#drunk calling dad on impulse to have words

[imaybe5tupid]

This bottle of Steven’s, awakens ancient feelings.

[lovingdilfs]

Do you know who I am (smut)

Part 4: what now, what next, where to

Summary: after the discussion of living separate lives, it backfires when you get drunk and shows up at his house - or does it really backfires

Word count: 2816

Warnings: smut (I know y’all have been waiting) 18+, mature content, fingering, p in the v, virginity loss.

Oh lord have mercy, the begging eyes of him!

The passage of days and weeks seemed to drag on, and the name of Elvis Presley seemed to be everywhere, appearing more frequently than you had anticipated. No matter where you went, you encountered his name, and it seemed that everything you laid your eyes on had it emblazoned upon it. This overwhelming presence only made it harder for you to cope with the absence of the person who had been a constant in your life for so long.

Despite the constant reminders of your best friend's name. You struggled to come to terms with the loss of the person who had been such a significant part of your life. You found comfort in the memories of the times you spent together, but it was never enough to fill the void that had been left. You eventually learned to open up and tell your dad everything that had happened between you or sort of, he kept on asking about where Elvis was and Why you never seem to be with him anymore.

“Dad you gotta understand, we drifted apart and that’s what people do. He wanted something and I wanted something else. It’s part of life” it hurt you to tell him because you how much he liked Elvis. Each night, the urge to pick up the phone and call Elvis grew stronger. You wanted to tell him how proud you were of him and all that he had accomplished. You longed to put aside any differences and misunderstandings, and return to being friends like in the old days. The memories of your friendship and all the good times you had shared weighed heavily on your mind, and you couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps you could fix things between you.

But each time you reached for the phone, you hesitated, uncertain if it was the right thing to do. Part of you was afraid that reaching out could only make things worse, and that the distance between you was too great to be bridged. Yet another part of you held onto hope that maybe, just maybe, you could reconcile and relive the magic of your friendship once more. The desire to reconnect with Elvis lingered on, night after night, a constant reminder of the bond that you had once shared.

After a couple of drinks with your girlfriend Maria, down at the local bar. The alcohol had made you bold, and you finally mustered the courage to call Elvis. You dialed his number with unsteady hands, eagerly anticipating the sound of his voice. But to your disappointment, nobody picked up on the other end. You hung up, feeling disheartened. You had been so sure that reaching out to Elvis was the right thing to do, and now you were faced with the reality that perhaps it was too late. But no your heart wouldn’t let you stop there. The longing to see Elvis and hear his voice one final time had become unbearable. Despite the late hour and the fact that you had been drinking, you made the impulsive decision to go to his house. You stumbled down the familiar path, the alcohol still coursing through your veins, and finally arrived at his doorstep.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was the right thing to do, but the desire to see Elvis was too strong to ignore. You knocked on the door, and after a moment, a bleary-eyed Elvis answered.

“Y/N what are you doing here,” he asked while looking confused and concerned. “I-I jus *hiccup just wanes to s-s-see you again” you managed to get out with a drunken voice. "Are you drunk?" Elvis asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a little embarrassed. "No...maybe," you replied, feeling a little unsteady on your feet. Elvis held on to your arm, steadying you as he helped you stand. "Come on, let me get you some water," he said, his tone gentle and caring.

He filled a glass with water and handed it to you. You took a few sips, feeling the cool liquid soothe your throat. Elvis sat down across from you, his expression filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, and you could tell that he genuinely cared about your well-being. "Why are you here?" Elvis asked, his tone soft and curious. You took a deep breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. "I don't know," you replied truthfully, still trying to figure out why you had made the impulsive decision to come and see him. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. You felt a sense of comfort just being near him, and you realized that you had been missing this connection in your life.

"I gotta puke," you said suddenly, breaking the silence. Elvis quickly got up from his seat and rushed you to the bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet before you started to retch.

Elvis stayed by your side, rubbing your back and holding back your hair. “Let me find ya a shirt,” he said while letting your hair down, Elvis disappeared into his room. He returned a few moments later with a clean t-shirt, “here you go honey” he said, handing you the shirt. “Thanks” As you looked up at him, you couldn't help but notice that he had grown even more handsome since the last time you saw him. His maturity showed in his features, making him even more attractive. You felt a warm rush of emotions as you gazed at him, a mix of fond memories and a longing for what could have been.

You tore your gaze away, feeling guilty for letting your thoughts wander. “Now you do that look again,” he said while chuckling.

“Huh- what do ya mean” you sounded confused, but you knew damn well what he was talking about.

“Nothing, go change, I’ll set up the couch for you,” he said while leaning against the doorframe.

"No Elvis, I have to go home," you protested. "Honey, you're too drunk to wander around now. I'll take you home first thing in the morning," he replied before walking out of the bathroom, you closed the door, but left a little gap. You were feeling a mix of emotions, but mostly relief that you were able to be close to Elvis again.

You slowly began to zip down your dress, while Elvis wandered around the house finding blankets. You let the straps fall off your shoulders, as Elvis went by the bathroom he was surprised to see you in the mirror slowly pulling your dress off. A familiar feeling was building up inside his lower stomach, the same feeling when you two kissed the night at the party. He cleared his throat, to stop himself to look any further at you. Elvis quickly looked away and continued his search for blankets. He found the blankets and went back to the living room, setting up the couch for you to sleep on.

After a few minutes, you emerged from the bathroom. “I tried to make it comfortable,” he said while looking up and down at you. “Thanks, Elvis” you sat down on the couch, the t-shirt bearable coving your underwear. Elvis couldn’t help but notice your red underwear. He cleared his throat again, trying not to let his mind wander off again “anytime honey…just say if you need anything”

And with that, he left you to rest, but his thoughts kept going back to the sight of you in the bathroom, slowly taking your dress off. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the image from his mind. “Oh god, why are you doing this to me” he whispered to himself while settling in his bed. You woke up, with dryness taken over your throat, and a headache pounding against your temples. You looked around and saw that you were in Elvis' house, and you remembered the events of the night before. You wondered how he was feeling, and whether he was angry or still upset with you. You slowly got up and made your way to the kitchen, slowly pouring a glass of water. “Oh gosh Elvis you shocked me”, “I’m sorry I can’t sleep,” Elvis said, as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The two of you stood in silence for a few moments, both lost in thought. “Is the couch comfortable?” He asked breaking the silence “well a bed would be better, but it will do for now” you replied, taking a sip from the glass of water.

He gave you that famous boyish grin, “What?” You asked in a high-pitched voice. “Nothing, it's just weird seeing you again” he looked down at his feet, “yeah, I’m sorry I just showed up here last night” you added. “No it’s fine, it's good to see you again” He looked up and smiled warmly at you. “Touché” You smiled back at him, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence.

“Elvis… are you okay?” You sat down the glass "Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" He replied, looking at you with a worried expression. Of course, he wasn’t fine, he wanted to tell you it all, how he missed you, how he missed your smile, how he missed your smile, how he missed seeing you in the crowd, how he missed your support before getting on stage, all he wanted was to be with you. But he messed up and you had made up your mind. "Just curious," you said as you approached him, standing inches away. You took in his scent and felt his warm breath on your forehead. "What is it that you want to know?" he asked, looking down at you with a soft expression on his face. You could see a hint of sadness in his eyes, but it was also mixed with something else, something you couldn't quite put your finger on. “How do you really feel,” you asked softly, searching for an answer in his eyes. He took a deep breath before speaking. "I feel confused, sad, and guilty," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. You could sense the weight of his emotions, and you placed a hand on his chest. You could feel the beat of his heart beneath your hand, and you took comfort in its fast rhythm.

Your lips slowly moved inches away from his, feeling the warmth breathe on your lips. “Elvis,” you said in a low voice before his lips smashed against yours, You could feel the love and regret in his touch as your bodies were pressed against each other. The kiss lasted for a moment that felt like an eternity until you finally parted, and both of you left breathless. “We really shouldn’t do this,” he said while leaving small kisses at the corner of your mouth "I know," you said softly. Elvis’s hands slowly travel around your body feeling your curves. Your arms hugged him around the neck, to deepen the kiss, and he slightly moan against your lips. You could feel him grow underneath you, as you made some friction on his pelvis.

He pulled away from the kiss to look at you, with a mixture of longing and regret in his eyes. "This isn't right," he whispered, but you could feel his body still pressed against yours, wanting to continue what had started. You looked back at him, unsure of what to say or do. His eyes were searching for an answer in your eyes, but the lust had taken over. “Oh fuck it” he whispered, smashing his lips into yours again. He lifted you up by your legs, feeling the warmth growing in between your legs “oh baby, you're soaked for me” he left that boyish smirk on his lips, and you wiped it off by kissing him. He carried you over to the couch, gently placing you down, he looked down at you, his eyes filled with desire. “Baby relax, you’re too tense… I’m not going to hurt you” He leaned down and kissed you again, his hands slowly exploring your body, sending shivers down your spine. You gave into the moment, letting yourself be consumed by the passion and desire between the two of you. As the kiss deepened, you could feel your tension melting away "Elvis," you whispered as you interspersed kisses with your words. "Promise to go slow." He hummed against your lips, letting his hands slowly move up your thigh, You could feel get lost in the moment, letting small noises out in the room as he was inches away from your throbbing cunt.

His fingers gently tap against the fabric of your underwear. He began to kiss along your jaw, finding the right spot that made you buckle your hips up against it. “Easy now baby” he whispered in your ear, pinning your hips down by his pelvis, making you feel his growth underneath his underwear. His fingers carefully slid your underwear to the slide, tenderly sliding his fingers between your wet folds, wetting his fingers with your juices. “Oh baby imma make you feel real good” he softly mumbled on your neck.

His thumb gradually moved up your sensitive clit, slowly pushing pressure on it and circling it. You clung onto him, completely lost in the moment, only able to express your pleasure through moans and gasps. “Elvis I need you”, Feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, your fingers tracing over each ridge, as you deepen the kiss, letting out soft moans. Stopping at the hem of his underwear "Are you sure about this?" He asked, gaze fixed on you.

You nodded at his words “baby you gotta use ya words” You took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "Yes," you said firmly. "I want this." He smiled and leaned in for another kiss, he removed his underwear, stroking it a few times, before lining it up with your entrance, He spoke softly to you, "Okay baby, just take a deep breath and relax. It may cause some discomfort at first." You nodded, placing your hands on his chest. He slowly thrusted his hips against you, making you hiss at the feeling.

Gradually sliding inside you, letting you adjust to him. The feeling of the tightness of your walls around him was making him moan out your name. As you adjusted around him, he began to increase his pace. With each thrust, you felt the sensations intensify, unable to hold back your moans. Your fingers gripped onto his skin, each sound of pleasure escaping your lips only driving him further. “Oh keep those pretty sounds coming baby” he whispered in your ear, kissing your neck as he continued to move inside of you, “oh gosh you’re so tight” he panted out under his breath. He continued to push into you, his movements becoming more frantic as he got closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building up inside of you, a deep heat spreading throughout your body. "Elvis, I'm so close," you moaned, your voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment. In response, he increased his pace. “Come on then” as the words he panted out, it was sending you over the edge. The explosion of pleasure that hit you was like nothing you had ever experienced before. Your walls caving around him, sending him over the edge, while your walls were milking the last of his cum out of his twitching cunt inside you.

His body collapsing above your body, both of you taking a moment to catch your breath, your bodies entwined as one. The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and soft moans as you lay there “you were right, a bed would be better” he chuckled out. Your fingers ran through his hair, feeling his chest pumping out and down at a fast pace against your chest.

Elvis gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "You all right?" he whispered, "I feel amazing " You laughed softly, snuggling closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “Let me get ya clean up,” he said while he rose from you, handing out his hands to help you up. You felt a sense of loss as he moved away from you, but also a sense of comfort knowing that he was taking care of you. He led you to the bathroom, where he started the shower, and helped you in, gently washing away the sweat and evidence of what had just happened between the two of you. The warm water relaxed your muscles, and you leaned into him, taking comfort in his strong arms as he held you close. "I have something to admit," you said, breaking the silence. "So do I."

[justonemorechapternicercy]

Because my beloved @unbeknownstunknown was complaining about the lack of Tristercy 💙

It all started with the Hephaestus and the Athena cabins working together to invent the demigod proof technology to be able to connect with each other and their mortal acquaintances. Or maybe it started with Percy getting better friends with Piper, both of them being fed up with other people's expectations about their lives, about not being able to explore their own sexuality because others wanted them to be in a relationship with the "obvious choice".

Wait, no. It started with little Percy having a little thing for a certain Hollywood heartthrob he saw in a trashy soap opera when the neighbor lady was babysitting him.

Anyways, it started somehow, with the mixture of little things that built up into this moment.

This moment being Percy, drunk and petty, lounging with Piper around the McLean's pool, bitching about compulsive heteronormativity.

Dangerous combination, especially with Percy's tendency to listen to his impulsive thoughts, and Piper's inherited curiosity towards unusual pairings. (And by curiosity, Percy obviously meant obsession. As much as Piper liked to deny it, she was their mother's child through and through. Maybe not from the outside, but her personality definitely reflected on some aspects of Aphrodite.)

"You wouldn't dare to do it," Piper declared, taking a generous sip of her purple cocktail, leaning back onto the sunbed. The look Percy gave them was one that other people would have found disturbing, but Piper just smiled prettily, dipping his big toe into the cooling pool water. As much as the native American demigod liked to deny, they were disturbingly similar to Drew Tanaka. Only one of them was better at hiding their cruel side, and one of them was proud of it.

"Famous last words," Percy muttered, but then smirked. "So, what's the bet?"

Piper snorted, "There's no bet. You will do it, and I will enjoy the fallout."

"Valid," Percy nodded, unlocking his phone. He was feeling mischievous, petty, and yes, horny.

He hated that everybody thought that just because Piper and him were friends, and heterosexuals thought there was no such thing as a boy-girl friendship, the media had been speculating about their possible marriage ever since he first visited them.

He was not in love with Piper, thank you very much. No.

His sight was on another McLean.

Piper knew about this, and found it hilarious. Especially because of the conspiracy theories that were spreading through the tweets and TikTok videos that he, as a wrongly accused teenage terrorist, why would want to marry into a movie star's family. Most of them thought it was his way to clear up his reputation before trying to become an internationally famous actor himself.

He was actually quite ashamed of the internet. He heard that people were horny on the internet, with dirty, dirty minds, but nobody tweeted about him being Tristan's boytoy. Shame.

He would have to rectify it.

🌊 @ iblamethegods

replying to @ queenofthedamned

He obviously wants to fuck the dad

It was quite funny how quickly his tweet was retweeted. Some called him disgusting. Some agreed. Nature was healing.

Missy💀 @ queenofthedead

replying to @ iblamethegods

You disgusting freak! That's basically a child!

Prudence R. @ prupru

replying to @ iblamethegods

You might be onto something! #tristercy

Kathy Kat😻 @ tristanisadaddy

replying to @ iblamethegods @ prupru

OMG! That's so hot! #tristercy

Rach @ idareyou

replying to @ iblamethegods @ queenofthedamned

I agree… that idiot is certainly a child 🙄

Rach @ idareyou

replying to @ iblamethegods

The boy definitely wants to fuck the dad

Outside of the slight feeling of humiliation and humor of being called out by Rachel, he didn't think much of what would happen after he posted it - already was on his way to close it, not wanting to bother by the fall out -, when he saw something that made him glad he wasn't currently drinking.

TM @ lovernotfighter

replying to @ iblamethegods

What if the dad wants to fuck him too?

#tristercy

The icon was a picture of a familiar painting. A painting he had been staring at for the last two weeks, during each meal. TM was a follower of Piper (Feathers @stopstereotypes). Percy could admit that sometimes he missed the obvious, but-

"Subtle, dad, subtle," Piper laughed, more than a little tipsy.

-but he wasn't that oblivious.

It wasn't a joke, was it? He did caught Tristan looking at certain parts of him for longer than polite. And he hinted that he was quite lonely nowadays. And that he was bisexual. And that there was a reason why he had a daughter from the literal Goddess of Love.

Well…

🌊

What if the boy wanted to go inside?

He sent the DM, part of him still not expecting an answer, but it arrived almost immediately as if Tristan was waiting for his reaction.

TM

The dad would be waiting

Percy swallowed. Peeking from behind his phone, his eyes met with Piper's mirthful eyes.

"What?" He demanded defensively.

"Nothing," Piper smirked. It was a terrifying look on them. She looked exactly like Drew. "Can I be your maid of honor, stepmom?" She cackled finally.

Percy pouted, secretly happy that she wasn't jealous or resentful because of his crush on their father, but they shouldn't make fun of him. Placing his body weight on his arms, he pushed himself up.

"Well, my darling stepdaughter, I'm going to bed now-"

She look confused.

He smirked. "Have to make sure you get half siblings from your dad's side too!"

Piper's eyes widened, and before he could prepare to avoid being used as a bullseye, a stray flip-flop hit in his chest. "Fuck off, Jackson!" They yelled, wheezing.

Percy couldn't stop himself. "That's Jackson-McLean for you, Ms!" Then ran. He had other things to do that night than annoying the hell out of his future stepdaughter. He would have a lot of time to do that after the wedding.

"Oh? Jackson-McLean, you say?" A deep voice purred as he walked into the mansion. He wasn't startled when the gorgeous man stepped out of the shadows that were leading towards his bedroom, but his heart definitely speed up more than he ever experienced before outside of a dangerous situation.

Well… it was a dangerous situation in some way; he felt like a prey animal as the older man prowled towards him.

He couldn't wait to be eaten alive.

[legendaryinternetpersona]

The Demise of my Mother: Live and in Technicolor!

With each passing day she drifts further from us... well, from me. That last vestige of my former life in living form. The constant. The guiding, albeit neurotic, star. 

My brother didn’t call her on Mother’s Day. It is likely to be her last Mother’s Day with us and he’s clearly in denial and primed for an epic collapse once she ultimately passes. 

My dad knows she was the love of his life now and feels terrible about everything he did wrong to her and doesn't have words to express it, since he doesn't speak feelings so much, so he just avoids the entire situation, as is his usual modus operandi. 

I made a video today. I found a nice park by the river and poured a bit of my heart out. I just have so many exceedingly valid reasons to be sad in life, but also a great many reasons to be thrilled to pieces about life. And it’s a whole lot to take in at times.

While I miss and worry about my children I’m also grateful that I don’t have to worry as much as their father does currently about their care and upkeep while I attempt to right this ship that is my life, for the first time in my life. 

I was primed and ready to move in with one of my girlfriends as an au pair for her two high functioning autistic step kids but I’m unsure, after last night, and witnessing her bipolar in all of it’s terrifying glory. Echoes of my ex when he was drunk and ‘excited’. It had my alarm bells blazing. Klaxons sounded in both my ears. it was ... jarring, to say the least. I need to try and figure out a way to talk to her about that because, to hear her boyfriend tell it, she's doing that to the boys too. Now all the snark from the oldest towards her and solicitude of the youngest makes much more sense. And my mama heart breaks for those boys. But I’m also afraid this will be the end of a friendship I and her both very much treasure. 

I’m currently sleeping on a couch owned by a wonderful friend of mine. Inhabiting a corner of his living room with my writing desk. A corner graciously sacrificed by his daughter, who didn’t use it for her artwork anymore. Instead she does her art on her phone, and on a computer, lying on her bed. And I think she writes some too. I’m unsure. She’s 13 and guarded. Same age as my daughter. 

I feel like, in another dimension, her and my daughter are friends. Just like I feel like, in another life my children are friends with my girlfriend’s step children. They’re all the same ages.  And my oldest would come over and “babysit” but really we’d just be giving him money to come over and be the awesome older brother guy that he always is... I just feel like they would all get along. They all have similar traumas. With the same origins. All of it mother wounds. Parental pain I wish so much I could heal. If only I knew how. May the Good Lord see fit to guide me with the right words, and help me to hear His direction. I want to help so many people. A heartbreakingly overwhelming number of them. But I also refuse to do the emotional labor of everyone else. I will do my best not to offend but I will not compromise my values... and ...about those.... I’m not as sure. I still need to define those, specifically. I have a pretty solid idea what they naturally are, and what I want to tweak but I need to sit down and... that’s another post. 

I’ve been doing good with keeping up with my journaling lately. I’ve struggled with my impulse control, and on working on my goals. I’ve been scrolling, largely blindly, and driving around, trying to avoid the awkward of this house these days. When I’ve not been working, that is. 

My wonderful friend, who is putting me up and keeping me fed, and is so sweet and kind, is woefully and desperately in love with me, after a fashion. He loves me enough to want my body but not enough to stop destroying himself, which is the criteria I already stated for me to be able to even consider him as a candidate for a mate. I can’t watch someone I love do that again. I thought I told him this. I feel like he maybe missed that conversation. Or he was drunk. Things are... strained. I haven't figured out how to broach the subject again yet. I’m so scared he’s gonna kick me out, or something. Even though I doubt very seriously that he would. I’m pretty sure he’s a good honorable fellow. I will keep the internet posted for all my zero readers, as things progress. 

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

The man just made me cry. I sobbed. Wept real tears over the poor downtrodden little redheaded boy he was, absolutely desperate for his mother’s love and denied it when he needed it most, to the point where he now loathes himself and by extension, existence. An attitude which has somewhat infected his daughter as well. Depression can be a learnt behavior, as I myself am an example. It is so excruciatingly heartbreaking, listening to him putter around the house muttering to himself “no one wants what you have” and “no one cares, why are you even talking?” and I hear it and I’m like “Please, I care, and it pains me to hear you speak so cruelly about yourself” and he just says “this is my way” and I just... All I can see is that little boy, deprived the love of a stable mother, forced to be honorable, even to his own detriment, for the duration of his existence. And I cannot love him the way he so desperately desires to be loved. What he wants is his mommy back, he wants his childhood back, he *desperately* needs therapy. Will he ever go to therapy? HA, no. He will not. He doesn't love himself enough to do that, which is why I can't love him. I cannot force myself to endure another front row seat to a slow motion suicide. No matter how beloved the person may be to me. I just can’t put myself through that again. You have to love you as much as you want me to love you. I can’t do that for anyone.  So he takes that as an ego injury, I think... If he truly understood it at all when I attempted, I think I attempted, to explain it again, but he was drunk again tonight too, which is another huge trigger for me that I don’t particularly want to live with, and im so scared to broach any topic that might possibly be touchy when someone has been drinking. And thats another thing he’s completely disinterested in stopping, along with the smoking.... all these things I so badly want to stop doing to myself, that I am surrounded by, in everyone I know. They’re all so unhealthy and it hurts my heart.... 

And I’m back on the vape again. Mom doesn't know, but I do, and so does my body, and God, so I’m lookin askance at me and my frustrating lack of impulse control and I want to correct this issue post-haste. I want to correct all my issues. 

The story of my relapse is rather funny though. I mean, I think it’s funny. In a morbid, funny oh no kinda way. Mom has been sleeping more as I mentioned. I’m quietly falling back on my largely ineffective and deleterious coping mechanisms of overt muscle tension, nicotine consumption, delta/thca vape abuse and doom scrolling. I even caught myself entering Publisher’s Clearing House again even though I’ve been told a bunch of times that’s never gonna happen and I need to give it up already (I've already won twice, small prizes, but still). But anyway, already in near freefall relapse, bumming hits off every vape, or known vaper, I see, I worked the Breaking Benjamin show the other night at Thompson Boling. Benjamin himself left his lil blu brand vape on the drum riser, along with two nearly full packs of gum, and I pilfered the lot of it as we cleared everything off after the show. The whole shebang, took. I had no shame. I knew the roadies were just gonna chunk all of it, none of it was special. The man had a brand new, fresh charged vape on the bus, 100% bet. And probably enough gum left at the end of that tour to get him through the rest of the month, even with an avid chewing habit. Plus which he’s a ding dang rockstar and I’m verifiably impoverished victim of the state, as well as larcenous junkie for nicotine, apparently. At least I seem to play one on the stage that is my life at present. Benjamin himself acted as an agent of Satan for me that night and he didn’t even know it. Was completely unaware. And I bought more pods for it today. Even after writing down, on paper, just this morning, that *that* was exactly what I had decided NOT to do anymore, that was the line, the rule: ‘no more spending money on inhalable nicotine’, to be followed by ‘no more intentional damage to the lungs’. And then I rationalized the whole thing in my head to excuse this breaking of that rule, not even 18 hours later, even knowing that everything I want in this life and the next lies on the other side of this addiction.... 

Well shit, I guess the story isn't all that funny. It’s actually pretty sad. 

...like the rest of my life, at present, from most angles.

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

[thoughts-feelings-musings]

18.3.23

Officially someone that has had alcohol. Wild times. Lol jk, very chilled easy intro. Just how it should be.

I’m at Is with A. It’s been fun. I feel honoured. I feel pleased. I feel like I’m a bit of a let down to everyone around me.

But I feel strange recently. Down/low. I feel it now. It’s nothing horrendous or overwhelming- just a state my brain and body keeps coming back to. I’m sure it’s ok.

I just feel like:

I’m a burden to others

I’m annoying

I’m uninteresting

Trying too hard to be interesting

Unfunny

Boring

Too much

At best, nothing to care too much about

At worst, unlikeable and a leech.

Maybe I’m not those things in the eyes of others, or maybe I am. But I don’t know. I feel like I will never know. It’s just like an itch under the surface of your skin. Logically, I think none of that’s true- but deeper I worry it is. I worry it’s all horribly true.

I hate it all. I think I don’t like myself. If I don’t like me then that’s the ultimate sign no one else does- or no one else should.

I’m not going to do anything drastic but I feel like a teen again. How I felt before I left mum and everything behind.

Maybe it’s because she got in touch with me- or booked in.

Maybe that’s triggered this. Maybe it’s post covid blues, if that’s even a thing.

I wonder if I’d be better off not being here.

This isn’t drunk feeling crap. This is how I feel. I don’t think I’m anything more than a little tipsy or intoxicated. It’s not what I thought it would be.

I want my little nail scissors. I used to use them on my hips. It’s coming up to summer so I won’t.

I wouldn’t call it sh but I guess it was. I’ve been picking at my lips again- found myself scratching at my skull. Not to bleeding, the skull that is.

I might get a period soon. It will be weird if I do. A year in the making.

I have a phone call with health in mind on Wednesday. What do I even say? Why am I even there? What do I want out of it?

I have so much shit to work on in myself. It feels like too much to face. But I will face it- that’s how this works. That’s being a human. I’ve done it before- this time last year with RO- and it feels massive and scary and terrifying but it feels better afterwards. Temporary discomfort for long term gain. Long term joy, chillness- NEUTRAL.

What if everyone dislikes me? What if I’m the worst person everyone knows. I’m in my head about myself. I don’t like it. I want to feel free again like I did before. I thought alcohol might do that but it didn’t, but we took it slow and eased me in so I guess that wouldn’t happen in this setting.

I wish I was someone I am not. I hate that feeling.

I want to go back to liking myself and enjoying who I am and the world around me.

Would it be wrong to sleep on the floor here?

I haven’t been to a “sleepover” before. Not for years. I feel weird. That’s how I feel- inexperienced with everything. I’m a child still really, in comparison to everyone I know. It makes me feel like hiding away forever.

Having covid was triggering to the days of old. Bedridden. Bored. Unwell. I think that’s why these feeling are here partly.

I wish I liked me more. I don’t like my face or my hair or my body or my voice or my words or my personality.

I want to hide away. From everything and everyone. I even want to be ill again. Just so I have an excuse.

If/when dad goes that’s when I’ll revisit my end it all strategy.

I feel so crappy about myself and I have all week.

I need to let go more. Loosen up. Think less. Go with impulse. Be normal.

I am sad that I never got to be a teenager.

[ancestryfound]

( lil tidbit hcs i came up with for my boy c: )

his mother has danish, dutch, swedish, and norwegian ancestry, while is father is mainly of italian, danish, and polish descent

he used to have his father’s last name, rizzo, but when his parents split and his father left, his surname was legally changed to his mother’s, kullersen

according to tom himself, in his own words, his father looks “nothing like him”. and it’s true, because anthony’s dark red-brown hair and deep brown eyes from his italian side are his dominant traits

he hasn��t actually seen his dad in person in over ten years. he’s had a few phone calls with him over the years soon after he left, but the habit kind of died down. he never forgot, though, how his father always told him that he loved him before he hung up. it doesn’t really feel like he does, though.

his parents’ relationship wasn’t necessarily abusive, per se, but anthony’s behavior greatly worried olivia and she distanced her son from his father’s more problematic behaviors, like reckless driving and getting drunk and high regularly with his friends. sometimes she worries that her son’s overly impulsive and near destructive adventurous attitude is somewhat of a mirrored reflection of his father’s behaviors, although his genuine interest in what he does comes from her.

olivia and anthony had tom relatively young. olivia was 22 and anthony 19 when their son was born. anthony was trusted in watching over their son as olivia went through graduate school and got her phd. anthony was essentially a stay-at-home dad as olivia went through her higher education.

he was diagnosed with ADHD & autism when he was six years old. his mother became concerned with his impulsive nature, his frequent outbursts, and his seeming inability to come when he was called or even respond to his name at all.

while we’re on the topic of neurodivergency, please allow me to take a moment to talk about tom’s symptoms hahahAHAHA

the obvious ones we’ve seen in canon are his difficulty connecting with others, noticing often missed details and patterns in his environment, depression, responding to social cues (eyes that scene where he’s about to leave before alex stops him to tell him about the updated maps when she’s clearly expecting him to ask about them), difficulty keeping eye contact, funky posture, (some) trouble empathizing, some social anxiety, and being awkward with physical touch (and perhaps denial of symptoms as well, attributing his awkwardness and reserved nature to his family struggles), but he also has a whole slew of other symptoms we haven’t really seen (at least in my book 😎 )

he needs something in his hands in order to focus, like a pencil or fidget toy, and often finds himself doodling on a piece of paper since it helps him focus on the things that are going on around him

bites his lip, rolls his fingers together, jiggles his legs, constantly stretches briefly, taps his fingers/nails, and has to get up and leave the room to walk around because he feels like he has pent up energy

he often says things out of the blue that he thinks are appropriate, even after being scolded by his mom or a friend about how what he said was actually rude

has difficulty responding to body language & social cues

mouths along to the speech patterns of (mostly) people on tv and copies/adds to their body language

has difficulty knowing when it’s his turn to talk or give input

finds certain textures on certain parts of his body really annoying. for instance, he doesn’t like silk or denim on his arms, or anything with a “bubbly” texture under his hands or feet

will take some jokes/figures of speech literally and often asks for clarification if something is sarcastic or to be taken seriously, depending on the context of the situation

finds it extremely difficult to control his emotions and will burst out in frustration if he expects something to go one way and it doesn’t

he’s fairly musically talented as well, he played trumpet for a few years in grade school before switching over to cello. he’s also a pretty decent singer and has a basic understanding of piano and guitar.

has. pretty bad asthma actually??? like if he runs too much he’ll legit start wheezing and will probably be unable to breathe. uses his inhaler ~6 times a month during periods of low activity

also has a pretty mild case of scoliosis but it still causes him quite a bit of pain sometimes. he’s often seen leaning over to his right side a lot, and his hips jut out forward and inch up to his left ever so slightly

[ancestryfound-a]

( lil tidbit hcs i came up with for my boy c: )

his mother has danish, dutch, swedish, and norwegian ancestry, while is father is mainly of italian, danish, and polish descent

he used to have his father's last name, rizzo, but when his parents split and his father left, his surname was legally changed to his mother's, kullersen

according to tom himself, in his own words, his father looks "nothing like him". and it's true, because anthony's dark red-brown hair and deep brown eyes from his italian side are his dominant traits

he hasn't actually seen his dad in person in over ten years. he's had a few phone calls with him over the years soon after he left, but the habit kind of died down. he never forgot, though, how his father always told him that he loved him before he hung up. it doesn't really feel like he does, though.

his parents' relationship wasn't necessarily abusive, per se, but anthony's behavior greatly worried olivia and she distanced her son from his father's more problematic behaviors, like reckless driving and getting drunk and high regularly with his friends. sometimes she worries that her son's overly impulsive and near destructive adventurous attitude is somewhat of a mirrored reflection of his father's behaviors, although his genuine interest in what he does comes from her.

olivia and anthony had tom relatively young. olivia was 22 and anthony 19 when their son was born. anthony was trusted in watching over their son as olivia went through graduate school and got her phd. anthony was essentially a stay-at-home dad as olivia went through her higher education.

he was diagnosed with ADHD & autism when he was six years old. his mother became concerned with his impulsive nature, his frequent outbursts, and his seeming inability to come when he was called or even respond to his name at all.

while we're on the topic of neurodivergency, please allow me to take a moment to talk about tom's symptoms hahahAHAHA

the obvious ones we've seen in canon are his difficulty connecting with others, noticing often missed details and patterns in his environment, depression, responding to social cues (eyes that scene where he's about to leave before alex stops him to tell him about the updated maps when she's clearly expecting him to ask about them), difficulty keeping eye contact, funky posture, (some) trouble empathizing, some social anxiety, and being awkward with physical touch (and perhaps denial of symptoms as well, attributing his awkwardness and reserved nature to his family struggles), but he also has a whole slew of other symptoms we haven't really seen (at least in my book 😎 )

he needs something in his hands in order to focus, like a pencil or fidget toy, and often finds himself doodling on a piece of paper since it helps him focus on the things that are going on around him

bites his lip, rolls his fingers together, jiggles his legs, constantly stretches briefly, taps his fingers/nails, and has to get up and leave the room to walk around because he feels like he has pent up energy

he often says things out of the blue that he thinks are appropriate, even after being scolded by his mom or a friend about how what he said was actually rude

has difficulty responding to body language & social cues

mouths along to the speech patterns of (mostly) people on tv and copies/adds to their body language

has difficulty knowing when it's his turn to talk or give input

finds certain textures on certain parts of his body really annoying. for instance, he doesn't like silk or denim on his arms, or anything with a "bubbly" texture under his hands or feet

will take some jokes/figures of speech literally and often asks for clarification if something is sarcastic or to be taken seriously, depending on the context of the situation

finds it extremely difficult to control his emotions and will burst out in frustration if he expects something to go one way and it doesn't

he's fairly musically talented as well, he played trumpet for a few years in grade school before switching over to cello. he's also a pretty decent singer and has a basic understanding of piano and guitar.

has. pretty bad asthma actually??? like if he runs too much he'll legit start wheezing and will probably be unable to breathe. uses his inhaler ~6 times a month during periods of low activity

also has a pretty mild case of scoliosis but it still causes him quite a bit of pain sometimes. he's often seen leaning over to his right side a lot, and his hips jut out forward and inch up to his left ever so slightly

[alloftheimagines]

billy hargrove | i need my girl

masterlist | request

words: 3k

warnings: sexual harassment, mentions of domestic abuse, billy being a drunk asshole (with an apology), strong language, alcohol, smoking, relationship angst, brief mention of reader having period cramps and brief mention of fatphobia.

prompt: Reader finds out that Billy get stuck at a party and reader had to drive to her house so he doesn't get in trouble by his father. Billy say some mean thing to reader while being drunk.

AN: I've been listening to "I Need My Girl" by the National A LOT and somehow this ended up fitting right in with the prompt. just in case you like music with your fics!

You’re in your bedroom when he calls you, your pink telephone ringing. You’ve been expecting it. Nobody ever calls you on a Saturday night. Nobody but him. You’ve been waiting, anxious, because he’s at a party and you’re not, and you know what he’s like when he drinks too much.

“Hello?” you answer upon picking up, slipping a bookmark between the pages you’d been reading and crossing your legs.

Billy’s voice is slurred and gravelly on the other side as he yells, “Shut the fuck up. Shut up. I can’t hear my girl.”

You roll your eyes, though the term of endearment warms your chest.

“Babe?” he asks finally, and you imagine him swaying by the telephone, or maybe draped across a couch. You hear the sound of laughter in the background and wonder what kind of fun he’s been having tonight. Whether he misses you, or if the loud music is enough to drown you out of his thoughts for hours on end. Not like you. You’ve been worrying, imagining, all evening. It’s been a rough week with his dad, and Billy needed desperately to blow off steam, he said.

You never dare ask what "blowing off steam" consists of—not when he does it in the likes of Carol’s house, with prettier, popular girls. Not that you don’t trust him. You just know how he loses his head to impulse and self-destruction when he’s struggling. Worse when he’s drunk. Trying to talk him out of it only makes him feel smothered. He needs his space, and you have to live with that.

“What’s up, Billy?” You sigh and push the book away, rubbing your tired eyes.

“Not annoyed at me, are ya?” he asks. “Don’t be like that, baby. Don’t be grumpy.”

“I’m not. Just tired.”

“Oh, c’mon. You’re missin’ me. You can admit it.” It feels like he’s rubbing it in. Because all you wanted tonight was to stay in, rent a movie, and eat popcorn in his arms. But he hadn’t wanted to. He rarely does. Where you’re an introvert through and through, he only wants to jump from one rowdy moment to the next, never staying still for long enough to think, feel. And sometimes, you wonder if it’s because you’re not really what he wants. He claims to like your bookish, softer side, the fact you’re not like the other idiots he hangs out with—and yet when it comes down to it, he always chooses to hang out with them before you.

“Look, I’m about to go to sleep, so—”

“No, no, no,” he protests. “You can’t sleep. I need you…need you t’pick me up.”

You sigh and check the clock on your bedside table. It’s two am, you’re in your pyjamas, and you're suffering from a mean case of period cramps. Going out to pick up your drunken boyfriend is the last thing you want to do. “I can’t. It’s late. Can’t you catch a ride?”

“No. No. I can’t go home tonight.” Sadness shimmers in his tone. “Neil’ll kill me if he sees me drunk.”

“Then stay at Carol’s for the night. I’m sure she won’t mind.” It's petty, even for you, and you hate to be the jealous girlfriend.

His irritated huff crackles down the line. “I wanna see you. Wanna stay with you. C’mon, babe.”

You close your eyes, pain lancing through your chest. He knows you can’t deny him when he pleads with you like a desperate child. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”

“Great. You’re the best.”

“Billy—”

He’s already hung up, leaving you to talk to an empty, droning receiver.

You slam it down and pull on the first clothes you find, exhausted and already dreading what you’ll find when you get to the party.

***

For good reason. As soon as you get out of the car, you hear the screeches of drunks twirling around the garden, abandoning empty beer cans and cigarette butts. Music blares from inside, silhouettes dancing in the window against flashing lights. Billy isn’t anywhere outside, which only makes things worse.

You steel yourself before stepping in, crossing your arms over your chest, since you didn’t have time to so much as put a bra on beneath your loose sweater. Your car keys jingle in your hand, your only comfort when sour, alcohol-laced breath wafts around you and bodies bump into you. “Hey, you’re Hargrove’s girl,” one of them mutters.

“Not for much longer,” you reply through gritted teeth. Not if this becomes a habit.

It’s Carol you stumble across first, bleary-eyed and smirking. “Lookin’ for Billy?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“He’s got you on a tight leash.” She sneers, looking you up and down before pointing to the couch. “Over there.”

Anger pricks through you, but you take a deep breath and march over to the couch without another word. A reaction is what they want, and they won’t get one from you.

Billy lays sprawled on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in his hands and his eyes unfocused. His face is slick with sweat, his torso bare and his T-shirt and jacket strewn on the floor. He attempts to sit up when he sees you, eyes brightening. “Baaaaabe. You came for me.”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, picking up his abandoned clothes. “Put your shirt on.”

“Uh-oh. She’s moody,” he pretends to whisper to the boy beside him, Tommy, who laughs as his eyes rake across you with something you don’t like.

“Isn’t she always? You picked the most uptight bitch in Hawkins.” He nudges Billy as if he’s in on the joke, and he laughs just to prove it.

It stings. Burns. You didn’t come here to be mocked by your boyfriend’s friends. You came here to take him home. “You wanna walk home?” you ask him, voice clipped.

“Now look.” Billy pulls his shirt on inside out, an oily smile on his face. “You poked the bear. She’s gonna be a pain in my ass all night.”

It isn’t just the words that make your stomach twist, but the way he’s talking about you as though you aren’t even there. You get enough of it at school. You shouldn’t have to endure it now, too. Not from him. He can be hot-headed, loud, and you’re patient because you know it’s a result of his father, but this…this is different. This is dehumanising. It makes you feel so small, you want to disappear.

You can’t even walk out. Not with Billy in this state, his eyes hooded and his limbs clumsy. He could run out into the road or pass out, choke on his own vomit, anything. And you know even now, deep in your heart, that he wouldn’t have called you tonight if he didn’t need to. It’s not something he makes a habit of, and not just because his friends like to poke fun.

So you just stand and you take it, offering your hand. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

“Yeah, Billy. Do what your mom says. Off you go.” Tommy slaps his shoulder in jest as Billy attempts to haul himself off the couch. In the end, he only ends up pulling you back down with him, his unstable weight too much for you to bear on your own. You end up on his lap with an “oof.”

“On second thought, she’s got a pretty nice ass, huh?” A hand lands on your rear end, and it isn’t Billy’s. “Let me know when you’re done with her. I wouldn’t mind a go myself.” Tommy is chortling like a five-year-old as you slap him away, your cheeks turning a furious shade of red.

And Billy…you see the anger, the clarity, seep into his hazy eyes. See him stagger up off the couch. See him grab Tommy by the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the couch. “The fuck did you say?”

“Woah. Chill out,” Tommy says, eyes wide and his smug smirk long gone. “I was just messin’ around.”

“Yeah? Well you can go mess around with yourself. Don’t fuckin’ touch my girl. Asshole.” Billy is trembling, and you swallow as fear rises in you.

“Billy,” you whisper, attempting to pry him away before a punch is thrown. “Please. Let’s just go home.” Tears flood your vision when you realise everyone is watching. You’ve been humiliated by every single person in this room, including the only man you thought you could trust.

Billy doesn’t let go. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, rage tightening the tendons in his wrists, his knuckles turning white around Tommy’s shirt.

“Billy,” you beg again. “Please. I want to go home.” Your voice cracks pathetically, and you hate yourself for it.

But Billy loosens his grip slowly, the vein in his forehead throbbing. “Don’t even look at her again, or I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”

Tommy only lifts his hands in surrender, pale and shaken.

“Come on,” you murmur, dragging Billy by the arm. He follows, stumbling until he slips his arm around you just to keep himself upright. Your teeth clench with the effort it takes to guide him out of the house, glad when the fresh air hits your clammy face.

“What a fuckin’ dick,” Billy is mumbling in your ear. “I shouldn’t have come to this fuckin’ party. I hate that guy, Y/N.”

Finally, you reach your car, pulling open the passenger door and throwing Billy in with little tenderness. You slam the door on him, anger still rippling through you as you round the bonnet and slip into the driver’s side.

“Woah, woah,” he winces, “What’s with the slammin’ doors?”

You can’t say anything. If you do, you’ll explode, and there’s no use having an argument with him when he’s like this. Instead, you turn on the radio, fist the steering wheel with shaking hands, and drive.

“What, you’re not talking to me now?” He pokes you in your ribs, teasing, but you keep your glare on the road ahead. “Oh, c’mon. You know I hate the silent treatment.”

And you can’t help it. You explode. You veer off the road, coming to a halt by the tree line so you can face him properly. “You know what I hate, Billy? I hate being humiliated in front of everybody. I hate being talked about like I’m not there. Like I’m just the butt of your shitty fucking jokes. Like you don’t even want to be with me. I hate feeling like a piece of fucking shit because I came to get you, to help you, when you asked me to.”

He blinks, tucking his chin into his chest and sighing. “I know. And Tommy was way out of line—”

“I’m not talking about Tommy!” you scream—and regret it instantly when he flinches. He hates shouting. Hates being shouted at. You know that. You’re just so fucking angry, so hurt. You sigh; scrape your hand across your face before continuing, quieter. “I’m talking about you. The way you spoke to me, the way you laughed at his jokes. It felt…” your eyes well with tears, and you clutch your chest as though there’s a knife there, because that’s what it feels like. You’ve lived your entire life this way, getting nothing but laughed at by your parents, siblings, friends. For being too nerdy, too chubby, too everything. Everyone treats you like you're nothing. You just never thought he would, too. But he’s looking at you like you’re speaking a different language, a stray curl falling into his eyes, and you know it’s useless trying to make him understand. So you shake your head and focus on the road again. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Let’s just go home.”

“Y/N…”

You turn the radio back on to drown him out, but it does nothing to staunch your tears. You feel his gaze on you the entire time, and it only makes it worse, until soon your bottom lip is wobbling and you have to clamp down on it, have to wipe the tears from your eyes so the lights around you are no longer blurred.

“Shit,” Billy mumbles finally.

It’s all he says until you pull up in front of your house. Your bedroom light is still on, while the rest of the street is pitch-black.

You shut off the engine, exhausted and numb, and unfasten your belt. But when you try to get out, his fingers curl around your wrist, keeping you there.

You can’t look at him yet, so you look at the garden path behind him.

“Baby,” he says softly. “I’ve fucked up. I know. I know I have.”

You can’t argue with that.

Frustratedly, he scrapes his hair back. “I shouldn’t have made those bullshit jokes. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know why I do a lot of things.”

More tears, this time flowing faster, rolling down your jaw, your neck, dripping onto your sweater. Your ass still burns from the feeling of Tommy’s hand. “You know, he wouldn’t have touched me like that if you hadn’t laughed at me first. When you treat me like that, you’re telling him it’s okay to treat me like that, too. That I’m just a joke to you.”

“You know you’re not.” He brings your hand to his lips; kisses the back of it, and then your thumb ring and your knuckles, so soft and bearing no resemblance at all to the man at the party. He stinks of alcohol, and it means nothing. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

You pull your hand away, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes and sniffing. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No.” His brows furrow. “No. No. Don’t…please don’t. I said I’m sorry. Please don’t…please don’t leave me.”

Surprise flutters through you. You tilt your head. “What?”

“You can’t break up with me. You can’t.” He shakes his head, his own eyes glossy now, and no longer just with the booze. Fear is written all over his face. Fear like you’ve never seen before, even after Neil's beatings. “I know I fucked up. I know. I know. But we can fix it. I can fix it. I swear to god I can.”

“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just upset. I’m upset, Billy, and I can’t talk to you when you’re drunk because I don’t think you understand why.”

“I do. I do understand. I was a fucking shit. I was so…god, I felt like him.” His upper lip curls with contempt, and you know who he’s talking about. His dad. “You deserve so much better than that.”

You press your head against the cool window, closing your eyes so you don’t have to look at his broken features anymore. You hear the click of him unfastening his seatbelt, and then the weight of his rough hands on your thigh as he shuffles closer. “It’s worse ‘cos I missed you so fuckin’ bad tonight. Kept thinking about how I could have just been home with you, but I was out gettin’ wasted, acting like a prick instead. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m ruining the only good thing I have. And I don’t know why you’re still with me.”

You know he’d never say these things if he was sober, never admit them. But you also know they’re true, because he isn’t in the habit of being vulnerable like this unless he really means it.

“I’m with you because I love you," you say. "I just…I just sometimes wonder if you feel the same. If we’re right for each other. I’m never going to dance with you at a party or get wasted. I’m never going to like your friends, especially not now.”

“He’s not my friend.” It was practically a growl. “And you’re wrong.” He squeezes your leg. “You’re the only good thing I have. You’re my girl. I need you. I’ll do better. I will. I swear to fuckin’ god, I will.”

You don’t reply; don’t know what to say. You want so badly to believe him, but you don’t know if it’s enough anymore.

Until he says, “I don’t think I know. Y’know. How to have a good thing without destroying it. I’m so scared of…of losing you. Of being like him. And I think tonight I was waitin’ to see how far you’d go. How much you’d take. Like I wanted to show you the worst part of me, the ugliest parts. Maybe I wanted to drive you away now so you wouldn't leave me later. But I never meant for it to get that bad. I never, ever want you to be hurt, not by me or anyone else. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I just—”

“It does make sense,” you croak finally, letting your hand wander back into his.

“I’m fucked up, Y/N.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. You swipe it away with the pad of your thumb. “Maybe I am, too. ‘Cos it was so goddamn easy for me to fall apart tonight. To feel like nothing. And maybe I was expecting that, too. That you’d realise sooner or later I’m not what you want. That I’m…” Your chin quivers.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so delicately it makes you feel like precious glass. “You’re all I want. You are.” He rests his forehead against yours. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and you don’t mind anymore, because it’s him, and you love him, and you forget sometimes how fragile this thing is between you. How easily one of you could break it. And perhaps how you’ve both been waiting for it to break, somehow.

But in the dark silence of the car, your hands locked together and your tears mingling, you forge it into something stronger.

“It won’t happen again. It won’t,” he promises.

“It can’t,” you reply, because it’s true. You’ll allow one mistake, one bad night, but your heart won’t take much more. Not like that, anyway.

“It won’t,” he repeats, brushing his lips against the tip of your nose. He doesn’t try to go further, doesn’t try to kiss you, and you’re glad. He’s drunk and you're tired, and you just need him to be gentle with you. “It won’t.”

You end up falling asleep with him like that in the car, uncomfortable but safe again, nestled against his chest. And in the morning, Billy’s grovelling begins.

[singguks]

apolonia lighthouse → kim namjoon.

synopsis. after a universal catastrophe happens in your life you take a sudden trip to cabo and end up discovering yourself through the magical eyes of someone else. 

pairing. namjoon | reader 

genre. travel au, fluff 

word count. 4718 

warnings. a heartbreak and the journey to repairing it.

rating. PG-13

a/n. to my dear friend @joonipie who has shown me the way countless times whenever i needed it. happy birthday, hyo ♡ i love you doesn't cut it- excelsior, now and always!

Very few things in your life had pulled the rug from beneath your feet but this time the blow went lower and deeper than you had expected. 

As a person who liked to follow a plan and matter of fact had planned her entire life, you hadn’t expected to lose your job and your long-time boyfriend in the same week… or ever to be honest. And before it gets too dramatic: you quit the job.

Not the boyfriend though. 

Your life was good. Or you thought so. 

You worked as the head chief of a publishing company – the second-best in the country to be exact – and had been in a stable relationship for seven years. You were always the talk of the hour whenever you gathered with friends or family, for those same reasons. 

“My daughter is the one in charge of all those books, can you believe?” 

“You two are such a lovely couple… Oh my!”

“She is already so successful… I can retire in peace knowing she will take good care of everything.”

“Imagine your kids! They’ll be beautiful and let’s be honest, super smart.”

You felt happy whenever you heard it, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t. But when you arrived without notice from a business trip last week at your apartment, one you shared with your boyfriend, and found him not alone but accompanied by another woman every one of those ‘compliments’ started shifting things inside you. Having a nice job or making a visually good couple said nothing about you. Not even a little… 

Not even at all. 

It was like a spark got lit inside of you and although frail, it found enough space to be set loose. He tried to explain, your boyfriend… But you refused to hear a word. You remember marching down to the closet you shared, taking the first suitcase you found, and instinctively shoveling pieces of clothing inside without much thinking. 

You took the first cab you managed to see across the street and in another impulse you called your superior. 

“I’m quitting,” You said while pointing to the driver to just go straight ahead, “I know, sir. And no, I’m not drunk or joking, you know me well enough by now. I’m just done.” 

Your boss ended the call only after asking you to reconsider and to accept some vacations instead to think properly. And although you said you would, you knew it was a decision you were never backing down of. 

The cab dropped you off at the airport and luckily you managed to buy a one-way ticket to Cabo leaving in half an hour. And for the first time, something you decided that was completely unplanned, seemed planned by the universe itself. If you had to wait for that plane more than that perhaps you would lose your guts to do something so out of the box. You would probably go running straight to your parents' house, tears dripping down your face. 

But the plane came. You took your phone one last time to send a simple text to your mother saying the following: 

[ may 7th, 13:03 pm ]

Had a last-minute call. Going to spend a few more days off because of work. Love you! Send kisses to Dad. 

What followed was simple yet very complex; phone off. And the silence… Well, it was something you were not used to dealing with. It left room for much doubt and interpretation and… Thinking. Reflection. Something that you now realize, you never did. 

But that is a subject for another moment.

Cabo. 

Why Cabo, right? Well, you remember coming here for the first and only time when you were twelve. Your parents had been fighting a lot at the time, you reckon… It was a trip your grandmother was supposed to take but she insisted your father should take you guys instead. So you came, and your parents kept fighting. But something about the trip felt overly magical to you… 

Now that you think about it properly while flying above in the clouds contemplating your destiny and the reason why you chose it, it made no sense at all. It always felt like a magnificent experience somehow but you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had made you feel that way about Cabo or your time there. 

You remember your older sister being isolated all the time to be able to talk to her boyfriend on the only phone available for forty miles or something and your older brother teasing you in every way possible… Your parents rarely agreed on something back then which made every spec of moment frustrating and almost infuriating. 

Still… Something about Cabo being a secluded reservatory area, surrounded by two wide beaches. Or maybe the fact that there were few houses there, all of them located at least twenty meters distance from each other. Or how you could see the sunset from the south beach and the moonlight from the north one… 

Or maybe your little trips to the only local shop to find some snacks, which were a big deal for a twelve-year-old girl who had little to no personal space to herself. Oh, and the nice and cheerful fisherman who used to sing while working. The sea breeze… Feet buried in the sand. Lungs filled with air, sunshine beaming on the skin. 

Maybe those tiny moments created something bigger inside of you. Something that stayed dormant for a long time and now had the chance to surface. 

“Is this the uh… The-” You try, looking for the name of the bus that takes tourists to the reserve on the tickets. You had left the airport once you arrived still loopy as if you were having an out-of-body experience. 

“You’re going to Cabo?” You heard a low voice behind you making you turn. 

You stood still for a few seconds while staring at him. He smiled waiting for an answer. 

“Uh- Yes.” You say finally, “Yes I am.”

“Then this is the “The” you’re looking for.” He smiled wider. Something about him felt oddly friendly and made you relax in an instance. Right then you realize you weren’t one to be so open to strangers so this felt like a new experience. “I’m Namjoon by the way, nice to meet you.” He offered his hand. 

You looked at it, he had big yet delicate hands… You shook it. And surprisingly you offered no resistance in showing a smile of your own. A little shy compared to his, but still. 

Namjoon stared deeply at your eyes for what felt an eternity trapped inside a second and if you were a hopeless romantic you’d say time stopped for a bit. You see, he had this gorgeous dimple craved on sunkissed skin and a pair of hazed eyes that seemed to contain all the mysteries of the world. You knew nothing about him apart from his name and yet you already felt he was very different from you. 

“Nice to meet you too.” You say lost in thoughts. 

You were a straight line, and he was a damn parabole. 

The trip to the reservatory lasted two hours and for the whole ride you kept on admiring the landscape and how it made you feel. Sometimes you would look to the front of the bus and see Namjoon standing while chatting cheerfully with the driver… Sometimes your eyes caught hold of each other but you would quickly look back at your window. You kept going back and forth on this game of tag just to ignore the inevitable: what had happened earlier that day. 

When you least expected it, the driver announced your arrival. 

“Here it is-” Namjoon smiled at a guy while giving him his suitcase, you were next in line. 

“Mine is that yellow one!” You pointed out and he was quick to fetch it. 

“There you go,” He placed it on the floor for you and was quick to add, “Where are you staying?” To which you froze and noticing your embarrassment he felt the need to add an explanation and thank God he did. “Oh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, it’s just the houses are quite far from here and your luggage seemed heavy. I was going to offer my help, just that.” You saw him smile awkwardly. 

You find yourself breathing again and filled with the urge to dig a hole in the ground. The man was just being nice and you were making things feel uncomfortable. “Ah, sorry!” You say apologetically, “I totally misunderstood the situation.” 

You misunderstood the situation? Who says that!

“Nah, it’s fine!” He laughs it out while handling other baggage. “I should’ve explained myself better. It was blunt of me.” 

“Well, thank you for offering.” You say already pulling the bag away from this scenario. You absolutely hated awkward moments like this and for sure didn’t know how to handle them. 

You waved a quick goodbye and saw Namjoon staring at you with a big smile on his face and a hand over his eyes to block the sunlight. 

“You know where you’re going?” You heard him shout and you cussed through your breath. This couldn’t get more awkward. Fuck.

You turn around to look at him, and while staring down at the floor you smile in embarrassment once again. “So…” A sigh escapes your mouth, “Could you point me out the-” You take a look at the ticket once more and then finally resume, “The Carpenter Hut?” 

Once again his dimples get deeper, while his right arm stays raised to block the light from his eyes. His figure overall is beautiful… Like a carved statue. 

“That’s a really good one,” He comments warmly, “It’s that way, towards the south beach. The one all made of wood. Has a swing on the front, quite hard to miss.” 

“Ah… South beach.” You quite honestly ignore the description he makes once you hear the location. You remember staying on the north side the last time you came and somehow that little detail seemed like getting in the way of your new experience in Cabo. Almost as if things weren’t exactly like in the past, this time wouldn’t be as magical as it was before. And you needed it to be magical. 

“Yeah, south…” He said almost in an inquiring tone. “It’s the best part of the reservatory, the sunsets are always over there. And the water is warmer too!” 

“Yes, it’s just- The um… The lighthouse-” You looked at the horizon trying to have a glance at the structure. 

“Apolonia,” You both said at the same time and your eyes met once again. He laughed, you kept staring. 

“It’s still there. The lighthouse.” He pointed with his head towards his right side. “You can visit though, it’s just a fifteen minutes walk on the beach from where you’re at, don’t worry.” 

“Oh.” A cloud lifted from your spirits. “Thank you then, I will!” And once again you turn your back on him to find your lodging. 

“See you around!” He shouts and you give a glance back to offer a smile. 

You didn’t expect to see him around however, you knew he was just being receptive toward a tourist. This was a big reservatory, everything was pretty far and isolated… There was no way. Right?

Wrong. 

You had no trouble finding the cabin Namjoon had described and indeed the location was amazing. By the time you arrived there, the sun was setting and everything felt like a dream of oranges and dark blues. The Carpenter Hut, your new home for fifteen days, couldn’t have a more perfect location. It stood right by the beach, in a more private area, and from its mini kitchen window, you could see the Apolonia lighthouse from a distance. 

From the moment you walked past the front door you felt like you were living in another reality, you were acting nothing as you would usually do. You didn’t unpack or felt the need to like you always did; the luggage was simply left by the bed open. The urge you felt to cry earlier today vanished and somehow this euphoria took place as you started to open every window the cabin possessed for air to flow. The breeze felt so nice against your burning skin and it clashed so well with the hot weather that you saw yourself turning on a small and old radio you found on the kitchen counter. This melodic and quite sensual Spanish song started filling the ambiance and instantly matching its vibe you started dancing. 

Everything clicked and felt extremely natural. The only thing missing was a beer bottle on your hand which made you take a mental note for tomorrow to visit the local supermarket and do some grocery shopping. 

As for tonight? All you needed was to take a warm bath, something you were dying to do ever since you arrived at your apartment and hadn't had the chance to because of… Well… You know. That and to find a nice place to have dinner tonight. 

And that’s how you came to see the dimpled man once again. 

“You mind if I sit here?” He asked, pointing towards the chair next to you on the counter of the local restaurant you had chosen. As you nodded, giving him a free pass to do so, he smiled and then raised his hand to call for the waiter. “So we see each other again,” Namjoon spoke while sitting next to you. 

“Just a happy coincidence,” You see yourself reply quite dismissive. Still, you offer him a smile before taking a sip from the beer bottle you were holding between your hands. 

You hear him chuckle beside you, with pensive eyes, and then reply “A writer I really like once said something along these lines,” he licked his bottom lip before reciting the passage, looking straight at your eyes, “when we’re interested in something, everything around us appears to refer to it — the mystics call these phenomena ‘signs’, the skeptics ‘coincidence’, and psychologists ‘concentrated focus’,” 

Your eyes are kept on his for a few more seconds, admiring their depth and how the light arrangement adorning the establishment kept dancing on his black irises. You decided to give the situation a chance because something about him allured you. So you talked. And talked some more. 

The conversation lasted the whole night, and from time to time, when you would focus too much on his mouth while he spoke to you — blaming the loud band playing live for messing with your hearing — your mind would fantasize about him… Namjoon. The more you explored his, the more appealing he looked to you. Like leaning into an incredibly deep well out of sheer curiosity, and being so mesmerized by the secrets that its bottom contains, that you end up falling down without even noticing it. 

And in a way, you almost did. 

That night you drank much more than Namjoon. To drown the insistent demons pestering your head, even though he did an amazing job to keep you entertained. Suddenly the brief thought of seeing him in a different light made you remember everything going on with your ex. And well, as he left you safe and sound at the door of your private cabin, you felt the urge of doing something unexpected. Your eyes kept lingering on his, and the warm smile on his face started to fade with the slow but steady proximity. Everything felt so right… You were millimeters from touching his mouth with your own, and when he motioned to close the gap, you backed up. Suddenly the guilt of doing something wrong daunted you. “I’m sorry- I’m,” You started, and he was quick to comfort you, reassuring you everything was ok. 

You saw him walking away, amidst sand and all the stars still up in the sky, through the tiny window from the kitchen, convinced now you would never see him again. 

You were sitting on your beach towel, reading a novel you had been dying to start for a while now but never really found time for it, when you saw him again. It had been seven days since your last proper encounter. Until then you saw Namjoon here and there, but you always diverted ways. Like the time you went by the local grocery and he was already inside, so you quickly hid behind a jeep waiting for him to go away until the coast was clear and you could resume your activities. 

Why were you doing that you couldn’t quite understand. Fear perhaps… 

The sun was going down, and that’s why you decided to put the book aside for a bit. That’s why you saw him this time. As soon as you glanced towards the sea, to see the sun diving down, you saw him there, floating in that beautiful painting. 

The skeptics call it coincidence, huh… 

All of a sudden you got up and went towards him. Simple as two magnets being pulled towards one another. And you just stood there at the edge, silent, water touching up to your ankles. Namjoon had his back to you, just floating mindlessly while seeing the scenery before him. 

He finally turned around to come out of the water, submerged up to his shoulders. And he froze on the spot as he saw you. His body only moved up and down, following the movement of the waves, and his eyes were glued to your figure. Standing there, breeze touching softly your skin, and looking towards this man who intrigued you so much, you realized you should just stop playing it safe… Or running away. Nothing was ever guaranteed as you once fooled yourself that it was. You could still lose if you played it safe… So why risk a life you want because of fear? 

Namjoon seemed to have the answer. 

“Would you take me to the lighthouse?” You saw yourself asking. 

You still couldn’t wrap your head around why that place was so special to you, and still, you hadn’t made time to go there ever since you arrived in Cabo. Like everything else in your life, if you reflect on it. But you were done being dismissive of your wants and needs. So in a spurt of courage and freedom of your own idiotic rules, you asked Namjoon. Because somehow, you really felt he was holding onto the key to every mystery clouding your head.

“Now?” He asked with a fond smile. 

“A wise man once said: If not now, when?” You answered him with all the certainty in the world, and the way he looked at you, seemed like he had been waiting for this all along. Waiting for you all along. 

You had shoved your beach towel and your book inside the bag you had taken to the beach without much thought. You didn’t even bother to put on your shorts again, the swimsuit was fine. The only thing that mattered now was the lighthouse and this moment. This feeling of going on a deeper adventure, one around your own self. 

You talked about the stars and how this piece of land was first discovered. All this while Namjoon had a towel of his own wrapped casually around his neck, droplets of water falling from his brown locks. You could feel the warmth from his skin every time your arm brushed gently on his. 

“And here we are,” He said opening the front door of the lighthouse for you both to go to the very top, where the beacon was already lightened up. “Apolonia lighthouse.”

You were marveled by the structure. It was still there, intact, as you remembered it to be. If you closed your eyes and inhaled its salty sent… Mixed with the smell of old ropes and kerosene, you could still see yourself at twelve, laughing while climbing the huge flight of stairs in a snail shape. 

“I have so many memories here… Yet I only remember the feeling of it,” You mused while touching softly the old and rusty handrail on your way up. “How is it so well maintained with all the tourists coming here?” 

Namjoon opened the iron door leading to the lantern room before answering. It took him a good push since the door was old and lacking oil on its hinges. You couldn’t help but marvel at his back muscles that were still uncovered after his brief dip under the sunset. 

“Tourists aren’t allowed here.” He said simply, giving way for you to go inside and see the beacon turn gold everything it touched. “Not even the reservatory staff.”

And suddenly, as the light passed on Namjoon’s face, and then yours, your world was lit. 

“Oh my God. It was you.” You concluded looking at him, his smile growing wider and wider. He leaned on the door behind him, now closed, one hand coming to rub his neck. He chuckled looking at the floor. 

“It took you long enough.” 

“But how- I don’t even-” You were still confused despite starting to unravel some of the memories. 

“Remember me?” He chuckled again. “Yeah… I figured you didn’t recognize me.” He was avoiding looking at your eyes, somehow shy that you were now aware he knew who you were from the beginning. “I knew it was you from the moment I saw that yellow suitcase. Maybe even before. But the suitcase was the confirmation.” 

“The suitcase my dad bought me here…” You remembered the old baggage with a nostalgic feeling to it. You had never had the courage to throw it away, despite the years, and well, an occasionally crooked wheel. 

Namjoon nodded knowingly. “Not many people own a yellow suitcase with a lighthouse sticker on it, you know… No matter how faded it was, I still remember it.” 

“You gave it to me.”

“I’m hurt you didn’t keep me in your memories though, as I kept you on mine…” Namjoon admitted, now looking at you. “I even maintained this old rusty door here because of you, see,” He slid to the side to show you the bottom part of the iron door. Your initials were engraved there. 

And you chuckled coming closer to inspect the piece of metal. The more you looked at it, the clearer the memory became. Namjoon was the boy that had rescued you from drowning that summer vacation, years ago. You both became inseparable, and he often would bring you to the lighthouse because you had confided in him you loved the stars. His family was responsible for the maintenance of the structure. 

That was the reason Cabo was so special to you. Because he saved your summer then, along with your life. And you had promised him the day you were going back home that you would come back to visit. He gave you the sticker as a promise, for you to remember him. But you never returned. And although your memories started to fade away with time, deep inside he was always buried there, like seashells in the sand. You were never able to give away that suitcase. Now you know why. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” You questioned confused and a little pissed off too. “I’m here for what- seven, eight days?” 

“Because we shouldn’t force anything in life.” He replied, one step closer. “Because you seemed different from the last time I saw you.” 

“Of course, I would be different, Namjoon! Years have passed by! I’m not a twelve-year-old anymore,” You elevated your voice, but not in anger… Just indignation and even amusement for his naive thought. 

“Not like that. You were different.” And he pointed to the center of your chest, “The way you carry yourself. The way you seem so uptight…”

“Yeah,” You scoffed, “Because I have obligations now.”

He laughed entertained, “You keep giving yourself excuses.” Namjoon looked deep inside your eyes and for a moment you felt naked under his gaze.

“You don’t even know me,”

“Apparently neither do you,” He said more serious. “The entire conversation we had over dinner that first night, you mentioned writers that meant a big deal to you, all of them preachers of freedom, of magic, of wonders of the world. You recited their words and even mused on how great it would be to work like that. You might have forgotten, but I didn’t.” Another step closer, and you gulped down. “I remember you always talked about being a writer. And you still show that wanting, even if somewhat restrained.”

You opened your mouth to answer him but he just kept going. 

“What about the bottle of pinot noir you kept sliding your fingers on over the market, indecisive if you should buy it or not? Or the day I caught you skipping waves at the beach all excited like a kid just for a second later you cease it and look over your shoulders afraid someone was watching you?” 

At that, you gasped, “I can’t believe you were watching that!” One of your hands went to rub at your forehead quite embarrassed. 

“And what if I did? What’s so wrong with doing exactly what you want?” He questioned, another step taken. The distance between you both was so minimal you could feel once again the warmth radiating from his sunkissed body. “How about the kiss you almost initiated but then backed up?” 

You had your head tilted up now to be able to look at him, your heartbeat increasing the more you looked at his eyes. 

“Because,” You said faintly. 

“Because… What?” He repeated. 

Your gaze dropped to his mouth. And the moment you felt his hands on your waist pulling you closer, your breath hitched. 

“Because what?” He insisted, noses brushing softly. 

The beacon’s light kept shining on you both every turn it did around the room, and like it, you also felt your world spinning. 

“I- There’s no excuse.” You admitted. 

“I know.” He whispered before kissing you passionately. 

You deepened the kiss, and as your hands came to hold him tightly around his neck and at the nape of his head, you couldn’t help but feel like the scenery painted behind your closed eyelids: a rush of golden and white flashes that warmed your skin more and more. 

Namjoon had been the beacon you needed in your life once again, guiding you through a dark night. The boy you had met once, now a man entangled in your embrace, had always given you the greatest gift of all… Either in a sticker shape or in an ocean salty kiss, he had always seen you. He had always paid attention, he had always supported unconditionally your choices and your quirky ways, without ever holding you back, without ever judging. He was always your quiet comfort, the shared laughter, the hand you met amidst sand while building castles, the carved dimple you admired while he was distracted gazing at stars, the deep voice reciting you poems over dinner, the nose that brushed softly at yours so caring… The one holding you close and dearly. 

And that… That said more than enough about you, about him, and about what you truly wanted for your life. 

Your fifteen days were up. 

After much rolling in bed with Namjoon, picnics by the dunes, cold showers filled with laughter, dancing in the kitchen while drunk, biking around the reserve, and lots of dates on the lighthouse, you had finally to say your goodbyes. 

You had a plane to catch, that’s for certain, you both knew that from the beginning.  But at the airport entrance, when he pulled you back once more to hold you close in his arms and whispered softly “Please come back.” you looked at him with a different kind of promise. 

“This time, I will.” 

He had let you go that day because that’s what he did. Namjoon kept you close because he also let you run free. 

And not even a month later, there you were again. Ticket in hand, on your way to Cabo, on your way to him. Not for a vacation this time, but to stay permanently by his side. You were ready to pursue the life you had always desired — a writer living in the lighthouse of her dreams. 

[flowertot-s]

more weirdly specific cove holden headcanons (relationship edition)

y’all seemed to like the last one of these i did so Here, feast your eyes

his favourite dates are the ones where you go do something impulsive or unexpected (i.e., the dates from the happiness moment), whether it be going on long drives, going to a carnival, or even just a late night fast food run

he likes to give u fruit at random times during the day, no specific reason, he just wants to give u fruit

would absolutely hype you up at every given opportunity cause he thinks you’re amazing and wonderful and you NEED to know this at every waking moment

he can and will come pick you up whenever you need, doesn’t matter if it’s 3am and you’re drunk off your face after a night out, just give him the word and he’ll be there

will absolutely cry if u call cliff “dad”

always has to be touching you in some way. hand on the shoulder, pinkies locked, or just straight up giving you a piggy back ride, he just likes to remember that you’re there beside him

his favourite thing to do with you is, nothing. like literally just sitting with you and doing nothing or going out and running boring asf errands.

i personally think that his love languages are acts of service and physical affection. he’s EXTREMELY physically affectionate like 24/7 so thats self explanatory. also he’ll just, do things for you like washing the dishes and other chores you don’t like doing just because he can and he wants you to be able to relax

he loves the feeling of domesticity

house husband vibes. malewife. wife/husband/spouse guy. you know exactly what im talking about.

will brush and braid your hair for you without you having to ask

we all know he has a thing for arms and ankles but he gives me such “thigh guy” vibes that i CANNOT ignore it. whether its casually resting his hand on them, using them as a pillow, or straight up wanting to be suffocated by them, mans is willing to DIE for your thighs

once he shares a bed with you for the first time he’s a goner. he literally cannot sleep well without sharing a bed with you or without you cuddling him to sleep. he’s dependent on it now, look what you’ve done

like i said before he is literally just some guy. thats it. he’s a dude. a guy. a bro.

[simplyotometrash]

Some Obey Me Headcanons!

Part One!!

Lucifer

Lucifer has always been the dad sibling. After each of his brothers were “born” while they were angels, he was the one to raise and teach them everything.

It’s common knowledge that Mammon is his favorite. Even if he hates to admit it. He’s hardest on Mammon because it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore.

Despite the fact that they don’t seem to get along because of Mammon’s antics, Lucifer only ever confides some of his most pent up feelings to the second born. 

The only other person he confides in this deeply is MC.

Before the fall, Belphie was his second favorite brother. Even after things have settled after Belphie was free again, he can never look at the youngest the same.

All he wants is for his brothers to be happy and live on. Even if it means working himself into the ground for their sakes.

He doesn’t ask for help. Help has to be forced upon him.

With how much he works, even at home, it’s not uncommon to find him napping with a pen in hand at his desk and his head on his paperwork.

He wishes he had done better raising Satan. He blames himself for their strained relationship, but he feels as if it is too late to truly fix it.

Sometimes he also wishes he had raised Satan as his son and not his brother, considering Satan was born from his wrath.

Children, for some reason or another, flock to him.

His control issues and needing to know everything that happens under his roof stems from the trauma of the war, the fall, and what happened with Lilith. 

It’s his deepest fear that he will lose his brothers and be completely and utterly alone.

A bisexual mess of a demon. No one can convince me he doesn’t have at least a small crush on Diavolo. 

Mammon

Oh the second born brother. He just wants to see everybody happy. But he always messes up and ends up making people angry instead.

He has severe impulse control issues, hence why he’s broke all the time. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to save his Grimm, I headcanon that his sin of Greed compels him to spend. It controls him and so he struggles to keep money. 

But by gods does he have great luck with gambling. Get him going and he will win big every single time.

But keep that money where he can’t just grab it or else he will be compelled by his sin to buy things.

He doesn’t even want most of the things he buys. His sin took root in that empty space left from the fall and being cast out by the one he called his father. 

His sin pushes him to try and fill that void with objects and money when really he just wants someone’s love.

After centuries of being called scum and a degenerate because of something he has little control over, he gave up trying and gave into just being his sin.

He cries easy but only to MC or Lucifer. He won’t show his tears to any of his other brothers. Maybe Beel sometimes. But only sometimes.

He knows Lucifer’s most precious and deepest secrets. He’s his brother’s confidant. But he doesn’t even breathe a word of these secrets to anyone else.

He tries so hard to get attention, so he does stupid shit. After falling to Devildom, his family was changed forever. So any attention is good attention even when it’s him being punished. 

MC is the one who showed him positive love and attention again. It is one of many reasons he sticks to their side like fucking super glue to skin.

He’s actually a total mom-friend, though you wouldn’t guess it. You’d think he is the type to get drunk and pass out at a party? His alcohol tolerance is actually much higher than he lets on. He cleans up and takes care of people after they’ve all passed out.

Leviathan

He wasn’t nearly as anxious and against socializing before falling to Devildom. He retreated into himself out of fear of the unknown world they had all fallen into after the war.

He has an anxious attachment style. He knows it isn’t healthy. It’s rooted in the trauma that losing Lilith created.

The longer he stayed closed in on himself, the worse his anxiety got. To the point he became a recluse. 

He fears getting close to someone. He feels insecure in relationships, not just in himself. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.

He’s had relationships in Devildom before, but the first one ended poorly and it only made things worse for how he saw himself. The demon only dated him because of who he was, and preferred his status as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. Not as who he really is. 

The few relationships that came after all ended before they really could begin because his anxiety monster was screaming that he wasn’t really good enough. That they only ever pursued him for who he was in status and power.

MC’s persistence to become his friend is what made him begin to do some self-reflection.

They tried so hard to become friends with him, they put so much effort into him, and they encourage him to just be himself. If they do all of that, maybe he really is enough as he is.

He does try to step outside of his comfort zone more because MC opened his eyes to the truth of himself. 

But baby steps are needed.

He taught himself how to code just so he could make games. He got bored after making one and preferred playing to creating.

He doesn’t actually hate Mammon. Their little rivalry traces back to when they were angels and still growing up, competing for Lucifer’s attention. He actually loves his brother very much, despite how irritate he gets.

His envy is its own thing. It took root within his insecurities and has a voice all its own. It used to be so loud that he couldn’t think. But the growth he’s had since MC came into his life helped quiet that voice down a lot.

He’s closest with Satan and Asmo, feeling like he doesn’t fit with his older two or youngest two brothers anymore. 

Satan

He knew from day one that he wasn’t like the rest of his brothers. He was always different. Born a demon, never once an angel. He knew that they weren’t truly his brothers.

All he ever wanted was for Lucifer to be his father. Not his brother. 

Lucifer once was his hero, the person he admired and respected with all his might.

As he got older, his wrath only grew with him. And his anger at Lucifer grew as well.

He wanted to find himself as separate from Lucifer. He knew where he’d come from. But everyone treated him as if he were just some offshoot of Lucifer. He wanted to be his own person. For everyone to see that. It fueled his anger and built the wall that came between them.

He’s an excellent shoulder for comfort. He often comforts Levi when he breaks down or provides reassurance to Asmo.

These three are the middle children, they stick together.

He was alive when the Library of Alexandria was burned. Even though he wasn’t supposed to go to the human realm, he saved some texts from the library and keeps them safe.

The real reason he wears his jackets the way he does is just like when you’re in bed. If it’s full on with both sleeves, he’s too hot. If he doesn’t have it on at all he’s too cold. So one arm in a sleeve and one arm not in a sleeve.

Asmo has tried and failed to give this boy fashion help. He refuses to take it. He thinks he looked like an intellectual (for the love of god please lose the black undershirt at least, Satan).

He carries cat treats and cat food in his bag at all times in case he comes across a kitty in need.

He has sneaked many cats into the House of Lamentation. Lucifer knew the entire time but let Satan have a few days before he “found out” about the cats.

His wrath has burned strong for so long, even when he was passive, that he didn’t know what it was like to feel calm. But MC’s very presence sends a wave of peace right to his very core. 

Asmo

If you’re insecure and you know it clap your hands. 

Levi might seem like the king of insecurity, but Asmo takes the cake.

He masks his insecurities with what people think is narcissism and over confidence. He puts on a show so nobody knows how he really sees himself.

Lust was always shoved down his throat as sexual only. So he went with it. He was supposed to be the Avatar of Lust. To be what was expected of him and to make sure he was liked, he did what he thought everyone wanted.

And it turned him into someone he never wanted to be. He didn’t know how to find himself again.

He isn’t nearly as sexual and lewd as everyone thinks. He’s touchy and clingy, yes, but touch is his love language.

When he’s hurt or doesn’t feel well, if he’s had a bad day, if he’s sad- all he wants is to be held by the person he loves and who loves him. He wants to hold hands or link arms. He wants to wrap his arms around them all the time. 

But because everyone in Devildom only saw him as a sex symbol, he had to bury his truest desires. He had a persona to keep up. 

While he does love to take care of himself, he used to break mirrors because he was so sick of who he had become. It took a lot of time for him to get through it. 

His MC is the only one who wasn’t tainted by his power. A power that seemed to just be active all the time whether he wanted it or not.

Everyone was all over him but it wasn’t as if he could control it. His sin was always active, it attracted people.

But MC wasn’t interested or affected. 

And that was what was most attractive to him. 

They saw him for who he was and encouraged him to just be the true Asmo. Not the Asmo everyone wanted to see.

He is excellent at sewing. He loves making his own accessories and clothing from his own designs. 

He’s ambidextrous. You think that the king of fashion only uses one hand? Darling, if he only used one hand then his homework would never get done. He write with one hands and be painting his toes with the other. 

One of the few people that can get Levi out of his room to hang out. They’ve always been close. Sometimes he does that just so the others can get Levi’s laundry and dirty dishes.

He’s the most emotionally open and stable of the brothers. He’s made peace with his inner monsters and can coexist with them. He’s also surprisingly good at advice. 

Can and will break into Lucifer’s study to make the eldest relax because he’s working too har.

He has bobby pins on him at all times. Not just for fashion but for lockpicking! He can be clever and beautiful!

[allthingsfangirl101]

Forbidden Love Part 2–Phillip Carlyle

Part 1

Wattpad Request by psych0bxtch

Phillip's POV

As soon as I walked away from Y/N after we kissed, I couldn't focus on anything other than the feeling of her lips on mine. After the show, we were all hanging out backstage. I caught myself continually glancing at Y/N.

"We have a problem."

I looked over my shoulder to see Lettie walking in with her arms wrapped around herself, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Y/N jumped up and limped over to her.

"What happened?" She asked.

"They're back," Lettie stuttered. "I was going to go home but. . . They're back, Y/N."

"Who's back?" I asked.

"The protestors," Y/N sighed.

"Protesters?" I asked.

She looked at me with soft eyes, slightly shaking her head. "You're not usually here for the closing show. For the past two months, we've been getting more and more protestors outside after the show."

"They're drunk and loud and rude," Tom said, looking at his shoes.

I stood up, wiping my hands on my pants. I fixed my shirt before starting to walk outside.

Before I could leave, Y/N grabbed my hand and turned me towards her. "What are you doing?" She asked under her breath.

"I'm getting rid of the protestors," I said simply.

"But," she stuttered, looking into my eyes.

"Y/N, does your father know about the protestors?"

"Yes," she said under her breath.

"Why hasn't he done anything about them?"

"Well he. . . He says. . . He thinks they'll give up," she finally got out.

"They won't," I sighed. "They will keep harassing you guys until they go too far and I'm not about to let that happen."

I started to walk away again, but Y/N grabbed my hand again. "Phillip," she whispered. "Please don't do this."

I reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, my hand lingering on her cheek.

"I'll be fine," I reassured her. "Just make sure everyone stays inside until I get back."

She bit her lip and nodded, finally letting me go. As I took a step back, she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Be careful," she whispered.

I sent her a smile before turning on my heel and headed outside. When I saw the angry mob across the street, I shook my head. I jogged down the steps and walked towards them.

"Look who it is!" The leader laughed. "The mighty Phillip Carlyle. Everyone get out your ascots and opera glasses."

"Clever," I scoffed. "I'm going to need you all to leave."

"Why?" He slurred. "We aren't on private property."

"But you are drunk and disorderly," I sighed.

"Oh! College words."

"College words for 'get the hell away from my circus and my performers'," I threatened.

"Why are you protecting those freaks?" He laughed harshly.

"Those freaks are my friends and I won't have you hurting any of them," I said through my teeth. "Now leave before I call the cops and have you arrested for loitering and harassment."

I jumped back when he threw an empty liquor bottle at me. I glared and stood my ground as I waited for them to leave. I stayed outside until they were several streets away.

When I turned back towards the circus, my breath got caught in my throat. The whole building was on fire. Without thinking, I ran in and started helping everyone out. I ran over to W.D. when I saw him helping Anne out of the building.

"What happened?" I yelled over the commotion.

"One of the protestors snuck around back and knocked over a lantern," W.D. quickly explained before continuing to get Anne to safety.

I made sure they were out of the building before turning around and helping other people out. Once the building was clear, I ran back outside. I scanned the crowd, trying to take a headcount.

"Phillip!"

I turned around to see Lettie running towards me.

"Are you okay? Is anyone still inside?" I asked, still slightly out of breath.

My heart jumped into my throat when she said the last name I wanted to hear her say.

"Y/N," she said, her voice getting caught in her throat. "Y/N's still inside."

Before anyone could stop me, I turned on my heel and ran back into the burning building. The second I walked in, I covered my mouth and searched the ruins for Y/N.

I started heading to the spot where I last saw her, but there was nothing but broken building parts and ash.

"Y/N?" I called out. "Y/N!"

I continued my search, constantly calling out to her. The longer it took to find her, the harder it got to breathe and not just because of the smoke.

"Y/N! Answer me! Please. . ."

"Phillip?"

My heart jumped into my throat when I heard her soft voice followed by a rough cough. I turned towards where her voice was coming from, jumping over burnt building pieces until I found her.

When I did, I didn't have time to be relieved. I carefully lifted the beam that was trapping her. I knelt next to her and wrapped her tightly in my arms. I reached up and ran my fingers through her hair.

"Phillip," she stuttered as she tucked into my chest.

"I got you," I whispered as I tightened my arms around her.

I leaned down and pressed my forehead to the top of her head. My heart jumped into my throat when she let out a shaky breath and cuddled more into my chest.

"I'm going to get you out of here," I whispered. I stood up with her still in my arms. Once we were both standing, I leaned down and picked her up bridal style.

I looked down to see her leaning her head against my chest with her arms softly wrapped around my neck.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Reader's POV

I looked up and through the haze could see Phillip carrying me out of the building. My eyes started to water as I saw him covered in smoke and ash.

"Phillip," I said weakly as he slowly and carefully set me down. I turned my head and watched, too weak to do anything, as Phillip laid next to me. I reached over and grabbed his hand as the darkness took over both of us.

                                * * * * *

After Phillip saved me from the fire, we were both taken to the hospital. I woke up a few hours later, but Phillip wasn't as lucky.

The second I woke up and saw my father sitting in the chair next to me, I asked him about Phillip. As soon as the doctor walked in, I asked him about Phillip too. They both assured me that I could see him once I was strong enough.

I sat on the edge of my bed a couple of hours later, waiting for my doctor to come back and tell me I could go check on Phillip. After me asking over and over again about Phillip, the doctor finally told me that he had more smoke damage than I did. The doctors believe that because he carried me out of the building, he breathed in more smoke than me.

In other words, it's my fault Phillip is in the hospital.

I played with my fingers, slightly kicking my feet as I waited for my doctor to come back. It was getting harder and harder to distract myself from wondering if Phillip was okay. As I failed to distract myself, I could feel my father watching me.

"Go ahead," I sighed as I finally stopped playing with my fingers and looked up at him.

"What?" He asked.

"Say it," I said, struggling to fight the tears. "This is exactly why you don't want me and Phillip dating. It causes too much drama and makes us not think things through. He shouldn't have run into that building without thinking. If he had waited. . ."

"Y/N," my father interrupted. He stood up and walked over, sitting next to me. He reached over and grabbed my hand. "Sweetheart, I was wrong to forbid you and Phillip from dating."

"What?" I stuttered, completely taken back by his comment.

"Honey," he sighed. "It's clear that he genuinely cares about you. And it's clear that you feel the same towards him. The real reason I didn't want the two of you getting involved wasn't because I was worried about the show or the other performers. It was because I was worried he'd hurt you. I'm your father, Y/N. My job is to protect you and keep you safe until the right guy comes around. But after seeing Phillip run into a burning building and risk his life to save you. . . I'd be a lucky man if the boy who wanted to take my daughter away was willing to risk his life for her."

"Dad," I said under my breath. "What are you saying?"

"Y/N," he hesitated, "if you still want to date Phillip, I wholeheartedly support it."

"Really?"

My dad smiled as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. He reached up and ran his fingers through my hair.

"Go get him, pumpkin."

                                * * * * *

I walked past the other beds, my heart jumping into my throat as I got closer to Phillip. When I was standing at the end of his bed, my breath got stuck in my throat. I struggled to hold in my sob as I sat next to him, taking in his smoke-covered face.

"I'm so sorry," I said, my voice breaking. "This. . . This is all my fault. If it weren't for me. . ."

I couldn't hold in my sob any longer as I reached down and grabbed his hand in mine. Tears silently streamed down my face as I held his hand. My breath got stuck in my throat when I felt him tighten his grip on my hand.

"Phillip?" I stuttered. I held my breath as his eyes slowly fluttered open. When he looked at me, my sob got caught in my throat.

"Y/N?" He said, his voice soft and weak.

"Hi," I whispered.

I looked into his eyes, tears filling mine. I opened and closed my mouth, stuttering to find the right words. I sighed as I gave up and decided to do something impulsive.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed his face and leaned down, pressing my lips to his. I thought he'd hesitate to kiss me back, but he didn't. I fluttered my eyes closed as he started kissing me back.

When neither of us could breathe, Phillip broke the kiss. We stared into each other's eyes as we caught our breaths.

"What about your dad?" He whispered.

"He's okay," I said gently.

"What?"

I let out a small giggle at his confused look. I reached down and moved some of his hair out of his face.

"My dad changed his mind about you," I chuckled.

"He no longer thinks I'm a player?" Phillip laughed.

"Nope," I said, unable to wipe my smile from my face.

"I guess running into a burning building wasn't that stupid."

"Oh no," I chuckled. "That was pretty stupid."

Phillip reached up and cupped my cheek in his hand. He let out a small laugh as he studied my face. I grabbed his hand that was holding my face and intertwined our fingers together.

"You're worth doing something stupid for."

[struggling-with-time]

SBI Racing AU Headcanon

Paring: SBI Family

Summary: Racing headcanon for how the family of 4 adrenaline junkies function.

Warnings: Fluff, racing au

Words: 1.6K

Masterlist: SBI Masterlist - Wilbur's Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Racing AU brain rot, lets goooo. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Request here.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Let’s get this on the road, ha road get it, anyway

Phil is a retired F1 driver, having had his years on the road chasing the adrenaline high.

He now helps out in Techno’s shop as a mechanic. While working for the nearby racing ring, he claims it’s to make sure nobody gets hurt too badly. In reality, everyone knows it’s because he misses racing himself.

Phil was forced to stop after an injury that left him with a bad knee, a true old man, according to his youngest son, Tommy.

Phil is a now single father, raising his three sons, that are all seeking adrenaline the same way as him. Which horrifies him.

Because if there is one thing Phil is never going to forget from having been behind the wheel in some of the fastest cars, is the absolute high he got from it.

He had to get the nickname Angel of Death from somewhere.

While the man has a calm and nurturing aura when met for the first time, don’t be deceived. The second he gets drunk on speed, and high of the sound. He is nowhere near calm.

Phil is a horrifying force behind the wheel, having multiple track records still standing around the world from before the accident. Not to mention an even longer list of crashes that was potentially his fault. But if you ask the man, nothing was ever proven.

Phil drives a stick shift, specifically a stick shift Chevy Camaro. His children likes to call him an old man for the stick shift.

Techno, Phils second oldest son, and his pride and joy if you ask Wilbur.

Techno can do it all, he’s a mechanic, owns his own shop, where in Phil helps out. In said shop, Techno also does the upkeep on his own car.

He does only illegal racing, the man isn’t the greatest with rules, and legalities when it comes to the legal parts of racing.

Not to mention Phil would have his head if he even tried walking the same path as him. So illegal street racing with his dad cheering him on it is.

(Phil did have a lot of problems in the beginning with Technos seemingly endless craving for the adrenaline. But he over time warmed up to the idea it was better Techno races under Phils wings, than sneaking out and making it more dangerous, than the past time already is.)

Techno does all his car upkeeps by himself, esspcially because the car wasn’t only sponsored by himself, but Phil did give him some money from his own days for the car. A Ford GT in red.

He is known famously as the Blade, but infamously as The Blood God. That red Ford GT leaves nightmares and losers in the dust.

Techno has yet to lose any races, always on top of his game.

Much to the dismay of Dream, the guy who is forever stuck in the 2nd position right behind him.

Technos racing style is known for being aggressive, but for those who have raced him, knows nothing is impulsive. Every single move is highly calculated and precise.

Techno is a college dropout, with the support of Phil and his family. Unlike Wilbur.

Wilbur is the oldest of the three children. The only one who went and completed college. Earning a degree but ended up back home.

Because to him there never was nothing like the nights him and Techno would sneak out to join the racing ring.

Despite Phils insistence that his oldest doesn’t have to be behind a wheel. Wilbur feels no other place quite fits him like that.

Phil knows how Wilbur drives. Because he taught him how to do so himself. Due to Techno just being 1 year younger than Wilbur. The year being enough for Techno to having cleaned up Wilburs mistakes when he ages a year.

Leading to Wilbur, still like Techno, having an aggressive driving style. But unlike Technos nothing about it is refined or precise. Wilbur is an absolute terror behind the wheel. A madman some have called him.

Because like his dad and younger brother. Wilbur craves the adrenaline. And he will do whatever it takes to get it.

So he races, always never first, always just close by. The oldest yet standing in the shadow of his younger brother.

Leading to unlike Techno, Wilburs pride and joy, is their youngest brother. Tommy.

But a close second would be his car, a vintage 1969 corvette stingray. That much to his dismay is mostly upkept by Techno, for while Wilbur is good on the track, he cannot fix a thing on his car alone.

Meaning Techno and Wilbur sometimes have long nights just bonding in Technos workshop, fixing their cars, talking about races, and talking about their starry-eyed younger brother Tommy.

A loud-mouthed blonde, that has been banned from getting behind a wheel. Phil taught him how to drive far too young. Leading to Tommy teaching his friend group how to as well.

And Phil is so not letting the flock of 4 adrenaline junkies with the name of Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Purpled anywhere near the racetrack in any form of car. Phil would very much like to not die of a heart attack.

The group of 4 however had made it their mission to prove Phil wrong, that they should in fact race. Because according to Tommy.

“They are the biggest men” And deserve the glory that comes with that.

Phil still refuses, however, he has provided the four with an old Volkswagen from 2007, that has all the safety it needs, but no plates. A small insurance for Phil, hoping the 4 can be satisfied in cruising in it around the area behind Technos shop.

All this meaning, that while Tommy has his license, he has no car. And neither does his friends. Not that any of them would ever let him drive any of their cars if that had.

Tommy is a speed demon, and much to the dismay of his father and brother. He is as much of an adrenaline junkie as them.

So the when the rest of the family pulls up in their cool cars.

Tommy pulls up on his red Big Man Puch Maxi. Named after the crudely drawn Big Man made in black spray paint over the side. Of course filled with attributes to the people he cares about.

A drawn bee made by Tubbo, who helped him paint it red.

A crown in black and white from Ranboo, who helps him fix and repair it. Ranboo works as an apprentice in Technos shop.

A purple alien face from Purpled, whose brother Punz also drives in the racing ring.

A flag, more specifically the Logo of L’Manberg. Wilburs car. Because as he says.

“All the important things have flags.”

The sticker and design was made by the two, who sat up all night in their garage at home. Wilbur rambling on for hours about the colour meanings and how important flags and recognition is. Techno had ended up joining them after midnight, mostly listening, but sometimes adding his own 5 cents into either the conversation, or a quick piece of advice. That the hard-working brother always seemed to listen to.

So when Phil found the 3 passed out in the garage, and all he did was find pillows and blankets for them. Who is to blame that he ended up taking photos of them.

A sword, to signify his older brother Techno.

And lastly a pair of black wings, to signify the only Man. His dad Phil.

While the 4 of the minors are chaos in person, they certainly are so too when they play around in the car. Tommy driving, Tubbo as his co-pilot and stick manager. Ranboo behind Tubbo. Ranboo usually being the voice of reason, whenever he isn’t drowned out by Purpled, who sits behind Tommy, irking them on to go faster.

The 4 of them also having started what they call a biker gang, in reality it’s just them on their old Puch Maxis.

And Tommy, oh Tommy.

Tommy likes to run his mouth, especially in front of Dream, the number 2 in the racing ring. Unlike his brother Wilbur.

Wilbur has a silver tongue unlike anyone else, that convince nearly everyone, that he did in fact not nearly make the other driver crash. Because like his father, he has a long list of things that can't be proven to be his fault.

Tommy has offered Dream to race the man so many times everyone lost count after the 7th try. Not that Dream doesn’t want to shut the teenager up. More so because he is afraid of his father.

Everyone knows Techno never loses, but that runs in the family. Phil has never lost a match, even in the stick shift that he drives now. Getting into a match with him is an automatic lose, and Dream has too much pride for that.

So there on racing ring stands Phil with his 3 sons, as much of adrenaline junkies as himself, and while it isn’t the most orthodoxic family, it certain is his. And he can’t help but be proud of them. Even if his youngest and oldest is currently yelling “suck it green boy” after Techno has beat him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[ot7stan4life]

My Kpop Girl Group Imagines/Oneshots:

🔮 Dreamcatcher

“It’s Not Wrong”

(1 part - ongoing ⚠️)

🔮 Dreamcatcher (OT7) x Female Reader

Summary: As the 8th member of Dreamcatcher, you struggle with your growing attraction towards your members, because, in your mind, loving seven different people isn’t natural and couldn’t possibly be considered acceptable by any normal human being… so why would they be okay with it?

Click here to read

“Happy Birthday”

(1 part - ongoing ⚠️)

🔮 Dreamcatcher (OT7) x Female Reader

Summary: As the 8th member of Dreamcatcher, being in a relationship with the entire group makes for some very chaotic and gay surprises on your birthday.

Click here to read

“Daydream”

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐤 Sua x Female Reader

Summary: On your day alone in the dorm, you make the foolish decision of fantasizing about your older member and get carried away, not realizing she was coming home early.

Click here to read

“I Want You” (Sua ver.)

*Requested*

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐤 Sua x Female Reader

Summary: Knowing you’re listening to their voice vlive, the unnie line decides to tease you by talking about how good you look in your stage outfit. It doesn’t take long for you to cave and walk over to their room with your own plan in mind to get them back… or, at least one of them.

Click here to read

“Maison”

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐺 Siyeon x Female Reader

Summary: After a concert in your home country, you are reminded of the sacrifices you were forced to make to become an idol and begin to doubt your decision. All it takes is a warm embrace and a few comforting words from one of the women you love to remind you that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Click here to read

“Haunted”

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐱 Handong x Female Reader

Summary: You end up getting drunk at a Halloween party because you can’t seem to escape the ghost of your ex. The moment you feel you’re most alone, your overbearing and painfully sarcastic ‘babysitter’ who is also technically (but not actually) your dad’s girlfriend comes to your rescue.

Click here to read

“Drunk-Dazed”

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐶 Yoohyeon x Female Reader

Summary: Being a member in the debut lineup for HFE/Dreamcatcher Company’s new girl group is stressful for a number of reasons, but your increasingly complicated feelings for a certain tall brunette from your senior group rapidly becomes the main one when you’re shoved into a dark room to find her unbuttoning her shirt…

Click here to read

“Always”

*Requested*

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐶 Yoohyeon x Female Reader

Summary: One night, you’re walking home from campus when you hear someone following you. Things escalate quickly and before you know it a strange man has you pinned against the wall with his fist around your throat. You manage to get loose but not far when he lands a punch to your face, sending you to the concrete. Little did he know, drawing blood was the rescue call you needed when a motorcycle pulls up in front of you.

Click here to read

“I Want You” (Dami ver.)

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐼 Dami x Female Reader

Summary: After you’re forced to watch for half an hour on the sidelines as Dami’s photographed in her Calvin Klein sports bra and denim jacket, you can’t help but take out your sexual frustrations on her when you’re finally alone… even if that means interrupting her vlive.

Click here to read

“First Kiss”

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐰🐶 Jiu & Yoohyeon x Female Reader

Summary: In between tour stops, you decide to spend your leisurely time in Jiu and Yoohyeon’s hotel room. What you weren’t expecting was to end up having your first kiss unknowingly stolen by an impulsive oreo-haired member and your second by a surprisingly unphased leader.

Click here to read

“My Comfort”

*Requested*

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐰🐼 Jiu & Dami x Female Reader

Summary: Just as you and your 7 members are getting set on stage to perform at an award show, you start to have a panic attack. Minji and Yubin pull you backstage to help you through it.

Click here to read

“Small Things”

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐺🐶🦊 Siyeon, Yoohyeon, & Gahyeon x Female Reader

Summary: a cute fluffy moment between you and three of your fellow group members during a day off between tour stops.

Click here to read

🌗 Loona

“Risk It All”

(1 part - ongoing ⚠️)

🦢 Yves x Female Reader

Summary: You are a Korean solo artist and Yves is your manager. One day, something unexpected happens that finally makes you realize just how important she is to you.

Click here to read

“The Fallen Angel”

*Requested*

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐺 Olivia Hye x Female Reader

Summary: *Loonaverse short story*

Olivia Hye, an angel created in Heejin's image, was inherently corrupted upon conception: half of her heart filled with purity and the other half cursed with sin. The only way for her to break free from the ignorant bliss of Eden is to partake of the Forbidden Fruit and gain knowledge of the Loonaverse. But, in order to do that, she must learn to love the dark part of herself first.

What happens when a strange girl appears in Eden and makes Olivia Hye begin to question everything she's ever known?

Will Olivia still be able to accept the corruption within her or will it consume the only remaining light in her heart?

"After all, Lucifer was a Fallen Angel"

Click here to read

“Not Friends”

(1 part - completed ✅)

🐟 Jinsoul x Female Reader

Summary: You and Jinsoul are rival assassins working under the same boss. You devise a plan to take him down and he decides to send Jinsoul to take you out.

Click here to read

**This will be updated as I post more imagines. All imagines were transferred over from my Wattpad account OT5Stan4Life**

[cloudy-leonhart]

AOT Characters with a filipino S/O!

[Author Note: I just made this out of impulse lol, I’ll make a part two with the AOT veterans- if it’s requested then I’ll make a part three with the Marley Warriors- feedback is also appreciated on all my posts :))]

[Summary: It’s just headcanons, AOT with a filipino S/O lol, that’s it. that’s the post.]

Recommended song: Sa Susunod Na Lang - Skusta Clee ft. Yuri.

Gender Neutral Reader.

Theme: Fluff, Modern AU.

TW: Swearing.

Characters: Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Marco, Connie, Sasha.

Eren Jaeger

He probably fucks up his greetings with your parents, surprisingly your dad loves him, both of them talk about basketball and boxing, whenever Many does a fight, you and him come over so Eren could watch with you dad.

This man gets bodied by your dad ALL THE TIME during basketball, it’s valid because your dad used to be a basketball player.

He eats with his hands, yes he also got that from your dad. Your mom always comes up to you, while Eren and your dad talk, she’s happy that you found someone, and that Eren reminds her a lot of your dad.

Mans swallows rice like it was no one’s business, he eats that shit with barbecue and vinegar. 

You can’t tell me he gets drunk with your dad and his friends?? They watch boxing matches and eat peanut while drinking beer.

For some reason he acts like he lives there?? Like the whole community knows about him, the kids like playing with him, the guys like doing karaoke and drinking beer with them, and the titas and lolas love talking about your relationship with him and how they would totally marry a guy like that if they ever met someone like that when they were younger.

His favourite thing about the culture? Probably how open the people were, they were very generous and kind.

Armin Arlert

When you first told him, he was kind of like, “okay??” but he also took time out of his day to research your culture, he’s the type to catch you in a sad mood where you really miss your country, and take time out of his day to try his best to make food from your culture.

He’s mastered to cook Tofu Sisig and Halo-Halo. You always ask him to make it for you whenever you’re sad.

He could never understand how your family’s able to sit in your traditional clothing, he tries his hardest not to scratch, he literally looks at you with a look begging for help because he was itchy but he didn’t want to take it off.

You had to explain that he doesn’t always have to participate in your culture, because respecting your culture was enough for you. Mans cried because he thought he was horrible for not wearing the Barong for the whole ceremony.

He does loves trying filipino recipes, he loves seeing you cook adobo or tapsilog in the morning, it just fills the house with an amazing aroma.

he knows how to say ‘i love you’ in Tagalog and he has fully replaced ‘I love you’ with ‘Mahal Kita.’ 

Favourite thing about the culture? The language, he just loves learning new words everyday, his favourite saying so far is, “Huwag kang mag-alala. Akong bahala.” (Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.)

Mikasa Ackerman

Poor baby was confused, she caught you talking on the phone in another language and she just stared concerningly at you, forgetting about whatever she’s doing.

She was also afraid to try your food?? Until you shove a ube-filled riceball (in filipino, Buchi) in her mouth, she ends up making it her comfort food, she asks you to make Buchi with her, she likes to eat the left over filling.

she actually wants to keep trying some of your culture’s food, her favourites so far is definitely Taho and Kaldereta, and of course Buchi.

She can’t say much in tagalog but she does know traditions, she did the binasuan dance with you once, amazingly she kept all cups in balance for her first time.

She knows how bless and actually calls people tita and tito, or ate and kuya. She was kind of, ahem, convinced, to call your parents nanay and tatay.

Your parents always complain about how you haven’t married Mikasa yet, Mikasa was confused about why she could hear them talking about her, but you reassured her that it was only just your parents egging you to marry Mikasa. In which she blushed in return.

Mikasa also learns recipes from Armin, those two cook for ther S/O’s so much that even their S/O feel like their not filipino enough, they got to try things even they didn’t know filipino culture had.

Jean Kirstein

SUPRISINGLY, he knows what blessing is, went as far as saying “Mano po.” whenever he did.

 your dad hates him for some reason lmfao like your dad’s always staring at him with a weird expression.

He’s scared of your dad, no cap. first time you guys went on a date and didn’t have a house together, he almost shit himself talking to your dad.

You tried to teach him to do the tinikling dance and he almost broke his leg.

You and your parents conversed by yelling at each other, like Sasha, he too thought that you were arguing with them and he tapped you on the shoulder like, “Should I leave?-” You were confused as he was, you had to explain that yelling was a way filipinos communicated.

He was concerned when you would hit him while laughing, you also had to explain that was also something most filipino’s communicated.

He tried picking the language up but he just butchers the pronunciation.

Favourite thing about your culture is the places, if he could he probably would’ve bought a private island.

Does this man know how to cook filipino food?? Yessir!! He’s absolute god at cooking, imagine when he finds out we have a whole CHEESE ice cream-

Mans was confused confused, why..would you like cheese ice cream?? surprisingly he likes the ice cream, it’s sweet and salty??

Connie Springer

THIS MAN- he thought filipino was a sexuality?? when you told him, he’s like “so, what gender do you prefer then?” 

HE WAS DUMBFOUNDED WHEN HE FOUND OUT WHAT FILIPINO MEANT-

I just know he shared filipino swears with Sasha, he actually grew accustomed to them, once in a while you’ll hear, ‘PUTANGINA’ throughout the house, because he stubbed his toe.

ugh he rocked the barong too, AND HE ROCKED HIS TINIKLING DANCE.

your titas seemed to love him?? Every time you talk to them, they ask if he’s doing okay.

He actually is a simp for filipinos, he was awestruck with how much beautiful women and men there were in the Philippines.

you cannot tell me this man doesn’t watch Manny Paqcuiao’s boxing fights.

In general he tries his best to respect your culture and not disrespect them, but he cannot bless for the life of him.

favourite thing about your culture is the adobo, he says its “bussin’”.

He drinks with your titos and your dad. No way he doesn’t, he also plays basketball with them.

traumatized somehow by the naked children running down the street sometimes- Filipino streets man, a little too comfortable-

He was shocked to find out that some people showered outside?? Like comfortably?

Man covers his whole face bc he feels like a perv.

Marco Bodt

Absolute researcher in your culture, like Armin, he actually makes sure he’s not disrespecting it or anything.

HE DOES THE BLESS GESTURE, but he whispers in your ear about how he accidentally blessed one of your titas too hard

his favourite filipino dish is Buko Pandan, he literally couldn’t help but get seconds when your grandma offered him a cup.

tbh he rocked his barong, he looked so good, like GAH DAYUM.

he picked up some words since he really loved being around your family, you were lively and your family was so open to accepting him.

you and him danced in a barong and baro’t saya for your wedding reception.

genuinely, he was in fearful awe when you caught a rat your parents have been complaining about in their house, remind you rats in the Philippines are as big as kittens 

He also calls you Mahal, it’s kinda cringey but you thought it was cute.

Favourite part of your culture, the clothing, he’s always asking to go to parties just so he can wear the barong.

he’s also deathly afraid of the bodies of water the Philippines has, he doesn’t know if murky water scares him more than clear water in the islands.

Mans tried his best to corporate your culture into your guys’ wedding, until your Tito Philip brought a WHOLE ASS LIVE CHICKEN as a wedding gift?!

he was kinda sad y’all didn’t keep the chicken.

Sasha Braus

Sasha honestly didn’t know that your were filipino until you spoke your language with a family member, you guys were yelling at each other and Sasha thought y’all were fighting-

she wants to learn the language BUT ONLY THE SWEARS, connie and her both.

she loves when you speak to her in your langauge, she loves guessing what you’re telling her. SHE ALSO LOVES WHEN UR PARENTS TRY TO SPEAK TO HER AND THEIR ACCENTS COME OUT.

you guys actually went to the Philippines for your guys’ honeymoon. did she almost spend all your money? yes, did you let her? duh.

Her most favourite thing about your culture is definitely the food, and beautiful people like you.

Genuinely rocks the Baro’t Saya, her short hair goes well with the dress, her colour was a dullish-pastel pink, she had a matching fan with it too! 

She wore it for your birthday, almost ruined it by almost spilling fruit salad on it.

THIS WOMAN- SHE WAS LITERALLY CRYING TEARS OF JOY WHEN SOMEONE BROUGHT OUT THE LECHON (a whole roasted pig).

Yes, she almost ate half of it, she would’ve probably finished it if it weren’t for her eating everything else, a human compost bin, you got leftovers? She’ll eat em.

She loved going to Jollibee with you, you and her have dates where you literally eat almost everything off the menu.

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Informant (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing much! Flirting, mentions of voyeurism(?), drinking, hangovers. 

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: Bit more background this week, not that exciting but some fun moments with Javi and Steve. Alternative title: Meeting your killer and flirting with the boss ENJOY

<-- Previous Chapter  // MasterList //  Next Chapter -->

---

Two months passed quickly and you were settled in well. You were comfortable in your job; you, Javi and Steve made a great team and you were learning a lot from the both of them. You tried to avoid interacting with Carrillo directly where possible, he was still as icy about you as your first meeting. You met Steve’s wife, Connie, and became fast friends with her. She had become one of your closest friends, and a welcome break from the machismo that radiated from your two teammates.

You had even managed to make a few friends outside of work. You met María Parreño at the cafe you visited nearly everyday for lunch. What started out as a little wave, now was lunch together nearly everyday, and the occasional shopping trip at the weekend. María was a sweet girl, funny and very sly when she wanted to be. 

You were careful, giving a fake name and lying about your job. You could never be too careful in Colombia. Plus, with how rich her family were you wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed paths with one of them during your investigation into Escobar’s dealings. So, Maria knew you as Isabela Serrano, you worked in the American embassy on the phones. You had lived in the USA for ten years, hence the accent, and moved back to Medellin after your abuela died. María didn’t take much convincing. 

You enjoyed her company. It was a lot nicer to have a conversation about books you’d both been reading over nice food, than trying to eat over photos of blood crime scenes. Plus, the coffee here didn’t taste like soap. 

“Isabela, can I tell you something,” María turned to you, set her cutlery down and looked over at you seriously.. Puzzled, you put down your drink and smiled.

“Of course, you can tell me anything,” 

“Diego got a new job,” 

Diego was María’s boyfriend. Her father’s mechanic. A total cliché, her father had forbidden them to date but she did it anyway just to piss him off. You didn’t know much about Diego, you’d only met him once or twice in passing when he came to pick his girlfriend up  from a shopping trip. 

“You’re saying that like it's something scandalous,” You laughed nervously, “What? Has he become a stripper?”

“He’s working for Escobar,” She whispered. 

“What?” You nearly choked your coffee in shock. You set it down on the table carefully and leant in a little to listen to her, not believing what she said. It was not an impossible thing, lots of people worked for him in lots of different capacities. You hadn’t expected it so close to home.

“I know! That’s what I said!” She said, “He came home the other night saying he got this new job doing something for Pablo! I said Pablo who, I know lots of Pablo’s. The man just looked at me like I was an idiot! Pablo fucking Escobar!”

“What does he do?” You asked, you had to know how dangerous this could be for you. Or how helpful this could be, you thought. Being close to someone close to Escobar could be invaluable.

“Escobar?” Maria asked.

“No! What does Diego do for him?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “He said something to do with cars,” You relaxed a little at that. Escobar’s mechanic was not a very useful lead. 

You glanced down at your watch and sighed. Your hour was up. Just as you had got to something useful! 

“Shoot I’m sorry María I’ve got to head back to work,” You drank down the last of your coffee quickly and stood up. “But you’ll keep me updated with this Escobar business right? It’s just all so exciting!” You put down your share of the bill on the table and threw on your jacket.

“Of course!” María smiled, “One of Diego’s friends is having a party! You should come!”

“I’ll be there,” You nodded, “Same time Saturday?”

“See you then!” 

Before you left the café you bought two coffees to go for Murphy and Pena as a way of apology for being late back. You had promised to be out less than an hour as Pena had important things he needed to go over with you and Murphy. By the time you got back, he had already started explaining the new information to Murphy in a conference room.

“Then we have-,” Javi was speaking as you walked in carrying coffee for the two men. You instantly recognised the face in the photograph and interrupted him.

“Diego Castillo,” You said. The two men turned to you, confused. Unfazed you passed them  the cups and sat down next to Murphy on the end of the table.

“How’d you know that?” Steve asked. 

“I know him. Or rather his girlfriend,” 

“What?” Steve nearly choked on his drink at your confession.  

“I didn’t think I had to tell y’all everything I do in my spare time,” You laughed.

“Hanging out with Narcos would have good to tell us,” 

“He’s not a Narco, he fixes Escobar’s cars! He’s not anyone important. It’s chill,” You waved him off. He was being ridiculous, ”Besides I’m friends with his girlfriend who has no idea what’s going on. I’ve met him maybe twice” You explained, “María’s a sweetheart, we talk about romance novels and go shopping!”

“Castillo doesn’t fix the cars. He runs the whole road operation,” Javier said. Your jaw dropped.

“Well shit,” 

“Anything else you wanna share?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t know but Monday I might,” You sipped on your coffee before continuing, “I got invited to a party, I was going anyway but-.”

“No, no you can’t go now we know who he is,” He exclaimed.

“This could be invaluable!”

“You’re not allowed to have an informant,” 

“It’s not an informant if I am the one with the info!” You argued.

“Javi? Gunna chime in at any point?” Steve turned to his partner, desperate for some help as you had already spiralled far enough on this idea. You turned to Javi with a determined look.

“They don't know my name, they don’t know where I work,” You explained rapidly, “I know what I am doing, just trust me, please?” 

“Fine,” Javier broke easily. The idea made sense.

“What the fuck! Javi she-,” 

“She’s right. Neither of us is going to ever get that close and she’s new here, people don’t know her and you said you gave them a fake name?” Pena explained, you nodded, “Technically she won’t be breaking any rules if she’s the one feeding us information directly,” 

“If anyone finds out-“ 

“No one will find out, it stays between us, in this room,” Javier said gravely, “I trust you Y/n,” 

You smiled and nodded, a sense of pride washing over you. Steve muttered and grumbled under his breath but he didn’t outwardly complain so the decision was made. You were going to feed information you found out through Maria to the DEA, going undercover. Nobody had ever mentioned no undercover work, the idea of sending a rookie into that kind of situation was insane, but you wouldn’t be technically breaking any rules. 

--

The party was a bust. There was nothing of interest apart from the attendee’s themselves. Everybody was civil, there was no talk of business- as explicitly called for by the hosts, and apart from one fight between two guys over a soccer match there really was nothing to report. You spent the evening with Maria and her friends, drinking and dancing. Having a good time. 

They were decent enough people if you ignored the way they all got their wealth. A little hard to relate too at times- you didn’t have a private jet or a house with a huge pool but Maria’s friends were surprisingly friendly and once the jokes about being a gringa were out the way they seemed to like you. 

There was no information but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a well worth evening. You had their trust now. That would be invaluable moving forward. 

--

It was payday. Everyone you worked with was going out for the evening to let loose. You were with a large group of people from the office. Some you recognised, some you didn’t but either way you were having a great time chatting to people. The alcohol was cheap, the music was great and the company was perfect. Nobody here complained that their dad wouldn’t let them import Italian handbags anymore or that their pool wasn’t big enough. You felt much more at home here, amongst peers and friends.

After a few hours of chatting to people, you retreated to a table with Javier and Steve. Eventually even Steve left, leaving just you and Javi alone. You were drunk, no other word for it. Your eyes were heavy, a grin plastered on your face and you swayed in your seat to the music listening to Javi talk. 

You rested your hand on your head and watched Javier for a moment. He looked very handsome, as he did nearly every day. He wore a blue jean jacket, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top showing off his tan skin. You watched as he smoked a cigarette, watching girls at the bar. A pang of jealousy hit your chest, you wondered if you weren’t sitting here as his rookie if you would catch his attention. Before you could think, you asked the question aloud. 

“If I was just a random girl in the bar, would you hit on me?” You asked, sipping your drink.

“I’m not answering that!” Javier laughed, “I know you,”

“I’m hot! Why wouldn’t you?” You exclaimed, “Hot girls not your type?”

“You’re not my type,” Javier corrected you. You gasped dramatically.

“I’m taking offence to that! Your type is anything that breathes,”

“You think so little of me,” He shook his head solemnly.

“Baby I’ve known you for months now. You don’t have a type!” 

“Baby?” Javi smirked at you. 

“Shut up I’m drunk,” You dismissed him. 

“Well what if I ask the same question to you?”

“Would I hit on me? Absolutely!” You exclaimed.

“No! Would you hit on me?” 

“Nah,” You shook your head and screwed up your nose.

“Liar!”

“Am not!”

“Come on don’t pretend like you wouldn’t,” He said, “You’d be all over me,” The energy shifted as he looked at you. Immediate eye contact, his dark eyes looked you over quickly drawing you into him. He leant forward slightly as he readjusted himself on the chair and brushed his bottom lip with his thumb drawing your attention to them. Your breath hitched, lips parted and your eyes flickered to his lips. Was he going to kiss you? Suddenly he broke the eye contact and laughed, settling back in his chair. “See! You would,”

Dazed you shook your head and cleared your throat. Javi smiled smugly.“No, No! That's not fair! You being smoother than fucking peanut butter doesn’t mean I would hit on you if I saw you! You’re old and grumpy looking, I like my men young and energetic,”

“So I heard,” He said as he tipped his drink into his mouth.

“Hey! That’s gross,” You exclaimed when you finally realised what he meant.

“Goes both ways, Baby, if you can hear me I can hear you,”

“So you listen to me fuck?” You countered. Javi choked on his drink.

“N-no I-,” Javi stuttered ands tumbled over his words, blushing slightly

“You do! Dirty bastard!” You exclaimed. “Do you get off to it?” You asked, quieter now leaning in closer to him. Javi didn’t reply, taking a gulp of beer and breaking your eye contact. You laughed again, “Javier Peña speechless! Wow! Pretty sure I can retire now and I’d be happy,”

“I’m getting another drink,” He grumbled, getting up from the table.

“Tequila please, Baby!” You called after him. 

—

You woke up with the worst hangover you had ever felt. Before you really opened your eyes you darted to the bathroom to throw up. You groaned into the toilet bowl, annoyed at yourself more than anything that you had gotten so drunk. You didn’t remember coming home, didn’t remember leaving the bar. The last thing you remembered was sitting with Javi drinking tequila like it was water. The memory made you gag again, how did he ever get you to drink tequila?

You padded into your tiny kitchen to get a glass of water, and start your usual fix all hangover cure. Salted chips and Coca Cola. The sugar and salt combination would do wonders and had saved you multiple times after a heavy night before training back home. You found a bag of chips in the cupboard but no cola. In fact, your fridge was practically empty, bar an old jar of salsa that you were pretty sure had been sitting there since before you arrived in Colombia. The idea of having to go out to the shop made you want to cry. You rested your head on the fridge door and groaned as another pulse shot through your skull. Then you had an idea, the Murphy’s would probably have some! 

You could tolerate seeing other humans at least for a few minutes. So you pulled a pair of shorts on and a vaguely clean t-shirt, took your keys and went across the hall to your favourite couple. The hallway was bright as sunlight streamed through the open window, you winced and shielded your eyes. You knocked twice on the door, the established knock for friends, and took deep breaths as you tried to not give into the need to throw up again. After a moment, Connie opened the door, a wide grin on her face when she saw your fragile state.

“Good night?” She teased you. You frowned and pouted at her.

“Remind me never to go out with Javi alone ever again,  I can’t remember leaving that bar,” You groaned. “Do you have any pain killers? And some cola,”

“Cola?”

“Yeah. Cola and salted chips, the best hangover cure. Got the chips but no cola and the idea of going outside today makes me want to off myself,”

“Come on in I’ll see what I’ve got. The boys are in there,” She let you into the apartment and disappeared into the kitchen. Javi and Steve sat on the couch watching TV in the living room, the noise made you wince.

“Afternoon Rookie,” Steve greeted you smugly. You grimaced and leant on the arm of the couch next to him.

“What's the score?” You asked, watching the soccer match on screen for a few moments. 

“3-3,” Steve answered.

“I’ve got Pepsi, that's okay?” Connie called from the kitchen. 

“Yeah! Anything’s fine,” You called back.

“Can’t you go buy yourself cola instead of stealing mine?” Steve complained.

“Your wife said I could have it Murphy, suck it up,” You shove his shoulder weakly, “Besides, I’m pretty sure if I step into direct sunlight I’ll burn to ash. I’m taking your cola and retreating to my bed,”

“What did you two even get up to after I left?” 

“Ask him, I cannot remember,” you laughed. 

Javi looked up briefly, took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged. He looked as rough as you felt. Neither of you had come out particularly well.

“Here you go sweetheart,” Connie returned to the living room with a bottle of Pepsi in her hand and a small box of painkillers.

“You’re a star Connie what would I do without you,” You stood up from the couch and took the items from your friend. “Later boys,”

“See ya Monday Rookie!” Steve called after you. 

Next Chapter -->

--

oop Rookie and Javi flirting?!? Could never. Also coming next week this ish is getting a whole lot angstier again. I can never keep things nice for long haha

Tagging:  @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh @itsaisopodkillmepls​ @urbankaite2​ @whataloadofmalarkey​ @ahsofka​​ @yeetus-my-feetus​ @sara-alonso​ @lesbianlena​ @xiao-lusi​ @all-good-things-have-an-ending​ @eternallyvenus​ @ajeff855 @mayangel19​ @1950schick​