#brain still going bzzz

[lesbians4kurt]

when you know, you know

happy holidays, @luckynumber4 @ronald-speirs @lena-basilone idk which one to tag :3 i was ur secret santa, here to feed u sledgefu!!!!!! i hope u like it :D

word count: 13.4k

summary: Eugene, a burnt-out Ph.D. candidate, finds himself carpooling with Snafu, a complete stranger, on their way to Burgie's wedding.

The humid evening air of May had long since swept over Auburn as Eugene pages through countless notes, the sound of rustling paper permeating his apartment. It’s month three of researching for his Ph.D. dissertation, and although he knows this is only the beginning, that in a year he’ll most likely still be working on it, he’s already experiencing all the warning signs of burnout. He’s managed these past few months to follow the strict schedule he’d created, keeping himself fully on track with every scrap of discipline he possesses, but an itching restlessness had begun burrowing itself in the back of his brain last week, and his concentration has been off ever since. He needs to find a new angle, take a little break, and approach the daunting process with new eyes. He just needs to hold out for another week: Burgie’s wedding. 

Burgie is a close friend from Eugene’s undergrad days, they had even shared an apartment for a few semesters. They meet up every few months for a drink and catch up, texting every other week or so. Eugene wishes they could meet more frequently, but he hardly has time to see his family, let alone friends. Burgie had gotten engaged about a year ago, and Eugene is looking forward to his upcoming wedding as a chance to wind down. He’s happy for Burgie too, of course; no one deserves happiness as much as him, the most kindhearted person Eugene knows. 

Eugene closes his eyes and sighs. He can’t stay focused at all. He just needs to hang on to his last thread of motivation for a little longer, but every task seems impossible. He sits back in his chair and rubs a hand across his face, figuring he’d close his eyes for a moment before continuing. Maybe he’d take a break for a snack in a minute, drink some water, turn on a meditation… 

Bzzz. 

Eugene jolts awake 40 minutes later, curled up in his chair, back stiff. He silently thanks whoever is texting him. That was stupid, if he had kept sleeping he might not have woken up until his morning alarm. He almost drops his phone trying to unlock it and squints his tired eyes as he tries to read the screen. Weirdly, the text is from Burgie. It’s well past midnight and Eugene has never known him to stay up so late. If it was someone else, he might ignore the text, but he decides to open it.

Hey, call me when you see this.

Oh? Eugene’s skin prickles with worry and he immediately presses the call button. 

Burgie spares Eugene’s nerves by picking up immediately. “Hello?”

“Hey, what did you need?” Eugene asks, hoping nothing has gone wrong with the wedding.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.” Burgie’s cadence is upbeat, melting away the icy worry that had frozen over Eugene’s chest.

“Sure, anything,”

“Okay, so, one of my best friends lives in New Orleans, and his car gave out on him a few days ago. I was wondering if you could pick him up on your way here. I assume you’re driving?” 

Burgie’s right, he would be driving. Eugene has had an extreme phobia of airplanes ever since childhood, making the numerous family vacations he went on a humiliating ordeal. He would get sick or start hyperventilating a few minutes after take-off like clockwork. Logically, he knows he’s safe, but fear isn’t logical. The combination of heights and confined space is just too much for him to handle. Despite his phobia, his mother insists on going on trips that require a plane ride and is offended that he refuses to go on these vacations in adulthood.

“Yeah, I’ll be driving,” Eugene half chuckles before getting more serious. “So, who is he?”

“His name’s Snafu. Well, it’s Merriell Shelton, but we all called him Snafu, anyway,” Burgie says, a fondness so strong taking over his voice that Eugene can recognize it even over the phone. “He can’t really afford a plane ticket. I know it’s probably out of your way, but it would mean a lot to me if you could drive him.”

Eugene has to keep himself from sighing. He knows this detour will add about an hour or so to his drive, and he’ll have to drive over eight hours from New Orleans to Fort Worth with some guy he doesn’t even know. What will they talk about? Will it be awkward silence all the way? Will he have to drive him back too?

“Of course, Burgie. I’ll drive him for you,” Eugene ends up saying before thinking about it any further. The favor is simple, really, and he wouldn’t want Burgie to be missing one of his best friends at his own wedding. Plus, Burgie has been an amazing friend to Eugene, never giving up on him no matter how busy he is and never letting things become awkward between them. 

“Thanks, Eugene! Really, thank you.” Burgie sounds elated, putting a soft smile on Eugene’s face. “I can’t wait to see you. We’ve barely talked since you started your dissertation research.”

“I’ve barely talked to my own mother since I started,” Eugene jokes. “And you know how she is about phone calls.”

Burgie laughs and Eugene is reminded of how much he misses just talking to him.

They chat for a few more minutes before Burgie decides he needs to get to bed. After hanging up the phone, Eugene stretches before standing up and pacing for a few minutes. That short nap and talking to Burgie rejuvenated him, and despite it being past one in the morning, he decides he has enough energy to continue working for another hour before going to sleep. He pours himself a glass of water and grabs a few crackers before sitting back down at his desk, resuming. 

The next few days pass similarly: Eugene eats every meal at his desk as he researches and researches and researches, staying up late every night. He leaves his apartment every morning to meet with his professors or attend a class, but otherwise, he spends every waking moment on his research, his newfound motivation from the phone call sticking to him. He’s almost disappointed now that he’ll be leaving for the wedding soon as it will interrupt his productivity, but he reminds himself that upon his return he’ll probably be even more inspired. 

Four days before the wedding, Eugene realizes he hasn’t bought gifts yet and spends six frantic hours online shopping. If there’s one thing he’ll be eternally bad at it’s picking out gifts; he spends hours overthinking every purchase only to feel the gift he chooses is shallow and impersonal. Of course, this time proves no different. He buys Burgie and his bride-to-be, Florence, a set of matching watches and a bottle of champagne. He knows people normally buy small kitchen appliances or home decor, but he eats TV dinners every night and the white walls of his apartment are blank, so he’s not very experienced in either of those departments. Plus, he has no idea what they already own or what they might need. As he plugs in his credit card information and confirms his purchase, he sighs and thanks God for two-day shipping. He lays awake in bed that night wondering if his gift properly conveys his love and appreciation for Burgie, and frets about it until the early hours of the morning before deciding to write a heartfelt card for good measure, drifting off to sleep. 

The following night, Eugene finds himself increasingly curious about this Snafu character he’ll be driving with for eight hours. Merriell “Snafu” Shelton, huh? He bites his lip as he opens his computer, quickly googling the name. The only relevant result is from one of those sketchy phonebook websites, and he immediately feels stupid and guilty. But not guilty enough to stop him from stalking Burgie’s Facebook for any signs of the guy. Again he finds nothing, and the wave of shame hits him again. He should be working anyway, but his curiosity is slowly morphing into anxiety and he really wishes he had asked Burgie a few more questions. He calms himself by rationalizing: Burgie wouldn’t be friends with some insane weirdo. Everything will be fine. He closes the tabs he was using for stalking and continues his work.

Two days before the wedding is the day Eugene decides to depart. He knows his mother will be upset if she finds out that he drove right through Mobile without stopping by, so he’ll visit his parents first and spend the night there. Tomorrow he’ll leave Mobile, drive two hours to New Orleans, and then drive eight hours to Fort Worth, so he better be well rested. He spends his morning and early afternoon packing up a suitcase and waiting for his parcels to arrive in the mail, practically jumping the postman when he rounds the corner. He wraps them carefully in gold paper before placing them in a gift bag, then struggles to write a heartfelt card for about 40 minutes. He’s ready to leave the house at 3 PM and packs the gifts into his backseat, perhaps being overly cautious when he buckles the bag in with the seatbelt. As he sits down in the driver’s seat, he thinks he should probably call his mother to let her know he’s coming. He quickly shakes this thought out of his head, knowing that any phone conversation with her gets strung out for several hours and ends with him nearly tearing his hair out with stress and annoyance. Instead, he shoots his father a text as a warning and puts his phone on silent in case his mother ends up calling him in response before starting his car and taking off. He’s the type of driver others get angry being behind, the type people assume are old ladies and scream at angrily as they pass. He likes to say he’s meticulous and cautious, but any passenger he’s ever had groans at his slow pace. It occurs to him that Snafu will probably complain about it too, and the thought somehow embarrasses him even though he hasn’t even met Snafu yet.

He arrives in Mobile four hours later, mentally preparing himself to face his parents as he pulls into the driveway. The house of his childhood stands before him in all its grandeur. It’s an old manor house built in the 1800s, with the rest of Mobile slowly rising around it. It stands only one story high, but to Eugene, it’s always been an imposing structure that never quite felt like home. There’s no denying it’s a beautiful house; tall willow trees frame the wraparound porch and its accompanying Greek revival-style pillars, and large flowerbeds color the ground below. A large, freshly mowed yard stands between Eugene and the front door. He takes a deep, shaky breath before taking the first steps. He never likes visiting here, everything is so suffocating.

As he approaches the large, mahogany door he has the same debate with himself he always does when he comes here. Does he knock or just walk in? The further removed he becomes from living here the more the answer to that question becomes knock, but his mother always makes a comment about him knocking, about how this is his home. Regardless, he decides to knock and waits anxiously as he hears rushed footsteps approach the door. It swings open aggressively and there his mother is, a huge smile splitting her face in two, every tooth on display. Before he can even tell himself to smile back, she pulls him into a tight embrace. He drops his bag to the floor before awkwardly wrapping his arms around her and squeezing his eyes shut. It begins.

“I’m just so happy to see you, Eugene,” she gasps into his ear, and for a moment he’s scared she’s going to cry. She pulls away from him and brings her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“I missed you too, Mom,” Eugene says sheepishly. It’s not that he doesn’t. She can just… be too much. Too hot and cold.

She rubs his arms a few times before taking his hand and leading him through the door. “Well, let’s get you inside. You look exhausted. I can tell you haven’t been eating properly, Eugene. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

He doesn’t reply and merely lets himself be dragged inside, resigning himself to his fate. She’d probably make him eat three meals worth of food now. 

“You didn’t have to knock, Eugene. You’ve come home,” she says, clasping his hand a little tighter as she speaks, leading him through the hall. 

Eugene suppresses an eye roll in response. Of course, that comment. It’s like clockwork.

She stops once they enter the dining room where his father is seated at the head, reading a newspaper as he waits for dinner. A genuine smile softens Eugene’s face when he sees him.

His father puts down the newspaper. “Hey, Fritz!” he says, standing and making his way up to Eugene to properly greet him. Fritz is an old nickname from when Eugene was a little boy. He’s not sure where it came from, or when it started, but his father has affectionately called him that for as long as he can remember.

“Hey, Dad,” Eugene says softly, pulling his father into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, son.”

They hold the hug for a good minute, just swaying back and forth with the occasional pat on the back. If this house isn’t home, his father’s embrace is. He’s filled with a sense of comfort and ends the hug with the strength he needs to get through the rest of the visit.

“Dinner’s just about ready, Eugene. Have a seat and I’ll be out with it in a minute,” Mary Frank says, rubbing his arm again before walking off toward the kitchen.

Eugene turns to his father, who holds out a hand toward the table. They both take a seat, Eugene to his father’s left, the same place he always sat as a boy. His mother will sit across from him to his father’s right. The table is already set and Eugene feels a little bad that he interrupted their dinner preparations, or that he didn’t arrive early enough to help. 

“So, Fritz,” his father begins. “How’s the research?”

“It’s been… overwhelming,” Eugene replies earnestly. “I enjoy it and everything but… The fact that it’s been three months and I’ve barely even started…”

“I know, it’s a long road ahead of you. I remember those days myself.” His father reaches out and places a reassuring hand on Eugene’s own. “I know you’ll make it through. Just keep persevering.”

Eugene’s soft smile from earlier returns as his eyes almost glaze over with tears. He hadn’t realized, but he’d needed to hear those words. Especially from his father. To feel like someone was proud of him.

The moment is gone when his mother returns, placing a shepherd's pie in the middle of the table. “I wish I’d known you were coming earlier, I would’ve cooked more,” she says. “We need to fatten you back up. Remember when your brother first lived on his own? He didn’t eat right and almost landed himself in the hospital!” She’s exaggerating. Sure, Eddie hadn’t been eating properly, but he just felt lethargic and lightheaded. He hadn’t even gone to the doctor, let alone the hospital.

“Mom, I’ve lived on my own for the good part of a decade now,” Eugene deadpans, pushing his food around with his fork.

“Has it really been that long? And still no girlfriend?”

Oh. Now she’d struck a chord.

“Mom,” Eugene says firmly. “We talked about this.”

She doesn’t look up at him, merely takes a bite of her dinner as she answers, “Well, I haven’t accepted it.”

“Now, Mary Frank–” his father begins.

Eugene all but throws his fork down on his plate. “I’m gay,” he seethes out through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, do you have to make an argument out of everything, Eugene?!” She slams a hand on the table, making her plate clatter in its place. “Am I not allowed to hope for your happiness?”

“But you’re not! And you started it!” Eugene can feel his face flushing as his hands clench painfully into fists. “I…” He makes brief eye contact with his father and wills himself to calm down, knowing this isn’t worth it. She’ll never understand. She doesn’t want to. “I can’t… I’m gonna go out to Deacon’s spot.”

Eugene wipes his mouth with a napkin and has to force himself not to throw it down on the table. As he stands, his mother calls out to him to finish eating, but he ignores her as he makes his way out the back door. He shuts the door behind him and takes a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the evening air. The sun is setting, painting the sky a beautiful pink, and he can smell the bay in the breeze. Even if he doesn’t miss this house, he does miss Mobile. The flatlands and plains of northern Alabama just don’t hold the same charm as the gulf. He turns his gaze from the sky to a group of willow trees across the expanse of the backyard and begins walking toward them. As he approaches, a small bench comes into view, along with a sizable rock that protrudes from the ground: Deacon’s grave.

Deacon was Eugene’s childhood dog, a birthday present from his father the day he turned nine. He was the best dog anyone could have asked for. He slept in Eugene’s bed, comforted him when he was sad, and followed along when he went on bike rides. Leaving him behind when he went to college was one of the hardest things Eugene’s ever had to do, no matter how silly that sounds. Deacon was hit by a car two months into that first semester and Eugene was devastated, not leaving his dorm for anything but class. Burgie spent weeks trying to cheer him up enough to go out and have fun again. Eugene went home a few weekends later, and by then his father had buried Deacon under the willow trees. He spent nearly the entire visit just sitting at the grave. The next time he visited, his father had placed a bench there. Eugene’s never thanked him for it, an unspoken favor with unspoken gratefulness. 

“Hello, boy, it’s me,” Eugene whispers to the ground at his feet. He sits on his haunches for a moment, stroking the grass in front of the stone with a hesitant hand, before sitting on the bench. He lets silence overtake him and tries not to think of the argument at the table. He wishes he hadn’t risen to his mother’s comment. He wishes she hadn’t said anything at all. He wishes he never came. Guilt burns in his chest for admitting that thought, but he knows it’s true. Everything will be fine. He can go to bed early, and tomorrow he’ll be on his way. It’s fine.

Too soon, Eugene hears the back door swing open and footsteps approaching. When he looks up, he sees his father, and his shoulders drop a little. Small mercies. 

“Fritz… Eugene, I’m sorry for what your mother said back there,” he says, sitting down beside his son. “I just spoke to her, and–”

“It’s okay, Dad,” mutters Eugene. “I know how she feels. It’s never going to change, no matter how many talks you have with her.”

“I’m not sure that’s fair, son. She’s making progress–”

“No,” he interrupts. “No, Dad. It’s been years. I don’t want any excuses anymore. All I want... All I want is for her to just love me. Love me without all these conditions.” Eugene’s voice cracks a bit on the last sentence, and his eyes lock on Deacon’s grave, not daring to look at his father in case the tears in his eyes are obvious.

They sit in silence. Eugene hears his father’s mouth open a few times as though to speak, but it closes again after a few seconds each time. Ultimately, he places a hand on Eugene’s shoulder in comfort, and they just sit in each other’s presence for a few moments. Eugene feels numb. The tears have gone from his eyes and an empty cavity opens in his chest like quicksand. His father couldn’t deny anything. A small part of him, an inch of his being, had hoped that he’d been wrong, that he’d just been misunderstanding his mother, that she loves him fully and has his best interest at heart, just with a funny way of showing it. But no, he was right all along, and this silence is all the proof he needs. 

As the silence sinks into awkwardness, his father squeezes his shoulder and stands up from the bench. “Give me a minute, I’ll be back with a check for you.”

“Dad, that’s really not necessary. I–”

“Just let me do this.” His father turns away without another word, walking back toward the house.

If there’s one thing Eugene dislikes about his father, it’s his generosity. His parents are paying what scholarships and grants don’t cover for his education, and his father insists on paying half the rent for his apartment. Eugene has tried to tell them that between his stipend, tutoring, and being a teaching and research assistant, he can pay his own way now, but they refuse to listen, especially his father. He’s a grown man, and it makes it uncomfortable to think he’s still dependent on his parents. 

His father returns in a few minutes, check in hand, and Eugene reluctantly accepts it but makes a mental note to shred it without depositing it later. He doesn’t want to take any more of his father’s money. Afterward, they say a tense goodnight, and Eugene finds himself staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. It’s early, only around 9 PM, and he feels restless, especially in this environment. The room is mostly barren, picked apart over the years. All the books on the shelf had been donated or taken to his apartment, all his old clothes given away, and some of his furniture sold in a yard sale. The room he used to spend all day in couldn’t make him more uncomfortable. 

Eugene tries to concentrate on falling asleep, knowing he has a long day ahead of him. He tosses and turns for what seems like hours before his thoughts land on Snafu. Oh, yeah. He almost forgot he’s supposed to pick him up tomorrow. Will they get along? Being trapped in a confined space with someone you can’t stand for eight hours seems grim, so he hopes for the best. What does he look like? What did he get Burgie as a gift? Will it make Eugene’s gift look stupid? These thoughts carry him to sleep.

Eugene’s mother wakes him the next morning, opening the bedroom door and calling out his name. He sits up and rubs his eyes before making sleepy eye contact with her. She gives him a weak smile before walking away. He groggily pries himself out of bed before getting ready for the day. It’s early, just past 6 AM, meaning he’d slept for maybe eight hours after all of that tossing and turning. He can’t fathom how his mother wakes up this early every day. She’s always had this habit for as long as he can remember, waking up with the sun and making breakfast. He can smell it now, the savory scent of eggs frying as he dresses himself. The thought of sitting down to eat with his mother is daunting after the events of the previous night, but he figures if she’s dead set on pretending nothing is wrong, he can play along.

Eugene greets his mother as he sits down for a breakfast of over-easy eggs and cheesy grits. It’s one of his favorites, and he figures maybe this is her way of apologizing. He’s grateful for the food, of course, but he has no appetite. Regardless, he takes a bite, determined to avoid giving the impression that he’s still upset. The two eat in silence until his father enters the room, sitting down at the table and pouring himself a mug of coffee. 

“Good morning,” his father greets, and the two murmur replies between bites of food. “Eugene, you mentioned in your text you’re headed to a wedding today?”

“Yeah, my friend Burgie’s wedding. From college,” says Eugene, staring down at his food. “He lives in Fort Worth, so it’s quite a ways.”

“Why didn’t you fly? It would’ve saved you some trouble,” his mother chimes in. She’s entirely serious and Eugene once again has to battle an eye roll.

“I’m terrified of flying, Mom,” he says flatly, taking a brief moment to close his eyes and quell the rising anger in his chest.

“You need to get over that childish fear, Eugene,” she almost snorts. “It’s a plane ride, not skydiving.”

“I felt like a drive,” asserts Eugene loudly. He bites back the argument that’s attempting to claw its way out of his throat and goes back to eating.

“Alright,” is all his mother says in reply, and the three of them lapse back into a silence that continues for the rest of the meal.

When 7 AM rolls around, Eugene decides it’s time for him to leave and is filled with relief. He can’t stand the stuffy atmosphere of this house for much longer. Even the idea of being in a car with a total stranger is more appealing than spending even one more minute in his mother’s company. He gathers his things and meets his parents at the door, bag in hand.

“Well, I’ll be off,” he says, discomfort clear in his voice. 

His father hugs him first. “I love you, son. See you soon.”

Eugene leans into the hug, calmed slightly by the embrace. “I love you too, Dad.”

Eventually, they separate, and Eugene is forced to face his mother, whose eyes appear to be filling with tears. She hugs him abruptly, sobbing into his shoulder, and he’s left frozen in place.

“Come visit more often, Eugene. Please,” she whispers, a fist full of Eugene’s shirt, squeezing him so hard it hurts. “I love you.”

He’s not sure how to react and merely rubs her back, forcing out a numb, “I love you too.”

They say their final goodbyes, Eugene’s mother still sobbing, now in his father’s arms. He gives them a wave and steps outside, quickly shutting the door behind him. His stress is immediately alleviated after leaving his mother’s presence, and he is left with a bittersweet longing for human connection. For someone who will understand. He finds solace, however, in the bright morning sky as he steps back across that large yard, toward his car. Time to get this shit done.

Eugene opens his texts from Burgie and plugs Snafu’s address into the GPS on his phone. Once he begins, he can fully concentrate on driving, still at his cautious snail’s pace. Focusing on the road and the directions keeps him from thinking about the visit with his parents, his mother’s crying face, and how the two of them will never understand each other. Well, maybe he thinks about it a little and has to shake the thought from his head, but he mostly focuses on driving. 

The drive goes smoothly, except for when Eugene struggles to stave off a panic attack crossing over Lake Ponchartrain. He hates driving over any body of water, let alone on the five-and-a-half-mile-long, 30-foot-high Twin Span Bridge. He pants for air as he inches forward toward the high-rise section, cars beeping behind him. His sweaty palms clench the steering wheel tightly as the road elevates beneath him, gritting his teeth. Once he’s over the hump, he breathes a sigh of relief and feels a bit better about the remainder of the bridge. He drives on smoothly but wishes the water would stop reflecting the sun into his eyes. At least he wasn’t forced to go over the Causeway. He considers that bridge a deathtrap and has always avoided taking any route that includes the nearly 24-mile-long monstrosity.  

Once Eugene is past the bridge, he continues down I-10. He’s officially in New Orleans East. Slowly, the area around the road transforms from unkempt trees and shrubs to a neighborhood. Duplexes with chainlink fences roll by, some surrounded by empty lots. The area had clearly never fully recovered from Katrina all those years ago, as Eugene remembers taking a day trip to an amusement park that was in the area as a child. The GPS announces that he’s arriving at his destination on the right, and he pulls into the driveway. The house is identical to many others he’s passed by, with white panels that could use cleaning and a porch covered in chipping paint. A lump of anxiety rises in his throat, which he swallows with guilt. How childish to judge someone he doesn’t know based on where they live. He double-checks his text message from Burgie to confirm that this is indeed the correct house and to find out which apartment in the duplex is Snafu’s. Knocking on the wrong door would embarrass Eugene so thoroughly that he might never recover, so it’s worth it to be sure.

After quelling his anxiety with a few deep breaths, Eugene steps out of his car and heads up the stairs of the porch, cringing as the steps creak loudly under his feet. He stands in front of Snafu’s door motionless for a second, gathering courage, before knocking. He waits and waits, ninety seconds passing with no response. He battles with himself internally on whether or not it’s too soon to knock again before deciding he has to as there’s been no noise from inside. He thumps the door louder and longer the second time around, hoping that doesn’t come off as rude. There’s no response again and Eugene begins to doubt himself. Maybe he had read the address wrong or the apartment number, or maybe he hadn’t been loud enough. Just as he raises a fist to knock again the door flies open and he jumps back, heart racing. 

The man at the door is approximately Eugene’s age, a few inches shorter with dark, curly hair. His eyes are squinted and his face is puffy, and his tan skin is on full display as he’s shirtless. Eugene’s knocking must have woken him from a deep sleep. He blinks slowly a few times before grumbling out, “Who the fuck are you?”

Eugene shuts his mouth, which had been left agape, and straightens himself out. “Um, I’m Eugene Sledge, Burgie’s friend. You’re Snafu, right? I’m here to pick you up.” He reaches out to shake hands but avoids eye contact. In fact, he avoids looking at the shirtless man altogether and feels his cheeks burning a dusty pink. He hopes he doesn’t seem like an idiot. God, why does he always have to make a fool of himself around attractive people?

Snafu looks down at Eugene’s outstretched hand for a moment but ignores it, instead replying, “Yeah, that’s me.” 

Eugene stands in silence for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets clumsily when he realizes his handshake has been rejected. Still staring at a spot behind Snafu, he waits for him to continue speaking. He doesn’t, and Eugene's skin crawls with discomfort. He clears his throat and makes accidental eye contact with Snafu, whose eyes are now wide, gazing directly at Eugene’s face with a smirk. Eugene’s mouth goes dry under that gaze, those piercing blue eyes making him feel small. He’s not sure whether Snafu’s smirk is playful or cruel, but either way, he’s sure the intention is to make him uncomfortable.

“Um, did Burgie not tell you I was coming?” Eugene finally says, licking his dry lips, not looking away from Snafu’s eyes. He feels trapped in the eye contact, almost hypnotized. 

“He did, I’m jus’ surprised you’re here so early,” Snafu replies. His smirk dissipates as he lets out a catlike yawn, fully exposing his angular jaw. 

Eugene swallows hard, finally looking away from Snafu’s face. “Well, um, long drive ahead of us,” he says. “Burgie wants to get together for dinner tonight anyway, so we should get going.”

“Okay.”

Before Eugene can even contemplate a reply, Snafu slams the door in his face. Not sure what to do, he reaches for the doorknob before realizing that’s probably a bad idea; he can’t just walk into the guy’s house. He hears a faint rummaging from inside and slowly presses an ear to the door, curiosity getting the better of him. Snafu must be packing up, and by the sound of it, he’s in a hurry, smashing things about. After a minute or two, the noise dissipates, and hasty footsteps take its place. Eugene jerks away from the door, nearly taking one too many steps backward and falling down the stairs behind him. As he regains his footing, the front door swings open, and he pretends to be examining one of the porch columns intently.

Snafu emerges, fully clothed now with a duffle bag over his shoulder, and raises an eyebrow as though Eugene is the crazy one. “Let’s fuckin’ go. I thought you were in a hurry or whatever,” he says, pushing past Eugene toward the car.

Eugene stares at his back, confounded at Snafu’s audacity. As he follows behind, he realizes this drive might be even worse than he realized. Out of every possibility he had considered, he never imagined Snafu being this rude. Or attractive, but mostly the rude part.

“Where should I put my stuff?” Snafu asks once Eugene reaches the car, waving his duffle bag in front of him. 

“Just a second,” Eugene says. “Let me pop the trunk.” He feels Snafu’s gaze on the back of his neck as he unlocks the door. He feels awkward like a kid having to read aloud in class. Can’t this guy look at anything else?

Snafu snorts. “You were standin’ a few yards away from your car the whole time an’ you still locked the door?”

Eugene just lets out a shaky fake laugh, not sure what to say. He’s an anxious person who locks his car when he pumps gas. He presses a button and hears the trunk pop before getting up out of the car.

“Typical,” says Snafu under his breath, and Eugene can hear the smirk on his lips. It’s like Snafu’s provoking him, but Eugene has no idea why. Maybe just to be an asshole.

Eugene helps him find a spot in the trunk for the duffle bag, having to shove aside his own giant suitcase. Once they finish, they get settled in the car, Eugene in the driver’s seat and Snafu sitting shotgun. As Eugene buckles in, he realizes Snafu didn’t seem to have a gift with him, unless it was in the duffle bag. Maybe he just got them a gift card. What if Burgie asked for no gifts and Eugene just forgot? The anxiety surrounding gift-giving consumes him for a second, and he even considers asking Snafu about it before reconsidering.  He discreetly turns to look at Snafu, who’s staring blankly ahead as he bites his thumbnail. Eugene shakes his head with a sigh, starting the car and the GPS route. Forget that notion he had about Burgie not being friends with any insane weirdos, there’s one in the seat right next to him.

Eugene backs out of the driveway and they begin the long drive to Fort Worth, the car filled with an awkward silence. After Snafu’s behavior at the house, Eugene hadn’t anticipated him keeping his mouth shut like this. The silence is crushing and unbearable and Eugene is almost tempted to start some small talk, but then figures that it might be for the best that they stay quiet. Snafu is off-putting and Eugene can’t read him at all, has no idea how to respond to him. Yeah, silence is best.

Around ten minutes into the drive, Eugene sees Snafu move in his peripheral vision, and the car radio begins playing. Snafu flips through the stations before landing on 90.7 and turning it up. The smooth beats of an RnB song fill the air and Snafu slumps in his seat.

“Hey,” snaps Eugene, glancing repeatedly from the road to Snafu. “I don’t like listening to the radio when I drive. It’s distracting.”

“I’ll turn it down real quiet,” Snafu says, hand already reaching for the dial.

“No, this is my car.” Eugene reaches over and turns the radio off himself, bumping Snafu’s hand out of the way. He can take some rudeness and maintain cordiality, but distracting him while driving is where Eugene draws the line. 

“Jesus, then, okay.”

They lapse into silence again, and, if he didn’t know any better, Eugene would say Snafu is pouting. He pulls his legs on the seat with him, hugging them with one arm, the other propping his head up as he stares intently out the window. As Eugene peeks at him, he realizes in horror that Snafu has taken off his shoes, but decides not to say anything. As long as he’s not being distracting, it doesn’t matter. Eugene just needs to get through this drive, then he can come up with some excuse later as to why he can’t drive Snafu back. Maybe he’ll say his mother is seriously ill or something.

“Listen,” Snafu starts, and Eugene almost jumps in his seat. “I can’t handle sittin’ here for eight hours in silence other than that damn GPS, so…”

Eugene groans internally as he realizes Snafu is about to make conversation. Great. “So, what?” he grunts in response.

Snafu snickers, puzzling Eugene. “How d’you know Burgie? Let’s start there.” Eugene doesn’t have to look to know that smirk is back.

Eugene sighs, resigning himself to his fate. There’s no way he can avoid talking now. “Um, we went to college together. What about you?”

“We served together when he was on active duty. Both got stationed in Australia,” Snafu says. Eugene should’ve guessed this. He’s been wondering how Burgie would’ve been such good friends with someone from a different state, especially someone this weird. The Marine Corps makes perfect sense. Burgie had attended Auburn on an ROTC scholarship and paid it back with four years of active duty service, meeting Florence along the way during his time in Australia. And Snafu, apparently.

“Wait, have you met Florence, then?” Eugene asks with genuine curiosity, the dread that had previously been present in his voice gone. “The timing was never right for me. I’ve gone to visit him and vice versa, but I didn’t get to meet her yet.”

“Oh yeah,” says Snafu. “I was there when they met. She’s real sweet, her and Burgie are perfect for each other.”

Eugene glances at him again and sees a soft, pure smile gracing Snafu’s face. The earnestness of it is startling, starkly contrasting with the grouchiness and arrogance of before. He’s beautiful.

Realizing he’s been staring, Eugene clears his throat and looks away. “I’m really glad Burgie met his person. He deserves it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Snafu says, and Eugene can feel his eyes again, but different this time. No smirk.

Silence returns, this time with a different flavor of awkwardness. Snafu is just staring at him, his body fully turned to face Eugene, and Eugene has no idea what to do. Snafu had been leading the conversation before, perhaps he’s now expecting Eugene to continue it?

Eventually, Eugene can’t take it anymore and caves. “So, um, what do you do?”

“I’m a truck driver,” Snafu answers. “Y’know, I just got home from four days on the road this morning. Y’woke me out of a dead sleep.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Eugene mumbles, cringing internally. “You can sleep now if you want…”

“Naw,” says Snafu, leaning closer to Eugene over the center console. “Then I wouldn’t get to find out more ‘bout you, would I? What d’you do?”

Eugene blushes, not sure where this change in attitude is coming from, why Snafu is suddenly so interested. Also, he knows he’s about to sound like a rich kid, which he is, but still. He tries his best to edge away from Snafu without obstructing his driving, saying, “I’m working toward a Ph.D. in botany. I’m going to be a professor.”

“Oh, so you’re smart, okay,” says Snafu.

Eugene clenches his hand on the steering wheel, wanting to change the subject.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Snafu continues. “I could barely finish high school, I hated it so much.”

“Oh, well, I just really love botany,” says Eugene, trying to relax. “Once I started learning more I didn’t wanna stop.”

“So you’re gonna be a doctor, huh? Doctor Eugene?”

“Sledge, Doctor Eugene Sledge.”

Snafu merely hums in response, and Eugene feels strange. He really can’t tell what Snafu’s thinking, his asshole façade is impenetrable. Eugene can sense something underneath, but it’s well hidden. “Snafu.” Not Merriell. What does Snafu mean anyway? Eugene wants to ask where the hell that nickname comes from, but doesn’t want to come off as offensive. Maybe he’ll ask Burgie later.

“Can I smoke in here?” Snafu asks nonchalantly, jolting Eugene from his thoughts. 

He glances over, making brief eye contact, and Snafu shakes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter at him. “Um, sure,” Eugene responds without really thinking, taken aback by the sudden question.

Snafu rolls his window down and lights a cigarette, taking a long drag. Eugene has to stop himself from wincing at the smell, instantly regretting his quick decision. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on the road, but it’s ten times more distracting than the radio. At least maybe this will make Snafu like him. Not that he gives a shit. He glances at Snafu only to find the other man staring back, smoke spilling from his nostrils.

“You smoke?” he asks, holding up the cigarette box again.

“No,” says Eugene. There’s a beat of silence before he decides to attempt humor, “I would be a bad almost-doctor if I did.”

Snafu snorts. “That’s bullshit; you’re gonna be a fuckin’ plant doctor.”

“Hey, a doctor’s a doctor,” Eugene says, smiling without even realizing.

“Ain’t smoke like plant food anyway? And ashes fertilizer?” 

“Not if your cigarette butt catches plants on fire.”

“Who the fuck’s doing that shit? I never burned no plants down.”

Eugene gives him a look, a grin still on his face, and they both laugh, and Snafu doesn’t seem like such an asshole. It’s like when he was talking about Burgie; his smile lights up the whole car. Eugene has to remind himself to look away, eyes back on the road. The banter feels good.

Silence returns, but this time more comfortable. Well, aside from the suffocating cigarette smell. Snafu continues chainsmoking and Eugene is all but retching. The smell has always been something that easily bothered him, even passing a smoker on the street sometimes makes him nauseous. His temples pulse with a fierce migraine, which worsens with each passing minute, not aided by the fatigue of his early start this morning. When it becomes too much to bear, Eugene suggests pulling off the highway to eat at a rest stop and fill up the tank. Snafu agrees, and they drive another few miles to the next exit.

The rest stop isn’t very big, just a Popeye’s, a McDonald’s, and a local chain gas station Eugene doesn’t recognize. 

“Where d’you wanna eat?” Snafu asks as Eugene pulls into a parking space.

“I don’t eat McDonald’s,” says Eugene.

“What d’ya mean you don’t eat McDonald’s?” Snafu sounds almost offended.

Eugene looks over at him in confusion as he shifts the gear to park and turns the car off. “I’ve never eaten there. Ever. I just want to keep my streak.”

“Somethin’ about that jus’ feels classist,” Snafu says. “I don’t know if I can trust someone who thinks they're above McDonald’s.”

Eugene has no idea if he’s being serious. “If you really want to eat there it’s okay, I’ll just get a pretzel from the gas station or something.”

Snafu snickers. “Naw, I’m jus’ playin’. I don’t even want McDonald’s anyway.”

“Then.. What?” Eugene shakes his head in confusion before sighing. Why bother? He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand this guy’s sense of humor. “Anyway, so, Popeye’s then?”

“Sure.”

They cross the parking lot and enter the fast food joint. Eugene’s legs feel stiff and weak after all that sitting, and he tries to shake the pins and needles off without making it obvious. He fails, and Snafu stops to ask if he’s alright, causing him to flush in embarrassment. At the counter, they order their food. Eugene glances at Snafu out of the corner of his eye. He really is attractive. With the proximity, he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, but now, really looking at him, it doesn’t smell so bad. Suddenly, Snafu looks back at him with those startling eyes, and Eugene realizes it’s his turn to order. He sputters for a second, tripping over his words as he tells the employee what he wants. 

“Somethin’ on my face?” questions Snafu as they walk to the pickup counter.

“No,” Eugene answers, face beet red. He doesn’t turn to look at Snafu, he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. And he knows that smirk is back on Snafu’s face anyway, he could hear it in his voice.

Once their order is ready, they pick up their trays, Eugene letting Snafu lead him to a table. They take the first few bites of their food in silence. Eugene feels strangely shy about sitting face-to-face with Snafu now; they haven’t been properly face-to-face since they spoke at the door, and that seems like ages ago.

Snafu takes a loud slurp of his soda before asking, “So, where are you from? Burgie mentioned you drove out from Alabama.”

Eugene immediately swallows the food in his mouth, despite having not properly chewed it. He narrowly avoids choking, but his voice is still weak when he replies, “Oh, I’m from Mobile. I live in Auburn, though. Drove from there to Mobile yesterday, then down to New Orleans this morning.”

Snafu raises an eyebrow at his strained voice, but nods, continuing to eat.

Realizing it’s once again on him to continue the conversation, Eugene returns the question. “What about you?”

“I’m from New Orleans East. Lived in Baton Rouge for a while, y’know, after the storm, but… That city has a way of calling people back.” There’s something bittersweet and melancholic about the way Snafu speaks about his hometown, captivating Eugene. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt that strongly about Mobile.

“I haven’t spent much time in New Orleans,” says Eugene. “I’ve only been on a few day trips as a kid, to museums and stuff.”

 “I love it,” Snafu says without a pause, shrugging. “Shitty place, but… Yeah, I love it.” That glimmer is back on his face, the serene expression reserved for Burgie, banter, and now New Orleans. Eugene wonders how many other things can make him smile like that, and a part of him wants to try to find out.

“You must have missed it when you were in the Marines,” says Eugene.

Snafu laughs, “Let’s not get dramatic now.”

Eugene feels immediately embarrassed for asking, turning to look at the food on his tray and picking at it. He wishes he could throw a chicken tender at Snafu for being so annoying. Or that the booth would swallow him whole. Either one.

“Yeah, I did.”

Eugene looks up. “Huh?”

“I did actually miss New Orleans, though. Me and Burgie used to jus’ sit around on base and talk ‘bout home. Used to go to the grocery store and look for hot pockets, y’know. Somehow, they made us feel less homesick.” Snafu has a far-off look for a moment, then catches Eugene’s eye and they share a laugh. 

“Burgie and I used to have similar conversations in college,” Eugene says, smiling again. “Neither of us left the South, and I wasn’t even that far from home, but everything was still unfamiliar. Now I haven’t properly lived in Mobile ever since, and Burgie’s been all over the world...”

“Time flies, huh?” Snafu sighs.

“Yeah,” Eugene says. “Feels like yesterday and forever ago at the same time. And now he’s getting married!”

Snafu hums again, the same hum he gave in the car, and Eugene’s chest feels light for a reason he can’t place. They continue eating in silence. Eugene feels Snafu’s eyes on him repeatedly but decides not to return the eye contact. He wishes Snafu would at least stare less blatantly. He’s been doing it all day, just looking at Eugene. He’s not even trying to hide it; he doesn’t care that Eugene knows, it’s almost like he wants him to. Any normal person just looks away when they’re caught staring, but not him. Snafu’s just odd, and his behavior keeps Eugene on his toes. 

Once they’re done eating, Snafu reaches into Eugene's space and transfers the garbage onto his own tray. Eugene is puzzled by the unexpected favor but doesn’t dwell on it. They stop by the trash cans and make their way out to the car. The tank still needs to be filled, so Eugene backs out of the parking space and drives up to the gas station.

Before he steps out of the car, Snafu stops him. “Hey, why don’t I drive the rest of the way? You look like shit, you could use some sleep.”

Eugene’s heart drops. Does he look like shit? Is that why Snafu was staring at him this whole time? Does he have huge, ugly eyebags, is that all it was? He comes back to reality. He can’t let Snafu drive his car. “Uh, no. I’m fine,” he replies.

“C’mon, I don’t mind. Go ahead and sleep,” Snafu insists.

“No, uh, my car can be um. It can just act a bit weird, it’s best if I drive.” 

Snafu raises an eyebrow and Eugene can tell his words are less than convincing.

“Do y’think I’m a bad driver or somethin’?”

Okay, maybe Eugene does, but it’s only because of Snafu’s off-putting demeanor. He just seems like the type of person to tailgate someone and flash his high beams at them. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but Snafu cuts him off, saying, “I drive for a living. I’m a truck driver, remember?” 

Oh, yeah. Eugene had forgotten that detail. He can tell by Snafu’s tone of voice that he’s offended, and Eugene doesn’t blame him. He feels bad for assuming but is still apprehensive. “I don’t like other people driving my car,” he says. 

Snafu rolls his eyes obnoxiously. “Whatever, just don’t fall asleep at the wheel or some shit.” He sinks into his seat, pouting again. “You drive like my grandma, by the way.”

Eugene glares at him before finally stepping out of the car to fill the tank. He thought Snafu was going to spare him the grandma quip but he should’ve expected otherwise. As he stands at the meter, his eyes ache with fatigue and he feels a little woozy. The food has done nothing to help his tiredness, and all he wants is to curl up in the passenger seat and wake up in Fort Worth. Snafu’s offer almost seems tempting, but he only met the guy a few hours ago. It’s out of the question to trust him to drive Eugene’s car, even if he’s Burgie’s best friend. He jumps at a noise behind him, realizing he’d been closing his eyes and dozing off at the pump, with the tank already full. Snafu has stepped out of the car and is standing next to him now.

“Oh, alright,” Eugene gives in. “You drive the rest of the way.”

Snafu has an insufferable smug look on his face and immediately sits down in the driver's seat. Eugene returns the nozzle to the pump and makes his way to the passenger’s seat. Once he’s seated, he takes his keys out of his pocket and waves the one to his car at Snafu menacingly. 

“If you have even the slightest bit of road rage, I’m taking over,” he says, making direct eye contact.

Snafu snatches the keys from Eugene’s hand and rolls his eyes again. “Oh, please,” he grumbles under his breath. “I’m gonna get us there a lot faster than you would.”

To Snafu’s credit, he actually is a good driver. He’s completely focused on the road, finally using those big eyes of his for a good cause instead of just harassing Eugene. Snafu clicks on the radio again, still playing 90.7. The voice of a female soul vocalist floats through the car and Eugene’s eyelids grow heavy. He doesn’t want to leave Snafu’s driving unsupervised, so he attempts to fight sleep by repeatedly blinking, but it’s useless, he’s too tired. He’s had a long past two days. Weirdly, he feels more comfortable falling asleep in a car being driven by a stranger than in his childhood bedroom. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he gazes at Snafu, all jaw and tan skin. From this angle, Eugene can see the firm muscles of his arm as it rests on the steering wheel, his other lying on his thigh. He could feel Snafu’s eyes earlier; can Snafu feel his now? Does Snafu know that he looks back? His thoughts become foggy and he’s sleeping soundly within minutes.

He wakes around five hours later, 5 PM, with a severely dry mouth. He licks and smacks his lips as his eyes begin to focus. He tries sitting up and groans at his stiff neck, turning to the backseat to reach for a water bottle. 

“Hey, sleepin’ beauty,” Snafu laughs, turning and grinning at him. “We’re in Texas now. Gettin’ real close to the finish line. Only ‘bout an hour left.”

Eugene ignores him in favor of chugging the water, pausing every few seconds to swish it around and wet his lips with it. His mouth tastes terrible and he hopes his breath doesn’t stink.

“Y’know, I was thinkin’ while you were asleep,” Snafu prattles on. “Why d’ya have a gas car? Ain’t you all obsessed with nature? Shouldn’t you have an electric car or some shit? Lovin’ the Earth an’ stuff?”

Eugene scoffs internally but keeps ignoring him, choking as he downs the rest of his water. He hacks out a cough as his throat burns. Snafu keeps talking, not even taking notice. Tears fill Eugene’s eyes as he attempts to breathe normally. He clears his throat loudly in a final attempt to get his lungs working again.

“Are you okay?” Snafu finally stops ranting.

“Oh, I’m just great,” Eugene says shakily, rubbing at his watering eyes.

“I got super fuckin’ bored while you were asleep,” Snafu says. “Once we got to Texas I turned off the radio ‘cause none of the stations were playin’ soul no more.” He turns to Eugene and fully looks at him for the first time since he woke up. “You got a red mark on ya face from the seatbelt.” 

Eugene is too groggy to be embarrassed and feels around his face for the indent, massaging it when he finds it. “You crash into anything while I was asleep?”

“No,” Snafu deadpans, not taking the bait. Clearly, he doesn’t like this line of humor. 

“Shocking,” Eugene returns in the same flat tone. “Do you want some water?” 

“Sure,” Snafu says.

Eugene tries to hand him a bottle, but he waves it away with his free hand.

“Open it for me.” Snafu’s not asking, it’s a command. 

Eugene looks from the water bottle to Snafu a few times before complying. He tries to hand it to Snafu again, but instead of grabbing it he puts his free hand on the steering wheel and opens his mouth.

“No,” Eugene says with a sigh, not even bothering to be shocked at this point.

“Was worth a try.” Snafu turns to him with a smirk, reaching for the water bottle. Their fingers graze as Eugene hands it to him and Eugene is forced to consider if he’s doing this on purpose. Is all this weird behavior Snafu’s way of flirting? The staring, the smirking, the teasing? Snafu takes a long gulp of the water and Eugene watches as a droplet rolls down his chin and onto his throat. It wouldn’t be so bad if that was the case.

The remainder of the drive to Fort Worth is uneventful, just some casual banter here and there as Snafu follows the directions of the GPS. As they close in on their destination, Eugene realizes that he has no idea where Snafu is staying. 

“Wait, the GPS is set to my hotel,” Eugene says. 

“Okay,” Snafu replies blankly.

Eugene rolls his eyes. “Well, where are you staying?”

“With Burgie.”

“Let me change the destination, then.” Eugene hopes with every fiber of his being that they don’t have to backtrack too much. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Yeah, Snafu’s hot, and he… doesn’t mind him, but being trapped in a tin box with anyone for this long would drive him insane. He needs to be alone. Luckily, the change of course only adds about twenty minutes to their ETA, and Eugene pats himself on the back for having the foresight to book a hotel close to Burgie’s apartment. He shoots Burgie a text to let him know they’ll be arriving soon.

As they approach Burgie’s apartment, Eugene wonders about Snafu. He must be closer to Burgie than Eugene himself. He’s staying with him, it seems like he didn’t get a wedding gift, and Burgie went to all this trouble to ensure Snafu was able to come. Some part of Eugene is sure that Burgie might have driven out to New Orleans East himself to pick up Snafu if Eugene wasn’t able to. It’s not jealousy, but there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s disappointed, filled with the dismay that comes with realizing the person you feel closest to feels closer to someone else. It’s silly, the kind of thing a kid gets upset about, but he can’t help it. 

When they arrive, Eugene quickly exits the car and walks to the driver’s side, ready to switch places with Snafu.

Snafu’s laughing as he opens the door. “You look like some kinda butler tryna help me out of a carriage standin’ there like that.”

Eugene snorts, then feels awkward as they now stand face to face. He’s not sure what to say or if they should shake hands. “Uh, see you for dinner later, then,” he ends up saying.

Snafu grins a real smile, the one reserved for Burgie, banter, New Orleans, and now, Eugene. “‘Course,” he beams and gives Eugene a pat on the shoulder before walking away. 

Eugene stands, frozen, and watches him be buzzed into the apartment building. If he feels Eugene’s eyes, he doesn’t react. Once the door closes, Eugene snaps out of it and sits down in front of the wheel. He plugs his hotel into the GPS and hazily drives his way there. Once he’s safely inside his room, he smacks himself down on the bed and lets out a sigh. It feels good to properly lay down after all that sitting. Alone and staring up at the ceiling, he still can only think of Snafu. If he was flirting, was Eugene doing it back without realizing it? I mean, he was immediately attracted to him, so maybe subconsciously… He wonders if it’s wise to entertain this flirtation. It might be a good distraction from all the pressure of his dissertation. It’s just flirting, it’s noncommittal. He wonders if he made the whole thing up in his head. He tries to clear his thoughts but instead starts imagining his mother meeting Snafu. He snickers at the thought. They would hate each other.

He feels himself getting drowsy again and bolts upright. He’s supposed to meet Burgie at the restaurant in only about an hour, he can’t let himself drift off. He checks his breath and his suspicions from earlier are confirmed. He definitely needs to brush his teeth before he leaves. He hopes Snafu didn’t notice. He checks himself in the mirror to make sure his clothes don’t look too wrinkled. He decides to change from a t-shirt into a button-down to look a little more proper before freshening up in the bathroom. He’s ready a little too early, so he kills the rest of his time by rummaging through his suitcase and reorganizing it.

He confirms the address of the restaurant with Burgie, picking out a route on the GPS, and stands, ready to leave. Of course, as soon as opens the door, Eugene’s anxiety decides that he must pee before getting in the car. Luckily, he decided to leave early, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s on his way in a minute or two, stepping out of the hotel into the humid, late spring air. The sun isn’t setting yet, but it’s circling its way around the horizon, getting ready to descend. 

The restaurant is only thirteen minutes from the Comfort Inn Eugene is staying in, and he arrives 10 minutes before the agreed time. He looks around the parking lot, searching for Burgie’s car, but he can’t remember what it looks like for the life of him. Does Burgie have a truck? That would seem in character. But maybe it was a hatchback? Or a sedan? Maybe he should go inside and say Burgie’s name as the reservation. But he can’t get there first and be alone at the table, that’s weird. Two figures crossing the threshold interrupt his thoughts: a sturdy frame he immediately recognizes as Burgie and a curly head that can only be Snafu. They seem to be laughing about something, and Eugene’s chest feels light. He’s so happy to see Burgie after so long, he’d missed him so much. And Snafu’s face… If he’d smiled when talking about Burgie, he was beaming now. The look on his face is infectious, and Eugene finds himself smiling despite being alone in his car.

Eugene waits a few minutes for the pair to get settled inside before getting out of his car and following behind. The restaurant is a typical steakhouse with a bar and TVs playing various sports on every wall. He searches the tables until he finds Burgie, who makes eye contact and starts waving. He tells the hostess that his friends are waiting before walking toward them, trying to maintain a normal pace despite his excitement. Burgie stands, grinning, and gives him a warm hug, patting Eugene’s back firmly a few times.

“I missed you!” Burgie coos into his ear. 

“I missed you too,” Eugene says as they part, face glowing. 

Burgie turns and holds out an arm toward the booth.  “You’ve already met Snafu.”

Snafu gives a mocking wave and smirks. “Oh, yeah. We know each other very well now.”

Eugene blushes. What’s with this guy? Why’s he making it sound weird? All they did was talk! Burgie gives Eugene a look as they sit down and he has to stop himself from explaining that nothing happened, it wasn’t like that. 

“So, uh, who else is coming?” he says instead, clearing his throat.

“Just a few more guys, friends of mine from work,” Burgie replies. “They should be here soon. Anyway, I didn’t get to properly talk to you on the phone last week, how have you been?”

“Well, nothing much. Just my dissertation,” he shrugs. It seems evasive, but it’s the truth. Eugene’s life is boring, all he does is research these days.

“Nothing new?”

“Honestly, no.” He gives an empty chuckle before continuing, “It’s exhausting. It’s like I’m working on something impossible to finish. I’ve been really burnt out lately…”

Burgie reaches across the table and gives his arm a quick pat. “I know you’ll succeed,” he says. “Just remember that you love botany. Return to that passion, the reason you wanted to do this in the first place, then you’ll have the strength to persevere.”

Eugene smiles. “You sound just like my dad, he said something similar.”

“Well, he’s a doctor, he must be right,” says Burgie with a laugh.

There’s a lull in the conversation and Eugene becomes aware of those eyes boring into him yet again. He’d almost forgotten Snafu was there, which is odd. In Eugene’s experience, he’s not usually such a silent person. Eugene glances at him. He’s just sitting there, curled up in his corner of the booth, observing with those wide, blue eyes. His expression is blank, but he slowly grins as they make eye contact. Eugene looks away, back down at the table, but he knows Snafu hasn’t and is continuing to stare. 

Burgie’s friends arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and they have to get a waiter to push another table up to the booth. There are three of them, all working at the same contracting company as Burgie. They’re loud and rowdy, watching and reacting to the sports on the TVs. Eugene only meets each of them briefly to shake hands, but he can immediately tell that his nature doesn’t mesh well with theirs. The three steal away Burgie’s attention throughout their meal, leaving Snafu and Eugene alone together on their end of the booth. 

“You don’t like them,” Snafu states as he eats his steak. 

“It’s not really that I just… I don’t know how to talk to them,” Eugene says between bites. “They’re not my type of people.”

“D’you know how to talk to me?” Snafu says, not looking at Eugene but instead focusing on his steak. He’s attempting to hold the entire thing up with his fork and rip the meat off with his teeth instead of cutting it.

Eugene watches him play with his food with slight disgust but ignores it. “No, I don’t. You’re weird.”

Snafu snorts at this. “Am I not your ‘type of people’ then?”

Eugene’s face splits into a playful grin. “Hm, I don’t know. Maybe if you stopped playing music in the car.”

They both laugh but are interrupted by louder laughter next to them. Burgie and his work friends have all ordered shots. They offer some to Eugene and Snafu, but both decline.

“Designated driver?” Eugene asks.

“Somethin’ like that,” Snafu replies vaguely, avoiding eye contact. He’s abandoned his plate by now and is leaning over the table with his chin in his palm. 

Eugene can tell that he’s approaching a sore spot, so he changes the subject. “So,” he starts. “Did you get all settled at Burgie’s apartment?”

“Yeah, it’s like my home away from home or whatever.”

Eugene nods, unsure of what to say next. He doesn’t know why Snafu does this, letting the conversation die. It’s like he wants to put Eugene on the spot. 

“I’m goin’ out for a smoke,” Snafu says, interrupting Eugene’s thoughts. He stands slowly, then asks, “Wanna come?”

“Sure,” Eugene says, looking up at him. In the dim light of the restaurant, his features are even more harsh and pronounced.

They maneuver their way out of the booth, trying not to bump into Burgie and his friends at the adjoined table. The others don’t even notice they’re leaving, too invested in a drinking game. Outside, the sun has fully set. None of the stars are visible in the sky, and there’s no grass for fireflies to blink in. Eugene doesn’t like heavily urbanized areas like this, where nothing lives but people. He needs the plants and the birds and the stars to be happy. 

Snafu reaches into his pocket, retrieving a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He offers them to Eugene, who again refuses, before lighting one up and taking a long drag. His eyes close for a moment, seemingly in some sort of bliss, as he holds in the smoke, before exhaling away from Eugene. The odor hits Eugene’s nostrils and he has to keep himself from making a face. He distracts himself by watching Snafu take another drag, sucking on the cigarette, cheeks hallowing slightly. At least he looks pretty, even if it smells.

At this moment, Eugene feels oddly close and familiar with Snafu. Maybe it’s their proximity throughout the day, or how attractive Snafu is, or the smoke messing with Eugene’s thoughts, or maybe just the moonlight. He thinks about his antics in the car and how they seem almost charming in retrospect, despite being annoying at the time. Maybe they were charming then too, but Eugene was too obsessed with feeling awkward to realize.

“I have a heart condition,” Eugene says out of the blue.

“Huh?” Snafu says, eyebrows raised. In a few seconds, a look of understanding washes over him, and he drops his cigarette, stomping it out. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I don’t wanna kill you or somethin’.”

“No, no!” Eugene’s cheeks are flushed red in embarrassment. What is he doing? “I meant, that’s why I’m not drinking. Not just because I have to drive. I don’t drink. Sorry, I don’t really know why I’m telling you this.”

Snafu laughs again with that earnest smile, and Eugene almost doesn’t mind embarrassing himself if he gets to see that face. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, boo?”

Eugene’s chest warms at the pet name. He normally hates when people call him things like that, but somehow Snafu is an exception. “Sorry, I guess I was just thinking about it because of earlier.”

“You’re funny, Eugene,” Snafu says, looking serene in the moonlight.

They’ve inched closer toward each other throughout their conversation, shoulders almost touching as they stand side by side. Eugene, slightly taller than him, can look down at his face from this angle, and he looks perfect. Suddenly, Eugene knows that if he doesn’t reach out to Snafu now, he’ll regret it later. He can’t let his anxiety or apprehension get in the way of his own happiness. He bumps his hand against Snafu, knuckles grazing, who turns to look at him. Their faces are only two shoulder widths apart, and Eugene can see every eyelash, every freckle on his face. He takes Snafu’s hand fully, entwining their fingers.

Snafu smirks and turns so they face each other.

“Why do you keep smirking at me?” Eugene whispers. “All day, that smirk.”

“For an almost doctor, you’re so stupid,” Snafu says with a roll of his eyes.

Eugene is about to respond but is interrupted by Snafu cupping his neck with his free hand and kissing him. His eyes flutter shut, hand drifting to Snafu’s jaw. The kiss is sweet and warm, and when they part they leave their faces close for a second, just breathing in each other’s air, before returning to their shoulder-to-shoulder position. 

“I’ve been flirtin’ with you all day,” Snafu says, and now the smirk in his voice doesn’t seem so evil. 

“I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you were just being an asshole.”

“To me, that’s flirtin’.”

Eugene snorts. 

They stay out there for a few more minutes, just chatting and basking in the moonlight and each other’s presence. The barrier Eugene had set up, that fear of awkwardness, had melted away. He’s not sure where this thing with Snafu is going, or if it will go anywhere, he just knows that right now, it feels good, and that’s what matters. He spends too much time worrying about his past with his parents and his future with his dissertation; the two press against each other until the present is all but gone, a sliver of its former self. It’s time to finally live. They kiss again before reentering the restaurant, this time more lingering, parting with a smile. When they sit down again it’s like they share a secret, something only for them to know, and they can’t help but knowingly grin at each other from across the table.

By 10:30, Burgie and his work friends are all at varying levels of intoxication. Burgie is the least drunk, mostly just buzzed, to avoid a hangover on his wedding day. The three others are properly drunk and talking about continuing at a bar down the road. Eugene frowns at them, finding it difficult to hide his disdain. Aren’t they going to the wedding tomorrow? He makes eye contact with Snafu who looks as disgusted as he is. 

They say their goodbyes to the three, which for Eugene is just a curt nod of the head. Burgie pays the bill, which Eugene protests but Burgie insists the host should pay. Snafu keeps entirely out of the conversation, but looks off to the side guiltily when Eugene glances at him. He’s able to convince Burgie to let him leave the tip, placing a fifty-dollar bill down on the table. The poor waitress had a lot to deal with, a huge order and three annoying, rowdy drunks. They make their way out to the parking lot, Snafu now walking with Burgie, and Eugene trailing behind.

“It was so good just to hang out,” Burgie says to him, pulling him into another hug. “Sorry I wasn’t able to talk much, those three can be overwhelming.”

“It’s okay, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Eugene gives him a tight squeeze before letting go. “I can’t wait to meet Florence.” 

“Speaking of which, I should go call her and warn her I’m coming home,” says Burgie, smiling softly. “I’m sleeping in the living room with Snafu tonight. Don’t want any bad luck.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Eugene pats Burgie’s arm, nodding him off. “Don’t keep Florence waiting.”

Burgie walks off, phone in hand, leaving Snafu and Eugene alone again. Their previous goodbye had been uncomfortable at best, but all of that was gone now. 

“Guess you’ll see me tomorrow too, huh?” Snafu drawls, each word glazing over Eugene like honey, hand reaching out to palm Eugene’s shoulder. 

“Guess so,” he replies, mirroring Snafu’s movement before pulling him into a hug. “I’m glad I decided to pick you up today. Even if you were a little insane at first.” He brings a hand up to Snafu's hair, petting it softly and running his fingers through the curls.

“Sorry about that,” Snafu chuckles, leaning into the touch slightly.

They part and say their goodbyes, Eugene turning and walking toward his car, this time Snafu watching his back disappear. Once alone in his hotel room, Eugene can hardly believe himself. He doesn’t regret anything, but normally in social situations, he feels overwhelmed, especially by people like Snafu who are hard to read. He finds it difficult to act in such situations, to do anything. Today he acted, and he was happy with the result. He goes to sleep thinking of Snafu and what the next day may bring. He won’t need to lie about his mother suddenly becoming ill now; he’ll gladly drive another eight hours with Snafu being annoying in the passenger seat as long as it means they get to kiss again. 

When the morning comes, Eugene is buzzing with excitement. He feels slightly ashamed that this is mostly because of Snafu and not his friend’s wedding, but he can’t help it. He arrives early, sitting alone in one of the church pews behind those reserved for family and the procession. Only a few others are here so early, and he sits in contemplation, the excitement from earlier suddenly washed away. Churches will always remind him of his mother. Maybe he should feel bad for his outbursts two days before, but he can’t force himself to. She chooses to never understand. She wants him on that altar with a woman one day, saying his own vows. She’ll never get that. He’s filled with a melancholic feeling as he stares at the cross.

He sits there, unaware, for an hour as the church fills around him. His wallowing is interrupted by the sound of the pianist playing a precursory song. Within a few minutes, the procession starts. First Florence’s mother, then Burgie, who looks nervous. He takes his place at the altar, and Eugene tries to find his eyes, to give him a consolidating look, but Burgie’s gaze is fixed on the aisle. Next, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, Burgie’s three brothers, walking arm in arm, with the maid of honor and… Snafu at the end. For some reason, Eugene didn’t expect him to be the best man and almost feels offended that he wasn’t offered a spot as at least a groomsman. This is all quickly forgotten when he gets a proper look at Snafu in a suit. His hair is neat and gelled back, a grin on his face. He meets Eugene’s eyes with a smirk as he walks by. Florence is next in the procession, and she looks beautiful. Eugene has seen pictures of her before, but they couldn’t do her justice. She is radiant in her gown, and he sees Burgie’s face light up as soon as she begins her walk down the aisle.

The ceremony proceeds without a hitch, Burgie picking up Florence and spinning her around once the pastor tells him to kiss the bride. Everyone makes their way to the reception hall, with what would normally be a ten-minute drive turning into a twenty-five-minute drive with all the traffic. Eugene puts his anxiety-inducing gift down on the table designated for presents then finds himself a table in the corner, waiting for the wedding procession to be introduced and the party to start. 

When they arrive, the dancing begins, and the food is set out. Eugene grabs himself a plate and is moving down the buffet when someone touches his shoulder, He nearly jumps, but turns and sees Burgie, giving him a half-hug with his free hand.

“Congratulations, Burgie,” he says. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Burgie beams at him, then steps to the side, revealing Florence, who leans in to give Eugene a half-hug as well.

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” she squeals. “Burgie just loves you! Thank you so much for coming!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Eugene says. “Congratulations, Florence!”

“I have to go greet the others, but I’ll talk to you later, Eugene. Bye!” She turns and walks off, a bounce in her step.

“She's lovely. I’m so happy for you, Burgie.” Eugene actually feels like he might cry. In a strange way, he feels like he’s saying goodbye to Burgie today. With him married and Eugene getting his Ph.D., they’ll have even less time to see each other. But Burgie means the world to him, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep their bond from fading.

“So, how did you feel about Snafu?”

“Huh?” If there was anything Eugene was expecting Burgie to say, it wasn’t that.

Burgie looks at him knowingly. “I just thought you might like to know that he’s playing for your team, that’s all.”

Eugene sputters, “Did you plan this? Is that why you called me in particular?”

“I just thought you two might click,” laughs Burgie. “And by your reaction, I’m guessing you did?”

“Well… maybe a little,” says Eugene, unable to stop his cheeks from dusting themselves pink.

“He’s right over there watching us, by the way. I think he’s waiting for you,” Burgie says, motioning his head behind him to where Snafu is standing in a corner. “I won’t hold you up.” He begins walking away but then turns back. “Oh yeah, don’t worry, I sneaked a look at your gift and I love it. I know you’ve probably been letting that torture you the whole time.”

Eugene snorts and Burgie gives him a clap on the back before going to join his wife. With him gone, Eugene can clearly see Snafu across the room. He shakes his head, smiling as walks over.

Snafu – no, Merriell greets him with the usual grin. “Wanna dance?”

fin.

p.s. i also made this playlist of songs i think snafu would listen to in the car :)

[crisalidaseason]

So, that came out of my brain while I was high on painkillers and watching good omens. A special thanks to @the-bureaucracts-are-everything for hosting this event (I meant to say a thanks on my last post but I genuinely forgot so here it is!)

Day 2: Flies

People didn't like flies, that Beelzebub already knew. And that wasn't something exclusive to humans, no, no! Many other beings expressed their despise for those creatures, even if everyone was careful about saying it near the prince of hell. At first, Beelzebub was upset about it, how could all of them feel disgust over such small and wonderful creatures that made Beelzebub's entire being? It was like an angel being disgusted of soft feathers, or humans and animals about flesh and bone. It made no sense.

But anger soon turned into malice, Beelzebub would feel joy in sending a swarm of flies to eat alive a particularly vocal demon that badmouthed their little flies, they loved to make the buzzing creatures appear in the most inconvenient places and do the nastiest things in order to cause terror to humans. The lord of flies was proud of their little beings, but a spark of worry started to form.

"bzzz" the little fly was quietly waiting on their lord's commands. The fly was happy, almost too happy to stay put. The lord had chosen it from all of the others.

Beelzebub lovingly gazed at the little one, thinking it that was the best one to behave as a container. Would Gabriel feel disgusted by it? They didn't want to admit, but if the angel expressed any sort of negative thoughts about the little one, Beelzebub would not be angry or mischiveous, they would be sad.

"I have a mission for you, sweet one" the demon softly said, supporting the fly on their finger "I need you to be someone's companion"

The little one buzzed again, in excitement.

"It is a gift" Beelzebub continued "which means you won't be with me anymore"

The fly's wings stopped and dropped down, the buzzing went silent.

"I know, little one. Do you want to stay? I can gift another one"

The fly seemed to think for a moment, maybe even considering staying with the demon, but also not wanting the demon to think less of it.

"You're my most trusted, little one" Beelzebub comforted "what about you meet my…counterpart? You can decide then if you want to stay with him"

The buzzing was still low.

"I will not be mad if you choose to stay, don't worry"

Beelzebub felt the buzzing of agreement, still reluctant. The lord of flies opened their pocket and the fly quickly entered, patiently waiting for the next command. Beelzebub checked their surroundings, not wanting to explain anything to nosy demons, and soon projected themselves to earth. They found Gabriel exactly were the angel said: at a cemetery. While the angel talked about the beauty of the statue, which Beelzebub had to admit was almost too creepily similar to the archangel, the demon wondered if the angel would ever look at them the same way. On the other hand, the fly was slightly buzzing, as if finding something funny.

"Shall we go to the pub?" the demon said, already heading to the ressurectionist.

The walk back to the pub was silent, in a rather comfortable way despite Beelzebub's worried thoughts. The little fly kept buzzing, increasing its excitement once they finally entered the pub and ordered some beverages and a packet of crisps. Once Beelzebub sat in the cushioned L-seat, they waited for the archangel to bring their drinks.

"Here you go" the angel said.

As gabriel sat down, Beelzebub curiously looked at the drinks, not really sure of what to do with it.

"You don't actually have to consume it" Gabriel continued.

"Oh" they felt a little relief, not wanting to explore foods or drinks quite yet

"And the…" the angel motioned to the bag beside the demon

"The packet of crisps? Good"

Beelzebub was completely nervous. The prince of hell, lord of flies, second in command, ruler of all lesser demons...was nervous. It was all that angel's fault and to worsen things, they recognized a tune from a while ago.

"Is that-did you?" the demon stuttered.

"A small miracle" the angel said "that song will always be there, on that jukebox, to comfort the aflicted"

Beelzebub could not hold the smile. They had forgotten about that song, but Gabriel using a miracle so recklessly, with no high purpose, sent a spark of happiness into the demon. The fly was buzzing loudly on their pocket, not being able to contain the mirrored excitement, sending Beelzebub many many little pleads to be gifted to the angel. It seemed the little one liked the angel, or at least liked how they made Beelzebub feel.

"I should give you something" the prince of hell said, silently asking the fly to materialize.

The demon extended their hand, and the little fly quickly materialized there. It was standing proud, waiting for its moment to shine.

"Here, it's for you" Beelzebub said "You never know when you'll need it. It's a container, it's bigger on the inside. You can put things in it"

The demon was rambling, trying to convince the angel that the little fly was useful despite the apparently disgusting opinions about its nature. They genuinely hoped Gabriel could see beyond the incomprehensible prejudice. Beelzebub carelessly took a box of matches, a bit nervous, giving it to the archangel. Their chest was tight as they watched Gabriel gently put the little fly inside the box.

"Bye bye!" the demon said to their little one.

The fly happily buzzed inside the box, completely satisfied. Gabriel gently put the box on his chest pocket. A small gesture that Beelzebub took kindly, the angel seemed completely alright with the little creature.

"I don actually know what to say" the angel confessed.

"Why not?"

Gabriel was surprised, brows contorted in wonder.

"No one has ever given me anything before"

Oh angel, Beelzebub thought, leaving a sigh of relief. They watched as Gabriel softly touched his chest pocket, as if not believing there was a gift in there. The angel smiled, looking at Beelzebub again.

"Thank you" Gabriel softly said.

Thank you, angel.

[imwritesometimes]

if he's on tatooine and looking for volunteers for Ms Shand and still hoping to go see his kid and might need assistance with that and a certain Marshal is on tatooine.... .... .............. ... .. .

[dreadlockholiday]

you have been having some HELLA good ideas in the form of random posts recently u go legend go

😂 I have, haven't i? Sadly I only seem to be able to have ideas and not act on them, I tried to write some earlier and all I did was yawn and stare at the doc for half an hour 😭😭 I have way too many ideas for my own good.

[paynnincorporated]

Word and Connor roleswap au!!

Basically, villain / bio-engineer Connor and smalltime gear mechanic Word. Responding accordingly, Moordryd’s “destiny” as Shadow Booster is handed to him by his father, and Artha has to do his father’s bidding on Beau.

More deets on this au:

Connor sets up Penn Inc (LOL THIS SOUNDS SO DUMB) and is essentially a bio-engineer sort of mad scientist. Canon word mostly experiments with tech/gear, villain Connor does experiments on dragons and breeds for all colours.

Word on the other hand, is in Mid City, and owns a gear/mechanic business. While he does make some gear, production is very home-made, not super commercialised like in canon. Business is also in-part via providing mechanic services ie fixing gear.

Idk whether Word remains a member of the Priesthood, though I feel like it'd be easier storywise for both dads to be priesthood exiles.

Word meets Zulay, who is still the DE leader but not power hungry lol. Fira on the other hand, is as ambitious as her husband.

Moordryd is still the leader of the Dragon Eyes Crew, and like in canon, his father passes him the SB amulet upon learning Connor has managed to create the Dragon of Legend. (SB Amulet is passed down through the DEs)

Artha is the one with the redemption arc in this au, and it's largely Lance who influences it I guess. Eventually, him, beau, lance all betray Connor or something, up till Meggy turns up.

As for Parm and Kitt, they work on Artha's side for monetary compensation but eventually have a “Cain’s Mutiny esque” scenario where they cement that their loyalties lie with Artha, not his dad. Lol redemption arcs for everyone.

DEs are all good eggs, so we get to see the DEs as a crew try and make Down City safer/better. Unfortunately, Connor's dragon breeding business (in all colours) means he's highly influential amongst the crews, even if his son's racing team is "crew-less"

Both Word and Connor are priesthood exiles (just to make things easier story wise). Word does not fake his death to traumatise Moordryd into becoming the SB/start racing. He already does that as part of his mother’s legacy. So Word is around as himself to dish out all the knowhow as a past Dragon Priest. Possible tension point is discovering his father lied about his mom dying due to something related to the amulet?? Idk yet.

I think the general gist of the au is other coloured draconium vs black!

Brain going bzzz with au ideas of late, with unfortunately very little motivation to draw :’) Also! I have DB merch I’m going to make soon for a local comic convention, might open it to international orders too, but it won’t be tooooooooo serious a shop or anything. Still a big Maybe as logistics are not my forte.

[monbebezen]

Your laying on Taehyung’s chest crying your eyes out for the third time this week. You had been having issues in your relationship lately and Tae had been there to help you through them.

“I can’t stand seeing you like this” Taehyung rubs the back of your head as you lay on his chest now sniffling. “He shouldn’t have said that, no matter how upset he was there is no excuse.” You play with the string on his hoodie nodding in agreement.

“This is why I love you, Tae you always know the right words to say. I.. kinda want to break up with him..this week has been nothing but hell and I honestly wouldn’t have gotten through it if it was not for you.” You hug Tae a little harder sinking further into him.

He loved moments like these the smallest things about you drove him crazy. He loved how you hugged him like you needed him, wanted him. He wanted that all the time. He wanted to be the reason you smiled, not this guy who’s been treating you like shit for the past week.

“Want to watch a movie?” Tae asks you now rubbing your back. He had such a calming effect on you, you always felt safe, like nothing could ever go wrong when you were with Tae. You shake the thoughts and perk up at the mention of movies. “Ohhh I choose Harry Potter we can have a marathon” you jump up and run over to his movie selection that you mostly have assembled. “Alright, suppose that is my cue to order some pizza” Taehyung says pulling out his phone.

A few hours into the marathon you are now completely snuggled up with Tae. You slowly start to nod off in his arms. “Hey sleepyhead” Tae nudges you. “yeah..” you say sleepily looking up at him. The air becomes still and time seems to stop as you two gaze into each others eyes, then Taehyung places his lips upon yours. Your brain tells you to stop, but your heart tells you to keep going. You kiss him back no hesitation...lost in a dream like state.

“bzzzz...bzzzz”

“bzz..bzzz”

You pull away hesitating to look at your phone.  

Can we talk?

I messed up and I am sorry but I want to apologize in person.

Your heart sinks, your throat knots up as you look up at Taehyung.

“It’s him..isn’t it” he face drops.

“Look Tae... he said he wants to talk...I..I should go..go hear him out you know” Incapable of making eye contact with him you give him a quick hug “I’m sorry..” you grab your things and head out the door leaving him on the couch by himself.

Taehyung sits in disbelief, tears slowly falling from his eyes. He had you, for one moment he had you and everything was perfect. He knew in that moment he had to either fight for your love or sit and watch your heart continuously be broken.

*authors note* I’m pretty sure I ended up changing a bit of this and making it for monsta x but I figured I would post it since it’s just been sitting in my drafts lol

[angel-riki]

Dazed & Dreaming {Ch. 1}

summary: Y/N's life was always quite normal, some may even consider it boring. However, Y/N enjoyed her simple life and the little pleasures it brought. Unfortunately, that all changed the day she found out her best friend's biggest secret. Her discovery leads her down a rabbit hole of a new and confusing world she never knew existed. She must now navigate this new life filled with love, fear, and the supernatural. What awaits her down this path?

pairing: enhypen x reader (vampire au)

warnings: light swearing

word count: 1,435

chapters: [Ch.2] [Ch.3] [Ch.4]

~~~~~~~~~~

The brisk autumn air pricked at your cheeks, making you shiver as you clutched your coat tighter around your body. You picked up your pace as your shoes tapped lightly against the pavement. Walking to school was nice this time of year, you loved the autumn scenery which was full of rich colors and leaves dancing in the wind. Winter on the other hand, was another story. It was also quite pretty, yet much more inconvenient and impractical. However, right now it was a pleasant walk.

Before you know it, you're at the entrance of your school, trudging up the stairs. Oh how you longed to be back in your warm, soft bed, asleep. You begrudgingly continued on your way when you heard a familiar voice ring out,

"Y/N! Wait up!"

You recognize the voice without even needing to turn around, it was Jake. Jake had been your best friend since he had moved here from Australia way back in middle school. He meant the world to you. You've grown so close over the years, he practically knows everything about you at this point. And you know all about him as well. You smiled and waved at the cheerful boy as he jogged to catch up with you. Slightly out of breath and with flushed cheeks, he greeted you,

"Good morninggg!" He drew out the last syllable with a dorky grin on his face. You giggled, he was always so cute without even trying.

"Good morning," you replied, happily.

"Kind of chilly this morning, huh? Did you walk to school again?" He asked.

"Yeah, I did. I always walk to school, you know that," you chuckled at his silly question.

"You knowww," he began,

Oh boy here we go, you thought.

"Heeseung would totally give you a ride to school if you'd like," he stated. Jake had made this offer to you a few times, however, you always declined. Heeseung was a close friend of Jake's yet he was merely an acquaintance to you at best, you would feel bad having him drive you around. Especially since he already gave Jake rides every morning.

Also not to mention, you found Heeseung incredibly attractive and you don't think your heart could handle that...

"No that's okay, I wouldn't want to impose," you politely declined like always. Jake sighed. You were always so considerate, almost to a fault.

"Y/N, Heeseung totally wouldn't mind, he isn't like that, you know." He smiled, trying to convince you to accept the offer. Especially, knowing that winter was just around the corner.

"I know...I just would rather not," you said trying to escape the topic as your cheeks began to heat up. Jake sighed defeatedly and decided to let it go as you both continued your way into the building.

*****

The end of the day couldn't come soon enough as you headed towards your final class; physics. Yay. You've always hated physics and although you were a straight A student, your grades suffered in that class. Thankfully, Jake was quite good at physics and was always happy to help. Over time, he basically became your tutor. You scanned the front board to see what the topic of the lesson was today. Like usual, you couldn't make sense of any of it. God, I wish I had Jake's brain, you thought to yourself.

As much as you tried not to, you ended up tuning out the teacher and his lecture as your mind wandered to anything but physics. Before you knew it, class was over and students began gathering their books and shuffling out of the classroom. Shit. I didn't pay attention to any of that. You mentally kicked yourself for slacking off. Well, at least the school day is over. You headed back to your locker where you saw Jake waiting for you.

"Hey Y/N, how was physics? I know it's your favorite class," he said sarcastically.

"Shut up," you slapped him playfully on the arm, "I actually totally zoned out the whole period. Therefore, I'm lost and you really have your work cut out for you as my tutor," you retorted.

He laughed and shook his head, "Y/N, you're killing me!" He said while jokingly clutching his chest in imaginary pain.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry I should honestly be paying you at this point," you laughed.

"Nah don't worry about it, I'm happy to help," he said. Gosh he's so sweet, you thought. Sometimes you felt like you didn't deserve him. But if you ever dared to say that out loud, you know you would receive an immediate rebuttal from him. Because that's just how Jake is.

*****

*BZZZ* *BZZZ* * BZZZ*

You rolled over and groaned. Ughhh, it's already time to get up? You had stayed up later than usual the night before. You had been facetiming with Jake as he tried to explain your physics homework to you. Unfortunately, it took you quite a while to understand it since you hadn't paid attention in class earlier that day.

Just 5 more minutes...you thought as you lazily snoozed your alarm.

*****

Your eyes fluttered open as you awoke for the second time. Hm, that's weird. Why didn't my alarm go off yet? You grabbed your phone to check the time. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright screen. Oh shit. You had overslept for 45 minutes. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You mentally cursed at yourself as you scrambled to get ready in half the time you usually do. You frantically threw on your school uniform and hurried to the bathroom to brush you teeth. You gasped as you saw your reflection. You had the worst bed head you had EVER seen. Just my luck. You quickly threw your hair up into a half updo. Guess I'm going for the messy look today. You hurried downstairs and grabbed a granola bar on your way out. You headed down your driveway only to see a car parked on the side of the road right in front of your house. You were a bit confused but as you got closer you were met with two familiar faces. Oh no. This is Heeseung's car. Your stomach did a backflip. Heeseung smiled and gave a small wave as Jake greeted you from the passenger seat,

"Hey, Y/N! Sorry for the surprise, I knew you would never accept the ride but the weather's getting colder and I don't want you to get sick," Jake rambled.

"Jake told me that you walk to school every morning, but I don't mind giving you a ride, it's no problem at all," Heeseung added with a kind smile.

You appreciated the kind gesture, however, you were mortified. Here you were, looking like the hottest mess of the century in front of the hottest boy of the century. This can't be happening. Of all days, why today?!

You smiled meekly, "Wow, uh, thank you that's very kind of you! I guess I'll take you up on that offer since you already went out of your way to come here," you said apologetically. The two boys smiled at you as you opened the car door and climbed into the back seat.

*****

So far, the ride had been fairly quiet until Jake suddenly broke the silence,

"Y/N, did you do something different with your hair?" Jake asked as he turned around to face you.

God, why did he have to bring that up??

"Uh, yeah, I actually woke up late and my hair was a mess so I just tried to make the best of it," you laughed nervously.

"Ohh, well it looks nice!" he complimented.

"Yeah, you look cute." Heeseung added with his eyes still on the road.

You froze. Your brain began malfunctioning as you tried to compute what Heeseung just said. He called me cute. You chuckled anxiously as you felt your cheeks burning up.

"Thank you," you said shyly.

Jake had noticed your abrupt change in body language, which confused him. But then, it all clicked. Oh...She has a crush on Heeseung. He didn't know how he hadn't noticed it sooner. He grinned to himself, amused by his realization. Suddenly, it made sense why you never accepted a ride.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, guys! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I know it was a bit slow, but once the introductory part is out of the way, hopefully things will pick up the pace. Regardless, thank you for reading! I am also uploading this series on wattpad, so if you’d like to support it over there, that would mean a lot! I'm hoping to publish new chapters a couple times a week so keep your eyes peeled hehehe

~Elle <3

[chil2de]

Hi! So I saw that your requests are open and is it okay if I request part two of the headcanons of Haikyuu characters being sent nudes by their girlfriend? Iwaizumi, Kageyama, Tendou and/or Ushijima this time? Thank you in advance if you happen to respond!

bzzz! - various haikyuu x reader

yes! thank you for requesting part 2 i had so much fun writing part one LMAOOO (and wow, can we just.. i mean... like 135 notes for a crack post? am i being spoiled rn😳) ! there’s some nsfw themes (for obvious reasons) and all characters are aged up :) enjoy!

read part 1 here if you haven’t already !

iwaizumi

- will definitely make some ungodly sound LMFAODJFH

- probably minding his business, cooking food w his mother at the table

- he’ll sound like a strangled cat, has never swiped off of a photo so fast in his life

- excuses himself to another room

- angry keyboard warrior typing, he’s all like

- “what is wrong with you”

- you just send another photo LOL

- DEFINITELY BLUSHING

- LISTEN

- he might be acting like this but this guy…

- he is literally thinking about all the things he wants to do to you

- HE IS DEFINITELY THE TYPE

- iwaizumi just lets out the most cockiest laugh, exhaling sharply

- does that thing where you pinch the bridge of your nose out of agitation

- “yeah? think you’re gonna act like that if i come over rn?”

- the absolute SPEED his resolve changes

- one minute he’s lecturing you the next threatening to fuck your brains out like okay thank you, we all know you’re just holding it in at this point

kageyama

- revising with hinata at the library

- they’re both working on a maths equation w their phones face down on the table so that they’re not tempted to message

- kageyama’s phone just vibrates

- they both ignore it cause they’ve restarted the revision session at least twenty times now

- “kageyama, your phone keeps buzzing”

- “i know you idiot, i can hear it”

- “aren’t you going to do anything?”

- “no, we’ve restarted too many times, let’s just keep going”

- bzzzz!

- “kageyama…”

- “uh-huh”

- bzzzzzz!

- “umm..”

- bzzzzzzzzzz!

- “okayokay, oh my god i got it”

- picks up his phone, eyebrows creasing when he sees your name pop up on snapchat

- but…. he told you he was revising

- literally chokes on the air he was breathing

- his eyes blow wide w shock (probably the arousal tbh) and he’s just staring at his phone with his lips slightly parted

- instantly turns his phone off and slams it face down onto the table, completely ignoring his erection LOL

- hinata just stares at him like …….

- “kage-“

- “shut up, idiot! we’re still revising!”

- his phone goes off again

- and again

- he picks it up again, mentally preparing himself for the worst

- yeah and the photo is more lewd this time, it took him over the edge

- he can hear hinata squeak as he tries to look at his phone and instantly slams hinata’s face into the table, getting up with his bag already over his shoulder

- doesn’t even say why he’s leaving, just leaves staring at his phone w the dirtiest smirk on his face

tendou

- 1000% the type to hum when he’s happy oh my god literally a million times over whenever he’s joyful he’s definitely out n about humming songs to himself

- ushijima’s just tryna ask him a question when his phone goes off

- “one sec,”

- he picks the phone up, lifting it to his ear,

- “hey, angel- what’s up?”

- for such a smooth and sweet talking mf, he knows exactly how to press your buttons

- acting all sweet and showering you with pet names but he knows exactly what you want

- “oh, you sent me a photo? can it wait, baby girl? sorry, i’m out with ushijima”

- you can hear the mocking tone laced into his words

- “whaaat? it’s urgent? really, you want me to look at it that badly?”

- ushijima looks confused as hell

- hes like dude just open it its a photo

- just stands off to the side waiting LMFAO he doesnt wanna take chances this guy already knows

- come on… ushijima’s seen the giant crimson coloured scratches littering tendou’s back whenever he changes shirts before/after practice,

- ushijima might be stoic as hell and be unable to read expressions but my guy knows that those marks are not cat scratches

- “hang on, ushijima, can you gimme a sec?”

- “yeah.”

- tendou hums a small tune, biggest grin stretching from ear to ear

- walks a few steps forward to make sure ushijima is out of earshot

- “you really couldn’t wait, huh? want me to come over and put you in your place, baby girl?”

ushijima

- oh my god this guy

- LMFAO

- absolutely DOES NOT know how to react

- prob just finished a workout, half naked w another towel around his neck

- takes a sip of his water bottle whilst scrolling through his phone

- checks the message from his girlfriend first (obviously, he loves you)

- squeezes the water bottle with a little bit more aggression than necessary

- d-does he say something? send one back? not respond?

- hell does he just show up on your doorstep?????

- has the most fucked up thoughts about how he’s gonna handle you but he doesn’t know how to respond to a photo LOL

- imagine this guy leaves you on opened but

- hes tryna think of how to respond

- listen he literally cannot think straight with this hard-on he’s like wtf am i supposed to do now

- starts pacing up and down the bathroom LODNBGHDBF

- ends up messaging u after like 5 minutes

- u see the “ushiwaka is typing…..” and ur like fuckin finally

- “i’m on my way”

- nice one, ushijima

- you smooth bastard

[mammonshuman92]

- Homecoming - Pt.2

(Keishin x F!Y/N)

**TW: cussing, implied seggs

He stood up slowly and turned around. His eyes as big as saucers when they fell on you. Was he actually asleep right now, having the dream. This couldn't actually be happening..

You took a step forward and smiled. The same smile that was forever etched in his mind.

"Hi, Keishin. Long time no see."

"Y/N..?"

-

His heart hammered against his rib cage so hard the sound flooded his ears. For a moment, he was sure you could hear it too.

Is this.. real? I’m not dreaming..? This kind of crap doesn’t actually happen outside of cheesy movies..

But, much to his surprise, it was.

You were actually here, standing ten feet in front of him. How many times had he thought of this exact scenario? What was he supposed to say after ten years?

God, you were just as beautiful as you had always been, maybe even more so. Your eyes, big and full of life, still shined so brightly. You radiated warmth and light that was enough to put the sun itself to shame. He still couldn’t help but be captivated by you.

Pull yourself together, moron. You can’t just stare at her, she’s gonna think you’re a creep..

“Yeah, it’s me.” You said, nodding your head with a smile.

“Wow.. You look great.”

WHAT?! Why’d you say that?!

You giggled, “Thank you. I almost didn’t recognize you with the long hair. It really suits you though, I like it.” He was pretty sure he spotted a little pink on your cheeks, but couldn’t be sure since his brain had pretty much stopped functioning.

“Oh, t-thanks, um, w-what are you doing here? I-I mean, h-how are you?”

Smooth, dumbass.

His stuttering elicited another giggle from you. It was bubbly and bright and made his heart ache.

He held up a finger, gesturing for you to wait a minute. He took off his apron as he went behind the counter and hurried into the back room. He asked his mom if she would watch the shop so he could leave for a bit.

When he emerged a couple minutes later, you were still standing where he had left you. He was scared that when he came back you’d be gone, only having been a figment of his desperate imagination. But, there you stood, looking around the store. When your eyes fell on him, you smiled. The one that had both haunted him and brought him comfort the last several years.

“Sorry about that,” he began, as he rounded the counter and came closer to you, “Uh, do you maybe wanna take a walk? Or, I don’t know, get some coffee and catch up a little?”

“I’d like that.” You said with a smile.

“So, where were we?” Keishin asked nervously, mostly to himself. He was so flustered that he wasn’t acting like himself. His brain wasn’t working the way he needed it to. Hopefully you wouldn’t catch on. The last thing he needed was for you to think he was a weirdo.

“Well, I think you were trying to ask me how I’ve been but it kinda came out jumbled and messy.” You teased, pulling a groan out of him.

No, yeah. She definitely caught on. Is there a rock nearby I can crawl under..?

“Stop, I’m kidding!” You smacked his arm playfully before continuing. “Let’s see. I suppose I’ve been good. Went to college and got my degree in education. High school English to be exact.” You said, the two of you arriving at the coffee shop.

The coffee shop was just down the street and after ordering, you decided to sit outside at a small table under a tree.

“You always did want to be a teacher. So, uh, how about your s/o? What do they do?” He silently prayed to himself that you weren’t seeing anyone and that you also wouldn’t see through his not so graceful way of bringing it up.

You laughed, “I’m married to my career. Dating is...not for me.” Keishin silently let out the breath he’d been holding.

“What about you?” You asked curiously.

“Not really interested.” He said with a shrug.

“So, high school huh? Teenagers are quite a handful.” He said, changing the subject.

“That they are. You have a lot of experience with teenagers?” You asked, blowing on your coffee and taking a sip.

“Yes. Well, only since recently. I started coaching the boys volleyball team at Karasuno.” For some reason that little bit of information made you smile.

“You still play volleyball?” You asked, seeming excited. 

“Yep, mostly coaching though. Besides, it kinda runs in the family.” You nodded in agreement.

“That it does. I actually ended up playing in high school and college.” He sat back a little in his chair, eyebrows raised slightly.

“Really? What position?” He asked, a little shocked.

You always played volleyball together growing up, but he thought you only did so because it’s what he always wanted to do. He didn’t think you actually enjoyed it.

“I was the Ace.” Your answer made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, feigning a pout. It only made him fall for you harder, if that were even possible.

“Nothing. Just, when we were younger you kinda sucked at it.” He confessed. You smacked his arm again.

“It was honestly one of the main things that reminded me of my time here.” You explained, tone becoming serious. You looked kinda sad as you reminisced.

Did she ..miss me too? No, she had a whole life here. Don’t get your hopes up..

“And, I got to learn from THE Ukai’s. It would’ve been a shame to let years of free training go to waste” You added sounding more upbeat, quickly changing the mood.

You leaned back in your chair and looked up at the tree the two of you sat under. The sun was shining brightly, illuminating your face, making you seem ethereal. He was positive he’d never see anything or anyone else as beautiful as you.

“So, what brings you all the way to Japan? How long are you staying?” He was kind of scared to ask. You just came back. He didn’t want to let go of you yet. Or at all, for that matter.

You sat back up, practically bouncing in your seat.

“Well, I accepted a job offer.” You said, prompting Keishin to pause for a minute.

“What?” His voice was barely above a whisper. His heart started beating faster.

“I actually got here a few days ago. I closed the deal on a house a few weeks back, but had to wait for all the paperwork to be finalized. I picked up the keys this morning.”

She's...moving back?

"Wow. Wait, when you say job offer..?"

"You're looking at the new English teacher at Karasuno High!" You beamed.

He didn’t know what to say. 

He imagined you coming back countless times. But, now that it was actually happening? He was speechless.

“You’re coming back?” Was all he could manage.

You nodded, smiling at his obvious question, “Technically I’m already here, but yeah.”

“And you’re staying? You’re not gonna leave again?” He noticed your expression change slightly, a subtle look of sadness creeping in. 

He didn’t intend for the last question to sound so desperate, but he couldn’t help it. He was desperate.

“I’m staying.” You said, nodding. Your voice was soothing, almost as if you knew why he’d asked.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

“Who the hell..” He grumbled quietly, making you laugh.

He not so silently cursed whoever was calling and interrupting his time with you, as he dug his phone from his pocket.

Takinoue..

“What?” He hissed into the phone.

“Whoa, attitude. Just calling to see where you are, man. Everyone is waiting on you.” 

“Huh?”

“The scrimmage game? With the boys team? Ya know, the one you planned weeks ago?”

Keishin checked the time, “Shit! Okay, I’ll be there in a few.” He looked over, you looking back at him questioningly. He didn’t want to part ways with you just yet. There was still so much to catch up on.

“If you don’t have anything else planned, how would you feel about watching a game?” He asked as you both stood from your seats, hoping you’d say yes.

“And get the chance to see the newest Coach Ukai in action? Count me in.” You smiled brightly at him, his cheeks felt warm at your unexpected excitement.

-

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s gonna watch the scrimmage game.” Keishin announced.

To say that everyone was surprised, was an understatement.

On one hand, the Association team members that also knew you, never would have expected that you of all people would be here and also be the reason Keishin was late.

And on the other hand, the boys team never expected to see their coach with a girl. Especially a pretty one.

“That’s her, Coach! The absolute goddess that was looking for you the other day!” Tanaka yelled, pointing at you.

“You’re right!” Nishinoya agreed, “Man, she’s way out of his league.”

You pressed your lips together trying not to laugh. Keishin glared at you, then at the two boys.

Daichi smacked both of them on the back of the head.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” Suga said, bowing to you.

“Maybe I should’ve mentioned that Y/N, will actually be Ms. L/N to most of you, since she’s the new English teacher.” Keishin explained with a shit eating grin, thinking that they’d be embarrassed at the thought of talking to their teacher like that.

You put your hand up, waving slightly, “It’s nice to meet all of you. I look forward to having you in class.”

“We get to see her everyday?!” Noya asked, perking up.

“Did I die? Is this Heaven?” Tanaka added, looking toward the ceiling, hands in a praying position.

Two more smacks could be heard, as well as another apology from Suga.

-

The game was close, the neighborhood team holding onto a lead over Karasuno for most of the first match, but Karasuno pulled through and took the set. During the second set, neither team could get much of a lead over the other, Karasuno managed to break up the momentum though, taking a solid lead and winning the game.

“You coming for drinks?” Takinoue asked, stopping you both as everyone was leaving.

Just like every other game, the association team was going out for drinks at their usual spot. It’s pretty much a tradition now. But, this time you were here. He doesn’t want to forfeit a single ounce of time to anything else unless he absolutely has to. For the first time in such a long time he felt like the weight on his chest was gone, he could breathe again.

“Sure, that sounds like f-”

“We have plans.” Keishin interjected, giving his friend a look.

Takinoue looked at his friend a second, then nodded in understanding.

“Next time then.” He said, smiling at you before walking away to join the rest of the team.

When they were all far enough away, you turned to Keishin.

“So, plans huh?” You asked casually.

It was still kind of early when the game ended, the sun was just barely starting to set, the sky streaked with brilliant pinks and oranges as you left the gym.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, sorry. That was an excuse to get out of going with them. They can be kind a handful once alcohol gets involved.” He explained.

“Ah. Well, that’s probably best. I’ve got a lot of unpacking left to do anyway.” You groaned slightly at the thought of unpacking.

“Need any help?” He offered immediately.

“Really? No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not, I’m offering. And anyway, we didn’t get a chance to finish catching up.”

You nodded, smiling, “Okay, we can order take out. I’ve also got beer.”

If you’d have suggested bobbing for electric eels, he would’ve done it. He would do anything to continue spending time with you, because after all these years he finally felt whole again.

-

“So, what’d you think of the game?” He asked, picking up a box labeled ‘glassware’ and taking it to the kitchen, setting it gently on the counter.

“I think you’ve done a great job with them, Keishin.” You said, getting bites of take out in-between the boxes you were unpacking in the living room, “Those first years are really something to be reckoned with.”

“That they are. Hey, maybe next time we scrimmage I can talk you into playing on the neighborhood team.” He said, as he re-entered the room.

“Maybe. I don’t want to hear any complaining when you lose though.” You said, smiling devilishly.

He laughed at you and picked up the box next to his feet, this one was unlabeled but had a volleyball sticker on it and random little doodles. Your eyes widened when you realized what box it was.

“I can take that one.” You said, crossing the room quickly. You tried not to be obvious, but it didn’t work. He could tell something was up.

“Oh, okay.” He said, extending the box to you. Before you could reach for it, he pulled it back, seeing something extremely familiar through the slightly opened box, he reached inside.

“No, wait!” You squeaked, turning red.

He pulled out a delicate gold necklace. The very one he’d given you as teenagers. The one with his name on it. He looked at you, holding it gently in his hand.

“You still have this?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, heart pounding away in his chest.

You sighed heavily, still blushing hard. Without a word, you opened the box in his hands the rest of the way, showing him the rest of its contents. He gasped lightly.

She kept it all..

The box was like a time capsule. CD’s you’d burned together for summer volleyball drills, movie ticket stubs from your first real date, notes passed in class, the stuffed iguana he gave you for your ninth birthday, and so, so many pictures from your childhood; birthdays, holidays, summer vacations.

There was something else in there under all the pictures. He dug to the bottom and found several dozen envelopes. All addressed to him. His eyes widened, slowly pulling them out of the box.

“Ah! I forgot those were in there!” You screeched, trying to get them away from him.

“Oh, yeah? Must be good if you’re this desperate to get them back.” 

After struggling to jump up and grab the envelopes from him, where he held them above his head, you admitted defeat.

“Fine! You win.” You threw your hands up, walking into the kitchen “I need booze for this.”  You muttered to yourself.

They were letters you had written to him after you left but never sent. They all seemed to be around the time you’d lost contact with each other. Dozens of letters, telling him how everything was going with starting over in America, how much you missed him and wanted to come back to Japan, ...how much you loved him. They held so many words of love, but also their fair share of sadness.

His heart hammered away in his chest as he skimmed over the letters.

She missed me too..

Although he hates to see that you were sad after leaving, it also makes him feel relieved. After the two of you lost contact, he was sure you’d just moved on with your life and had forgotten about him. In a way, he wanted that for you; to move on and live a normal happy life. But on the other hand, he hoped he stuck out in your mind, that you’d always love him like you promised you would, the way he loved you. The way he still loves you.

Calm down, idiot. We were teenagers then. Just because she felt that way at one time doesn’t mean she still does. It’s been a really long time.. she probably moved on...

“I was hoping to avoid this conversation..” Your voice startled him, unsure of when you re-entered the room. He looked up from the letters to see you leaned against the doorway that led from the kitchen to the living room. You pushed off the wall and walked over to the box and picked up a handful of pictures, smiling as you flipped through the memories.

“Why didn’t you send them?” He asked curiously, scanning the letters again.

“I didn’t think you’d want them.” You shrugged.

“What made you think that?” He looked over at you.

“Well, it was after we stopped talking, I kinda just assumed you forgot about me.”

As if I ever could

“I thought the same thing about why you stopped talking to me. Looks like some serious miscommunication on our part.”

You laughed lightly, “Yeah, I guess so, huh?

“Kinda makes me wonder how things would’ve turned out had we stayed in contact.” He said.

There were so many things he wanted to say to you, wanted to tell you. The years of being miserable, trying to keep himself together with your memories. He swore that if he were ever given the chance to reconnect with you, he’d tell you everything he’s kept bottled up inside the last ten years. 

Yet, here he was, in the exact situation he’d always begged the universe to give him, and all he was doing was trying to avoid anything that might make you disappear again. He was scared, terrified. He didn’t want to lose you again. He couldn’t lose you again. 

But, he couldn’t live like this anymore. He couldn’t live another ten years like the last. He knew what he had to do.

He put the letters he had been holding back in the box gently, still holding the delicate necklace in his hand, he turned to face you.

Here goes nothing..

“Y/N, I love you.” 

“What?” You choked out.

“I said, I love you. I never stopped, actually.” He began, your eyes widening in shock.

He took a deep breath then let it out slowly before continuing.

“The day you left was the worst day of my life. After I didn’t hear from you anymore, I thought you had moved on. I thought about going to the US a few times to find you, but I didn’t want to disrupt your life. If you were happy, then I could be happy for you. Even if it wasn’t with me. Not a single day has gone by when I didn’t feel like part of my soul was missing.” He confessed.

“I’ve been wishing for the opportunity to see you again, to tell you everything. I don’t expect you to feel the same, you don’t even have to talk to me anymore if it’ll be too awkward, but I needed you to know.”

“Keishin..”

“I know it’s a lot, and I’m really sorry to just dump it all on you..” He kept rambling.

“Keishin.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Do you want me to leave? I’m gonna leave.” 

“Keishin!” You yelled, finally getting his attention.

He stopped his nervous rambling and looked at you. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“I had been looking at houses in this area for a while and I checked out the school just out of curiosity. When I saw the opening for an English teacher, I jumped on it. It felt like a sign, as cheesy as that sounds.” You laughed.

“I didn’t really think any of it through, I just...did it. It wasn’t until this morning when I was walking to the shop when I thought that maybe I messed up..”

“Messed up?” He echoed, prompting you to keep going.

You nodded sheepishly, “I wasn’t sure what I was going to walk into. I didn’t know if you were married and had a family, or if you were even around here anymore. I actually turned to leave after I came in because I was too nervous to follow through with it, but then I heard your voice and I couldn’t help myself. I needed to see you.” You moved closer, stopping only a few feet away from him. “What I’m trying to say is, I never stopped either. Never stopped thinking about you, missing you..loving you. I, too, haven’t had a day go by without you being on my mind, without wanting to see you again and tell you how much I still love you.”

He closed the small gap between the two of you, staring into your e/c eyes. He reached both hands behind your neck and fumbled with something for a moment. You felt a new, added weight. He removed his hands, one moving to the pendant that first adorned your neck so long ago. He smiled as he ran his fingers across his name.

“I wore it everyday for a long time, but the chain eventually broke. Once I got it fixed I put it up so nothing else would happen to it.” You explained, heart racing. Your cheeks felt hot and your breathing was a little fast because of how close he was.

He moved his hand from the pendant to the side of your neck, thumb resting on your jaw. His free hand resting gently on your waist. He leaned down until his face was just inches from yours.

“Since the summer before fourth grade and even now, it’s only ever been you. It will always be you, Y/N.” You stared into his eyes as your own became glassy, your cheeks turning red.

“Can I?” He whispered, glancing down at your lips, then back up to hold your gaze again. You nodded eagerly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers quickly finding their way into his hair.

He wasted no time, pressing his lips to yours in an instant, you let out a tiny whimper. You both had only dreamt of this moment for so long, now that it was actually happening it felt so surreal. Your lips moved together in perfect synchronization as you stayed tightly pressed to one another, terrified that you’d wake up from a dream if you were to let go. What lasted only a few minutes, felt like hours. You were in heaven.

When you finally broke apart, drunk on one another and breathless, you rested your forehead on his, soaking up the moment.

“I love you, Keishin. I don’t ever want to be without you again.” You cooed.

“Marry me then.”

“What?” You pulled back to look at him, expecting him to be joking but he was absolutely serious.

“I was lucky enough to get a second chance and I’m not going to waste it. So, instead of wearing it on a necklace, I’ll get you a ring and it can be your name too.” He was beaming. He hadn’t been this happy in so long. He felt so light, full of love and life.

You nodded vigorously, unable to form words because of the growing lump in your throat. He pulled you in tight, pressing his lips to yours once again. The rest of the night was spent catching up. In more ways than one.

When he awoke the next morning, tired yet well rested, with you curled up sleeping peacefully at his side, he realized that he didn’t have his usual nightmare. And he never would again, thanks to you. He was finally at peace.

[yodawgiherd]

Indecent Proposal

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: T/M

Random thoughts go booom hahaha Another worthless drabble of mine....

Parties, now that was never Mikasa’s thing. High school ones were pain and college ones were not that much better. She would prefer to read a good book or something, but social standards demanded that she shows up to at least some. And Mikasa managed to survive them all, the crowning one surely being the party where she met Armin and Eren for the first time.

Unfortunately, her new boyfriend (damn that word felt weird) couldn’t make it to this one, because as a medical student he was quite literally swamped with schoolwork. But Armin did go, so Mikasa tagged along with Sasha, hoping to find at least some fun. And honestly, it was okay. The music was nice, the food (as Sasha claimed) was fine, and the drinks were plenty. Mikasa enjoyed herself – they played beer pong where she and Armin totally bodied the other pair, buzzed from the game she even danced to the music, swaying in rhythm. To top it off, she took part in a game of truth and dare and ended up kissing Sasha, to the great enjoyment of every male in attendance.

Even now, sitting on a couch and resting her legs because strutting around in her heavy boots was taxing,  a half-empty drink in her hand, Mikasa was enjoying this. Sasha was sprawled on the floor in a food-induced coma, Armin drank too much and was out cold in the bathroom. The party was ending, slowly but surely, people were leaving either alone or in pairs, and Mikasa was just thinking about waking her friends up when an unfamiliar figure sat down next to her.

“Hey there,” the guy said, “Liking the party?”

“Yeah, It’s fine, a bit dying though.”

He smirked, his eyes roving all over her body. Mikasa was not dressed provocatively in any way, and compared to the other party-goers she was definitely on the modest scale – her outfit was the usual long black top and skirt combo, black tights, and her trademark leather boots. Choker, necklaces, earrings, piercings, and rings on her fingers, Mikasa was in her comfort clothing, but apparently it was still attractive enough to be hit on. She might have been drunk, but his next words made that quite clear.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful girl on her own... Want some company?”

Mikasa almost told him to fuck off, her usual defense system, but then a thought popped up in her head. She had a brand new reason not to let herself be fucked randomly at a party.

“I have a boyfriend.”, she said sweetly, her black lips curled into a smile.

She, in her naivety, thought that it would be enough. Bzzz, wrong.

“Well, he’s not here now, is he?”, the guy shuffled closer, “But I am…”

Now that they were up close and personal, he studied her face more intently, obviously enjoying what he saw.

“Damn but you are so beautiful,”, he reached out, his hand coming dangerously close to Mikasa’s cheek, “Can I just…”

Too close. Too fucking close. Quick as a viper, Mikasa caught his hand before it could reach her skin, twisting it away. The entranced look quickly changed into one of surprise and pain when she kept pulling until he was forced from the couch and down to his knees.

“Don’t touch me.”, she whispered in that quiet voice that Sasha claimed sent shivers down her spine.

“Hey! Easy there!”, surprised that she subdued him so quickly, he tried to free his hand but to no avail, “I didn’t mean anything by it!”

Remembering that the last time she broke a boy’s hand for touching her caused all kinds of trouble, and also realizing that it was way out of line, Mikasa let go. He shook his hand, grimaced at the pain, and stood up, looking at her with a new measure of respect, a bit of fear sprinkled in.

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s not like I wanted to hurt you…”

He was right, of course, this was a college party, people came here to touch each other. But just the thought made Mikasa sick to her stomach, even more vile now when she was dating someone. She was… claimed? Was that a word?

In her defense, she told him so, and yet he still tried going for her, so Mikasa offered no apologies on her part. Instead, she frowned at the guy, showing that this exchange was over. Luckily for him, he understood.

“Fine, have it your way.”, he turned and left, but Mikasa caught what left his lips when he shook his wrist, “Freakishly strong…”

Suddenly not enjoying the party that much anymore, Mikasa woke Sasha up and collected the shitfaced Armin from the bathroom. As she was helping him down the stairs, she saw the guy who approached her currently engaged with another girl. Mikasa’s refusal did nothing to shake him because he was going to town. Their lips were glued together while one of her legs was wrapped around his waist, his hand sliding up the exposed thigh and under her dress. Ignoring the scene, she pushed past with Armin on her shoulder and Sasha behind, so she didn’t see the smug look he threw at her back.

After parking Sasha in their dorm room, she helped Armin walk through the silent campus to his. Letting herself in with the blond’s keys she took off his shoes and deposited him to the bed, looking over her friend. He looked fine, even passed out, so Mikasa marked her escort mission as complete. But just as she was about to leave and head back to her and Sasha’s place, her eyes wandered to the closed door of Eren’s room. It was late, so one could assume that he was sleeping, most likely exhausted from school.

Still… she wanted to see him.

It was most definitely caused by the party – the alcohol made her bold and all the groping and kissing she saw made Mikasa crave some for herself. She and Eren were still at the beginning of their relationship, a bit over two weeks since their short breakup, and after that outburst he respected her boundaries perfectly, even more than before. And yet her feet carried Mikasa to his door, opening it and slipping inside, silent as a ghost.

It was dark, but from the moonlight she could recognize Eren’s body on the bed, motionless peaceful mass. That was bound the change because the dorm bed was not big and when Mikasa slipped under the covers she had to rest half of her body on his chest, otherwise she would fall. Tucked beneath his chin, arms wrapped around the expanding and collapsing chest, she felt him slowly stir into wakefulness. Eren’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, his dreams invaded by Mikasa’s pleasant scent. Soon after his eyes fluttered open and now he was gazing down at her body, pressed so closely against his. Okay, he thought to himself, that’s one thing to wake up to.

“Mikasa?”, he tried carefully, unsure what to make of this.

Honestly, he was scared shitless that Mikasa might regret this in the morning and leave him again, that short period of not having her in his life was not enjoyable at all. He had to defuse the situation carefully.

“Yeeees?”, she drawled from beneath him, her voice uncharacteristically sultry.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Pulling back to get a good look at her face, Eren took in the ruddy cheeks and shiny eyes, his brain finally remembering that she was at a party.

“You’re drunk.”

“I think so.”, she confessed, “Why are you asking?”

“Just making sure. Now let me repeat, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your dorm?”

“I don’t want to, I want to be here with you.”, her hands slid over his chest, coming up to cup Eren’s head, “What do you want us to do?”

God damn it this was hard. He wanted her, with every part of his being, he wanted her so much. Mikasa was quite literally the most beautiful woman he ever saw and having her here in the bed with him, so freely offering herself, was a trial by fire.

But.

She was not thinking straight. She was drunk. They would both regret this in the morning. No, he would not betray her trust like this. He was not a monster.

“Look, you are intoxicated, so let’s not do something we would be sorry about.”, he stroked her cheek gently, “Okay?”

Mikasa took a shuddering breath, blinked a few times, and then it finally seemed to click for her. Her sexy expression got replaced by an embarrassed one, cheeks growing even redder.

“Sorry I…”, she began, but Eren didn’t mean to torment her.

“You can sleep here if you want.”, he offered.

Seeing her nod, he smiled.

“Let me help you out of the clothes,”, realizing what he said, his ears grew red to match hers, “J-Just so you are comfortable, of course.”

With a switch that turned on the light, Eren made Mikasa sit on the bed as he unzipped her skirt, helping her slide that fabric down her hips. After that his hands went to her tights, and despite their conversation Mikasa found herself enjoying his gentle touches. Closing her eyes and biting her bottom lip, she imagined what it would be if Eren’s hands weren’t careful but rough, if he yanked that offending fabric away in a heat of passion instead of this. Her mind filled with the images from the party, she would like to know how Eren’s hands would feel on her skin if he touched her there and…

“You okay?”, came his voice, making her eyes open, “You looked spaced out a second.”

“I’m fine, good.”, she stood up abruptly, now dressed only in her shirt and panties, “Need to use the bathroom first.”

Once there Mikasa made sure to remove her make-up as much as she could, as Eren would probably not appreciate having his bedding stained by dark colors. Taking out her earrings and necklaces, she cluttered them to a bowl alongside the rings. Finally, she unclasped her bra and choker and looked at herself in the mirror, the pale reflection staring back.  The pink dusting was still present on her cheeks, and Mikasa blushed even harder when she realized that she almost made a huge mistake. Her intimacy was still an unbreached territory and having a shot at it while being drunk was not something she wanted. So after coming back and crawling into the bed with Eren, she made sure to kiss him softly, murmuring a quick thank you.

He just chuckled, stroking her hip gently. And here, tucked into his body, Mikasa fell asleep happily.

Parties, now that was never Mikasa’s thing. High school ones sucked, college ones weren’t much better but hey, she met her fiancé at one of them. Now, a full-fledged adult, Mikasa was still required to attend some, because her job simply came with that.

It was customary to have a celebration when they wrapped a photoshoot, and because she was the leading girl for this collection it would be an insult not to show up. Unfortunately, Eren was busy with hospital work, so after toying with the idea of inviting Levi as her plus one Mikasa took Sasha. The girl was ecstatic, very quickly wheeling her way to the food table and getting busy there.

Watching her with a faint smile, Mikasa had to admit that she was growing fond of parties lately. The ones she had with her friends at the Third Wheel were amazing, and she thoroughly enjoyed them all. But this, being thrown into an unknown environment, was something else altogether. Sure, she knew some people here. She knew Kiyomi, Dot, and the girls she worked with, but that was still a small number compared to everyone. Hizuru was a big company, and when it threw a party it was an equally grand one.

So here she was, stuffed into a black strapless dress and those pretty high heels that Eren got for her. To annoy her boss Mikasa took her time and painted her face with the usual black makeup, even picked a choker to adorn her neck. It didn’t sit well with the overall vibe, but she liked it, too bad.

Her moment of observing wild Sasha Braus in its natural habitat was interrupted when a voice spoke up behind her.

“That’s an impressive tattoo you have.”

Oh, did she get noticed by a fellow tattoo enthusiast? Excited for a second she turned but her fantasy was quickly debunked when the man’s eyes immediately dipped into her cleavage. Nevermind.

“Why thank you.”, she replied with the sweetest smile she could muster, “It's a matching one with my fiancé.”

Mikasa put a special emphasis on that word, hoping that he will take the hint. And, once again, was left disappointed.

“Well, he’s not here now, is he?”

And he stepped closer, entering Mikasa’s safe space. She could tell him off, use her usual ice voice, but no, she was feeling extra bitchy tonight. Maybe it was because of the party, maybe because this asshole used the exact same words as that one from years back, but Mikasa was ready to play with him. She was tipsy, but alcohol didn’t make her more open to advances, it did the exact opposite. When drunk, Mikasa got even more territorial than usual.

“All right, fine, I’m game.”, she leaned forward with feigned interest, making his eyes slide down to her chest, “What do you have for me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you want me to cheat on my fiancé right? So why should I? What do you offer?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea.”, luckily for him he didn’t touch her, but his voice dropped low into a heated whisper, “I can make you feel so good that you will be screaming my name. And that boyfriend of yours? He will never know….”

“How?”

“How what?”

“How will you make me scream your name?”, she met his confused gaze with her unimpressed one, “Elaborate, please.”

“Uh… I mean…. I can do you really, really good and…”

“So that’s it? Simple sex?”

“I’d have no objection if you sucked me off first,”, his cocky smile was annoying and she could almost physically feel her woman parts locking, “If you are into that.”

If she was into that? Ooh, he had no idea what Mikasa is into. And it was high time to let him know.

“That’s a tempting offer, but I have a better one.”, she was the one whispering now, “What If I fucked you instead?”

He blinked a few times, eyes widening.

“What are you talking about?”

“I have a few toys that I like using, so why don’t we go and give them a spin.”, Mikasa was devouring him with her gaze now, “And that’s not all I offer. If you take me well enough, like the little bitch you are, I will let you worship me with your mouth. How is that?”

The man stumbled backward, shaking his head violently.

“N-No… I Don’t… I…”

Mikasa’s gaze was cool as she regarded him.

“What? Can’t talk? Then bark, dog.”

That was enough to give him the voice back.

“God, you’re crazy. I’m out of here.”

And he was indeed gone, passing Sasha who was just wheeling herself back with a tray full of food.

“Who was that?”, she asked, mouth full of pastry.

“No one.”, Mikasa reached over, grabbing a treat herself, “No one important.”

Fine, so even these parties like these could be fun.

Eren was still awake when Mikasa came home, waiting for her. It wouldn’t be fair to say that he had trouble sleeping alone, but he strongly preferred having her in the bed with him. What he didn’t know was that sleeping was not very high on Mikasa’s agenda, and when he stood up to say hi he was very quickly planted back on the couch with his goth girlfriend viciously attacking his mouth.

“How was the party?”, he managed to ask between the kisses, a feat worthy of respect.

“Fine.”, she responded, fingers tugging at his shirt.

Soon it was gone and she was free to splay her fingers on the warm naked skin.

“Are we doing something that we will both regret in the morning?”

“You bet.”, she giggled, and then her mouth was busy with kissing again.

And it went on and on until Eren was naked but Mikasa was still fully clothed, yet when he tried tugging the zipper of her dress down she denied him. She flipped them over, pushing Eren until he was standing in front of the couch with a raised eyebrow. All Mikasa offered was a single word.

“Kneel.”

He did so immediately, frowning a bit when he realized how quickly his body obeyed. Pleased by that, Mikasa put her legs on his shoulders, continuing in her instructions.

“Take off my panties, but nothing else. And use your mouth to do it.”

Eren did so, completely under her spell. Reaching over, Mikasa tangled her fingers in his hair.

“Do you want to worship me?”

His answer was immediate and automatic at this point.

“Yes please.”

A smirk on her black lips.

“Good boy.”

Lightly she pushed and he went more than willingly, head disappearing beneath the hem of her dress. And when his mouth truly went to work and Mikasa’s lips dropped open in a moan, her mind had a last coherent thought.

There was no way she would ever trade this guy for someone else.

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 2

Breakfast and Disney

Virgil decides to text Roman again. They have a fun argument over Disney movies.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and sex, vulgar language, and openly trans character

Chapter 1 | Masterlist | Chapter 3

Virgil woke up to a splitting headache. He immediately screwed his eyes shut, hands going to grip his hair. The lights were too bright, his throat was too dry, and he’s pretty sure there’s someone sleeping next to him. What the hell happened?

The memories hit him like a freight train. Arriving late to the party, meeting Mr. Sanders (“Call me Thomas,” he had said, flashing his perfect smile with his perfect teeth and perfect lips), and signing him up as a potential producer. Technically they had enough money and popularity to keep their band afloat without a producer, but to get such an influential man on their team was a dream come true. They got back to Janus’ house at around 2 AM, where they promptly got wasted. Virgil could still taste whatever expensive shit Janus had grabbed from the cellar. Speaking of Janus...

Virgil slowly opened his eyes, nearly hissing at the light shining through the giant windows. He looked over from his spot on the floor (how did he get there?) and found Janus and Remus cuddling together, a bottle of wine nestled between them. Remus was drooling, and Virgil noticed multiple hickeys along Janus’ throat. Virgil smiled as he got up. His two friends and essentially brothers had an odd relationship, but Virgil respected it. It was obvious that they were in love, but they didn’t want to put a label on it yet. They had offered for Virgil to join them, but he had declined. While Virgil did care for the other two deeply, he didn’t share the same spark that they did.

Virgil eventually found his way to the bathroom, quickly losing whatever remained in his stomach. He sat on the cold tile, waiting for the nausea to pass. He hadn’t drank that much in a long time. He should ask Janus if he can bring one of those bottles home. He’ll probably bitch for a few days (Janus liked to use alcohol as an excuse for Virgil to come over) but he’ll get over it.

Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz

Virgil grabbed his phone out of his jacket pocket (why was he still wearing his jacket?) and turned off his 10 AM alarm. He almost always woke up before his alarm went off, but his anxiety made him use the alarm anyways. He quickly checked for any new messages, and noticed his rather lackluster response to Roman helping him yesterday. He helped me get through an anxiety attack, and all I had to say was ‘thank you?’ The least I could do is apologize. Before his hungover brain could remind him of how stupid of an idea that was, he had already sent a text.

V- (10:02 AM) Hey, I just wanted to apologize for last night. You ended up being right, my friend was just running late. I ended up having a pretty good time, all things considered. Thanks for helping me through that attack. It meant a lot to me. I was still a little disoriented last night so I wasn’t wanting to type much. Again, thank you for helping a stranger. You're a good guy, Princey.

Before Virgil could second-guess himself, he locked his phone and got up. He quickly took some painkillers and went to find some form of a healthy breakfast. Virgil had always been self-conscious of how he looked, so he tended to eat light and work out when possible. He ended up finding enough eggs and veggies to make a few omelets. Virgil decided to make his last, knowing that Remus and Janus would be awake before the first one was finished. Sure enough, as soon as the first omelet was ready to be flipped, Remus was skipping into the kitchen, dragging a disgruntled Janus behind him. How that man had any energy this early in the morning with a hangover was a mystery to Virgil. He quickly served Remus his omelet, who proceeded to pour an obscene amount of salt onto it. Virgil cringed as he turned to make Janus’ omelet. He tuned out their conversation until he heard his name.

“Well I think Virgil should sleep with him-”

Virgil whipped around so fast that he almost burned himself on the stove. “WHAT?!?”

Remus scoffed, twirling his fork between his fingers. “While Tomathy did seem pretty convinced last night, a little bit of extra persuasion never hurt anybody. While I would normally volunteer, I don’t think that man has ever seen a vagina, much less wants to fuck one. And he seemed to be afraid of Janny over here, so you’re it, pumpkin.”

Virgil blushed, turning back to omelet making. Janus sighed, “Remus, darling, I don’t believe that Mr. Sanders requires any more... incentive. However, if Virgil decided to pursue that type of relationship with him... I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Virgil let out a squeak, his face even redder as he gave Janus his food. Remus laughed. “What’s the matter, Veevee? Cat got your dick? Even if you don’t sleep with Mr. Business, you should still get around more! Sex is good for the soul.”

Virgil flipped him off, resulting in another chuckle. He turned back to make his own omelet. Sure, Virgil hadn’t been in a relationship since, well, ever, but that wasn’t his fault! He just hadn’t found the right person yet, that’s all! Besides, Virgil didn’t do one night stands. The idea of sleeping with a stranger left a knot in his stomach.

By the time Virgil sat down with his omelet, Remus was already done. He started bouncing around ideas for new songs, with Virgil or Janus occasionally adding their own ideas.

Bzzz

Virgil glanced at his phone, seeing that he had a response from Roman. He went to unlock his phone.

“Who’s that?”

Virgil jumped, staring face-to-face with Janus. He could see where Janus’ question was coming from, since before now Virgil only ever texted Janus and Remus. “Just a random guy that I accidentally texted last night. I didn’t really apologize well last night, so I texted him again earlier today.” Janus and Remus both smirked. "I swear to god, whatever you two are thinking, it's wrong."

Janus tilted his head, looking like an innocent little angel (innocent my ass). "Whatever would we be thinking about, Virgil?" He turned to look at Remus. "Is this why Virgil found the idea of sleeping with Mr. Sanders so scandalous?" Virgil groaned, hoping that his meal would distract him from the cackling idiots in front of him.

By the time Virgil (finally) got home, wine tucked under one arm, he had almost forgotten about Roman's text. He quickly checked it, almost snorting at what he saw.

R-(10:35 AM) What can I say except you're welcome! Seriously, it was no problem. I'm happy that you had a good time at the party. It was a pleasure to help, storm cloud.

Virgil was halfway through typing a response before he stopped. Technically he could leave the text as it is and move on like nothing happened. On the other hand, Roman seemed like a fun guy to talk to. Surely he would tell Virgil if he wanted to stop talking to him, right? He ended up sending the text anyways, wanting to see if Roman would respond.

V- (11:45 AM) Really, you're gonna start your text with a Moana reference? You really are a Disney Prince, aren't ya Princey? And what's with the 'storm cloud' anyway?

Virgil expected a lot of things. Roman could block his number. He could poke fun at Virgil's anxiety attack from last night. He could take forever to respond, just to ask Virgil to never text him again. What Virgil didn't expect, however, was for an immediate, yet passionate, response.

R- (11:46 AM) DISNEY IS A BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECE THAT WILL ALWAYS HOLD A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART.

R- (11:46 AM) Sorry, I got a little emotional I REALLY like Disney. And the reason I called you 'storm cloud' is because you didn't give me another name to call you, storm cloud. And I will take the Disney prince jab as a complement.

Virgil laughed, already typing out a response. He probably shouldn't be giving out his name to a near stranger, but he didn't think it would matter much. Virgil Storm was a nobody, a reject from the foster system. Sure, he was secretly singer/songwriter Anxiety, but Roman didn't need to know that.

V- (11:47 AM) Sorry, the name's Virgil, he/him pronouns. And I didn't mean it as a jab, Disney's got a place in my heart too.

R- (11:48 AM) REALLY!?!? WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE DISNEY MOVIE? DISNEY CLASSICS OR PIXAR? FAVORITE DISNEY PRINCESS? THESE ARE ALL VERY IMPORTANT

V- (11:48 AM) Um, okay. Nightmare Before Christmas, Classics, and does Elsa count as a Disney Princess?

R- (11:49 AM) Nope. Elsa is QUEEN. WE WILL NOT SLANDER SUCH A GODDESS!

V- (11:49 AM) Geez, let it go, Princey

R- (11:49 AM) N(ice) one

V- (11:49 AM) Then I've gotta go with Cinderella. She decided to make one slightly bad decision last her entire life, as opposed to other princesses making a decision that immediately through their lives away. Though that is what makes the movie interesting.

R- (11:50 AM) What do you mean?

V- (11:50 AM) Disney is known for being pure and innocent, but it contains tons of sinister undertones.

R- (11:50 AM) Not all of them!

V- (11:50 AM) Let's play a game then, we each pick a movie and describe the message that we believe the audience was supposed to receive.

R- (11:51 AM) Alrighty then, I'll go first. Cinderella: Believe in your dreams and, one day, they will come true.

V- (11:51 AM) Sure, just literally wait around your entire life, subjecting yourself to the cruelty of your ungrateful ignorant family members, until some MAGICAL fairy comes along to save you. Don't take action yourself. Not to mention man can't memorize the face of a woman they've been dancing around with for hours, they have to rely on the shoe, ergo men are idiots.

R- (11:52 AM) He was a very busy prince! He had a lot on his mind.

V- (11:52 AM) Fine, what do you think about Snow White?

R- (11:52 AM) Okay. So this time the message is to NOT do what the Princess did: Don't accept random fruit from strangers.

V- (11:53 AM) The bigger message is to just run away from your problems and become a housekeeper for 7 men. Not to mention a Prince comes out of nowhere and plants a kiss on a seemingly sleeping girl? I guess consent isn't really that important?

R- (11:54 AM) He thought she was DEAD! It was a farewell kiss!

R- (11:54 AM) Okay, how about Peter Pan. Don't let your childhood spirit ever die.

V- (11:55 AM) Also it's totally fine to believe a random stranger when they tell you to jump out a window after they've broken into your house. But I guess that's how your whole being would die.

R- (11:55 AM) COME ON! Can you REALLY look down so harshly on these movies?!?

V- (11:55 AM) I still like them! There's just some darker messages that we don't first see.

R- (11:56 AM) Bambi

V- (11:56 AM) Man is dangerous

R- (11:56 AM) Pocahontas

V- (11:56 AM) White man is dangerous

R- (11:56 AM) SLEEPING BEAUTY

V- (11:56 AM) Well now we’re back to the lack of consent with sleeping women

R- (11:56 AM) IT WAS TO LIFT A CURSE!!

V- (11:57 AM) Am I wrong?

R- (11:58 AM) …No, I suppose not. I guess there are darker aspects that I did not take into account. HOWEVER, that doesn’t mean that those movies are intending on teaching such… immoral lessons.

V- (11:58 AM) And I never said that they were. That’s just my interpretation of them. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.

When 5 minutes passed with no response, Virgil deemed it the end of that conversation. He went to go take a shower (he still smelt like alcohol and vomit) and hopefully get some ideas for his next song. Maybe something about interpretations?

By the time Virgil was out of the shower and fully dressed, there was a new message on his phone. He went to check it and was surprised by what he saw.

R- (12:12 PM) Virgil, in the span of just 30 minutes, you have given me one of the most invigorating debates I have ever gone through. I would really like to have another one in the future. Would you like to join a group chat with me and my friends, Patton and Logan? I have a feeling that you would get along quite nicely. You are not obligated under any means, but I can see that we have the potential to be great friends. What d’ya say, storm cloud?

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@bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess

[hitsuackerman]

Serenade (Hawks x Reader)

Prompt: It’s almost 3am and Hawks has a special surprise for his lovely girlfriend.

Warnings: Fluff

Masterlist for all my fics :) here

It was late in the night and there you were. Suffering the consequences of your procrastination.

Typing furiously in your laptop, you wracked your brain for every single word you could think useful for your report. Your boss had given you this assignment one week ago and because of a particular someone, you had kept brushing the work aside.

Not that you minded though. He was much more entertaining compared to a report about the current status of the company’s stocks.

Glancing at the time, you stopped typing and groaned. It was now 2:37am. Work tomorrow would start at 9am so this would mean a double shot of espresso once more. Not the best for your palpitating heart.

Stretching your hands, you gathered your hair and put it on a messy bun. Adjusting your blue-light filter glasses, you continued working. Time to time, you would read and skim through articles and files to input onto the report. You could feel yourself slowly going back to your rhythm.

Hearing your phone buzz, you blindly reached for it while your eyes remained glued to a particular folder. Your mind had registered that it was a call and without looking you answered it.

“This is (Y/N). How may I help you?” It had become a habit of yours to answer the phone as businesslike as you could when you chose not to see who the caller was.

“You workin overdrive, (Y/N)?” His voice broke your concentration. The familiar sound of wind rushing through the speakers and that cocky tone. Hearing you sigh, he adjusted his body and flew even faster toward his destination.

“Not now, Hawks.” By now, you were massaging your temple. In hopes it would rid of your headache. Still, the corners of your mouth turned upwards. Your heart fluttered knowing he knew full well you would be working and decided to check up on you.

“It’s always the time.” He replied back. “Get some sleep, (Y/N). Espresso won’t do you good.”

“Says the person who loves sweets.”

“And you’re something sweet.” If he were beside you, a finger gun would have been present. “I’m almost done with my patrol, you know.”

“And so what if you're almost done with your patrol?” He was winning you over. He could definitely feel you smiling over the phone.

“Not implying anything.” He took something out of his pocket and landed smoothly. Removing his visors and headphones. “Besides, I’m too far from you right now.”

Standing outside your window, he saw just how much of a mess you made on your bed. Files and folders were opened and scattered. Looking over at your bedside table, 2 mugs were resting. He was sure one had coffee and the other had tea. The look on your face only told him you were expecting him to drop by.

“Oh…” Your fingertips were now lazily brushing the keyboard. A small pout forming on your mouth when you realized that he wouldn’t be dropping by. “Then I guess I follow your advice. I am tired tho.”

It felt like an awkward answer but you didn’t know how to continue the topic. Balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder, you began to organize the files and stacked them in a pile.

“You sad, baby?” He was now leaning on your window. His eyes wandered to your oversized shirt. It was the one he gave you when you two first made love.  “I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s okay~ I understand.” You did. He was a pro and that came with the package. Hawks had always encouraged you to join his agency knowing your quirk was pretty powerful. Respecting that you wanted a lowkey life. “I just miss you, though.”

“I miss you too, love nugget.” He prepared his little surprise. “Well, I gotta do a final sweep. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Yes sir.” You replied as you placed your laptop on your desk. At least everything was now out of the way and you could finally sleep.

“I love you, my precious nugget.” Seeing you blush made him a little too excited.

“I love you too, oversized chicken man.” 

With that he ended the call. His eyes follow you. Just when you were wrapped up in your blanket he positioned his little instrument in his mouth. Inhaling he began to serenade you.

“BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ BZZZZZ BZZZZ~!” Hawks began to use his plastic kazoo.

You sat up from your comfortable bed. Eyes wide with the sudden noise. It seemed to be coming from your window. The sound did seem to have a melody into it, it just wasn’t clear. Standing up, you listened to the annoying kazoo being played.

Squinting your eyes, you tried to identify what song it was. You facepalmed at the realization that the song being badly played was none other than True by Spandau Ballet. Heading towards your window, you grinned like a small child. That chicken man always loved surprising you. When you opened your window, a bunch of his small feathers came raining down on you. 

“Makeshift rose petals, I presume?”

Now that your windows were open, the kazoo sound was even louder than before.

“BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ BZZZZZ BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ” Hawks proceeded to play. This time, he walked towards your window. Never in your life did you think a person playing a kazoo would look that sexy.

“This is new, even coming from you.” You commented while laughing. Your shoulders shaking at the scenery of your boyfriend serenading you at 3am.

Taking the instrument out of his mouth, he placed it back into his pocket. A smirk replacing it.

“Surprise~” Floating towards you, he held both your cheeks and kissed your lips deeply. Both of you smiling as your lips touch. “Did that impress you?”

Moving a bit, he pulled his wings together and entered your room. Stretching them out once more when he was finally inside. He opened his legs and you sat in between them. Hugging his waist as his wings enveloped your body.

“It woke me up, I’ll give you that.” You nuzzled your head on his stomach. His gloved hands running through your hair. Bending a little, he kissed the crown of your head.

“You don’t mind me crashing your place?” He lifted your chin with his index and thumb. His golden eyes glowed with the dim light of your room.

“You’re most welcome to crash.” You happily replied. Letting go of his waist, you stood up and went towards your closet and took some clothes for him to wear as he made his way towards the washroom to bathe. Having left the door open, you placed the clothes on the counter and went back to your bed.

By the time he was finished, you welcomed him with open arms as he crawled to the open space left for him. Positioning his wings in a comfortable manner, he hugged you tightly and used his wing as a blanket. Feeling you nuzzle on his neck made him feel relaxed after the rather long patrol.

“Shall we make some fried chicken tomorrow?” He asked. His voice soft and nothing more than a whisper.

“You know I have work tomorrow, Keigo.” You tightened your hold on him. Knowing it might be  awhile before you could feel his body again.

“Well… I managed to ask your boss a favor and because he’s a fan, he extended your deadline.” Your head jerked up and you stared into his eyes. They were tired but he was fighting the urge to sleep.

“Are you serious?”

“You’re all mine tomorrow, baby~” He leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I’ll help, don't worry.”

Resting your head back on his chest, you let out a sigh of relief. This was indeed one of the advantages of having a pro hero as a boyfriend. A huge weight had definitely been taken off your shoulders.

“You’re my hero.”

“I know.” He teased back followed by a soft snore.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

Protective Instincts

Santiago Pope Garcia x F!OC

Summary: After everything he’s done, Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia can’t fathom the idea of bringing a child into the world. But sometimes, life doesn’t work out exactly as you’ve planned. *Based off of some wonderful headcanons written by @darksideofclarke*

Warnings: Pregnancy fic (so if you’re not into that, please don’t read), swearing, reference to smut (but it’s only like one line), references to blood, death (of adults and children), and PTSD

A/N: Hi everyone! So this is my first fanfic post on Tumblr (I have an active account on ff.net, and if anyone is interested in reading that, I can send you my account name). I really enjoyed writing for Pope, it was really nice to spread my wings outside of the Supernatural fandom, so please let me know if you enjoyed this, because I’ve got so many ideas for how to turn it into a series. Hope you enjoy! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any future chapters that come out.

15 steps to the left.

Stop.

Turn.

15 steps to the left.

Stop.

Turn.

Repeat until the worries of the mind and the heaviness of the heart disappears.

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Pope’s voice calls out, causing Rebecca’s steady steps to stumble.

“How can I face him? How can I tell him?” her mind anguished.

She found herself stopped in front of their large bay window, staring out into the street as her wonderful, loving boyfriend walked up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, not noticing how she flinched as he hands come to rest on top of her still soft stomach and planted a gentle kiss on her neck.

“How was your day?” he questioned, seemingly content with the picture of domestic bliss that they undoubtedly made, as he nuzzled his nose in between her shoulder blades.

“It was fine,” she murmured quietly, folding her arms around her chest.

Pope shifted, his nose gently brushing her ear as he twisted to look at her profile.

“What happened?”

What had happened? How could she answer that when every molecule in her body was seemingly at war with each other? When her heart was rejoicing but the tiniest voice in the back of her mind was throwing up red flags because they had never talked about this before and she had no clue how he was going to react? When every instinct inside of her was screaming ‘protect’ and every emotion was yelling ‘share’?

“I…I think we should sit.”

Pope felt his heart stutter but nodded as he gently led her to the couch. Was this the moment he had been dreading? Was this when karma kicked in and took away the best thing that had ever happened to him?

“Bex, please…” he kept his hand on her thigh as they settled next to each other on the leather couch. “Are you okay?” Hesitantly, she nodded, and Pope sighed with relief. “What’s going on, baby?”

She shifted slightly, pulling away from his hand and playing with her fingers in her lap. “Umm…you know how I haven’t been feeling great the past week or so?”

He nodded, leaning forward. “Yeah, did you go to the doctor today like I asked?”

He had had to beg her to go. She had insisted that it was just the flu, probably coupled with her oncoming period in the next couple of days. She usually felt like shit when that time of the month rolled around, but the constant vomiting had been new, so he had pleaded with her daily for the last four days to go to the doctor. In hindsight, she had been resistant because she had a sneaking suspicion, but, again, her instincts had been at war with each other.

“Yeah, I went…” It wasn’t until her breathing hitched and Santiago lifted his hand to brush away a tear that she even realized she was crying.

“Baby…” Rebecca looked up and met Santi’s dark eyes. She could read the fear reflected in them and it only made her feel worse. Her sweet, burdened man had fought a war, lost friends, and here she was, scaring him in the comfort of his own home.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, wanting to see that worry washed away from his expression.

Instead, she saw the walls slam up in his eyes.

*******************************************************************************************

Pope had the unfortunate experience of being too close to an explosive as it detonated. He’d felt the shrapnel dig itself into his body, felt the heat burn his skin, but, for Pope, the worst part was the ringing in his ears. When the dull sound of tinnitus overtook everything. He’d had men, friends, best friends, screaming in his face but had been unable to hear them. The roar of the fire and the scream of bullets flying sounded like he was hearing them from deep underwater, Catfish could be hollering in his ear that they had to move, but he couldn’t make out the words.

“I’m pregnant…” Rebecca blurted, hesitantly glancing back and forth between his face and her lap.

Now, he was sure that she kept talking. Hell, he could see her lips moving. But the words…they weren’t reaching him. Everything was white noise, he was moving through water, the scar on the back of his neck started to burn.

One thing the military had taught Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was how to listen to his instincts. He was a damn good leader, he had a loyal crew of men who depended on him and had his back, and that was partially because his instincts were usually pretty spot on. If that feeling in his gut told him to stop, they stopped. If it told him to run, he was dragging his team alongside him at a dead sprint. If it told him to shoot, he shot.

Now, his fight or flight was telling him one thing.

Pope rose from the couch, his eyes just skating past Rebecca’s panicked expression, his brain not really absorbing any new information, like how her lips were moving in a repetitive pattern.

“Santi…Pope…Santiago…Please…Santi…Pope…Santiago…Please…”

His ears were ringing, but his eyes knew her lips well enough to understand, even if that information wasn’t making it to his brain.

Wordlessly, emotionlessly, almost lifelessly, Pope paced to the front door, shrugged on his leather jacket, donned his sunglasses, pulled his keys out of his pocket.

Open the door. One step over the doorframe.

Turn.

Close the door. Lock it.

Five stairs. Fifteen paces.

Unlock car. Get in. Key in ignition. Seatbelt on.

Start car. Shift gears. Peddle on the right.

Drive.

Santiago had no destination in mind, no plan. For once, the man with a plan had no plan.

“I’m pregnant…”

He felt the whizz of a bullet flying by his cheek.

“I’m pregnant…”

The blood of a civilian spurted through his fingers as he tried to put pressure on the wound.

“I’m pregnant…”

The bodies of kids lined up outside of a village that had just been bombed, that they hadn’t gotten there in time to save.

“I’m pregnant…”

“I’m pregnant…”

“I’m pregnant…”

Every echo of Bex’s voice brought a new memory.

Car bombs exploding in Afghanistan.

The numerous deaths of innocent civilians in Iraq.

The countless executions of sicarios in Colombia by the police force.

Tom and the complete fuck up that he had led his friends into.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

Pope looked down for a split second and saw Rebecca’s photo lighting up his screen.

It was a photo they had taken on the Fourth of July. He had taken her out to Will’s cabin out in the middle of the woods, deep enough that none of the seasoned veterans would be able to hear the fireworks exploding overhead. She had spider-monkeyed her way around him as he sat on a log next to the campfire, arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs around his waist, and chest pressed tightly up against his back, and when Benny had seen the way he had smiled at her over his shoulder, he had snapped the photo with his phone.

For a split second, Pope was torn. Did he cave to the guilt that was starting to gnaw at his gut and answer the phone? Did he shut his phone off so he wouldn’t have to hear the rattling sound in his cupholder? In the end, he did neither.

His instincts were driving him to continue down the road, and his heart wouldn’t let him shut off his phone, so he ignored it. He knew she would begin to panic if his phone sent her straight to voicemail but leaving it on allowed her the peace of mind to know that he would answer…eventually. When he was ready.

Pope didn’t pay any attention to his dashboard clock, nor did he pay any mind to the sun that was slowly crawling its way across the sky. He knew hours had passed, he knew that Bex was calling him every ten minutes or so, and he knew that the emptiness of the road and the repetitive hum of the tires below him was soothing his mind.

When his truck dinged, alerting him to the news that his truck had about ten miles left before it ran out of gas, he pulled over, stopped, and refilled the tank with what was left in his gas can before continuing.

He paid attention to the traffic and to the periodic buzzing of his phone, that was it.

Hours passed, his phone buzzing every ten minutes like clockwork until the sun hung low in the sky. Until his phone stopped buzzing.

At the first ten minute mark when his phone didn’t buzz and his and Bex’s smiling faces didn’t appear on his screen, approximately six hours into his drive and approximately around the time when Pope realized he had been driving in circles for at least the last four, he glanced down to make sure that his phone hadn’t died.

Ten minutes after that, he pulled onto a farm road, slowing to a stop on the side of the dirt road. His heart was racing as though he had been running for the past six hours, and he couldn’t understand why.

13 minutes after that, his phone came to life again, a pixelated likeness of Catfish’s face appearing in the dimming light of the sunset. Bex was in that photo too, Frankie pressing a kiss to her cheek while winking at Pope behind the camera.

Pope sighed and cleared his throat, hoping to convey a lightheartedness when he greeted, “Hey Fish, what’s goin’ on?”

Pope heard a screen door slam shut as Frankie growled, “Estúpido hijo de puta.”

Pope pulled the phone away from his ear, making sure it was actually Catfish calling and not some crank call. “Frankie?”

“Santi, do you want to tell me why I’m here with your hysterical girlfriend and you’re not?”

Pope felt his heart sink in his chest. “Fish, I—”

“Bex nearly gave me a goddamn heart attack when she called,” Frankie talked over him. “Sobbing so hard she couldn’t get the words out. I gunned it over to your place thinking you had been kidnapped or something, man. Had an SOS text ready to send to Benny and Will, only to find out that you had just left and you weren’t answering her calls. What the fuck, Pope?”

Pope stepped out of his truck and leaned back against the door, staring out at the reds and purples and golds of the sunset.

“…she’s pregnant, man.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And?” Pope wrenched himself away from the truck and began pacing up and down the abandoned stretch of road. “And I don’t know how the fuck to be a father! I don’t know how to raise a kid to be a benefit to society and not a colossal fuck up! After all the shit I’ve done, all the blood on my hands?” Pope took a shaky, shuddery breath, pressing the phone up to his forehead as he wished he could keep it together. He shouldn’t be saying anything. He should bury all the shit so deep down it never sees the light of day. He should, but it was also Frankie Morales he was talking to. His ride or die since day one. The guy who, no matter what was happening, always gave it to him straight. The brain behind Pope’s brawn.

“What gives me the right, Frankie?” Pope mumbled as he brought the phone back to his ear. “I’ve killed people…I’ve gotten people killed…I’ve let people die…That kid is gonna come into the world all innocent, take one look at me, and see a killer. H—How am I supposed to raise a kid when I can barely keep my own shit together half the time?”

The line was silent for a long time, and Pope helplessly dashed at the water that had pooled in his eyes.

“No sé cómo hacer esto, hermano,” he whispered.

Finally, he heard the telltale rasp of Frankie running his hand over his face. “Chill the fuck out, bro,” Frankie told him in a voice that somehow managed to be both soothing and commanding. “Holding that kid will be the best thing you ever do in your life. The only thing that makes all of the shit worth it.”

“But—”

“No buts, Pope. You wanna know how you’re gonna raise that kid? You’re not,” he said simply. “You and Bex are gonna raise that kid together. You’re gonna make mistakes, and screw up, and so will she, but as long as you’re there, and you love that kid hard, and you actually give a shit, then you’re gonna be leaps and bounds above half the dickheads out there that call themselves dads.” Pope squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks. He didn’t know if Frankie knew that his partner and friend was tearing up in the middle of nowhere, but he also knew that Frankie (and Bex) were probably the only two people on the planet who wouldn’t give him shit for it.

He just couldn’t help it. Six hours ago, his world had exploded, and now Frankie was helping him put it together piece by painful piece. Worst of all was how badly Pope wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that the kid would make all the bullshit he had gone through worth it, but he didn’t dare imagine it. It was too good to be true. He was too broken, too beaten down to make a good father.

“Listen man,” Frankie grunted, and Pope’s keen ears picked up a shuffle in the background that told him Frankie had sat down somewhere. “I’ve got the same blood and shit on my hands that you do. Worse, even, if you consider that mess I got myself into without you. Does that make me a bad dad?”

Pope was already shaking his head. After the mess in Colombia, after Yovanna had decided that he wasn’t worth her time, Pope had come home and settled a few blocks over from where Frankie and his fiancée at the time (now his wife), Charlotte, had settled down. Pope had seen Frankie with his son, Mateo, more times than he could count.

“Frankie—”

“Exactly. And considering where my head was at when Charlie told me she had a bun in the oven, I shoulda been. I could’ve messed that kid up bad…I thought I would, but I didn’t.” Frankie sighed again, and Pope could visualize him scratching at his facial hair. “Santi, bringing that kid into the world is the only thing that’ll make up for all of the shit. Believe me.”

Because it was Frankie, his right-hand man, his best friend, Pope allowed himself to hope. He allowed himself to close his eyes and imagine it. A little baby nestled in his arms, curling up against his chest like he hadn’t killed countless people. Dark eyes looking up at him the way their mother looked at him, with love and kindness, like he didn’t have blood on his hands. A chance to do some good in the world, to bring some light into his life. A chance to raise a kid who could be better than he ever was. Who wouldn’t tear the world down in a storm of bullets and bombs, but maybe, just maybe, build it back up with smiles and love.

Pope choked back a sob. “Frankie, I fucked up.”

“Nah, hermano,” Frankie chuckled. “Your girl loves you. The only way you can fuck up now is if you don’t come home. Then, I’m morally obligated to hunt you down and castrate you.”

Pope chuckled a watery laugh as he climbed back into the cab of his truck. “I’m on my way now.”

“Good, my ass is getting cold from sitting on your front steps,” Frankie laughed.

Pope laughed again, a real laugh this time. “Go home, cabrón.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who has some major ass kissing to do, jackass.”

Pope waited as he could hear Frankie getting into his car. “Seriously, man. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, bro,” Pope heard Frankie’s car start in the background. “Just fix it.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and I call godfather!”

Pope laughed as he hung up and sped down the road. If he kept on this road and obeyed the speed limit, he could make it home in half an hour. He was determined to make it home in twenty.

*******************************************************************************************

It may have been the worst parking job Pope had ever done, with half the car parked on the grass, half on the asphalt, the back end blocking most of the sidewalk, and a few inches between his rear, driver’s side tire and the back end of Rebecca’s car, but he didn’t care. The jovial spirit that had overtaken him at the tail-end of his chat with Frankie had vanished as he got closer and closer to home. He needed to see his girl. He needed to make things right.

He waved as the lights on Frankie’s minivan flashed twice before pulling away from the curb across the street, grateful that his friend had stayed until he had gotten home, and jogged up to the front door, quietly unlocking it and stepping into the silent house.

The lights in the living room were off. As Pope stumbled over the jumble of shoes at the front door, he caught sight of the pile of tissues sitting on the coffee table and felt his heart sink and those tears he had been choking back fight their way up his throat again.

A dull light shone from behind the kitchen door, and Pope tentatively approached it, pressing gently at the swinging door to take a peek inside.

When he caught sight of her, his heart shattered inside his chest.

He’d always thought Rebecca was beautiful, from the second he had caught sight of her at the physiotherapy clinic. Drenched in sweat and red-faced, that had been his first impression of her, but her smile and the playful glint in her eyes had bewitched him in an instant.

He’d seen her dressed to the nines, looking like she’d stepped out of one of those fashion magazines that she kept in her bedside table. He’d seen her in sweats after a day of cleaning house. He’d seen her naked as the day she was born, whimpering and moaning as he painted her chest with his cum. She’d always been beautiful. Stunning, gorgeous.

Even now, Pope had to acknowledge the melancholic beauty that surrounded her. The remnants of tears that clung to her eyelashes, the blotchy red patches that stained her skin, the weariness that tugged her whole body down until she was slumped in her seat at the kitchen table, feet propped up in his seat, her phone just barely visible from where he stood, propped up against her bent legs, one elbow laid across her knees while the other arm was bearing the weight of her head, hand cushioned in the sleeve of her oversized white sweater.

“Baby…” he murmured, pushing his way into the kitchen and standing in the low light cast by the lamp in the center of the table.

It took her a moment, but she finally looked up, tears welling back up in her red-rimmed eyes as she gasped out a sob at the very sight of him.

Whatever had been holding Pope up until that point – call it stubbornness, call it pride, call it resolution – dissolved at that sob.

One step.

Two steps.

His knees hit the hardwood floor as he choked out a sob, tears finally spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he cried as he buried his face into Rebecca’s thighs. “I’m so, so sorry…”

He didn’t know how long he knelt there, tears turning her pale blue jeans dark, pain radiating from his knees, up to his neck and throughout his limbs, voice growing hoarse as he repeated the words again and again and again.

Finally, finally, Pope felt that touch of grace as she slowly, gingerly raised her hand and began to carefully card it through his thick salt-and-pepper curls. Her touch of kindness only served to make him cry harder as he raised his head and gazed upon her tear-stained face.

“I’m so sorry, mi alma,” he rasped, shuffling forward until his forehead was pressed into her lower belly, where the life they had created together was just beginning to grow. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into the small band of skin that was revealed where her sweater had ridden up.

After what felt like hours, Pope stirred, slowly peeling himself off the floor to stand in front of her. With a hopeful look in his eyes, he extended his hand to her and prayed to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that she would take it.

*******************************************************************************************

Rebecca eyed his extended hand suspiciously. Part of her wanted to slap it away, scream at him for the anguish he had put her through the past few hours, and make him sleep on the couch until the baby was born. But the other part of her, the part that could see the tremor in his arms and legs as he stood there and the pleading look in his eyes and the deep lines that were etched in his forehead, that part of her coaxed her into gently unfolding from her curled up position and taking his hand.

Gently, Santiago helped her to her feet and led her out of the kitchen, down the hall and into their bedroom. She stood there in the doorway as he moved around the room, dropping his black t-shirt and dark jeans into the hamper, placing his watch on his nightstand, and plugging his phone into the charger, until he stopped by her side of the bed, tugging the covers down and looking at her with that same pleading gaze.

Slowly, hesitantly, she followed his lead, stripping down to her bra and panties and sliding under the covers that he was holding up for her. In a flash, Santiago slid into his side of the bed and pulled her tightly to him, her back to his chest with one of his hands gently cradling her still flat belly.

As he pressed a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder, she couldn’t help the shuddery, teary gasp of that one word that had been at the forefront of her mind since he had shut the door in her face and locked it behind him: “Why?”

Rebecca heard him sigh, a long, weary breath out that spoke of exhaustion and trauma.

“When you told me…everything just kind of shut down. All I could think of was to protect.”

“Protect who?”

She felt him shrug. “Protect myself. Protect you from me and all my bullshit. Protect the baby from the fuck up they have as a father.”

“Santi…” she whispered mournfully. “You know I don’t—”

“I know,” he interjected before clearing his throat. “It’s just…I’ve done some really bad things in my life, Bex. I’m not a good person,” he continued in a whisper. “You know some of the stuff that I’ve done, but most of it is so classified I doubt I’ll ever be allowed to talk about it. And I don’t want to. I don’t want you to ever hear about it. So, when you told me we were having a baby, my mind just kind of shut down. All I could think of was how many people I’ve killed; how much blood is on my hands.”

He trailed off as a dark silence loomed over the room.

“You scared me…” she finally whispered.

He chuckled darkly as he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I scared myself,” he admitted. “I just…I couldn’t imagine how any good could come out of this. I…” he paused, and Rebecca rolled over to face him, watching his Adam’s apple work in his throat. “I don’t deserve to be a dad, Bex.”

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes again at his admittance. She wished he could see what she saw. He was good with kids. So good with them. Watching him with Frankie’s son Mateo was one of the most adorable sights she had ever seen. He would be such a good father. But…she couldn’t force it on him. She knew he had baggage, knew it when she met him, but things had been so good between them that she had hoped they would be okay.

“I…uh, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do, Santi,” she murmured, desperately trying to keep the tears out of her voice. “You can be as involved or—”

“Oh baby, no. No, no, shh…” he pulled her into his chest, banding his arms tightly around her back until her head was nestled into his shoulder and his face was buried in her hair. “I’m gonna be better, okay? I swear to god, I’m gonna be better for you and this kid. I called Will on the drive home, and he’s gonna help me find a group to talk to about all this. I can’t promise it won’t happen again but I’m gonna fight as hard as I can to be there for you one hundred percent.” He peeled his face away from her neck and angled himself to look directly into her eyes, their noses almost touching. “I’ll read all the parenting books and go to any and all classes you sign us up for. I’m gonna be there for every appointment. I’ll learn how to give massages if you need me to rub your feet or your back, and I’ll go out for any cravings you might have, even if I have to drive all the way across town at 3 o’clock in the morning.” Tears began pooling in her eyes again, except this time there was a small smile on her face. “When the baby comes, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. You can break my hand if you need to during labor. If you want it to just be us, it’ll just be us. If you want a whole damn camera crew there to document the whole thing, I’ll make it happen.” He pulled her closer and cupped her face in his hands. “I’m gonna get a good job, baby. No more side jobs, no more private sector. I’ll take whatever 9 to 5 I can find to help take care of us. Hell, I’ll take two jobs if you want to be a stay at home mom. Or, if you want, I’ll stay at home with the kid. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”

Finally, Rebecca laughed as happy tears streamed down her face. “You’re rambling, babe.”

Pope laughed too, a happy, relieved sound as he pressed his lips to hers for the first time that evening. “I know, I know,” he whispered, wiping her tears away with his fingertips. “I just need you to know that I’m all in. Whatever you want, whatever you need. Whatever this kid needs. I’m here. I’m gonna be a dick sometimes, and I’m gonna make mistakes, and I’m gonna be so far out of my league between you and this kid, but I’m gonna be here. I swear to god.”

Rebecca giggled, pulling her hand from his chest to play with the grey baby curls at the back of his neck. “That’s all we need,” she whispered as she pulled him closer to plant a sweet, loving kiss on his lips. She pulled back and ran a fond hand over his cheek. “Just promise me, next time this happens, you let me know. Just a word or a gesture or something?”

Pope nodded, ashamed of his actions. He was always the first to go in, guns blazing, no thought to his own safety if it meant protecting his team. But the second he found out about the baby, he had left his most important teammate behind to fend for herself.

“I promise, baby. And I’m so sorry…” he nuzzled into her cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to her dimple.

She smiled at him as she rolled over and rested her head on his bicep. “We’re gonna be okay, babe,” she yawned, her eyes drifting closed after the emotional day she had had.

Pope nestled in behind her, not leaving an inch of space between them. Lying there, happy with the woman he loved in his arms, Pope took a deep breath and allowed himself to drift off, her words echoing in his mind. They would be okay. He’d make sure of it.  

*******************************************************************************************

Tags List: @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @eternallyvenus, @rae-rae-patcha

[twistedcharismaaa]

Lost & Found Pt 5

Summary: You’re living a suffocating life and you finally find breath in Masego.

Author’s Note: Hi guysssss! I’m back with another chapter! I hope that you guys enjoy! I struggled writing this story for whatever odd reason. Please leave a comment for ya girl! Love you guys so muchhhhh!!!

For the last couple of weeks, you dined with your complex mind and slept with your dreams. You decided that it was time to be alone and learn to enjoy your own company. You wanted to give yourself an opportunity to learn yourself again - to properly love yourself and be kinder to your gentle soul. You spent the majority of your days blasting music in your apartment and busying yourself with activities that brought you peace. Casually making your way into the living room, you relaxed your spine on the soft, plush pillows on the couch letting yourself sink deeper in its cushion. You sat there silently letting your mind wander aimlessly about Micah. You grabbed your lighter that was sitting next to you and lit your blunt subtly inhaling its essence. Now, lavender and Sativa filled the vacant air. You inhaled another puff letting the substance completely penetrate your lungs. You basked in the intoxicating combination and closed your eyes briefly. Now opening your heavy eyelids, you exhaled watching the smoke dance as it parted your lips. 

You connected your phone to your Bluetooth speaker and found yourself standing swaying your full hips to the beat of the music playing in the background of the apartment. You traveled into your bedroom still dancing carelessly. You looked in the mirror and giggled at your reddening glossy eyes. You pulled your unruly curls into a messy puff and then wrapped your hair in a silk scarf. You plopped on your bed vertically letting your head rest on the fluffy pillows. Again, you thought about Micah. You wondered if he ever received the note that you left him before you quit. Minutes later, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

---------

(2 weeks ago)

“Charisma, are you sure you want to do this?” she asked while eyeing you in disbelief. She squinted her eyes as her nostrils flared.

“Terri, I’m more than sure. Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me here. But it’s my time to move on.” you said calmly as you handed her your employee keys.

Disappointment washed over her face as she took the keys from you reluctantly. She sighed loudly before nodding in acceptance.

“You were one of my best. I hate to see you go but I wish you the best of luck. Just give me one second while I go and grab your check.” she responded.

It was the end of another tiring workday. Dust, clean, shine, and repeat. You literally felt yourself wasting away each and every time you would punch-in. You knew there was more to life than this, all you had to do was find it. Or better yet, let it find you? The sun still shined brightly outside. You looked past the front desk and noticed Micah enjoying the pool area. Micah sat by the poolside letting his ankles and feet submerge into the water. He rolled up each pant leg one by one and kicked his feet freely in the water causing small ripples to form. He leaned back and smiled at the sun. The sun’s light complimented his caramel pigment. His flawless, radiant almond hue was astounding. It racked your brain that someone could be so beautiful without even trying. You watched him close his eyes, inhale the fresh air, and bask blissfully in the sun by himself. 

Instinctively, you dug in your miniature light-brown bookbag and pulled out your old sky blue digital camera. You focused the lens to your liking and snapped a photo of Micah. You stuffed the camera back in your bookbag when you saw Terri approaching you with your final check. Terri placed the check in your hand and smiled solemnly.

“Again, thank you for everything,” you said sweetly before leaving the hotel.

------

(Present)

Micah unlocked the door to his hotel room and let the door slam behind him loudly. He slid off his shoes and paraded proudly in his all-black socks. He opened the doors to the balcony and inhaled the fresh air. South Africa was absolutely gorgeous and he wished that he had someone to share this beauty with. In a perfect, ideal world it would be you. Again, you stumbled across his mind. It was easy for him to think of you any time he saw something breath-taking. To him, you were breath-taking, effortlessly stunning. He rested his hands on the railing of the balcony and sighed deeply. He never met someone that pulled at his soul the way that you did. He watched the sun set before him gradually. He witnessed the sky’s hue transform from a pinkish-orange and settle into a black night gracefully. He was confident that the note he wrote for you would earn him lunch with you. He just wanted a mere piece of your time. The day that the front desk receptionist informed him about your abrupt absence he literally felt his heart sink. Micah knew that you didn’t owe him anything but yet he longed for a goodbye. There were times where he thought about you in the worst ways. Completely letting his mind spiral into a tunnel of negative thoughts. He wondered if he scared you away or if he came on too strong. Did he make you quit? Did he make you uncomfortable? None of it matters anyway or at least that’s what he tells himself. No matter what he did, he could never make a woman stay. He was either too goofy, too talented, too skinny, too busy, too emotional, too corny, too deep, or too moody. Every woman he had ever been attracted to or ever connected with emotionally found a problem with him. Now he questions if he was even meant to be loved anymore. 

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walked back inside. He closed the balcony doors and sat on his bed for a moment before fully laying down. He stared at the ceiling letting his thoughts consume him. He felt something tickle his fingertips in one of his pockets. He dug deeper in his pocket before pulling out the foreign object. He discovered that it was a note. It was neatly folded in the shape of a square. He unfolded the note and began to read.

“A note for a note? I hope that didn’t sound as corny as it felt writing it. As you can see, I really don’t know how to start these kinds of things. I’m just gonna think less and say what I feel. I feel like you see me clearer than I see myself and I appreciate that. I appreciate you. I feel like I see you too. You make me smile, you make me laugh, and you make blush. You make me feel so much, I would love to have lunch with someone who makes me feel so alive.”

- Charisma 

Instantly, Micah sat up with widened eyes. His heart thudded heavily in his chest from the rapid feeling of excitement. He noticed at the bottom of your handwritten letter that you left your phone number. Without thinking, he dialed your number.

---------

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

You heard your phone vibrate on your nightstand. Sleepily, you reached for your phone placed it on your ear. Your eyes were still closed and your body was wrapped in your favorite blanket comfortably. 

“Hello?” you quizzed. Your voice was raspy, heavy - still full of sleep.

“H-Hi it’s um-”

“Micah?” you quizzed in a high pitched tone. You were in disbelief, you opened your eyes and sat up slowly. 

“I was thinking about you and then I found this letter. But I found it two weeks too late it looks like,” he said laughing somewhat awkwardly.

“You’re not too late,” you reassured. “I was thinking about you too actually,” you admitted shyly.

“I’m not even thinking right now. I’m in South Africa right now, what’s the time over there?” he quizzed while placing his hand over his forehead.

“South Africa?” you repeated.

“Yeah,” he said while looking down. “As crazy as it sounds, I was going to ask you to come with me,” he admitted.

You closed your eyes and exhaled silently before answering.

“So ask me now,” you said boldly with a stomach full of butterflies.

Suddenly, Micah jumped up from his seat on the bed and walked outside back to the balcony. He took a picture of the twinkling night sky and sent it to you via iMessage.

“Charisma, will you come to South Africa so we can admire the night sky together?” he asked sweetly, sincerely.

You giggled over the phone as you felt your heart melt into putty. 

“Yes,” you whispered sweetly.

-----

Part 4 Masego’s Poem Part 6

@l-auteuse @ghostfacekill-monger @thickemadame @chaneajoyyy @soulfood-fics @nizzle-mo @jamielennkeeler @pineappear @miss-nneka @thadelightfulone @qweentbh @bigbrows-biggerdreams @rosemilage @sarcastic-sunshines @justanothernerdgirl​ @cyntgefel01​ @libbylivliv​ @theboldlady​ @geriixox​ @seffyn​ @errin261​ @migosis​ @cocogodess15​ @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade​ @kemkem101​ @peacefuldesiress​ @babbyaangel​ @mooon-berry​ @ju5tp34chy​ @teardropzih @highasfantasy @shaekingshitup

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 1

So this started out as anon request for a Chuck Taylor or Orange Cassidy fic, and with the help of @hotyeehawman it somehow morphed into a monster 26-part Adam Page and Kenny Omega fic, with a lot of other folks thrown in. So if you’re finding this for the first time, the good news is it’s complete. Enjoy!

Best Two Out of Three

Synopsis: Orange and Chuck both want their friend Alex to accompany them to the ring for their matches at Double or Nothing - so Alex devises a contest.

Part: 1/26

Pairings: None really in this chapter, but hints at Kenny Omega x OFC

Warnings: Alcohol use, some suggestive language

Word Count: 2,512

Find the rest of the fic here.

“Are you sure it’s cool if I come hang out with you guys?”

Alex sent Kris a look like she’d grown a second head. “Of course it’s cool. I adore Chuck, Trent, and James, but sometimes I need to hang out with another girl.”    

They walked into the hotel elevator and Alex hit the button for the fifth floor. It was the night before AEW Double or Nothing 2020, and the Best Friends were having a little get-together in their rooms. It was a much-needed opportunity to cut loose and experience a little normalcy in the midst of the pandemic, and Alex in particular could use a few cold ones to take the edge off. She was still annoyed with Kenny for giving the match against Kris tomorrow night to Penelope Ford instead of her. She rolled her eyes as the elevator doors slid open with a ding. If he wasn’t over at the arena pre-filming the Stadium Stampede match with the rest of The Elite and The Inner Circle, she might have marched up to his room and given him a piece of her mind.

“So who all’s gonna be there?” Kris asked as they stepped off the elevator.

“The usual suspects,” Alex answered. “My knucklehead stablemates, Scorpio, Frankie, Jack, Austin, and you and me.”

“No Maxwell?”

She smirked. “I told him he could only come if he brought Michael, and then we’d be over the 10-person limit for social gatherings.”

She let out a loud laugh. “So you totally invited Michael behind his back, right?”

“I did,” she confirmed. “But he politely declined.”

They arrived at Alex and Chuck’s room, and she slid her key into the electronic lock. “I’m back with an alien and beer!” she proclaimed as she opened the door—but she got no response. Chuck and James were embroiled in a heated debate; well, about as heated as James, a.k.a. the one and only Orange Cassidy, could get.

“Dude! Why would she come out with you for the ladder match?” Chuck charged.

James’s face remained as stoic as ever. “Because she’s my friend.”

Chuck’s eyebrows arched high onto his forehead. “She’s literally my best friend!”

Ever so slightly, James cocked his head. “Penelope’s probably coming out with Kip for it,” he coolly pointed out.

“Penelope is Kip’s girlfriend!”

“And Alex is my friend who’s a girl.”

“Hey!” Alex interjected as she set the case of beer on the floor. Everyone turned to look at her. “I’m right here.”

“Oh, thank God,” Trent breathed. “You need to settle this. They’ve been arguing since you left.”

Her face contorted with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “About what?”

“About whether you should accompany Chuck and Trent to the ring for their match or Freshly Squeezed for his match tomorrow night,” Jack answered.

Alex blinked. “And why wouldn’t I just do both?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Chuck argued.

James didn’t so much as blink. “What he said.”

Kris snorted under her breath. Alex sent her a look. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

“Seriously, please put us all out of our misery,” Frankie groaned. “And can I get one of those?” He didn’t wait for permission as he eagerly picked up the beer case and tore into it. But Alex couldn’t care less; the wheels in her brain were turning.

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, there’s only one way to settle this, then: a contest for my accompaniment tomorrow night. Best two out of three wins.”

Chuck pressed his lips into a hard line, thinking. And then he said, “You got yourself a deal.”

Alex looked at James. “Orange?”

He shrugged—barely. “Sure.”

She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Then let the games begin, boys.”

* * * * * * * * * *

They couldn’t just play Rock, Paper, Scissors and call it a night; Alex was more creative than that. In order to be graced with her presence during his match, the winner would have to prove both his strength and wit—and round one was a good old fashioned relay.

“Alright!” Alex commanded everyone’s attention, a beer in hand. “These are the rules for round one. First, you must chug a beer. Second, you must complete twenty-five push-ups—real ones, none of that on-your-knees bullshit. Finally, you must braid either Jack or Austin’s hair. The first one to finish is the winner. Obviously.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Austin muttered.

“But you’ll look so pretty!” Kris proclaimed. He just grunted.

“Alright; Scorpio, I need you to count James’s push-ups,” Alex delegated. “Frankie, you count Chuck’s.”

Frankie laughed to himself. “That won’t be hard.”

“Shut it and give me a beer,” Chuck ordered. He already had his game face on. Alex couldn’t help but admire him for it.

Frankie passed one beer to Chuck and another to James. And then they both looked up at Alex. Waiting.

“On your marks...” she started. “Get set… Go!”

They simultaneously flipped open their drink tabs and started chugging as the room all cheered them on. Alex was genuinely interested to see who would finish first—but she wasn’t surprised when Chuck did. He crushed the can in his fist and tossed it aside just as James finished, and they both got into push-up position. Scorpio and Frankie both started counting; James was going nearly twice as fast as Chuck.

“Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…” Scorpio counted.

“Dude, he’s smoking you,” Trent commented to Chuck.

“Why aren’t you counting out loud?!” Chuck shouted at Frankie.

“Focus!” he returned.

“Twenty! Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five!”

James jumped up and ran over to where Austin sat on one of the beds. He separated his hair into three parts and started trying to braid.

“Twenty-five!” Frankie shouted. Chuck hurried over to Jack—and stared at his hair in bewilderment.

“How the hell am I supposed to do this? His hair is as big as he is!”

“Thank you,” Jack grinned.

He grabbed a chunk of Jack’s curls and tried to separate it from the rest; but before he could figure it out, Kris let out a shout. “Orange wins!”

“Fuck!” Chuck proclaimed.

Alex walked over to inspect James’s braid. Surprisingly, it wasn’t terrible. “Round one goes to Orange Cassidy,” she confirmed.

“Why do you know how to braid hair?” Chuck shot.

James just shrugged.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Alright, boys; time for round two: trivia.”

Alex paused for dramatic affect. Everyone in the room stared back at her, waiting. They were thoroughly invested in this idiotic competition she’d concocted, and she couldn’t be happier about it. “I’ve given our lovely galactic game show host,” she motioned to Kris, “five questions with their correct answers—all of them about yours truly. She will read each question aloud. If you know the answer, buzz in on your respective cell phones with the convenient buzzer app that Trent found; thank you Trent. If you answer incorrectly, the other person will have a chance to steal. First one to three correct answers wins.”

“Cool, let’s go,” Chuck said, his thumb hovering above the buzzer button on his phone screen. Alex pursed her lips; he was too competitive for his own good.

Kris cleared her throat and stood up straighter. She looked down at the hotel room notepad Alex had given her, and read out the first question. “Alright, we’re starting off with an easy one,” she prefaced. “What’s the name of Alex’s submission finisher?”

BZZZ! They both buzzed in—but James beat out Chuck by a second. “Orange?” Kris asked.

“Eighty-Eight Sleeper,” he answered.

“Correct!”

Chuck stubbornly sucked his teeth. “I bet you don’t know why it’s called that.”

James sent him a blank look. “Because it’s a Dragon Sleeper and she was born in 1988, the year of the dragon.”

“He should get an extra point for that,” Frankie piped up.

Chuck rounded on him. “Are you trying to sabotage me?”

“Alright, alright,” Alex intervened. “While that is why it’s called that, there will be no extra points awarded. It’s one-nothing James. Next question, please!”

Kris looked back down at the notepad. “How old was Alex when she started training?”

BZZZ! Chuck shouted out the answer before James even had a chance. “Nineteen! And she was trained by Jimmy Valiant in the same class as Adam Page!”

Kris sent her a surprised look. “Really?”

Alex nodded. “Yup. Hangman and I go way back. But like I just said, there’s no extra points, so we’re tied one-one. I appreciate your enthusiasm, though,” she grinned at Chuck. He didn’t acknowledge it; he was still in competition mode.

“Okay, next question,” Kris started. “Who was Alex’s favorite pro wrestler growing up?”

BZZZ! James beat out Chuck by a hair. But then he paused; he didn’t actually know the answer. “Eddie Guerrero?”

“Wrong!” Kris proclaimed. “Chuck, you have a chance—”

“CHRIS JERICHO!” he shouted before she could finish.

She blinked. “That’s correct.”

“How did you get that wrong?!” Scorpio said to James. “Chris teases her about it practically every time he sees her!”

He shook his head in a rare showing of emotion. “I blanked.”

“Okay. For the third and potentially final question,” Kris dramatically announced. She looked down at the notepad and preemptively laughed as she read the question to herself before stating it aloud. “Who does Alex totally want to punch in the face right now?”

“What?” Chuck and James both sent each other looks of confusion.

“I know it,” Trent muttered.

“OH!” It was as if a lightbulb went off above Chuck’s head and he quickly mashed his buzzer. “Kenny!”

“Yes!” Alex proclaimed. She muttered under her breath as she took a sip of beer, “I totally want to punch Kenny in his stupid face right now.”

“Well then, round two goes to Sexy Chuckie T!” Kris announced.

“YES!” Chuck pointed a finger in James’s face. “You suck!”

“We’re tied,” he flatly returned.

“Yes; indeed you are,” Alex returned. “And that means it’s time for round three --sudden death.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sudden Death” was nothing more than “Never Have I Ever.” But, quite frankly, Alex was a little nervous. She knew this group of people—and she knew they had little to no shame.

“Okay, these are the rules,” she explained. “We’ll play like normal—but Chuckie and Orange will be the only ones putting down their fingers. The first one to put down all three fingers is the loser of the round.”

“Okay, just to clarify,” Scorpio asked, “so whoever still has fingers up at the end wins the whole thing?”

She nodded. “Correct.”

“I don’t like this,” Chuck said, even as he held up three fingers. “Y’all are gonna say things you know I’ve done to make me lose.”

“Never have I ever been a conspiracy theorist,” Frankie smirked. Chuck didn’t think it was funny.

“Especially you!”

“Alright, he actually has a point,” Alex begrudgingly admitted. “Let’s keep it unbiased. Kris, you start.”

Kris put a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… oh, I know,” she smirked. “Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs.”

Alex let out a loud burst of laughter. “Maybe if Trent was playing,” she commented.

“Jeez, Alex, just put me on blast,” Trent returned.

She just smirked and took another sip of beer.

“So neither of you have done that, either?” Kris asked.

“I’m the Kentucky Gentleman, Kris,” Chuck said as James shook his head.

She arched her eyebrows. “Color me surprised.”

“Alright, all fingers are still up,” Alex said. Let’s go to the right. Scorpio, you’re up.”

Scorpio deviously stroked his chin as he looked back and forth between Chuck and James. “Never have I ever… walked in on people having sex.”

There was an anxious pause—and then Chuck put down a finger.

Alex gasped. “What? Who?!”

He cringed. “Someone at my wrestling school back in Kentucky. It was gross.”

She crinkled her nose in disgust. “Well then. Your turn, Trent.”

He had a statement at the ready. “Never have I ever seen Alex naked.”

“DUDE!” she proclaimed. Meanwhile, Chuck and James both put down a finger.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Okay. No judgment, but please explain.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “It was an accident, and I was only half-naked. They walked in on me while I was changing earlier.”

“That happened today?” Scorpio asked.

“Hence why I said it,” Trent smirked.

Alex’s cheeks burned. “Next!”

That meant Frankie was up. “Alright. Never have I ever… pissed myself during a match.”

“Oh, gross!” Kris laughed—and James put down a finger.

“What!” Alex proclaimed, wide-eyed. “Okay, now you need to explain.”

 He pursed his lips. “Back when I was Fire Ant, Gran Akuma kicked me right in the bladder during a match. I drank too much water that night and a little came out.”

“Oh shit!” Chuck proclaimed. “I remember that!”

Alex and Kris looked at each other—and burst out laughing. “Okay, okay,” Alex eventually said. “You both only have one finger left. Whoever puts a finger down next is the loser.”

“Pressure’s on,” Jack said as he rubbed his hands together. He smirked. “Never have I ever drunkenly confessed my love for someone.”

“OH COME ON!” Chuck shouted as he put down his last finger. “You said that on purpose!”

Jack shook his head. “Dude, no I didn’t,” he said with a laugh. “I swear to God.”

“Who did you confess your love to?” Kris curiously asked.

Chuck looked sheepishly down at the floor. “Alex,” he muttered.

Kris’s jaw dropped as she turned wide eyes on Alex. “When did this happen?”

“After Double or Nothing last year,” she said.

“I was three sheets to the wind and we were in Vegas, alright?” Chuck explained before anyone else could put in their two cents. “Besides, I didn’t mean love like in love. I meant it like, ‘I love you, you’re my best friend.’”

Trent patted his back. “You keep telling yourself that, bud.”

“I did mean in that way!” he insisted.

“Okay, well however you meant it,” Alex interjected, “you lost the round, which means that Freshly Squeezed here has won the right to my accompaniment tomorrow night.”

Chuck pouted. “Man…”

“BUT.” Alex held up a finger. “We all know I don’t have the final say on that. It’s up to the EVPs and Tony.”

Chuck looked back up at her. “What? Then why the hell did you make us do all that?”

She shrugged. “Because it was fun.”

“It really was,” Kris agreed, and everyone else echoed the sentiment. Everyone, that is, except Chuck and James.

“If I explain to Kenny what happened tonight,” James started, “he’ll probably honor my victory.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “NO!” she proclaimed. “You’re hereby disqualified; I’m going out with Chuck and Trent tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Chuck raised his arms in victory. “You suck, Orange!”

The room erupted as everyone started arguing and talking over each other again. But Alex sat back, a contented smile on her face. The Best Friends really were her best friends and, in that moment, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

[luciddeparture]

Is Meditation for Morons?

I’m can’t exactly recall the first time I decided to meditate. I just know what happened when I finally bothered to learn how to. It has since had a profound effect on my life. 

Now I know what you are probably thinking… “Meditation? I don’t need any of that woo woo crap in my life.” That’s at least how I used to feel about it, but who knows? Maybe you are a little bit less cynical than I was. 

It is somewhat ironic that I am now the one who is writing a blog on meditation and its benefits.

When I first heard about meditation I immediately dismissed it, until I rediscovered it about two years ago whilst listening to a podcast called The Tim Ferris Show. The podcast is a series of interviews where Tim Ferris interviews top performers in a variety of fields from all around the world. Surprisingly, over “80% of the people [he] interviews have some form of meditation practice”. That’s a significant percentage! I’m by no means insinuating that we all need to be world-class performers, but I feel that it could not hurt to learn from those who are achieving high levels of success. Especially when there is an easily identifiable common trait, which in this case is meditation. 

It slowly became clearer and clearer to me that meditation might be less bullshit than I had originally anticipated. 

Before we get into things, it is important to acknowledge that although meditation is now becoming increasingly commercialised and “trendy” in Western Cultures, meditation has been a huge component of many spiritual practices for many hundreds of years. In the East, meditation played a huge role in particular in both Hinduism and Buddhism. The earliest records of Meditation can be found in the Vedas, a religious text written in Sanskrit in 500bc.  After reading the Vedas the Buddha added his own spin too, developing his own technique called Satipatthana, which is now most commonly known as Mindfulness. The direct translation is Sati (Attention) or (Remember) + Upa (Inside) + Thana (to keep) So Satipatthana means: To keep your attention inside. 

Transcendental Meditation was introduced to the West in part by the popular culture of the 1960’s. A notable contribution was The Beatles sharing their experiences after visiting India. Although Mindfulness meditation was introduced much later to Western Cultures. Throughout this article I will primarily be discussing the effects of Mindfulness Meditation.

Over the last few years, the process of meditation, as well as its effects, has become a rapidly expanding subfield of neurological research. One of the most interesting experiments involved scientists conducting tests on a Monk, finding that although he was 41 he had the brain of a 33 year old. They gave him an FMRI scan while asking him to cultivate a sense of compassion by meditating, and the neural activity in his empathy circuits grew by 700-800%!  One of the researches later wrote “Such an extreme increase befuddles science.” 

When most of us anticipate getting burned our pain receptors act as though we are already suffering. So much so that when the pain actually comes nothing really changes. Once the physical stimulus stops the mental pain slowly subsides. Expert meditators act much less in anticipation of the pain and feel the pain more intensely while the stimulus is present. Their awareness of the pain ceases immediately as soon as the stimulus is removed.  

Interestingly enough, the emotional centre for  the brain, the Amygdala, acts in a similar fashion to the pain response. Meditators are often much better at responding in anticipation to emotional stress.

I’m someone who has always lived predominately inside their thoughts, probably leaning on the more erratic side. The thought of being able to sit in silence sorta freaked me out, not to mention seeming borderline impossible.

To understand what my mind looks like, you need to look no further than The Simpsons. Remember that scene where Homer is listening to Marge and inside his brain a monkey is clanging symbols? That’s the relationship I had with my brain almost all of the time. I believe this is the same for most of us. 

Let’s put this to the test. You, my lucky reader, can be the test subject of a little experiment on your own psyche. For the next minute, I want you to close your eyes and just do your best to focus solely on your breath. 3…2..1. GO! 

How did you go? Did you get lost in your thoughts? Did you forget entirely that you were even trying to focus at all? Where did your mind take you? Your relationship (or lack of)? Work? Or maybe even what you might have for dinner?

I found that when I first began meditating my mind would sometimes find itself distracted on the most obscure things. The reason why I am illustrating this point is because often when I speak to others who have tried meditation for the first time, I hear “I tried meditation, and it’s not for me - I just think too much”. I hate to say it, but these are the people who probably should be learning to meditate most of all. 

The way I see meditation, is similar to closing background apps on your phone. It saves battery, and it just makes your phone faster. No brainer. I believe the same is true with meditation and giving your brain a break from constantly thinking. 

A lot of the people who are reading this article will have grown up with internet access. Therefore,  you have been bombarded with external stimuli in each and every moment. Bzzz, Bzzzz, Bzzzzzzzz. I’m sure that most of you will have received a messages even whilst reading this article.

Our brains have been over stimulated and are in a constant state of overdrive. Even when we are asleep our brains are constantly thinking, even if it is in the form of dreams! Obviously that isn’t a negative on it’s own, in fact sleep is crucial for the brain. But when you add everything up it’s a lot for a brain that has only been subject to this much stimuli for around 15 years - the first iPhone only came out 13 years ago. 

As you discovered just before, learning to “not think” doesn’t happen instantly. Like you, when I first attempted to sit in silence and tried to focus on my breath it did not work. My monkey mind remained supreme. Once again I was convinced that it wasn’t for me. But like all skills, meditation takes time and discipline to both learn, and improve. 

I’m not saying this to deter you, it’s just the truth. An easy comparison might be to say that you wanted to learn how to play a musical instrument. It would be ridiculous to expect that you would be able to play your favourite song after your first time attempting to pick up the instrument. The same logic can be applied to meditation. It takes time, practice and discipline - however unlike musical instruments, you bring your mind to all situations in life. In my opinion, sharpening your ability to think is well worth the investment. According to scientific studies Mindfulness meditation induces big changes in the minds of experts, but when beginners first meditate not much happens.

At its core, the aim of meditation is to become more present in each moment by focusing and training attention and awareness. This is to achieve a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state. This in turn gives you the ability to have significantly more control of how you react to external and internal stimuli when they arise in your life.

In Mindfulness meditation, the goal is to act as an observer whilst focusing on your breath, watching your conscious experience as thoughts and sensations arise and disappear. 

As mentioned earlier we are often multi tasking, with tech and external stimuli, but even whilst we are not, we remain deep in thought. We are often living in the past or in the future through memory rather than in each and every moment.  

Meditation helps you learn how to not be constantly reactive to stimuli on the inside or outside. When I meditate, I find that it simply quiets my mind. It’s a simple reset of the brain allowing me to slow down and focus solely on the present. 

Another way of looking at it is that meditation is like going to the gym. You can see it as a way of working out your mind. To begin with your mind will wander, time traveling from the past to the future. But with practice you can slowly train your mind to become more present.

Being present throughout the day allows me to consciously make better decisions, rather than just remaining on autopilot. 

As hedge fund billionaire Ray Dalio puts it “When you're centred, your emotions are not hijacking you”. “Meditation is 'the single most important reason for my success.”

If you are looking to start meditation, Mindfulness meditation apps are a great way to initially learn how to meditate. I still find myself using one most days. Having tried all of them, I would recommend Sam Harris’ Waking Up app. Its thirty day training course is clear and concise and an awesome starting point to learn how to meditate. After that, new daily meditations appear on the app. Harris is a Neuroscientist and an Atheist and breaks meditation down in a way that is less spiritual which might make more sense to a western audience. 

Worried it’s going to cost too much? If you can’t afford a subscription, you can email the help section and receive a one year free subscription. No questions asked. You have no excuse not to try it! 

Other Mindfulness app alternatives are: 

- Headspace - Andy Puddicombe

- Smiling Mind (An Australian non-profit alternative)

For further learning check out these guys:

Sam Harris, Mooji, Ram Dass and Andy Puddicombe

I am by no means an expert in this field, I just wanted to share something which has improved the quality of my life by at least 10%. I hope that it works for you too!