#but then again i keep seeing my stolen shit so it's pent up anger

[dreamwatch]

There Goes My Hero

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #12 - Prompt: Ow! | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: language, canon typical violence, fat shaming, mention of blood, injuries, mention of past bullying | POV: Matt | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, violence, fighting,

This was the very first thing I wrote for CCFest back in April!

****

Matt’s not a fighter. He’s not brave. 

He spent years skulking around the halls of Hawkins High, desperately trying to make himself smaller, to make himself invisible. Until Eddie came along and told them it was all bullshit anyway. Until Eddie came along, bigger and bolder than everyone else, a huge willow tree for them all to take shelter under.

Fighting to him, to all of them he thinks, is learning to take a slap and then walking it off. Saying ’it’s fine, it doesn’t even hurt’ as you wipe the blood from under your nose. Not biting back when they call you a fat fuck.

Fighting to him is just taking it.

And that’s mortifying, honestly, fucking pathetic, but he just wanted to keep his head down, play his music and DnD, and be left alone.

So he doesn’t know where it came from, so suddenly, although maybe that’s a lie. Like saying it doesn’t hurt when your face stings, and you’re standing in the hallway, humiliated. If he digs deep, really thinks hard about it, then it’s probably years of pent-up anger. Of having his shit stolen from his locker, of seeing his friends getting picked on and not having the guts to do a fucking thing about it other than watch and hope you’re not next. So yeah, blind, impotent rage, right? The kind that makes good people go off in the world and do bad things. 

This was his bad thing.

He hopes the other guy is okay, mostly because he doesn’t want to go to jail. He hasn’t seen Eddie since they got brought in to the ER, and he really hopes he’s okay. His face looked a mess. 

This was the eighth show on their little midwestern tour. They put it together themselves, all piled into the van, and Jeff’s station wagon (they’d laughed when he bought it, but it was a genius idea in retrospect), and just took off for a few shows over the summer. Nothing big. No real agenda other than to play and get the fuck out of Hawkins.

It would be understating it to say that Hawkins had done a number on Eddie. They still have no idea what happened. Eddie told them he got bit by dogs which just made them angry, honestly, because the stench coming off that bullshit was stifling. What they do know for sure is that he nearly died. That whatever happened left him hollowed out, physically and mentally. That it broke something in their friend, which broke something in them.

Watching Eddie recover was hard. They were all sure the band was over but in some fucked up, twisted, alternate-dimension weirdness, Steve Harrington got Eddie to play again. 

Steve. 

Harrington. 

What the fuck?

And fuck knows what he did, or said, or bribed Eddie with, but it worked. He picked up the guitar again, trading lead for rhythm with Jeff while he built up his strength and coordination, but for all that he was frustrated the light came back on. Eddie was back.

Matt wasn’t letting anyone take him away again.

It only took one show at The Hideout to know they were never going to play there again. Eddie was a curiosity now, something to be gawped at. Someone thought it would be hilarious to throw a cheerleader’s pom pom onto the stage, and it sent Eddie into a spiral. He holed up in the bathroom and wouldn’t let anyone in until Steve showed up and alikazam! the door opens. They were in there for an hour. Eddie was red-eyed and a little dazed afterwards and that was the last night they ever played in Hawkins. 

They’re in Des Moines when it happens. The show was great, objectively fucking awesome. There must have been a couple of hundred people in there, and the manager wanted them back, people asked for tapes. It couldn’t have gone any better.

So of course it went to shit.

They’d barely opened the back of the van to load up before some six-foot giant grabbed Eddie by the collar and punched him so hard in the face that blood sprayed from his nose, landing on Gareth beside him. There was a moment of complete silence, where it felt like the world just stopped or his vision had just whited out. And then—

He’s never punched anyone before, is the thing. He didn’t know there were ways you’re supposed to hold your hand, your thumb, and even if he did he’s not sure he would have done it anyway. What he does know, now at least, is that he has a mean fucking right hook. Jeff was trying to push the giant off Eddie, and Gareth was standing there with Eddie’s blood on the side of his face, shocked to shit to be fair to him, so the asshole didn’t get a second to register Matt approaching, hitting him square in the jaw and onto his ass.

And he doesn’t know what happened after that really, just that he was kicking him, boot slamming into the soft side of the man on the floor, over and over until it was Eddie, face like an abattoir floor, that pulled him off.

He mulls it over while he waits for an X-Ray. There’s definitely something broken, he can feel the grinding when he moves his hand and it hurts like a motherfucker. They still had a few shows to go. He ruined the tour with one punch. 

Jeff opens the curtain and sits next to him on the bed.

“How’s the hand?”

“Fucked. How’s Eddie’s nose?”

“Fucked.”

They sit in silence, shoulder-to-shoulder, self-declared best friends forever. 

“I can’t believe someone recognised him out here,” Jeff mutters, maybe to himself, Matt can’t be sure.

They don’t say it, but they’re both thinking it; Hawkins is going to follow Eddie everwhere. Follow them everywhere. And they can’t keep fighting their way out of things every time it catches up with them.

[nerves-nebula]

Uh. Thought I'd try my hand at writing fics for you because I had this idea in class where the "good" and "bad" timeline Leos meet. It gets a little uhhhhhh intense. Hope you like it.

The Leonardo who let them go huffed furiously, keeping a white-knuckle grip on his beaten-up katanas. He'd been chasing her for a while now, claiming she was an "imposter" sent by some mystic foe.

The Leonardo who broke his brother's arm fought the urge to collapse. She smoothed back the skin of her skull with an aggravated groan. "Look, I'm just trying to get back home- alright? One of Don's expirements went wrong and-"

"Keep that traitor's name out of your fucking mouth," the other growled, raising a sword to point at him, "And stop acting like you're me."

She dragged a hand down her face. "Can you stop it with this whole 'macho hero man' shtick, already?" Was he really this annoying as a kid? No wonder her brothers hated him, "Yes, I am you- though, from the looks of it, this is the 'everything goes to shit' timeline. Like that one episode of Space Heroes where Captain Grant becomes a villain."

Then the feral idiot was running at him again. He groaned and dodged, as he'd come to do around this horrific version of herself. It seemed that in the other version's time with Splinter, he'd only managed to get sloppier as pent-up emotions took control over years of training and abuse. The one who broke her brother's arm, however, had been an unofficial defender of the Hidden City for quite the fucking while.

With a quick twist to the angry one's wrist and a knee into his plastron, he took one of his attacker's swords and sent her other self collapsing onto the ground.

She slowly pointed the stolen sword to his head. "Look, I just need you to tell me where Donnie is. Maybe he can send me home so I can never see your stupid, fugly face ever again."

The other Leonardo simply started to laugh. It didn't seem too insincere, if he was reading it right. Like he was laughing at a stupid pun or something.

Finally, Leonardo gave into the temptation that crawled into the corners of his mind and slammed a foot down on her counterpart's chest, knocking the wind out of him. "What is so fucking funny, here?" He growled.

"Whoever made you did a really bad job," The other slider purred in response, "I haven't seen that fucking coward in years. Besides, look at you-" He made a vague gesture toward her, "-As if I'd ever be such a fucking sissy to tie up my mask in a bow. What? Did your 'brothers' infect you? Did their fruitiness rub off on you after living with you for so long?" He cackled, "Guess I was always right about little Don and Raphie being fucking pansies after all!"

Something rose up inside him. A blaze of anger scorching through her brain. Digging up old feelings and arguments and- "Does Splinter still like the noises you make?"

The one who let them go went still at that, eyes wide and somewhat panicked. Deep down, she knew it would be wrong to keep pressing with this for her own sick self-indulgence.

"Do you still like it when he pulls your tail?" He needed to stop. This was wrong. Why was she doing this anyway?

The terrified look on his face was intoxicating. He was being put in his fucking place.

"Does it hurt your feewings that they left you alone with him?" He cooed, "Do you still think that daddy is the only one who'll ever understand you?"

"Shut up," The other hissed, panic evident in his voice, "You don't know what the hell you're even talking about."

"I know you had a box of dresses from April hidden under your bed when you were fifteen," She said with an evil grin, "I know that he beat the shit out of you when he found out. No trannies allowed here, no sirree."

"Stop it."

"I know he raped you in one of them. Told you if you wanted to be a girl so bad, he'd fucking treat you like one."

"Stop it."

"I know you couldn't leave him if you tried. No, you're too good a daddy's boy. It's not like anyone would take you in, anyway. We both know that there's no fucking hope for some shithead lowlife who can only take-"

"I SAID, STOP IT!!" He screeched, interrupting his rant.

The one who broke his brother's arm briefly came to her senses. There was something wet on her face, making his mask cling to her cheek uncomfortably. He looked down to his other self. The slider was crying, digging his palms around the rusted edge of his own sword in an attempt to push her back. He'd been so lost in it she'd barely noticed the resistance.

"You- You don't-" the abused man fumbled, "You don't know me! You're- You're just some stupid, defective clone making shit up to get a rise outta me!"

Leonardo took her foot off the other's chest and took a small step back. The spider's hands slid off the blade with a sharp shing. Clumps of blood and torn skin dripped onto his stomach. Too much blood. Too much blood too much blood too much

"Where does your Donnie live? Or... or do you at least know where he works?" He asked. It came out much quieter than he meant to, but he feared if he raised his voice it would crack.

"Big Mama," He breathed, "He works for Big Mama."

She gave a small nod and softly set down his counterpart's sword. The other Leonardo regarded him with great suspicion and lingering fear. "If- If I hear anything about him dying, I- I'll kill you."

Wouldn't be the first time she tried to kill herself.

She took a few steps toward the ledge and stayed there for a moment. He readjusted his things and sighed.

"It's easier for them to want to help you when you try to be nice," He gulped, "But uh... Don't treat them like Father. They get weirded out by that."

There was a clank and a shuffle from behind. He was going to try and attack him again, wasn't he?

"And uh... if you meet a rabbit guy that looks weirdly like the samurai from that old Usagi show," The noises behind him stopped for a moment, "Maybe don't bring up the toy."

wanted to make u some art about how much i liked this <<33 its 1 AM i am. so tired. anyway i really liked the line "do you still like it when he pulls your tail" its so fucked up. she honestly coulda stopped there, woulda had him foaming like a rabid dog.

[shijiujun]

On Translations

Once again, I’m just plain incensed by dumbasses who think it’s okay to firstly, steal someone else’s hard work and secondly, think they’ve got some right to edit that person’s work because they think they’ve got a better grip on English (not true btw) - It didn’t happen to me (well, as far as I know) and I’m not in the Guardian fandom and I don’t personally know the person who’s dealing with this ridiculous shit, but oof am I angry after seeing the tweet.

Just saw on twitter that some asshole stole a translator’s works (Guardian, Chinese to English) and edited it - Yes it’s just like the MDZS saga a few weeks ago when some white person who doesn’t have any Chinese language knowledge, tried to ‘improve’ translations done by another person who actually knows what they’re doing in both Chinese and English - And then put in on Wattpad with a ridiculous letter and intro where they said: “Great things can be made greater” to explain why they edited the English of the original translation.

“Great things can be made greater,” said the thief.

“I hope my actions will be appreciated,” said the thief again.

Like wow, once again, the audacity - There’ve been extensive arguments on translations since the MDZS saga a few weeks ago and obviously the fan who took ExR’s translations and ‘made them better’ stupidly stepped on a landmine by fucking with the MDZS fandom that has a longer history, more resources and clout than the amount of time she’s been exposed to MDZS via CQL, and got bitch-slapped by the rest of the fandom where there exists a majority of fans knowing clearly what to do and not to do.

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said of all fandoms, especially smaller ones - The user i saw is a translator for Guardian and the mofo 1. Stole their translations 2. Edited the translations to ‘better english’ 3. Wrote that they don’t know who did the original translations but “they know where to find me” *cue my eyeroll* 4. And after op commented to say please credit at the very least in May, they’ve been ignored so far - but luckily they’ve got some supporters as well to help report the mofo.

Aside from the ridiculous thievery (not crediting, blatantly lying and stealing, being an arrogant, indecent person stuck on that high horse) of course, the “I believe that great things can be made greater” is a fucking load of bullshit in this instance, and I mean taking someone else’s translations and adding your own spin to it because you think you’ve taken tests in English as a first language in school all your life (fuck off, a lot of these translators did too), that you’ve got some superiority over English or because you think it reads funny?

Granted, most fan translators don’t put up flawless translations (once again, these translators are FREE LABOUR), but you get it for free and you don’t have to (and can’t) read the original text, so suck it up.

Moreover, the disgust that I feel at the claim that the thief’s work is now ‘greater’ is extremely visceral - It’s not a greater piece of work because the thief stole it, period. No one asked for the thief’s help.

(In case you guys are curious the stolen post on Wattpad is here: https://my.w.tt/7dehLj7D56 and if you’d like to report just follow the instructions)

On Chinese to English translations:

1. If you don’t have good grasp of the original language, you have no right editing the translated work after, regardless of language. Until you can clearly understand the original idioms, context, characters etc. or have at least lived with the language for a substantial part of your life, honestly, just stop, you’ve got no right! 

Sure, some translators aren’t as good as you like them to be, but the argument is always, well, you wouldn’t even have this minimal translation if they didn’t do it, so yay you’re like a few sentences and words closer to the text than you were before. If it’s really that bad, hopefully there are better translations and you can ignore the one you’re looking at, but the same rules apply across all translations!! Don’t disrespect the translator (especially when they’ve done nothing wrong except try to give you access to more content).

2. For Chinese, it’s even worse because the language is known for its hidden nuances and complexities within just two to four characters that, when translated into English, can sometimes take up to two long sentences to explain. That’s why sometimes shit reads funny. It’s not that these translators can’t do English, but Chinese to English acrobatics is beyond your comprehension, hell sometimes it’s beyond translators’ comprehension, so thanks for editing something you’ve got no idea about. This user Bee made a very good argument thread IMO about this on Twitter which I suggest people read

3. Adding your edits to a translated piece of work especially without permission or discussion with the translator, honestly who the fuck are you to do that? Either work your damn ass off by painstakingly translating the original and then editing it however you like, or just... enjoy the free content. Chinese BL novels (in this instance and as in many instances i’ve seen) and some of these translators have been around for longer than you’ve been in the fandom, so suddenly when you have an interest in the content, in a culture and language that you’ve never seen before, are unfamiliar with and have zero knowledge about, you think that as a fan you now have the right to edit someone else’s work that was already done correctly? 

The fact is if the translator wrote a bogus line in the English translations, you wouldn’t have known, and when you upload it as your own and ‘improve’ it, you would be a joke, but you didn’t read the original text did you, so what makes you are any sort of authority to edit the translations?

4. Of course this is not to say that non-Chinese speaking people can’t enjoy the same content or have excellent, poignant discussions and understanding over the content, but honestly a lot of translations don’t capture 100% of a Chinese novel because the nuances are just that complex, and translators do their best to convey it regardless - This is why RESPECT FOR THE TRANSLATOR IS IMPORTANT. And I don’t mean simply paying lip service and typing “we respect all translators for their hard work on this work”, and then disrespect it entirely by not crediting, by the simple act of editing without permission etc.

Respect their interpretation and translations, because it can differ from translator to translator translating the same sentence (and people who don’t speak the original language want to compete with that, I don’t understand?!)

5. Honestly, considering how people are still arguing on the semantics of the Bible for example, not only in its original language but also in English alone - if people can’t agree on every sentence of the holy text and what each sentence means to different people, fan translators get a fucking pass

6. I read in Bee’s threads where someone disagreed with their argument of ‘only people who understand the original language can translate and edit’, saying that it’s okay if the editor doesn’t have a grasp of the original language - I understand that yes, someone else’s English might truly be better (for e.g. actual editors but also please don’t proclaim that you’re one just because you think the translator hasn’t lived with English for most of their lives or whatever), but even then, the editor has to work really closely with the translator because the translator is the primary source of the translation i.e. they know exactly what is going on in a particular sentence in their heads that may not have been translated fully, so how can non-Chinese reading editors truly understand the translated text on its own, editing in silos?

7. Perhaps in actual publishing houses that deal with official translations, this is a fallacy that is ever-present and editors do that anyway without understanding the original text (not sure about this, I’m bringing up the point for consideration, hypothetically putting this out here), but my issue with ‘editors’ in the fan translations space is that they come off sitting on some high horse because they think they’re better in English than you are (which of course yes, might be true, but then read points 1-6 again)

8. A thief is a thief, don’t put up an open letter or disclaimer explaining your motivations. It’s plain and simple, you stole someone else’s work, claimed it for your own and are riding on the great (sometimes not so great but still great, if you get what I mean) work that the translator did. You don’t get to claim ownership for any part of it, even your edits. And once again, “original work belongs to the translators” without actually naming the translators? Fuck off.

9. God, I hate Wattpad and Instagram (okay sometimes Twitter but Twitter seems to be a halfway point) - The Sanctuaries for Lazy Content Thieves Where The Platform Endorses Their Shitty Behaviour

10. Aside from translations, I’ve also seen assholes stealing like shitposts and jokes - These are the hardest to prove as well and it’s almost impossible to claim ownership when someone steals your jokes. Thieves only wish they had as creative a brain as some of you (didn’t happen to me but to a mutual) do. The audacity. The audacity! if the work was actually done and paid and recorded, if TurnItIn.com was available for fandom posts, these thieves would be out of gas.

11. Fan translators are not obligated to answer to any of their readers when it comes to why they translated something a certain way. You don’t like it or don’t agree with it, simply ignore, close the tab and go find another translation you like, it’s that simple. Nowadays readers 1. Threaten/Diss the translator directly and rudely 2. Steal the work 3. Add their own spin on it without understanding the original content and say: Yay! Look at this I made it so much better so give me some attention 

*****

The point of this post is not to claim ownership over any fandom or content just because translators or Chinese-speaking/reading people in the fandom know the content better. It’s also not to say that non-Chinese speaking/reading people can’t enjoy, understand, have great discussions over original Chinese content, because just from MDZS alone you can see that they can. Of course there are also individuals who might not be able to speak the language but are familiar with Chinese culture etc. because they’ve studied or lived it well, or maybe they’ve actually watched decades of Chinese drama to be able to analyse it properly now, all that’s awesome. 

Also, I’m all for people who are learning Chinese (or any language for that matter) to translate something as practice. That’s great, that’s good, that’s to be admired!! 

It’s non-Chinese speaking/reading people who claim they know the original content better than translators without any discussions, claiming some superiority over the content because they think the translation is not done well enough without doing any of the ground work that I really have an issue with (and also the fuckers who steal of course XD).

*****

And unfortunately I had too much time on my hands today and got pissed off after seeing the tweet so some of you have to read through this drivel XD

[lemondelightful]

Dsmp Hogwarts Houses

But I know nothing about Harry Potter or Hogwarts Houses.

I'm running short on ideas so I'm going to do something that I've been holding off because I thought it was basic but you know.

Hope this isn't controversial.

===================================

Gryffindor

Now I have to say, I know nothing about Gryffindor or what qualities they value but based on what I do know I would say that the main, most obvious Gryffindors are Tommyinit, Foolish, and Awesamdude.

Do I have any reason for that, no, no I do not but it's what I would think most people would say they are because of the stigma at all Gryffindor's are the heroes and what not.

But on that logic and the fact that Foolish is there, welcome Dream XD and Callahan to the stage everybody, considering that they are gods and demi-gods, I think they have a right to be here.

But also on that note, Jack Manifold, now I put him in Gryffindor before the tales of the smp so I think I was pretty spot on for that one.

Oh and ConnorEatsPants, I don't care what people say, Connor is a Gryffindor, suck my dick.

Skeepy and Sapnap, major Gryffindors, they just give off that vibe that a Gryffindor would, whatever that vibe may be.

Jshlatt, because Gryffindor needs a villain, and Jshlatt just seems like the guy to think he's in Slytherin because he's dick, but he's in Gryffindor because he's a dick.

And Dream, more specifically, Mexican Dream, not for any real reason, I just think it'd be funny.

===================================

Slytherin

Okay, now we are on to the green house, Slytherin, a house I know a bit about, but like I said, not to much. Now the most obvious Slytherin to me is Purpled and Wilbur, I would also peg them for Ravenclaw but I feel as though Slytherin fits them a bit better.

Now for the rest of the goopy greeners, Slimecicle, BoomerNA and Georgenotfound, for these ones, I also feel them as Ravenclaws as well but Slytherin I feel just makes more sense, not for George though, I just think it would be funny to see him get confused between his house and Hufflepuff.

Eret and Eryn, I don't know what to tell you for them, really any sort of king should be in Slytherin and Eryn collects taxes for the king so, they deserve this house together.

Hannahxxrose, one bedwars player, two, she's good at it and I'm salty, three, if she played a significant part in the canon, probably every manipulative and angry, because at some point she had wings and they got stolen, when I say stolen I mean ripped off her back.

HBomb94, mate's old, old and angry but every funny so it makes up for that old factor, and in all lore he's ever been in, he was off to the side so he probably had a shit ton of pent up anger.

===================================

Hufflepuff

After all the tests I have taken that keeps saying I'm apart of Gryffindor or Slytherin and most of my friends saying I'd be a good Ravenclaw, I took a Pottermore quiz because my friend said they are the most accurate, well from my statics, they aren't because I'm not a Hufflepuff based on statics saying I'm not, Pottormore thinks overwise, but I'm doing it again later so go check out what I got on @van1-bs

Sorry, just wanted to rant a bit, but getting back on topic, Hufflepuffs, I love people from Hufflepuff, they are always so nice and overall kind to me even though they swear at me a lot but it's a mutual thing.

Now for me at least the most noticeable being a Hufflepuff is Karl, Ponk & Sally (because I believe she's technically canon and because Wilbur is a Slytherin and I hope this will give me points for giving into tropes). They seem to be more obvious but then again I feel if you meet a Hufflepuff, you know they're a Hufflepuff.

Okay, Tina because she's in Kinoko and it's Kinoko so I don't think she needs to much of an explanation, I do however think she'd make a great Gryffindor, I can also feel that applying to Ranboo and Michael(mcchill).

Antfrost at first gives off those Hufflepuff traits considering he's a cat and that quite literally my only reason he's here, and because I like him and he's always fought for good, and not a fan of government, I can also say that I think he'd make a great Slytherin.

And speaking of good Slytherin's, Tubbo, he has nukes, he's acts like a child, is the kindest people on the smp until you fuck with his baby and/or husband, loyal as fuck and yet so gullible, easy Hufflepuff.

===================================

Ravenclaw

Now who do I start off with for Ravenclaw, this is the house I know most about, considering I'm a dumbass and I find it ironic. Well my number one picks are Technoblade, Niki and Philza, all smart and witty in their rights, all apart of the Syndicate and all have the knowledge to be Ravenclaws, I don't see why they shouldn't be.

Badboyhalo and Puffy, I see them being Hufflepuffs but my brain said to me that they don't feel that way and the more I think about it the more I see that BBH in Hufflepuff wouldn't be right, he's much more smart and accepting but he's easily pissed off by Skeppy (who's in Gryffindor) and the whole thing with Ravenclaws getting pissed at Gryffindor apply here, and for Puffy, she's a therapist, she doesn't have a choice, she's either, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, this house just fit her better in my eyes.

Dream, Punz & Quackity, if you haven't noticed, these 3 are mass manipulators, for Dream it's more obvious but most people don't see it and that the whole point, with Quackity, people brush it off as him being sad and depressed which helps him, using it to his advantage and Punz, he's so subtle but it's there, he has all of the prison guards and a war chief wrapped around his fingers, and nobody is giving him credit. These although the manipulation doesn't make them a Ravenclaw, it's the way they all do it, and with their PvP skills, these just make them a perfect fit for Ravenclaw.

Now on to my last two, Fundy and Sam Nook, Fundy literally codes and Sam is a robot, I don't know why they would be put anywhere else but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff but the way the act makes me thing Ravenclaw is the perfect fit for them.

[fumingspice]

i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: “I just wanted a happy ending.” “I’m drunk in love with you.” “If you quote a Taylor Swift or Fleetwood Mac song one more time I’ll slap you.”

Warnings: slightly drunk delia, angsty, mentions of ill mental health. happy ending

A/N: I don’t even know. I think I’m just projecting at this rate. I wrote this instead of doing another of my five history essays due for Friday so if my teacher kills me in my sleep you know why <3

and when you can’t sleep at night; you hear my stolen lullaby.

Madison Montgomery grunted in frustration. Then again when she was ignored the first time.

You kept your head in your book, knowing she was desperate for attention.

“Lord almighty,” Madison groaned dramatically, sitting against the arm of the couch and then throwing herself back over your lap. Visibly irritated by the fact that you still handed looked up from your book she almost shouted; “Oh, how I wish someone would acknowledge my presence.”

You met at her eyes for a split second and returned them promptly to the book.

“That’s it,” she muttered. Madison gripped the book from your hand and threw it across the room. You clenched your hands into fists, doing your best to maintain your calm composure. That’s who you were in the coven. The calm one. “Look at me when I’m goddamn talking to you!”

Your eyes darted up to meet Madison’s steel glare. “What the fuck is the matter with you, Y/N?” she exclaimed.

You genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t yell at me, Montgomery,” you replied, biting your tongue hard.

Madison had no patience for playing games when she found something serious. Which although wasn’t often, it was almost always about something as superficial as a wrong glance at dinner. “You’ve been giving Cordy the cold shoulder for the past three months. I want to know what’s going on.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Madison threw her hands up at you. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m kidding I don’t actually care.”

“Typical,” you muttered. You gave a wave of your hand and your book came flying from the other side of the room. Madison turned around in one swift movement and punched the book square, sending in hurtling to the ground.

“I’m being sarcastic, you dumb fucking bitch!” She yelled. If you weren’t so pissed right now you would probably have been impressed with her reflexes.

“What do you fucking want, Madison? You’ve getting on my tits every fucking day for the entire week,” you started yelling unintentionally. “So, what is it? What exactly do you want me to fucking say? Do you want me to fucking tell you- yet again- that Cordelia has a fucking boyfriend? You want me to reiterate it to you that I can’t fucking look at her in any other way?”

Madison smirked, knowing she was getting you exactly where she wanted you. “It’s not my fault that you couldn’t keep your shit together after you broke up with her. The least you could do is grow a pair of balls and be happy for her.”

You felt your face go red with anger. “Are you fucking insane?! Do you actually hear yourself right now? Madison, I told you fucking everything! I told you it was a mutal decision. I told you that it was the last fucking decision that I fucking wanted to make!” You screamed. The anger had been building up for weeks, and sweet jesus did the release feel good.

It was late at night and you knew that if any girls weren’t asleep they would be hearing exactly what you had to say. Cordelia wasn’t in the building after all. You could say anything you liked.

“I fucking love her, Madison. Every time I see her smile at that knock-off Lindsey Buckingham I want to rip his fucking face off! I know you can’t see that because the boy you brought back from the dead chose your best friend over you and then strangled you to death!”

That’s where your words got Madison.

Within a second, you found your hand striking your face hard.

Composure was the last thing on your mind now as your fist went straight for Madison’s nose. A crack and screamed followed as the blonde launched herself at you.

A scrap insued, knocking each other into furniture, punching, kicking. You fell to the ground as Madison’s boot was launched into your stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. You pushed yourself off the floor and kneed her in the crotch, sending her down to the ground with you on top of her. Your fists had found a mind of their own as they gave blows to her face, chest and stomach.

Your body was thrown from Madison’s, pinned to the wall by some invisible force. Madison crawled from the floor and punched you hard in the stomach. Then the face. You could feel blood dripping from your nose and mouth when the force dropped you on the ground. Madison sulked off, seemingly satisfied as you curled yourself into a ball.

Tears fell slowly from your eyes for the first time in months. You’d finally released every pent up piece of energy that you had held in and there was nothing left in your walls to keep you together. Madison had taken a physcial and verbal fist to everything keeping you together.

It was true; the decision to break up was mutal. Although, it seemed slightly more mutual for Cordelia. You whined too much, you thought, for her to be happy as your friend. Now, months since, you found yourself in a false mask of calmness and serenity about the situation.

The tears were almost temporary as you lay facing the ceiling. Blood dried on your cheeks making your skin feel tight but you didn’t care to move. You almost fell asleep until the front door unlocked at some ungodly hour in the morning. You didn’t care who it was nor did you care to move at this rate.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. The lines of blood on your face struck nasty images from long ago of blood on your limbs. You had recovered now. You were strong and you knew in your heart of hearts that you would never allow yourself to ever feel worthless again. You weren’t disposable. You are not disposable. You were a beautiful soul in a soaring tide, although struggling to see that.

Familiar footsteps clacked down the hall into the parlour. 

"Jesus Christ, Y/N?" Cordelia's voice sent a pang of dread coursing through your body.

"Leave me alone, Delia," you groaned, your body still ached for Madison's assault.

Cordelia fell to her knees beside you. "Oh, sweetheart what happened?" There was a pleading in her voice as she lifted the top half of your body onto her lap. She dabbed your blood with her sleeve.

You could smell the alcohol off her.

"Can you stand up for me?" She asked, helping you to your feet. She brought you to the kitchen and began tending to the mess that was your face. "Please, Y/N. Tell me what happened."

You brushed her off and tried to leave to go to your bedroom. With a flick of her wrist, Cordelia brought furniture to block the entrance.

"You're not leaving here until you tell me exactly what happened, young lady."

You chuckled meanly. "You're fucking kidding me." You turned to face her. "Madison beat the shit out of me."

Cordelia's face dropped in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm still trying to fucking figure that out!" You shouted. Cordelia's face flinched. 

There was a silence that you hadn't felt with her in a long time, shortly interupted by Zoe walking into the kitchen.

"Cordelia, go to bed," she said. She was going to bring the calm, apparently. "I'll take care of Y/N. I think I know what happened."

"Well, then could you please explain that to me?" Delia asked defensively. Zoe motioned for her to leave.

Zoe approached you slowly and took one look at your face. "Your nose is broken," she muttered. "I know a spell, it'll hurt like a bitch but it'll save the process."

You shrugged and let her do her thing, regretting it almost immeditely as your shrieked in pain.

"Cordelia still loves you, Y/N. I don't know how you haven't seen that yet," she told you, pressing a wet towel to your nose.

"She sure as hell has a weird way of showing it," you replied. All the talk about Cordelia for the first time in months was hitting you like a truck. You dealt with things by ignoring it and although it probably wasn't efficient. It still worked.

Zoe glared at you. "She broke up with Sylvester. I can sense it," she told you. "She misses you more than anything in the world."

Tears threatened to make themselves known once more. "I can't keep doing this, Zoe. I can't keep thinking there's another chance when there's just not."

Zoe tugged you into a warm hug. "Please talk to her, Y/N. Maybe it'll do more good than not."

You nodded in agreement and heaved yourself up the stairs. Cordelia's bedroom door faced you as you mustered up the courage to knock. You could almost hear the echos of memories you shared in her room.

"Police Officer knock," the girls often joked that you had. The door opened itself and you walked in.

"Cordelia?" You spoke, glancing around her room. You could see her outline laying across the bed, a glass of scotch in hand.

Cordelia poked her head up as you walked to the bed. She had clearly been crying.

"I'm sorry I yelled, Delia," you said softly. Her reached under yours and the pain hit you hard.

"It's okay, Y/N. But can you please just be honest with me? What on Earth happened down there?" 

Tears ran down both of your faces as you explained everything. Every word of your altercation with Madison, everything that happened, everything that you had felt over the past few months. Cordelia pressed her forehead against yours and you cried harder. How could her lips be so close yet so far away?

"Why have you been drinking lately? You barely touched it before?" You asked innocently. Cordelia pursed her lips.

"I missed that warmth," she choked. "I missed that warmth that I only ever felt when I was with you."

Her words shot daggers of guilt through you.

"No matter what I tried, no drink could ever match the feeling of being drunk in love with you," she sighed. "Time was taking its sweet time erasing you, so I thought I could do it myself. The drinks. The power. The men. Nothing got close to you."

You placed your hand over hers and squeezed it. "This is so, so stupid, Delia."

The Supreme nodded. "I know. All I ever wanted was a happy ending. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to marry you and adopt a child. I don't even know why I'm saying that I did want that. I do want that."

You dropped your head back. "Cordelia, I would give anything to call myself yours again but I cannot go through the heartbreak of losing you again."

Cordelia paused, you saw the reflection of your hurt in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I knew you didn't want it. I didn't want it. I just thought I was doing the best for you."

"This entire time I've felt like an open wound, Delia."

There was another silence.

"Y/N, what would I need to prove to you for another chance? One more shot to make this work. I want that chance to grow old with you," she said. The Supreme was begging for you at this point.

"Cordelia, I want you to understand that if it doesn't work out this time then I'm done."

Cordelia nodded solemly, her whiskey brown eyes darted to your lips. "Can I?"

You pressed your lips to hers before she could finish speaking, your soul ravaging for that piece of Cordelia that you had hungered for.

You found it in her lips. Finding yourselves giggling. Tears of relief, joy, happiness fell onto each other's skin like drops of nectar from the Gods. All was right when you were with her.

Warm lips, warm skin. Your hands weren't cold when you were with her. 

Your lips danced together in rings of bliss as she enloped into you, it was like a battle of nature.

Cordelia broke away, her body shifting slightly under yours as her eyes sobered.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask. Even placing your cheek on her hand gave you relief.

"I don't want to wait anymore," she whispered. She breathed in sharply as she motioned for you to get off her. You complied and sat on the bed, watch as she walked over to the dresser and pull something out of a box at the bottom of a pile of paperwork.

You grinned, tears flowing down as she presented you with what she'd dug out.

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice hopeful. You clasped your hand to your mouth and nodded hard.

The next morning at breakfast, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to Madison. 

Not after what she did.

At least, not until you noticed her smirking in victory at the sight of the engagment ring on your finger.

taglist: @sarahp-stan @jumpoffabridge-t @sarahpaulsonsoftie @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia @delias-bitch-craft @creepingwolfberry​ @thesapphictimelady​

[deafwestnewsies]

there will always be someone to your rescue

Sarah Jacobs will stop at nothing to find her brother. 

davey x jack, sarah x kath

read it on my ao3! 

read part one (and from his lips came forth the world) here!

read part two (and oh, don’t you want to get better) here!

“What the fuck!” the girl barked, before slamming her fist down on the computer’s keyboard. Illuminated only by the light of her screen, the bags under her eyes became more prominent with every passing second. Typing away furiously, trying (and failing) another safety measure, she unconsciously began chewing on the ends of her hair. Another girl, more fair, more well-rested, slowly approached the working woman. 

“Darling, I know this is difficult-”

“He’s missing, Kath. No one has seen him in days.” Sarah jerked her shoulder out of Katherine’s tender touch, the other girl backing away with practiced patience. She flicked on the overhead light, exposing the forgotten cups of coffee, the leftover crusts of a sandwich Kath didn't even remember making, to the 3am world. 

It began with the phone call, the one Sarah made after her brother never returned home from what was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill job. Davey disappeared into the night and never came home again, causing Sarah to spiral into a cycle of worry and anger, with a hint of secrecy. Lying to her parents about where he was. Calling him, day and night. Trying to reactivate the tracker inside of his suit, the one that randomly sputtered out near the apartment village on campus. Sarah spent her days stalking the outside of that building, anxiously looking for her brother in every face that passed. 

“Please come to bed,” Katherine pleaded with her. “He is smart, and he is alive. And he will stay that way when you wake up, I swear. How can you help him when you’re half-dead yourself?” 

Sarah turned in her chair, the days of exhaustion clear on her face. Standing without warning, she crumpled into Kath’s arms, body wracked with sobs that couldn’t produce tears. “I hate him,” she whimpered. “Where did he go?” 

Katherine pet the top of her girlfriend’s head, feeling just as useless as before. “He’ll come home soon. He’s Davey.” 

&&&

 “What the fuck?” Race asked incredulously before slapping Davey across the face. “First, you go around robbing people. Second, you try to kill my boy, multiple times. Third, we take you in because we are clearly superior and stronger than you,” Davey’s jaw clenched in anger, an angry red handprint already forming on his cheek, “Fourth, you break a window in an apartment we lease, and fifth, you try to kill Jack and set half of Kohler park on fire. I liked it there, you asshole!” 

Jack did nothing but stand by, his body language steeped in anger. He wouldn’t protect David, not after what he had done, the lies that he had told him straight to his face. “I could do anything for you, too.” The words echoed in his head, louder than the blood pounding in his ears, causing him to blush furiously. He was so embarrassed. Jack had a duty to protect this city and the people he loved, and he let himself get distracted by a boy? A supervillain boy? It was enough to retire altogether. 

“Race,” Spot came up quietly behind the (still yelling) boy. “It’s 3am. We’s got neighbors.” Race angrily shook Spot’s hand off of his shoulder, his pent up rage redirecting itself. 

“We should kill you.” Race finalized, causing Jack to react for the first time.

“We aren’t killing him,” he said quietly. “We’re dealing with him in the morning. I’m-” Jack struggled to find the words as he locked eyes with David. He was silently pleading. “I’m going to bed.” Turning towards his bedroom, his final words followed him down the hall. “He sleeps on the couch tonight.” Pathetic. 

&&&

“Wake up-” Sarah felt hands shaking her awake. “Wake up, darling. You’ve gotta hear this!” She sat up, confused, just to have a computer screen shoved in her face, the unnatural light blinding her. “I was reading the paper and look!” 

Blinking through the pain, Sarah slowly read the headline of the article- Fire Set Late Last Night at Kohler Park, Source Unconfirmed. “Was anyone hurt?” She asked, the fog slowly clearing. Katherine, not answering, clicked to a different tab, revealing a police report. “How did you get th-?”

“Don’t question my methods, just read.” Robbery occurring at 52nd and West, unidentified white man, approximately 6’2, medium build. Witnesses saw a ‘bright light’ that appeared to be moving from one place to another that followed the culprit. $17,000 stolen, exactly. “And isn’t that how much Davey needed for tuition?” Katherine asked, practically bouncing off of her side of the bed. 

“Zine behsechel,” Sarah muttered under her breath. “Once I know he isn’t dead, I’m going to murder him.” 

&&&

Davey couldn’t stop counting the ceiling tiles. There were forty-nine in the living room, and thirteen that he could see in the kitchen. Round and round he went, the numbers always remaining the same, the only constant that was left in his life. 

He was in deep shit. There was no better way of saying it. 

The money had flown away as if by magic, all seventeen thousand that he had taken from that corner bank, the memory of bills slipping through his fingers stinging more than it should. The light of the fire still shone behind his eyes, the image of a lightning bolt, his lighting bolt, splitting a tree down the middle. His powers had grown in that moment and he felt it down at his core. Blinding light filling his lungs and carrying him across vast distances, Davey had felt faster than ever before. It was fueled by fear, however, and anger. He had just gotten so furious, so horribly angry at the world, the life he was meant to lead, that everything spiraled out of hand until it was all gone. Until there was only Jack. 

Pathetic. He was so pathetic! In his most vulnerable state he had just outed himself like that, his absolute pea brain thinking that that moment was a good time to tell Jack how he felt. Good, righteous Jack, Jack who had never done anything with a hint of malice in his life, Jack who had given him ten thousand second chances, Jack. How could he resist him? Sure, he had been their ‘prisoner,’ but they poked fun at him, let Davey in on their inside jokes, helped him muddle through a midterm. He felt whole again, something he hadn’t had for a long time. And now here he was, lying on a grimy sofa, split again into a million pieces. 

“Zine behsechel!” His mother’s favorite swear, and saying it out loud made him feel okay again, if only for a second. 

&&&

Sarah stared at the hundred dollar bill caught underneath her foot, halfway burnt to a crisp. The park was taped off, policemen roaming the area, and Katherine and Sarah stood in the corner. Katherine had flashed her student reporter badge claiming she was with The World, and as an officer asked to see it a little closer, Kath thanked him loudly and pulled Sarah under the caution tape with her. They now stood still, clutching their hands together tightly, unable to tear their eyes away from the wreckage.

This was more than a fire by a long shot. One tree lie on its side, split clean in half, the scorch marks still smouldering slightly, and Sarah couldn’t stop imagining her dear baby brother in the middle of all of this. Davey, who cared so much about their family, Davey, who sat with Les as he cried over math homework and secretly paid the bills when their parents couldn’t. He was just a little kid in her heart, but he was forced to grow up so fast. 

“I can’t believe he’s so… strong,” Kath whispered to her. “Where did he get all of this power?” 

“He’s always been able to do this,” Sarah said, the pain clear in her voice. “He’s been holding himself back.” 

Before Katherine could respond, a police scanner lit up behind them. “Sargent? We found a GPS device of some sort. We’re sending it your way.” 

&&&

Jack set a mug of coffee between them. “Drink it.” He demanded, the first words he had spoken all day. David carefully picked it up, surreptitiously smelling the drink. “It’s not poisoned, David. Just drink it.” His voice was tired. Jack was tired. 

“Can we talk about-”

“No.” Jack cut him off. “We’ll talk about that when I’m ready.” 

David took a sip. “‘S good.”

Jack nodded, already getting up. “It’s infused with rosewater.” 

&&&

“If I’m right, which I am, this will lead us to where he’s been the whole time,” Sarah crowed triumphantly. “Whoever disabled this was good, but I’m better and I-” she popped a panel out, “have all of the answers.” With a second of shaking, a small end ejected itself, and she plugged it into her computer. 

Getting the GPS back had been one hell of a ride. Katherine had a small notebook on hand, so she began asking questions to the nearest detective about ‘citizen concern’ and ‘exactly what action they were taking to catch the person who had done such a dastardly thing,’ while Sarah eyeballed the evidence table behind him. After three minutes of Katherine making questions up on the spot (“Always the mark of a good reporter, Sarah.”) they watched another man lumber by, dropping the GPS Sarah had so carefully handcrafted on the table. She winced at the rattle of parts, but gently touched Katherine on the arm and said she was using the restroom, only to slide past the table and pick up her creation. Minutes later Katherine had met her in the car, wrinkling her nose and tearing up the police officer’s number, which he had given to her “in case she needs to know anything else.” 

Now peering over her shoulder, Katherine scoffed. “That’s the same apartment building. That doesn’t help.” 

“Maybe so, but I am smarter than that.” Sarah stopped for a moment, turning to face her girlfriend with feigned shock. “You know I am smarter than that, right dear?” She kissed her quick, turning back to her computer. “I could track his footsteps, too. That way, if I were his eyes on a job, I could keep him hidden. But right now, that tells us exactly which apartment he walked up to.” She banged on her keyboard some more until she had an address.

Katherine was already grabbing their jackets as Sarah swept out of the doorway.

&&&

Race was pleading with David, which was quite the feat. “C’mon. I know we’re like, fighting over whatever right now, but pleeease play along.” David sat stone-faced, holding the script to the Merry Wives of Windsor, refusing to read lines with Race. “I’m begging you. We start tech week tomorrow, and I’m not even half memorized-”

“I don’t know what a tech week is,” the disgust evident in David’s voice, “but I can’t exactly turn the pages with these on.” He held up his hands, still bound by the specialized handcuffs. 

“Sure you can! Just kinda,” Race struggled to flip the pages with his wrists touching, “and then a little bit of,” adjusted the script in his lap, “and bam! Easy!” 

Rolling his eyes, Davey moved his legs apart and let the script fall to the ground. “Oops,” he said plaintively. A knock at the door saved them both from sparking another argument, and instead slapped Davey on the top of his head with his script. It reminded him of messing around with Les, in a way. Goddamnit, I almost killed his best friend and they’re still nice to me!

David was not prepared for Race to fall to the ground holding a bloody nose as soon as he opened the door. Sarah Jacobs stood on the other side, eyes blazing, and shouting, “Give me back my brother, you dipshit!” 

i just really wanted an excuse for katherine to call sarah 'darling' so i wrote this anyways this series is getting really dark and i don't think i can promise a happy ending just yet.

[spaceskam]

and you will remove the space

Summary: months after the season one finale, michael and alex finally get back together

ao3

“Happy birthday to you!”

The whole room cheered for the Evans’ twins, each and every person somewhere on the drunken spectrum.  Alex had a little more than most due to the fact he was forced to attend.  Isobel threw a joint birthday party every year to keep up appearances and, since they’d just gotten Max back a week prior, this one had a required attendance.  That is unless you’d prefer to be receiving end of Isobel’s wrath for the next year.  Alex was already pretty high on her shit list after she had been informed on his history with Michael, so he wasn’t about to make it worse.

Originally, Alex had felt it was a little unfair.  It was technically Michael’s birthday too and, even though he understood why they couldn’t publically include him, it felt wrong.  But Michael had assured him that he didn’t like celebrating his birthday anyway, and he had sung the loudest with the biggest smile.  That might have more to do with the fact he’d had more to drink than Alex, though.

It had been a little over five months since Caulfield and since Michael had made the questionable decision to go to Maria.  Alex had been hurt at first, but quickly understood that Michael had acted out of despondent impulses.  That was proven by the fact they lasted a whopping five minutes.  The moment Max died, Michael exited himself out of the situation and Maria didn’t stop him.

Michael was basically functioning on negative emotions.  Sadness about his mother, panic about Max, straight up fear over his relationship with Alex.  He understood that Michael was struggling to even really look at him after seeing first hand how horrific the Manes family could actually be.  It took a couple weeks, but Alex had eventually been able to reassure him that they really were on the same side.  He genuinely was done walking away, done with letting things slip past, and had been working on proving to Michael just how serious he was.

The main thing that had helped Michael realize he wasn’t going anywhere had been just how hard Alex was working to help Max.  He had been dedicating his time to righting his father’s wrongs.  Project Shepard and saving Max Evans were his top priorities.  However, he and Michael didn’t start actually working together until Alex had offered to give him the files he’d found on every single one of the aliens that had been in Caulfield.

Turns out, they made a good team.  It wasn’t long before it became normal for Michael to pass out on the couch at his cabin, surrounded in pages of information.  Friendship felt like a breath of fresh air.  They were closer than ever, even though they were still skirting the topic of the exact nature of their relationship, and it was proving to be beneficial..

Together, they’d discovered that there was indeed an alternative to murder in order to get stronger.  Emotion.  Four months of Michael and Isobel strengthening their powers mixed with an hour of honing all the anger they had pent up‒which was a lot‒had successfully been enough to revive Max.  That had just left them with three extremely weak aliens.

For the first night, they’d insisted on staying together, meaning they’d all took shelter in Max’s house with Team Human played caregiver.  After a few nights, though, Max was eager for alone time with Liz and Michael just went home with Alex.  Though, instead of sleeping on the couch, he’d crashed in Alex’s bed when they had tried to watch a movie.  Neither of them had bothered to talk about it.

In hindsight, not saying anything had ended up being the best decision Alex had ever made.  With Max being alive, Alex really only had to focus on finding any other locations that might be holding aliens and that didn’t really require Michael’s assistance.  Yet, he still turned up most nights of the week out of habit.  They would talk about anything under the sun or watch movies‒last week they’d even started a TV series together.  Then, at the end of the night, they would both crawl into Alex’s bed.  They didn’t touch or anything, nor had they spoke about what exactly it all meant.  All Alex knew was that he was getting the best sleep he’d gotten in years and that, according to Liz, they were dating.

Still, even as Michael rested his head against Alex’s shoulder in public on his birthday, he wasn’t quite sure.  He hoped Liz was right, that they’d accidentally began dating.  He was just scared to ask‒he didn’t want to go back to sleeping alone.

But tonight he had enough alcohol in him to make him feel ballsy and Michael looking like he had not a care in the world fueled Alex even more.  Time to make a move.

“Dance with me.” Alex suddenly decided, tugging on Michael's sleeve.  Michael lifted his head and furrowed his eyebrows, but smiled nonetheless and reluctantly let Alex pull him to the dance floor.  

“Are you sure about this?” Michael asked.  Alex took another swig of his drink before abandoning it on a table for the night.  He pulled Michael closer.

“Absolutely not.  But Drunk Me is doing Sober Me a favor.” Alex insisted, slowly swaying to the shitty pop song that was too slow to dance to normally, but too fast to properly slow dance to.  “I’m tired of not knowing what we’re doing, aren’t you?” he hummed, not quite aware of just how bad he was slurring.  His head was spinning to the music, only settling when he rested his forehead on Michael’s.

“Yeah, I am.” Michael agreed, smiling easily  They both knew they were just waiting to see when the other was comfortable with the idea of them again.  And clearly, it only took a few drinks to make Alex admit that he was.

Alex moved to drape his arms around Michael’s neck.  The alien simply responded by gently tugging Alex’s hips into his own.  Everything was spinning except for Michael and his smile.  It was too easy to focus on just that and the different places they were touching.  Why hadn’t he made a move sooner?  How had he even functioned with Michael always being so close, but never knowing if he was allowed to touch him?  

There was a weird sort of pride to slow dancing with Michael Guerin.  They’d never done anything this public ever and, honestly, they might never again.  Alex would be alright with this being a stolen moment of public affection, a quiet way to confirm the suspicions of anyone who saw them together and confirm their own private queries.  Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he genuinely just wanted everyone to know.  That way he could only regret so much once he sobered up.

“Are people staring?” Alex asked as he closed his eyes.  As much as he loved Michael’s face, he really just wanted to focus on the fact their heads were touching and their hips were touching and, if he was lucky, their lips might touch too. Still, that could only last so long before he needed to look at him again to make sure that this was real.

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, intrigue dancing in his eyes.  It put Alex even more at ease.  Michael liked the decisions Alex was making.  He liked playing.  He liked *him.

“Kiss me.” Alex blurted, his stomach tying in a million excited knots.  They hadn’t kissed in what felt like years.  Hell, even when Alex had been off on the other side of the world, it didn’t feel like it’d been that long.  But seeing Michael all the time and not being able to act made time move impossibly slow.

“There’s a lot of people here. You might regret that when you’re sober.” Michael pointed out, but didn’t move away when Alex nudged his nose against his.

“I’ll deal with that later.  Kiss me.” Alex damn near begged as more thoughts on how he would convince him to come home with him later.  Alex didn’t want to give him up, not tonight.  If he could kiss him until morning without breathing, he would.

“Are you sure?” Michael asked once more, the whiskey on his breath mixing with Alex’s as he nodded his head.  Michael grinned, “Okay.”

The space between them was immediately closed as Alex desperately went for his lips.  Michael laughed, his hands sliding to Alex’s cheeks as they kissed in a far too public place.  Hopefully, when they sobered the next morning, they would appreciate their public reunion.

“Alright, we don’t wanna get kicked out, do we?” Michael said, pulling away just a little bit.  Alex rubbed his nose against the other man’s, his heart beating so loudly in his ears that he could hardly hear the music.

A smile began growing on Alex’s face as it really set in what had just happened and all he could do to keep from announcing his joy to the world was bury his face into Michael’s neck.  Michael held him closer and Alex once again wanted to just kiss him as if they were alone.  But they weren’t.

“Can we go?” Alex requested, lifting his head to give a sloppy kiss that missed his lips by a few centimeters.  Michael laughed.  God, that was a beautiful sound.

“You said you wanted to dance and the song hasn’t even ended.” Alex shrugged, giving him another kiss that actually made it to his lips.  Yet kisses didn’t feel like enough and Alex felt reckless enough to let his hands moved to slide down his back and to his ass.  Michael acted fast in gripping his wrists, bringing them back to a respectable place.  “Okay, where do you wanna go, Private?”

“Anywhere.  My cabin, your trailer, the middle of the fucking desert if it means getting you alone.” Alex hummed, watching as Michael’s gaze tilted upwards.  A massive grin took over his face, his tongue gliding across his bottom lip and making Alex even more than a little eager to make his suggestion happen.

Michael kissed his temple before grabbing Alex’s hand and leading the way.  People bumped into them, said things, whispered more; Alex couldn’t hear a damn thing.  All he could see, hear, feel was him.  This beautiful, beautiful man. *His man.

They made it to the hallway where Alex found himself pressed against the wall.  Michael grabbed his chin, sealing a kiss like they weren’t five feet away from a party.  Alex was certain he was more drunk on his lips than he did on any of the alcohol he had.

“Okay, so neither of us should drive.  I could… call a cab.  Or we could go find Isobel’s guest room.  She told me to stay there tonight if I got too wasted tonight anyways.  She won’t mind.” Michael whispered, trailing soft kisses across his jaw and down his neck.

“Look at you, knowing when you shouldn’t drive.” Alex giggled, pulling Michael closer and pressing his body against the alien’s.  Michael huffed a laugh but still kissed at his neck in a sloppy, careless way.  There was a chance they’d wake up with hickeys like a pair of teenagers and they’d regret that in the morning.  But right now it felt too good to care.

“So you wanna stay here?”

“I really wanna get you out of those clothes.”

“Here it is then.”

The halls filled with their laughter as they both stumbled their way towards the guest room.  Michael pushed him inside, closing the door behind him and locking.  Alex smiled, everything really setting in as Michael came and sat beside him on the bed.  Their thighs were touching, hands too.  It suddenly felt like they were teenagers again and Alex found himself scared to go in for a kiss, scared he didn’t want it anymore.

“Do you forgive me?  For what I did?” Michael asked, tilting his head to face Alex.  He had three heads.  Alex hoped focusing on the middle one was right.

“Do you forgive me?  For what my dad did?” Alex asked back.  They fell silent for a moment and it became a little apparent neither of them was getting laid tonight.  And that was perfectly fine as long as something good still came from the night.

“I never blamed you,” Michael whispered, his eyes turning to the ground.  Alex nudged his knee with his own, trying to quietly get him to look at him once again. It didn’t work.

“It felt like you did.  Felt like… felt like I was born to hurt you or something.” Alex admitted.  He hated thinking about it, but it was the truth.  Every time he thought about it, so much of the bad in Michael’s life was directly tied to his family.  His legacy.  Even though he rejected that legacy, it was still his to have.  Had his family not been capturing aliens, Michael would’ve had a mother.  He wouldn’t have been abused, he wouldn’t have been in foster homes, he would’ve been loved.

“No.  Alex, no,” Michael said, turning to face him.  Alex involuntarily leaned towards him and he wondered if maybe they were too wasted to have this conversation.  Probably.  But they were going to have it anyways.  “Alex, you’re my home.  You don’t… you’ve hurt me in the past, but we’re different now.  And I’ve hurt you too, but… We’re better.  I love you, Alex.  I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you too.” Alex murmured, his eyes pulling closed as he leaned in for a kiss.  He missed his lips.  Michael laughed.

“I think we should talk about this tomorrow.  Let’s go to sleep.” he said, his hand mindlessly rubbing Alex’s thigh.  “Can we cuddle?” Alcohol or not, a giggle bubbled out of Alex’s body as leaned against Michael.  The serious nature of their short-lived conversation was gone from his mind, replaced only with the idea of sleeping with Michael Guerin in his arms.

“Yeah.  Absolutely.”

Alex watched as Michael stripped down, not even trying to hide the fact he was watching.  Even if they forgot in the morning, currently, they had agreed they wanted to be together.  That meant he could stare all he wanted.  That was a nice thought.

“Alex, you gonna sleep fully clothed?  I know you don’t sleep like that at home.  We’ve been sharing a bed for a couple weeks, you know.” Michael pointed out, stepping towards the bed in nothing but a pair of boxers.  Alex considered death to make sure that would be the last thing he saw.  He leaned against the pillows.

“I like having you in my bed.” Alex grinned, sloppily trying to pry open the buttons of his shirt.  It proved to be much harder than he remembered.  Michael sat beside him, a dopey smile on his face as he began unbuttoning Alex’s shirt for him.  He let him easily.  “Why’d you keep coming back?  I was too scared to ask why you were staying because I didn’t want you to stop.” Ale admitted.

“I like being with you.  I got so used to sleeping with someone else in the house that when I tried to stay back at my trailer, I couldn’t sleep.  Then you didn’t seem to want me out of your bed… so I kept staying.  Now I don’t think I can go back to sleeping alone.” Michael admitted, tossing Alex’s shirt to the floor and beginning to unbutton his jeans.

“Me neither,” Alex admitted, reaching out to touch Michael’s arm.  “Stay forever.” Michael let out a childish giggle and Alex matched it easily, especially when he began pulling his jeans off.

“I can’t do that.  You’re gonna get sober and, like, throw me out or something.” Michael said, pulling Alex’s leg onto his lap and began to ever so carefully remove prosthetic.

Alex felt his mind settle and he suddenly felt a little more sober as he watched his idle fingers pull it off and place it on the ground.  He gulped hard as Michael gently slid off the sock and placed it on the bedside table.  When Michael pressed a gentle kiss right above where his leg now ended, Alex couldn’t breathe.

“Are you ready to go to bed?” Michael asked, giving a kind smile.

“Michael, I love you,” Alex said definitively, leaning forward and gently grabbing his chin.  “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Michael murmured, leaning forward and sealing their night with a kiss.

The two men crawled into bed, facing each other with little space between them.  Alex was tired, but he couldn’t seem to get rid of the giddy feeling he had.  Months of having Michael sleeping closer to him each night had finally granted him the moment of closing all the space between them.  When Michael pulled him close, Alex closed his eyes and finally let all the fatigue in his mind take over.  It was enough to make decades of space worth it.

He only hoped he would remember it all in the morning.

[softuris]

you’ve given me my wings, sweetheart || part 2

stanley uris x eddie kaspbrak || steddie

part1 + part2 + part3 + part4 + part5 + part6

masterlist... (-)

IT prompts... (-)

request here... (-)

“What’s that look for, love?”

Stanley blinked, and suddenly he was back to reality. Back in the hallway with Eddie. “Yeah— yeah I’m fine,” Stan swallowed.

Eddie smiled, despite their situation. “Just lay low. Follow my lead,” he whispered, grabbing Stan’s hand with haste. With his free hand, Stan pulled his hoodie’s hood up over his head just like Eddie’s. This felt like a start.

As they reached a fork in the hallway, Eddie halted, along with Stan. “Which way to the car, boss man?”

Stan blinked again, as if if he didn’t try to blink, he wouldn’t subconciously or his eyes would dry out. “It should be just through those doors,” he whispers, his voice a little louder than it should be. With Eddie’s hand still attached to his, he pulls forward, leading Eddie to the correct door quickly. “Do you have any idea where your room mate’s car is, Eddie?”

Eddie fumpled around behind him, trying to keep up with Stan’s large strides. His legs were significantly longer than Eddie’s. “In the parking garage center next door,” he pants out, gripping tighter to Stan’s hand for balance.

As they got closer to the door at the end of the hallway, a shiny red exit sign above it, Stan braced himself to slam into the door to open it. The door swung open from the sheer brute slam, and without a second to waste, they spotted Stan’s car: A 2001 Honda CR-V. Green. As they stood in the doorway, looking at the car, still catching their breath, they hear a shout from down hallway.

“I know I heard someone! C’mere you fucking sneak!”

There was pure anger in his voice, and the thought of what would happen if the room mate caught them sent shivers down Stan’s spine. Before he had time to fully think of what would happen, Eddie pulled Stan from the door, before shouting “Says the damn skank who’s done the real sneaking!”

Eddie is bouncing on his feet, pent up with energy. With admiring eyes, Stan can see just how serious Eddie feels about his duty. And then Eddie turns to Stan.

“Unlock the car! Fucking move!”

With shakey hands, Stan unlocks the door and flips the button to unlock Eddie’s. Crawling into the backseat, Eddie’s squeels set Stan’s, already pounding, heart on fire. “Alright, alright, alright! Uhh— uhh—“ Stan starts, looking out the front window for any sign of the angry room mate.

“Go go go!” Eddie hollers, rolling down the windows on the passengers side as Stan frantically turns the keys in the ignition and speeds backwards, hitting the car behind them.

With wide eyes and a gaping mouth, Eddie turns to Stan beside him. “Oh my god!” Eddie shouts, a hysterical smile spread across his face. “You just fucking backed into a car!”

Throwing his hands in the air, Stan looks at Eddie in horror. “Shit!” Stan shouts, before putting the car in Drive. “Take two!” The car lurches forward with everything the old car has got, and speeds down the deserted back street. With a beaming look on his face, Eddie chuckles out loud, still pent up with energy.

As they pass the room mate, Eddie flips him off throw the open window and sticks his tongue out childishly. “Asshole!” Eddie calls to him, with a big smile, before sitting back in his seat and rolling up the window.

Stan steers with unbent arms and a horrified face, as Eddie beside him is laughing. “That was great! Did you see the look on that fucker’s face?” Eddie asks, looking to his partner-in-crime beside him, noticing his obvious anxiety. “You ok there, Curly. You look like you might puke,” Eddie recoils in his seat, fearing the impending vomit.

Clearing his throat, Stan looks over at Eddie briefly. “I’m fine.”

His expression changes, Eddie’s, as he crosses his arms and slouches in his seat. “You know I didn’t always used to be this,,,” Eddie trailed off, trying to think of the right word.

“Careless?” Stan suggest.

“Spontaneous,” Eddie finishes for himself, shooting a glare to Stan.

Stan chuckles scornfully. “Well I sure hope you didn’t always think it was ok to hop into a

“I thought you wanted to help.”

Distraught, Stan runs a funger through his now messy curls, to which he cringes at. “This isn’t part of the plan,” he groans, mentally kicking himself for doing this.

“Plan? What plan?” Eddie asks.

“My plan. The plan,” Stan says, rather upset.

“You’re going to need to elaborate.”

“Where I’m going and what I’m doing in life. That plan.” Eddie blinks, perhaps waiting for more information. “Nevermind. Someone as ‘spontaneous’ as you would never understand,” Stan huffs, running another hand throw his hair out of habit.

“Tell me about it then.”

Stan tightens his grip on the steering wheel, before letting his tense facial features relax. “You really want to know?”

Eddie nods.

“I just,” Stan fidgets in his seat, though never taking his eyes off the road. “Since I was young I’ve had this plan for how I’d get through life. It gets super complex, but to boil it down I planned to go to community college my first two years out of highschool, then go to NYU to major in Business Management, then buy out a music supply company to make lots of money.”

Eddie smiles at him in the darkness of the car. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Yeah?” Stan smiles, looking to Eddie when they hit a red light.

Eddie nods. With admiring eyes, Stan gazes at Eddie in the passenger seat, who gazes back at him. “The light’s green, Curly,” Eddie smirks, looking at the light to signal to Stan the color really has changed.

“Right.”

As they roll down a busy road, in front of the parking complex, Eddie lifts his feet onto the dashboard. “So what does tonight have to do with that plan of yours?” he asks, folding his arms behind his head.

With a grunt, Stan reaches across the dashboard and pulls Eddie’s feet off. “None of it involves me going to jail, Eddie,” Stan says dryly.

Eddie chuckles. “We aren’t going to get caught.”

Stan pulls into the entrance of the parking garage, and pays for entry. “You want to finally tell me why we’re doing this?” Stan asks, a small smile on his face. Eddie notices his arms have finally relaxed, and his grip on the steering wheel is less intense than before.

“My room mate did something.”

From the passenger’s seat, Stan held eye contact with Eddie, briefly before he continues cruising through the parking garage. “Mind telling me what the something was?”

At first Eddie shakes his head slowly, and Stan thinks he might not give an answer.

“Henry has been sleeping with my boyfriend. Well— Ex-Boyfriend.”

Stan didn’t mean to slam on the breaks, but he did and, god damn it, he knew he’d regret that. Especially when Eddie shot him a look of anger. “Woah watch it!” he shouted, holding his head to protect himself from further brake checks.

“Sorry.”

Eddie rubs the back of his head.

“Is Henry your room mate?” Stan asked, trying to keep his cheeks from burning up, even though he knew they looked normal in the faint light from the parking garage lights. He made a right turn, to continue up the garage.

Eddie nodded, not given him a word response.

“Care to tell me anymore?” Stan asked, kicking himself for reacting the way he did. He didn’t want Eddie to feel uncomfortable. He thought Eddie was cute, that’s all, and to find out his boyfriend had cheated on him blew his mind. “Look, Eddie, you don’t have to tell me anymore. But just know that I’m glad to help your cause,” he smiled, letting the car fall into silence.

Eddie sighed loudly, almost giving in. “I walked in on them tonight,” he whispered. When Stan looked over Eddie was biting his lip, as if to hold back tears. “I mean I suspected it, I really did. I should’ve been smart enough to do something sooner.”

Stan nodded, to show he was listening. He turned around the next corner in the garage.

“I just opened the door, to ask Henry what he wanted to do for dinner, and then—“ With another sigh, Eddie’s voice became shaky. “So I did what I normally do: Run. I grabbed the car keys, and just ran.” With that, Eddie curled his feet up onto he seat of the car, and Stanley didn’t quite feel have the heart to tell him he shouldn’t put his feet on the upholstery.

Silence lingered, the only noise being sniffles coming from Eddie. “I— I’m really sorry that happened, Eddie,” Stan whispered, pausing in the road to place a comfortong hand on his shoulder. “That’s really fucked up.”

Eddie sniffled. “Yeah, well I’m gonna get him back.” Another sniffle. “He’ll pay,” Eddie all but growled.

Given a little bit more of a purpose, Stan continued up the parking garage until Eddie told him to park near a 2006 purple Dodge Camero. Stan got out of the driver’s side, and jogged around to the other side to get the door for Eddie. Trapsing toward the Camero, Stan scoffed. “That shit Ex of yours would drive a fuck-up car like this,” he spat, literally spitting on the windshield.

Chuckling, Eddie copied him, planting another loogie beside Stan’s. “And what’s that suppose to mean? That ‘he would?’” Eddie asked, a small smile spread across his face, his arms crossed in front of his chest, the sleeves of his windbreaker hanging at his wrists.

“It means that shitty people drive good-for-nothing, jerk off cars,” Stan explains, a smile forming on his own face.

With a weak slap on the back, Eddie giggles louder. “You drive a 2001 Honda CRV, and you think—“ he begins but is interupted by Stan.

“Ay ay, where’s that spray paint, huh?”

Eddie smiles wide. Swinging the backpack off his shoulders, he opens it up to pull out a can of spray paint. With a slight toss of his arm, Stan catches it, while Eddie takes the other can. “Here let me unlock it,” Eddie says, clicking the button on the set of stolen keys, which makes the Camero make a small chirp, signaling it’s been unlocked.

With suddenly shaky hands, Stan opens the passenger’s side door and climbs in, followed by Eddie, but from the back seat. “Care to do the honors?” Eddie asks, popping the cap off of his spray paint and shaking it thoroughly.

Stan smiles softly, and pushes the can towards Eddie. “I think you owe it to yourself to do the first of the spraying,” he whispers.

With grateful eyes, Eddie smiles back just as soft. Nodding he, turns to the back of the inside of the car, and squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the spray paint. With tense shoulders, he presses down on the can’s button and paint coats the back seats in an ugly thick green color.

Unable to help himself, Stan chuckles, before Eddie gives him a nudge to start painting as well. With his still shakey arms, Stan lifts the can, and shakes it thoroughly, just like Eddie did, and pushes down on the top button. A bright pink blasts out of the can and coats the passenger’s seat in a hot pink paint.

They spend the next 4 minutes, getting each crevace of the dashboard, and every fiber of the seats, before returning to the outside of the car. “Shit, it smells so— so— so shitty,” Eddie gags, pinching his nose shut.

“Come on. We’ve still got paint left, and the exterior of this car is looking super guilty,” Stan teases, beginning to coat the windshield of the car with his pink spray paint.

With adoring eyes, Eddie watched Stan. He watched as he shimmied around the car with focused eyes. He watched him get close to get an especially tricky crevace, and see how his tongue sticks out when he’s concentrated. He watched how small drips of paint littered his neat tucked in shirt, and couldn’t help but feel... grateful.

“Can I buy you a smoothie?”

Stan stopped working. “Can you what?”

“I want to buy you a smoothie, Stanley.”

Stan let his arms drop to his sides, the can still clenched in his hand. “Oh, yeah— I— yeah that would be cool,” he shrugged, lifting a single arm back up to cover his reddening cheeks.

With that, Eddie continued his assault on the car, even going as far as to write “suck it (oh wait you already did)” in sharpie on the wheels.

As they stood back and admired their work, Eddie leaned against Stan, wrapping his arms around Stan’s in a small hug. A feeling of angst starting swell in Stanley’s stomach as he remembered how angry Henry looked. He remembered how he had been thinking of what Henry would do if he had caught them. “Eddie, what makes you so sure Henry won’t, you know, call the police.”

Eddie leaned back off Stan. “Henry’s closeted. The biggest homophobe of NYU actually. If word got out, from a certain angry gay, A K A me,” Eddie continued. “That he was sleeping with man, he would probably die.”

Knowingly, Stan nodded.

Eddie’s touch lingered on Stan. They looked back at the ugly Camero, and soon pride swelled in the two of them. Though silence hung, it was comfortable.

“Now how bought that smoothie, right Curly?”

——————

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[regardstosoulandromance]

chapter eight:  i want to hold you when i’m not supposed to // in which vanessa goes on a three person date, rachel and jay have a chat, and quinn makes a mess of her office

read here on ao3 or below

“And action!” Quinn’s voice, raised and easily mistaken for yelling if you didn’t know that it was just how she was, echoed through set, through ear pieces and speakers. Rachel tapped the plastic ear piece, making sure it was in place. Even in the high energy, high intensity of shooting, Quinn’s voice in her ear was a comfort. It focused her, kept all the other rattling thoughts in her head at bay.

Vanessa was walking across the lawn with Catherine, Ben, and, surprisingly, Leo.

“Uhg this is the opposite of a pantie-dropping date,” Quinn had groaned when Vanessa had made her selection, “At least Ben will be there to make it hot.”

“May-December romances are in right now,” Rachel had tried to argue, “look at David Foster and Katherine McPhee, or Sarah Paulson and Taylor Holland. Who cares about dating your age?”

“Yeah, because that’s exactly what our viewers want to see,” Quinn said sarcastically, but there hadn’t been any bite to it, only a lingering gaze.

Now Rachel was standing in the muddy field behind the mansion, her sneakers getting soggier and soggier as she watched four horses be lead up to Vanessa and her dates. With Adam they’d borrowed a fake horse, filming him from the knees up as he pretended to ride. But for Vanessa they’d gotten real horses.

Rachel watched from the monitors as Vanessa easily flirted with Catherine, who was talking about horseback riding through the Italian countryside.

“But,” Catherine added with a seductive smile, “I’d love someone to share it with.”

Vanessa held her gaze for a long moment before reaching up to pretend fix Catherine’s completely straight collar, “That sounds enchanting.”

“Ooohh, this is good Goldie,” Quinn said through the earpiece.

“What about you? What do you like to do for fun?” Asked Catherine.

“Well, Mike was teaching me how to golf,” Vanessa said, “He’s actually a phenomenal golfer, if he didn’t skate I’d say he should go into golfing professionally.”

“Why is she talking about Mike?” Quinn demanded in Rachel’s ear, “It’s a total boner killer. A lady boner killer too, by the looks of Cindy Crawford.”

The rest of the day wasn’t much better. Vanessa would just begin to flirt with one of the contestants, then start talking about Mike again.

“Rachel! Get her on task! I want wet panties not… whatever this is.”

Rachel pulled out her earpiece as she pulled Vanessa aside. She’d just finished talking to Ben and was about to take a stroll with Leo along a very fake, very short fence that some poor PA had put up twenty minutes ago.

“Hey Vanessa, can I talk to you for a sec?” Rachel said, leading her away, “Listen, I know you and Mike have all this history but you need to stop bringing him up with your dates.”

A crease formed between Vanessa’s eyebrows, “I wasn’t- oh my gosh,” she pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Yeah, you have,” said Rachel.

“Oh shit, I didn’t even realize I was doing that!” Vanessa said, “We’ve just been together for so long, everything is… him.”

“Vanessa,” Rachel pulled her ever farther away from the crew, “Were you and Mike ever, you know, more than just skating partners? You can tell me.”

“No! No, of course not! Mike and I are just, uh, business partners.”

“Business partners?” Rachel asked, not believing her for a moment. Vanessa was flushed, but only slightly. Her voice was drifting from a conversational tone to one that Rachel mentally referred to as Vanessa’s interview voice.

She’d watched a handful of interviews, most of them leading up to the Olympics. Both Vanessa and Mike were cheerful and chatty, playing off each other easily, finishing each other’s sentences, and charming everyone they talked to. They were America’s Sweetheart Skaters.

Rachel’s even watched some of their skating videos as well. She’d gotten hooked, late one night, watching video after video of skating programs. And watching, she understood why their fans were convinced that they were sleeping together. When they skated, Vanessa and Mike were like two halves of the same soul. The were sensual, skating in a way that made Rachel feel like she was watching something forbidden.

“Uh yeah, Mike said it on accident once and it kinda stuck,” Vanessa gave an awkward laugh, Sorry I’m doing it again. But we’re strictly professional, like you and Quinn.”

Rachel snorted, “Yeah, just like Quinn and me,” she said as the image of Quinn moaning beneath her filled her mind. She pushed it away, burying it deep down where it wouldn’t distract her.

“Listen, Vanessa, when you’re on these dates, whoever you’re with is your boyfriend or girlfriend, okay?” Rachel said.

Vaness nodded, “Yeah, I get it. I’ll stop talking about Mike.”

“Excellent.”

…

“Well it’s good to see you and Quinn aren’t at each other's throats anymore,” Jay’s comment was casual enough, well meaning even, but as soon as he said it Rachel felt herself go cold.

“Oh my god,” Jay said as he turned to glance at Rachel. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into a quiet alcove.

“Oh my god it was you,” he said, “You gave Quinn the hickey that Chet’s been bitching about all day.”

Too late, Rachel recovered, “That’s ridiculous, Jay. I mean, Quinn and me?”

“Oh don’t try to lie, you looked pale as an untanned wifey when I mentioned you two being at each other’s throats and all I meant was you weren’t fighting anymore,” Jay said, crossing his arms, “So spill.”

“C’mon Jay, Quinn and I aren’t a thing,” Said Rachel, which wasn’t exactly a lie, it wasn’t as if they were dating.

Rachel tried not to think about what dating Quinn would even mean- waking up to her smile, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist at parties, getting to kiss her without worrying…

“So you’re telling me that Quinn’s vendetta against Kara isn’t because you kissed her? And Quinn just bails your ass out of everything because you’re a good producer? Or we could talk about how Quinn hates it when anyone gets too close to her but she’ll put her hands all over you without a second thought.”

Rachel didn’t reply. Jay was right, over the years Quinn grew to prioritize Rachel over more and more. She thought back to all the times Quinn had stood up for her or protected her, even the little things like telling people to stop gawking when Jeremy publicly dumped her, or letting her sleep in her bed afterwards.

She made a face, did Quinn love her? Twice she’d said it, once as a confused reply to Rachel and once in the control room, blood and passion dripping to the floor, but she never knew what that really meant. Did Quinn love her like as a friend? Or as something more?

“You don’t understand,” is what she settled on, pushing away the silly, mushy feeling she got in her chest when she thought about that possibility, “Quinn doesn’t- it’s not like that.”

“Yeah and keeping a clothes hanger in the closet doesn't make it straight,” Jay said rolling his eyes.

He turned to leave but Rachel grabbed his arm, “Jay, you won’t-“

“Tell anyone?” He sighed, “Of course not Rachel. That’s a decision for you and Quinn to make in your own time.”

…

She’d been staring at for the past several minutes, the envelope that way laying on her desk, taunting her. She already knew what was inside, but she was putting off looking as long as she could.

Early that morning, Quinn had installed a new wireless camera in her office, one above the door, looking out across the whole room. The feed ran to her computer, recording every movement for her to check later, in hopes of catching her letter writer.

But when she’d walked into her office that afternoon, the camera lay smashed on the floor. At first glance it looked as if it had fallen, but Quinn had stolen a power drill from the crew. Someone had broken it on purpose. Whoever was delivering her the letters, she surmised.

Quinn sighed. Picking up the offending envolve, she slid her knife-like letter opener along the edge, hooking it under the top flap, then dumped the contents onto her desk.

Another photo, and a note.

I don’t like being watched, the note said, hand written in a slanted scrawl that was nearly illegible, Now she’ll pay for your transgression.

Quinn’s hands shook as she turned over the photo. It was from their first day back on set, but from inside the office, at the moment when Rachel had surprised Quinn with a kiss. The black and white print was fisheyed, but would have been almost erotic if it wasn’t for the means it was obtained.

With a frustrated cry she shoved everything but her computer off her desk. Her hands curled around the stacks of files and spreadsheets sending them flying. Papers fluttered to the floor as framed photos fell with a clatter. The thrumming adrenaline of fear and anger filled her body, pumping through her veins.

Falling back into her chair, Quinn’s breathing came in ragged bursts that faded to a steady yet heavy rise and fall of her chest. There was a camera in the room. There was one recording her every movement at that moment.

Picking up the offending photo from the floor, Quinn held it up, walking around the office until she found the right angle. The camera had to be on her coffee table. She checked the coasters, then the flowers, before her eyes lit on a glass babble she didn’t remember purchasing.

Then, with all the pent up fury and frustration, she threw it to the ground, watching as it shattered with a satisfying crash. From the shards of glass Quinn picked up a tiny black object, the camera.

…

Vanessa leaned into Leo’s arms looped through hers as they walked by the pool. The sun had already set and everyone was inside, busying themselves by getting ready for the elimination ceremony.

“I’m so glad to have caught you off camera,” Leo said, patting Vanessa’s hand, “The constant surveillance would be unbearable if it wasn’t for you.”

Vanessa laughed, a lovely sound that echoed across the pool before she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it, “I’m sorry, that’s so kind of you, but that sounded like something the producers would feed you.”

Leo smiled, “I suppose it does. I am sincere though.”

Vanessa kissed his cheek.

“I believe you,” she said, “I suppose the cameras don’t feel any different to me than when I was training and competing. But you work in the financial industry right? I’m sure the surveillance is more subtle.”

“You’re right,” Leo said, “We’re always being watched, but here it’s just so much more in your face.”

“Every moment is a performance,” Vanessa said, “Whether we know it or not.”

“All the world’s a stage,” he agreed, “And al the men and women have an agenda.”

Vanessa stopped to look at him, “And what’s yours?”

“To woo a lovely young woman,” Leo replied, “And yours?”

Vanessa smiled, looking past him into the bushes where the cameraman was hiding, “To find love, of course.”

And then she kissed him.

…

Leaning back in her chair, Quinn rubbed her temples. Her office was still a mess, but the elimination ceremony was over, five idiots had gone home, and she decided she could deal with it in the morning.

Throwing back the end of her whiskey, Quinn shut her eyes, wishing to go back to the moment when she’d fallen asleep in Rachel’s bed. She wanted to reach across the pillow-length space and cup Rachel’s face in her hands, she wanted to breath in her warmth and watch her eyelids flutter shut. She wanted to know that they were safe, that she could always keep Rachel safe from the cruel world they’d help design.

Then, just as if the universe had read her thoughts, the door knob quietly turned and as the door opened so did Quinn’s eyes.

Rachel shut the door behind her, but stayed still in the shadow of the door. But even from the distance, Quinn could see the tear tracks on her face and her wild, fearful eyes. Quinn was out of her chair and across the room in a heartbeat, hesitating as soon as she reached Rachel, afraid to touch her and scare her off. Every horrible thought filled Quinn’s mind. Something had happened- someone had done something.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn said, she lifted a hand to slowly settle on Rachel’s arm

“I’m sorry,” Rachel breathed, not looking Quinn in the eyes.

“Rachel, you’re scaring me. What happened?” Quinn reached up with her other hand, cupping Rachel’s face. Rachel leaned into the touch, and finally looked up at her.

Rachel held her gaze for a moment before jerking forward to wrap her arms around Quinn, hiding her face in the crook of Quinn’s neck, and began to cry.

[smashbuddies]

Part Eighteen: Boss Battle

“So have you thought about my little proposal?”

Daniel’s eyes had to drag up from the floor to meet theirs. Of course he thought about it. He didn’t have any choice. But he knew they were going to be unhappy with his answer. So it clogged up in his throat, keeping him safe for just a moment longer.

They didn’t look amused. Fingers laced together on their desk, they raised a brow at him and said, “Well, Daniel?”

“I’m not giving you my show,” he said, slow and steady. God, it was like he was awaiting execution. He shouldn’t be feeling so weak. So powerless. “And that’s final.”

“Why, that’s quite the decision.”

Yeah, it sure fucking was. But he didn’t dare say that out loud. Not with that warning brimming in their eyes.

Take it back. Or else.

It only empowered him to take a stand. This was his show. They left it. They left him. And when everything seemed lost in the ashes, he found new ground to plant in. He did. Not them. They wouldn’t get the chance to burn it all again, not without a fight.

They took a deep breath and got to their feet. It was a slow walk around their desk to reach him, each step slow and calculated, heels clicking on the floor in a way that made him wince. When their hand touched his face, he flinched, not knowing what to expect. Gentleness certainly wasn’t on the list of possibilities. Or the sweep of their thumb across his cheek, almost tender and loving. It was like they were someone else. Someone from a long past dream.

“But don’t you still love me?” they asked softly as they leaned in closer. Their lips were parted, at if inviting him in for a kiss. It was like a scene from a movie.

A perfectly orchestrated scene. But they’d stolen this role from someone else. And all he could feel was bitterness.

“No,” he said in a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding. “I don’t.”

They looked devastated. “What?”

“How can I?” Slowly, he took a step back. The space between them grew cold. But he felt warm. Scorching, even. What was making him feel this way? “Back then, I did. I loved you more than anything. But… After all you’ve done, how can you expect me to keep those feelings?”

“Daniel, we can fix this,” they pleaded and grabbed hold of his hands. “It won’t take much, just give me the show and we can be together. Like you always wanted. I promise.”

He stared down at them impassively and wrenched himself out of their grasp. Then he leaned in close and said in a low tone, “No. It’ll never happen. You’ve hollowed me out twice now, and you’re so lucky I can’t even hate you. So either live with your mistakes, or leave. I’ve picked up the pieces of my life once already, don’t think I can’t do it again.”

There was only a moment where he could see that dark look they shot him. Their hand met his cheek with a harsh sting, and he saw nothing but black for the next few seconds.

“You listen to me, Nadiva,” they muttered, grabbing his tie and pulling him down to eye level before he could even blink away the stars in his vision. “I know every little thing about you, and I’ll make sure to break more than just your pathetic little heart. I’ll ruin you, I’ll ruin your fucking show, and most of all, I’ll ruin Snail. Don’t think I won’t find a way. That little ex of theirs isn’t too hard to find, you know.”

Mike? He couldn’t let that happen. Not for anything, his show wasn’t worth more than Snail.

But a thought hit him. Almost like a train, really. And it made him feel sick, absolutely vile, like everything he’d known was a lie.

“Mike was a real asshole. And whenever I did something he didn’t like, he’d get angry.”

Whenever he did something they didn’t like, they’d get angry. They controlled him. They switched back and forth between two different people. The person he used to love, and the one he was terrified of.

They were abusing him. Like Mike abused Snail. As ridiculous as it sounded, that’s what happened. But was it? Was he really sure? Maybe he just misunderstood things. 

Or maybe not.

“Think on it,” they finally said, after a long moment. Their hand went back to his cheek, not stopping even as he flinched. “In the meantime, we need to get this covered. We can’t have anyone seeing the bruise you’ll have.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes glued to the floor. “We sure can’t.”

“Hello, everyone,” he greeted once the cameras started rolling. Though for once, he didn’t use his cheery tone or his Host Smile. The storm of butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t let him. What was he doing? “Before I begin, I’d like to discuss something very important.”

A soft murmur went through the audience. Questions, confusion, curiosity.

“As you all know, someone very important has come back into my life,” he stated carefully. Script placed aside, he looked right into the camera and quickly thought through what he wanted to say. They were watching, and he couldn’t let them catch on too quick. “Without them, this show might not exist, you know.”

Heads nodded behind the bright lights. Everyone knew who he was talking about.

He bounced his leg underneath his desk. All his nervous energy began feeling too hot. “They’ve given me everything. My fame, my fans… And something a little extra.”

Abruptly, he stood, the sound of his chair rolling back almost deafening in the tense silence. Then he strolled to the front of his set, and pointed at the nearest camera. “You, come closer.”

Glancing at the screen, he kept his poise up until his face was perfectly in frame. With a snarl, he used his sleeve to wipe the heavy make-up off his cheek. And oh, the horrified gasp form his audience felt so vindicating.

“This is their latest gift,” he hissed, pointing to the disgustingly reddish-purple bruise. “But oh, maybe I should list off everything else they’ve given me too. Insomnia, anxiety, heartbreak, isolation. It goes on and on and on.”

“Sir,” the cameraman said in a soft whisper, “I’m getting orders to cut the feed.”

“Don’t,” he snapped, fists clenched at his side. “No one has any idea what they’ve done to me. But I’ll fucking tell you all! It’s a real story!”

He could see the lights of the other cameras turning off. But that didn’t matter. He just needed the one.

“I haven’t slept well in weeks,” he said. All the pent up energy made him pace back and forth, run his hands through his hair, gesture wildly as he talked. “Every single fucking day, they ask me to revise and rework scripts that are already good enough. They drag me to events, they make me say and do things I don’t want to, or else they’ll spill my deepest secrets. But guess what, fucker! You can’t do that if I tell the whole world!”

No one seemed to know what to do. The members of his audience went deathly quiet, eye firmly locked onto him.

“I used to be a slut!” It felt like a heavy weight was taken off of him. He might’ve just ruined his reputation, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care. “It’s real fucking easy to get into my pants, but you know what? I don’t give a single flying fuck who knows it!”

All his anger suddenly left him. cold emptiness took over as he thought about Snail. They probably hated him, and he knew that. But he still wished he could go back to that night and stay. To have a second chance and not ruin the greatest thing that had happened to him.

“Since now,” he whispered after a long moment, head hung, “I’m all alone. There’s no one left I can turn to. I burned all my bridges for them. And what do I have to show for it?”

“Daniel!”

Fear froze him in place. On the screen, he could see them stalking closer, more pissed than he’d ever seen them. To save face, he quickly cut to commercial, and steeled himself for what was about to happen. Sure enough, they grabbed his arm and gave a quick apology to the audience before dragging him off to deal with his outburst.

For the second time that day, Daniel sat at his desk and gave his usual greeting. Really, he was lucky to have a second chance. Sure, he’d had outbursts on his show before, but none like that. And after their talk with him, they gave him the opportunity to make up for it.

He was just stressed. Tired. Not quite there. And unfit to take care of his show, obviously. All he had to do was get through this episode, then he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

Things would get better.

Lies spilled from his mouth to ensure that. Oh, yes, he used make-up to create that fake bruise. Yes, he was just a little angry at them for making him do a little extra work. No, they never threatened to reveal any of his secrets. This was all orchestrated by him. An irrational plan, a temper-tantrum. He’d had his fair share of those before. Nothing new.

Right as he was about to actually get into his script, a voice stopped him. Too familiar, coming from stage left.

“Daniel?”

Slowly, he turned, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Snail. There they were, looking like they wanted to be anywhere else. An intern stood next to them- she probably led them there- before skittering off. They stepped forward, onto his set. A spotlight shone down on them, and they squinted while raising a hand up to block it from their eyes.

“We need to talk,” they said quietly, as if they didn’t want to be heard by the cameras. “Like, now.”

“I can’t,” he practically whimpered, sinking down just a bit. They were going to be so angry at him. He couldn’t do it again. “Just go, I’m done with you, there’s no talking, get off my fucking set already!”

They stared him down, unwavering. “The only way I’m leaving is if you come with me.”

A voice from stage right spoke up, making him flinch, “I think security might disagree.”

Never before had he seen such a hateful look on Snail’s face. Their hands balled up into fists as they shouted, “Shut the fuck up! I don’t want to hear shit from the bitch who hurt my boyfriend!”

“Petty insults, how cute,” they said, casually checking their nails. “And surely someone as slow as you could remember that your relationship ended, oh, about a month ago? It’s over, you’re old news. He doesn’t love you anymore.”

Snail even looked at him, desperate for him to deny it. But he couldn’t speak up. It was too much, they’d hurt him. They’d hurt Snail. Everything would go terribly if he intervened.

So he kept quiet.

“Oh, how sad.” They stepped onto the set, closer and closer, until they were right next to him, hands on his shoulder, nails digging in, a silent threat looming over him. “You aren’t winning him back. So save yourself the embarrassment and leave before Daniel calls security on you.”

He was so focused on not breaking down right then and there, he didn’t notice what had happened next until the audience let out a collective gasp. A rush of air, Snail’s sudden closeness, them on the floor with a nasty red mark on their face. It happened to quickly for him to process.

Snail let out a huff and pulled him to his feet. Wordlessly, they wiped off the redone make-up on his face. He turned his head to try and hide the mark, but it was too late. They’d already seen it. And so had everyone else.

Their fingers gingerly brushed against the bruise, too soft. He couldn’t meet their eyes. What were they even thinking? How could they be so gentle with him? Shouldn’t they be angry? Livid, even? He left them out of nowhere. He hurt them more than either of them ever thought he would.

But that didn’t seem to matter to them. They took his hand anyway and started to lead him along with a soft “come on”.

Although there was one last bridge to cross.

“If you go,” they said, grabbing his attention as they shakily got to their feet. “I’ll make sure your show dies right here and now. You’ll never air again, you fucking hear me!? I’ll hunt you down wherever you fucking go and ruin you!”

His hand tightened around Snail’s. Any other time, he felt like he would’ve caved. But he couldn’t now. Not with everything out in the open. Not with Snail there next to him.

“Then start hunting,” he said, as he turned away. “Because this show is mine, and you’ll have to rip it from my cold, dead hands.”

Before they could get another word in, Snail pulled him along, brushing past anyone who tried to stop them or ask questions. Their thumb swept across the back of his hand while they asked, “My place, or yours?”

“Yours,” he whispered, voice now shaky as all confidence left him. “Please?”

“Sure thing.”

“My apartment’s a mess,” Snail warned, giving him a side-glance as they unlocked the door. “So, uh… Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. A messy apartment wouldn’t be that bad. Not after what he’d already been through. “I mean, I’ve seen worse.”

One look inside made him out to be a liar. It was a disaster. Like the first time he’d walked in, only a thousand times worse. What happened? Why did they let it get this far? Was it because of him?

“Make yourself at home,” they said with a gentle nudge against his back. “I’m gonna go get dinner for us. Lock the door and stay safe, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Numb. It took up all that time to find the world for how he felt, but that was it. Had this day really happened? Was he just dreaming? Or more accurately, having a nightmare? What was going on?

He didn’t know. But once they took for the stairs, he shut the door behind himself and triple checked the lock. Just in case. As much as he wanted to get comfortable, he just couldn’t. So he had to at least make himself useful.

The trash that littered the place seemed like a good start. He easily found the garbage bags and got to work, willing himself to focus on the task. Soda cans, chip bags- each thing he picked up made his skin crawl. Especially when there were bugs on them.

And to make matters worse, there were even bits of broken glass on the floor, right next to a shelf. He carefully picked up the larger chunks with a heavy sigh. As soon as they got back, he’d tell them off for this. There were even shard on the shelf, around a knocked over picture frame. Clearly, it had to go. So he picked it up, and tossed it in with the rest of the trash.

But squashed underneath of it were two shards of a photo. He picked up both pieces and took a look. On one half, a smiling Snail. On the other half him. Just as happy, if a bit flustered.

A memory flooded back to him.

“Hey, Daniel, let’s take a picture!”

“Why? This isn’t a special occasion, you know.”

“I think it’s special because I get to be with you.”

“...You’re such a sap. Alright, fine. Let me go get dressed, then.”

“Nope! I want a picture of you in your cute pajamas!”

“Oh my god… You better not show this to anyone.”

“I won’t!”

A teardrop fell onto the picture. Then another. And three more. The harder Daniel tried to hold them back, the more they came out.

Eventually, he broke. With a sob, he held the picture close to his chest and just let himself cry. It hurt as much as it felt cathartic. He couldn’t have that again. No, he’d ruined it. He was lucky Snail saved him, even gave a damn enough to feel pity for him. After this, he’d have to go again. But he didn’t want to, why couldn’t he just stay? He’d give up everything he had if it meant they’d take him back. But that wouldn’t be an option.

He had to live with his mistakes.

“Daniel, shit, what’s wrong?”

They had barely gotten a hand on his shoulder when he turned and held onto them like they’d disappear. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, tears still rolling down his face and dropping onto their shirt. “I’m so fucking sorry, Snail. I just left you and I shouldn’t have let them convince me to, I should’ve stayed, and I’m so sorry. Please, don’t hate me, I still love you more than anything, I just…”

No more words. Only sobs, broken apologies, whimpers, pathetic cries. Snail rubbed his back in soothing circles, but it was still a good ten minutes before he even calmed down the slightest bit.

“Let’s sit down,” they said as they guided him to the couch. They handed him a sandwich from the bag in their hands. “And once you’re ready, you can tell me all about them.”

With a sniffle, he nodded and dug in, not even caring of the sandwich was from some garbage fast food place. Had he even eaten that day? Or the day before? He couldn't remember, but the answer was most likely no.

He got about halfway through before he felt full. And since Snail didn’t seem to be eating, he figured right then would be a good time to start opening up.

“So, I figured you saw my… Episode earlier,” he started off with a hesitant glance over at them.

“Yeah,” they sighed out. For a quick second, they focused on his bruise. “I did.”

“Well, there’s not much more for me to say,” he mumbled as he set his sandwich aside. “When they helped me get my start, I fell for them. And they used it. Promised me a bright future, and worked me half to death. Stressed me out, made me angry for viewership, isolated me from everyone else. Kinda like what they did to me this past month. And when I denied them full control over my show, they left. Like I didn’t even matter to them.”

Snail’s hand found his. “Fucking hell…”

“This time,” he continued and brought his hand up to his face, “they tried to pull the ‘don't you love me’ card to get my show. And it didn’t work. So they…”

“No need to explain,” they said softly. “I mean… They did that and you still stood up to them? Holy shit, Daniel, you have no fucking idea how brave that is.”

He almost wanted to laugh at that. Him? Brave? No. He was just a fucking idiot who couldn’t stop making mistakes. Speaking of…

“What now?” he asked after a long moment. “Are we… ? Officially over now?”

They looked over at him, obviously surprised. Then they shrugged. “I mean, we never actually ended it, so… No. I don’t think so.”

“But I left you,” he mumbled, now turned away. He felt sick. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I-”

“Hey,” they said softly, one hand under his chin to make him look them in the eye. “You owed me one anyway. And yeah, it fucking hurt, but like… Knowing everything now, I can’t really blame you.”

“I can,” he sighed out. His shoulders shook with the sob he tried to hold back. Now was not the time to break down again. So he held their hand tight. “And I swear, I’m going to make it up to you. But… Fuck, it’s going to have to be after this fight for my show.”

“That’s okay,” they said, with a soft kiss to his face. “You’ve got plenty of time to make it up to me, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in a long while, he smiled. Even if it was through a stream of tears. “And I’m not either. I promise.”

[thestorytellerofkpop]

Jimin Is Away; Autumn, Chapter Eleven

Summary: Jimin, despite everything the two of you have been through, is slowly fading from your life. But when you find someone to fill the void, Jimin starts to act strange

Word Count: 2003

Previous Chapter

Y/N yawned as she walked down the long hallway to her apartment, shivering and cuddling deeper into the sweatshirt she had stolen from Hoseok that night. She approached the door with bleary eyes, sighing when the door opened without force. Jimin left the door unlocked, again. She hurried into the warmth and shut the door behind her, kicking off her boots with shivering limbs.

“Jimin?” she called softly, turning around to observe the surroundings of the apartment. She noticed the television first, shimmering in the dark and playing “First Wives Club” on the screen. Then, on the old couch laid Jimin, his hands were crossed on top of his chest while he stared at her from his relaxed position.

“It’s midnight Y/N.” he said knowingly, and Y/N could see his eyebrow pull up into a suggestive stare. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s not what you think, I honestly fell asleep,” she walked to him. “Now budge up and make room.” She tapped his legs. Instead of sitting up, Jimin just lifted his legs into the air, grinning at Y/N cheekily. She huffed and sat down, allowing his legs to fall into her lap. The two of them sat in silence for a bit, watching Goldie Hawn have her mental breakdown scene before Y/N spoke up first.

“So, what’s been bothering you?”

Jimin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He pursed his lips, grabbing one of Y/N’s hands. She watched him interlace their fingers and run his thumb across her palm, biting his lip in thought. He started to play with her fingers when he answered back.

“I just don’t want to talk to some people.” His voice was soft and vulnerable and Y/N couldn’t help but grab his hand with concern in her eyes.

“Do I have to beat someone up?” she said it teasingly, but Jimin knew she was as serious as a heart attack.

“No Y/N…Wheein is just kinda being an ass lately. That’s all.” He mumbled. Y/N felt her heart twinge in anger, her brows furrowing.

“Well, what happened?”

“Just some bullshit argument we got into, I don’t know, maybe I’m the one that’s at fault and I’m just being bitchy or something?” his eyes looked up at her softly, the innocence and struggle inside them showed Y/N that Jimin couldn’t have been at fault. She sighed, her heart filling with sympathy for her best friend.

“I mean, you seem fine, what did she say?”

“I can show you the chat, I honestly don’t want to have to read it out…” he picked up his phone from the side table behind him, unlocking it and pulling up the conversation

Wheein: Heyyy Jimin~

Jimin: Hey what’s up?

Wheein: Nothing much, you?

Jimin: Nothing much…

Wheein: So, when are you coming over?

Jimin: I don’t know if I can tonight, I got a lot of hw to do

Wheein: You can just do it here!

Jimin: It’s kind of like project stuff I have to do with a hyung. I really don’t think I can come…

Wheein: Oh, c’mon Jimin we’ve had this planned all week

Jimin: I know, I’m sorry;

Wheein: Are you really not going to come over? I had a whole night planned for us!

Jimin: I don’t think I can

Wheein: Holy shit are you serious?! Wtf Jimin?!

Jimin: Look, I’m sorry okay, I told you when we planned this it might not work out

Wheein: I didn’t think you were serious

Jimin: Well, I was

Wheein: I really can’t believe you

Jimin: I think I’m going to go

Wheein: Sure, whatever

Y/N handed Jimin his phone back when she was done, mulling over the conversation Jimin had had yesterday.

“I don’t know, do you think I was out of line?” Jimin spoke up, biting his lips nervously at Y/N’s answer.

“Not really…you did make plans, but you said it might not work out because of the project. If anything, she was the one being a bitch, not you.” She said honestly and Jimin chuckled.

“Yeah? I just didn’t want to go over yesterday. Sometimes it’s just hard being there.” He admitted.

“Why is it hard?” Jimin could tell she was confused, so he sighed, looking at his fingers play with hers as he talked.

“I just feel like I’m expected to act a certain way when I’m there and I hate that. The problems solved though because I can just pretend I’m busy.” Y/N stared at Jimin pointedly and he gulped when he saw her expression.”

“That’s not solving the problem though, you need to talk with her and tell her why you feel like that.” She explained, sending him a small smile, “Just know I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here to talk to.” He smiled back and they were thrusted into silence once again. Y/N allowed Jimin to continue playing with her hand while se aimlessly watched the movie in front of her.

“Have you thought about what you want to do after college?” Jimin asked suddenly, making Y/N jump.

“I-I’m not sure yet…you?”

“I think I want to just really get out of here and go someplace totally new you know?” Jimin’s eyes shined with stars and Y/N smiled softly at his dreamy expression.

“I can understand that. You’ve always talked about going to a bigger city and starting your dancing career.” Y/N chuckled and Jimin nodded eagerly.

“You know me so well~ But I’d probably stay wherever I am for a while though. I don’t know, but planning so far out can be silly.”

“So much could change” Y/N pointed out, and Jimin hummed in agreement.

“And I don’t see myself settling down any time soon. Like, I honestly can’t see myself even having kids.” Jimin admitted and Y/N bit her lip.

“Why do you say that?”

“I just don’t see myself wanting a family, I just want to able to take life as it comes.” He spoke excitedly and Y/N forced a smile.

“Yeah, that’s a really good philosophy for you Jimin.” She forced a chuckle.

“Hopefully it works out. You’re not going to settle down straight out, are you?”

“I don’t think I’ll settle down straight away. Hoseok told me he wants to have a family though, so maybe it’ll happen once I get my career settled out?” Y/N felt Jimin grip her hand a little too tightly, looking down to find a scowl on his face.

“You’re too smart for that Y/N. You should travel and be free for a while. Learn some more, you have too much potential to just settle down with Hoseok after a few years of work.” Jimin let the pent-up anger he had lace into his words and Y/N pursed her lips.

“You’re not just saying that because you don’t like Hoseok, right?” she asked. Y/N knew Jimin wasn’t fond of her boyfriend, she could see it in the way he looked at him. However, Jimin tried to get along with him for her, so she couldn’t complain. Jimin huffed and forced a smile.

“No. Of course not. If you do decide to leave, and we end up together in the same city, we could still be roommates.” He laughed.

“Oh, the pain! No, I’d like that.” She poked her tongue out at him playfully and Jimin smiled.

“Thanks for letting me talk about that, whenever I talk about the future with Wheein she always gets so upset.” Jimin confessed.

“Why does she get upset?”

“I guess she doesn’t want me to go far away, but I guess she knows I’d leave without her.” He said sheepishly, rubbing his cold nose.

“You’d really leave her?” Y/N hadn’t meant for her voice to sound hopeful, but she seemed to be the only one who noticed it.

“Yeah, I guess later, she’s going through a very tough time right now though. She wants to be a more serious couple.” Y/N paused for a moment before speaking.

“What do you mean by more serious?” Jimin sighed, sitting up and moving closer to Y/N. His chest was flushed with her side, his hand gripping hers tightly. Her heart shouldn’t have picked up like the way it did, but she quickly pushed the feeling out of her mind.

“This is pretty personal, so don’t tell anyone, okay?” Jimin stared at her seriously, his gaze sharp.

 “I won’t, I promise.” Y/N nodded.

“Me and Wheein…haven’t had sex. I think she wanted to try last night while her roommate was out.” Jimin said softly. Y/N let out an ‘oh’ and broke Jimin’s gaze.

“Well…do you want to?” She asked, the hand that Jimin wasn’t gripping to death rubbing the back of her neck.

“No, I don’t think I’m ready for that with her at least. She’s tried to get me to a couple of times, but I managed to fend her off. It’s just really annoying to keep turning her down when she knows that I don’t want to do that.” Jimin confessed and Y/N felt a sudden urge to protect the guy sitting next to her.

“Just wait until you’re ready Jimin. It’s okay to not to want to have sex.”

“Sometimes I feel weird about it though; I feel like I should’ve done it by now.” Y/N noticed the blush rise in Jimin’s cheeks, so she squeezed his hand, giving him a small smile.

“You’re definitely not weird Jimin, it’s your life. You shouldn’t have to feel pressured to do something because everyone else around you have.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Jimin pauses, blushing softly, “H-Have you had sex yet?” he was biting his lips and avoiding her gaze and Y/N chuckled, squeezing his hand with a small smile on her face.

“No, I haven’t.” Y/N repressed a giggle when she saw Jimin’s shoulders relax, he was being cute.

“Then were in the same boat. Thanks for talking with me about it.” He smiled and Y/N gave him one in return.

“We can talk anytime Jimin.” She said reassuringly. Jimin smiled at her sheepishly.

“Sorry I stole so much of your time talking about random stuff. You’re probably so tired.” Jimin went back to playing with her fingers, his hair slightly falling into his eyes. Y/N sighed and brushed his hair aside, looking at him in the eyes.

“Its fine, really.” Her voice was soft and Jimin couldn’t help the appreciation that filled his eyes.

“I feel like we’re different now, but in a good way.” He smiled.

“I feel that way too.” Y/N nodded, running the tips of her fingers across Jimin’s cheek. “You’re such a good…” she paused trying to find the right word. “…friend.” Y/N sighed, avoiding Jimin’s gaze because of her lackluster word. There was so much she wanted to say, but with the pretenses of the relationships they were in, she was afraid of saying something that would be inappropriate. She watched Jimin’s smile fall, his hand dropping hers. Y/N suddenly felt colder than before, retracting her hand and shoving it into the pocket of her hoodie.

“And you are too Y/N.” he said stiffly, removing his legs from her lap and standing, “I should get to bed, I have work in the morning.” He moved away from her, walking down the hallway to his room. Y/N quickly jumped up, following him,

“Jimin!” she called. He turned around and his eyes widened in shock when Y/N suddenly enveloped him in a hug. Her arms were tight around his torso and Jimin hesitantly returned her affection.

“Y-Y/N?

“Jimin, you know I care for you so much right?” she mumbled softly.

“Yeah, of course.” He let go of her, looking down into her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“You deserve a better word than ‘friend’, Jimin…so much better.” Jimin felt his heart jump, suddenly his face felt way too warm and his hands felt way too clammy. “I just want you to know that.” Y/N sighed, rubbing Jimin’s shoulder before leaving him alone in the hallway with a racing heart and a conflicted mind.

[theotherscandystore-blog]

And I Have You

(Fourth, and final part!)

Pairing: Zosan

Description: “What I’m trying to say is that I won’t ever be able to understand the pain that you’re going through, but I understand the feeling of being so helpless, that you just want to give up. It’s so much easier than to keep on fighting; to slip away and never have to deal with the burden that weighs on you…. You’ll always have to fight it, and sometimes it’ll seem like it’s unbearable, but if you’re able to fight back, then why not try and live?“

Warnings: a lot of swearing, depression, attempted suicide, almost starving to death, and death

The room was filled with silence, other than the beeping of Zoro’s steady heart. Sanji’s own thrashed against his rib cage, as if trying to escape from the awaiting confrontation. Still, he slowly paced forward; and when Zoro’s gaze was fixed on him his breath was stolen from his lips. Sanji knew that look, could feel the lingering effects of what that look brought; it greeted him like an old friend, and then Sanji was scared for a whole other reason.

“Zoro—”Sanji breathed out.

“I wanted to die.” Zoro blurted, and suddenly Sanji felt as if he were on a sinking ship, being pulled under by cold water and all he could do was struggle to keep himself from being swallowed beneath those dark, blue hues. Zoro never admitted defeat; never lost sight of his dream. His name was supposed to reach the Heavens; to shake the world! Sanji believed that Zoro would never dream of throwing away his life’s purpose, but would and could were two different words, even if their sound was almost the same…

“I knew, before going into the fight, that he was stronger than me.” Zoro spoke, bringing Sanji out of his chaos wrecked mind, “I didn’t know he’d be that much stronger, but I knew that if I sought him out, than he would show me no mercy.” His voice was dull, lacking any emotion over his words.

The room grew into a violent quietness that threatened to rip Sanji apart. He felt his gut twisting and pulling on itself, felt the same pain that weighed down on his chest when he had been the one to lie in that hospital bed, almost starved to death. It was too familiar, to clear for Sanji to want to remember, but it tore at him and ate away at his racing heart. Thinking about the past at a time like this was murderous, and Sanji willed the hurtful memories away.

He needed to speak, to break the silence, but how do you even respond to someone telling you that they went out to fight because they had a death wish? Zoro had wanted to die....He wasn't going to think about that, wouldn't think about it, so instead he asked, "did you… Did you tell the others this? What you just told me?"

"No."

"Then why are you telling me? If anything Luffy would—"

"Luffy wouldn't understand—he wouldn't ever get close to understanding. He couldn’t even begin..." Zoro’s words lost volume, and soon they ended. He stared at his hands as picked at his fingernails as Sanji watched him. He looked so unlike himself, all confidence and cockiness forgotten and replace with meekness. Zoro looked weak, like a small animal trapped in a cage, knowing that they’ll never escape.

“Then why do you think I would?” Sanji asked after a moment. Zoro seemed to be searching for the right words as his expression kept shifting, thinking carefully over what he was going to say next.

“None of the others would stand there and actually listen to what I'd have to say. They'd show me pity, say that it was an accident, that I wasn't thinking right after I saw her—" Zoro seemed to choke on his words and for a split second, Sanji saw Zoro's eyes betray him. They told the unspoken story Zoro hadn’t said; brimming with misery, grief, sorrow, and anger before it faded away into the same glazed over look he had worn when Sanji first walked in.

"What do you mean?"

“No, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Zoro huffed, “never mind.”

Sanji clenched his hands into tight fists by his side to contain his anger, but his voice leaked with viciousness, “Never mind? You start explaining why you’ve been gone, saying that I was the only person that’d be able to understand, yet you tell me never mind?!”

“It’s not that big of a deal--”

“Of course it is! Zoro, you’ve been gone for two weeks without giving barely anything on where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing to anyone! I was worried sick about you, scared that maybe you took on more than you could chew, and here we are! I know that you’re better now, but do you know how terrified I was when I found you bleeding to death in that alleyway? Do you know what I felt when I held onto you, thinking that I was never going to see you again?!”

All the pent up anger seeped out of Sanji as he turned away from Zoro. It took every ounce of his willpower to bite back the onslaught of emotions, but his fears and anxieties rushed through his bones and flooded his veins. Like a scab being torn off, the pain flushed through as tears started cascading down his face. He tried wiping his eyes with his sleeves, but the tears wouldn't stop their attack. Crying was ugly, crying was messy, and crying brought with it too many over burying emotions that opened one’s heart to be beaten.

"I'm not sorry for what I did," Zoro says after a while, and Sanji spun on his kneel.

"Fuck you, you asshole! I don't care if you're not sorry, but the fact that you went and got yourself almost killed like you had some sort of death wish—you put us—me—through a living hell! You said that I was the only one who would understand, so let me understand why the fuck you would even think about doing this—hurting us all because of some sort of God complex you seem to—"

"Kuina died!” Zoro snapped, glaring over at Sanji until his expression changing into a pained look and he bowed his head.

"Oh shit." Sanji had heard Zoro talk about Kuina once. He usually kept to himself about his personal life, but Sanji had overheard Zoro talking to Luffy about her. Remembered how Zoro actually smiled talking about his sister, admitting that he actually missed her. Luffy smiled back, saying how he missed Ace as well, and Sanji felt as if he were watching something intimate between the two, and left with a heavy chest.

"After she died I tried to brush it off, I tried to just act like it never happened, but she—I couldn’t be in my own house without seeing her—hearing her voice from across the room, but every time I looked, she just wasn’t there." Sanji watched as Zoro tried to stay calm, tried to keep everything under control. He watched Zoro's face scrunch up, fighting back tears, but the dam had been broken, something in Zoro had been broken.

Zoro was crying and his sister was dead.

What do you tell someone after their sister dies and they try to commit suicide? 'Well, better luck next time,' range through Sanji's head in a sadistic howl that had haunted him during his recovery, and he had to shake off the terrified feeling slowly growing in between his ribs.

No one was ever prepared for something like this, no one should have to go through something like this—Zoro didn't deserve to feel like this. For as many times as he's helped out every single friend of his—and even strangers he didn't know—Zoro did not deserve this.

The world was a cruel place, and Sanji knew that better than most.

“The closest I’ve been to death was when I was younger,” Sanji spoke up as Zoro’s sobs became quieter. “I almost starved to death, and I sometimes still get hunger pains that feel like knives cutting into my stomach. It doesn’t matter if I’m full either, it’s like a reminder of past pain that still haunts me today.” Sanji took in a shaky breath, looking to Zoro who stared at the wall.

“I thought I was going to die, I’m surprised that I didn’t after how long I went without food and water, but I was lucky enough to have Zeff by my side to endure the pain with me. I can’t thank that old geezer enough for all he did for me—what he’s still doing for me.

“What I’m trying to say is that I won’t ever be able to understand the pain that you’re going through, but I understand the feeling of being so helpless, that you just want to give up. It’s so much easier than to keep on fighting; to slip away and never have to deal with the burden that weighs on you….” Sanji hadn't noticed that he'd started crying again. He went to wipe his tears, but noticed that something was holding his hand down. His eyes wandered to his hands and saw Zoro's hand in his, and he smiled sadly. He shifted his gaze to Zoro’s face and saw him staring back with an overflowing amount of emotion as tears spilled; his eyes searching for solace within Sanji that he had been deprived of for the past few weeks and Sanji’s heart lurched in his chest, begging to be given in replace of Zoro own broken one. Instead Sanji gently reached his hand up and wiped away Zoro's tears as well as his own.

"I'm not saying that it'll get easier, and I'm not going to say that everything within time will be fine; it'll still hurt the same. You'll want to get rid of the pain, but taking the easy way out isn't always the right way. You'll always have to fight it, and sometimes it'll seem like it's unbearable,  but if you’re able to fight back, then why not try and live?" Sanji said, hoping that his words would reach Zoro’s heart and stick to him like a tattoo. "I know that you'll pull through. You have Luffy and Usopp, Nami and Robin, Chopper, Franky and Brook."

"And I have you." Zoro said so quietly that Sanji almost missed it, but the words lit his insides on fire with a warmth that soothed his aching bones. Never in his life had Sanji wanted to protect and love someone as much as he did when he stared at Zoro with so much adoration in his beating heart.

“And you have me.” Sanji smiled for what felt like the first time in his life and watched as Zoro’s mouth twitched up into a true, genuine smile that he didn’t know how much he missed until now. He leaned down and kissed the swordsman's tear streaked cheeks ever so gently in promise of a hopeful future.

A/N: Here we are! Hopefully those who have read this have enjoyed the story and are happy with the ending. I know I threw you all into a whirlwind of angst, but hey, at least the story ended happy! Please don’t hate me! X’D (Part One / Part Two / Part Three / You are Here!)