desperately try to get him to remember anything only to be met with an emotionless, reset shell. In finally understanding Wall-E’s feelings of love, she can’t really be with him. Until...

True Love’s Kiss Saves the day

I can get scientific with how getting his memories back was possible, but I won’t because the scene just works. It’s quiet, takes it time, and that last eureka moment with the two truly get to hold hands makes up for any scattered logistics. I’d say this is where Wall-E finally gets the love, but the same can be said for EVE, after everything she went through. I’ve admittedly seen a few talk about how the female lead is only valid through the love of another, typically male, but I believe what works 120% here is that the two characters basically have themselves figured out, Wall-E more than EVE, and EVE’s journey is never hindered for a sudden realization to love. She still succeeds in her mission, but the stakes for her have risen once she comes to terms with her newfound feelings and these feelings aren’t out of pocket. Wall-E has his feelings for EVE from the getgo, but dedicates to helping EVE with the goal, even if it means death. The connection they get to have is earned and is what drives the plot. EVE earns what she realizes she wants and that makes her a great female protagonist in my eye.

The Conclusion

Wall-E is a pretty warm movie; a film how the love of two brings humanity to salvation and vice versa. How EVE and Wall-E’s love is synonymous to the intertwining of modern and older technology to shape the world. But honestly, that probably wouldn’t have worked as well without how great they made EVE as a character. Wall-E is great too, but it’s astonishing to see EVE’s journey with Wall-E and show her natural growth of understanding something as warm as romance. Her journey is pretty synonymous to how I feel with the movie overall. The time we get of them on Earth is symbiotic to the time we get in space; we get an intimate journey that expands to a film about society but remains personal and intimate nonetheless. And with EVE, we get this superbly fleshed out character that’s emotive, understanding, and above all gets a resolves that’s awesome to see every time I catch or just think about this film. What else is there to say?

They’re the Best.

[maisondenachtai]

Oscar Darling (2/??)

Paring: Chris Evans x Black Female Reader (but honestly everyone can read it) Previous Chapter

summary: a man will do seriously desperate things to get what he wants. (author’s note: ....I seriously don’t think chris would do this. This is not Chris behavior...but this is fiction...and I love it. Okay read!)

taglist: @chaneajoyyy​

            Like Peter to Jesus in the bible, you denied him three times.

The first time came four days after he messaged you the first time, after you stewed over the fact that Chris Evans was messaging you and that everything in your body told you that you would be committing a crime if you told him no.

The second time came two days after that, and you didn’t feel so horrible about it that time. In fact it was kind of flattering that a man would want to go to dinner with you that bad.

The third time was completely satisfying, not only had you denied him but he had sent with his request a picture of him and his dog with the caption, ‘Dodger would really like it if you had dinner with me.’

You replied, and you felt so badass for it:

I hate to let Dodger down, since he is a good boy, but I must decline. Please tell Dodger that my people will send his people (i.e: you) the best doggie treats for such a good boy.

           It made you feel even better when on Twitter, Chris put up a simple picture of your doggie treat basket with the caption,

Dodger gets more love than I do.

           You were walking on the moon, if you weren’t afraid of looking a fool you would walk down the street like Tobey McGuire in Spiderman 3. Not only had Chasity and the PR team spun your little drunken tirade into relatable gold, but you had gained an endorsement deal with a dating app. You were making bank because you were a drunken mess, and isn’t that everyone’s dream?

You stuck a spoonful of cookies and cream ice cream in your mouth as you strutted around your apartment. Your best friend Diana was watching you with amusement as she absentmindedly thumbed through an Ebony Magazine that you were on the cover of.

“I can’t believe you’re so happy that you denied Chris Evans.” Diana’s eyes followed you as you went over and kissed your Oscar and then flopped out on your couch.

“It’s not that I’m happy about that…but it’s the fact that I could do it Diana.” You said looking up at the ceiling. “Like…I made it. I won an Oscar, I’m turning down dates from hot guys. I have endorsement deals, I’m on the cover-

“Wait.” Diana put the magazine down and stood up crossing from the dining room to your living room. “You said guys…plural. Who else have you turned down?”

You sat up, “Seriously, I said all of that and all you got was the ‘guys’ part?”

“Stop changing the damn subject. Who else?”

You smirked, “Well, I might have gotten a call from Drake.”

“DRAKE?” Diana said mimicking Soulja Boy. “Champagne Papi? 6god? Jimmy in the wheelchair?”

“Yeah all three. He invited me to cheesecake…you know he loves to go there.” You joked and then laughed at your own corniness. “But I said no. I mean, he’s cute and all…but no thanks. I don’t want to be the girl in Hollywood that just dates everybody.”

Diana rolled her eyes, “Plus you like the attention.”

You grinned, “It is nice.” Your phone dinged, and then dinged again. Then there were several dings. Even Diana’s phone started to ding. Your mood dropped. What could it be now? What did you do this time? Was Rose McGowan finally calling you out for your attempted sexual harassment of Chris Evans?

Before you could even grab your phone, Diana was already laughing slightly.

“What?” You looked over at her.

“You might want to check out Facebook. …oh and put some pants on, maybe.” Diana smiled.

“Wait what?” You pulled out your phone and clicked on Facebook where you were tagged in a live story by none other than Chris Evans.

           He, in all his bearded glory, was in a hallway that looked quite familiar and smiling brightly.

“Hey guys, just wanted to let you know some updates about my day. First off, my beard is coming in nicely, thank you for noticing. Also, Dodger is well and loved the treat basket that he got so much that he wanted to thank the girl that sent it to him in person. Isn’t that right Dodger?” Chris kneeled down to get Dodger in the frame and on cue Dodger barked and licked his phone.

The bark echoed loudly, too loudly.

“Oh my fucking god, he’s in my hallway.” You stood up, in just your panties, ice cream on your face and shirt.

“No shit Sherlock.” Diana smirked at you.

“Guys wish Dodger luck, he’s totally nervous about meeting her. He’s been waiting for a long while…like since Oscar weekend.” He smirked in the camera, but you wouldn’t know because you were rushing around your apartment like a mad man trying to look decent for your unexpected guest.

“I mean, I invited this girl out to dinner with me and Dodger of course, three times.”

Thump.

“Motherfucker! Ow!” You cried out as you fell down in a tangled web of pants that were around your ankles. Diana just sat there halfway watching you act like an idiot and halfway watching her phone in amazement at Chris’s boldness.

“She said no. Isn’t that awful? She said no to poor Dodger three times! Who could say no to this face?” He rubbed Dodger’s face which made the dog excited. “So Dodger told me to call her people and see if we could get her address because that basket deserved a thank you in person. …I know it’s kind of creepy guys, but Dodger was desperate.”

“I can believe he’s using his dog for sympathy. And playing down the fact that he used his connections to get my personal info. That is pathetic.” You were sliding Fenty Lip Gloss on your lips in your hallway mirror.

“So pathetic.” Diana said sarcastically.

“I’m gonna kill Chasity.” You fluffed up your hair and then picked up your breath spray and sprayed three times. One for the father, the son and sweet baby Jesus.

“Totally murder her.” Diana was so amused. For someone who had so ruthlessly denied someone else, you sure were doing a lot.

“So, guys I’m gonna go now. We’re almost at her door and she’s not expecting us…I want it to be a surprise.” He whispered comically. “Love you guys! And remember to buy Love and Murder* on DVD/Blu-Ray and Digital.”

The phones went silent for a moment and you waited on bated breath for the knock on the door. When after five minutes it didn’t come, you released a sigh of slightly disappointed relief.

“Maybe he was just bullshitting. There are a lot of these apartments in LA.” Diana said when you looked over at her. “Look at you, you got dressed for-“

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Nothing.” Diana finished jumping up herself.

You took a deep breath and unlocked the door slowly, not wanting to seem like you were over-zealous for his arrival. He was the thirsty one, not you. When you opened the door, he was there in a bomber jacket, looking as gorgeous as he always was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Nice to finally see you, Y/n.”

---------

(a/n: ...I hope you like. Love and Murder is the name of the movie that won you the Oscar. also...Chris’s facebook has not been active since ‘15 or ‘17...so use some imagination. thank you for reading! leave me comments! I love reading them!)

[shannygoatgruff]

Grown & SeXY - Chapter 2

Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr​

For @youbloodymadgenius​​ for your 400 Followers Writing Challenge.  Congrats on your success!

Genre:  Romance/Comedy

Pairing:  Modern Ivar x Mature OC

Warning: Language/mild angst/Sexual content

Rating: M

Summary: A relationship between Generations X & Y will help this XX & XY learn a lot about themselves, each other, and love.  Cougar/cub relationships aren’t always just about a midlife crisis and arm candy.

A/N:  I got the concept for this story from a conversation I was having with @youbloodymadgenius​​.  I hope I do it justice.  This story is for you!

Chapter 2

Biiiiiitch!  Where have you been?  I’ve been IMing you but you been ducking me like I’m the IRS. Shit, I’m surprised we talking now - you mad at me or something?  Did somebody tell you that they heard some shit about you from me?  Because they were fucking lying. I wouldn’t do that. You know I don’t like all that gossip shit and I'm not one to put all people's business out on Front Street, like that.

So, girl, I need to holler at you about something right quick. What the hell is up with the non-disclosure agreement I sent you? Cause I damn sure didn’t get a signed copy back in my mailbox. Now, maybe I’m the slow bitch in the class, but it seems to me that there are a few more people in on our private meeting than just us, like we had previously discussed. 

Now, I’m not saying that you said something, but I know I sure as hell didn’t. So, if I was over here keeping my sexy ass mouth shut  (cause that how a bitch do) and you haven't said shit either, then who the fuck else is talking? You know, I bet it was probably those same bitches that were running around saying that they heard that I was talking shit about you. I tell you, people today ain't about shit. Well, fuck them.

Just so you know, I didn't call you to try to check you or anything. I called to try to catch you up on this grown and sexy shit cause bitch you are hella behind. Okay...I told you about how Marisol was at the club and met this fine ass little young boy at the bar, who turned out to be her high school BFF’s little brother, right? Did I tell you about how Marisol’s son and King Ding-A-Ling hate each other or how they met up at a party at his daddy’s house? Shit bitch, what do you know? I feel like I’m starting this shit all over at the beginning, again! Seriously hooker, keep up because before I can get into this shit, I have to set the scene. 

So, you need all the dirt on Ivar’s family so moving forward you know what the fuck I’m talking about when I just start dropping shit on you like Pearl Harbor.  Believe me, hon-ty when I tell you, these motherfuckers got some Telenovela, Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal type shit with them. 

Alright now, let me start with his parents. You ever see a really attractive man and you figure, his daddy must have been cute when he was younger? Well, that’s Ivar’s daddy, Mr. Ragnar Lothbrok – or as I like to call him, Dick Daddy Yo.  

Now, child, Dick Daddy is fine as a motherfucker. And, I’m not talking regular run-of-the-mill attractive for a man in his late 50s – early 60s, who was probably knocking down everything back in the day, type of fine, either. No Queen - I’m talking, this motherfucker could get it TODAY, immediately, right now, if he asked for it. Shit, bitch, quiet as kept, he wouldn’t even have to ask. All he would have to do is set those baby blue eyes in my direction, and I would hand him the drawers.

So, back in the day, when they still lived in Norway, Dick Daddy married this total dime piece named Lagertha. When I tell you she was a bad bitch, I mean she was a Bad Bitch!  Shit, she still bad to this day thirty-some years later.  She was built, blond and beautiful, plus that bitch could box. I don’t know what kind of thug shit they taught her over there in the old country where they came from, but this broad was like Ronda Rousey out there in those Kattegat streets.  

Anyhoo, when Lagertha and Ragnar got married, she found out that Ragnar had that Super D and she knew she wasn't going to be able to keep all that good dick to herself because he liked to sling it all over town. So she told him to go do his dirt, but he better brings his fine ass home to her every night. Of course, he was all like, cool, he could have a dime piece at home and get cutty on the side…alright, bet!  

Well, honey, next thing you know, he gets hooked up with this fatal attraction type, funny looking broad named, Aslaug. Girl, Aslaug gets dickmatized and follows Ragnar around like a puppy, and the next thing you know he had to figure out how to bring a whole ass side-chick home to his dime piece wife. He must of came back with some shit like, “Baby, you know that girl Aslaug can cook and she’ll do that thing that you don’t like to do…you know cause she a freak…so really, it’s a win-win for us both.”  

So, I figure dude’s dick must have been dipped in platinum, because Lagertha was like, “Whatever, Dick Daddy,” cause the next thing you know all three of them are living together and these two bitches were sister-wives.  

Chile! But, here’s where the shit gets juicy!  Ooh, girl! The whole time Ragnar was out there in them streets, Lagertha’s sexy ass was knocking over his brother, Rollo, and word around the campfire is, one of them kids ain’t really Ragnar’s…biiiiiitttttttch! I can't make this shit up!

So anyway, by the time all those damn babies came all 50/11 of them moved here to that big blue house at the end of Greenwich, you know the one with the big ass fence front and the nice pool? The one that the young people always have all the parties at...yeah, that one well, that’s where they still live.  

Now onto the kids. Honey, Ragnar has five maybe six kids that he’s claiming. I'm sure it's more out there, but I'm telling you about the ones I know about. First, you got the two he has with Lagertha; that’s Bjorn, and Gyda (that’s if don’t think Bjorn is Rollo’s son).  But what the hell, I’ll take “Let’s Pretend That Bjorn Is Ragnar’s Kid” for $200, Alex…  

So, Bjorn is the oldest of all of the kids. And what can I say about BJ?  BJ is fucking…girl, he’s just fucking. He’s fucking any and everything. That man. Jesus jumped up.  He’s about 6’3”, 250lbs, muscular, blond, these piercing blue eyes. This smile…strong jawline. He has these hands, right? These hands that you know could just grip you right up under your ass cheeks and hold you up against a wall, and these arms…gurl, make me want to faint like a white woman! Hmm.  

BJ reminds me of Ragnar. Hell, all those kids remind me of him in some way, but Bjorn oozes sex like Ragnar. I don’t know what it is, but watch your uterus around him. If you stand too close to BJ, your pussy is liable to jump in his back pocket and you won’t even notice that it’s gone.  

BJ has a shit-ton of kids though and has been married like 150 times. I don’t know what it is, but he finds these blonde women, fucks them, marries them, has 20 babies with, and then gets divorced. He’s a shitty husband, but I bet you he’s a fire ass lay. 

Then there’s Gyda, we call her Da-Da. She’s just beautiful. Whew. She got those looks from both of her parents.  It is honestly painful to look at her. She’s the charming side of Ragnar. The side that’ll have you naked and buying her ass a house and a car before the waiter finishes taking your order on the first date.  It’s a good thing she’s a nice person because if she was an evil bitch, there’s no telling what she would be up to. She’s another tall one, with blonde hair and blue eyes. But, she’s built like her mother. This bitch looks like she needs to be holding a fundraiser where she’s wearing clear heels, in a strip club, called Twerking For Jesus or some shit.

Now, if those two gorgeous kids weren’t enough to make everyone else in the world jealous of how good the D and the seed were from Ragnar, he had to go and spread it around some more with that weird bitch, Aslaug. They have four boys; Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. I don’t know how those boys ended up being so fine because Aslaug’s ass is not what I would call attractive. But, they got Ragnar’s genes and miracles never cease to amaze me.  

All, but one, of them can get it any day.    

Let’s start with Ubbe. It’s a long story, I don’t remember the particulars, but he’s known around the way as, Weebae. I can’t remember if it’s because he was small when as a baby, or because he used to cry all the damn time.  But, whatever the case, if you hear a motherfucker asking for Weebae, they talking about Ubbe. Anyway, Wee is Ragnar’s twin. That child looks like Ragnar just spit him out on the street, only I don’t know where in the fuck he got his personality, cause Ragnar ain’t that fucking nice and Aslaug is a fucking cunt.  

Have you ever met somebody that’s so damn nice, that they seem like a bitch ass?  Like they are just softer than a motherfucker? Somebody that constantly lets people run over the top of him all the damn time and you just want to be like, yo you’s a giant whore! Well, that’s Wee. If he wasn’t so damn sexy, I would be like you soft, brah…get your punk ass away from me. But seeing as how fine he is, I’m like…bring your sensitive ass over here and let me make it all better, with your sexy self. Cause, you know, Mama loves the sensitive ones.

Who’s next? Oh, yeah, the next one is Hvitserk. I know it’s a fucked up name, but no one calls him that. They call him Boobie. Why do you ask? Because Boobie loves titties. I swear that boy was trying to get everybody to breastfeed him since he was born. The bigger a woman's boobs, the more Boobie is into her. But he's such a freaking cutie pie! He doesn’t look like Ragnar to me, but he reminds me of him in that way where as long as he can fuck and eat, he doesn’t give a fuck about much else. He’s the type that never has the same job or girlfriend for too long. He just goes with the flow and stays around until he gets bored.  

Now Boobie favors Ragnar but not as much as some of the other kids.  He’s got this cute baby face, with this sandy blonde hair and these pretty green eyes, like Aslaug.  When you see him, you just want to pinch his cheeks on his face and his ass.  And because he seems like such a little lost puppy, you just want to take him home, and take care of him…maybe tie him up to your bed and ride his ass like he’s Budweiser Clysdale in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, too.     

Then there’s Sigurd…oh, Siggy. I call him, Brother Useless. He got all of Aslaug’s genes. It must be hard to look like Sigurd when you are born into that family. To be below average looking when you have extraordinarily attractive siblings, how does one go one with life?  By being a giant dick, that’s how.  Siggy fucking sucks donkey balls. He irks my fucking life. Siggy and I have history, outside of this little tale, and believe me he’s a dick in those stories, too.  

Anyway, he looks just like his mama with facial hair.  It’s really quite unfortunate. He reminds me of one of those Muppets off of the Dark Crystal. When I first found out that he was one of Ragnar’s sons, my first response was, I know you fucking lying! They should have just thrown the whole damn child away. See, Ragnar, that’s what happens when you go slumming with a funny looking chick…you get a funny looking kid with a fucked up personality.  God don't like ugly...

But He redeemed your good name with Lil' Man. Oh, my sweet Ivar.  This boy looks nothing like either of his parents but is the total embodiment of his father. Ivar is sexy. No, let me rephrase that for the bitches in the back...I said, IVAR IS SEXY. Bitch, I don’t know if there is even a word to describe the level of attractiveness this little bastard has. I don’t know if it’s that life-altering smile, or the dark hair and pale blue eyes. Shit, it could be that intense stare he has or those arms…or it could be that chest or maybe it’s that ass that you just want to bite and those lips that make you just want to sit on his face. Whatever it is about him, that boy makes you tingle in the most unladylike of places.  

Now, when Ivar was born, something was wrong with him and he needed an operation. He was fine afterward, but Aslaug’s dramatical ass was acting like he was on his damn death bed and treated him like he was Samuel L. Jackson in Unbreakable. So, naturally, he grew up spoiled as shit. So now, this child don’t know how to do shit. He thinks everybody supposed to hand him everything, just because he’s cute.  

Honey, short of my number and panties, he gonna have to work for everything else like everybody else.  But see, you can’t tell fine, muscular, spoiled ass, motherfuckers, with beautiful eyes, killer smiles, nice hair, and that smell good all the fucking time that they’re not special. Oh, no, because they will try to prove you wrong. At least he finished college and doesn’t have any kids. But if his ass would get a job…Sorry, I’m skipping ahead.  

Okay, so you have the background on the family.  Now check out how this shit went down...

Being in the Lothbrok house brought back a ton of memories for Soli. She had spent a good part of her adolescence there with her best friend, Gyda.  The two of them had countless sleepovers, movie marathons, and of course their love of all the teenage heartthrobs of the 80s and 90s. Teen Bop, Tiger Beat, and 17 Magazines fed their obsessions for Kirk Cameron, Corey Haim, Mark-Paul Gosselaar, and Mario Lopez. I was always a Joey Lawerence girl myself, but that’s neither here nor there.

That was until that one time the two of them got into this huge fight over who was going to marry Justin Timberlake. But then Bjorn told them that he thought Ryan Philippe was the same person and the girls realized that they did look a lot alike. So, Soli took JT and Gyda took Ryan, and they all lived happily ever after.  

As she accepted the glass of champagne from the tray, Soli looked around the hallway leading out to the patio. It was amazing how different the house looked now. Since the remodel nothing was where she had remembered. The living room used to be to the left of the hallway, and there had been a large formal dining room to the right. They also used to have a huge kitchen right behind the dining room and then the family room sat just behind there, with the entrance to the back yard. It was always a good-sized house, but the way it was cut up, with these weird doorways and walls in the most awkward of places, it always felt cramped, especially with so many people living there.  

But this? The open concept floor plan, no walls to obstruct the view...spacious, huge windows, lots of sunlight...it was gorgeous! Lothbrok Designs, LLC did one hell of a job. Everything from the floor plan to the decor was beautiful. Maybe Soli could get them to hook her up discount and do some work around her house.

“Hey there! I thought I saw you,” Gyda smiled walking over to Marisol with her arms out. “Oh Sonni, you look so good! I still can’t get over how you haven’t aged a bit. And girl, that body!”  

Soli spun around in a circle to give her friend the full view. Even she had to admit, the off the shoulder, floral printed, Boho, maxi-dress looked damn good on her. Especially the way the soft pink color played with the beautiful warm tones in her toffee-colored skin. And honey, she was rocking this split that came all the up the front of the dress to the bodice, that would have been showing all of the church's business if it wasn't for that little white chiffon underdress thing. Honey...forty where? She was a banger and she knew it. “Well, you know forty is new twenty. I didn’t get to do my twenties right because I had Mani, but now I'm single and I'm ready to mingle! And you, Diva…”

“Well, thanks. You know...I get it from my Mama." Gyda did a little shimmy and laughed. "Thank you so much for coming. It’s so good to have you back in town. I know my parents are excited to see you again.” She looked around the room and waved at a guest who was walking by, “Everyone was excited that you said you were coming.”  

Everyone? Why did Gyda say it like that? Soli was excited to catch up with the family, too, but damn. Soli knew that little cutie Ivar was going to be there, but that was nothing. A little innocent eye flirting at the bar a couple of weeks ago didn't mean anything. She hadn't seen or thought of that boy since. And she wasn't thinking about him today...well, not that much, anyway.

“Da-Da,” A gorgeous older blond man came up to Gyda and placed a soft kiss on the side of her head, before turning his attention to Soli. “No, you can’t be…Marisol Peña? The young lady I saw as much as my daughter growing up?” Ragnar walked over to Soli and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Soli chuckled and shook her head when she felt his hands linger at her waist a second longer than they should have. “Oh, Mr. Lothbrok,” Soli she patted him lightly on the chest taking a half step back to take in that beautiful smile, “Oh, it’s been too long. You still look good.” She smiled, feeling his hands slowly move down her side to now rest on her hips.

“And you still are as beautiful as ever,” he said leaning in toward her to talk to her. He had always had this strange way articulating certain words and sometimes he would get uncomfortably close when he would talk to people. Gyda used to get embarrassed because her father would get all up on her friends when he spoke to them, but Marisol always thought it was kind of sexy the way he would breathe on her when he talked.  

She felt herself being hypnotized momentarily by all that sexy, but she quickly regained her senses. “Mr. Lothbrok,” she tutted keeping a careful eye on him as he slowly walked around her in a circle with a sly grin on his face, “I see you're still as smooth as ever.” 

It was fluid the way Ragnar brushed his face next to Soli’s ear to whisper in his sexy accent, making the tendrils of hair tickle her neck, “Ragnar.”  

"Ragnar," she giggled. He was still a DILF, even after all these years.

“Ragnar?”  A feminine voice called causing everyone to turn toward a tall strawberry-blonde in flowing green empire dress standing at the patio door, “Come, lunch is ready and we will have cake.” For as tall and thin as she was the dress did nothing for her. A hottie like Lagertha could have pulled it off, but not her. Although, the navy blue and dark green embroidery did accentuate the red in her hair and her green eyes.    

Soli’s eyes widened as she turned to Gyda, devastated. “Is that Aslaug?” she whispered.  As they all began walking through the house toward the backyard she found herself laughing at the expression on Gyda's face. “Bitch, shut up.” Oh, they had so much to catch up on. 

Judging by how good Aslaug looked, she had had some work done. She was still funny looking, but she looked a whole hell of a lot better than she did when Soli knew her.  

Time seemed to fly by for Soli as she sat in backyard eating, laughing, and drinking with her childhood friend. She had forgotten how much she missed Gyda. But being with her and the family, it felt like they never missed a beat.  She even sat at the table reserved for Ragnar's kids and had no problem catching up with each one of them. Oh, the gossip she found out about sitting there.

For example, Weebae was married to BJ's ex-wife, Torvi, who left BJ with four children and is now having a baby with Bae. And you know the crazy thing is all of them are still talking like nothing ever happened? Or how about this, apparently something happened between Siggy and Ivar - no one is talking about what it is yet, but the two of them don't talk. They can be sitting at the same table and won't utter two words to each other. And did you know that none of the brothers knew why Soli and Gyda fell out all those years ago? I know, but that ain’t my place to say, so done tucked that one way down deep in my bra, honey. All I know is I could write a whole other story about this damn family’s shenanigans alone!  

“Man, I wish I could remember that!” Siggy laughed throwing his napkin on his plate.  “I would have loved to see the look on Bae’s face!” He gently nudged his brother’s arm as he continued to make fun of him.  

Ubbe shook his head and lowered his eyes as the stain of blush colored his cheeks, “I can’t believe that was you,” he said to Soli, “I remember running through the house naked, but I never remembered why.”  

Soli smiled around her glass of wine, trying her best to ignore the incredibly attractive younger man sitting next to her. "I remember why. I remember that little birthmark on your ass, too."

Gyda laughed putting the last of her spoonful of cake in her mouth. “Oooh, Beege, do you remember that time we were playing Van Damme and you ended up in the emergency room?” 

Bjorn rolled his eyes and tried to cover his brow with his hand, “Of course I remember!  How could I forget?” He started rubbing his inner thigh at the memory.  He looked around the table at all of his brothers’ faces who were rapted with excitement, smiles already plastered on their faces, dying to hear the story.  “So, I might have been about 13, Da-Da and Soli might have been around 11 or so. Anyway, we used to always watch Daddy's Jean-Claude Van Damme movies. I was obsessed - he was a total bad-ass to me. We had no business watching them because they were rated R and too violent for us to be watching, but we didn't care. And after the movies, we always would play Van Damme and act out our own scenes but do all the karate moves we just saw.”

“But, he always thought he automatically got to be Van Damme because he was a boy, and he always tried to make me the stupid female sidekick. I wanted to be the badass female Van Damme, ya know?" Soli said rolling her eyes.

“Wait, where was Da-Da?”  Ubbe asked.

“I always wanted to be the bad guy,” Gyda shrugged, “What? It was fun.”  

"Yeah, we used to whip her ass, "Soli laughed, “So, this one day BJ and I got in this big argument about who should get to be Van Damme in our reenactment. Of course, he thought he should be because he’s a boy, and I said that I should be because I could do the split. You remember the splits he used to do, right?” She looked around the table and watched everyone nod.

That is, all except one, “No…he’s the guy with that show on HULU now, right?” Ivar asked, turning in his chair so that his outstretch leg brushed Soli’s shin under the table. “He used to do action movies?”

Rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the question, Soli reached into her small clutch bag and pulled out her phone. “I keep forgetting you’re a child. Of course, you don’t know anything about Jean-Claude Van Damme.  When were you born, like 6 months ago?” She quickly found a picture of the Van Damme split online and handed her phone to Ivar. 

“So, in the movie Double Impact, he did the split when he had his legs on these chairs and his pelvis was suspended between them…I knew I could do it. I had been taking gymnastics since I was six. But BJ, thought because he was a boy he was naturally superior.”

“Oh God, Beege…what happened?” Hvitserk asked popping open another beer.

“The chairs moved, man.” Bjorn said sadly, “Daddy had to take me to the hospital.  My nuts twisted; sprained my dick.” He tried to hold back his laugh but listening to how funny his brothers found his childhood misfortune made Bjorn laugh, too. “Never played Van Damme again.”

“And you never bet against me again, that’s for sure.” Soli felt Ivar’s hand brush against the side of hers and when she turned to face him he was handing back her phone. She noticed that when he leaned over toward her that the first two buttons of his classic white button-down shirt were undone, exposing his thick neck, and collarbone to her. Would it be rude if she tried to get a peek down his shirt? She didn't think so. What was rude was him smelling like a clean ocean breeze or wearing that damn white shirt against his tanned skin. 

Ivar put the phone in her open palm and closed his hand around hers. The hint of a smile started with one corner of his mouth and as his tongue darted out of his mouth and started worrying the bottom corner of the lip. 

“So, um…you can do that split, huh?” There it was. That come sit on my face smile. She had to watch out for this little bastard.

“Yep and  I can do it on a handstand,” she whispered back, and winked at him, pursing her lips to keep herself from smiling. God, this kid was so damn cute, but she shouldn't be flirting with him, even if it was who she was by nature. He was too young. It was too wrong. He was too sexy. She hadn’t had sex in a very long time.  This was tricky. She knew the family.  He had muscles. “Close your mouth there, Baby Ivey.” She patted his shoulder feeling the striations under her fingertips. That was another thing, she had to stop touching him!

“Hey Mom,” Soli’s son, Mani walked over to the table she was sitting at wearing a nice pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She had made him promise to drop by for a minute, just to say hi to some of her childhood friends before he went to a party of his own. The things he did for that woman.  

“There’s my Baby Boy!” Soli said, standing up. “Mani, I want you to meet my second family when I was growing up. This was my best friend, Gyda, and her brothers Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar.” She gestured her hand to each person as she said their names. “Everyone, this is my son, Miguel.”  

Ivar smiled and stood up, offering his hand to shake, “I remember you from school. Cartoon Boy, right?”

Mani’s posture stiffened and his warm brown eyes hardened almost instantly, “I don’t remember Jock Strap.” Mani had hated Ivar since they were in high school. Even as a teenager he thought Ivar Raganarsson was a dick. He was an entitled asshole who thought the world owed him something. He had walked around that school like he was the shit and because Mani was younger, smaller and didn’t play sports, Ivar just fucking sucked toward him. He never bullied him, but he always acted like Mani was beneath him.  

Well, fuck Ivar and his big ass beaver teeth smile…got on his fucking nerves. Mani turned his attention to the rest of the table. “It was nice to meet all of you, but I have another engagement. I just stopped by to drop something off to my mom.” 

“Excuse me,” Soli said getting up from the table. She was ready to punch Mani in the throat. She had specifically told him that when he came to the house not to say anything insulting to Ivar. And if she had to listen to one more minute of how much Mani hated Ivar she was going to scream. Since she told him about that first time seeing him at the bar all she had heard was how much of an asshole Ivar had been in high school and how he stole the lead in the school play Mani’s sophomore year. Did she care? Not at all. Mani was 22 years old now and he was still holding a grudge about something that happened when he was 15.  

She walked back into the house with her son following him to the front door. The fake she was forcing was hurting her face. “What the fuck was that, Mani?”

“You see him with that Fuck Boy Ricky hairstyle? I swear Mom, he’s a total Dickbag.” Mani rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “And you're friends with his people? That's a whole new level of douchery, even for you, Mom.”  

“Oh my, God…I’m not. Not right now.” She got on her tiptoes to kiss her son on the cheek. “Have fun tonight. I love you.”

“I’m telling you, watch that fucktard.”

"Get out," Soli pushed her son out of the door and sighed. This was reason number 4,037 why she never dated. Mani hated and had something to say about everyone. Not saying that she wanted to date Ivar or anything, but just saying that Mani had a problem with every male that she was even friendly with. It was hopeless. Her ex-husband was going to be the last man she’d ever have sex with.  Oh, the humanity of it all...

Soli walked back to the family table with a fresh glass of wine and sat back with a smile as she watched the siblings pose for their family photos.  The pictures were going to be gorgeous - they were a beautiful family. There were so many photos being taken, too. There were poses of Ragnar, both his wives, all of his children, and grandchildren. Even the photos of the divisions of the families were beautiful. But the most captivating thing to Soli was that Ivar was the photographer.  

He was so patient and genuinely seemed to be having a good time doing it.  He was a natural. He laughed as he directed his family and smiled a huge, smile with every picture he took. He was engaging and extremely creative. Looking at him, she would have never have guessed he had an artistic side to him. When Soli realized that she had a full-blown smile on her face watching Ivar and not the family she shook her head and grabbed her phone for a distraction. 

Taking a sip of wine, she checked her text messages and almost choked. There as only one missed message and it was from a number that she didn't recognize. He must have called himself on her phone to get her number. 

She couldn't stop the big ass smile from spreading across her face as she read:

‘Splits and handstands?  I💓 gymnastics! ~ Baby Ivey’

So, girl, that’s what happened with that. Don’t worry, we are about to get into the good shit, I promise. I'm telling this story honey and bitch I'm building suspense.  

I'll talk to you later girl. And next time, I ping you, answer your girl. Don’t be screening me like I’m that dude at the club that you trying to get rid of.  

Chapter 1

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[stilesgivesmefeels]

More Buddie Not-Fic Musings

All right so picture it Sicily 1942: Buck’s got a lot of vacation time saved up because part of the lawsuit agreement was that he got all of his vacation and sick-leave time back.  And we know that boy never wants to miss a day!  But some of the time is a use-it-or-lose-it.  And this happens to coincide with Carla’s annual family reunion.  

Eddie is also looking to pick up some extra shifts because he wants to try and scrape together a down payment on a house and his meeting with a bank is coming up and he wants to try and secure a better loan.  He needs to be able to own a place and really make it accessible for Chris as he is growing up.  (Though he will always be Eddie’s little boy!  But he’s 9!  NINE! Eddie tries not to think about it too much or he gets maudlin.)

So Buck having all this time off to take right when Carla is going to be gone for a week AND Eddie is looking to get extra shifts?  Winner!

Chris is completely thrilled to hang out with Buck.  Last year’s tsunami be damned!  They hang out and go to the park and skateboard and watch movies and paint and take cooking lessons at one point?  Basically, it’s a fun show.  

But by mid-week Chris is acting...off.  He’s still thrilled to see Buck everyday but he seems anxious in the evening when it’s close to time for Eddie come home.  Chris misses his dad something fierce and they call him every single shift to say hi.  Buck can’t figure out what is going on with Chris.  Maybe it’s a tsunami anniversary thing coming up?  It’s been on the news a lot.  Buck tries to avoid it, especially when hanging out with Chris, but sometimes it sneaks in on the radio or TV before he can change the channel.

Then one night Eddie has an especially late shift and doesn’t get home before Chris goes to bed.  So they just planned for Buck to spend the night.  NO ANXIETY that night at all!  Chris is super excited that Buck is going to spend the night and seems really excited that Buck will already be there in the morning to make Chris and Eddie breakfast (ah the ever present Buck-makes-pancakes-for-the-Diaz-boys-trope, I LOVE IT).  

But then the next day Eddie has a short shift and will be home before dinner.  Buck was thinking he’d go back to his place and relax.  CHRIS ABSOLUTELY PANICS.  He’s holding onto Eddie and has his face hid in his dad’s shoulder just bereft , BEREFT I SAY!, with tears.  Near inconsolable that Buck is leaving.

Well in between the near screaming tears and snot on Eddie’s t-shirt, Chris does manage to get his anxiety out in the open.

Turns out he was completely panicked that this was going to be like last year when Buck was watching him and Carla was gone.  Because when that week was up?  Buck went back to work as a Fire Marshall and then the lawsuit.  But all Chris remembers is that Buck went away and he couldn’t talk to him anymore or see him.  And that made him sad.  And his dad was really sad last year, too.

And now his dad is working all the time and his time with Buck is about to be up!  CHRIS JUST WANTS HIS FAMILY TO BE TOGETHER OKAY???

So now Buck feels awful and Eddie feels awful and Chris has been feeling awful.  Ugh.  It’s a snotty, teary, hug-filled disaster zone up in this Diaz living room.

But eventually Buck and Eddie calm Christopher down.  They explain, as best the can, that last year and the lawsuit were unusual situations.  And Buck promises that he is NEVER leaving Chris and Eddie again.  Eddie promises that he is never letting Buck get away.

So now Eddie and Buck are giving each other total heart eyes while they basically take vows as a family.

After they get Christopher to bed (but only after promises that Buck is going to spend the night because while Chris may believe that he isn’t going anyway that doesn’t mean he is ready to let Buck go home just yet), then Buck and Eddie sit together on the couch and really talk things out.

Eddie shares his financial worries.  Buck shares more of his fear about being alone.

Maybe it’s the emotional night (or it could be the third beer) but at one point Eddie looks at Buck.  Just looks at his best friend.  This good man that loves his son.  And his son loves Buck.  And OH SHIT.  Eddie loves Buck!  

Just in that moment Buck (who has known he was in love with Eddie for a long-ass time) tells Eddie that they should buy a house together.  Buck is willing to pine for a motherfucking lifetime if that means he gets Eddie and Chris in his life forever.

Eddie stares at him in shock and then has to just lean over and kiss Buck.

Woo!  Smooch time.

And then the look at houses together and buy a house together and eventually go on a date.  But the order of things isn’t important to them.  Because they both know that they are in this together for the long haul.

[angelsandacceptance]

Heaven and Hell

“Excuse me?” Chase demands, breaking through the silence. 

“You want Anna? Why?” Sam asks. 

“Out of the way,” Uriel commands, taking a step forward. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, I know she's wiretapping your angel chats or whatever, but it's no reason to gank her.”

“Don’t worry,” Uriel smiles cruelly. “I’ll kill her gently.”

“Like hell you will!” Chase says. 

“You’re some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?” Dean asks. 

“As a matter of fact, we are. And?” Cas says.

Chase frowns at him, brows creasing in disappointment. “What?” She whispers softly.

“And? Anna's an innocent girl,” Sam states. 

“She is far from innocent,” Cas says.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she's worse than this abomination you've been screwing. Now give us the girl.”

“Uriel, you absolute motherfucker, I am so close to-”

“Chase, enough!” Castiel says. Chase doesn’t respond, just choosing to glare at him. Cas shifts uncomfortably and looks away.

“Give her to us,” Uriel repeats.

“Sorry. Get yourself another one. Try JDate,” Dean says.

“What’s JDate?” Harley asks.

“A Jewish dating site,” Dean responds. 

“Huh,” Harley hums, before turning serious again. 

“Who's gonna stop us? You three?” Uriel questions. “How about the halfbreed? Or this demon whore?”

Uriel throws Ruby against the wall, punctuating his statement. Dean, alongside Harley, goes to attack him as Cas approaches Sam and Chase. 

“Cas, please,” Chase says. Cas places three fingers on Sam’s forehead, making him collapse to the floor. 

Just as Cas is about to touch Chase’s forehead, her hair falling into her face, as she stands shaking her head, a bright white light fills the room. 

The three conscious hunters and Ruby squint their eyes, before slowly opening them to see Uriel and Cas gone. 

Chase helps Sam to his feet, and they all hear Dean in the backroom. 

“Anna! Anna!” he shouts. 

They all rush to the door of the backroom to see Anna, arms bloodied, with a drawn symbol on the mirror behind her. She looks at them with wide eyes, pale face displaying fear. 

“Are they- are they gone?”

“Did you kill them?” Chase asks, fear evident in her voice.

“No, I sent them away. Far away.”

Chase sighs in relief. 

“You want to tell us how?” Harley asks, intrigued. She sends a smirk to Chase, who shakes her head, mouthing, ‘Not now’. 

Anna gestures to the symbol. “That just popped in my head. I don’t know how I did it. I just...did it.”

Harley snaps a picture of the symbol on her phone so they can memorise it later.

***

The  four hunters stand away from Ruby and Anna discussing what to do next. 

“So, what do we think?” Dean asks.

“I think Anna's getting more interesting by the second,” Sam says.

“Yeah, I agree. And what did they mean by ‘she's not innocent’?”

“What was that spell too? I mean that’s some serious shit,” Harley says.

“Something's going on with her. See what you can find out,” Dean says.

“What’re you gonna do?” Chase asks.

“Anna may have sent the angels to the outfield, but, sooner or later, they're gonna be back. We got to get ourselves safe now.”

“Bobby’s,” Harley and Chase chorus.

“And Ruby’s riding with us.” Harley says sternly.

***

Chase, Harley, Dean, and Anna sit in Bobby’s panic room with Ruby standing in the doorway.

“Iron walls drenched in salt. Demons can't even touch the joint.” Dean says.

“Which I find racist, by the way.” Ruby mentions.

“Write your congressman.”

“Pretty sure you mean speciesist.”

“Harley,” Chase starts. “You totally just made that up.”

“I didn’t! It is a word.”

“If you insist.”

“It is! Look it up.”

“Sure.”

“I give up.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, throwing them all hex bags.

“Hex bags?” Dean questions.

“Extra-crunchy. They'll hide us from angels, demons, all comers,” Ruby replies.

“Thanks, Ruby,” Dean says quietly before turning to Anna, “Don't lose that. So, Anna, what's playing on angel radio? Anything useful?” 

“It's quiet. Dead silence,” Anna answers.

“That’s totally not worrying at all,” Harley says sarcastically.

“I don’t even know what the word worry means,” Chase adds.

“We're in trouble, huh? You guys are scared?” Anna asks.

“Psht, scared?” Chase comments.

“What’s scared?” Harley asks.

“Hey, guys!” They heard Sam yell from the other room.

“Just stay here, okay?” Dean says to Anna before addressing Ruby, “Keep an eye on her.”

***

“How’s the car?” Dean asks Sam. 

“I got her. She’s fine. Where’s Bobby?”

“Uh, Dominican,” Chase answers. “He said if we break anything, we buy it.”

“He’s working a job?” Sam assumes. 

“God, I sure hope so,” Dean says. “Otherwise, he's at hedonism in a banana hammock and a trucker cap.”

“And now that’s seared into my  brain,” Harley sighs. 

“All right. What did you find about Anna?” Chase asks.

Sam shrugs. “Nothing much. Her parents were, uh, Rich and Amy Milton -- a church deacon and a housewife.”

“Riveting,” Dean interrupts. 

Chase silences him with a look. 

“Yeah. But there is something here in the report. Turns out this latest psych episode wasn't her first.”

Chase tilts her head. “It’s not?”

“When she was 2 1/2, she'd get hysterical any time her dad got close. She was convinced that he wasn't her real daddy.”

“Who was?” Dean asks. “The plumber, hmm? A little snaking the pipes?”

“Dude, you’re confusing reality with porn again,” Sam says. Both Harley and Chase have to stifle laughter. Sam continues, “Look, Anna didn't say. She just kept repeating that this real father of hers was mad. Very mad -- like wanted-to-kill-her mad.”

“That’s a little heavy for a two year old,” Harley says.

“Well, she saw a kid's shrink, got better, and grew up normal.”

“Until now,” Harley adds.

“So what’s she hiding?” Dean asks.

“Why don’t you just ask me to my face?” Anna asks from behind the group. They all jump and turn to see Anna appearing from a doorway, Ruby watching from behind her in amusement. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching her?” Chase asks.

“I am watching her.”

“Touche.”

“Anna’s right. Is there anything you want to tell us?” Sam asks Anna. 

Anna shakes her head. “About what?”

“The angels said you were guilty of something. Why would they say that?”

“You tell me,” Anna demands. “You tell me why my life has been leveled,” she pauses, emotion bubbling up in her voice. She forces it down. “Why my parents are dead. I don’t know. I swear, I would give anything to know.”

“Okay, so let’s find out,” Chase says, a thoughtful, serious look on her face.

“How?” Dean and Harley chorus, glancing at Chase.

Chase smiles at them knowingly.

***

“We’re here,” Chase announces, entering the room. A familiar figure walks in after her. Chase goes to stand behind Sam and Dean, closest to Harley.

“Pamela!” Sam says in surprise.

“Sam?” Pamela asks, feigning confusion.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Sam?” Pamela asks once more, a hand out, moving forward tentatively. “Is that you?”

“I’m right here.”

Sam approaches Pamela and goes to give her a hug. “Oh,” she says. “You wanna know how I knew it was you?” Sam pulls back from the hug, slightly confused. Pamela grabs a handful of his ass, causing him to jump slightly. “That perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a nickel off that thing.” 

“Of course I know it's you, grumpy. I know the other three Winchesters are behind you. Same way I know that's a demon, and that poor girl's Anna and that you've been eyeing my rack.”

“I’m not a Winchester,” Harley says.

“Yet,” coughs Chase from beside her. Harley seems to be the only one to hear, leading her to nudge Chase in the ribcage; hard.

Pamela shrugs. “You might as well be.”

“Uh, uh,” Sam stutters, looking up and away from Pamela’s chest, a pink tinge on his cheeks from embarrassment. 

“Don't sweat it, kiddo. I still got more senses than most.”

“Got it,” Sam nods. 

“Hey, Anna. How are you? I'm Pamela.”

Anna looks at the others, confused, before looking back at Pamela. “Hi.”

“Chase told me what's been going on. I'm excited to help,” Pamela says with a smile. 

“Oh, that’s nice of you.”

“Not really. Any chance I can dick over an angel, I’m taking it.”

“Why?” Anna asks hesitantly. 

“They stole something from me,” Pamela responds eerily. She takes off her sunglasses, revealing white eyes. Pamela smiles as though sensing Anna’s sudden shock of fear. “Demon-y, I know. But they're just plastic. Good for business. Makes me look extra-psychic, don't you think?  Now...how about you tell me what your deal is? Hmm? Don't you worry.”

Pamela begins to explain the process of what she’ll be doing to Anna to her and the group. “Nice and relaxed. Now, I'm going to count down from five to zero. When we're at zero, you'll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just go deeper and deeper, okay? 5... 4... 3... 2... 1. Deep sleep. Deep sleep. Every muscle calm and relaxed. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” Anna responds calmly. Her eyes are shut and she seems more at peace than she has since the Winchesters, plus Harley and Ruby, had found her. 

“Now, Anna, tell me... How can you hear the angels? How did you work that spell?”

“I don't know. I just did.”

“Your father... What's his name?”

“Rich Milton.”

“All right. But I want you to look further back... When you were very young... Just a couple of years old.”

“I don't want to.”

“It'll be okay. Anna, just one look - that's all we need.”

“No.”

“What's your dad's name? Your real dad. Why is he angry at you?”

“No. No! No,” Anna screams, “No!”

“Calm down.”

Anna screams again, “He's gonna kill me!”

“Anna, you're safe.”

“No!” She screams. The lights burst and glass explodes everywhere.

“Calm down.”

Again she screamed, “He’s gonna kill me!”

“It's all right, Anna.”

“Anna?” Dean calls out, walking toward her.

“Dean, don’t.” Pamela says just before he gets thrown across the room. “Wake in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Anna... Anna? You all right?”

“Thank you, Pamela. That helps a lot. I remember now.” Anna’s entire demeanor has changed. While before, she seemed timid, confused, and shy, yet sweet as honey and fiery too, she now is stoic. Her face stays blank as she peers at Pamela, no emotion on her face or in her eyes. Her voice doesn’t waver.

“Remember what?” Chase asks.

“Who I am.” 

Chase raises a brow. “Well, ain’t that vague.”

“And you are?” Harley prods.

“I’m an angel. Don't be afraid, I'm not like the others.” Anna says, trying to reassure the hunters, psychic, and demon. It must be extremely easy to sense that many people immediately going on guard, a couple of hands reaching for weapons just in case.

“I don't find that very reassuring,” Ruby discloses.

“Neither do I,” Pamela agrees.

“So...Castiel, Uriel - they're the ones that came for me?” Anna asks.

“You know them?” Sam inquires.

“We were kind of in the same foxhole,” Anna says mildly.

“So, what? They were like your bosses or something?” Chase asks. 

“Try the other way around.”

“Look at you,” Dean says combatively. 

“So now they want to kill you?” Harley asks, hoping for some clarification. 

“Orders are orders. I'm sure I have a death sentence on my head,” Anna responds smoothly, as though the thought was equal to saying she was sure the sky was blue.

“Why?” Pamela asks, suspicious. 

“I disobeyed... which, for us, is about the worst thing you can do. I fell.”

“Meaning?” Dean asks. 

“She fell to earth, became human,” Chase says. 

“Wait a minute. I don't understand. So, angels can just become human?” Sam asks.

“It kind of hurts. Try cutting your kidney out with a butter knife. That kind of hurt. I ripped out my grace.”

“Come again?” Dean asks.

“My grace. It's... energy. Hacked it out and fell. My mother, Amy, couldn't get pregnant. Always called me her little miracle. She had no idea how right she was.”

“So, you just forgot that you were God's little Power Ranger?” Dean asks jokingly.

“The older I got, the longer I was human, yeah.”

“I don't think you all appreciate how completely screwed we are,” Ruby chimes in.

Anna nods to her. “Ruby’s right. Heaven wants me dead.”

“And Hell just wants her. A flesh-and-blood angel that you can question, torture, that bleeds. Sister, you're the Stanley Cup. And sooner or later, Heaven or Hell, they're gonna find you.”

“I know,” Anna responds. “That’s why I’m going to get it back.”

“Get what back?”

“My grace.”

“You can do that?” Dean asks. 

“If I can find it.”

“So, what, you're just gonna take some divine bong hit, and, shazam, you're Roma Downey?” Dean asks. 

“Something like that,” Anna responds, meeting Dean’s eyes. She doesn’t seem amused by all his jokes and side comments. 

“Where might it be?” Chase asks. “If we can get it back, that’s the best option we got.”

“Lost track. I was falling about 10,000 miles per hour at the time.”

“Wait, you mean falling literally,” Harley realizes. “Lovely.”

“Like the way a human eye can see? Like a comet, maybe, or a meteor?” Sam asks suddenly. 

“Why do you ask?” Anna asks.

***

Harley, Chase, Sam and Ruby find themselves to be surrounded by old books and magazines. Dean just left to drop Pamela off at home, while Anna is doing who knows what. She’d claimed she wanted alone time, so they let her be. 

Sam’s flipping through the pages of one, before he finally lands on one. “Here. In march '85, a meteorite vanished in the night sky over northwestern Ohio. It was sighted nine months before Anna was born, and she was born in that part of Ohio.”

Ruby looks Sam up and down, “You're pretty buff for a nerd.” Chase rolls her eyes at Ruby’s comment.

“Look, I think it was Anna and here, same time - another meteor over Kentucky.” Sam says ignoring Ruby.

“And that’s her grace?”

“Might be.”

“All right. That just narrows it down to an entire state.”

“At least it narrows it down,” Chase sighs.

Ruby rolls her eyes, “Sam...I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sam asks.

“For bringing you this mess. If I had known, I would have kept my trap shut.”

“Yeah, well, we'll muddle through.”

“Not this time. You do not want to get between these two armies. It's Godzilla and Mothra. If one side doesn't get us, the other one will.”

“So, what do you want to do? Dump Anna and run? Forget it. Look, I know the angels freak you out.”

“Forget the angels. It's Alastair I'm scared of.”

“Then vamoose your caboose and let us handle it,” Harley points out, earning an eye roll to match her best friend’s.

“Alastair?” Sam questions.

“You met him in the church. Practically the grand inquisitor downstairs. Picasso with a razor,” Ruby answers.

“And?” Harley asks.

“And he should pull him out and throw him back in the pit... if he weren't so out of shape.”

“Ruby…” Sam says, it’s almost a plea.

“No, your abilities - you're getting flabby.”

“Yeah, so how do I tone up?”

“You know how. You know what you got to do.”

“No, I'm not doing that anymore.”

“Sam…”

“I said no.”

“Well, then you better pray that Anna gets her groove back, or we're all dead.”

***

Sam leads Dean and Anna to the table Harley and Chase occupy. Sam is pointing at a newspaper article from several years before. 

“Union, Kentucky. Found some accounts of a local miracle.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, interested.

“What kind of miracle?” Chase asks. 

“I’m assuming the miracle kind,” Harley notes.

“Yeah. In '85, there was an empty field outside of town. Six months later, there was a full-grown oak. They say it looks a century old at least,” Sam says, animatedly explaining what he’d read.

“Anna, what do you think?” Dean asks, turning to the red haired girl.

“The grace. Where it hit, it could have done something like that, easy.”

“So grace ground zero -- it's not destruction. It's…” Dean trails off.

“Pure creation,” Anna confirms. 

***

“So,” Chase breaks the silence as they drive along the dark road. “How long do you think before Ruby says something she isn’t supposed to?”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Harley sighs.

“What would be worse though?  Dean finding out you have a crush on him or me having a crush on Cas?” Chase blanks, freezing. 

“Oh my God,” Harley says.

“No-no that isn’t what I meant and you know it! Shut up, shut up right now!”

“I can’t believe you just admitted it!”

“No, that isn’t what I meant. I meant it like, it would be bad if Dean thinks I have a crush on him and like “finds out” I do,” Chase tries to defend, putting air quotes around the words ‘finds out’. “Not that I actually have a crush on Cas, because I don’t. You know?”

“Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t!”

Harley simply hums as they continue behind the Impala, the darkness around them growing thicker as they head to Kentucky, a short twelve hour drive. 

***

“It’s beautiful,” Dean and Chase chorus, staring at the wondrous oak tree, gigantic in size.

“It’s where the grace touched down. I can feel it,” Anna says. 

Chase shivers, immediately knowing what Anna’s referring to. The power resonating from the area is dull, probably from how many years it lay dormant, but still there nonetheless. It felt surreal. 

“You ready to do this?” Harley asks.

Anna smiles slightly, shaking her head. “Not really.”

They all approach the tree, looking around for a sign of what and where the grace might be. 

“What are we looking for?” Sam says after a few moments. 

Anna, placing a hand on the tree, frowns. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?” Chase asks, mimicking Anna, as though she could tell what was going through her head. 

Anna makes eye contact with them, slowly sweeping her gaze from one to the other, before landing on Chase, whose question still lays unanswered in the still air. “Because it’s no longer here.”

***

“We still got the hex bags. I say we head back to the panic room,” Dean says hurriedly.

“What, forever?” Ruby demands. 

“I’m just thinking out loud here!”

“Oh, you call that thinking?”

“Ruby, can it!” Chase snaps. 

“Oh, whatever you say, angel-lover.”

“At least I know to stay away from trash!”

“Chase, cool it,” Harley says, not bothering to hide the smile on her face.

“No! No, go on! Got anything else to say?” Ruby asks, approaching Chase. Sam grabs Ruby by the arm as Dean puts himself in front of Chase. Harley just watches in amusement. 

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey. Stop it,” Sam says.

“Anna's grace is gone. You understand? She can't angel up. She can't protect us. We can't fight Heaven and Hell. One side maybe, but not both. Not at once. And your favorite angel is fighting against us as much as everyone else is, so get over it.”

“Um, guys?” Anna interrupts softly. “The angels are talking again.”

“What are they saying?” Sam asks.

“It's weird... Like a recording... a loop. It says, "Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or..."

“Or what?” Dean demands.

Anna looks up, discomfort plainly displaying itself. “Or we hurl him back into damnation.”

“Who is it?” Chase asks suddenly.

“What?” Anna asks, tilting her head. 

“Who is it? Saying that. Who the hell is threatening my family?”

Anna stays silent for a moment. “Chase,” she begins.

“Tell me.”

“It’s Castiel’s voice.”

Chase takes a step back, betrayal, then anger crossing over her features. “I am going to kill that feathery, flighty, stupid, son of a bitch.” Her voice is slow and controlled - Murderous. Harley puts a comforting hand on Chase’s shoulder, but Chase shrugs her off. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. We knew they would stoop low to get Anna back.”

Sam’s eyes light up. “Chase, you’re brilliant!”

“I am. What’s your point?”

“Anna.. Do you know of any weapon that works on an angel? To what? To kill them?”

Anna sighs. “Nothing we could get to. Not right now.”

“Okay, wait, wait. I say we call Bobby. We get him back from hedonism.”

“Dean, what's he gonna tell us that we don't already know?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know,” Dean cries out. “But we’ve got to think of something!”

***

“Don't talk like that,” Dean says softly. Chase slows her footsteps. She’d been following Anna out to ask if she was okay, but “accidentally” overheard part of their conversation. She on purpose stays to hear the rest.

“I disobeyed. Lucifer disobeyed. It's our murder one, and I knew it. Maybe I got to pay.”

“Yeah, well, we've all done things we got to pay for.”

“I got to tell you something. You're not gonna like it,” Anna says. 

A pause ensues. Chase curses herself for being short, because now she is awkwardly hiding behind a car, and now can’t see what is happening. “Okay,” Dean says slowly. “What?”

“About a week ago, I heard the angels talking... About you... What you did in Hell. Dean, I know. It wasn't your fault. You should forgive yourself.”

Chase frowns. ‘Excuse me?’ 

“Anna, I don't w-want to, uh... I don't want to... I can't talk about that.” Dean’s voice is flighty, causing Chase to frown deeper. 

“I know. But when you can, you have people that want to help. You are not alone. That's all I'm trying to say.”

Another pause, longer than the previous one interrupts their conversation. “What was that for?” Dean finally asks. 

‘Did Anna just kiss Dean?!’

“You know. Our last night on earth. All of that.”

“You’re stealing my best line,” Dean says jokingly. “But…”

“But?”

A short pause. Again, Chase curses her inconvenient hiding spot. 

“Ah,” Anna continues. “I see.”

‘See what?’ Chase asks herself. ‘I can’t see anything!’

“Yeah,” Dean says awkwardly. “But not how you think.”

“You can’t keep running from everything, Dean.”

“I can sure as Hell try,” Dean says. He’s obviously intending for it to come across as a joke, but Chase can hear the underlying seriousness. 

“She’s lucky.”

‘She?’

Dean laughs. “Not likely.”

“Give yourself more credit than that. I’m sure you’re not as alone in your intentions as you believe.”

‘Intentions? Like what? Who the hell are they talking about?’

“She could never feel the same.”

‘OH MY GOD,’ Chase thinks to herself, trying to keep from squealing. A hand is clapped over her mouth tightly, as she frantically puts the pieces together. ‘They’re talking about Harley!!! I fucking knew it!’

“Don’t be so sure,” Anna says knowingly.

“We should get inside,” Dean says. “It’s a bit cold out here.”

Chase balks, before rushing up towards the house again. 

“Did you hear something?” Anna asks. 

Dean’s voice fades to nothing as Chase closes the door. “Probably just an animal.”

Chase grins widely to herself, before rushing off to relay the events to Harley. 

***

“I don't know, man. Where's Ruby?” Sam asks. Chase and Harley shrug. 

“Hey, she's your Hell buddy,” Dean says, taking a long drink from his flask. 

“Little early for that, isn't it?” Anna asks him. Dean gives her a lopsided smile. 

“It’s 2 a.m. somewhere.”

“You okay?” Anna asks, eyebrows furrowing together. 

“Yeah, of course.”

The doors rattle, distracting everyone, before they burst open. Castiel and Uriel enter. Chase subconsciously steps in front of Dean, glaring harshly at Castiel. 

“Hello, Anna. It's good to see you,” Castiel says, inclining his head towards her. 

“Bullshit,” Chase says, “Why are you here?”

Castiel glances at Chase with confusion in his eyes, before ignoring her, which just seems to rub salt into an unknown wound. 

“How? How did you find us?” Cas and Uriel glance at Dean. Sam and everyone else looks to him in shock. “Dean?”

“I'm sorry,” Dean says to Anna. 

“Why?” Harley asks.

“Because they gave him a choice. They either kill me... or kill all of you. I know how their minds work.”

Anna gives Dean a tight hug, pecking him on the cheek. “You did the best you could. I forgive you. Okay. No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready.”

Harley stiffens at Anna’s actions, but Chase just sends her a knowing smile, which confuses her enough to distract her. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says.

“No, you’re really not,” Anna replies. “You don’t know the feeling.”

“Still, we have a history. It’s just-”

“I get it. Orders are orders.” Anna sighs. “I know. Just make it quick.”

Suddenly, the barn gets colder. Alastair, Ruby, and another demon appear in the barn. Ruby is covered in blood, causing everyone to look at her in shock, some looking at her with concern.

“How dare you come in this room... you pussing sore?” Uriel asks, spitting the words to Alastair. 

“That is literally the first fucking thing that you’ve said that I don’t find absolutely vile. Good job. Progress,” Chase says. 

“Shut up, you repulsive-”

“Aaand, you’re back to square one,” Chase tsks. 

“Turn around and walk away now,” Castiel says to Alastair and his demon cronies.

“Think I’ll take my chances,” Alastair replies.

The angels and demons begin fighting, Castiel trying to exorcise Alastair. Harley wondered why he wasn’t trying to smite him. 

“Sorry, kiddo. Why don't you go run to daddy?” Alastair taunts as one of his cronies collapses because Uriel exorcises him. “Potestas inferna, me confirma. Potestas inferna, me confirma. Potestas inferna, me confirma!” 

Dean hits Alastair on the back of the head with a crowbar. 

Alastair turns to Dean, “Dean, Dean, Dean... I am so disappointed. You had such promise.” He goes to attack the four hunters.

While Uriel was dealing with the other cronie Anna steals his necklace and smashes it on the ground. A glowing white light escapes and flows into Anna’s mouth.

“Shut your eyes. Shut your eyes! Shut your eyes!” Anna yells. The Winchesters and Co. do as she says, opening them after a flash of light dissipates. Alastair was gone leaving the knife. Anna poofed away, finally having gotten her grace back.

“Well, what are you guys waiting for? Go get Anna. Unless, of course, you're scared,” Dean taunts.

“This isn't over,” Uriel says almost threateningly.

“Oh, is it? Because you don’t seem to have any more moves to make,” Harley points out.

“Silence halfbreed.”

“Don’t call her that, you dick!” defends Dean.

“And why not? It’s what the abomination is.”

“She’s not an abomination. She’s my best friend.”

“It’s fine, Dean. I don’t give a shit about his opinion anyway,” Harley says, “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

Castiel and Uriel poof off to God knows where.

“But you are,” Dean says softly. 

Chase and Sam seeing a potential moment make themselves scarce and head to the other side of the barn.

“I am what?” Harley asks, confusion evident in her voice.

“Worth it,” Dean says, “I know you don’t think you are, but-”

“Excuse you? I’m amazingly fabulous.”

“Don’t give me that crap. I know you. Maybe not as well as Chase, but I know you.”

“I’m not giving you crap.”

“Harley for someone who wanted to act, you're a terrible liar. I know all your bravado is bullshit. We all do.”

“So what?”

“So I want you to know you’re worth it.”

“I’m not though Dean. I’m just another monster.” 

Dean begins walking toward her stopping when they’re inches away. He pulls her into a hug, and she gladly accepts.

“You’re not a monster.” Dean softly says into her ear.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I...you try to do the right thing, even if you don’t know what it is.”

“Can we just stay here for a while?”

“We can do anything you want sweetheart,” Dean says with a suggestive undertone. 

Harley laughs it off thinking it’s just Dean being his flirty self. They just stand there in each other’s arms for what feels like forever and no time at all.

***

“What took you so long to get here?” Deans asks Ruby upon entering the room where she had been talking with Sam and Chase. She rolls her eyes at him. 

“Sorry I'm late with the demon delivery. I was only being tortured,” she replies sarcastically. 

“I got to hand it to you, Sammy. Bringing them all together all at once -- angels and demons. It was a damn good plan.”

“Yeah, well, when you got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass, best to get out of their way and let them fight.”

“Now you’re just bragging,” Chase says.

“What’s wrong with bragging?” Harley asks jokingly. “You do it all the time.”

Chase shrugs. “I’m not bragging. At that point, I’m simply stating facts.”

“That is bragging. You are literally bragging right now,” Sam laughs. 

Chase waves him off. “I’m just glad Anna’s okay.”

“So, I guess she's some big-time angel now, huh? She must be happy... Wherever she is,” Sam says. 

“I doubt it,” Dean adds. 

They all frown at his words, letting them sink in. 

***

Chase all but squeals as she starts the car. Harley shoots her an odd look, but Chase just smiles widely at her. “Oh my God, I have so much to tell you!”

“Okay? What do you have to tell me?” Harley asks, paranoid.

“Dean likes you!”

“Not this again. Every time we’re in the car.”

“Oh, hush!” Chase frowns. “That’s only cause I can’t say this in front of other people. I mean I can. I just thought you’d appreciate me being a bit more discreet about it. Anyhoo, I overheard Anna and Dean talking about it.”

“Did he actually say he likes me?”

“Well, no, but-” “So you have no proof. That what you’re telling me?”

“Wellll.” Chase sighs. “Okay, so here’s what happened. I was hiding because I overheard Anna and Dean talking and they were talking about Dean’s time in Hell. All very vague, and I’m not sure what it was about. Then Anna kisses Dean-”

“So?” Harley asks curtly. 

Chase rolls her eyes. “‘So?’” she says mockingly. “Soooo. Dean is all ‘what was that for’ and Anna is all ‘last night on earth’ and Dean’s all ‘you’re stealing my best line but-’ and then Anna is like ‘But?’ and there’s this pause. I’m pretty sure Dean looked over at where we were, because Anna just goes ‘oh, I see’ and then is like ‘she’s lucky’ after telling him he can’t run from everything.” 

“Did you actually see where he was looking?”

“Well, no, but- Don’t interrupt me, I’m not finished!” Chase huffs. “Anyway, as I was saying. Dean says he can certainly try and then Anna tells him that his intentions are not one sided, meaning there are intentions there and that she has noticed it being reciprocated, which mean she had to have been talking about you and Dean, and you like Dean, which means he likes you! Get it?”

“So you’re crazy. I don’t even know if I like him yet. I mean I think I might, but I’m not really sure. Besides I thought Dean was all in love with Cassie?”

“That was a fling and was years ago. Why would you think of her of all people?”

“I don’t know maybe because that’s the longest relationship Dean’s ever had?”

“Okay, fair, but like, again. Years ago. And this is something Anna has evidence of and she has no clue who Cassie is so,” Chase says in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.

“She could’ve just picked up on him liking someone and was trying to be nice.”

“Anna. Right. She was just trying to be nice. That makes complete sense,” Chase says in a heavily sarcastic tone. “You’re just being stubborn!”

“I’m always stubborn, besides she was trying to get in his pants right before that.”

“See, that’s true! Which means she simply didn’t know that Dean reciprocated feelings, but she did say she previously saw evidence of them being reciprocated. Ruby hates him, and I’m his sister so that’s an obvious “ew”, so you’re the only one left, and let’s not fool anyone here. Our argument earlier did not go unnoticed by our surrounding companions. She totally knows you got the hots for my brother.”

“I do not have the hots for him! I said I might like him that’s all. Anyway I’m not the kind of person that gets to fall in love.”

“That’s bullshit,” Chase deadpans, suddenly deadly serious. “You’re an amazing, wonderful, kind, loving, hilarious, beautiful person and I’ll be damned before I see you never get a happy ending simply because you believe it when certain dickheads tell you you don’t deserve one. Even if that dickhead is yourself.”

“Okay, that’s very sweet, but I just don’t want to risk falling in love and outliving that person by some vampire superpower.”

“Ummmm. Okay, I don’t have anything to combat that other than, we’re all gonna die one day. I can fall in love with a very humany human person and they could die the next day easily. Just because it will eventually end, you ending up immortal or not, doesn’t mean it isn’t worth the time you do have. Don’t let your fear of losing Dean- or anyone, don’t look at me like that- keep you from pursuing something that’ll make you happy now. All I’m saying.”

***

Jack and Baby are parked side by side along the mostly deserted highway, a lookoff point behind them, showcasing scenery that would leave most breathless. However, the four hunters and friends who sit on the hoods of their respective cars don’t look much at scenery. Two hold beers, the boys of the group, while the girls hold water bottles, making faces at Sam and Dean to tease them. Chase and Harley clink their water bottles, mocking Sam and Dean, who’d clinked their beer bottles. 

“I can’t believe we made it out of there,” Chase sighs. 

“Again,” Sam adds. 

Dean and Harley laugh slightly, but note the seriousness of the situation. 

“I know you guys heard him,” Dean says. 

The other three cast cautious glances at each other before looking to Dean. “Heard who?” Sam asks, feigning ignorance in case Dean would rather shove the topic back under the rug.

“Alastair. What he said about me. About how I have promise.”

“We heard him,” Chase confirms. 

“You’re not curious?” Dean asks in surprise. 

“Dean, all of us are damn curious, but we’re not gonna pry.”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about Hell,” Harley gently reminds. “So why would we ask? It’d only make you upset.”

“It wasn’t four months, you know,” Dean says.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I think I know how long my brother was gone,” Chase notes.

Dean meets her eyes briefly, before looking away. “I mean, yeah, it was four months up here but. I don’t know. Down there time is different.”

“How long was it?” Harley asks cautiously. 

“More like forty years.”

Chase makes a noise of hurt in her throat, and Sam lets out a small, “My God.”, but silence falls on all of them as they gaze at Dean in shock, mingled with horror. Tears shine in Dean’s eyes, further causing the three to be pained- Dean doesn’t often open himself up to vulnerability, so this is obviously difficult, traumatic, and painful for him. 

Dean’s voice cracks as he tries to explain to them just a fraction of what he’d gone through. “They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you... Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly... I would be whole again... like magic... just so they could start in all over. And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack... if I put souls on... if I started the torturing. 

“And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy.” Dean meets Sam’s eyes, before glancing over at the two girls. “Guys, I just couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls.” A tear escapes, falling down Dean’s face. “The -- the things that I did to them.”

“Dean, you held out for thirty years,” Sam points out.

“That’s longer than most anyone!” Harley adds. 

Chase gets up and puts a tentative, but supportive, arm around her brother, who leans in slightly to accept the comfort. “It’s okay, Dean. You did good. You held out longer than I would have, than anyone I know probably could have. You’re gonna be okay.”

“How I feel... This... inside me... I wish I couldn't feel anything. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing.” Dean finally breaks down further, more tears escaping as he begins to cry. Harley and Chase’s eyes meet over his shoulder as Chase fully hugs him. Tears are shining in both girls’ eyes. 

The four hunters stay there in silence as Dean lets out a portion of his pain to let them carry. Chase, Harley, and Sam can’t help the feeling of helplessness they feel. They couldn’t truly help Dean or ever begin to understand what he went through. They could only hold him, let him speak if he wishes to speak, be silent when he wishes to be silent, and constantly remind him they were there.