#and he later spat on august again

[indianchindian]

He spat omggggggg 🤣🤣😭😭

[mykoreanlove]

backseat love.

You lay in the back of his red mustang.

His beloved car was parked in a secluded stop near the beach.

It was a warm summer night in late August.

The sky was clear, the air was crisp.

The moon illuminated your beautiful features effortlessly.

You closed your eyes.

Jackson’s musky scent clouded your mind completely.

You felt his plush lips exploring your neck.

His kisses were sweet, restrained even.

His body hovered above you, always leaving a bit of space as to not smother you.

Your hands trailed along his strong arms, rubbing circles on the spots in which his skin was tattooed.

Jackson stopped kissing you for a moment as he giggled under your touch.

“That tickled.”

You smirked diabolically.

“My bad”.

Not even a second later you had your hands on his sides tickling him on purpose.

Jackson got startled and tried to escape your nimble fingers while laughing hysterically.

You learned to love that high pitched laugh rather quickly.

He easily freed himself out of your touch and reversed the roles.

Now, he held your hands in place and laid directly on you.

Feeling him felt nice, being this close to him felt even nicer.

The mood changed as quickly as his eyes did.

You did not understand how but his dark eyes turned even darker somehow.

Jackson looked at you intensely.

“Y/N, don’t you ever do that again. Unless…”

He stopped talking and observed your face instead.

You felt his eyes linger on your lips.

Excitement rushed through your whole body.

You licked your lips in anticipation.

“Unless?”

Jackson’s eyes lit up from arousal, swallowing hard.

“Unless you want to get punished, baby girl.”

He crushed his lips onto yours and kissed you with his all.

Desire, longing, yearning, passion – you couldn’t think of a word to describe him.

Describe this.

Your fingers found the back of his head, tugging on his Cruella hair.

“Need you closer.”

You mumbled in between kisses, not wanting to break contact with his lips.

Jackson complied, thrusting his hips onto you.

“Like this?”

You moaned.

Your eyes shot open from embarrassment.

Jackson’s lips turned to a smirk, watching you very closely.

“I wanna do that again.”

You looked confused.

“What?”

“I wanna hear you moan again. No, I-”

He thrusted his hips again, making you understand how desperate he was for you.

“I want to make you moan again. And again. And again.”

Jackson’s lips found yours again, kissing you until you ran out of breath.

His almond shaped eyes looked down at you, requesting.

“If you let me?”

Fuck, he was good.

Your hands let go of his hair and travelled down to his crotch instead.

You were kneading him through his pants, smirking at him.

“Let’s go then.”

You had no idea how long the two of you had been at it.

The car was rocking.

The windows were fogged.

The air smelled like sex.

Both of you were sweaty and out of breath.

You still sat on his lap thanks to the last position he had you in.

You were covered in bite marks.

Neck, tits, inner thighs – Jackson marked you everywhere.

“I had no idea our date would go like this but I liked it.”

He laughed shyly.

You mirrored his laughter and pressed your forehead to his.

Jackson took your head into his hands, watching you with the biggest smile.

“You are so beautiful, y/n. Like really, fucking beautiful.”

He placed another kiss on your lips.

The kisses before were hungry and hurried.

Now they were sincere and sweet.

“How the hell are you still single?”

Ouch.

That one hurt.

“Because of guys like you, Jackson.”

You wanted to get away from him.

And his car.

You wanted to get up and cry.

“Because of guys like you. The ones that get to know me and tell me the sweetest things. Y/N, you are so beautiful. Y/N, you are so great. I wanna date you and do this and do that blablabla. Guys like you Jackson, they only want to fuck me and then they leave for someone else. You tell me why I’m still single.”

You practically spat out those last words.

Rage filled your whole body.

“Hello? Y/N? You okay?”

You snapped back to reality, leaving your blame game fantasies.

An awkward laugh left your lips.

“Sorry, got lost in thought.”

You smiled, hoping he would let it go.

Jackson was not sure what to do next.

Your vibe had changed completely.

You were cold and reserved now.

Your body tense.

Your smile fake.

“Did I.. Did I do something wrong?”

You turned your head away, laughing again.

“Of course not.”

His hand grabbed your face smoothly and turned it back so you could face him.

“Don’t do that y/n.”

You looked at him surprised.

“Do what?”

“Don’t hide from me, please. I know that I said something that triggered you and I’m sorry. But please, don’t shut me out.”

Jackson’s eyes were filled with sorrow – something you had never seen before in a male counterpart.

Slowly you regained your composure.

“You asked as a joke, I overreacted. It was really not that deep.”

“What if it was?”

He tugged back the strands of hair that fell into your face.

“What if it was deep? Why not talk about it? Don’t hold everything in, y/n.”

You were resistant.

This was not what you wanted.

This was supposed to be a careless date.

How did it turn into this?

“Do you trust me?”

Strangely enough, you did.

You nodded your head.

Jackson beamed you a smile.

“I trust you, too.”

His words touched you.

He touched you.

You felt yourself relax, as if weight had dropped off your shoulders.

You let out a deep breath.

Jackson took your hands into his and squeezed them.

“Wanna know how this normally goes?”

He nodded quietly.

“Well, I am still single because I meet the worst kind of people. You know the ones that don’t want to commit but behave as if they fell in love with you? It’s always the same – they tell me the nicest things, just like you did. Y/N, you are amazing. You are beautiful and smart and funny blabla, how are you still single?”

Tears were starting to fill your eyes.

Jackson didn’t say a word.

He knew it was hard for you.

He knew what it felt like to be in your shoes.

He knew how hard it was to open up about your struggles.

Tears were running down your cheeks.

“God, I feel so stupid telling you all this. I am still single because guys only think of fucking me. That’s all they do. They use me and then they throw me away. Like I meant nothing. Like I was trash. They delete my contact, they block me, they are out of my life without a single word. That is why I am still single, Jackson. I’m just not made for love.”

Your last words lingered in the air for a while.

You felt his thumb on your cheek, whiping away your salty tears.

“That was hard, wasn’t it?”

You nodded.

You felt small.

You felt vulnerable.

You made a giant fool of yourself on this date.

Great.

“I admire you, y/n.”

Your reddened eyes shot up, looking at him with confusion.

“You.. You what?”

Jackson laughed, adoring your cuteness so much.

“I know what it’s like to go through hard times. And how it feels to be rejected. And how it feels to bottle it all up. I am sorry that you had to go though all this. But you haven’t closed off your heart and I admire you for that.”

Now you wanted to cry more.

Not out of sadness, but out of gratitude.

“What? Did you expect me to kick you out of my car after you confessed all that?”

Jackson laughed and started kissing your tears away.

He looked at you sternly, whispering.

“I would never do that.”

All of you wanted to believe him.

All of you craved for someone that was good to you for once.

But all of you was suspicious because of your past.

„You said this happened normally, right?“

You nodded.

„Good.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, closing the space between the two of you.

“I’m sure you already know that I am not a normal guy, right?”

[marvelsswansong]

I could be your new spring

summary: you spend an entire year doting after Billy Hargrove, who toys with and eventually breaks your heart. You're sobbing by yourself on a cold spring day when someone coughs and awkwardly offers you his jean jacket - it's Eddie Munson, staring at you with such foreign yet genuine warmth.

"I wasted an entire year on him, Eddie. One whole year I'll never get back." "I could be your new spring, if you'd like."

tags: Eddie x fem!reader, toxic and complete asshole Billy x fem!reader, best friends Robin/Nancy/Steve, hurt to comfort, heavy angst, fluff towards the end, happy ending dw, oneshot

☆ word count: 5.3K+ (whew) ☆

-> a/n: read this as a submitted ask on another writer's account and I knew I had to write it! I hope you angels enjoy <;3 Reader's discretion is advised that Billy is really mean in this and treats reader very poorly.

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Spring in Hawkins was cold, but nothing was colder than Billy Hargrove.

He'd strolled into Hawkins High with his slicked back hair and ocean scented cologne on the first week of August, and the moment he'd picked up a book you'd dropped and winked at you - you were never the same again.

Steve didn't like him from the outset. Your best friend was quick to pull you backwards from Billy the moment the blonde boy winked at you, shooting you a worried glance and warning you that he didn't like "the look of the new guy." Nancy had muttered agreements behind him, and normally, you would've listened to your friends in a heartbeat.

But you were instantly entranced. Billy was awfully charming. Cocky, the type to know that he was handsome and to exploit it. He walked with a certain city swagger, one which only a surfer boy from California could carry, the musk of sandalwood and salty sea water emanating from his copious jackets. You were far too shy to speak to him properly - particularly when crowds of popular girls and boys followed his every move - so you got accustomed to admiring his features from afar.

Steve pretended to hurl a few weeks later into the first semester when you'd confessed on a late night drive that the new kid from California had caught your eye. Your best friend's eyes widened in shock, irises burning with disgust as he looked over from the steering wheel.

"You know as your best friend I support all your decisions but Hargrove?" he spat out, his face scrunched up. "That asshole has two brain cells, max."

You rolled your eyes playfully, kicking your legs up on the dashboard.

"Of course you wouldn't like him, Steve. People are saying he might be coming for your 'crown' as the King of Hawkins High." you teased, poking him in the shoulder. That made his lips twist into a scowl, though his sour expression quickly melted into a soft grin when looking back over at you.

"Well, whatever the case, he's bad news. Just stay away, okay?"

He muttered it so tenderly as he pulled over in front of your house, speaking to you the same way he spoke to the kids when trying to protect them. Smiling, you waved his concerns off, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

"Relax, Steve, it's just a puppy crush. I'll be fine."

And it probably would've been, had the seating chart for your biology class not been shifted the Monday after. On top of that, a new group assignment was on the agenda. You were jittery with pure anxiety when you'd walked into the classroom that day to see Billy sitting next to the spot you usually sat, his name written in cursive next to yours on the blackboard.

"Joanne, right?" he'd asked you, casting you the briefest glance out of the corner of his eyes.

"No, uh... my name's (Y/n)." you'd meekly corrected, bag slowly dropping to the floor as you refused to even match his gaze.

Billy paused then, eyes shifting to look you up and down before a smirk slowly appeared on his face.

You didn't know it at the time, but he'd been subtledly watching you. Sure, he'd already slept with a good amount of girls - girls more popular than you, girls who were outgoing and loud... Cheerleaders, class presidents, varsity athletes of the sort. It was good for status and for one night stands, but they reminded him too much of the girls in California.

A bit ditzy. Vapid. Superficial. Annoying as soon as the sex was over and the type to want him to 'hang' around afterwards and be domestic. It disgusted him - Billy Hargrove did not do domestic.

But you...

At first, he'd written you off as Steve's little friend. The quiet loser who was gifted the seat at the popular table because you and Steve had grown up with houses right next to each other's. He couldn't lie, a part of your appeal was how much Steve kept you close, eager to keep you away from Billy's reach.

But a bigger part of your appeal, Billy thought, was how different you were from the other girls who fawned over him. Whilst they would dress up and scream loudly for his attention during basketball games, you'd sit by yourself to the side with another girl - Billy believed her name was Robin - with a book and a shy smile on your face.

And whilst other girls tried to seduce and sweet talk him at every party, you stood by your friends, conservatively taking sips from your red solo cup and avoiding Billy like the plague.

You didn't seek attention. You were a good girl, Billy noticed, the type that his father would scream at for him to find: quiet, dutiful, submissive. Gets all the homework done on time, volunteers at an animal shelter every weekend, plays the 'sober driver' for your friends on most night outs.

You're different, and to Billy, it feels like a challenge. A conquest to be won. Getting to piss off 'the hair' is just the cherry on top.

"...Is everything alright?" you meekly asked, noticing that he was just staring at you absentmindedly, not uttering a single word. Billy shook his thoughts away, a devious idea popping into his mind. He was going to toy with you - his little lamb - and you would be none the wiser.

"Everything's perfect. Just peachy, doll."

Becoming Billy's biology partner meant seeing him every two days. He reeled you in slowly during those boring lectures. He'd ask you nonsensical questions, just to get you talking and to have you move closer towards him when he'd complain not being able to read your notes. He'd purposefully mess up the experiments so you two would have to stay after class, your hands shaking as they guided his towards the correct vial.

The regular classes also gave him an excuse to pry into your life. Your hobbies, your friends, your likes and dislikes... The faux interest and 'small talk' stage of love, laid out one by one. He was toying with you and you were oblivious to it all, following dutifully behind him like a puppy.

"You're so different from most other girls here." Billy once said, running a hand through his hair. "You're so... Hawkins-esque."

Your pen paused mid-scrawl, eyes hesitantly peering up at the blonde boy with trepidation.

"Is that a... good thing? Or not?"

You were staring at him with so much hope, doe eyes overwhelming with unadulterated innocence that it made his gut churn with nausea.

"It's a good thing." he'd responded. And the moment you flashed him a brilliant smile in response, giggling softly under your breath, he knew you were hooked.

Hook, slink, reel.

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

The end of summer came soon enough, also marking the end of the biology project. And as soon as the project was turned in, Billy went back to ignoring you. He dodged your friendly waves and greetings in the hallways, made it a point to sit as far away from you in class. You didn't think too much of it, wholly convinced that he was just busy preparing for the upcoming basketball championships.

Your friends weren't as convinced, with Nancy tapping your shoulder impatiently as you moped around your locker one chilly autumn day whilst hoping to catch a glimpse of Billy before third period.

"I don't think you should be hanging around Billy so much." she'd gently pleaded, lightly pulling at your lower arm.

"Hm?" you weren't really paying attention to her, head far too preoccupied with thoughts of Billy and his gorgeous head of curls.

"Billy Hargrove. He's an awful person, he's been taking advantage of you." she muttered quietly, gently smoothing over your hair.

Suppressing a sigh, you closed your locker shut and forced on a smile.

"I get why you and Steve think that Billy's an awful person but he's different around me, okay? Like when we're together, he's actually kind of nice to me." you breathed out, unsure if you were trying to convince your friend or yourself. "And yeah, maybe we're not talking all the time anymore, but... sometimes people are busy, okay, Nance?"

A look of pity spread across her face and you could feel the impending speech rolling in, making you throw your hands up to stop her.

"It's fine, okay? Just drop it."

She opened her mouth to argue but you were already walking away from her, heels frantically clicking against the floor.

And just as you were giving up hope, you were leaning against your car - red orange leaves scattered across the driveway, the smell of rain soaked grass tinting the autumn air - and Billy was back to winking at you in the hallways and asking you to tutor him after school.

He always arrived late and sometimes never even showed up (giving you vague apologies the next session), but you never minded. Especially not when he'd slouch in his seat, roll up the cuffs of his sleeves to expose his biceps and shoot you that charismatic wink.

"You're real smart, you know that? I could never get my fucking head around math." he'd once said, speaking up to the ceiling. Heat crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, butterflies fluttering in your abdomen.

"Thanks, Billy. I don't know, it's just... I work hard, I think that's it."

He hummed quietly, left hand reaching into his back pocket for a cigarette and a lighter, the sight of which immediately made you tense.

"Uh, I don't think we're allowed to smoke in here-"

Holding up his pointer finger to shush you, he lit the cigarette quickly before inhaling deeply, a slow exhale of toxic smoke being released from his wet lips.

"Relax, babygirl. We won't get caught."

All arguments died in your mouth when the word 'babygirl' reached your ears, a fuzzy haze settling over your confused mind. Billy noticed with an internal smirk that the nickname clearly got you flustered as you quickly uncrossed your legs under your skirt and began to stutter awkwardly, attempting to get back to the lesson at hand.

You were just too easy to control, he thought. Shy, goody two shoes, innocent disposition - on top of fierce loyalty that meant you'd never question him.

The perfect toy.

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

By the time winter had begun to descend onto the town - blankets of white snow covering the grey pavement and barren trees lining the roads - it was undeniable. You were utterly, totally infatuated with Billy Hargrove.

It was the week before winter break when you were flicking snowflakes off from your jacket, shuddering in the cold before a familiar car rolled to a stop before you. It was Billy, lowering his window and asking you if you wanted a ride back home.

"I'm on my way to the mall, so as long as your house is that way-"

"Oh actually it isn't-"

"Great, then you can just walk from the mall. Now get in."

You shrugged, figuring that it would beat walking the extra fifteen minutes on foot in this freezing cold. Strapping yourself into the front seat, there was an awkward silence that hung in the air before you worked up the nerves to ask him the question that'd been plaguging your mind.

"Are you staying in Hawkins for the winter break?"

The truth was that the thought of not being able to see him for weeks on end over the winter break made your stomach twist with discomfort and sadness, even if the company Billy currently gave you was questionable. Weeks alternated between him doting over you, following you around and calling you sweet names, and then weeks of him ignoring or slyly insulting you in front of his friends.

It was incredibly confusing and frustrating. But there had to be something behind it all, you reasoned. Why you were the only girl that Billy kept around for the entirety of the school year.

At your sudden question, Billy pulled over his car, an unreadable expression on his face as he gave you an unceremonious shrug.

"Not sure. Why'd you ask?"

The seatbelt around your body suddenly felt too tight, the winter coldness seeping in through the heat being blasted in the car.

"I was just wondering if... you know, you're going to be around here in town we can like... hang out? I'll be working part-time at a cafe but other than that I'm quite fr-"

"Yeah, yeah, sounds great, babe." he dismissed you with a quick wave, but you were content so long as he called you babe.

His heart twisted with erotic satisfaction with the way you flashed him that hopeful smile, so kind and trusting, before you kissed his cheek and hopped out of the car.

You ended only seeing him once during the break: it was a complete accident too, not that you noticed. Him and his friends just happened to stroll into the cafe you worked at and you perked up immediately, all gloomy thoughts being washed away in an instant. He'd flashed you that charming smile, apologized for not calling - "things are crazy busy back home, you know?" - and you accepted it.

"Anyways, can I get these for free?" he'd asked, holding up a few bags of pastries up in the air.

"Sure."

Robin had watched the entire interaction play out from the back of the store and was quick to approach you as soon as they left.

"What did that asshole want?" she growled, side eyeing the direction where Billy had just left. You frowned at that as you re-adjusted your apron.

"You really have to stop calling him that, Robin."

"Why? He's the biggest asshole this town's ever fucking seen. (Y/n), he's been doing nothing but toying with you - treating you hot and cold, all over the place." she pleaded, following you around the store as you attempted to dodge the conversation. Noticing your silence and stern straightforward gaze, she sighed, cutting your footsteps off by standing in front of you. "I'm - Nancy and Steve too - worried about you. Billy's been nothing but horrible to you for almost two semesters straight and you still haven't cut him off-"

Robin jumped at the sudden loud sound you made when you slammed your serving tray down onto a nearby table, a shaky breath leaving your lips before you slowly re-composed yourself. You didn't even bother to look up at your best friend as you gathered up the stack of dirty plates.

"None of you have any idea what's actually going on. I get that you all worry, and I'm grateful that you all care, but this is between me and Billy, okay? There are just some things you three can't understand because you're just looking in from the outside." you hurriedly explained, anger bubbling to the top. "I just, I need-"

An uneasy sigh escaped your lips.

"I need you all to support me instead of fighting me all the time on things like this. Please."

Robin looked like she wanted to say more, hands clenched by her sides. But one hopeless look from you and she caved, shutting her mouth.

"Alright, fine. Just... be careful, okay?"

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

It takes until spring time for you to finally see the truth.

All the memories of your friends warning you about Billy throughout the year now play like a broken record in your head. You're leaning against the chipped wooden wall of a huge surburban house, your frantic breaths coming out in white whisps of air.

It was a house party. You'd come along at the request of Steve and Robin but quickly lost sight of them when you saw Billy smoking with a few of his basketball friends by the balcony. All thoughts of having a great night by your best friends dissipated at the glorious sight of him sitting there, legs spread, his lips toying with the lit cigarette.

"I'll catch you guys around, okay?" you'd yelled over the music, pushing through the crowd before either of them could protest. Wiping your palms on your jeans, you carefully trodded towards the group of boys, feeling Billy's friends all turn their judgmental gazes at you.

"Hi Billy." you managed to whisper. He shot you half a glance, an amused smirk on his face which you mistook for genuine interest.

"Hey."

He turned around to continue his conversation with his friends, making your shoulders deflate in disappointment. You'd been after him for almost a year now and he couldn't even spare you more than one word? Suddenly feeling brave, you tapped on his shoulder again, to which he audibly groaned.

"Why the fuck are you still bothering me?" he spat out, eyes blazing with anger. It hit you then all at once, how you were never anything but gentle and kind with him, but he was at times so... unnecessarily cruel and mean.

"Why... why are you being so mean to me?"

The question slipped out of your mouth instinctively, unconsciously. The loud chatter amongst the basketball players stopped and Billy's posture shifted, his expression morphing from one of boredom and annoyance to... pure evil. He let out a long chuckle, blonde trussels of hair covering his eyes as his head shook with laughter.

"God, are you that fucking dense?" he growled, stubbing his lit cigarette against an ashtray.

He sounded angry. No, furious. His entire body was tense and your first instinct was to comfort him, one hand reaching out to him. But he was quick to grab you by the forearm and back you up against the wall, the loud house music now muted in your ears.

"You still don't get it, do you? What, I call you 'babygirl' and 'babe' a few times and hang out with you after school and you think I'm gonna get on one knee and propose? Huh? Think I’d go home with you to meet mommy and daddy?"

His friends bursted out into a chorus of obnoxious laughter at that comment, Billy's ego on fire as he leaned in even closer. At this proximity, you could count the freckles dotting his cheeks and smell the stench of cigarattes on his lips.

"Listen. You’re just a brainless slut who needs to learn her place. Maybe when you learn to shut up-" he growled, pausing ever so slightly to look down at your top. "Then I’ll fuck you, like the charity case you are."

He shoved off of you after that, hands already turning to his back pocket to light another cigarette.

"Now piss off."

And here you are now.

You don't really know how you managed to get out of that room - feet stumbling, chest heavy, heart crumbling in between pained gasps. What you do know is that the freezing winds clawing at your exposed skin feel like nothing compared to the crushing weight you feel on your chest.

Your legs practically give out from pure exhaustion and you fall down onto the front steps of the porch, head immediately falling to your knees.

You feel pathetic. You feel embarrassed. You feel angry.

And yet, above all, you feel heartbroken.

You can practically hear your best friends' responses in the back of your mind - "see, we told you!""you should've listened to us!". They're right, of course. They were right all along.

But the last thing you want right now is a lecture.

So even if walking back inside and finding Robin and Steve is the smart thing to do, you decide against it, gritting your teeth. It's freezing out here, sure, but you much prefer it to the sweltering, body to body heat of the house party raging inside.

You're not even sure how much time passes before you feel someone else's presence behind you. Your head is still in your lap, tears falling faster than rain, shaky hands grasping and ungrasping your knees in discomfort.

The figure awkwardly clears their throat, making you flinch and pick your head up. Your first immediate thought is that it's Billy, coming to take a victory lap and make you feel worse.

But it's not.

It's Eddie Munson. Infamous repeat senior and D&D enthusiast. You've shared, at most, two classes with him: but you always sat in the front and he always sat in the back, loitering and doodling into his notebooks. You know of him, but you've never really spoken to him.

Nonetheless, right now, he's standing in front of you, holding his hands up in a mock surrender.

"Relax, it's just me." He then lowers his hands ever so slightly, before moving to take off his jacket. "It's super cold out here, could I, uh-"

He gestures with his hands, indicating that he wants to know if it's okay to drape the fabric over your exposed shoulders. You nod slowly, the warmth in his eyes too fierce to decline. It feels foreign, you think, having someone look at you like that when Billy's never looked at you with any warmth.

Eddie grins at your response, moving to sit down next to you on the steps before carefully wrapping the jacket over your figure.

Warmth floods your body - much needed warmth - and you subconsciously find yourself burrowing further into the fabric. It carries a comforting, earthy smell: a mix of rain soaked dirt, fresh wood and a bit of weed. The weight's also nice against your shoulders, grounding you back towards reality.

"Thank you." you quietly mutter, cautiously peering up at his face. You don't really know what he's feeling - is it pity? Is it another prank? Is he out here to smoke and you just happened to be in the way? But he simply leans back, ring clad hands waving away your concerns.

"Nah, it's nothing. Least I can do, when this shithole town plunges into fucking Siberian winter every spring."

His joke makes you laugh a bit, tension loosening from your chest. He's practically a stranger to you but there's an inviting aura around him, a calm energy bubbling under the surface that makes you lower all your inhibitions.

It also helps, you suppose, that he's actually really attractive. Up close, you can survey his features much better under the dim house light hanging above. His well sculpted jawline, doe brown eyes, his slender fingers clanking with metal accessories as he runs a hand through his curly dark hair.

"So, uh... I know this is a dumb question but are you okay? I mean, relatively." he lamely adds, wincing at how he ends his question. Your eyes widen in alarm.

"D-did you see-"

"Billy fucking Hargrove being his usual douchebag self? Yeah." he counters, venom dripping from his voice. You bite your tongue, anxious at the prospect of having so many people witnessed that humiliating scene, which the metalhead seems to pick up on immediately. "But don't worry, not many people were looking. I just happened to be passing by. Promise."

He holds out a pinkie finger towards you, a boyish smile on his face. The gesture is kind of silly and immature, but his childlike joy is so contagious that you can't fault him for it, carefully wrapping your finger around his.

"I just... god, I feeling really fucking stupid right now." you confess, groaning into your hands. He clicks his tongue at that, raising his eyebrows.

"Miss straight A's, stupid? I hardly think so."

Lifting your head from your palms, you pause. Maybe it's the way he's handling you tonight - fragile, delicate, wrapping you in his jacket as if you're the most precious antique at a museum. Or maybe it's the way he looks at you so intently as you speak: nodding along to every word, smiling in between breaths, brushing his knees closer to you with every sentence exchanged.

But you feel safe. And as if you can tell him anything.

"If I tell you something, can you promise it stays between us?" you shakily ask, this time offering your pinkie finger towards him. His eyes switch between staring at your finger and your face, before he nods enthusiastically and wraps his finger around yours.

"Absolutely. I love secrets." he teases, making you roll your eyes.

"Okay, well... I know it's dumb but I... I really thought Billy liked me. I thought it all meant something, you know? All the time we spent together. Him calling me all those pet names. Him driving me back home that one time and promising to hang out with me over winter break..." you swallow nervously, toying with the zipper of Eddie's jacket. "The worst part is I really liked him. Even when he showed up late. Even when he ignored me."

You let out a shaky breath, sucking in cold air.

"And even right now, I can't find it in myself to totally hate him. I know that's pathetic." you curse, wiping away a stray tear angrily. Eddie shifts closer towards you at that.

"Hey, no, it's not pathetic at all. Stop being so mean to yourself. The only person at fault is Billy." he reassures you, his knees now brushing directly up against yours. His presence is quiet but comforting, a steady hand placed alongside your shaky ones.

"I wasted an entire year on him, Eddie. One whole year I'll never get back."

The statement hangs heavy in the air, your voice filled with pure grief and rage. You don't even realize you're crying again until his cool fingers brush against your cheeks, wiping away your tears tenderly as his eyes survey your face - hazel orbs burning with care and compassion.

"So fuck him. You start this year brand new, that's the whole point of spring, right? Cut Billy out completely and focus on spending time with people who love and care about you, people who actually know you. Whether that's King Harrington or Wheeler or a repeat senior/devil-worshipper with a jean jacket."

A giggle escapes your lips at his joke.

"And what could you possibly know about me, Eddie Munson?" you tease, sniffling. Eddie looks offended, placing a hand on his hcest.

"Hey, we might not have ever officially talked, but I'm more perceptive than I look!" he argues. "For example, I know that you like sunflowers and dogs. I know that you volunteer at an animal shelter every weekend and you prefer rainy days over sunny days. I also know that you're really sweet, smart and hardworking. But above all... I know that you're an incredible, super beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime girl who doesn't deserve to be wasting tears on a dickhead like Hargrove."

You blink slowly at the metalhead, not having expected such a heartfelt and detailed response. His final sentence lingers in the air as Eddie then awkwardly laughs, scratching his neck. He's staring at you, trying to gauge your reaction, internally panicking that he's just crossed the line.

"That's... the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." is all you can manage to say. Eddie blushes lightly at that, shooting you a small wink.

"Well, you deserve it."

Wiping at your wet eyes, you chuckle, hands gripping the wooden beams on the side as you shakily stand up.

"You wanna go back inside?" Eddie questions instantly, straightening up in a protective stance.

"Not really, to be honest. I'd rather be anywhere but the party right now." you confess, licking your lips to wet them. Eddie's eyes lights up at that, a mischevious smirk spreading on his lips.

"Then come with me. I drove here in my van, so I can drive you to your place. Or, even better, but only if you want, I can drive you to my hideout spot."

He's wiggling his eyebrows and teasing you, enticing you to join him in ditching this party. He extends one of his hands, waiting for you to take it, and you do instantly.

"That sounds great, Eddie."

The two of you shove through the crowds of drunk people relatively easily, the loud house music combined with your carefree laughter a heavenly sound to Eddie's ears. He can't believe you've just said yes, he can't believe the girl he's been silently crushing on for the past year has just agreed to sit in his van and go to his hideout spot with him-

Spotting Billy by the keg stand, a murderous rage fills Eddie's veins before he stops.

"What is it?" you question, confused. Eddie lets go of your hand, but not before giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

"Wait here for me for a bit, will you?"

Before you can even question what Eddie's going to do, he's walking away from you and making a bee-line towards Billy and his friends. You can't even make out what Eddie's saying over the music - all you see is Eddie saying something, Billy rolling his eyes and retorting something with an obnoxious smirk, before Eddie chuckles and throws a hard right punch at Billy's face.

The crowd around the two disperse, a chorus of "ooh" and "holy shit" erupting as Billy tumbles to the floor with a nasty thud. Eddie doesn't even look phased, a satisfied smile on his face as he turns around and walks up to you once more.

"Ready?" he asks you, holding your left hand again. You look back and see that Billy's been knocked out cold - which was surely going to bruise his ego for weeks to come. Shocked, you're speechless as you nod, not uttering a single word until Eddie's van door shuts behind you and the car pulls into the road.

"I'm sorry." Eddie then blurts out mid-drive. "If you're mad about me punching Billy, I totally understand, but I-I just had to do it, he hurt you and-"

You place a gentle hand on his leg, stopping him mid-rant.

"Eddie. I'm not mad at all. I was just silent because I was shocked that you'd punch THE Billy Hargrove for me."

Eddie chuckles at that, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, yeah. To be honest, I don't think there's much I wouldn't do for you, pretty girl."

Pretty girl.

You like that, you realize. It's wholly different from Billy's infamous 'babygirl'. Even better, it's genuine and believable coming from Eddie.

When the van eventually lulls to a stop, you stop him from getting out, hands desperately flying on top of his on the steering wheel. He glances at you, confused, before you swallow nervously.

"Did you, uh... mean what you said back there? About me being able to start over this year? A new spring and everything, without Billy?"

You're so close to him that you can individually count the droplets of water adorning his hairline from the spring rain, his lips suddenly mere inches from yours. Your eyes subconsciously flicker down to stare at his lips before quickly snapping back up to look into his eyes, a movement which doesn't go unnoticed by Eddie. He hides the revelation with a slow smile.

"I meant it wholeheartedly. You deserve a life without Billy. New year, new spring."

Eddie then slowly leans in, giving you ample time to back out. But your lashes flutter shut and he takes it as the sign to close the gap completely. His lips are slightly bitter and cold against yours, one of his hands flying up to cup your cheeks as you lean in even closer. He tastes like a mix of lukewarm beer and your peach chapstick, a tangy sweetness lingering in your mouth once you pull away.

"I could be your new spring, if you'd like." he teases lowly, brushing away strands of hair from your eyes. The affectionate gesture sends a chill down your spine, head fuzzy with adoration.

"I'd like that."

[joelslegalwhre]

Softy on the inside

Even if i’m “just reposting” this for the new main… again, thanks sm for your request @f1-hoff 🤎

paring⁀➷ dad!august walker x (fem!)mom!reader

word count ⁀➷ 1.1k

summary ⁀➷ up in the ask

warnings ⁀➷ soft!august (for his family only), swearing, kinda questionable morals, kissing, fluff

a/n ⁀➷ (tell me if I missed a warning pls!) soft!august but only for his family?? yes pleasee! Thanks for the request love!

You knew who August Walker was, better than anyone. What he had in mind. And yet, you couldn't feel anything but love for him.

You didn't support his actions, and he was well aware of it. But you knew that you couldn't stop him if he wanted something. You were just like him when it came to being stubborn.

August may have had some very questionable morals and worldviews, but when he was with you, nothing of that mattered. He was the most loving, caring and respectful man you have ever met.

The moment he laid his eyes on you, August knew you were his one in a million, his future wife and the mother of his children.

And now, almost four years later, that's exactly what you were. His wife, the love of his life, and the mother of his son.

Your phone rang in your pocket, and you fished it out of your jeans. „Hi Walker." you teased him, using his, your, last name. A game you loved to play. „Hey, Y/N.” he teased you back using your full name.

"Dad, dadda!" your son excitedly babbled, seated on your hip.

He could sense his daddy from a mile.

You giggled and nudged his nose with yours.

„Hey mister." August grinned at the other end of the phone. The two have had a special bond ever since they first looked at each other the day your baby was born. That day, in the small hospital room with just the three of you, August's eyes changed. Into the ones of a father, one that would do anything, literally anything, to keep his family safe.

Changing to a more serious tone, you asked,

„ls everything okay?".

"I'm good, baby. Uhm, I just forgot the other phone at home.." his voice lowered at the last part of his sentence. „Could you maybe bring it? Just if that's fitting for you, I don't wanna boss you around, peaches."

„Don't worry, where are you right now?" you asked while looking for the phone.

Finding it laying on the dresser, just as he described, you put it in your pocket.

„I'll send you the address. I love you, peaches." August softly said.

„I love you." you returned with a smile.

"Let's bring Daddy his phone, shall we?" you smiled at the little man on your arm. He smiled up at you, his eyes - which looked just like your own - shining with joy. You chuckled and kissed his hairline.

August was heading for the safe house in London and you knew he needed the phone, he wouldn't have called you if it wasn't truly important. And you knew it was safe, August would never risk having you, nor your child, in danger.

You were just going to combine this with a visit to the playground, a win-win situation, since August would have his phone and you could go on a swing with your little man and maybe even wear him out, so he'd be fast asleep for his nap time.

The address August sent you wasn't far away. Pushing the stroller in front of you, you had a glance at your phone from time to time, just to make sure you were walking in the right direction. „Dada!" your eyes followed the direction of the little hand pointing at his daddy. August must've heard it, because he did the same. A smile crept up his face as he saw the two of you, and you waved a hand as you returned his smile.

He was still standing a few meters away from you when you stopped. There was no need to get any closer to the group he was standing with.

The name to which August reacted seemed to draw the attention of his bystanders. A woman turned around to look at you, and you gave her a small smile, which she returned.

„Who's that?" One of them asked as he watched the interaction between you and your husband. „None of your business, Hunt." August spat out with a look that could kill, clearly showing that he couldn't stand the man in front of him one bit.

He made his way to you with heavy steps, anyone else would run if a man his size came towards them like he did, but his gaze softened with every step he took until he finally stood in front of you.

„Hi handsome." you smiled up at him as you handed August his phone.

„Hey peaches," he put it in his suit pocket, kissing your cheek, „Thank you.".

„Be careful please." Your smile was now replaced with worry. August nodded, and a smile crept up at the corner of his lips, his large hand at your chin tilting your head slightly up to look at him „I promise." he said in a low voice.

August kissed the top of your nose, and you closed your eyes at his loving gesture, while the group he left behind couldn't believe their eyes at August Walker's sudden change. It was as if he was someone else. Instead of the cold and often rude behaviour, he seemed loving and protective.

August bent down to your son, who was still in his stroller, looking up at his parents. „Hey little man," August grinned at him, „Take care of mommy until I'm back, alright?"

With bright eyes, your mini me shook his head yes and babbled some incomprehensible words at his dad. August tousled through his dark hair with a smile.

"Don't go anywhere until I'm back." he looked back at you with a hint of concern in his eyes. He tried to hide it, but you could see right through it. „Promise" you smiled. August bent down a little to connect your lips with his. Your eyes shut close, savoring the moment and the scent radiating from him.

His lips were soft, and you quickly opened yours for him. August didn't waste another second and deepened the kiss, cupping your face with his strong hands. Yours were already wrapped around his neck, lightly tugging at his hair. A soft moan escaped your lips as he gently bit your lip. August planted one more kiss on your lips before his hands wandered down to your hips, pulling you even closer.

„I love you, peaches." he whispered. „I love you too." Your arms wrapped around his torso, your head nuzzling into his muscular chest. August's hands wandered up your back, and he just held you close for some time.

„Now, aren't you going to introduce us to your lady and the little Walker?" Hunt asked him once August returned to them.

„No." was all he coldly said, the August they all knew being back.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[bluemoonshadow561]

Camping Trip

Roman woke up shivering, beads of sweat trickling down his aching temples and soaking his pillowcase. With a shaking hand, he felt around in the darkness of the tent for his phone, and squinted when it lit up at full brightness. It was 4:32 AM. He sighed tremulously.

He rolled over in his sleeping bag. His belly, poking out over his blue flannel pajama pants, grumbled ominously, bloated with gas and beginning to cramp and churn.

He curled in on himself, pressing his fingers into his abdomen, trying to massage the pain away. Staring up at the silhouettes of trees through the roof of the tent, he imagined their sharp branches poking and stabbing his insides, bobbing up and down in the wind in a nauseating rhythm.

He sighed, inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and swallowed a torrent of runny saliva, clenching his eyelids shut. He straightened his legs, stretched his arms as far out as they could reach before bumping into the walls of the tent, then rolled over and groaned softly as the motion made his stomach lurch.

Roman’s father and brothers were asleep next to him. His step mom and sisters were in the other tent. There was hardly any way to get up without waking everyone. He knew this because August had clumsily gotten up to use the bathroom a few hours making everyone stir.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go on this camping trip, but Dad and Monica were outdoorsy folks, and they insisted that he, J.C., and August come along because the woods are so beautiful and they could use some fresh air and time away and all this other bullshit. But he desperately craved quality time and attention from his father, who he rarely got to see. So rather than say he wasn’t feeling up to a camping trip and risk disappointing his dad yet again, he figured he’d push through.

He knew by the cold, sick feeling in his throat and by the increase in burps he had to stifle that he was inevitably going to vomit. Roman sat up, hand not leaving his poor stomach, and eased himself around J.C.’s feet. He made eye contact with his older brother before ducking through the tent door and venturing far enough away to a bush where he’d hoped his family wouldn’t hear.

He belched and spat into the bush and leaned forward to rest his hands on his thighs. He groaned at the increasing intensity of his insides. He couldn’t take it anymore and laid out on the ground for what felt like hours before finally he retched. It surprised him. He sat up and covered his mouth tentatively before watery brown bits gushed up his throat and splattered onto the forest floor. His stomach heaved and heaved even after it was empty and Roman could only lie there pitifully.

“You okay?” J.C. asked.

Roman jumped, then coughed and wiped his mouth. “Wonderful.”

“What is it?” he heard his father ask, traces of annoyance in his voice.

“Roman’s throwing up,” J.C. explained, his own tone betraying irritation. In his feverish daze, Roman couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or his father, though later he’d deduce it was the latter.

Roman’s cheeks burned from both his fever and embarrassment.

“Oh…are you alright buddy?” his dad asked with a tenderness Roman couldn’t remember hearing since…ever? He heard the man crunching over leaves and sticks to approach him.

“I don’t feel good.”

“Did you eat something bad?”

“I don’t know.”

His father squatted down and placed the back of his hand on Roman’s forehead. “Christ, you’re burning up,” he muttered. “I’m gonna go get Monica.”

“No, it’s fine,” Roman said. “I feel a little better now. I just wanna go back to sleep.”

“Make sure you drink water,” J.C. said. “There’s some in the cooler.”

“Okay,” Roman said, scrunching up his nose at the thought of ingesting anything, although he was very thirsty.

As he lay back down in the tent between his brothers and father, he felt sick, but he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time — cared for.

[spnfemslashbang]

Title: The One You’ve Waited For

Author: rex_writes

Artist: Ephemera

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Charlie Bradbury/Meg Masters

Warnings:  No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Only One Bed,  Meg looks like she could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll, First Kiss, Fingering, Oral Sex  

Posting Date: August 19

Summary: Charlie has been lusting after Meg Masters - prickly, sharp-tongued Meg - ever since she first met her. But Charlie was in a relationship and Meg was...Meg and Charlie never dreamed that anything could ever happen.So when a newly single Charlie is invited on a trip to Hawaii by her best friend Dean Winchester, and Meg just so happens to be tagging along, Charlie wonders if this is a sign. . But the universe isn't going to make it that easy for Charlie, because sometimes you have to survive a series of misunderstandings, miscommunications, meddling best friends, and a mistrustful Meg Masters before you can finally be with The One You've Waited For. 

Keep reading for an short excerpt

“Fireball, really Meg? If I didn’t know any better I would think you were trying to get me drunk.” 

“Oh, honey. If I was trying to get you drunk, you would never see it coming,“ Meg purred, and Charlie nearly spat out her shot. 

Six shots and two shitty beers later Charlie was definitely drunk, but she also hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time. Meg hadn’t stopped touching Charlie since their second or third shot and they were nearly falling over one another swapping stories of how idiotic both Dean and Cas were during their “break up”. 

“He was so pitiful, like a goddamn lost puppy. I HATED seeing him like that, especially after the last guy that hurt him. Ooooh, Bart was a piece of work, and Clarence was so gone on him, he couldn’t see what an absolute asshole that guy was.” Meg took a swig of her beer. “Anyway, I think that’s why I hated Dean for so long, I didn't want to see Cas hurt like that again, you know?” 

“Oh my god, I get it. At least Cas doesn’t have incredibly self-destructive coping mechanisms. Did I tell you how I found Dean when I came over right after I found out?” 

Meg shook her head. 

“Oh my god, he drank an ENTIRE whiskey bottle the night before while watching old westerns on TV. And then later that night he was bawling on my shoulder while he puked up the entire contents of his stomach. He was a fucking mess. God, I’m so glad they made up.” Charlie rested her head on Meg’s shoulder and as soon as she realized the intimate nature of the movement she jerked her head back and nearly fell off the chair. 

“Woah, there Red…Okay, maybe we pause on the shots and get you some water.” Meg gestured to the bartender for two glasses of water. 

“Thanks, Meg. You’re a really good friend. You’re not the heinous bitch that everyone thinks you are.” Charlie’s eyes widened with the realization of what she just said. “No, I–I don’t think you’re a—I mean—just Dean thought you know when—and—shit. I’m drunk and I think you’re really pretty and you’re super intimidating, but in, like, a really hot way. And shut up Charlie. I’m sorry I sometimes can’t—” 

“You think I’m pretty?” Meg said quietly, no trace of the snark that was pervasive in everything she said. 

Charlie’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Um, yeah…you know that right, I mean you must have people tell you that all the time.” 

“Intimidating? Yes. A Bitch? All the fucking time. Pretty? No, never. I—-people never get close enough to get past those things.” 

“I—will you—um—Can I?” Charlie leaned in and closed her eyes, expecting Meg to close the distance and kiss her. After what felt like forever she opened her eyes and Meg was gone.

[harry-cadogan]

18 August 1800 129 Keen Street (though rather close to the property line) Late

He threw a stone at the window and waited for a reaction. One, two.

The moonlight filled the garden and Ophelia his thoughts: particularly her scent, and if it was the same as the garden, or if he just so associated her with the violets and tulips and lilacs that grew there, that they had become inextricably linked in his mind. 

Staring up at the dark window, he reached for another pebble and tossed it. Rap, it hit the window, tumbling to the ledge and then the ground below. And again, he waited for an answer.

He tried six more times before yawning, and opting to foray into the larder in lieu of a goodnight kiss.

---

19 August 1800 129 Keen Street, Second Bedroom After noon, before luncheon

Leaning out the window, Harry peered down into the garden. The neighboring house was differently-kept (which was to say better kept, but Harry had little interest in tending to grounds he did not own). From this vantage point, he could make out the edge of a dining table through the first-floor window, the sliver of her doorway from the second-floor. He stared into it, his eyes fighting against the brightness of the day. 

But the house was all stillness and peace. He saw the wisp of a maid’s dress, and sighed. Harry Cadogan had no interest in maids.

---

19 August 1800 Hyde Park A little after that

The park was bustling, even for the late stretch of the calendar. Every Sunday for weeks on end, the bells at St. George’s rang out, announcing marriage upon infinite marriage. “You would think that would declutter the place,” Harry muttered to Lord Kinnaird, the pair strolling along the wide lanes. The Scotsman only laughed.

“But truly!” Harry continued, undeterred. “What is the sense in staying here once your journey has concluded? There is naught here save for matchmaking and water-milk!”

“Parliament,” said Kinnaird, with a concillatory bob of his head. “Meetings of the House do hold some sway.”

“Oh,” said Harry. “Ri--”

A flash of blonde caught his attention, and he tapped Charlie’s arm quite suddenly. “Excuse me.”

Bounding down the lane, Harry canted into a light jog as he caught up to her. Blue dress, blue ribbon, blonde waves that seemed to shimmer like sand beneath waves. Relief swept him. “Finally!” He proclaimed, stepping alongside and then just past. “I have been looking ever--”

The woman beside her -- older, he realized latently, and unfamiliar, he noticed a second too late -- gasped, and pulled the girl closer. Harry’s face fell as the woman did not materialize into Ophelia, but instead one younger, with childhood still in her cheeks. “I-- I apologize,” he stuttered, but they hurried away with distaste all the same.

He found he could not care, for the emotion overwhelmingly sweeping him was not shame, but sadness.

---

19, 20, 21 August 1800 Morning, afternoon, and quite late in the evening

There began to be a pile of pebbles on the ground outside Ophelia’s window. 

---

22 August 1800 Mid-morning

“Have you called upon the Vanes of late?”

Asking Primrose was a last-ditch option, and he hoped that doing so over morning tea would sweeten her response.

It did not. She stared, and buttered a scone, and rolled her eyes.

“They left London six days ago,” said Primrose. Harry nearly spat out his tea.

“Do not lie!” 

“I am not.”

“Hah!” Harry scoffed, eyes wide and wild in disbelief. “That cannot be so. It simply--”

Primrose turned away, returning to the latest Whistledown.

---

A bit later.

He knocked on the door twice, and then a hesitant third.

The house next door was pleasingly similar, all Grecian details and proper, English practicality. It had never once made him feel small, but uncertainty swept over him, then. For the first time, he questioned if he was unwelcome.

A maid answered the door, and he felt his mouth dry. Just beyond, he could see white draping across the furniture. The air held not even a hint of her perfume.

“Is--” he began, not knowing what to say, for he knew the answer. Harry cleared his throat.

“I am looking for Miss Vane.”

@missvane

[fragmentsofemelia]

Original Short Story - Chastleton House

National Trust: Chastleton House File

April 2005:

During the examination of Chastleton House a series of letters were found within a wall cavity in the Cavalier room. The letters were bound together in twine, with a crimson wax seal. The letters detail the first stay of Florence Whitmore-Jones (born Florence Clough) at Chastleton House. Although much of Florence’s early life is undocumented we can assume that she is between nineteen and twenty one at the time of writing. Florence would go on to marry John Henry Whitmore-Jones in the spring of 1830 and in the autumn she had her first child, Arthur Whitmore-Jones. Unfortunately Florence passed away during the birth of her third child, Willie Whitmore-Jones.

August 2016:

The letters were handed to the National Trust in the autumn of 2007 and were displayed within the property up until 2016, when the living relatives asked for them to be removed.

LETTER I

27th November 1829

Dear Mother,

It gives me the greatest pleasure to assure you that I arrived safely at Chastleton House in the late evening last night. The journey was exceptionally long, however, Mr Whitmore-Jones graciously sent a carriage to collect me from Cirencester station. Upon my arrival at Chastleton it was nightfall. I was resentfully rushed inside by the groundskeeper who took great care to tell me how late in the season it was and that Mr Whitmore-Jones is due home a week from now. Mother, I am so excited to meet him! Alas, I shall attempt to stifle my excitement with my letters to you.

The next morning I was made tea by one of the kitchen maids and was shown around by the miserable groundskeeper. This house is a labyrinth of secret rooms and passageways, with multiple staircases and a gallery full of Mr Whitmore-Jones’s collection of paintings and busts. I am sure that I will fit in here, Mother. The groundskeeper informed me that I am to stay in the snug Cavalier room. The walls are lined in a complex pattern of rose wallpaper, which looks rather wondrous! However, when I laid my bag down I saw a puckered scrape of the original wall where time had eradicated the paper. I fingered the loose parchment and watched as it disintegrated. I ran my hand across the harsh oak bed frame, where flecks of the wood submerged themselves within my palm. The groundskeeper assured me that I am the first inhabitant of the Cavalier Room since Mr Whitmore-Jones was announced the rightful owner. I hope that my stay here will prove to be rather wonderful, and if not it will not matter as I won't be gone for long!

Later that afternoon I was shown the grounds, which are entrapped by large shrubbery, with an intricate maze marking the centre of the gardens. The groundskeeper appeared rather excitable when we came to his rose garden. However this excitement soon turned to despair once he saw how the sharp air had bitten the petals from their buds and spat them upon the floor! I felt an acute pity for him and his dismissal of the winter. Mother this felt strange to me – our groundskeeper at Watlington Manor understands so much of the changing in season and never becomes disparaged by the wilting of his crop. The groundskeeper did not speak again unless it was to tell me of the history of the grounds or to complain of the bitter weather. We walked the entirety of the gardens until the night fell upon us.

Still, I am not quite sure as to why Mr Whitmore-Jones requested my presence so close to Christmas - perhaps he has heard of my talent with oils and hopes to add my work to his collection! Oh Mother, how wonderful would that be? Perhaps he will pay me handsomely and I may finally dedicate myself to artistry.

Your adoring Daughter,

Florence

LETTER II

1st December 1829

Dear Mother,

The sky has grown pregnant with white and grey, I'm sure it shall snow again soon. Chastleton has been coated with thick snowfall since I last wrote to you. On the first night of the snowfall I overheard the maids anxiously babbling about how early in the season it was for snow and that they do not think that Chastleton shall cope in these conditions– I can not say that I myself have been made anxious by this snowfall, I think it to be rather exciting! Although I do regret not asking Elizabeth to pack my warmer clothes. I am yet to fully understand the maids’ anxieties of Chastleton’s ability to withstand the winter, however as the days have rolled by it is becoming more apparent that it is in great need of a loving hand.

Last night on the west staircase I heard the furious cry of the Groundskeeper, protesting to a poor maid that Chastleton is in no position to allow guests– this made me ever so nervous and I rushed back to my room. Since my arrival at Chastleton I had noticed the derelict nature of the house, with the rooms coated in debris from the summer; there are even little birds nesting in the parlour, which I cannot bring myself to tell the groundskeeper about as I am sure they will meet their end. I have gone to great lengths to avoid the groundskeeper since last night.

During my days at Chastleton I have been resigned to sitting in front of the window and watching as the flakes turn the garden into a barren landscape of white. Unfortunately, the maids refuse to let me use my oils, over fear that I shall create some sort of unfixable mess! Otherwise I would take great pleasure in painting the trees that have been kissed with frost and the lawn that sits idly under the untouched blanket of twinkling snow. My candle illuminates the growing iciness upon the window pain as I sit and write this letter to you! There is something remarkably calming in the stillness of winter. Yet, I have become agitated by the impending nature of the spring – it stirs a fear within me that I am unable to place.

I have heard nothing of Mr Whitmore-Jones’s whereabouts. In vain I have tried to pull information about him from the maids, yet they refuse to speak of him. I think they have decided to keep me at a distance from them, as they retreat whenever I enter a room.

How are you and father? I do hope that you are well and that I shall hear back from you soon! I long for when I will be back with you again.

Your loving Daughter,

Florence

LETTER III

7th December 1829

Dear Mother,

I am restless at your absence, Is there a reason as to why you do not respond? I am sure there is a delay due to the snow but my heart longs to hear from you.

Since I last wrote to you I have found this insatiable urge rising within me to clean, as if I were a housemaid! I lay awake at night preoccupied with thoughts of dirt lining my nails and debris piling on the floor. The walls breathe iciness upon my skin as I feverishly clean this house in preparation for Mr Whitmore-Jones’ return. My days have become obsessive and tiresome at the sheer magnitude of work that Chastleton requires. Yesterday, during one of these fits of cleaning, the parlour became encapsulated by a rotten, festering aroma. The scent trickled down my throat which my body rejected as I violently wretched. I found the perpetrator of the odour whilst cleaning the fireplace. Underneath the cobweb ridden logs I made out the cream plumage of one of my house sparrows. I threw the logs into the centre of the parlour to reach her rotting body. As I picked up her wilted frame I felt her twitch and writhe as maggots pierced their way from her insides. Oh mother how horrid it was! I screeched as I saw them burrow out of her and retreated to my chamber. Yet this incessant urge within me to clean brought me back to her body. I held the poor thing in my palm and wept. I took her into the garden and buried her in the snow. Mother I do not know if I shall cope if that same fate falls upon the other sparrows!

My distance from Mr Whitmore-Jones upsets me so, as I believe he became quite fond of me. Mother, do you remember those lovely letters he would send me over the summer? I can still picture the crimson crested wax seal and the beautiful twine he would bind them in. He was enthralled at the mere idea of me visiting Chastleton– yet, where is he now? Still the maids refuse to tell me of his whereabouts and I am still forcing a distance between myself and the groundskeeper out of fear that he detests me! In fact, Mother, I haven’t seen anyone in days– The maids retreated with the growth of the snowfall, so I have been left to clean and long for Mr Whitmore-Jones to return.

I do hope to hear from you soon!

Your worried Daughter,

Florence

LETTER IV

8th December 1829

Dear Mother,

I know it has only been hours since my last letter – yet, nights at Chastleton cause me to question what I know to be true. At night the house eradicates my tender hours of labour. It toys with my spirit and forces me to start anew in the morning. My slumber is interrupted almost nightly, as of yet I do not know what it is, but there is a damp warmth in the air that suffocates my dreams.

Last night, in the haze of my dream, a thick dampness fell upon my chest, expelling the air from my lungs. I felt a gouging asphyxiation trickle down my body. I yelped as it curled up on my stomach causing my abdomen to gurgle and throb. My mind has become forgetful since my arrival; so I began to question if I were still in that lucid dream I had only encountered mere moments before, or if this horror was truly happening. My abdomen relentlessly groaned as my thoughts became wilder. I retreated from the Cavalier room, forcing myself down the west staircase to the Old Kitchen. A kitchen maid fixed a cup of tea to ease my mind and the pain eventually subsided. I told her at length of the damp horror that torments me so, and a brief glimmer of terror shone in her eyes. She held me as I walked back to the Cavalier room. The maid urged me to not only return to my slumber but to not tell the other maids of this damp horror.

This morning when I woke my chambermaid had drawn a bath for me. I thought this to be quite wonderful as the water was lusciously perfumed and warm. It reminded me of the baths Elizabeth would run for me! My hands began to shake as I worked the soap bar into my damp skin. I attempted to hold myself still and hoped that the stillness would rid the events of last night from my mind. The shaking softened and momentarily I felt as if I had never left Watlington. I felt as if I were only twelve and Elizabeth had run my sunday bath, the scent of freshly baked bread flitted about my nose. I lazily opened my eyes and continued to scrub at my skin. A hue of deep red sat tauntingly underneath the milky film of bath water. I jumped from the bath and this is when I saw the talons of the night marked upon my skin. The lacerations buried into my abdomen right where I had felt that terrible pang! I ran my fingers over the scratches, my skin rising where the ripping had taken place. I dressed quickly so that the chambermaid would not see my mangled form. I fear that the maids know more about Chastleton than they seem; Mother, there must be some awful secret they are hiding from me – something so ghastly and vile that lurks through the halls. This is why they have kept me at a distance, surely Mother? I am fearful to sleep again tonight in case the labourious pain rises again and I become a more mangled form of myself in the morning.

Your frightful Daughter

Florence

LETTER V

10th December 1829

Dear Mother,

The house has once again spat out all of the hours of labour that I have so tenderly afforded it. The grime oozes by night and the putrid odour of the little sparrow haunts my nose, inspiring an acute nausea to overcome me. The great parlour I once spent my days sat in has become littered with grime and sparrow excrement. The chill of the winter beckons me to retire from my insatiable cleaning; yet that same urgency grows and becomes unrelenting at the absence of Mr Whitmore-Jones. The longer he is kept from me the larger my desire to cleanse this house becomes. Upon my arrival the groundskeeper said he shall only be gone for a week– and how long have I been at this house now Mother – with nothing but cleaning and torment to pass the time!

I have thought about slipping away into the night, leaving Chastleton and never returning. However I lack transport and the journey is far too dangerous on foot, especially in this bitter winter. The silence of Mr Whitmore-Jones causes a scepticism to writhe within me. I fear I do not know when he shall come back to Chastleton, or if he shall come at all. I have tried in vain to find the groundskeeper and confront him about the whereabouts of Mr Whitmore-Jones but he has become ellusive. I see his figure in the gardens, traipsing large wheelbarrows from one place to another, but in the thick of the winter I do not understand his exertion, as surely there is nothing left to do?

In this isolation you must think that I have become hysterical, but this is all true! Mother, this house– it breathes with me– these walls like damp flesh that hold my body here. I do not know when I shall be able to see you again.

I still await your response – Mother, if you receive this letter please send our carriage to Chastleton so that I may come home!

Your nervous Daughter,

Florence

LETTER VI

12th December 1829

Dear Mother,

The damp torment that woke me many nights ago has metamorphosed into a curious, childlike anguish. Last night my chambermaid dressed me for bed and I fell into a deep slumber. I awoke to the curious patter of footsteps outside my room. I am the only inhabitant of Chastleton during Mr Whitmore-Jones’ absence, aside from the maids but they continue in their aloofness. The haphazard pounding of feet manifested outside my door. The beating of my heart rang in my ears. I swung the door back and a sharp chill hit my body. There was no being that explained the sound, I was met with the emptiness that I have grown accustomed to. I turned myself back to my slumber when a faint patter of feet echoed down the west staircase. I lit my candlestick in the fireplace and cautiously followed. The floorboards of the hall creaked with my impending steps. The groaning almost caused the patter that woke me to become indistinguishable. The familiar gripping pain penetrated my abdomen but I continued down the stairs, clutching at my already bleeding body. The echo faded as I entered the ground floor. I searched every room on the ground floor in vain, yet the purporator of my dream was nowhere to be found. I began to feel faint at my loss of blood and, to my own recollection, collapsed.

This morning I awoke in the Cavalier room and the scratches that had sunk deep into my skin were gone. There was no sign of blood on my nightgown that I had only clutched to my skin hours earlier. My candlestick sat back in the holder, its wick white as if a flame had never touched it. I grasped the wax stick and threw it into the fireplace. I caught sight of my deterioration in the mirror. My once plump cheeks concave, a grey tinge takes over my skin. Only my hair remains somewhat similar to the girl that entered Chastleton. My frame has been decimated with bruises and frailty bites at my bones. In my inspection of myself in the mirror, my abdomen began to bulge. Something groans and writhes within me, something most horrid and detestable. I fear it is too repulsive to imagine. Mother, I do not remember how I got back to the Cavalier room last night but I feel my condition worsen as I write this to you! The maids must not find out about this thing that thrashes inside me. I weep once more as I do not believe that you are receiving these letters, this house intercepts all of my desire and destroys it.

— Florence

LETTER VII

20th December 1829

Dear Mother,

My cleaning of this house has become relentless – every waking hour I feel the filth creep between my fingers and burrow its way into my mind. I wash my hands until I feel them crack yet the muck stains my palms. My sparrows have passed away, their little bodies pile in the fireplace by night and cause the most foul odour to hang in the air. My condition worsens with the hour as the cancerous thing grows inside me. I have asked my chambermaid, the only one of the maids who still allows herself to come near me, to discharge herself temporarily until Mr Whitmore-Jones returns. I am too fearful of her seeing the wreck I have become. I only leave the Cavalier room to clean or eat in the parlour.

My appetite has become engorged and peculiar; the smell of my once favourite pheasant causes my mind to reanimate the detestable stench of the rotting sparrows. The grotesque rot hangs in the air and suffocates my mind. Only the sweetest treacle keeps this rising hunger satisfied. My mouth salivates as I write this letter and think of the thick tar dribbling down my throat. I have taken to teaching myself how to cook in the dead of night, when the maids have retreated to the opposite side of Chastleton.

Last night the hunger awoke me. I hauled this growing form to the Old Kitchen. I felt the tumorous entity writhe within me as I began to crack eggs upon the cast iron contraption. The transparent slime hissed as the heat ate away at its clarity. My sweat-ridden hands furiously opened a jar of treacle. I grasped a spoon from the counter and heaped the syrup upon the spoon. I threw it upon the eggs, where the blackened treacle bubbled and curdled with the eggs. I heard the familiar patter of feet echoing down the west staircase. This sound startled me and the jar slipped from my grasp. It shattered, spreading treacle and fragments of glass across the stone floor. My body contorted and I fell to my knees, shovelling handfuls of the treacle into my mouth. The concoction scratched as I swallowed it down. I felt a frenzy overcome me as I consumed the mixture. My body convulsed as I coughed and blood sprayed across the Old Kitchen tiles. The patter became louder as the thing tore down the stairs. I sprang back, a chill of terror gripping my body. The wretch inside me squirmed with the rising sound of footfall. The door to the Old Kitchen swung back and a figure stood in the doorway. I felt my chambermaid grasp my shoulder. She pleaded for me to follow her. I obeyed and ran with her through the groundskeeper’s room, through the pantry and the Old Dairy. The incessant patter rang in my mind as we clambered up the east staircase. My chamber maid forced me through a door that the groundskeeper emitted showing me on that very first day here. Through the door was a narrow pathway, with a slanted wall that took up most of the space the room had to offer. On the floor was a mattress and a singular lit candle. My chambermaid encouraged me to lay still on the makeshift bed where I fell, once again, into a deep sleep.

– Florence

[cosmicpeony]

almond tea cake

cw: depressive episode

prologue:

in urdu, there are maybe dozens of words to describe light. 

the word noor, for example, describes the light in someone’s face. 

joie de vivre— the life, and the radiance.

i used to think it was just a flowery word— just poetry— until that august, when all the noor disappeared from my face 

and i was lost.

—

interlude:

those months felt like a daze. 

in the violent sea of my thoughts, i clung to a makeshift raft. 

clouds shrouded my vision, and armor protected my heart. 

nothing could get through, good or bad; i prayed for the storm to end.

but like errant beams of light, kindness managed to peek through.

—

during this time, my grandfather was the one person who never gave up on me.

(that is not to say that my friends did not try their best

and, after all, my parents were the ones burdened with the task of dragging me out. 

day in and day out, the sisyphus to my boulder). 

when i visited, my grandfather would take a look at my face. 

he would go quiet. 

and then he would offer me sweets, or a story— two of my favorite things as a child. 

i cracked a weak smile, and politely refused.

(later, my mother tells me: 

your grandfather would cry on the phone, after you left. 

what has happened to my granddaughter? the light has gone out in her face. 

what will i do?)

—

interlude:

the storm spat me onto an island, and dissipated. 

i basked in the sun for the first time in months, and i let it warm my bones. 

and then, i decided to build myself a boat; i would not survive on the raft, not for any longer. 

i inhaled the salty air— exhaled the bones— and got to work.

—

months later in the spring, i went back to visit my grandfather. 

once again, he studied my face. 

he paused. 

and he offered me a cup of warm tea and a plate of petite almond sponge cakes.

i smiled, and i picked one up. 

i took one bite. 

and then another. 

i ate one, and then i ate another. 

and i smiled again.

(to this day, i can’t find the words to describe the relief i saw in him. 

but i can tell you he shoved the entire box, still almost entirely full, in my hands as i was leaving. 

and i can tell you another two boxes were waiting for me the next time i came. 

how precious my smile must have been to him, to evoke such a response?)

—

this is how the day passed: the sun peeked through the windows, warming my bones. 

my grandfather offered me another sweet cake, and another story. 

and guided by the sound of his voice, i finally sailed home.

fin.

[wbwoqlqxoxxms]

Yishun Revengers Episode 10 "Good thing I don't have Alzheimer's"

"Good thing I don't have Alzheimer's,"

-Good thing I don't have Alzheimer'

“First up on the list…why the hell did you attack us?” Fentanyl's eyes glowed that same ominous red again, although this time everyone knows it's entirely for show now.

The masked man stayed silent.

“Playing the quiet game huh? Ready for another round of interrogation?” Sicarius whipped out her knife and twirled it around her palm again.

“I'm asking you again. Why the hell did you attack us?” Fentanyl folded his arms and asked again in a harsher tone, his eyes glowing brighter red than before.

Again they were met with the same reaction.

“Alright, that's it, no more mister nice guy! I'm-” Sicarius swiftly held her knife to the masked man's neck and pressed it there as tightly as she was annoyed with his silence.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sano's bellowing voice echoed through the chamber of terribly inefficient use of space, as he rushed through the vast emptiness with one hand up and the other on his hip, panting hard.

“I was spending a bit of time…observing this man's…um, plants, and I realised something about them seems oddly familiar,” He explained, as if that vague description is supposed to help anybody.

Sicarius and the rest narrowed their eyes, the knife being pressed even harder against the masked man's skin to cause it to bleed now.

“Elaborate.” She said with a straight face.

Sano didn't respond to her, but instead knelt down before the masked man, crystallised a card of pure gold light from in between his fingers and levitated it in his palm before the man.

“I believe you should recognise this,” He spoke cryptically, then allowed the gold light to slowly vanish and fade out.

To reveal a simple card design-ironically, much simpler than the other fancy card powers Sano's shown before, consisting of only a white background and a triangular-like stain of black ink onto it.

A simple design, it was-and yet the reaction it garnered was not simple at all. It would seem this simple card design succeeded in doing what a knife to his throat and two giant beatings couldn't-get a reaction from the masked man that wasn't complete silence.

A reaction of shock, even-for under that mask it was clear his eyes widened at least a bit. He made a bit of an incoherent noise somewhere in between a gasp of surprise and a gasp of terror.

The Pillars weren't completely oblivious to this, either-Sicarius stared at the card, then at Sano, then back at the card again.

Fentanyl, Mendax, and Laju did the same.

Pertama and Sunda watched from the sidelines, folding their arms and smirking slightly together with Stefen, Ming and Luna.

Oh, August and Codeine? They're only the Pillars' disciples, they don't really know as much as the actual Pillars themselves, so obviously no reaction...at least, they don't know more than they're supposed to know...OR DO THEY??

“...what's going on?” Stefen made that weird face you'd probably never expect someone whose entire career depends on asking questions to make.

“Eh, I'll explain later,” Sunda brushed his question aside for now.

Of course Luna was back to petting Little Whitey without a care in the world again.

“This card…” The masked man spat out with a surprisingly clear and soothing voice, like he was recording an audiobook or something.

Sano continued levitating it in front of him, anticipating his reaction.

“You…you've seen him before? You've made contact with him before?”

“...yes. As you've probably already guessed by now, he's the one who gave me these powers,”

“...I actually attacked you because I needed the Demongazer's blood, since that boy recently got turned into one,”

Stefen sat up in his chair while Ming gaped his mouth open. “How the hell did…” “He get him to talk?”

“Shh…I'l explain later, ok,” Sunda shut them up once again.

Fentanyl jumped into action excitedly, as Sicarius retreated the now-unnecessary knife.

“Finally…ahem. Now for my second question..what the hell were you using the Demongazoo's blood for?”

“To devise a medicine…capable of curing…him,”

“Cure…him? You know that's impossible,”

To that the masked man turned his head away, insinuating breaking eye contact, since he can't show it normally since he's…well…wearing a mask…

“Alright, alright, that's enough playing the all-mysterious game now! Someone needs to explain to me what the hell is going on!” Stefen jumped up from his seat and shouted to break the awkward tension of silence.

“Ugh…” Mendax let out a loud groan and turned to Sunda, who looked at him with a face and sighed too.

“Stefen, mister, how long have you got?”

[coolnightmarerunaway]

June 7, 2023

January 1 to February 22 =52 days? Okay, 50. He was being a baby and got Daryl to get me to go over to talk to him.

April 24 - 37+7=44

Day #44

Last two days mind wonders on him. I'm not sure why. So now I look up how long it takes to no longer care. 30-60-90 days

This is a different situation seeing how we are in the same social circle. He sent three people to talk to me. He has tried to talk three times. He once invaded my space to pet a guy's dog.

I have run into him for about 9 days in a row. He tried to speak with me on the first day.

He apparently told others he made a mistake but hasn't said anything of the kind to me.

One guy he sent to me started inquiring. I told him Ray and I have been having conflict for a long time. In my opinion, it needs to end.

Before Ray tried to kill me with my head injury, he was trying to start arguments. He would send female bashing videos. I asked why he continuously sent derogatory material. He didn't get the argument he was looking for.

He and I have been in so many spats, I would literally have to look at our conversation to know what he was doing and when.

I came across something that said to "get over" relationship you have to allow a week for every month 🤨 I'm not sure how to calculate this, as we have had numerous separations due to him trying to argue with me on a monthly basis. I'm not even sure when we started hanging around. I think it was 2021 sometime in the summer 🤔 came across something else that said 11 weeks. Ray pulled his stunt on April 24th. A few days later, after somebody made contact with me on his behalf, I sent a message to show my appreciation 😃 Obviously I didn't get a response.

So June (?) 2021 to April 2023. 22 months = 22 weeks? Seems excessive. If I subtract January 1st to February 22nd (20.5 months) we didn't speak for the month of June (19.5 months) Argument in the month of July, another argument in August, and I'm not quite sure where it went from there 😆

Even after 52 days of separation, we ended up right back at square one. In fact I can't remember if it was the end of February or sometime in March he weaseld his way into my house. That was this year.. by April 11 2023 I addressed his degrading material. April 24th with my head injury, he saw an opportunity to inflict chaos, and he took it. He couldn't get an argument out of me, so he went to different route.

I guess I'm looking at something like 20 months. We are on week 7 of 20🤨🤔 No freaking way.

Every time he and I start communicating, it gets harder and harder to speak with him. We keep going back 🤨

The man definitely has narcissistic qualities. He is reminiscent of my ex-boyfriend. He never does anything wrong. Even if you catch the man red-handed, it wasn't him. He is toxic as fuck and he tells people lies about me.

I was just searching the conversation, it seems in October 2022 I told him I missed a party because I wasn't an ignorant cunt. He attends parties of people he criticizes. He seemingly likes to look down on the people he hangs out with.

I don't understand how he and I continue to mingle again. It's absolutely not logical. There should be a kill switch for feelings in such situations.

We started communicating primarily because of covid and covid restrictions. He was completely against the vaccines. Oddly enough when the vaccine passports came out this man was still getting into bars and restaurants. I asked him how he was doing that without a covid passport. I never did get an answer. He also happened to mention that his brother was lying about his vaccinated status. Several bikers were lying about their vaccine status. Because "not getting vaccinated was cooler" than telling everybody you got vaccinated. Imagine claiming to be anti-authority, while getting down on your knees 😆

A while back he was sending me QAnon videos. That used to tick me off. I kept telling him Qanon is not reliable. Only recently did I discover he really believes these QAnon theories. I knew he was running with the nanobots, only one person ever said they spotted nanobots in the vaccine. I pointed out on multiple occasions if it were true other people would have found them by now. Much like the blood clots. Tons of people have reported massive blood clots in the Dead. While having a disease where "no symptom is a symptom" is a massive joke. This man believed covid was not real. If it is real or not, I don't have a dog in that fight. Although I do consider it strange

June of last year while I was dealing with family situation, brother had a heart attack and such. This man thought it was highly appropriate to engage in sexual conversation with two whores that walked across the parking lot and jumped in his rig like they were his best friend.

First year I met him, he complained I didn't take pictures of people. This man constantly wanted to pose for pictures. Less than a year later he is complaining he might be in one of my picture but yet he poses for pictures all over the place, all the time.

He once dragged me to his favorite hangout location. He hopped out of the rig interrupting conversation between two people, stuck his head in the truck like an ignorant fuck disrupting the conversation between the other people. This left me to converse with the other fellow. Ray for 2 or 3 times he continuously brought up the situation incorrectly. I corrected him every single time. Gaslighting fucker.

I addressed the fact that he was attempting to gaslight me in October 2022.

So very many disputes with this man.

June 7, 2023

[bigmoneypastelhalloween]

I wonder if the chronology of my last post is coherent enough...

Missing context:

In summer 2010 just after the g20 riots i moved to toronto with veña and simon, we got the cheapest 3 bedroom we could find, it was "above the 401" as they say, the hinterlands. Veña and i moved in first and smoked salvia in the empty apartment, simon got there a month later. I got a job at a queen street headshop after a couple months, hand of god given that i dropped off 5 resumes total and spent all day every day blogging and agonizing over where i could get decent weed and how to afford more. leni moved in that fall, originally sharing a room with simon but there was conflict and she switched to veña's room. Holding pattern while i make connections thru work and hang out with coworkers. By the new year we're rolling again, we're going to dj nights, etc. The manager at work changes when 50k of legal highs disappear. Martin, who i know from uvic, moved in may or june of 2011. We all ended up on 2cb or some research chem near-analog, i was supposed to have mdma for us but the batch sold as, was later confirmed to be 2csomething via the dealers gf postfacto. Immediately martin got us househunting and within a few weeks we saw a bunch of places and then moved from 2441 finch west to 114 finch east i guess starting in august because we had a big summer moving in party. Leni and veña were on speed and i told them not to jook up with this undergrad they knew but they did anyway. The kid and their friends hung around all summer wondering when we'd actully be fun. The kid figured out martin was the fun one and got mad at veña for liking their ex better. The kid is lux. Lux starts talking to martin about metal instead of veña. Halloween '11 is a 0 degree night out of nowhere and we're at a bridge show martin has a reading at, after going to a party at my store managers place with lux, which sucks so bad lux bails for the night. Someone does a callout of a stylistic choice in martins work and things sort of derail. Martin wants us to play defense, which turns things into a popularity contest, and martin would win going strictly by defender numbers, 4 v 1 ("your network is your networth") except because the girl and her friend who are complaining about martins story have more metal attached to their clothes martin is ashamed of our bad optics. This foreshadows much to come. I lose my job by being more and more of an insane mess and go on employment insurance. Yule 2011 I went back to bc with my fiance garrett who was living in boston working on his phd in psychology. I spent that easter doing k and acid with lux. In march 2012 i had what garrett said was a psychotic break.

Martin moved out may of 2012. I went to panama to teach the primatology class at a field school for 2 sessions from june to august. I got assaulted by a coworker, martin was the only person i told from home who took the position that i was being unreasonable. I got my septum done in bocas del toro, it was a body-ownership move as much as a memento of the place; Ive never stopped wearing a ring in my nose since then, ive even gauged up a bit. I got garrett a ticket to panama, he moved into the house with us after we got back from panama together, he still had to write and defend his thesis. 2012 we had a big vegan house party for yuletime. A few days before that was the big mayan calendar failpocalypse, i spent it writing on 2ce. Somewhere in there i got into a facebook spat with martin over veña, and got blocked. New year 2013 i got a job i'd written a preholiday rush cover for, at a headshop really close to the house, at yonge and steeles. Worked there 5 months, ran into another coworker issue. General workplace friction with the whole vibe of working for GoT fan ancaps in the legal high/weed paraphernalia business. 2nd verse same as the first. I started spending more time with lux because they were the most sympathetically in tune with my rage about the panama situation and my sorrow about the state of the world, and i ended up going with them and nat to meet suzy for the first time that spring after end of session at u of t when she was moving out of the student res that a few years later got closed for being uninhabitably damaged. Suzy gave me a hundred or so caps of name brand dexedrine as a parting gift. Blast off.

Right at the time things were melting down at work again martin told the others about moving back to the city. It triggered a midtier manic episode but i was also on long speed jags at that time, it all coalesced. I left martin a letter in the paper tray of the copier they wanted to pick up. A month or so later they came to the house, probably while i was at the fort. Id started hooking up with lux after doing speed at a backyard show there and they were insanely demanding after that. (I met nix spring 2013, at one of the fort shows that happened during that time.) When i got back everyone said martin had spent the whole time trying to get them to shit talk me and itd been pretty awkward. Leni said she saw martin find my letter and disgustedly throw it away. Emma came over and we all unloaded about how martin was being so bizarre after moving out. But then simon decided to move out. I asked them to give me my first stiknpoke before leaving and they gave me a division symbol on my wrist. Lux was squeezing someone out of the fort at that time, the house founder in fact, and needed someone they could stand, on short notice, to take over a large share of the rent, so they used emotional leverage and got me to bail on veña and leni. I was almost out of money and my big plan was to go on welfare for the first time after moving to the fort.

I left in july to go hitchhiking with lux, who wanted to chase their remaining roommates to a grindcore festival in bc and basically make sure people werent just sitting around complaining about the coup that had actually scared off the house founder and her bestie, so the rent situation was tenuous and being held down by the mom of this guy ryan who lived there and had spent 3 or 6 months in prison for being a g20 rioter, he got beaten every day by guards and left with crippling depression. He was dating someone from another collective house who was in bc waiting for fastcore with nat already because they'd trainhopped and made it the whole way thru ontario in 2 days. I got my first smartphone so i could document the trip and i started a new facebook, maybe i was hoping my sudden metamorphosis into someone with a punk name would register to martin and theyd add my new account and we'd talk. We go to mtl to visit nix and bug at death church; bug had moved out of the fort before luxs coup. We doubled back quickly and then headed north. I got my 2nd stiknpoke from lux outside wawa (infamous hitching black hole), a bong. Lux and i got lucky with a 2 day ride across the praries in a dodge charger after a week in north ontario. We met cassidy and her gf at the time in edmonton, & after a few days there we got over to vancouver where we met up with ryan who said he was there to try to find shrew because theyd had a fight. He said some bad consent stuff happened, after we'd been hanging out for a day (lux loved him) and lux and i nervous laughed & called shrew who said to lose ryan and get up to squamish. We caught up with nat and shrew, eventually linked up with nat and shrews lost travel crew....and an old roommate of luxs named natalie who had gone from plur to acab in the same space of time as lux had. (All very coincidental im sure.) Remember natalie. In squamish i gave myself a mans ruin stiknpoke while we hung out at the skatepark, beautiful day. After fastcore we bummed around vancouver a couple days before lux got their guardian angel cj to buy them a bus ticket because they were cranky from bin-diving giving them food poisoning and all their internet friends we'd met turning out to be normie libs (no one wanted to lay pipe). I spend my last cash on a ticket for myself. Greyhound still runs cross country in 2013. Garrett and i move in to the fort right as nat and lux hitch to mtl together to visit nix. Shrew was still living at george street, i think doug was trying to get them to stay there at the time but all the guys there were saying ryan was a good guy and we were all totally willing to kick ryan out whether shrew moved in or not. I dont know where he was at this time, but based on the stimulator screening we went to with him back in van, he hadnt even noticed being leftcoast famous for getting arrested until that outing, and there were a lot more warm welcomes to make a tour of before trying to talk to shrew again. He was all set up at a well known collective house by the pne grounds.

So garrett and i were actually alone at the fort with shrews miniscule cat beez for a couple weeks before anyone came back. I was on my way to shrew and ryans first face to face over at g street, on my bike, and got arrested because a cop said i spit on him. He said some got on his shoe. I got cuffed and ticketed but they let me go. I missed the thing with ryan and no one at g street found getting arrested remarkable. I went home to the fort and garrett found it so remarkable that he dumped me. I spent the next three months crying at sammy yatim demos and police hearings and watching tv in bed or having last chance sex. During this time lux and nat were trying to find more renters and this runaway kid who'd been having trouble at another house moved in, along with a street artist the others knew from around. As soon as garrett was gone at the start of December 2013, nat and i took a bus across the border and started hitching to IDA in Tennessee so they could tell us how to make an effective collective house. We learned that everyone needs their own house and its normal for people to go years within a community not talking to eachother. We got back and the street artist and shrew were at it with eachother. I got a tattoo from her anyway, in the living room. On her birthday we all go to a soup kitchen, martin is there with a bunch of shrews old friends. We're weird and avoidant of one another, i decide to let martin say hi if they want to, they dont, more to it but whatever. Skip to, we tell birthday gal we need to find someone who is actually paying rent. She sets the house on fire. We put it out. Happy 2014.

Then came the business of kicking lux out for being a manipulative weirdo who turned out to be mad at natalie because natalie was like "the sex we had was not consensual, youre a rapist" and lux was just like "what a bitch can you believe this bitch" about it, and then also "technically i also raped my ex who veña always liked better" about it, too. So that was a mess. That winter and early spring are a blur, nat and shrew and i go to some parties. Doug moves in. Various other people move in and out. Random people are in and out all the time. I live in a closet, which i consider heaven. I take a bike repair class. Nat and i go to a party at emmas and i meet luke, its still cold old. I ask luke out but he seems uninvested and morbidly curious from the get go. Im morbidly curious myself once i realize that bug called this guy out over something and i recall that while lux and i were in edmonton lux defaced a bunch of his bands show flyers. I get a really cool bike via nat and start joyriding all over the city, im hoping kismet will kick in and I'll run into martin. Nat and shrew hear from shrews friends that martin lives on the eastside with them. Nat and shrew go to one of martins readings and i say be nice dont troll like you did at the soupkitchen in the winter. They troll worse, tell me all about it when they get home. It sounds like martin won them over by being mildmannered afterward but theyre not forthcoming about that part.

I think that kind of catches things up to where we were before...

I spent summer of 2014 living at the fort and hooking up with luke and a guy who lived at george street named chris. That year on my birthday i sprained both wrists doing a stupid bike stunt. That was the same day i applied to be a courier. Shrew and i got into a conflict over the runaway kid's whole deal and i decided to move out as soon as shrew said they were going to. They stayed, i left. I bused back to bc to regroup with the gang. First i met up with simon, who was hanging out with martins bestie a lot and thru an awkward series of events i ended up crashing at that persons place with them and their bf felix, even tho martins bestie was clearly terrified of me and couldnt understand why simon had brought me in the first place. Then i went to stay with veña and leni, who were living together at veña's moms place. We all did m during a bloodmoon watch and i accidentally outed some information leni had been withholding. Garrett and i kept meeting up and hooking up too, and he got annoyed that i wasnt making room for him in the veña/leni/me situation and left things on bad terms but later apologized. I kept trying to get them all to move back and get another place but the only one who was all in was leni, after the big reveal she felt like relocating would be more fun than staying and facing the music.

Over halloween we hitched from van to winnipeg to save money and bused the rest of the way. They broke up after she got to toronto with me. We stayed at emmas moms place for a month (nov 2014) while i started the courier job it turned out i'd had for weeks, and leni apartment hunted. Doing a good deed is remembered by the spirit of the city, and we found a cheap basement in the trinity-bellwoods area I'd flyered for the first sammy yatim response demo.

I kept working the courier job and one day leni and i ran into luke. He started crashing at our apartment because it was so close to the rehearsal factory. I started writing a summary of the lefty witch agenda as a thesis project for suzy because i had been relying on her counsel more and more since leaving the fort and i wanted to do something that might have some kind of tangible impact and ime she's a very talented witch, one of the most talented i know if not the most, so in her hands a document like that could go anywhere. Lord knows if she ever read it all. I remember she started it and was like you didnt cite so and so and i was like as far as i knew that was original, and its like ok well, she's seen it before. Collaged in with all the same other stuff, too, most likely. I think she thought my format choices were cute, anyway.

I stopped going to the courier job so i could work on my speedifesto full time. I spent new years 2015 on acid at a party on the eastside with a girl i was dating and leni and the girl she was dating. The night ended badly. I ruined things with the girl so many different times but having a self-obsessive bad trip while she wanted to have mindblowingly romantic sex instead, was a big one of the ruiny moments. She's happy now with someone who isnt stupid.

[dont-call-me-baby-posts]

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 11

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List

Word Count: 6.8K

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one where Harry is in love and you go to a karaoke bar.

A/N: Chapter 11 let's fuckin goooooo! Let me know what you guys think! 

Inspo for Christian’s song in this chapter is “Looking Out for You” by Joy Again.

Chapter 11

August 2019

Summer was in full swing, beating her fists down onto you without remorse. Summer was her hottest, bitchiest self this year, making LA feel even stuffier than it usually did. She had snuck up on you, turning Spring away before you even had the chance to notice. Most of the summer so far had been taken up with movie nights, visits from Layla, and debating with Bethany. The album had been pushed back to the fall or winter, you having won that battle in the end. You insisted that nothing you made right now would be worth putting out, and that it was more beneficial for everyone that you took some time away. Bethany strongly disagreed, telling you it was a mistake to stop now when you had so much momentum. You weren’t willing to compromise, though, for once in your life. All of the drama from the past few months aside, you had more than enough reason to want some time off after over a year of working nonstop. Things had happened so quickly for you, Bethany finally admitted, it was reasonable for you to be struggling to keep up. You were overworked and had never had even a moment to just sit back and enjoy how far you’d come.

Even though it had been almost 4 months since it had happened, you could still remember that morning after Harry had kissed you like it was yesterday. Your shirt smelled like him the next day, your bodies having spent the night pressed chest to chest on the living room floor. Once he left, you did as Logan commanded and had a long chat with Bethany about Christian and the statement and what you thought was the best move. It didn’t take long for that conversation to snowball, turning into all of the things that you hated about LA and fame and your record label. And Harry.

“I have to leave LA.” You told her. She hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, I can talk to the label and tell them to move your schedule around. We have that interview tomorrow at 10, but I’m sure we can postpone.”

You tried to interrupt, to tell her that she misunderstood you, but she was talking a mile a minute as always and you struggled to get a word in edgewise.

“We can free up the weekend, for sure. Or at least Saturday.” She continued. “Oh, you know what you should do? You should take a day and visit those friends of yours… you know… Lexi and Matt! You can take Logan with you.”

She was so excited by her genius idea that you didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d gotten their names wrong. You almost agreed and told her that that sounded great, and to purchase a pair of tickets back to St. Louis for that afternoon. You stopped yourself, though, standing your ground for the first time  since before you’d put out your first single.

“No, I mean I have to leave. Like, for good.” You corrected. Bethany spat out a laugh, her voice crackling in the receiver. When you didn’t join in, she stopped suddenly. “Or at least for a little while.”

“Are you out of your mind?” She asked. A little bit harsh, definitely, but it was understandable.

An hour later, once all of your various reasons and explanations had been offered up, Bethany finally broke. She promised she would talk to the label for you and see how far they could push everything back.

“I’m doing this because I love you, okay? But if I lose my job over this then I’m expecting you to put food on the table for my kids.”

Bethany didn’t have kids, but she insisted when you pointed that out that being a cat mom was “basically the same thing.” You got off the phone feeling strangely relieved. You were still mostly confused, angry, and broken, but the relief felt nice at least for a minute or two. You started packing your bags. You never did call Harry back that evening like you had promised.

And so you had taken a break. It turned out to be worthwhile, too, things being good when summer showed up, better than they had been in a long time. You felt almost like yourself again, only a shinier, more polished version. You started caring about the music again. And, most importantly of all, you started remembering why you had started all of this in the first place. It took you getting better to realize just how bad you had been. It wasn’t Harry’s fault, or yours, or Bethany’s. It wasn’t even really Christian’s fault, though he had been the one to finally push you off the deep end. It’s just the way things were. But you had come so far, and you were ready to get back to work and do it bigger and better than you ever had before. June kicked off a series of mind numbing meetings about timelines and “long term plans”, and by the time August rolled around you were all set. You were finally ready to start writing again as the nights grew shorter and the days unbearably warm.

The question now wasn’t whether or not you were ready to face LA. It was whether or not you were ready to face him.

Harry was in love. Not with you, obviously, but in love nonetheless. According to Logan, it was almost boring at this point how often Harry and the girl were spotted in public, leaving each others houses or attending a party or having dinner. Logan admitted regretfully that he really did seem happy, and you were trying your best to be happy for him, too, the way he’d asked. It was working so far, mostly, being happy for him. At least from a distance.

It had been a few months, and him and the girl were getting pretty serious by the sound of it. So serious, in fact, that the back of her head had even made an appearance in the corner of one of Harry’s few instagram photos. You had never been on his instagram, your subconscious reminded you, but it wasn’t a big deal.

You had stayed off of social media and had only spoken to Harry on rare occasion since you had left. As hard as it was to let go, you knew you would never get better unless you gave yourself some space from him. Your thoughts weren’t clear when he was around. There came to be a bittersweet understanding between the two of you. You weren’t in the right headspace to be in any sort of relationship and he had the opportunity to explore a potential spark with someone new. And that was okay.

The two of you had talked about it a few days after you’d arrived at your parents house. You were sitting at the dinner table when your phone rang.

“I have to go, Harry Styles is calling me,” you joked to your mom, who waved you hurriedly to answer. She had no idea what had gone in between you, and you tried to keep it that way. You made the same jokes you always did, for her sake, even though it tore you a part little by little every time you did. Your mom had driven you and Logan to every One Direction show you’d been too and no matter how many times you mentioned him she always got a kick out of you being his friend. She teased you about when you’d bring him home to meet her, saying you must be afraid he’d fall in love with her and she’d be forced to leave your father or else you would have introduced them already. “He was always my favorite,” she reminded you at every mention of his name. You couldn’t deny they way it stung when she said that, but you managed a smile every time. You rose from your seat, quickly making your way up the stairs to your old room. You were nearly out of earshot when you heard your dad’s voice in the background.

“Harry Styles… Is he the Irish one?”

You and Harry talked for a long time that night, your dinner growing cold on the kitchen table. It was easier to tell him everything, from the beginning, without having to see his face. Harry asked you over and over to come back, to stay at his place while you figured everything out. He wouldn’t try anything, he swore incessantly, he just needed to see you. It took every fiber of your being to tell him that you couldn’t. Eventually, the conversation came to a close. You weren’t sure if you really were doing what was best for you or if you were self-sabotaging your chances of having everything you ever wanted. The sting was still fresh, the kiss still lingering on your lips. Everything was just too messy right now to make sense of anything. You exchanged goodbyes, deciding to throw in your usual “I love you” at the end. It was still true, no matter what had happened. He said it back, once and then twice and then three times. Once more he begged you to come back “home”. You promised you would be back soon.

“Hey, before you go, can I ask a massive favor?” You said at the last minute. You laughed nervously.

“Of course,” he had said, “anything.”

“Could you, uh, FaceTime my mom? She really loves you and she won’t get off my back about the whole “when do I get to meet Harry Styles” thing, so…”

Harry let out a laugh. It was like a lightning strike through your body, like it had been years since you’d heard that wonderful sound. All there had been lately was yelling and crying and strained conversations. The sound of it made you consider flying back to LA, for just a split second.

“I would love to,” he said. You knew he meant it.

“Mom I have a surprise for you!” You yelled as you returned downstairs. Your mom looked up at you over the rim of her reading glasses. You turned your phone screen towards her to reveal Harry in all of his curly haired, green eyed glory. She gasped, taking the phone from your hand. You had purposely avoided looking at the screen once he had popped up, only catching a quick glance. Harry was in bed, hair messy and eyes swollen and tired.

Your mom scolded you for not warning her, using your middle name and everything, before apologizing to Harry that she was in her ‘jammies’. You listened from the kitchen as they spoke, picking at your uneaten dinner. Harry was charming, funny, and kind. You hated how it made your heart swell. You imagined a world where you actually did bring him home to meet your parents. He could spend the holidays with you, your mom neatly placing the perfectly wrapped presents under the tree, the tags on top labeled “Harry”. You imagined a world where he was yours, all yours, and you were his.

Your mother told him all about the first One Direction concert she’d taken you to, the one where you were sat all the way up in the nosebleeds, and how you’d cried all the way home after it was over. She told him about the posters you had on the wall, and how you and Logan used to argue about who would get which ones to hang in their room. “Logan was more of a Zayn girl back then, but I’ve been a Harry girl from the start,” she told him. Harry was cracking up, insisting that he would make sure she was front row next time he was in town. She told him she’d hold him to it. Your dad jokingly told Harry to ease up on the sweet talk, leaning into the frame only to be quickly pushed away by your mom.

“He’s just a friend, Harry, I swear!” Your mom yelled through her laughter. Your dad shook his head with a smile. You smiled too as you turned the corner into the room to watch them. You stood there, out of sight, admiring how after so long your mom and dad were still so in love. You hoped silently that you would have what they had someday.

You decided to cut your mom off before she said anything else. You took the phone, rushing back upstairs as your mom yelled at Harry to come see her soon. He promised that he would. Once the door was shut behind you, you looked back at the screen, unsure what to say.

“Sorry about that.” You decided, not being able to help the embarrassed giggle that followed your words.

“S’no problem.” He said. “Logan was a Zayn girl, huh?”

You both laughed softly, making your forget for an instant what had gone on between you. Harry yawned, and you told him you’d let him get some sleep.

Your conversations following that were few and far between. You missed him, desperately, but managed to keep your resolve when it came to giving yourself space. You talked here and there about how his recording was going or how much fun you were having with Layla, Max, and Logan. (Logan had joined you back home, staying with her parents just a few minutes down the road). Weeks went by this way, comfortable and peaceful. Things were starting to seem okay between the two of you, no matter how much the sound of his voice still made you chest ache, just the tiniest bit.

///

In the midst of all of this, Christian’s album had come out. It did well, really well actually, much to Bethany’s dismay. Bethany had quickly joined you and Logan’s crusade against Christian following your meeting with the label just before you left town.

“He better not show his face around here because it’ll strangle that son of a gun! I mean it!”

Your team did what they could, putting out some statement telling the world that you’d been “attacked”. The media was in a frenzy, obviously, but it eventually blew over as these things always do. It worked in his favor, people listening on Spotify and Apple Music to see what he had to say for himself. Which wasn’t much of anything at all, apparently. Christian never did make his own statement, either. You tried not to spend too much time wondering why not.

You hadn’t listened to the album, having been too focused on mending more important things. There came a night, though, after you and Logan had finished eating an entire tub of cookie dough that an idea was had.

“Maybe we should listen to it.” You said. Your stomach hurt from all the sugar you’d consumed but you continued to sip from a half empty bottle of wine the two of you were sharing. Logan raised an eyebrows at you. You both sat in Logan’s childhood bedroom back home, the walls around you still painted a soft lavender color.

“Oh my god, should we?” She asked, already pulling it up on the TV she had mounted on her wall. It was small and cheap, the same one her parents had gotten her for Christmas years before. You both had big, fuzzy blankets wrapped around your shoulders and slipper socks on your feet. It was a proper slumber party, back in the city where it had all started. And the perfect setting to finally face Christian again.

The first track began playing, his voice flooding the room. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Oh my god, ew.” Logan said, immediately muting the TV. “I can’t.”

You spit out the wine that you’d just taken into your mouth, spraying it all over the soft purple fabric of your blanket.

“Play it!” You urged her, your curiosity officially peaking. 

She turned the volume back up, and you both suffered through the first four tracks. You were making jokes the entire time, making fun of the way his voice sounded or the shitty ukulele he snuck into every song. The fifth song began, of course, with another ukulele riff. You both had agreed to take a sip of wine every time he said something stupid, or embarassing, or infuriating. The bottle was almost empty already, sitting between you on the floor. You listened intently to the lyrics, wondering aloud what it was about this album that Christian hadn’t wanted you to hear the last time you had asked him about it. You ears perked up during this track, noticing something.

“Is this….” You began, a tipsy giggle escaping from your lips.

“About you?” Logan answered. “Uh huh.”

You listened to the song again, and then again, and then one more time. By the last time it finished, you were both dancing around the dark room, the only light coming from the TV screen. What would have been devastating a few months ago you now found funny, your gut hurting from laughing so hard. You both mocked him as he sang.

“Maybe I should stop… Looking out for you!” Logan hiccuped. “Like I always do!”

“When will you start looking out for me, too? Instead of leaving me staring at myyyy shoes!”

It was hilarious how delusional he sounded. He continued, singing his sad story about unrequited love and the girl who just couldn’t see what a nice guy he was.

“It’s just the way you’re glancing at me.. Something about you just makes me feel guilty for liking you. When you’re with him…..When you’re with him….”

“This is the best part!” Logan yelled out, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. She fell to her knees, taking you hands in hers as she dramatically sang the lyrics to you.

“This is a love song for a girl, who will never know its about her. I know its pretty stupid, but I’m much to shy to tell her…”

You fell down to the floor with her, gasping for air. You wondered if anyone actually bought this, his sob story about how sorry and sad he was that you never noticed him. It was funny, the way he was telling the world how he was always there for you when you knew his true intentions. It didn’t even seem to bother you, though. You were happy for him as long as all of his success stayed far, far away from you.

The rest of the album was, as Harry would probably have described, shit. Had he listened to it yet? Had he noticed all of the things you had between the lines in every song, the way Christian was referencing him? You decided to text him, asking if he’d heard the fifth track and sent him a video of Logan jumping on her mattress, singing the chorus into her hairbrush. He responded quickly, the little dots appearing at the bottom of your screen within seconds. Your heart skipped a beat.

Yeah. It’s shit.

You smiled. Same old Harry.

The girl he’s singing about sounds kinda hot tbh

You blushed slightly, not sharing with Logan what he had said. You already knew how she would react. She had given you the lecture several times since the incident in April, about how you and Harry could never just be friends no matter how long you left LA. “How long can you guys pretend that you’re not, like, totally in love?”, she’d ask every time you brought it up, “You either need to get together or you just have to let it go”. You’d heard it all before and though you denied it all tooth and nail you knew she was onto something. Maybe you made the wrong choice in the end. Maybe you should’ve begged on your knees for him to choose you instead of her, or never spoken to him again. But he was like a magnet and you just couldn’t push him away. You were willing to do whatever it took to keep him in your life, even in some small, insignificant way. It was pathetic and sad and embarrassing but it was worth it. And you weren’t as desperately in love with him as you were once upon a time, so being friends was easy. Really...

Logan raised an eyebrow at you, noticing the way you were staring gobsmacked at your screen. Your heart beat in your throat, happy jitters making your hands shake. Okay, so maybe you weren’t totally over it.

“He said the song is almost as bad as your dancing.” You teased her, making her roll her eyes. 

You texted Bethany, telling her you had finally gotten the guts to listen to Christian’s album. Logan was suddenly snoring lightly beside you, the first one to pass out at the party even now. At least she was consistent, you thought to yourself with a snicker. Bethany responded, first by saying you shouldn’t stay up late.

He’s a nasty little boy. She typed next. Kinda catchy tho lol.

///

Logan was driving at least 15 miles over the speed limit, easily. She zipped past the cars around her on the highway with little regard for anything or anyone. You were listening to Doja Cat, the music at full volume. You tied your hair up to keep it out of your face as that LA air rushed through the open windows. You remembered last year, when you had first arrived in LA on a day a lot like this one. You were shocked that it felt good to be back, the busy streets and billboards passing by all around you like familiar faces. You had been back for a few weeks and had finally gotten used to the noise and bustle that was such a stark difference from the quiet street outside your parent’s house. There was so much work to be done, so many things for you to catch up on and for the first time in forever that seemed exciting.

“So, you’ve spent the last month ‘unpacking your bags’. Is it time that we ventured back out into the real world?” Logan asked you. It wasn’t entirely true that you had been cooped up inside since you’d been back. You’d been to see Bethany and the Label, and to the studio to record a time or two. It was true, though, that you hadn’t had a night out just to have fun and be stupid. You couldn’t deny that that sounded nice, and felt very much deserved.

You had no plans for the night, only deciding to hop into the car to waste time and remember the way LA felt in the summer. You nodded.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked her. She smirked. You knew she already had a list of possible outings for you, as always. You could’ve asked her at 9 am on a Tuesday and she would have found you a party somewhere to attend without even breaking a sweat. Sometimes it was a curse, her forcing you out of the house whenever she had the chance, but today it was a blessing.

“Well, there’s a club like twenty minutes away that we could go to.” You waited for her to list your other options. “We could grab dinner downtown, or go to the bar we went to that one time... the one where we saw Tom Hardy walking into the bathroom.”

“That wasn’t Tom Hardy.”

“It was, but whatever.” Logan watched the road, barely. “Or, we could go to karaoke with Rachel and her friends. I think they’re going at like 9 or something.”

“Karaoke?” You questioned. You straightened your legs, stretching them out onto the dashboard.

“Yeah, they go all the time and they’ve been inviting us to go out with them for forever. I think it sounds fun.” She grabbed her phone from the cupholder, handing it to you before you could even agree to go. “Text her and ask when we should meet them.”

You got back to the house, the feeling of excited nerves taking over your body. It had been a while since you’d felt this way, those old nervous jitters before going out. You and Logan spent at least an hour picking out outfits and fixing your hair. Logan insisted that you both pull out all the stops, in honor of your first night out back in LA. “There will probably be stories out tomorrow about you being back in town, so we should make sure we look good.” She said. She had a point.

You had decided on a black corset top with a pair of baggy jeans. You looked in the mirror, satisfied. You looked chic, expensive. Like a celebrity. You smooth your hair back into a low ponytail. You were just putting on your heels when your phone started ringing next to you. You picked it up, not even bothering to check who it was. You were in a hurry to get out the door and when the phone rang you were expecting to hear Bethany give you another speech about all of your plans for the following week. You prepared yourself to humor her, pretending to listen to all of the things she had already told you over and over again the last few days since you’d been back. You pressed the phone to your ear, leaning towards your mirror to swipe your dark brown lipstick on your pursed mouth.

“Hullo?” You said, trying to move your lips as little as possible.

“Hey.” A voice came from the other end. You furrowed your eyebrows as you responded.

“Who is this?” You asked, your voice coming out snobby and short. If your number had been leaked, surely you would have heard by now, right? There was a soft snicker through the speaker, and instantly you knew who it had come from.

“Did you forget me already?” Harry asked, laughing. Your heart started pounding in your throat. You looked desperately towards Logan, who had stopped tying up her thigh high boots to look at you quizzically. ‘Who is it?’ she mouthed silently. Her hair fell over her shoulder and she swept it back with one hand. You widened your eyes, not needing to say anything at all for her to know exactly what you meant. She covered her mouth, which had fallen open, trying to suppress her gasp. ‘Oh my god!’ She whispered.

“Harry, you scared me!” You told him was you regained your composure. You breathed a sigh of relief, only to be quickly encapsulated in an entirely different type of nerves. “I thought you were some kind of stalker.”

“You don’t have my number saved anymore?” Harry asked. You smacked yourself on the forehead. Thirty seconds into your first conversation in weeks and you had already messed it up.

“No! No, I do! I just, uh... I’m getting ready to go out and I didn’t look to see who it was before I answered.”

You also hadn’t told Harry yet that you were back in LA, though you were sure he would have heard it from someone by now. You had honestly expected him to call you sooner, to show up at your house or at the studio and tell you hurriedly about all of the things you had missed. You didn’t take it personally when he didn’t, though. At least not really.

“Are you back in LA?” He asked, his voice raising slightly in pitch. You heard a door shut in the background. So he didn’t know after all. You hated that that made you smile, realizing he hadn’t been avoiding you.

“I just got back, actually.” You responded. You didn’t tell him exactly how long ago, deciding it might be better not to.

“You should’ve told me!” He practically yelled. You heard things moving around on his end of the phone, maybe drawers opening and closing. It sounded like he was looking for something. “What are you doing tonight? You can come over here. I’m just, um, hanging out.”

He was talking fast, much faster than usual and it almost made you giggle.

“It’s good to hear your voice.” You let slip. You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject before he could respond. “Logan and I were actually going to karaoke, so…”

You glanced again at Logan for help. You wanted to tell her you couldn’t go, to tell her to leave without you or drop you off at Harry’s place on the way. You stopped yourself, almost breaking at the sound of Harry’s voice that you had missed so much. Logan was gesturing wildly at you, mouthing words too quickly for you to understand. You raised your arms in a shrug at her, unable to translate whatever she was trying to tell you.

“Oh.” Harry said. You could hear him deflate, almost able to see the way the crease must be forming between his brows. “Well, maybe another time then?”

“Yeah that sounds good.” You responded. Logan started shaking her head frantically. She was waving her arms towards herself, as if gesturing someone to come closer. It clicked in your head just as Harry was preparing to get off the phone.

“Actually, Harry, you could come with us? If you wanted?”

You words came out as questions, you watching Logan to see her reaction. She nodded her head before collapsing onto the bed as a bit of dramatic flare.

“Okay!” Harry answered quickly. You could hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll meet you there?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great.”

There was a second of silence. Logan was waiting anxiously to see what would happen next, her expression the same as it would be if she were watching some kind of drama on TV.

“I’m really excited to see you,” Harry finally said. He started laughing nervously and you did too.

“I know.” You agreed, sounding happy and stupid. You gave him the address and got off the phone. You spun around to look at Logan.

“Oh my god?” You said. There were no other words you could have used to describe what had just happened.

“Oh my god!” Logan agreed. She took you by the shoulders, her doll-like face attempting an expression resembling sterness. “Okay. Here’s what you’re gonna do, alright? You’re gonna be casual, okay, not too excited or anything. Like ‘oh heyyyyy Harry, what’s up’ and shit. Got it? And don’t act nervous. You gotta be like.. Cool. Like ‘oh yeah this isn’t a big deal at all seeing you again for the first time since April.’ Okay?”

You nodded along as Logan spoke, taking deep breaths. Just act cool, you thought. No big deal. No big deal…

“And then he’s gonna see you being all hot and shit and he’s gonna be like ‘oh my god she looks amazing, I never should’ve let her go, blah blah blah’,” She deepened her voice, mimicking his accent in the way she always used to to annoy him. “And then you’ll walk into the bathroom, okay, and he’ll obviously follow you in because he just can’t help himself and he’ll push you up against the stall door-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You said, cutting her off. You removed her hands from your shoulders, turning to get one last look in the mirror. “It’s not like that, remember? We’re friends now. Like before.”

“Just got carried away…” Logan mumbled, snickering to herself.

“And you’re delusional if you think you and Harry were ever ‘just friends’. But I guess that plan works, too.”

///

Rachel was waiting for you on the sidewalk when you walked up. She stood behind a velvet rope in front of the small building, waving excitedly towards you as she flashed her perfect, model smile. You ducked under the rope as quickly as possible, attempting to exchange pleasantries as the crowd of paparazzi that had assembled around you yelled loudly over you.

“Rachel, over here!” Someone yelled. She turned, flashing her perfect teeth in a grin just in time for the flash of the camera.

“What are you guys doing tonight?”

“How does it feel to be back in LA, Y/N?”

“Logan, over here!”

Logan was a ham, as always, when being called out by name like this on the street. She posed for the photo, squishing your face in her hand and pressing her lips firmly on your cheek. The camera clicked and you all excused yourself, walking inside.

The building was dark and warm. Rachel led you towards the back, where she had reserved her room for the night. Twinkling lights covered the ceiling. The room was full of more people than you had been expecting, though spacious enough to accommodate everyone on various leather couches and bar stools. You recognized her friends, who wrapped you in hugs and left kisses on your cheeks before returning to their conversations. Someone was already at the front of the room, singing an ear piercing rendition of “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston. You heard Logan mention something to Rachel over the music, her mouth close to Rachel’s ear. Rachel nodded and smiled, picking up her drink from the counter.

“Of course, I don’t mind Harry coming!” She assured, looking directly at you. She took a sip of her drink. “Cocktail?”

You nursed one drink for a while, sitting at a hightop in the corner of the room while you watched everyone sing and dance and act drunk. You kept one eye on the door, feeling a nervous pit growing in your stomach as you waited for Harry to arrive. What should you do when he gets here? Should you hug him? Would you have any idea what to say? Your corset felt tight and uncomfortable as you sat there waiting, forcing you to sit up straighter. You rubbed your palms against your thighs.

“You’re up!” Logan yelled, grabbing you by the hand. Your drink splashed slightly in your hand, leaving a large red stain on your jeans. While you had been sipping slowly on your mixed drink, Logan had gone full speed ahead, downing at least 4. It had been too long since you’d been out, she justified herself, it was almost ‘mandatory’ that you get blackout. She was well on her way, leaving you at the station behind her.

You pulled your wrist from her grasp, shaking your head.

“I can’t” you told her. Rachel and he friends booed, hooting and hollering for you to pick a song.

“You’re literally the only person here who can sing for shit,” Logan said, causing someone to let out a hurt ‘Hey!’. She pulled on you again, her eyes meeting yours in a serious stare. “Just have fun. Come on. I’ll sing with you.”

You tossed the rest of your drink back, knowing there was no stopping Logan once she had made up her mind. It was kind of exciting, getting up and performing without any expectations or rehearsed movements.

“This one! This one!” Logan shouted as you flipped through the list of songs. She started jumping up and down, pulling you closer to her by the arm. “Please!”

She didn’t have to beg, having found what you agreed to be the perfect song to sing. The music began and you both belted out the lyrics to “Crocodile Rock” by Elton John. It was like you were 15 again, dancing in your underwear alone in your bedroom. God, it was good to be back in LA. You felt more alive than you had in months.

Everyone broke out into cheers as the music faded away, you and Logan taking an exaggerated bow before making your way back to your seats. As you followed Logan closely behind, you caught a glimpse of someone in the back of the room, standing next to your table. Harry.

Everything froze. It was like in those cheesy romantic comedies when time stands still and the two main characters just stare at each other while everything blurs around them. You felt blood rush through your body, making your hands tingle. You cracked a smile when his face lit up, dimples denting his cheeks.

You and Logan reached the table. Logan took Harry into her arms quickly, whining drunkenly about how much she missed him and how she loved him so much. She squished his face between her hands, making him look fishy and cute. He lifted her off the ground in a hug. It was funny how after just a few drinks she had seemingly forgotten all about the lecture she’d given you about being “cool and collected”. So much for acting unfazed, you thought with a smile.

Logan turned away from Harry, and in the split second she faced you before she walked off into the room her eyes grew wide, her mouthing to you another “oh my god!”. It happened so quickly, before Harry could have had the chance to notice. Then she walked off, leaving only a few feet of empty space between you and Harry.

“Hey.” You said. Even though you’d only finished one drink, you felt incapable of forming any clear thoughts. So that hadn’t changed. Harry didn’t bother responding, closing the gap between you and wrapping you in his arms so quickly you almost fell over.

“Don’t ever leave like that again, okay?” He said, squeezing you so tightly you couldn’t help but cough. His voice squeaked at the end, and you laughed against his chest. He smelled the same. He looked the same, only with a bit more scruff. You felt relieved knowing that he hadn’t changed over the last few months while you were away. You weren’t sure what exactly you were expecting to be different, but you were relieved nonetheless that he was the same person you had known in April.

“I know, I know,” You whispered, unable to speak any louder as he compressed your lungs with his arms. “I’m so happy to be back.”

“Do you still drink vodka cranberries?” He asked, offering you the drink behind him on the table. “Or are you more of a martini girl these days?”

You accepted the drink from his hand, feeling your cheeks flush. You were grateful for the dim lighting in the room, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I haven’t been gone that long.” You told him.

“Felt like it.” He said. You took a sip of your drink, unsure where to take the conversation. You chest swelled as you relished the thought of Harry missing you while you were away.

“So tell me about the Lou.” He said, sitting down at the table. You sat across from him.

“Nobody actually calls it that.” You said with a shy smile. His face pinched together in laughter. God, it was really good to be back in LA.

///

“And then Layla fell off of the deck, literally. It was, like, ten feet off the ground.”

Your abs were tight with laughter as you told Harry another story from your time back at home. You weren’t sure how far ten feet actually was, unable to estimate it in you heard after your third drink, but Harry didn’t call you out on your measurements. His cheeks were beginning to grow splotchy and red.

“I miss Layla. And Max, too.” He said when you finished. He rested his cheek on a fist. You couldn’t to tell Layla he’d said that, imagining how her face would redden and Max would roll his eyes.

“I miss your mom, too.” Harry added with a sinister grin. You swatted his shoulder, him flinching away with laughter. “What?”

“You’re a pest.” You told him. He gazed upon you for a moment, appreciating your features.

“I missed you.” He said suddenly, causing the air to shift between you. Your heart pounded.

“I missed you. So much.” You admitted, to Harry’s satisfaction.

“I was worried that you wouldn’t.”

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

“Of course I did. So much.”

You wanted to tell him about the first few nights you’d spent at home, crying yourself to sleep in your childhood bed. You wanted to tell him how your chest ached when you imagined what he must be doing without you. You didn't, though. You had accomplished the impossible, after all. You were friends again. Friends. You couldn’t let it slip how it felt to be near him, how your pulse had quickened under your skin and your body had exploded when it touched his. You were friends again, finally. Like old times. Just friends.

“This is good, right? Talking again, I mean.”

You nodded. It was nice. It was better than nice, actually. It was perfect.

“Yeah.” You told him. He smiled appreciatively. Someone was drunkenly rapping an Eminem song behind you, Logan’s gentle laugher filling the air. Harry stared at you, seeming like he was somewhere far away and fully in the moment all at once. His eyes flickered down to your lips, then moved quickly away. He bit his cheek, failing to suppress a goofy smile. He started telling some story about a new restaurant he’d been to, and how he had the best chocolate cake that had ever existed ‘in the history of man’. You tried your best to listen, your eyes struggling to peel themselves away from the way his lips looked as he spoke.

KEEP READING!!

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don't even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: Mature for now, explicit later most likely because WHY NOT tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your yukata stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes. Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. Your had been born with the Limitless, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His pale cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

***

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

So the problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

***

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

***

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?” Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

***

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

[strawberrypaul]

miami

request: "if you're still in the mood to write.... maybe something cute about going to miami with john and the boys in '64? 💗" okay i'm so sorry if this didn't turn out the way you imagined. i just started writing and got carried away and it might not be super "cute", it has some angst but also fluff. if this is nothing like what you asked for, please let me know and i will do my best to write something else <3

word count: 3.3k oops

pairing: john lennon x f!reader

warnings: accidentaly angsty, mild verbal abuse (?) not really tho, arguments, achohol, annoying men at the pub and probably bad grammar and typos.

summary: john comes home from the studio and can't wait to tell y/n some great news; they're going to miami! but y/n is unsure and that causes some conflicts.

7 p.m. Since it’s August, and the end of summer has begun, when you lifted your head from your book and turned to look out the window - you could see the sun already setting. The entire sky was a perfect blend of warm oranges, purples and blues. The sunrays’ vibrance and warm colors seemed to find their way straight to your heart and a smile slowly showed up on your face.

It was hard not to fall in love with evenings like these. The living room was dark, only the light from a floor lamp in the corner of the room and a couple of candles lit up the room. But it was nice, cozy even. Right next to the couch’s arm rest stood a little wooden side table with a record player on top of it, softly playing “Love me Tender” by Elvis Presley - a classic choice. Everything was at peace and you were content, the only thing missing was John. Sure, you supposed you enjoyed a bit of you-time every now and then but you would be lying if you said you didn’t prefer to be alone with John. He was your partner, and your safe spot. As an all-the-time-busy woman you didn’t get the perks those other housewives got; You didn’t get to spend all day at home and you didn’t get to make dinner for your husband when he got home from work. But the thing was, that’s not what you wanted anyways. You enjoyed working, you enjoyed running errands all day, and most of all you enjoyed getting home after a long day at the office and cook dinner together with John.

With all these beautiful thoughts passing your head you found yourself missing John a lot more than just minutes before. When was he going to come back from the studio? He left at seven this morning, he’s been away for over twelve hours now. But right as you turned your head away from the clock on the wall, to dive back down in your book, the front door flew open. And with it, John came storming in. Hastily he tried to rip off his coat, throw off his shoes and started to unbuckle his belt. You simply stared at him in disbelief. Maybe you took back what you had said earlier about not enjoying time alone in complete silence. What the hell was the hurry about? Now John had rushed to your shared bedroom and you could hear him rummaging through the drawers. You shook your head and put down your book to stand up and walk over to the bedroom door frame. Crossing your arms over your chest you continued watching him throw out clothes from different drawers, waiting for him to even notice you.

“Care to say ‘Hello’?” you spoke up with a slight annoyance. His head shot up to look at you with wide open eyes, it was like he froze for a second. He let go of whatever he had in his hands to walk over to where you stood, opened his arms to embrace you. With a kiss on your head he let go of you.

“Of course, of course. Hello, dear. I’m sorry.” he hastily said. Just as you were about to ask him what on earth he was doing, making the bedroom a complete mess, he opened his mouth to speak again.

“We got great- no, fantastic, news today! You won’t be able to believe it, we’re going to Miami!” he said with excitement, face lit up with joy. “They’ve already got it all figured out with flights and hotel. And the best part; you’re coming with us!” John almost burst with excitement at this point. He waited for you to jump in his arms cheering. But you didn’t. And in no time John’s facial expression completely changed. He now had a confused look on his face. His brows were furrowed and his eyes filled with questions. He took a step back from you in an attempt to understand why you weren’t just as frantic as he was.

“Love, what’s wrong? We’re going to Miami!” he asked. You sighed, letting go of a heavy breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Your shoulders fell as you looked down on your feet. Fiddling with your fingers, you were unsure of what to tell him.

“I- uh… John, I can’t go to Miami” you started, eyes still on the floor.

“What do you mean you can’t go? You always talk about how you want to go on vacation to all these different places” he said in confusion. “Besides, it’s only two weeks” he stated. You didn’t know what to tell him. Two weeks. That’s a long time, you thought for yourself. You thought about your parents, and your job. You visited your parents about every other day, they lived nearby and since they were getting old you felt a responsibility over them. You have helped them get groceries and run errands for a large number of years now, you couldn’t just leave. What if something should happen to them, like an accident and one of them needs to get rushed to the hospital? Anxiety rose inside you as horrible thoughts crossed your mind. And work, you couldn’t just leave work behind you for two weeks. Not even for two days. Working in an office meant piles and piles of paperwork every day. You couldn’t imagine what your desk would look like when you got back from Miami, if you went. No, you simply could not go with them. You walked over to the bed and sat down. You sighed once more before you started to explain to him.

“I can’t leave my parents here, or work. You know that.” you said looking up at him with doe eyes. “What if something happens when I’m not here? No one will be there to help. And work, I will have sky high piles of paperwork on my desk when I return” you continued.

John let out a loud sigh, he sounded almost frustrated? He started walking back and forth in front of you and you stood up. Placing a hand on his shoulder you started saying “John, I’m sorry but I just-” but you got interrupted immediately.

“No. Stop. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re just being ungrateful. I arranged a vacation for you, to bloody Miami, and you say you can’t go because you won’t be able to take care of your adult parents for two weeks?” he snapped unexpectedly.

Your jaw dropped. Did he just say that? No, unacceptable. You would not let anyone talk down on things you held close to heart, and especially not your parents. You felt your face heat up with anger and your body fill up with adrenaline. This was not gonna be pretty.

“You did not just say that…” you started, still in disbelief. “How dare you say that?!” you spat, raising your voice at him. “Don’t you dare talk down on my parents! You know damn well how special they are to me. They have helped me so much in my life, they gave me the childhood every child deserves. The very least I can do to return the favor is to take care of them” you were almost shouting at this point, tears had begun streaming down your face. “But I guess you don’t understand that, you don’t have your parents” you muttered and you regretted every word of that sentence the second they were said.

“What did you just say?” John began quietly. You frantically shook your head. “No… no, I’m so sorry John. I didn’t mean to say that” you tried but it was too late. “Did I hear that right?” he raised his voice. “You’re standing there, shouting at me for ‘talking down on your parents’ and then you proceed to add that you assume I don’t understand because I don’t HAVE any parents?” he, too, was shouting now. “Do you hear yourself right now?” he asked angrily. You didn’t answer, you were in chock. You had to admit you were a little scared even. “I said, do you hear what you are saying right now?” he repeated with a military-like voice. You couldn’t handle this, you had to get away from this situation. You quickly grabbed your purse and wallet, put on your shoes and grabbed a coat, stormed out the front door and one second later you were gone. You didn’t know where you were going though. You couldn’t go to your parents house, you didn’t want to bother them having to explain what had just gone down. Your only, and best, friend was away on vacation, so you couldn’t escape to her house either. Ha, ironic, you thought to yourself.

You were just walking with no destination. You passed a pub, stopped, took a few steps back and decided to have a look. You entered the bar and was greeted by the smile of a middle aged man standing behind the bar. He was holding several bottles at once, making drinks for the people sat on the bar stools in front of him. You simply smiled back to him and took a seat on a free bar stool.

“What can I get for a lady like you?” the man asked politely. You gave him a fake smile. What was ‘a lady like you’ supposed to mean?

“I want a glass of whatever the strongest alcohol you have in store” you answered while straightening your back. The man looked surprised but then nodded, immediately getting started on your drink. One moment later the drink was put on the table in front of you. “That’ll be £4 then” the bartender said, still with that ridiculous smile on his face. You started digging in your wallet for some money as a male voice was heard behind you. “I’ll pay for that” the man said. You turned around to see who this man was and when you looked up you saw a tall man with slicked back hair, wearing an expensive-looking suit. He looked like the typical red-flag-guy. You’ve met a lot of those in your life, so you knew one when you saw one. You shook your head telling him you had money of your own, but thanking him for his kindness. “No, no, I’ll pay. A lady like you shouldn’t have to pay for her drinks” the man insisted, a distasteful grin showing up on his face. What’s it with all these creepy men and saying ‘a lady like you’, you thought. At this point you had almost finished your drink, but that man was not going to give up on you any time soon. You were getting tired of his ‘but you’re such a pretty lady’ and ‘I bet you I could treat you better than your man at home, I mean, why are you at a pub alone anyway?’ bullshit. You took a last sip of your drink and slammed it down on the table, catching the people around you's attention. “Fine, you can pay for my drink” you said monotonically. “But don’t you ever call me a ‘pretty lady’ again”.

Grabbing your purse you stood up and walked out the door. You had had enough. With a fast pace you instinctually started walking back home. After a few minutes of walking you felt a wave of fear wash over you. The anxiety kicked in and suddenly you were crying. You were not far away from home when you started running for your life. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, rain started pouring down. What was wrong with these men?! Can’t they leave a woman alone? The adrenaline made you run faster than you thought was possible but you suddenly stopped when you realized you had reached your front door. Your first instinct was to just open the door but you soon got reminded of what had happened before you left. So instead you took a few deep breaths and gently knocked on the door while trying to pull yourself together. But as the door opened and a man you deep down loved so dearly stood in the doorway with a tired smile, you lost it. You ran into his arms and to your relief he put his arms around you and held you close to his chest. Hearing his heartbeat immediately calmed you down and you closed the door behind the two of you. John helped you out of your clothes and into new warm ones. He made you a cup of tea and sat down beside you on the couch. He did keep a small distance though.

“I’m so sorry, John, I really am. It was a horrible thing for me to say” you shuddered, still cold from the rain. You could hear a quiet sigh come from John.

“It was, yes. But I forgive you, y/n” he said calmly, nothing like how he had shouted at you only hours ago. “Besides, the things I said - that was not okay. You’re never ungrateful, and I know how much your parents mean to you. I’m sorry, really sorry” he said and looked down to his feet. You could tell he was ashamed of earlier. But you were too, and you were going to forgive him. You stroked his cheek with your cold hand and made him look at you. “I forgive you, John. And I know, I shouldn’t worry so much about my parents. They’re adults and can take care of themselves just fine. I just feel guilt over not giving them the love they deserved when they gave me everything as a child. I guess this is my way of saying ‘thank you’ to them”. John took your hand from his cheek and held it in his. “You don’t need to explain, love. You’re too good for this world, and what you’re doing is more than enough” he told you. John’s words hit you like an arrow in your heart. It was like his words were the only piece missing in the puzzle that was your life.

Squeezing his hands you looked up into his beautiful hazel eyes, and you breathed out. “I want to go with you to Miami” you said. John’s eyes shot open and a smile appeared on his face. “What?” he said, surprised. “I said, I want to go with you to Miami” you laughed, knowing damn well he heard you the first time. John jumped up from the couch, his hands still in yours as he pulled you up with him. He grabbed you by your waist and spun you around. When he put you down, you were laughing so much your stomach hurt. John placed his index finger under your chin to make you look at him, and when you did, he pulled your face closer to his and kissed you right on your lips. It was a kiss of pure happiness and you couldn’t help but smile like a child on christmas. This was love, if anything.

John broke away from the kiss and inspected your face for a moment before speaking. “Well, we better get to packing then. The plane is at nine tomorrow morning”. You let out a giggle before giving him a peck on the lips, typical John.

The next morning you were woken up by a loud knocking on the door. You rubbed your eyes trying to see anything in the bright bedroom. You were looking for the clock on the bedside table and after trying to see what time it was you successfully read 8 a.m. You put the clock back on the bedside table and as you were about to lay back down you were hit with realization. 8 a.m?! The plane to Miami was leaving in an hour! Oh no… this was not good. You turned your head to look at John, who was of course still fast asleep. You shook his shoulders and gently patted his cheeks a couple times. He let out groans and mutters, letting you know he was at least half awake.

“John, wake up! It’s 8 a.m, if you don’t get out of bed in ten seconds we’re going to miss the flight” you informed him while getting up to open to see who was knocking on the door. Looking through the peephole on the door you saw three men with matching outfits and similar haircuts. Knowing exactly who these three men were, you opened the front door, preparing yourself for the worst. Through the door stormed George, Paul and Ringo. They immediately rushed into the bedroom to find John sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Why’s it always you John?” Ringo asked irritably.

“Go on, out of bed you go” said George while pulling on John’s arms to help him.

Paul simply stood in the doorway with crossed arms and a smile of disbelief on his face. “What were you two up to last night? This room’s a bloody mess” he laughed. John didn’t. “Shut up” he simply replied.

You were in the hallway packing the last few things for your trip. The only thing everyone waited on now was for John to get dressed so you could leave for the airport. You had called your parents the night before, telling them about your trip. You were nervous but struck by relief when your mom basically begged for you to go. She explained how they could take care of themselves, besides, you were not going to leave them forever. It was only two weeks after all. “I’ll come over and water your plants every few days, alright?” she had said over the phone. A smile had made its way to your face and you answered with an “Alright, mom”. It had been quiet for a while as your mom spoke again “Just don’t miss us too much, okay, honey?” she sounded almost concerned. And as a wave of sadness washed over you, you said “Can’t promise you that, mom”. You said your goodbyes and hung up.

As you came back to reality after reliving the memories of your conversation with your mother from last night, John, Paul, George and Ringo stood in front of you in the hallway with sweet smiles. You smiled and nodded before opening the door. You let the four boys out of the house and before closing the door you took a last peek inside. Why was it so hard to leave home? you sighed for yourself. Maybe it was the separation from what you loved most that gave you this extreme anxiety? You didn’t come up with an answer and your thoughts got interrupted by a car honking at you. You quickly turned around to see Paul’s hand waving at you, signaling for you to get in the car. You mouthed a “I’m coming” and turned to the front door again. Crouching down you lifted up the doormat and stuck a key under it, in case your mom should stop by.

Exhaling deeply you got up and started walking away from the house. You stepped into the car and sat down next to John. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it lightly, giving you comfort. “It’ll be alright, darling. It’s only two weeks, remember?” he whispered so only you would hear him. You didn’t look at him, afraid you would break down again, but you smiled and stroked your thumb over the back of his hand. You were so grateful to have a man like John in your life, and not one of those obnoxious men at the pub. He knew how to treat you the way a woman deserves, and for that you loved him more than words can explain.

The car started rolling and you looked over to John to meet his eyes. He smiled and quietly said “Let’s go to Miami”. A broad smile soon appeared on your face as genuine happiness filled your body. “Yeah, let’s go to Miami” you replied, putting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. Yeah... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

[new-to-this123]

Monty’s Revenge

As per requested

May I please request a monty x girlfriend reader? where she was raped too and he does everything he can for her and ruins Bryce..  lots of fluff and smut

(I know the request asks for smut, but the direction I took this story, smut didn't fit. When you read it, you'll see why but I hope you'll still like it though) 

 Monty X reader 

warning: swearing, drug use, alcohol, mention and details of rape, fighting 

word count: 2061

NOTES: I haven't posted in a LOOOOONG time. Now that I'm done with school I definitely have more time so I'm hoping to get all my requests caught up!  I hope you guys like this one. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N journal entry

August 27th 2016

Tonight Kat is hosting a party at  her neighbors house. Kats parties are always a good time. Maybe I can get Monty to notice me tonight, who knows, I know people say he's troubled but there's something about him that i just love. 

Anyways i guess i'll let you know how this party goes.  

August 28th 2016

Well lets just say that yesterday didn't go as planned but it was a goodnight! 

I don't remember anything from the party. The only thing I remember is talking with Monty, and Bryce outside of Hannah's house. I was very drunk and so was monty. I woke up in the clubhouse with monty. We both don't know if we slept together, but I think we may have. The signs were all there, I have a few hickeys on my neck, and there's definitely cum in my panties. 

Monty and I hung out all afternoon, then he drove me home. 

Monty kissed me before I left and said he can't wait to see me at school tomorrow! 

I'm so happy! 

Present day (March 2018) 

Y/N was sitting at the lunch table with her boyfriend Monty when Jessica, Clay and Justin show up and sit. 

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” Jessica asked

“Why?” Y/N asked, since Jessica never really talked to her. 

“It has to do with the trials” Justin  added. 

“Look Y/N has nothing to do with that so leave her out of it” Monty said defensively placing his hand on Y/N’s lap. 

Jessica looks over at Clay and Justin, and takes a deep breath. 

“Y/N there's something i need to show you and it's not easy.” 

“ok ……. So show me” 

“Not here Y/N” Clay adds

“Why not? Anything you have to tell me you can tell Monty!” 

Jessica slides over two pictures.

Y/N looks down at the first one and ,in the corner, she sees Monty passed out on a chair, and in the middle is a naked and passed out Y/N. 

In the second one, Bryce is taking a selfie of him raping Y/N. 

“Where the fuck did you get these?” Monty yelled, grabbing both pictures.

“When were they taken? How did you get these?” Y/N asked with tears filling her eyes.

“There's a box full of them. But i can't tell you when it was.” jessica replied

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us when this happened.” Justin added

“I mean, i.. I don't know, i can't think of a time that i was left alone with Bryce in the clubhouse, Monty has never let that happen.” Y/N replies. 

Jessica, Justin and Clay look over at Monty. 

“Don't fucking look at me! I didn't let this happen!! Im gonna fucking kill him.” Monty said aggressively.

“NO! Let me go talk to Bryce.. ALONE” Y/N said looking at all four of her peers. 

“I want answers and he's the only one who can give them to me.”  

“No way Y/N!” Monty said

“Are you insane?” Clay added

Y/Ns Texts

Y/N: Hey Bryce, wanna grab a coffee at monets after school? 

Bryce: why? Sick and tired of De La Cruz? Never thought you’d last this long anyways. 

Y/N: urg meet me there at 3

“There meeting with him after school, if you don't want me alone you guys can sit at the back of monet's” Y/N said standing up, grabbing the pictures from Monty and leaving. 

“You guys don't come! He’ll know somethings up” Monty said, pointing at Jessica, Justin and Clay.

“Protect her Montgomery” Justin said, looking him right in the eyes. 

Monty walked after Y/N. 

Y/N walked into Monets and saw Monty in the back with Taylor and Kenneth.

“Urg of course he'd bring his lackeys” Y/N thought to herself as she looked at Taylor and Kenneth.

Y/N orders herself a coffee and sits at a table in the middle of Monets, and waits for Bryce. 

At 3;15pm Bryce walked in, went up to the counter, ordered himself a coffee and joined Y/N. 

“Sorry I'm late, got caught up with some of the guys.” Bryce said as he sat down.  

“All cool” Y/N replied

“So what did you wanna talk about huh? Monty being an ass?” Bryce asked with a big smile on his face. 

“No i wanted to ask you when this happened” Y/N said as she slipped him the selfie of Bryce raping her. 

The smile on Bryce's face quickly changed to anger. He leaned forward on  the table and whispered “where the fuk did you get these?” 

“When did it happen Bryce?” 

“When do you think?” Bryce scoffed. 

“ I don't know, that's why i'm asking you?”

“Just know that you wanted it. You were moaning my name the whole time.” 

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and asked Bryce again 

“When did it happen?” 

“When did you wake up in the clubhouse with Monty alone?” Bryce replied with a smirk on his face. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped, and suddenly memories of that night flashed through her head.

Hannah’s Party

Y/N is standing outside, holding a beer, sharing a joint with Monty. 

“You know i was telling Bryce on our way here that i hoped you were here tonight.” Monty said as he passed Y/N the joint.  

“I was hoping you'd be here too Monty” Y/N replied, taking a hit off the joint and coughing. 

“Do we have a newbie here” Bryce said as he walked up and wrapped his arm around Y/N.

“ Yes it is” monty replied laughing. 

Y/N walked back into the party and spent all night drinking and smoking with Monty.

Near the end of the night Y/N and Monty were clearly very drunk and high. Y/N was using monty as her support and monty was using Y/N as his. 

Bryce walked up to them “lets go kids! let's get you home” he said as he placed himself between the both Y/N and Monty and wrapped his arms around both of their shoulders.

Bryce walked them to his car, he helped Y/N into the front seat and Monty in the back.

As he was getting ready to drive off bryce said “now now don't fucking puke in my car” 

“No promises” monty drunkenly said from the back, laying down on the back seat, closing his eyes and passing out. 

Bryce placed his hand on Y/N laps. Even in her highly intoxicated state she thought his hand was a little too high up on her thigh and tried to move it. 

“Shhh baby it's ok” Bryce said as he smiled and squeezed her thigh a little harder. 

They got to the clubhouse and Bryce carried Y/N in and laid her on the couch. 

“Monty” was all Y/N could mumble in her intoxicated state. 

“He's in the car babygirl. You're ok. I got you.” Bryce said as he started pulling Y/N shirt off. 

“No” Y/N tried to mumble and squirm away but Bryce overpowered her and stripped her completely naked. 

“I know you want this. Everyone does” Bryce said as he started raping Y/N. 

“The night of Hannah's party. You were supposed to drive us home. Instead you went to the club house and staged the whole thing” Y/N replied, tears building up in her eyes. 

“Naw! Monty walked in on his own and sat in the chair after I got you undressed. And in casual Monty style he was too drunk to notice anything so when i finished i woke him up and told him he fucked you a while ago but i had to leave because it was late and he told me to leave you guys there. He took the credit and look,here you are two years later, still happily together. So why are you bitching, we all got what we wanted in the end” 

Y/N looked at Bryce in disbelief. 

“We all got what we wanted?” Y/N asked a tear falling down her cheek. 

“You got the guy, he got the girl and I got an easy lay” Bryce smiled as he stood up and left. 

“YOU RAPED ME” Y/N yelled as Bryce left Monets and Monty ran to you. 

 “Baby what did he say?” Monty asked wiping away your tears. 

“You walked in when he raped me and you did NOTHING!!!!!!!” Y/N yelled as she pushed monty away running out of Monets. 

“Y/N!! BAAAABE! HOLD UP!” monty yelled running after Y/N. 

“NO! FUCK OFF MONTY!” Y/N screamed tears pouring down her cheeks. 

Monty walked away, angry and heartbroken at what his girlfriend told him. He got to Monets,where his car was parked, and got in and drove towards Bryces house. 

He got to Bryces and went straight for the guest house.

“YOU FUCKING SON OF BITCH” Monty yelled punching Bryce in the face. 

“What the fuck De La Cruz??” Bryce asked, pissed off.

“You raped my girlfriend!” monty replied. 

“She wasn't your girlfriend then and she wanted it! She was moaning my name the whole time” Bryce shot back pushing Monty.

 “NO!!! YOU RAPED Y/N!!!!” Monty yelled again, grabbing Bryce by the collar of his shirt.

“Your bitch wanted it! And if it weren't for that night you two wouldn't be together! So shut the fuck up before i beat you like you dad does” Bryce spat at Monty. 

In that moment Monty’s mind went black with anger and he jumped on Bryce and started punching him over and over again. Kenneth, Taylor, Marcus and Luke all tried to pull Monty off Bryce to no avail. 

“Monty! Stop!” Scott said as he pulled Monty up from the back of his shirt. 

“FUCK OFF” Monty yelled pushing scott, who stood his ground and grabbed monty wrists. 

“CALM THE FUCK DOWN” scott yelled at Monty, as he pulled him out the guest house, to his car. 

“He fucking raped Y/N” Monty told Scott.

“And you fucked him up. Youll be lucky if he doesnt fucking die dude” scott replied. 

“Good, he deserves it!” Monty said, getting into the passenger seat of his jeep. 

“Y/N’s parents are gone for the week, that's where we're going” Scott said as he got into the driver side and drove off. 

“Y/N open up it's me Scott” Scott said knocking and Y/N’s door. 

“Oh my god you are an impatient neighbor!” Y/N said as she opened the door. 

“OH MY GOD MONTY!!!” she yelled as she saw Monty's black eye and bloody nose. 

“You should see Bryce, he looks worse” Monty smiled. 

“Ya pretty sure he almost killed him” Scott replied. 

“You went after your best friend?” Y/N asked, leading Monty to the bathroom. 

“Of course I went after him! He hurt the love of my life, and lied to me about it. He’s lucky I didn't kill him.” Monty smiled. 

Y/N wiped the blood of his face and hands. 

“I love you Montgomery” Y/N said, bandaging his hands.

“I love you too Y/N” Monty replied kissing the top of Y/Ns head. 

“Hey you two im gonna head home i'll see you tomorrow.” Scott said, leaving and heading next door. 

“Let's go cuddle and watch a movie” Monty said wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulders 

Y/N and Monty ordered a pizza and cuddled for three movies in her bed. 

“Y/N…” Monty said moving some hair out of Y/N’s eyes. 

“Ya?” Y/N replied butterflies in her stomach. 

“I really love you.” Monty said looking into Y/N’s eyes.

“Monty, i can't have sex, i don't know when ill be able to but I'm not comfortable with it right now. After finding out about Bryce, I don't know, i feel different” Y/N said tears building up in her. 

“ Hey baby girl, it's ok, I'm here for you no matter what and it doesn't matter how long it takes, I'll wait for you to be ready. I love you and I'm not going anywhere.” Monty replied wiping away Y/Ns tears and bringing her into a hug.