#got v v shitty news at the start of the week but this saved it and i just . i just !

[milflewis]

i get to hold a baby tomorrow. taps the mic. hello is this thing on i get to hold a baby tomorrow are you hearing me i get to

[chelseeebe]

promise.

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved?

a/n: ok i’ve been a bit shit the last few weeks and this is genuinely the only thing i could conjure up but forewarning, it is sad and it does mention some pretty heavy topics that i know aren’t for everyone so i completely understand if u don’t want to read! my adhd riddled brain has already started a part two which does have a happy ending

title based on promise - ben howard i just thought it was a really lovely song and fits well with part two

read part two here.

18+. mdni! mentions of domestic violence, not explicitly described but the injuries are there and it is referred to multiple times throughout (eddie is not the perpetrator). smut. v much hurt/no comfort but not for long.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

eddie is positively wrecked.

who would have ever guessed working in a shoddy, run-down bar would be so fucking tiring?

graham had said that if he picked up a few shifts at the hideout a week, then corroded coffin could play once a month. a guaranteed slot and he got paid? this was like heaven to him.

he just hadn’t expected the little bar to be so exhausting. he supposes that his lack of work experience and the fact he was used to doing sweet fuck all most of the time was to blame. that’s not his fault. not really. after finally graduating high school a year or so ago, he just hadn’t found any work in the tiny town.

on one particularly boring mid-week shift, eddie’s sat behind the bar doodling on the back of an old receipt, tapping his foot along to the kiss tune playing on the stereo. wouldn’t be his first choice but he’s not complaining.

‘you coming for a smoke?’ you exclaim suddenly, causing his head to jolt up, running the biro over his shitty drawing, ruining it completely.

‘uh.. then who would be on the bar?’ he utters, quickly hiding the doodle before you could judge it. not that he thinks you would, but just in case.

‘eddie, it’s dead,’ you say flatly, looking around at the empty tables.

truth be told, he hadn’t seen another soul bar from you and graham since he’d arrived which was odd for a thursday. assuming that the usual bums that lined the dusty old stools were otherwise engaged today. that or they just hadn’t been paid yet.

‘oh.. yeah, okay,’ he nods, hopping down from the stool and grabbing his jacket. you’re already gone, bounding off down the hall to the fire exit you all used for smoke breaks.

eddie’s still fairly new and very rarely got invited on the group breaks. which was fine, he just wished that you’d all take it in turns so that he could smoke too. he gets it though, like he talks enough but yet not enough to really make friends with any of you.

you’re leaning back against the brick wall, cigarette hanging from your lips, ‘you got a lighter?’

it’s not like he’d been staring or thought about it that much, but he’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were on his second shift. okay, maybe that’s a lie. he’d thought about it a lot. but anyway, he’d been utterly in awe at the way you handled the drunks, brushed off their creepy comments and stood your ground no matter how angry or persistent they were being. he admired that and just wished that he had even a smidgen of the confidence you had.

he fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, clumsily handing it over before getting his own pack out. it feels wrong to look you in the eye, god that sounded pathetic. you were older, far cooler than he was and positively stunning. if he remembers correctly, you must’ve been a couple grades above him at school but had left long before he graduated.

‘thanks,’ passing the lighter back to him, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his. it’s like electricity sparks through his veins.

he really needs to get a grip.

‘you enjoyin’ it here?’ you ask, eyes intimidating as they bore into his.

‘it’s okay.. tiring though,’ he shrugs, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact despite his inability to look pretty girls in the eye.

‘yeah.. you’ll get used to it,’ you chuckle, the smoke flowing out of your lips perfectly. he’s so pathetically down bad for you and you have literally no idea.

‘how long have you worked here?’ longing to keep the conversation flowing.

‘shit.. too long,’ chuckling as you take another drag. eddie could listen to that sound all day. ‘i think i was eighteen when i started so..’ pretending to count on your fingers, ‘six years?’

eddie blows the air out of cheeks, he’s probably be in a similar position if he’d have just graduated when he was supposed to so he can’t exactly pass judgement.

‘i think we went to school together, i mean, you were a couple grades above me but i remember you,’ hoping that that didn’t sound as creepy out loud like it did in his head.

‘oh shit, really?’ your eyes narrow, trying to place him though it’s obviously not going to happen, ‘i don’t remember you.. i’m so sorry,’ playfully hitting his arm.

the connection is enough to keep his delusions going for at least another month.

‘it’s fine, didn’t think you would,’ not many people did to be honest. he tosses his cigarette into the overflowing makeshift ashtray, waiting for you to lead the way back inside.

‘hey, it was a long time ago, i’m old now!’ you joke, walking back through the dim hall back to the bar. he tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip to you ass but he swears it’s only for a second.

the bar’s still dead, the stereo now blaring out some madonna tune he hated.

‘ugh.. turn this one off,’ he mutters, mostly to himself as he repositions himself back on his perch.

‘what?’

‘i hate this song.’

your jaw drops in faux-offence, ‘i made this mixtape you asshole,’ going to shove him off of the stool, ‘i can’t believe you can’t drop the cool guy act for one second to appreciate some madonna,’ laughing as you start collecting glasses.

his frown turns into an immediate grin, begging for your forgiveness as he starts to bop his head along to the beat. it’s not like anyone would see him and hell, even if they did, he didn’t care. not if it made you smile.

-

‘holy fuck, you been fightin’ with the door again?’ james remarks, pulling eddie’s eyes from his paper to spot you rushing into the bar.

your head is ducked, flashing the older man your middle finger, disappearing into the back before eddie can properly get a glimpse of your face.

but he knows.

there’d been a handful of times that you’d come in wearing a massive sweater instead of your usual low-cut tops and when you reached for something high up, the sleeve would reveal just enough for him to see the dark blue marks on your wrist.

he’d never been sure, not until now. but his stomach drops the second his brain puts two and two together.

ditching the paper and that asshole james behind the bar to slink off into the back, approaching the tiny staff room with the upmost caution. it’d never be wise to start throwing accusations around but he’s not stupid. eddie had watching his mom go through the exact same shit for years. knew all the tricks in the book to cover up bruises, cried his heart out every time his mom went back to his asshole dad.

only god knows how many times he’d planned out his fathers death. anger brimming in his tiny body the second he heard raised voices.

he knocks gently on the door, watching as you hurriedly wipe the makeup onto your eye. it’s not doing much, in fact, it’s not doing anything at all. the purple shining through undeniably.

‘you okay?’ practically whispering as he enters the room, knocking the door shut behind him. james’ comment had meant that this obviously wasn’t the first time you’d come into work with such horrid markings.

you sigh, giving up on attempting to cover it, slamming the metallic compact back into your locker. ‘i’m okay.. i’m fine,’ refusing to turn and face him.

you’re obviously not okay and it hurts eddie to know that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. instead, he takes a seat on the communal bench, if nothing else, he’d lend his ear for whatever story you wanted to tell him.

‘what happened?’ he dares to ask, not expecting to know the truth but it felt better than silence.

you sniff, closing your locker and finally facing him head on. there’s pain and guilt wracked all over your face, ‘i’m just.. clumsy,’ shoulders slumping, ‘i tripped..’

‘clumsy?’

you were anything but. eddie had watched you balance trays full of glasses without spilling a single drop. maybe other people bought your story but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

there’s a short silence and eddie shuffles, patting the empty space beside him, ‘you don’t have to lie to me.’ he swallows his anger, lets it rest in his stomach for a later date. there’s no doubt that if he got the opportunity, he’d kill the asshole that did this to you.

you swallow, reluctantly perching on the bench, ‘why are you even asking when you already know?’ not quite meeting his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

‘i don’t know.. didn’t wanna pressure you..’ he’s familiar with the whole routine. the denial from his mother had broken his heart at such a young age even though he wasn’t stupid.

you blink, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘he didn’t mean to.. was my fault,’ wiping the back of your hand against your sodden cheeks.

even hearing the words makes him inexplicably frustrated. not with you of course, but with the fact that you can’t see how much you don’t deserve that.

‘i don’t think you could do anything to deserve that,’ motioning towards your blackened eye. he’s not going to push it but he needs you to know that he’s here and would quite happily wrap his hands around that bastards neck.

‘you know.. my dad used to hit my mom,’ swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, but finds enough strength to continue, ‘she was the nicest lady in the world.. she didn’t deserve that and neither do you,’ licking his suddenly parched lips. it wasn’t an easy topic then and it certainly isn’t now.

he’s not particularly ever open about what happened to his mom but if it convinced you even a tiny bit to leave him, it’d be worth it.

there’s a beat, followed by a muffled sniff but you’re nodding, staring down at the grimy tiles rather than his face. eddie reckons that he’d be overstepping his mark if he did what he wanted and leant over to hug you. so he doesn’t. putting a sympathetic hand on your shoulder instead.

‘you’re an angel, you know that?’ the hints of a smile creeping onto your lips.

‘yeah i know,’ he scoffs, bashing his shoulder into yours, only gently.

‘shut up,’ knocking him straight back.

you get up from the bench, puffing your cheeks out as you take one last look into the mirror.

it’s a gut-wrenching, awful sight and god forbid eddie has to ever see you like that again.

-

perhaps rather naively, eddie assumes everything is fine for the next few weeks.

understandably, you’re a bit subdued for a few days but you do revert back to your usual bubbly self come friday evening. no more bruises, no more groaning when you change the keg and absolutely zero mention of your wretched boyfriend.

so when he pulls into his gravel driveway one gloomy saturday night, he’s aghast to see you perched on his trailer steps. blinking through his headlights, soaked through from the rain with a busted lip and a torn shirt to match.

he near enough launches himself from his van, rushing over to your hunched over frame. damn near falling over his feet to get to you.

‘what the hell happened?’

you stand, clinging onto your poorly packed rucksack, ‘i.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ utterly defeated, any traces of life drained from your face.

he doesn’t say another word, bundling you into the trailer, slamming the lights on to get a proper look of you. his hands firmly on your drenched shoulders as he examines your injuries. your lip is cracked, the blood had wept from the cut and dried on your chin.

it’s awful. knocks him sick just to see you like this. your cheeks are stained with a mixture of rain and he presumes tears, hair hanging limp around your beautiful face.

‘what happened?’ he says softly, studying your face. he notices the small gash on your forehead, using everything within himself not to storm out of that door in a murderous rage.

your mouth opens but no words come out. it’s not as if he can’t put two and two together, he just doesn’t understand how it got to this point after last week.

‘it’s okay.. c’mon let’s get you out of these clothes,’ he blinks, collecting himself before taking your sopping wet bag. the clothes had all suffered in the downpour, damp and unwearable.

so he leads you into his cramped room, hastily rummaging through his drawers for something you can wear.

it’s a little self-indulgent and completely the wrong time but his heart flutters when you reappear out of the bathroom sporting his tee and a pair of old gym shorts. now showered and without the blood stains on your face, it’s a welcome sight.

‘better?’ he offers, though he knows a shower could never really help.

you nod, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. it’s so adorable and eddie seriously has to fight his compulsion to just pull you into his arms. he knows there’s no way he can protect you from everything but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

‘you want a drink? beer?’

your eyes light up, a minuscule smirk appearing on your battered lips. he’s sure wayne would understand why he came home to a non-existent six pack. the berating would be worth it to see you smile again.

he collapses onto the couch next to you, beer in hand as he watches you slowly relax. delighted that he could offer a safe space for you, even if it did come with some very complicated feelings.

that night, admittedly very creepily, he watches as you sleep. terrified to fall asleep in his makeshift bed on the floor in case you needed him.

-

at some point in the last two weeks, eddie had gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in his bed next to you. you’d told him it was far too cold for him on the floor and he should just get in. which he did, with great pleasure. there was nothing to it of course, but a few times he’d woken up to your leg entangled with his or your face pressed against his back.

everything had just got a whole lot more comfortable. rides to work, cooking for one another and some shared looks that he’d been unable to put his finger on. not wanting to believe they had any deeper meaning but at the same time, he knew that that wasn’t how friends looked at each other.

it’s a rare night you both have off, sat in the trailer watching halloween, neither of you really interested in what’s going on on the screen. there’s an inexplicable tension in the air tonight, you’re quieter than usual which eddie doesn’t like.

‘you okay?’ he dares to ask. he’d felt a little overbearing those first few days, constantly checking on you to make sure you were okay.

‘hmm? oh, i’m okay,’ setting your bottle of beer on the table, ending up much closer to him when you sit back.

‘you sure? you’re quiet,’ keen not to let on that he was absolutely buzzing about your close proximity.

‘just thinking.’

‘about?’

you let out a soft breath, twisting around to look at him fully. the only times he’d been this close to you were in bed where he laid and listened to your soft snores and when you’d been covered in injuries. neither one were exceptionally great circumstances.

‘you,’ you blink up at him, smiling just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

‘me?’ he can’t decipher whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘mhm.’

‘what about me?’

you don’t respond for what feels like an eternity but your gaze lowers, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. if he weren’t staring directly into your bright eyes, he’d have missed it.

‘i really want to kiss you,’ you say, so brazenly that eddie’s not quite sure if he’s heard you correctly, almost sputtering on his breath as the words process.

‘you.. you wanna kiss me?’ trying hard not to sound so astounded. pretty girls didn’t want to kiss eddie, not like this.

you nod, ‘can i?’

there are stars in his eyes, blood pumping around his limbs at an alarming rate. his head is fuzzy and if he weren’t sitting, he’d probably have fainted.

‘please,’ he chokes, desperately forcing the word out before it becomes impossible.

your palms are soft as they caress his cheek, wishing that he’d shaved before this had unfolded. his heartbeat stutters, bubbling with anticipation as you lean in, gentle lips locking onto his as his eyes flutter shut.

this is it. he’d dreamt of kissing you for weeks, practiced on his hand an embarrassing amount of times and yet still nothing could’ve prepared him for how earth shattering this felt. his heart is practically jumping out of his chest and he’s sure you can feel it thumping against yours.

it’s as if fate had bought the two of you together, moving against each other in perfect harmony. if he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

your hand creeps down onto his chest, holding yourself upright as you shift onto your knees. do you want to have sex with him? is this actually happening? his fingertips vibrate as they connect with your waist, like you weren’t even real and just a figment of his overactive imagination.

the second your lips part from his, he wants to cry, pull you back in and never let go. the absence of contact makes him whine, opening his eyes to see yours gazing back, they look different. different to how you’ve ever looked at him before, full of something unspeakable.

‘do you want to?’ you ask quietly into the minimal space between you.

eddie wants to so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. nodding hurriedly to let you know just how eager he is. there’s not a chance in hell he’d let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

your lips twitch into a smile at his permission, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt.

but before you get any further, the trailer door clicks open and wayne is stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand accompanying his unimpressed scowl. ‘okay well, i think that’s enough of that,’ he grumbles, shuffling into the trailer as you climb off eddie’s lap, back into your own spot.

‘sorry wayne.. i didn’t know you were back so early,’ his cheeks burning, bashful as ever. it wasn’t enough for wayne to walk in on that but he was always now straining against his jeans, trying desperately to hide the tent while you reshuffle, pulling your shorts back down to a more appropriate length.

‘yeah yeah whatever,’ his uncle shakes his head, trundling over to the couch and tossing the box onto the cluttered coffee table, ‘move over boy, i wanna watch my programme,’ collapsing into the empty seat beside his nephew with a deep, guttural sigh.

the two of you share a sly smirk, tuning in to whatever shit wayne had put on without saying another word. stifling your laughter with a piece of pizza as eddie tries and fails to discretely pull a pillow onto his lap.

it’s hours later when you both crawl into bed and eddie has checked five times that wayne’s actually asleep before he gets to kiss you again.

bundled up under the covers when you pull him on top of you, your face gloriously basked in the bright moonlight shining in. it’s breathtaking.

‘you want to?’ you ask again, as if his answer had changed in those few hours.

he nods, his curls brushing fall down and brush against your cheek, ‘have you.. before?’ you ask cautiously. he’s not offended, even if he should be.

he has had sex before. only twice. when ellen had first joined hellfire, they had sorta had a year long fling which had ended after they had sex and ellen realised that maybe she didn’t actually like men. that was a super boost to his confidence. and then at senior prom when tina took great pity on him and somehow they ended up having sex in the back of his van.

he nods anyway, granted he’s not the most experienced but he’ll sure as hell try.

‘good,’ you smile, warm thighs wrapping around his torso as you reconnect your lips. it’s soft, gentle even. world’s apart from his previous encounters. this felt real, like you weren’t just kissing because you had to but because you wanted to.

it’s too cold in the trailer to care about removing your clothes, though he’s sure that’ll change in a minute. focussing on getting his tongue inside of your mouth, rutting against your pajama shorts. the friction causing his already semi-hard dick to rise, unable to contain the moan from escaping.

a smirk flashes across his face as his hand drags your shorts down your legs, savouring every moment of being able to touch your bare, supple skin. his hand makes its way back up your legs, repositioning the one he could grasp back around his lower back.

he has trouble getting his boxers down, too excited to focus on being smooth about it. appreciating the feel of your hand tugging the fabric down. you’re barely kissing at this point, your lips connecting with the corner of his mouth, all messy as the anticipation takes over.

‘you sure?’ he asks, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. he could just about remember what to do. sending a quick prayer upstairs to not let him be utterly useless.

‘i’m sure,’ you breathe, the feel of your fingers tangled into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

‘okay..’ he nods, mostly to himself as he wraps a head around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. taking a brief moment to just capture this moment in preparation of it never happening again.

the pleasure overcomes his body as he slides in, already almost losing himself as he fills you up. a soft moan escapes your lips, gripping onto his neck. he is acutely aware that his uncle is asleep on the other side of the old trailer so he muffles his face into your neck, lips connecting with your jaw bone, kissing any and every bit of skin exposed to him.

sex had never felt like this before. at best, it had felt slightly better than when he jerked off, but this was something else. eddie knows it’s cliche and is definitely only because you feel so fucking good around him, but it’s as if you were made for each other.

hands pressed into the pillow so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a permanent dent either side of your head. using everything within himself not to start hollering, eyes fluttering shut against your neck. he moves in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. the small room filling with the sounds of your soaking wet cunt. its undeniable to anyone with ears and he just hopes to god that wayne is still asleep.

his own low groans vibrating against your cheek, mouth hanging open as his thrusts grow faster. you’re panting softly directly into his ear, spurring him on. despite the feel of your perfect cunt around him, the best feeling is knowing that he’s making you feel good.

‘h-holy shit,’ he mumbles nonsensically into the crook of your neck, not allowing himself to come for air because he know that the second he looks at your face, he’ll cum.

your one hand is splayed out on his upper back, the other holding onto his sweaty neck beneath his mop of hair. whining his name into his ear, driving him into a frenzy with the sound of your breathy voice, desire rippling through your moans. he should tell you to be quiet but that’d be cruel and he’d rather take the shame of wayne knowing than not hearing you.

your legs shift higher the position allowing him to reach the golden spot, nudging the soft, spongy spot over and over. eddie figures you’re far more experienced than he is. with no offence meant to you but you obviously know what works. this is new territory for him, a closeness that he’d never known possible.

you’re engulfing him completely, every single one of his senses encompassed by you. you’re all he can see even with his eyes screwed shut, all he can hear, taste and smell. god knows you’re all he can feel, calves squeezing around his back and your perfect pussy tightening around him.

he groans, feeling his stomach begin to twist in that all too familiar feeling. orgasms had never felt so good, it’s like everything was dialled up to level ten. ‘i’m gonna.. shit- i’m gonna come,’ he babbles far too loudly.

every noise tumbling out of your mouth was pulling him closer, no record could ever come close to the sweet mewls that were slipping between your lips. his arms begin to tremble under his own weight. feeling your legs quivering around his waist as your orgasm begins to overtake your body, sinful noises echoing around the otherwise quiet trailer.

‘ohh fuck,’ he growls, feeling your walls clenching around him, it was like he’d been pushed over the edge. the only way he can begin to describe it was otherworldly, flashes of white light illuminate his eyelids.

images of your face accompany your honeyed whimpers and he has to pull out before he explodes. spurts of his release cover his hand and admittedly the back of your thigh. if he had any semblance of control, he’d have been embarrassed but he’s not exactly sure that he’s still on planet earth.

he dares to open his eyes, watching as your chest heaves below him clinging onto his forearm with desperate fingertips. you’re looking up at him as if he’s the only person you’d ever seen. mouth slack as you regain your breath.

‘jesus christ,’ he whispers, hand resting on your angled knee as he floats back down to your planet.

eddie clambers off of the bed with a grunt, wiping a hand over his sweaty face. reaching down to grab his previously discarded towel. it wasn’t the epitome of romance but he darent to leave his room, petrified that wayne had just heard that entire encounter.

he’s a gentleman, of course, running the towel over your thigh to clean his mess. offering you a tiny shrug as if to say sorry. rather suddenly he feels rather conscious of himself, refusing to look at you as his cheeks flame.

it’s ridiculous. he’d just been buried between your legs and yet now couldn’t even look you in the fucking eyes.

before he gets up again, your hand reaches out, curling around his t-shirt. ‘stop,’ using his shirt as leverage for you to sit up.

in one quick movement, you’re placing a tiny onto his lips. a reassurance he really shouldn’t have needed but he appreciates nonetheless.

‘don’t do that,’ you hush, millimetres from his face, the shadow of his broken blinds shine upon your cheek. it hurts him to know that someone would dare look at you and want to hurt you.

if it were possible, he’d take all of your pain and carry it with him instead.

‘okay..’ he nods, resisting the urge to apologise once again.

you giggle and it sounds like the heavens have opened, pulling his body on top of yours as his bed makes an almighty squeak. if wayne wasn’t already awake, he certainly would be now.

-

eddie doesn’t know where the fuck you are.

you hadn’t come back to the trailer after work last night and now you’re nowhere to be found. you were supposed to start half an hour ago but hadn’t turned up and now his heart is pounding, mind racing at the horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened.

at first, he’d thought maybe he said something wrong? he’d just thrown out the suggestion of going to get the rest of your things and moving them in here while you got back on your feet. he hadn’t meant to push you out, god no, that was the last thing he wanted.

maybe stupidly he had presumed you wanted your own space. whatever the hell was going on between you two was so fresh, he didn’t want to even chance fucking it up.

the guilt wracks his brain, tempted to drop everything to drive around this tiny town looking for you. he’s so stupid. should’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed it while you were there.

he’s just about to tell james that he’s leaving when the door to the bar opens and a rough looking man comes through with you held tightly underneath his arm. your eyes avoiding his direction, staring at the floor as the mystery man ushers you towards the back, making himself comfortable at the bar.

eddie’s heart shatters into a million pieces, watching open mouthed as you disappear into the back.

judging by the look on james’ face, he recognises him, reluctantly pouring his beer as they engage in useless small talk.

‘thought i’d better sit in for her shift.. wouldn’t want her running off again,’ the man announces, beady eyes glaring right into his soul.

eddie knows who he is. he’d never seen him before but he could tell. they all had that sinister aura about them, like they could flip at any given moment. his dad was the same, walking on egg shells around him just in case he said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way.

you emerge from the staff room, still vehemently avoiding eye contact, a shell of the you he saw just yesterday. ‘hey.. you okay?’ eddie asks, but it falls flat as you walk off without so much as a look back towards him.

he can’t believe it, how you could be so different so quickly. as if the past few weeks you’d spent together had meant nothing. he can’t blame you. not really. it’s a cycle and he knows better than anyone that it takes a thousand attempts to actually break out of it.

his shoulders slump as he rushes out the back, refusing to look at that assholes face any longer. willing himself to get a grip and not jump over that bar to strangle the piece of shit right now.

a hand clamps down on his shoulder and for a brief moment he thinks he might be you until james clears his throat, shuffling on his feet behind him, ‘you can’t save her man,’ squeezing his shoulder firmly, ‘you think we haven’t tried?’

eddie sniffs, shrugging him off. he didn’t appreciate the patronising tone in which james was speaking to him.

because god knows, if he couldn’t save his mom, there’s no fucking chance he’s not saving you.

[riboism]

the beguiled

pairing: inkeeper! p.sh x married! f. reader

blurb: As a last attempt to save your marriage, you and your husband take a short vacation to a secluded lake house. But what happens when the owner of the bed and breakfast derails your plans?

genre: smut, angst, infidelity, mentions of alcohol, f. reader x husband! kim hongjoong, reader x park seonghwa, cheater!reader, husband!hongjoong, inkeeper!seonghwa

wc: 5.9k

This week wasn’t at all what you imagined it to be. You pictured being in a nice Airbnb that overlooked the snowy mountains of Aspen. You loved cold, brutal winters, as they gave you an excuse to cozy up by the fire with your husband. You imagined laying your head against his chest while he draped a blanket over you and told you stories about his childhood. He’d quiet his voice like he was whispering something that he didn’t want anyone other than you to hear, even though it was just the two of you alone in the room. You loved when he did that. The softness of his tone and the warmth from being in his arms would lull you to sleep, and he’d chuckle softly when he looked down and saw you drooling all over the new sweater you got for him. But you weren’t in Aspen. And you weren’t drifting off to sleep in your husband’s arms. You were in a secluded lakehouse in the middle of a humid forest, ass up and face down on a creaky mattress while your husband drilled into you from behind. 

It was the first time in months that he touched you. You weren’t enjoying it- not at first, at least. He fucked you like it was an obligation. Hongjoong knew you were upset with him, and unfortunately, there weren’t any jewelry stores nearby for him to go buy you a “Sorry for being a shitty husband and ruining our vacation” gift. So when you came upstairs after dinner, Hongjoong gave in to your displeased look and decided to make amends in a way he thought would help you forget about the whole thing. And you let him. 

You were immune to him. Honestly, he was the last thing on your mind right now. Even with him gripping your hips and groaning as he plunged into you like this, all you could think about was Mr. Park. The Innkeeper, Mr. Park. 

At first, his presence irked you. The whole point of this vacation was to get some alone time with Hongjoong and rekindle whatever sparks were left in your marriage. But how could you do that with this random stranger hovering over you two all day? You had to enjoy dinner with him every night, and it didn’t help that he slept right downstairs. But then, your husband’s work phone wouldn’t stop ringing, and he started to flake from your lakeside plans to go and handle his “emergency work stuff” in your rooms. You couldn’t believe that he brought his work to your vacation. At first, you blamed the promotion for your current marital crisis. But after the past few days, you started to see that the decline was caused by you, not his job. You weren’t exciting anymore, well not as exciting as his job, so when it came down to it, Hongjoong would rather attend a four-hour-long meeting than go to a picnic with his wife. 

You knew he wasn’t enjoying it either. Well, he was enjoying getting his dick wet as any man would, but he didn’t see it as making love to his wife. He didn’t see you at all, and you didn’t see him either. The most intimate act wasn’t intimate anymore because both of you had someone else in your mind at the moment. Him, he was probably thinking about the end-of-the-year bonus, or maybe that scantily clad secretary at his work. Since when were push-up bras and deep v-necks office-appropriate attire? You never brought it up to him, but it bothered you that she got to see your husband more than you did. 

But you weren’t any better. Since Hongjoong was absent most of the time, Mr. Park took it upon himself to keep you company. It was innocent at first. You helped him out in the kitchen from time to time, and after lunch, you two would walk under the never-ending green canopies and talk about anything and everything. And yes, you did develop a small crush on him, who wouldn’t? He looked like he was carved out of marble by Michaelangelo himself- perfect brows, plush and full lips, shiny black hair, and that voice. Velvety and smooth with a slight thickness that made you squeeze your thighs together whenever he called your name. It was just a harmless crush. Married women can have crushes, can’t they? 

Then something happened at dinner tonight. You were upset. You had spent most of the day in the kitchen with Mr. Park preparing Hongjoong’s favorite dish for dinner. Only after setting the table, did you get a text from your dear husband saying that his meeting was running late and that, “you guys should just start without me.” So yeah, you were upset. Reasonably upset. And a little drunk because you drank more Pinot Noir than you can handle. And Mr. Park, like any nice host, comforted you while you ranted about your dying marriage and how badly you wished you never walked down that aisle.

It felt nice to have someone by your side and holding your hand while you quieted your sobs. Just his presence alone put you at ease. He said he knew how it felt to be lonely. He said a lot of sweet things that you couldn’t remember. Honestly, everything leading up to it was a blur, but the one thing you couldn’t get out of your head right now was when his hand moved to your bare thigh. 

“You deserve to be ravished” was all he said before he leaned in. You were shocked at first, but you didn’t pull away. His lips were intoxicating, and you were desperate to have more of him. He worked his hand up your thigh, and you automatically spread your legs apart to make it easier for him. You could feel him smile into your lips at the impulse, and he didn’t hesitate to cup your clothed heat. He swallowed up all your moans and palmed over your wet panties with his skilled hand, his thumb flicking over your clit just the way you liked. You wanted to straddle him right then and there, let him rip your clothes off and ravish you over the dinner table, but suddenly you felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. You realized what you were doing and pushed Mr. Park off you. 

“I’m sorry I…I have to go to my husband.” You panicked before fixing yourself and running up the stairs to where your loyal husband was waiting for you, leaving a disheveled Mr. Park behind at the dinner table. 

Your heart was stuck in your throat. You worried that Hongjoong heard something, or worse, saw you with the Innkeeper’s hands stuffed inside your panties. But to your relief, he was blissfully unaware of your adultery. He apologized for missing dinner, and when you didn’t react to his apology, he started up with his sweet talking and kissed up your neck before pulling you into bed with him. 

You were disgusted with yourself. Yes, your marriage was in shambles and you were unhappy, but this wasn’t the solution. You thought you were better than this. You still loved Hongjoong and would never in a million years think to hurt him like this. But if that were true, why were you sort of bummed that you ended things so abruptly with Mr. Park? Why did you secretly wish you two had just continued? Were you seriously thinking about another man while your husband was inside of you? 

You turned your head to the door. Could he hear you two? You knew he had to have heard the creaking bed, at least. Does he think you're a slut for that? For letting another man touch you and then immediately go and have sex with your husband? You wondered if he was watching. Maybe he had a hidden peephole and was watching you from afar, stroking himself to your wet sounds. Thoughts of his cock flooded your brain. You knew he had to be big- bigger than this. He’d probably fill you up just right and it would only take a few pumps before you were creaming all over his-

No. Snap out of it. 

“Feels so good Joongie,” You whined, worried he might think something was wrong from the lack of noises coming from you. He gripped your hips tighter and slammed into you even harder. 

“Almost there baby” He groaned. How romantic. 

Your eyes were still glued to the door. What if he really was watching you? From the keyhole maybe? Should you put on a show for him? 

You brought your fingers down to your heat and gently rubbed your clit. You thought about Mr. Park’s mouth. It was probably the prettiest mouth you’ve ever seen. How badly you wanted them peppering kisses all over your body. You let out a string of moans while you worked yourself faster. They were getting louder and more urgent, in hopes that maybe he could hear you reaching your high. 

You took your other hand and squeezed your breast, your eyes still studying the door. If he were watching, he’d find you absolutely stunning right now. Hair a mess, slightly covering your eyes but thankfully your mouth was visible while you moaned and held your lips agape. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself seeing you play with your most sensitive spots while taking it from the back. You were absolutely filthy and it was all because of him. 

“Joong, I’m gonna-” You grasped your breast tighter and prepared yourself. 

One last thrust and he reached his high with you. His cum leaked out of you and dripped down on the sheets. You sighed, slightly annoyed because now you have to change the sheets before bed. 

Hongjoong fell sloppily next to you, chest heaving up and down as he caught his breath. He looked over at you, pleased to see how fucked out you look from his cock. It boosted his ego just a little bit.  

“I don’t think you’ve ever been that vocal before babe.” 

“Shut up and get me a towel.” 

The next day you spent avoiding Mr. Park. You let Hongjoong go down for breakfast without you and stayed in bed, claiming that you were having a stomach ache and that you just wanted to rest for a bit. You couldn’t face him, not after last night. You went a little overboard, for sure, and you honestly felt nothing but shame about it. What were you thinking letting another man touch you like that? You’re married! And what if he heard you making those lewd sounds last night? At this point, you just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. 

You told yourself it was a weak moment. A sudden lapse in judgment. A drunken mistake that will never happen again. It wasn’t your fault anyway. Mr. Park basically threw himself at you. No, you were a good wife because you ended things before they got too far. And those fantasies…they’re just fantasies. All that happened last night was that you made love to your husband and went to sleep. That’s it. 

Everything was going fine until dinner came around. Hongjoong took your quietness and the newfound desire of staying in your room all day as a sign that you were still mad at him. So to make amends to you and to Mr. Park for skipping out on dinner last night, Hongjoong decided to drag you out of bed and force you downstairs to the dinner table with him. He really had to decide to be a present husband now? It was just your luck. 

“Foods delicious Mr. Park, as always. Thank you” Hongjoong complimented. You forced yourself to keep your head down, too embarrassed to be sitting across the very man who could ruin your relationship with a snap of his fingers. Mr. Park noticed your discomfort. He almost found it amusing and wondered if he should mess with you a little. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He spoke so calmly like nothing had happened between you two last night. Meanwhile, you were struggling to get even your first bite down your throat. The whole situation had you uneasy and you were beginning to think of an excuse to leave the table. 

“And thank you for taking such good care of my wife,” Hongjoong smiled at you. “I know I’ve been away for most of the trip, but I’m glad she had someone to spend time with while I was handling my work calls.” 

You could’ve just ignored the calls and let some interns deal with it. 

“It’s my pleasure,” Mr. Park swirled his wine glass. “But you know, if I had a wife like yours, I’d let all the calls go to voicemail.” 

You froze in your seat. What was he doing? Hongjoong, even if he may seem uninterested in you at times, still felt possessive over you, especially when other men gave you unprompted compliments. You worried he might take the comment the wrong way, but to your surprise, he seemed oddly okay. Hongjoong took your hand into his and gave it a small squeeze. 

“Yes, she is a beauty, isn’t she? You should see the wedding pictures. I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride.” Hongjoong smiled at you fondly. 

“I bet.” Mr. Park took a long sip of his drink while staring intently at you. You felt hot under his gaze and tried to busy yourself by shoveling the rice around your plate. Suddenly, you felt something snaking up your leg. You darted your eyes across the table to a very smiley Mr. Park. 

“So, how did you two meet?”

It was an innocent question, but you wished Mr. Park wasn’t playing footsies with you under the table while you and your husband recanted your love story. 

“We met in college” Hongjoong began. “It was, what, junior year?”

“Senior year.” you smiled through gritted teeth. 

“Right, senior year. Anyway, we had a group project for one of our classes, and none of the group members ever reached out. The deadline was approaching, so we decided to work on it in the library without them. And when that was over, we became friends, and then at the end of the semester, y/n confessed to me.” 

Mr. Park leaned in, intrigued to learn that it was you who pursued him. “Y/n confessed to you?” 

Hongjoong blushed. “Yes, she beat me to it! Took the words right out of my mouth. We’ve been together ever since.” 

“That’s just surprising to me, that y/n confessed to you first. She doesn’t seem like the type of person to just…open up so easily.” 

His foot inched even higher up your leg, and he toyed with the ends of your dress. You knew what he meant by opening up. You thought back to last night, feeling stupid over how quickly you spread your legs for him. Your cheeks were flamed now, and you silently prayed that he’d stop before Hongjoong noticed how much of a mess you were becoming. 

“I guess I’m just special.” Hongjoong smiled, gleefully unaware of what was going on under the table. 

“So, how did he propose? Sorry, I’m just dying to know. I get a lot of couples here, and I love hearing their proposal stories.” His gaze shifted back at you. You were in no state to talk right now, but Hongjoong and Mr. Park eagerly waited for you to retell the story. With Mr. Park’s touch getting dangerously close to your heart, you struggled to get even the first few words out. 

“I-It was during our vacation in P-Prague.” He was right between your legs now, rubbing at the skin between your thighs. He looked at you innocently, like he wasn’t making a mess of you right in front of your husband. You were scared that Hongjoong could somehow notice what was going on. Tucking your anxious thoughts away, you continued telling the tale. “W-we were just about to go skiing and then-”

He finally made contact with your clothed clit, rubbing his toe up and down at your aching bud. The sudden motion made you jump out of your seat, causing your chair to fall back onto the ground. 

“Honey, are you okay?” Hongjoong asked confused. He placed his hand on the small of your back, furrowing his brows in concern. You quickly pulled your dress down, feeling out of breath  from the sudden rush. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m feeling well tonight.” 

Before anyone could say anything more, you gathered yourself and scurried out of there. Hongjoong got up and followed after you, asking you over and over what was wrong. Mr. Park sat back and smiled to himself before taking another long sip of his wine. He loved seeing you flustered. He made it a goal to see you like that one more time before you left. 

Hongjoong was like a wave. There were periods when he would be absolutely enthralled by you. He was more attentive, caring, and sweet. It was like you could see a glimpse of who he was when you first met him all those years ago at the library. Of course, the rising tide always has to fall and the periods of sweet and caring Hongjoong went back to careless and overworked Hongjoong. Like right now. 

“Do you really have to go?”

Hongjoong shimmied into his pants, running his hand over his dress shirt to tuck it in. He got a call from work and was asked to come back to the office. 

“I told you, honey if it were up to me, I’d stay here with you. But the Anderson group is thinking of pulling out, and I’m the only one who can talk them out of it.”

“But you’re on vacation. We’re on vacation.” 

Hongjoong sighed before sitting down on the bed next to you. “I know, I know, but I told you. This merger is huge. We can’t lose it.” 

You crossed your arms and looked away from him. You were too angry and too tired to continue arguing. Hongjoong slipped his fingers underneath your chin and force you to look back at him. He leaned closer to you, now speaking in a lower and more serious voice. 

“This can be big for us. I’m doing this for you, for us.”

You pushed his hand away from you. You wanted to spit at him, to tell him that you couldn’t care less about a merger and that you know he’s doing this for him, not you. But again, you were too tired to argue so you held your tongue. “You’re really just gonna leave me here? With that guy?” 

“That guy is a wonderful host who has been nothing but kind to us. And I’ll be back before lunch, okay?”

Not waiting for an answer, Hongjoong pressed a quick kiss on your forehead before he started to head out. Now you were all alone. Wonderful. Your friends back home must be dying to hear how your husband ran out in the middle of your vacation to go to work. 

---

Now came a new dilemma. After a few hours of laying in bed, you started to feel hungry. You thought about going downstairs to get something quick to eat, but you worried that you might run into Mr. Park. You didn’t want to see him, not after what happened last night and the night before. But your hunger pains grew more difficult to ignore, and you had no choice but to sneak downstairs for a quick snack. 

The fridge was fully stocked. You don’t think you’ve seen a fridge this well-stocked than when you visited your parents’ house last Thanksgiving. You scanned the shelves of its contents, indecisive over whether you should take a couple of string cheeses or the freshly made berry yogurt parfait. You figured there wouldn’t be any harm in taking both. 

“If you were hungry, you should’ve come down for breakfast. I made your favorite.” 

The voice coming from behind you made your stomach churn. You took a deep breath before closing the refrigerator door and turning around to face Mr. Park. His gaze on you made you feel small, even though he was a couple feet away from him. 

“I-“

Mr. Park walked up to you, slowly closing the gap between you two. You held your breath as you two were chest to chest now, his eyes heavy on you. Before you could say anything more, he cut you off again.

“You’re in my way.”

After realizing he needed access to the fridge, you stepped aside for him. You watched him as he opened the door and bent down to look at his inventory. “You still like your eggs French, right?”

You had told him about the time Hongjoong and you went to France for your honeymoon and how you’d eat creamy French style scrambled eggs for almost every meal because they were too good to have just once a day. “Yes.” You said in a small voice.

Mr. Park took out a carton of eggs, butter, milk, and chives before closing the refrigerator door with his foot. Juggling all the ingredients in his arms, he flashed you a quick smile. “Good.”

The whole situation was odd. You felt like you couldn’t leave so you stayed in the kitchen while he prepared your eggs. You couldn’t deny that you didn’t enjoy the view. Watching a handsome man with a kitchen towel laid over his shoulder, preparing you your breakfast was any woman’s dream. But you weren’t just any woman, you reminded yourself. You were a married woman. Out of shame, you looked down at your feet and forced yourself to keep your eyes off from him. Mr. Park noticed and smiled to himself.

“Come here.”

There was that voice again. Even saying something as simple of a demand as come here made you melt into the floor. You hated how every essence of his being- his voice, his eyes, his touch- made you weak and hopeless as ever.

“Why?” You managed to ask. He smiled to himself again as he reduced the flame under the pan.

“Just want to show you something.”

After hesitating for a short while, you finally walked over to his spot at the counter. You watched him as he whisked the eggs over a pan of boiling water, his arms flexing a little as he did so. “You always temper them over a low heat. That’s what makes them nice and creamy.” It seemed like he was acting as if the last two nights didn’t happen and was continuing with the small cooking lessons, he’d give you whenever you helped in the kitchen. You nodded along as the eggs began to curd. Suddenly, Mr. Park stopped whisking and handed you the whisk. “Now you try.”

Unsurely, you took the whisk from his hand and moved closer to the stove. He gave you a nod to proceed. You tried to mimic his whisking, but Mr. Park immediately stopped you, clicking his tongue at your lack of experience in the kitchen.

“No, no, no.” He stood behind you now and you could catch a whiff of his cologne. It was salty and breezy, almost like the ocean. It was a nice scent. Much calmer than the intense sandalwood Hongjoong would wear. “You’re going too slow. You have to be fast or else they won’t cream as nicely.” He took the whisk from your hand and demonstrated for you. You tried your best to pay attention, but it was hard with his scent overpowering you. He stopped his demonstration and handed you back the whisk. “Now take some of the butter and mix it in.”

You did as instructed and dropped a few cubes of butter into the eggs. You began whisking as he told you to, unsure of whether you were doing it correctly. Honestly, whisking eggs wasn’t difficult, and you hated that he made the most mundane tasks so difficult for you.

“Just like that.” He said into your ear. Your breath hitched after feeling his lips ghost over your ear. You pulled yourself together and continued on with your task, trying your best not to show any weakness. But he noticed and was smiling to himself the entire time because of it.

“Now take the spatula and mix it all together one last time.”

Putting the whisk down, you took the spatula from the counter and did as you were told. The eggs looked just like the ones you ate in France and a small smile spread across your lips from the accomplishment.

“Good girl.”

It was like every cell in your body melted into one another. Good girl. He had no idea what he was doing to you, and you no longer had the restrain to hold yourself together. Mr. Park feathered his lips around your ear lobe before taking it into his mouth. You whimpered as he suckled onto your skin, biting back any moans that threatened to escape your mouth. His hands made their way to your chest, tracing his fingertips over your nipples before giving your breast a tight squeeze. His hands felt so good; no matter how hard you denied it, your body would always betray you. From the goosebumps prickling over your skin, your hardened peaks, and the wetness pooling between your legs, Mr. Park knew he had an effect on you and there was no way either of you could back out now.

You felt him press himself into you more. His hardness was hard to ignore and that only made you needier for him. Unable to hold yourself back, you wrapped your arm behind you and palmed over his cock. Mr. Park’s breathing grew shakier as he grinded himself into your hand. Unable to hold back any longer, Mr. Park placed a hand on the back of your neck and gently tried to bend you over the counter, while using his other hand to drag your dress up. Before he could do so, your conscious rang in and the overwhelming rush of guilt and disgust took over and ultimately led you to push him off of you.

"We can’t” you panted, scrambling to fix your dress in case Hongjoong walked in.

“Why not?”

“I’m married.”

He laughed. “Just a few days ago you said you didn’t want to be.” 

“That was before. Things are different now.” 

He stepped closer to you. “Oh yeah? And where is he now?”

“He’s um…” you looked down at your feet, “he had to go to the office for something.” 

“The office? During your vacation? Sounds to me like he hasn’t changed at all.”

You were starting to grow impatient with him. Who was he to act like he knew anything about your marriage? “You don’t know my husband. You don’t even know me.”

He took another few steps closer to you. “Oh, I know you, y/n. You’re easy to read.” He continued walking towards you, making you take a few steps back as he talked, “I know you’re unhappy. You have been for a while now. I know that you’re desperately holding onto something that you know is seconds away from falling apart. I know you're lonely…you just want someone to pay attention to you, don’t you?”

He had you cornered now. You gasped when you felt the wall up against your back. “Am I right on the money?” 

“I-I love him” you stuttered. The way you said it didn’t sound too convincing. But it was true, he was your husband and even if things were complicated at the moment, you still had feelings for him. Right?

Mr. Park kneeled down in front of you, not affected by what you were saying to him. “Okay.” 

“And what we did…it was a mistake.” 

“Okay.”

“A-and…and he can never know about this.”

His lips caressed over your skin, leaving a trail of lazy open mouth kisses up your leg. “Okay” he said in between kisses.

“I made a vow” you warned, but your words weren’t enough to stop him. His head slowly disappeared under your dress, inching closer and closer to your wet center. “T-this can’t h-happen. Ever.”

“Then tell me to stop,” he spoke into your skin, “tell me you don’t want this.” 

Your head grew dizzy from how close he was to your aching cunt. You wanted to tell him to stop, but the words failed to come out of your mouth. His kisses halted right before he got to your center, “Should I stop? Or can I keep going?” 

You were glad that he couldn’t see you from under your dress, or he’d probably laugh at your fucked out expression. His fingers gripped onto your panties and pulled them to the side to reveal your glistening cunt. Your wetness being exposed to the cool air made you shiver. Mr. Park cooed at your dripping cunt, “Doesn’t look like you want me to stop. Or do you?” 

“No, please,” you breathed out, finally giving in, “keep going.”

After you gave him the green light, Mr. Park lunged at your heat, lapping up every bit of your essence. He loved that he could draw out so many broken moans out from your lips with his tongue alone. He suckled over your clit, allowing himself to moan one because of your taste and two because he knew that would drive you over the edge. He was right.

“Mr. Park!” You wailed, trying to grab his hair but your dress was still draped over his head. Somehow, not seeing what he was doing down there made the experience even more delicious because your body was truly at his whim.

“Call me Seonghwa.” He mumbled into you. He then inserted one of his fingers into you, continuing to suck over your clit as he did so. Your head fell back against the wall and you wished you had something to hold on to because Mr. Park had no intention of being slow and gentle with you.

“T-too fast!” You cried. “Gonna cum!”

He could feel your walls clenching around him, forcing another moan out from his lips while he licked and sucked at your pussy. He used two fingers now and quickened his pace, the squelching sounds from your wet center along with his hand slapping into your cunt filling up the room and ultimately making your cheeks redden in embarrassment.

“Go ahead. I wanna taste your cum.”

And with that you bucked your hips up, the wave of pleasure almost making you fall over. Mr. Park kissed your inner thighs as you came down, careful not to touch your pussy as you were still sensitive from your orgasm. Unveiling himself from your dress, he stayed on his knees and gazed up at you, completely allured by how gorgeous you looked right now. You felt the same way, loving the way your arousal coated over his lips like a gloss. He had no intention of wiping it off.

Mr. Park was upset that he didn’t get to see you when you reached your peak. He was too consumed by your taste and pretty and whiny moans that he missed out on it. How badly he wanted to see you when you were pushed to the edge like the time at the dinner table. He remembered promising himself that he’d see you like that one more time and he decided to start another round.

“Get on the table.”

With how eager you two were, if there were any place-mats and dishes on the table, you would’ve pushed them off the table all dramatically. You laid on top of the table, your dress completely discarded and thrown to the floor. All that remained was your bra which failed to cover one of your breasts fully, and your panties which were still pushed to the side. Mr. Park lined himself up with you, rubbing his tip over your swollen bud.

“So fucking wet” he breathed. His cock breached into you with ease, but your eyes welled up from the stretch. He was bigger than you were used to but your pussy swallowed him up perfectly. Once he was fully buried into you, you gasped at how full you felt. Mr. Park didn’t wait for you to get used to him and began rocking into you with no remorse. You had nothing to hold onto but your breasts, kneading them in your hands as he set his own pace.

“You know, I could hear you the other night.”

You suddenly felt shy. “And?”

“You wanted me to hear you, didn’t you?”

When you didn’t answer, Mr. Park grabbed you by your waist and pulled you closer to his pelvis. He pushed his hands onto your lower stomach, feeling his cock slide in and out of you. The pressure on your stomach felt so good that you thought you could finish any minute now.

“You were calling out for me, weren’t you? While your husband was fucking you. I bet you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” He teased. You were too far gone now, he fucked every sense of composure and reason out of your system, so you gave in to his teases.

“I wish I just let you take me on the table that night, your cock feels so good.” You admitted. He chuckled before bending down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips. He was sloppy with his kisses, jamming his tongue into your mouth to explore yours. His hand reached down to reunite with your heat again, and he rubbed small circles over your clit as he pushed himself deep into you. You moaned into the kiss, your vision getting dizzy with pleasure.

Mr. Park pulled away from you, making you whine from the loss of contact. He pushed your legs up more, gripping onto the back of your thighs as he drilled himself deeper into you. You could start to see him losing himself into you, his release imminent. Your pussy felt so good to him, and he wondered what pathetic loser could give up such good pussy for an office job. Although, he didn’t want to bring that up and kill the mood by bringing up your husband.

He could last a lot longer than this, but your tight walls and the rush from being caught at any minute pushed him to his release earlier than he wanted it to. He groaned as he emptied himself into you, and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. Once the aftershocks went away, he made two or three more long strokes before completely pulling out of you. You hummed seeing his cock completely drenched in your and his cum.

“Seonghwa” you called. He looked down at you with hazy eyes, immediately knowing what you wanted. He leaned down again, reconnecting his lips with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moving your lips in a slow and passionate kiss. It had been so long since you’d been taken care of like this and you almost wanted to cry when his lips trailed away and kissed your eyes, forehead, cheeks, just anywhere on your face that he could get his lips on. You knew what you two did was wrong, but you’ve never felt this loved in such a long time.

After he retired and laid his head on your chest, you held him close and signed into his hair. “Why did I have to find you now?”

taglist: @sanjoongie​ @seonghwasstar​ @iffyleafy​ @cosmic-w0lf​ @luvanterx​ @belletiny​ @0809wrld​

[tomscocksleeve]

Could you please write something for Tom who's crushing on the reader since like forever, but he's always been too much in his head thinking he's not good enough for us? And then he kinda saves us from a very touchy guy at a shitty basement party and we go outside and get to talk and we find out we were both crushing on each other for the longest time. But Tom always had his little girlfriends, so we had like no chance of knowing. It can be pretty angsty too (lol this is so long)

Can we try?

Tom kaulitz fanfic

Summary: Tom and you were enemies to friends but then he invites you to this party, the night ended up magical.

Paring: Tom kaulitz x fem Reader

Genre: romance fanfic

REQUESTED

Word count: 836 words.

Tom was your friend for so long but it hadn’t started that way. In fact, you guys were enemies almost, he would constantly be annoying and push your limits and you were just so fed up with it. Few months ago he decided to talk to you and apologize for his actions and you forgave him. You both started spending a lot of time together and Tom started developing a little crush on you. One night you were at your friend’s house and you received a text from Tom.

“Hey, there’s a party tonight at my friend’s house. Wanna go?”

You talked to your friend a bit unsure but she was squealing and so happy for you. “Oh y/n GO! He’s basically asking you out.” You shook your head in denial. “Oh please, he doesn’t like me, I'm not even his type.” She rolled her eyes and made you stand up. “Makeover time then!” She was ecstatic that you just couldn’t stop her. She had you take your clothes off and remain in your bras and panties so she could just completely change everything. She dyed your hair a blond color and she curled it and then she did your makeup giving you a dark Smokey eye. Now it was time for your outfit..

She went through her closet and you never noticed how skimpy and short most of her outfits really were. She truly was a major flirt so it made sense when you thought about it. She gave you a short black dress with a low v cut that your tits might as well have been out and some black heels. She was so happy with how you looked she took a picture. “You need to get your man!” She yelled and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up. It’s not like that. He gets a new girl every week… I’m nothing but a friend.”

At around 10pm Tom picked you up and he stared at you for a bit before having a smile but he tried to play it cool. “Y/n… you look nice.” He said in an almost monotone voice. He didn’t want to make anything obvious. You sort of sighed hoping he’d seem more excited to see you than that and then you tucked some hair behind your ear. He opened the car door for you and you got in holding your purse. The ride was silent and sort of uncomfortable. So many thoughts went through your head. Did he think you dressed too slutty? Did he not like it? Is it because of your hair? You fidgeted with your fingers trying to relax.

At the party you went to immediately get a drink because you really needed one. You walked past everyone going to the kitchen pouring yourself a drink and chugging it. You then drank a few more… 3…? 4…? You started losing track. You wanted to have fun now and you went to the dance floor. As you danced to the songs a guy grabbed your waist and tried grinding against you. You tried telling him to go away but he hadn’t. His grip tightened and you were uncomfortable.Then Tom came over, thank the universe for that. “Get away from her.” He said coldly and the man refused. Tom shrugged before placing a bunch to his face and the guy fell holding his nose.

He grabbed your hand running out of the party and you both laughed and it was so late, the stars shined above the sky and it was beautiful. Eventually you two stopped running because of your heels. “That was AWESOME!” You shouted and he laughed too looking at his knuckles. You panicked seeing the blood and you took your scarf off wrapping his hand. It began to snow and you looked up as the snow hit your face and he just stared at you with a soft smile.

You noticed his smile and you couldn’t help but ask him what his attitude was earlier. “Hey.. when you picked me up you looked so miserable why?” His smile faded and he sighed. “I just wanted to keep it cool. I didn't want to seem obsessed or anything.” You chuckled and put your hands on his cheeks. “Well I think it was mean.” He chuckled and looked down at you. “You really are beautiful y/n. No wonder I fell for you.” You looked at him surprised by this. He liked you this whole time!? “You son of a bitch!” You said playfully pushing him and he chuckled. “I like you too why didn’t you confess!” “I was just scared” he said. He held your waist before kissing you. You were shocked for a moment but you kissed him back tilting your head a bit to deepen it. He broke the kiss and kissed your head.

“You seem a bit drunk, want to go to my place? Watch a movie?” You nodded and he grabbed your hand and you both walked to his place.

Hello to whomever requested, I really hope this was okay for you and I apologize it wasn’t longer I was being attacked by my brother and lost train of thought 😞 💜 Ty for the request and I hope more people request soon

[galaxywarp]

Hey Blue ;v; I just have something that I need to get off my chest, I need to tell somebody, so I hope it’s okay if I tell you: I have a problem with weed. As in, I need to stop using it. I’m thinking of, like, giving my stash to my friends so I can’t use it as easily. I need to tell my counsellor. But I’m scared. I need help. (Btw it’s not like it’s illegal here, it’s legal where I am. I’m scared because I’ve never dealt with something like this before)

Also, I have a question about your sobriety tracker (bc I use it too, just not for substance use) : when do you start tracking? From the last moment you put the drug in your body, or the first moment you sobered up from it/weren’t high?

And… I’m not weak for having a problem with weed, am I? Just bc like. It’s not a hard drug or anything, it feels kind of stupid to have this happen 😭

(Ugh I need to just say it. I’m addicted to it. Thankfully I don’t have much opportunity to use it, but I use it every chance I get, and I just broke one of my own rules that serves as a restriction)

Hi friend. Thanks for reaching out. I’m glad you’re on the step of your recovery where you can acknowledge you have a problem. That’s a really rough step

Especially because of the weird mixed signals and attitudes around weed addiction. I understand where you’re coming from.

And if it helps, this is me, a certified tweaker who used to OD on fentanyl regularly: your weed addiction is still real and still serious and you still deserve support.

Addiction is addiction when it’s hurting you. It sounds like you’ve come to acknowledge that weed is hurting you but even though it is, you’re struggling to stop.

You’re not doing it because it’s fun. You’re doing it because you feel like you need it and going without it is painful. I’ve felt that way about numerous drugs in my lifetime, and weed is definitely one of them. I would smoke myself so numb for months or years on end and it was absolutely miserable.

Im sorry you’re going through this. I have hope you’ll be able to overcome this. Im glad you shared this with me and I hope you can share it with others too.

If you do decide to quit, I know there’s a lot of stuff trying to claim that weed has no withdrawal symptoms. I don’t think that’s true. From lengthy personal experience I really don’t think that’s true. Heroin and meth were soooo much more extreme, don’t get me wrong. It’s apples to oranges — it can’t be compared

But when I stopped smoking pot I felt achy and agitated and bored and restless and upset and don’t let anyone, including yourself, invalidate that you feel shitty. It’s gonna feel bad for a bit and you have every right to own that. Don’t deny yourself some days of lying around whining and snacking and trying to distract yourself.

The good news is, after 2-3 weeks, you’ll start feeling better in a way you probably haven’t felt since you started smoking 24/7

If you need someone to vent to during that time, my askbox is open

Phew! That’s a lot. For your last question: my exact sobriety dates in my trackers are actually ….very loose

The short answer is that my memory of those times is very distorted because of, y know , drugs

The longer answer includes that I picked my dates as dates when I made a conscious decision that I wanted to quit.

My fentanyl date: September 27, 2019

I came home from a camping trip with my family. Because I was in the woods sleeping in a tent with them all weekend, I couldn’t bring my drugs. And I was gonna be in withdrawal

But I had saved a few suboxone from my last detox clinic and I used them over the weekend to keep the pain manageable (suboxone is used for opiate withdrawal so I had been prescribed it off and on for years)

When I got home I still had a small bag left of fentanyl.

I decided….i wasn’t going to buy anymore

And over the next few days I used what was left, all the way down to desperately licking the bag and smoking burnt tin foil, trying to wean myself so my withdrawal symptoms weren’t as bad

And then I ran out. And I stopped. And now im 4 years clean from it

Very similar story with my meth date: April 1st 2023

I still had a little bit of meth left but that was the day I said I didn’t want to get anymore. And when it was gone, it was gone. And now it’s been over a year

[coralsgrimes]

Someone posted a whole video of his album party: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=nzlhDV0PaR8&source_ve_path=MTc4NDI0

There was no way I was listening to his screeching, but I skimmed through the talking parts. It gets worse the more you hear. Also he’s already changing his story/lying about some of the songs again

1) Apparently now he’s into Japanese culture. The theme for the album is the various stages in relationships, but also kintsugi pottery. Breaking something apart (read himself) and building it back into something more precious. He got the Narnia makeup artist to turn him into kintsugi for the album cover for the title song Where the Light Gets In.

2) He’s now changed the story (lied) about Nevermind from being about heartbreak, to now claiming he wrote it with (Kevin???) during the pandemic about anxiety.

3) Stolen Time is where it gets interesting, cause he insinuated he was involved with someone when S&B season 2 started filming. The song is about time and distance and the world (pandemic) keeping people apart, but about two people in different time zones trying to connect to each other. He said he was miserable and “missing someone”, but also said Calahan wrote part of the song. Calahan was actually going through a break up at the time, so how much of the song is about him??? And Benny was just a pining loser. Also, wasn’t that winter when Jules was dating that Charlie guy.

4) He also pathetically shouted out the Save the Crows Netflix petition. Also there is a sex song. Eww

5) The Three New Hearts song about getting his heart broken three times (Jules?) is his favorite

6)Someone said he had a song about telling someone he wouldn’t wait for them Someday, but it’s apparently it’s about bastardizing Dylan Thomas’s poetry. Which is somehow worse. He brought up the English degree though, because he will never let people forget

FIRST OF ALL! thank ye for your sacrifice muffin, here's a potato for ye 🥔🥔🥔

And here's the link

1) Kintsugi? Where the Light Gets In (Let the Light In much lol)? Me thinks someone got himself Did You Know That There's a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd on vinyl xd

2) So the shitty lyrics were actually group attempt? Even worse lol

3) WHAT YE MEAN SOMEONE IN DIFFERENT TIME ZONE WHEN HE WAS IN HUNGARY? But the twitter girlies told me he was sharing same hotel room with Jessie? Valentines day hotel backpack 2 years anniversary soon x.x ANYWAY if I remember well, twin flame and the spiritual healing tongue guy were together like late 2021 like a few weeks after the EP premiere when he was in Canada?? and then he was in Hungary from January till like almost summer? And I remember something about gym bros and some trips they took cuz Calahan was big sad yesssss

4) Can't figure out why ye put these two in one lol maybe cuz he a paid whore? And now he thinks he can do like sweet gentleman lil puppy's version of AC/DC's The Jack?

5) Only three times? I would say we can count more bulianne break ups buuuuuuuut maybe it's because of the three big pap outings? the pandemic stroll with hubby away, the Montana/ice cream date, and then the NY birthday week?

6) Have nothing of substance to say actually lol he should have go for William McGonagall for shits and giggles

[safyresky]

I ENDED UP CALLING MY MOM AND I GOT SOME T E A (a follow up to this post)

Obligatory out of context Jacqueline to preface the vent:

another oldie but goodie, lmao

SO I GAVE INTO THE FEELING IN MY BONES AND CALLED MY MOM

"hey mom, im feelin a lil low bc MIL is mad about the car and is giving Richard crap--"

"oh girl I KNOW I got the lecture too"

I was like UM. HELLO?? GIRL D I S H

so she DISHED and y'all. when my MIL went over last week for a help with technology (bc she is very bad with even the most basic of shit), she APPARENTLY went on the same rant with my MOM, who did NOT appreciate it as my Mom is A) very excited and happy that I got a new car, bc, y'know, now I can go places SAFELY and B) she is of the opinion that it is 100% MY CAR. Which isn't wrong! This was to replace MY car, not Richard's; we just went together and co-signed bc I was more than happy to share it in name (and he was too bc cheaper rates lol). "I didn't want to tell you bc, you know, Richard is ALWAYS with you," says my mom, to which I reply

"JANE it is A-OKAY bc she's giving him SHIT for it too and he's ready to explode about it, they are NOT of the same mind"

It's hard to talk turkey about Richard and his mum with my mom bc back in HS when we met he was v much a Momma's boy, but then, as most people do, he grew up and, as some people do, went away for school and learnt oh god, my mom's kinda toxic??? and emotionally incestuous sometimes??? and does NOT treat me WELL??? and has been working VEYR HARD in the last. 8 or so years. to draw up boundaries with her and such, and this has only increased post-marriage and post me starting therapy a couple of years back as well.

But my Mom does not recognize that, and trying to explain it to her is, frankly, exhausting. So I do what I can to defend his cute lil ass and get on with the point, which is what I did today, but that's not the cruz of the matter here

THE CRUX IS THE TEA!

WHICH IS THAT. MY MIL'S RANT TO MY MOM INCLUDED THE JUICY, JUICY DETAIL OF "you know, why didn't they talk to ME about this decision, I could've helped them get a CHEAP CAR and save MONEY"

Well, Margie. Margie. Sweetie. My darling darling MIL.

1. RICHARD AND I ARE MARRIED IT IS ME AND HIM NOT ME AND HIM AND YOU, AND THIS WAS AN US DECISION, WITH OUR FINANCES, AND OUR TRAVEL/WORK-LIFE BALANCE/MENTAL HEALTH/SAFETY ISSUE.

2. IT ORIGINATED OUT OF ME REPLACING MY CAR; NOT RICHARD REPLACING HIS. AND THAT IS WHY. YOU WERE NOT CONSULTED, BC THE PEOPLE WHO NEEDED TO BE CONSULTED--ME AND RICHARD AND MY DAD (whomst is Fitzy's proper owner) WERE CONSULTED! AND WE TOOK CARE OF IT OURSELVES!

3. WHY WOULD I CONSULT YOU ABOUT A DECISION THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE YOU? AH!

So, there was some interesting stuff I immediately told Richard who replied to my four option plan with a "Well I tried B, and we seem to be going back to C, so I am now going to focus on D" and like, GOOD! YOU DON'T NEED HER OPINION!

ALSO

MY GOD! I DO NOT WANT A CHEAPER CAR. I WANT A GOOD CAR THAT IS RELIABLE AND ISN'T GOING TO BREAK IN ~5 YEARS! AND IF IT DOES, GUESS WHAT? BC IT'S NEWER AND ACQUIRED THROUGH A DEALER, IT'LL BE UNDER A WARRANTY! I DON'T WANT TO GET A LESS SHITTY CAR TO REPLACE MY SHITTY CAR, I WOULD RATHER GET A NEWER ONE THAT I KNOW IS GOING TO LAST A HOT MINUTE! THE LAST 2 HONDAS MY FAM HAS HAD HAVE LASTED 16 YEARS! 16 YEARS! WITH CANADIAN WINTERS! MY GOD! THAT'S IMPRESSIVE AS FUCK AND I LOVE THAT RELIABILITY! AHHHH

So YEAH it's been a DAY and like, I was under the impression that it was ME and RICHARD who were married, not me and him AND MIL! AHHHHH

anyway, I felt better after chatting with my mom, even if she didn't really get it, bc A) TEA and B) she's up at the Falls with my aunts rn and at one point on the phone this happened:

My aunt in the background: JANE. JANE. GIVE ME THE PHONE GIVE ME THE. DANIELLA. DANIELLA CAN YOU HEAR ME

Me: yeah

Aunt: LISTEN, I DON'T KNOW WHY YOUR MIL IS MAD AT YOU, AND IT'S CERTAINLY NONE OF MY BUSINESS, BUT I AM GOING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING THAT I TRULY BELIEVE GRANDPA WOULD'VE TOLD YOU. FOR HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS SITUATION. WHAT TO SAY TO HER

Me: okay...

Aunt: HE HAD A SPECIAL PHRASE, ALRIGHT? NOW, DON'T GET ME WRONG. HE LOVED HIS MOTHER IN LAW. BUT WHEN SHE GOT TO BE TOO MUCH, HE'D TURN TO HER AND SAY, "comes merda"

Me, RECOGNIZING the Portuguese immediately and having to recalculate: DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME MY GRANDFATHER WOULD WANT ME TO TELL MY MIL TO EAT SHIT

My Aunt, without missing a beat: YES

My Mom was laughing soo hard in the background my aunt had to hold the phone for a hot minute lmao.

[trying2cope]

It took me a year to find him.

I searched different internet BDSM sites. After my horrible failed vanilla marriage I'd sought therapy and realized that the inner sub I'd repressed had never gone away. I had put up with my now ex husband's crappy behavior because I was unconsciously submitting to him, but it got worse and worse and more toxic and abusive. So I felt if I was going to have a healthy marriage in the future I would have to be the sub I know I am.

Hunting online for my future Master husband kept me sane as I tried to live my new life as a single mom with two traumatized culture shocked kids. The divorce had involved an international move.

I found him in January. He was one of many Doms who answered my personal on a "Let's Get Married and Breed" sub forum. I know, romantic. But I liked that it specified the marriage first part, so it wasn't just for the kinksters who like anonymous breeding. That's not me at all. I'm deeply monogamous.

I only had two sexual partners prior. Sexual partners meaning their male member had entered one of my holes. The first was my Master when I was 18-19. He had my mouth and ass. But I told him I was saving my v for marriage and he respected that. Truthfully I only went that far with him because I intended to marry him. When we broke up I was devastated-- even though I was the one who had done it. I had started having feelings for someone else, too, and it confused the hell out of me. I spiraled, mental health wise, into reckless and destructive behavior. Thankfully my "temporary insanity" only lasted a few months, but it was enough.

I was growing in my faith and when I got my sanity back decided that all sex was sex and no loopholes. I'd save it all for marriage again. And I did. I found my now ex husband on a Christian dating site instead of a bdsm one. I'd hoped he'd be a little kinky but he wasn't. Our sex life was never very satisfying. I want sex multiple times a day. He was content with once or twice a month. I have never really been sexually satisfied.

So when my marriage ended in his cheating and dishonesty and mental abuse, I decided a few things. My next man would be a Dom. I needed a man with high libido. He needed to be safe around my kids of course. I wanted a man who wanted more children. And I wasn't going to wait for marriage this time.

I felt a little bad about that. I love God and I don't want to sin. But I also knew the kind of man I want, with the libido I want, wouldn't be celibate.

When my eldest kid realized I was thinking about dating she made me promise her whoever I dated would "love Jesus, kids, and cats".

And when I met him, he checked all the boxes.

We talked online for 6 weeks and then he suggested we meet in person. We did and it was amazing. I could not resist him. I melted in his presence. It was magical, like he held the key to me and every other man, even my ex husband, had only ever picked the lock.

I asked him to be my Master and my boyfriend and he agreed fervently as we made out. I let him into my body that night and quickly we fell madly in love with each other. "You're so sweet to me," he kept saying when I'd just be myself. It made me happy but also sad he'd ever been treated shitty.

He was a single parent too, he has a toddler daughter. He came to me, when she was with her mom, so while he met my kids I hadn't yet gotten to meet her.

And that's where I'll end this post for now.

[the-koma-gazette]

The 7th Deadly Skyrim

December 25th, 2011 - Christmas Day

A boy of only 14 years, is gifted the joy of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim for the Xbox 360. This is the beginning of the end, the first contact.

When I received Skyrim for Christmas in 2011, I lived in the middle of nowhere with no TV or Internet, and the only console My Sister and I only had a PS2 and Nintendo DS's. That Christmas was a very special one, as I got an Xbox 360 with Skyrim and my sister got a PS3 with Call of Duty Black Ops. I was not a very big gamer at this point in my life as I mostly just played Pokemon Games on my DS. I was also reading the Inheritance Cycle (Eragon Books) around this time and was really getting into the Fantasy Genre.

When I first started the game, I had no clue what I was getting into and was amazed by the World I was thrown into. I had no clue what I was doing and once I finished the opening sequence, and had all of Skyrim in front of me, I immediately walked into a Giant and a Mammoth and got launched into the Sky. I spent weeks figuring out how the game works and just wandering around the open world. Once, I beat the main story I just wandered the world doing random quests and having fun. The last time I checked my Xbox 360 Skyrim Save I was level 47 and a Stealth Archer like everyone else.

Eventually, I purchased Skyrim for my first shitty laptop that could barely play it on Low Settings. I spent many hours just playing with random mods that added anime weapons and simple stuff like that. I did not put too much time into the original PC release as my laptop could barely handle it.

I then purchased Skyrim Special Edition for Xbox One so I could stop using my Xbox 360 for it. I did not play this version as much as I planned to because shortly after I built a new PC.

On my new PC, I had received Skyrim Special addition free for owning the Original on PC. I then just wandered the world and ignored the main story. I would open the game, find a beautiful spot and just sit there for an hour or two before getting off.

One day, our lord and savior, Todd, released Skyrim Very Special Edition for Amazon Echo Devices. I own a couple of Echo devices and actually enjoyed playing it like a simplified DnD Session. I sometimes start it up while driving or doing dishes and the only downside is that bitch Alexa not hearing me and repeating shit 20 times.

About a year ago, I purchased Skyrim for the Nintendo Switch, the first time I was able to play Skyrim anywhere. Being able to play Skyrim anywhere brought back the feeling of playing Skyrim for the first time, I just wander the world and do any quest that I stumble across and really just play for about an hour then put it down. This had quickly became my preferred way to play Skyrim.

A few months ago, I got a Steam Deck and began another adventure in Skyrim. I installed the Special Edition and created a new character once again. Being able to play portably with a higher resolution than the Nintendo Switch was great, but I still prefer the switch version as it is more portable and the battery lasts longer.

Now, I am once again playing Skyrim but this time in Virtual Reality. This instantly became my favorite VR game even though it isn't perfect. I instantly fell in love with Skyrim VR because I am a simple man, and being able to experience the world I've put hundreds of hours into, in an immersive way and seeing the locations I know so well as if I were actually there has been an amazing experience.

After all these Skyrim ports, I am still wanting more. Release Skyrim Mobile Todd. I am still willing to buy yet another version if it means it will always be in my pocket.

In all seriousness, Skyrim has been a great world to be a part of and a great way to pass time. Skyrim will always have a special place in my heart, as it was the game that turned me into a true gamer and ruined my life. I will never forget the time my Skyrim Wife was murdered in our home by my partner Serana, right in front of our Daughter.

R.I.P Uthgerd the Unbroken, my beloved.

Thank You, Skyrim, for really introducing an amazing Fantasy world to me and making me fall in love with the genre. More importantly, Thank you to my parents, for giving me such an amazing gift as a child when we did not have much, that still gives me so much joy 11 years later.

[sa-kae]

Time to Beg Again 😔

(Made February 10, 2021)

Hey demons, it's me, ya broke nb lesbian (again)

So i quit my other 2 jobs and have started one new one, which is gonna be fine and good, but i got my last paycheck from the other 2 jobs last friday (February 5, 2021) but my new job's first paycheck won't be coming until February 26 so ummm yeowch! Also my 2 paychecks before the last one were about 300 less than the ones before due to hour cuts ahahahha the last paycheck did have a 500 bonus, but that basically made it a bit better than when i was getting good paychecks, so that did not quite make up for 3 shit paychecks.

So i've had to dip into my savings pretty heavy the last couple months which is really not ideal because i'm trying to save up to move out in july because my mom can't afford our current place anymore so she's gonna get kicked out

Also i need to get my car checked ahahahahaa

TLDR; I'm broke due to shitty paychecks and won't be getting a paycheck again for another 3 weeks and i got shit to do that costs money

I can also do stuff for money!

If you want something in exchange for donating/want to pay me for something, i'm an artist! Several forms of traditional and digital, and i can also make custom amiibo cards that actually work, if an amiibo exists i can make a custom of it. I'm also a computer nerd, so i can be commissioned for parts lists or to build a computer for you, if you're local to minnesota/central minnesota/the twin cities area. I also have bugs, if you like bugs or have animals that like bugs! I have dubia roaches in many sizes and 11 species of isopods, a few of which i can culture out right now. I could ship those, but i would prefer if that were local.

P*yP*l: kaeleeah

C*shA*p: KaeleeA

V*nmo: Kaelee-H

[bnhaficsforthesoul]

BNHA characters and their genshin experiences

I've been way into genshin for the past couple months, if anyone wants to play with me message me (I'm lvl 45 rn) but be warned I have shitty internet and am a partial razor main

but this is mainly characters I can see actually putting time into genshin

Bakugou

Mains: Yanfei

his main has probably been most every pyro character at some point

he wants diluc so bad, whenever someone else complains that diluc ruined their pity he wants to ruin their existence

before yanfei his main was probably hu Tao

hed definitely play klee if he had her lmao but he doesnt and is patiently waiting for her rerun

he has a lot of 5 star characters and is f2p, he can always get banner characters within at least the first pity, but for standard 5 stars hes gotten keqing and qiqi way too many times and hes livid

especially as a previous hu tao main, he was begging for Jean, still has yet to come home

hes probably a very high level, not fully maxed out considering he hasnt been playing all that long, he was probably forced to start when the rest of the bakusquad started playing it and he just took off

has really shitty artifact luck though, like his characters arent bad or anything but they could be so, so much better

and ugh hes livid

explores everything, has 100% exploration everywhere, but hes not bored hes still got artifact farming to do and he enjoys terrorizing enemies

in co op he will set you and everything around you on fire. cope.

Todoroki

Mains: Xiao or Ganyu

probably only started playing because Izuku asked him to

kaeya has also been on his team since day 1 and he is never leaving doesnt matter his friendship has been level 10 for weeks now who cares

was f2p until xiao, who didnt want to come home at all, and he finally got him on his 180th pull

now he doesnt care and will buy primogems whenever hes bored

he has a lot of constellations on kaeya and hes so proud of that, probably c4, is considering buying way too many primogems just so that he can hopefully get his c6

now his artifact luck is godly, you'll go into a domain with him and be like ugh I got nothing and hes like I got a 4 piece set with all attack or crit rate/damage main stats like haha I hate you

but yeah his characters are very strong cause of this, but he doesnt put effort into building a lot of them, he only levels up and gives good artifacts to his team and a couple other characters he likes but everyone else just sits there for a while

hes not super obsessed with the game, but he does think its funny seeing bakugou get so upset whenever they do domains together

doesnt even bother doing daily tasks really unless hes trying to save primogems

Midoriya

Mains: Venti

hes so good at building characters, like he looks up builds online and watches those "do INSANE damage with these tips" videos - and he sets out to get them done and he does

bakugou is once again livid whenever they play together, because Izuku barely has to try and can do so much more damage than him

he does have to put in a lot of work for his artifacts though because he doesnt settle for the okay ones he needs the absolute best

he builds his favorite characters the most ofc, but he evenly distributes things to other characters he knows can be useful- those characters might not have insane stats but they're still good

will not kill timmies pigeons, hell hunt birds in the wild for fun though

definitely a food hoarder

also does a lot of exploring and probably has at least 90% for each area

Kaminari

Mains: Lisa

he is 1000% in love with Lisa, he took her quest very seriously

and so many people say shes horrible, he hates it, hes made her crazy strong out of spite

his team consists of only his wifus- meaning lisa, beidou, rosaria, and mona

for a long time beidou was his second but then rosaria came along and hes like ugh big tiddy goth gf, but lisa still remains queen

these are the only characters hes built though, save for a couple like probably razor and xiangling that he used before he fully got this team

is an ayaka saver

he doesnt care too much about most 5 stars but will sometimes get them just to say he has them, but they end up just sitting there rotting away because he never puts work into them

he does have hu tao though and would get ganyu if she ever had a rerun

Kirishima

Mains: Diluc Razor or Beidou

they're all on his team, the last person switches out but it's most likely zhongli or childe

hes all about dps, support who, he just wants to hit hard and do insane damage , so yes he made dps zhongli

except his builds arent that great, with some help his builds are decent, but on his own hell be like ugh that's some sexy 300 damage

probably didnt know what 90% of the stats even meant and just put random attack ones on people and went yeah that looks good

doesnt really care though and is just having fun so hell play how he wants (as he should) but he does have to ask for help when farming bosses

loves exploring but misses so much, hell get distracted easily and end up just messing around

honestly probably hasnt bothered to ascend his world since he got to level 35, if he did the quest hed probably go straight to 45 and even then hed still have extra exp because hes been there for so long oml

but eventually he would have to and hed be trying to do it like :,) this is fine and it takes him a lot of tries but he gets there eventually,,, only to immediately have another one waiting for him poor baby

Mina

Mains: Klee or Xiangling

thinks baizhu is hot (and is correct) so shes desperately waiting for him

was a I must play 24/7 player until after the last story quest, then she got kinda bored but still plays frequently so she can save primogems and likes playing co op

goes into random peoples worlds a lot

shes got some pretty strong characters and is proud of her account

definitely makes tiktoks of her playing with the bakusquad cause it's always v chaotic (it's probably only denki and kirishima most of the time, but sometimes either bakugou or sero will join in)

does all the genshin tiktok trends

shes a pretty high level since shes probably been playing for a while and has most everything done

she loves helping lower level people though she thinks it's so cute and loves the power she feels when she one shots things

Sero

Mains: Xingqui

hes a pretty casual player, kinda only plays when hes bored or the others make him play with them

but his stats arent too bad, they're fairly average but he gets by

has so many primogems because he doesnt bother to wish on anyone, probably wants kazuha though

he does get super invested into the story though, hes so curious about the world and where the story is gonna lead

probably watches a lot of genshin theory videos and now he over thinks everything in the game

he explores a lot, not so much to find every single thing but more so just because he likes looking at everything, hes very excited for all the new places

Shinsou

Mains: Childe

hes a very thorough player, he explores a lot and puts a lot of work into building his characters

most of them arent all that great but he has plans to fix them

his main team is very well built, not the best, but still good

he struggles when he has to switch someone out for a domain or something because his other characters are so painfully mediocre right now and he feels so bad

shinsou, playing a character that can do like max 200 physical damage and biggest damage is like 2 thousand, repeatedly saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you deserve so much better, I'm so sorry

even if it's not the worst damage by far, he feels bad about anything under his main team's stats because they're just so much higher

broke. has no primogems. spent them all on childe and his constellations. does he regret it? well he sure does appreciate his c6 so- hell manage

yes he spent real money on his stupid mass murderer who he loves very much

fights childe every day even though he already collected the treasure, he is but a humble simp

probably decently lucky with wishing like he can beat the 50/50 almost every time

Tamaki

Mains: Chongyun and Sucrose

he only started playing recently, probably kirishima got him into it, but he immediately fell in love

kirishima was like tell me when you're level 16 so we can play together !!! and 2 days later tamaki was level 16 and kiri was shook because how the hell did he do it so fast

hates domains, the dread he feels when he realizes the lower level isnt going to give him anything anymore, and he has to move up to the next, and the next,,

asks kirishima to help him only to realize he isnt much help, is too nice to say that so he let's kiri keep trying- one day kiri gets deku to play with the two of them and tamaki almost cries because finally he can get through the level 90 domain and actually get things ugh

cannot get xingqui to save his life he refuses to come home and poor tamaki is so sad he wants him a lot hes even got all his materials saved up

Monoma

Mains: Ningguang

honestly doesnt play all that much but takes pride in making his account seem v good, is a whale

but hes very good at the game, didnt know what the artifacts were for at first and gave people ones based on how they looked but once he figured it out hes fixed them

is a very standard player, logs in every day to do his commissions and use his resin then logs out, he doesnt put too much time into the game and doesnt worry if he misses a day or two

worships ningguang, also really likes xinyan, his other team members are probably venti and albedo

has every single banner 5 star that has come out since he started playing, probably doesnt have klee though and is v upset about it, and is thanking the heavens for all the reruns lately

also doesnt have keqing and wants her a lot cause he likes her

accepts every single co op request he gets, and despite what a lot may think hes actually a very nice person to play with, not toxic at all - unless you're someone he knows then he might be mean to you shshshsh

Shigaraki

Mains: Razor

haha isnt it so odd that they sound so similar haha (if you dont know they have the same japanese va and I'm guessing hed play it in Japanese)

obviously he can be kinda busy ya know being a criminal and all that but when hes not he puts a lot of time into genshin

sadly doesnt have very good luck when it comes to characters or artifacts, but hes doing his best even with 0 primogems and his 50% crit rate

doesnt explore all that much, most of the exploring hes done came from him trying to get all the oculus

his razor is so good though, except that's the only character hes put tons of effort into

except for now zhongli, hes not replacing razor but ugh does he love zhongli

but his other characters are pretty mediocre at best, he could build them if he wanted to, hes good enough at gaming to figure it out, he just doesnt have the time to spend to do it so he focuses on his main team

also (spoiler alert kinda) when we had to go to the wolf spirit to fight the abyss herald and razor was there, afterwards how razor was saying how he was too weak and stuff and was super sad, at that very moment shiggy decided the entire abyss order had to be destroyed - sorry aether (he chose lumine) but razor is more important than you

[faerune]

the sun has come to save me

pairing: johnny silverhand x f!v [vera volakov]

summary: in the aftermath of mikoshi's destruction, johnny takes his old body for a joyride and v accepts an offer from the aldecaldos though they can't seem to shake the other's presence. johnny shows up for a drink.

warnings: smut with feelings! drinking! smoking! spoilers!

[AO3]

Johnny Silverhand is on her doorstep and boy, if her teeny bopper self could be here-

But she isn’t and Johnny barely looks at her when he shoves inside with not a hello but a “Where you keep your booze?” 

They both seem to realize how redundant the question is when Johnny makes a b-line for the cabinet stocked with half-finished liquor bottles and mixers. 

Vera clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth and frowns at him, shoving the door closed. She hasn’t seen him for weeks. Not since Viktor gave him the all clear. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed he was rearing to take his new...well, old body out for a spin.

Still, a text to let her know he wasn’t dead in a gutter would have been nice. She had worked damn hard to get that body back for him. She’s surprised he didn’t take it and run; get back to doing what he does best — shredding in some sleazy bar for free drinks or sniffing out any way to fuck a corp over.

Vera shifts on her bare feet, hip cocked out and her arms crossed. She bites her tongue because it’s weird how much the picture of a pissed girlfriend she must be right now. 

She wanders over to where Johnny has uncorked a bottle of whiskey that’s been gathering dust in her cabinet. He pours it garishly into mismatched cups and hands her one. It’s the first time he looks at her, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“It’s like...ten in the morning,” Vera tells him, motioning toward the window aglow with sunlight.

“Like you give a shit,” he counters.

Vera ponders that for a moment and then shrugs, throwing the glass back. The whiskey burns her throat and she makes a disgusted noise, a little shiver shaking through her. Vera has never liked whiskey and regretfully his tolerance for it was not something they shared now. She catches Johnny’s crooked teasing smile before he takes the cup and bottle, swaggering over to her couch.

She wonders if he has noticed that — that they have bled into each other like ink on a soaked page. It is no coincidence that Vera has suddenly developed the ability to write with her left hand. And gained an affinity for shitty 2020s alternative rock.

Vera doesn’t bring her cup with her but follows him and sinks onto the couch with him, folding her long legs underneath her. 

“So, where have you been?” 

Johnny leans against the back of the couch, long silver arm stretching over the back and mirrors her so their bodies are turned towards each other. He takes a thoughtful sip and Vera fights the urge to roll her eyes. Always one for the dramatics. Though, it’s not like she can judge. Her annoyance with him has simpered to a warm, idle irritation. Something born more out of habit and unfortunate fondness for the asshole.

“Explorin’ the city. Seein’ what’s changed-” he begins. He points at her. “On my own terms. You were a good tour guide, V but-

“So…getting fucked up,” Vera continues with a wry smile.

Johnny laughs and sets his drink down, “Little bit of that too.”

“Why are you here, Johnny?” she finds herself asking, resting her cheek on her fist. 

“Realized we never celebrated,” he tells her, relaxing back with a satisfied grunt and aims his eyes at her. “Got our bodies, our lives. Hell, I can’t figure anything better to drink to.”

“We got lucky,” Vera tells him as both a grateful praise and a truthful warning. The cautious paranoia she has adopted has nothing to do with his influence that’s for sure.

“When’d you become so pessimistic,” Johnny scoffs. “What happened to my favorite starry-eyed little merc?”

Vera avoids his eyes, stares down at a scratch in her coffee table. Her manicured nails play with the studs in her ear. 

“You miss me?” 

Johnny’s voice comes as a surprise, thick and sticky with emotion. When she looks up, he’s staring right at her, studying her face. Vera’s chest tightens. Maybe he does feel that itch, the unfamiliar and haunting foreignness of being alone in the silence of a room. The lingering touch of someone else on the soul.

“You wish,” she teases dryly but the tightness in her throat prevents it from packing the intended punch. Vera reaches out for the bottle because suddenly that burn seems all the more appealing. It’s easier the second time around but she still can’t help the little twist her face does. He takes the bottle from her, again without comment. This time, however, his face looks serious and inquisitive.

Instead of prodding, filling the silence with words she waits patiently. It’s a hard habit to break but she’s getting better at it.

“Fuck,” Johnny grunts, leaning forward to rub the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Feel like I’m goin’ insane.”

Vera watches him — the fall of his hair in a dark curtain around his face, the curve of his back in the black t-shirt he’s wearing. The couch dips with the shift of his weight and it hits her again like it always does. She could reach out and touch him right now.

“I keep tryin’ to talk to you,” Johnny says in disbelief. “Keep forgetting I’m not in your head anymore.”

She lets out a breath of relief.

“Me too.” 

Vera’s lips curve into a tight-lipped smile, “Keep doing shit just to piss you off so you’ll talk to me.”

Johnny laughs at that. Well and truly laughs, deep in his belly. Vera isn’t sure she’s ever heard him laugh like that. It’s awfully contagious because pretty soon she is laughing with him.

“Been chewing on that fucking gum you chomp on,” Johnny tells her, snapping his ‘ganic fingers together. “Fuck what is it-”

“Cherrygasm?” Vera grins. 

“Shit, yeah,” Johnny says, shaking his head and leaning back against the couch. “Get antsy if I don’t taste that teeth-rotting shit. Got me to quit smokin’ at least.”

Vera lets out an uncharacteristic snort, “Well, shit, I started.”

“Ah, V…” Johnny begins.

She gasps and clamps her hand on his shoulder, sitting up onto her knees in excitement, “Don’t tell me The Johnny Silverhand is about to lecture me on smoking right now.”

Johnny’s hand cups the back of her thigh and moves it to the other side of his waist. Vera blinks dumbly down at him, her hands held up in front of her, limp and awkward. The two stare at each other for a moment but Johnny’s chrome hand doesn’t leave her bare skin. God, he almost looks...scared shitless.

Her voice is tight and quiet when she speaks.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

Vera’s lips are on his. It’s rough, sudden and desperate as he responds in kind. A frantic kind of want starts to burn in her belly. Johnny is solid. Warm. Real. Her fingers sliding into his hair, Johnny grasping at her ass with bruising eagerness and flips her onto her back. He’s over top of her, around her. 

Her thighs spread so his slim hips can settle between them. Johnny’s hand tightens around her thigh and he grinds into her through the soft fabric of her shorts. A little sound leaves her mouth that she can’t manage to swallow. He smells like shitty motel soap and his tongue tastes like fucking bubblegum just like he said. Their frantic hands both war with her shirt for a moment, pulling in every which way as they scramble to get it off. 

Vera is exposed to the chill of her apartment, colorful tattoos spread over her heavy breasts, her stomach and the curves of her hips.

He is touching her, touching with long calloused fingers and chilled chrome; and is it a surprise she whines when he pinches her nipple between his silver fingers? Her head swims as it tries to grasp onto reality. Johnny’s warm mouth latches over her other breast with the kind of messy hot licks that make her squirm. 

“Fuck,” she breathes, arching up into his mouth as he sucks greedily at her skin. Her breast, her collarbone, her stomach. Johnny nips at skin and soothes away the sting with a hot tongue. 

Vera tugs roughly at his hair enough to make him groan deep in his chest. Is this what she has been aching for? To have him inside of her again?

“Johnny,” she huffs impatiently, losing grip on the back hem of his shirt when he shifts to lick and bite at the one of the pistols on her hips. Almost angered by the interruption, he moves up onto his knees and tears his shirt off over his head. Vera’s hands grab him, pull him back down to her. She needs to feel him. The solid weight of his body, the brush of the hair on his chest over her sensitive nipples, the ragged border of his shoulder where skin meets metal. 

Johnny licks at her neck, loves roughly at her sensitive skin. Vera lets out another keen of impatience, rolling up against him as he rocks against her through their pants. Then he’s down again, trailing long tails of heat with his tongue.

She’s about to tell him to stop fucking around when he lifts her legs and yanks her shorts off in a swift motion.

“Fuck,” he groans, only giving himself a breath to gaze over her before tossing her legs over his shoulders. A happy purr of pride burns through her chest at that. Johnny buries himself between her thighs. Vera’s hand reaches overhead and grabs the edge of a velvet cushion as he covers her with his mouth and laps eagerly at her. 

A moan, a breath-

She presses him between her legs with a hand on the back of his head, tangling again in the silk strands of black hair. Her body shudders, heat having hit her like a truck, burning through her body. Johnny’s tongue drags the small amount of wetness that has gathered at her opening and licks it all over her cunt. His hands grab her hips and yanks her closer to him, her ass lifted a little into his arms. 

He lets her hips rock up against his tongue desperately but his clenched fist on her thigh that will surely bruise tells her that he normally does not allow this. Blinding pleasure aches through her all the way to her fingertips. Pretty moans and gasped whimpers offered to the room. It drowns out the news reporter babbling away on the radio.

Vera’s concerns and thoughts of past, future and present have been lost to her frantic train of thought.. It is only the two of them again. It is only Johnny between her legs flicking his talented tongue over her and pressing two warm fingers inside. Vera lets out a breathless, broken moan and bears down on them, her knuckles white as she grasps at the cushions and his hair in an effort to ground herself.

She wants to be filled, wants him, wants more, more, more.

Her chest is tight, her body is crying for it, begging for him and-

Vera’s lips only manage the first syllable of his name as her release crashes through her like a booming stroke of thunder. She moans loudly to the ceiling, her ankles locking together between Johnny’s shoulder blades. This is when he presses her down, holds her to the Earth, while she keens and groans deep in her chest for him. 

Johnny doesn’t wait till she’s finished before prying her thighs away from his head and scrambling to settle above her. Her mind is a pleasured daze as he shoves his pants down his hips just enough to pull himself from the tight pleather. It’s good he doesn’t wait because he’s big when he slides into her, her cunt giving way to him in one stroke with how slick she is. Johnny lavishes his tongue over her ear, his breath hot and his hands greedy, touching and grabbing at any part of her he can reach.

Vera wraps herself around him — legs hitched up around his waist, arms around his middle. It feels as if she can’t seem to get her breath back but it’s alright because Johnny’s got her, fuck he’s got her in his arms and he’s inside her. She buries her face into his neck and thinks about how much she doesn’t want to let go of him. Vera cannot let go of anyone. Cannot give up. How many times has he called her stubborn?

Johnny grinds into her; stretches her and licks at her collarbone to smooth the dull sting inside of her. It’s been a long time for her and maybe he remembers that. Memories of hers she didn’t keep too well guarded— far too preoccupied with other parts of her psyche she didn’t want anyone to touch. 

He grunts into her skin, bruising grip still on her hip and starts to fuck her hard. He stays seated within her, content not to draw himself out of her tightness. Johnny’s thrusts are hard and quick and shallow, leaving her breathless. Vera concludes that if he stops and leaves her aching and empty she would shatter. 

Johnny starts groaning and huffing, breathing V and then Vera and then baby and it could be the force of his pace but she swears she feels him shaking in her arms. 

He tightens, stills and grunts a slur of profanities against her neck before he relaxes against her. 

Vera starts to chase her breath, staring at the cracks in her ceiling while his weight settles on top of her. It is quiet except for their breaths and the continued drone of the radio. Vera tries to latch onto the words but she can’t seem to make sense of them at the moment, heart pounding in her ears. The two of them, sticky chests pressed together and breathing in an awkward, frantic tandem. Her fingers slide up over his shoulders and back into his hair, his breath hot and wet as it beats against her neck. 

Johnny doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon but she still keeps her arms around him, even if her legs have fallen back apart like jelly noodles.

When he finally picks his head up, her breathing has returned to normal. The edges of his hair are damp with sweat when she combs it from his face. 

“You good?” Johnny asks her. She isn’t looking in his eyes, a burn of intimacy blooming in her chest that is hard to bear.

“Yeah,” Vera nods and aches when they disentangle themselves from each other. Vera reaches down and snatches up his t-shirt, tugging it on to cover herself. Johnny instead kicks his pants off the rest of the way and sprawls naked on her couch. There is a long and tender moment of silence between them, Johnny watching her curl her legs under her, tucking herself into the curved corner of the couch. 

She reaches over the back to grab her half-empty box of smokes. Vera holds her lighter in her shaking hands and lights it with just a bit of difficulty. The burning drag feels good, settles the nerves that are bounding in her body; heart still pounding under his gaze. 

Satisfaction. A heart-rending something she still does not want to name and thinks she might not have to. Loneliness, an empty ache with him so far away —  though it may just be a foot or two in reality. Guilt too. 

“I’m leaving.”

“Fuck, I know it wasn’t bad,” Johnny jokes and smirks lazily. It falls when she doesn’t chide him or smile back at him. Vera takes another shaky drag.

“Joining the Aldecaldos when they leave for Arizona. We leave in two days.”

Vera is an expert now in catching the quick strike of hurt in his features. No matter the words he slings at her she can see it and that fucking scares him. Vera knows because it scares the shit out of her too. 

“Spit it out,” Vera huffs in irritation, anxiously flicking the ashes from the cig.

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs with a shake of his head, “Why in the fuck would you wanna live the rest of your life with tarmac rats, eatin’ sand and-”

“It’s my fucking life, Johnny,” Vera snaps angrily, forcefully flicking more embers into the ashtray she pulled into her lap. “Finally. Just mine.”

Vera laughs breathlessly and shakes her head in disbelief. 

“This city ate us alive. We are lucky to even be sitting here,” Vera tells him forcefully, her finger raised in accusation. 

“Be fucking smarter next time then. You’re really going to give up? Let all of them-”

“All of who?!” Vera exclaims. “Arasaka? Millitech? Petrochem? NCPD?”

She stands, almost stumbling in her anger. The ashtray clatters onto the table. Johnny sits back and glares at her, watching her body curl in fury.

“Never thought you’d be a fucking pussy, V,” he snarls, yanking his pants back on when he stands.

“Aren’t you tired of fighting?” V breathes, staring up at him. There is a softness to her body, her voice — not of defeat but of exhaustion. “Johnny, this city takes . That’s all it does. It gives nothing. It took you. It took me. It took-”

Jackie. Evelyn. Her mother-

Vera leans over, blowing a column of smoke from the corner of her mouth and stubs out the cigarette.

“For some fucking reason we have another chance. I’m not going to waste it throwing my bloody corpse against a fucking wall like every promise this city makes isn’t a fucking lie .”

Johnny’s jaw is tight but he doesn’t speak. It’s how Vera knows there are no more walls he can throw up.

“A new start. It’s more than any dirtgirl from Heywood could ask for,” Vera tells him.

“Okay,” he tells her with a shrug.

“Okay?” 

“Both know you won’t listen to me anyway,” Johnny grunts, arms crossing over his chest. A flippant flick of his hand. Still, there is something in his resolution. Something bittersweet and maudlin. Her body swims with the same ache.

She kisses him again, softer this time, arms threading around his waist. It isn’t long before Johnny lifts her into his arms.

 -

Vera’s apartment is darkened save for the warm glow of a lamp and the ever-present neon flicker outside her window. One of her neighbors is playing some music that booms through the walls, into her stomach. A bright green and yellow light dances over Johnny’s face, cuts sharp lines into his cheeks. She refuses to let him take a drag of her cigarette, the pair of them tangled in sweaty sheets on her bed.

Vera leans her cheek against the side of his chest, staring up at the ceiling. He has an arm looped around her and she can’t resist playing idly running her thumb over each of his fingers.

“Panam and I are going to say goodbye to the city. Sunset on that bridge in Westbrook. Two days.”

They both know why she’s mentioning it.

The silent dark of the apartment swallows their silence.

 -

Two days later, Vera is bathed in sunset glow as she says her farewells to the city skyline. A tangle of emotions ache in her chest but the heaviness is peeling from her shoulders like a bad sunburn. Panam had told her to take a long look. She left Vera with a reassuring touch on the shoulder and an understanding Vera had only found a handful of times before.

Johnny had left her apartment that morning after without waking her. Neither of them were really equipped for goodbyes anyway. How did you say goodbye to someone who knew you like that? Vera felt untethered, light and bittersweet. Despite herself, when she closed her eyes she could still feel the ache of tears pressing forth. A few fell freely, quickly swept away by a manicured finger.

So lost in fighting back the well of emotion in her chest, Vera doesn’t hear the car until it comes roaring around the last curve in the hills. The tarmac waves with heat, the shiny silver metal reflecting sunrays into her eyes. She squints against the brightness and eyes the red racing stripe that cuts across the back half of the car.

It rumbles to a stop at the curb. Too far away, Vera decides, pushing off the half-wall she had leaned her height against. She is already taking long strides — that might have been a jog if her legs were shorter — when the driver ducks out of the car and loops around to the hood.

“Just so you know,” Johnny begins, arms crossed, leaning back against his Porsche. “I get sand in my asscrack once and I’m leaving-”

“Johnny,” Vera huffs, pulling him down for a hard, messy kiss once she reaches him. An arm loops loosely around her waist, tugging her closer. Against his lips, she lets out a satisfied sigh, a beautiful, peaceful smile gracing her features in sharp contrast to the annoyed, fond tone that leaves her lips. “Stop talking.”

Johnny smirks lazily and straightens with a grunt.

“Know I can’t do that V.”

[raleighcarrera]

falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage 

~10.5k words | T

i.

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out? 

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs. 

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all. 

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school. 

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

v.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident. 

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it. 

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him. 

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it. 

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished. 

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny. 

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face. 

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind. 

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone. 

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so. 

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life. 

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty. 

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is. 

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars. 

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life. 

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently. 

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer. 

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.” 

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited. 

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him. 

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.” 

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

x.

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press. 

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that. 

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he? 

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different. 

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right? 

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway. 

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by. 

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio. 

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that. 

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar. 

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv. 

things go really well, until they don’t. 

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her. 

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all. 

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person. 

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know. 

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.” 

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...” 

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long. 

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun. 

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly. 

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before. 

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated. 

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common. 

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them. 

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been. 

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile. 

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we. 

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her. 

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together. 

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it. 

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs. 

[passivenovember]

Walking Home (v)., the  Tourniquet

For you @thursday-knight. Lysm

They’re going to let Billy out of that horrible, gray padded room on Tuesday, which Steve snorts at over the phone. 

“What, you think that’s fuckin’ funny or something?”

“No, It’s just.” It’s kind of funny. Steve wraps the phone chord around his hand. Nice and tight, like a tourniquet. “Tuesday’s weird.”

“Tuesday’s...weird?”

“Yeah.”

Steve can hear something, like. The clack of a pen. It’s a common nervous tick, a way to cope, but. Steve’s never seen any one hold a bic the way Billy does. 

Barrel in his palm. Clicking the register with his pointer finger, like. He’s pressing Reagan’s Big Red Button. The one to blow up the world.

“What’s so weird about a Tuesday release, man?”

“Ruining the start of a week by spending it in the hospital and then having to use the rest of it adjusting to life outside?”  Steve shrugs, remembering that Billy can’t see him. “They could at least give you a Friday. Then you’d have the weekend, right?”

Billy’s grin is somehow manifested in the honey drip of his voice. “Been locked up for six months, Harrington, what’s two more days?”

And that could be true.

Steve doesn’t feel like so much time has passed. The rise and fall of the moon, the turn of the seasons, the way Billy has to wear fuzzy socks with those little grips on them to stay warm in beige corridors, have been lost on Steve. 

Tainted. Wrapped in paper the exact shade of survival. Surgeries and afternoons carpooling the kids to Hawkins general, paying Barry Mildred to do Billy’s algebra homework for him, and. 

Convincing everyone.

Himself, too.

That Billy would be alright. Steve had to do everything he could to get Billy ready for the world, or.

The world ready for him.

“Has it really been that long?” Steve wonders.

And Billy laughs. “Maybe not for you, King Steve. Some of us had to spend the whole of it in one room.” It doesn’t sound as painful as it usually does.

Steve just nods again. To himself.

He remembers the leaves changing around the time Billy learned to walk again. Halloween. Bringing left-over contraband to spoil Billy’s strict diet of organic bullshit while his body healed itself. Amber leaves complimenting blue eyes as they made unsteady laps around the courtyard together. 

Steve holding his arm out time and time again, and. Billy taking it. 

Christmas. Snowball fights with the kids, crystals on long blonde eyelashes while that stubborn mouth fought to return every smile Max threw his way. Those very same lashes, wet with tears, when Billy opened a vintage copy of Cider House Rules, on Christmas Eve. 

All, you really shouldn’t be spending the holiday in a psych ward, Harrington.

But they held hands for the first time that night. Steve said, where else would I want to be?

And Billy, just. Took what he could get--nothing more.

Steve remembers a lot of things. Happiness. Rocky, at first, unearned, a slide into friendship which turned into peachy cheeks that rivaled the setting sun.

Summer, Fall, Winter, and.

February.

Steve must have missed it. All of it, while he was busy being grateful that Billy was alive. 

He checks the calendar.

“You’ll be out in time for Valentines,” He says. Because that’s important, somehow. “Got any big plans?”

“Oh, for sure.” Billy clicks his pen. One-two-three. “Got a girl waiting for me on the outside, thought we could catch a movie.”

Steve knows. 

He knows it isn’t true, that Billy’s just yanking his ridiculously short chain, but. Steve’s heart beats in time with the click of a pen. Advancing and overtaking the tempo to orchestrate a symphony of worry.

Of fear.

It used to taste like copper. Black slime and dirty snow, but now it tastes like mashed potatoes served on a hospital lunch tray. Contraband sweets. Change and forced endings and--

Steve chokes on something. A laugh that falls wrong halfway through, like a sob colored to fit summer days. “What are you doing after?”

The clacking stops. “Just fucking with you, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Was a joke, I’m not.” Billy clears his throat. “Everyone who matters came to see me while I was here.” 

Steve just nods. Frantically, because he hears words that aren’t there. Meaning that couldn’t possibly color his life in broad strokes. He thinks about what Billy’s saying, what he really means. 

Everyone who matters.

“Where are you staying? Like, when you get out,.” Steve mutters. The chord is wrapped around his hand again. He leans against the wall, wincing as the pins from his bulletin board pinch his shoulder blades. “You got a place to crash?”

Billy doesn’t say anything. 

Steve clears his throat. “You aren’t going back, right? You’re not going. Home?”

“To Neil’s?” 

And Steve gets the distinction. Feels it settle like an axe between his first three ribs. “Yeah.”

Billy sighs. “No, fuck that. Figured I’d ask around. See if there are any beds open at RCA.” Recovery Centers of America, that’s. 

“That’s in Indianapolis.”

“Yeah,” Billy says flatly. Steve thinks, distantly, that he sounds almost. Annoyed. “Owens says there’s a car. It’ll take me wherever I want, long as I stay in State.”

“You want to go away?”

“Sure,” Billy says bluntly. “Wouldn’t hurt to leave this place behind, you know. Maybe go somewhere new--”

“Stay with me.”

Steve’s heart is beating in his eyeballs.

The world falls silent. Only for a moment, for as long as it takes for Billy to drop something on the ground and then swear under his breath. His voice shakes, like strands in the wind. “What?”

“At my apartment,” Steve clarifies. He untangles the phone chord which has somehow worked its way to his elbow. “It’s small and shitty, and the couch only has three legs, but.”

Steve closes his eyes and hopes against hope, praying to every god who has ever existed since the beginning of time and everyone who will come after, that Billy can hear every meaning, every hidden word.

“You could.” Steve says softly. “If you wanted to.”

The clacking starts up again, slow and measured. Steve can hear Billy’s breath. The ragged intake of air that sounds painful, like a boy clinging to life in smoke filled memories. Holding on to his hand, saying, I don’t want to die, Steve, please.

It plants Steve’s feet in an ambulance. It tips the string of a tourniquet, bloody and wet with slime in his hands. It makes him remember. 

Pull it tighter, kid, come on.

And.

He’s losing a lot of blood.

And.

Steve, we’re losing him. 

And.

Kid, step away from the body.

Billy clears his throat. “You mean it?” He asks, and.

Steve lets go of a breath. “Of course I do.”

“You’ll get tired of me.” Billy’s voice, it sounds like shattering windows. Steve doesn’t say anything. Can’t respond, because. Nothing in life is more impossible. 

The world falls silent.

Only for a moment, as long as it takes for Steve to close his eyes. “I can’t watch you get in that car and walk away, Billy.”

It’s nothing. Only a part of how he feels. Only a drop of what he wants, but. It sets things in motion again. 

Billy clears his throat. “Alright,” He says. “Give me the address.”

--

Steve wants it to be something other than what it is.

He buys new sheets. Fern green satin, five-hundred thread count and worth a third of what he has in savings. 

They aren’t what he’d usually go for, color or texture, but. The lady at the department store says muted colors are good for preventing overstimulation after trauma and satin is gentle on the skin. Warm, too, which is always a good thing.

Billy says it feels like winter, now. All, I’m a goddamn human snow globe.

Buying sheets on Valentines, it.

Makes Steve hope that this is something else. 

That Billy will insist on putting his new sheets on Steve’s bed instead of the couch in the living room. That they’ll sleep together here, just how they always did in Billy’s hospital bed. 

Chest to chest. 

Billy’s head tucked under Steve’s chin, but.

Mostly Steve being eaten alive by the guilt.

For feeling like this is the start of their lives. That everything before now--living with his parents, fighting monsters, feeling useless in every sense of the word...

All of it was a dream. 

Preparation for the day he would open the front door and find Billy there, waiting.

Steve takes the sheets back to his apartment. He makes up the living room, rearranging the furniture so Billy can have his own space. The couch as a bed and the coffee table as a book shelf.

Billy has a lot of books.

More than anyone Steve’s ever met, more than Robin and Nancy Wheeler combined and Steve doesn’t own any books himself, or. A place to put them. His apartment is the size of a shoebox.

He’ll get rid of the stuff he doesn’t use anymore. 

He’ll make room. 

In his apartment, in his miniscule life, so that Billy has something of his own. 

And maybe after they’re settled in and the bills are paid for the month, Steve will pick up extra shifts at the video store until he can afford buy one. 

A nice, big oak bookshelf for Billy to house his favorites. 

--

He locks himself in the bathroom an hour after moving in.

Which, you know. Throws the evening for a loop. 

He seems happy when Steve opens the front door, dropping his box of books by the shoe rack and toeing his boots off with a grin. 

His body is loose, and. Open, Like he’s comfortable. Billy pokes around the apartment, making fun of the weird shit hanging up on the walls while Steve cooks dinner.

“You gotta get some real art in here, man.” Billy says. It sounds like he’s by the record player, digging through the stack of vinyl's Steve keeps in a shoe box by the T.V. “And some real music, holy shit. How have you been living like this?”

“I’ve been living just fine, fuck you very much.” 

“You have three copies of Waterloo,” Billy snorts. As if that proves something.

He’s crouched by the mosaic of finger paintings left by Holly Wheeler, studying a particularly abstract piece when Steve hands him a glass of sparkling cider.

“Everyone’s gotta have their backup copies of Waterloo, you know, extra in case you gotta dole them out to strangers.” Steve clinks their glasses together. “Cheers.”

Billy swishes the drink around with a lift of his eyebrow. “You trying to get in my pants, Harrington?”

“It’s not alcohol.”

“Why is it bubbly?” Billy accuses, lifting the glass to sniff at it suspiciously. His nose wrinkles, like a bunny rabbit. 

Steve laughs. “It’s sparkling cider. Cherry flavored.”

“Cherry?” Billy snorts, his cheeks glowing pink like little love hearts. “That’s definitely a sex flavor.” 

“It’s a celebration flavor, you dick.” Steve chuckles again. He files through the records he does have, selecting one he thinks Billy can tolerate. “What do you think of Rumours?”

Billy’s wandered to the kitchen. “Hate the activity, dig the album.” He calls.

The sound of cabinets opening and slamming shut echo through the space while Steve figures out the settings for this vinyl, fiddling with the tiny knobs until Songbird filters through at a pace that seems right.

“Ice is in the freezer,” Steve announces, and.

Billy rounds the corner with a bag of chips, happy little smirk on his face. Steve frowns.

“I’m fixing dinner--”

“I haven’t had Doritos in almost a year, Harrington.” Billy says roughly. He rips open the bag, collapsing next to Steve on the floor by the music stand. Billy takes one and licks the cheese dust off the chip, holding the bag out, like. “Want one?”

Steve face hurts from smiling so much. “Nah, I’m good.”

Billy leans back against the wall, rolling his eyes. “What, don’t eat carbs after four p.m. or something?”

And Steve filters through a million answers, all of which make it sound like he’s trying to get laid, so. He settles in next to Billy, letting his eyes fall closed with the sway of the music.

“No, just. Don’t wanna ruin my dinner.”

Billy snorts, bag crinkling loudly as he dives in for another handful. “I could eat twelve bags of this shit and still go ape on whatever rich boy thing you whipped up.” Billy asses him, head cocked to the side. “Bet the cheese makes you fart.” He concludes.

Steve blinks at him. “You’re disgusting--”

“Processed cheese makes everyone shit their pants, man, that’s like.” Billy wipes his hands on Steve’s leg. “Common knowledge.”

Steve makes a noise like a runover chicken, wiping frantically at the trousers he bought at the Goodwill, just for tonight. 

He wets his fingers with spit, wincing and scrubbing at the bright line of orange nacho cheese that stains his corduroy flares. 

The shape of Billy’s fingers is unmistakable. “I’m starting to regret asking you to move in.”

“Thought I was just crashing here until--”

“Now that you’re here I’m no letting you leave,” Steve smiles at him, the weight of it softening when Billy’s cheeks glow pink again. He knocks their shoulders together. “You’re stuck with me.”

Billy falls silent after that.

Shoveling in handful after handful of Doritos and crunching so loudly that Steve can’t get wrapped up in the bass line on the Chain. 

“Dude, you gotta chew so loud?” Steve asks, shoving Billy’s hand away when he reaches to smear nacho dust down the length of Steve’s neck. “My god, you’re a menace.”

“You love it,” Billy giggles, and.

They stare at each other for a moment. Sort of watching the brush of eyelashes against cheekbones while the music plays. 

A backdrop to the start of something Steve doesn’t have a name for.

--

Night falls and Billy doesn’t come out of the bathroom.

The food has been stored, the dishes put away, but the light which escapes like neon strips of gold to kiss the mouth of the hall carpet never flicks off. Never giving way to rest.

Steve thinks about waiting for him. 

He thinks about going to bed, jiggling the handle to make sure Billy’s okay, breaking the door down when two hours turns to three but that seems intrusive. 

If Billy wanted company he would ask. And if he wanted to come out he would, right?

Steve feels like an idiot. 

Pacing back and forth between the living room and the hallway, trying not to make it obvious that he’s right in the thick of gut-wrenching worry. Violent, intrusive images of brain splattered tile fill his mind. 

Billy could be hurt, or. Asleep in the bathtub. Maybe he slipped out the bathroom window while Steve was turning down the couch for him, making the space comfortable.

Maybe he was never here to begin with. Maybe Steve dreamt him up.

Steve paces back and forth, back and forth, wrestling with the urge to call Dr. Owens and ask what he should do, until the clock above the stove reads 11:34 pm and he has no choice but to call it a night.

His knuckles sound like a machine gun when he taps on the door. 

From behind the oak barrier, Billy makes a noise like he was startled out of sleep. Steve can hear him moving around, when he asks, “You okay? Been in there for a few hours.”

Billy opens the door.

His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks a little flushed, like.

“Have you been crying?” Steve doesn’t want him to cry. Tears and hallow feelings, they have no place in the stretch of nightfall that Steve has built for them. 

He feels himself reaching for Billy on impulse, trying to pull their bodies together, but Billy steps back. 

Away. 

To make room for Steve in the bathroom or to make a run for it, Steve isn’t sure. He knots his fingers together for safe keeping. 

“Of course not, don’t be fucking.” Billy’s voice cracks right down the middle, like. A loaf of bread that has been in the oven for far too long. His eyes are glassy when he looks up, and.

Distant.

Steve feels like an asshole. He leans against the door jam. “I can call Dr. Owens, if you want.” 

Billy stares at him. “Why would I want that?”

“You just seem--”

“I seem like what, Steve?” Billy spits. “You gonna psychoanalyze me too, huh?”

Steve grits his teeth against the urge to. Fight back. “It’s just when I started getting the couch ready, you seemed.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words carefully. “Nervous? Afraid, maybe, just a little. Which is alright. It can be scary sleeping alone in a new place, and--”

“I’m not five years old, Harrington, I can handle a sleepover at my friends house.” Billy snarls. He pushes against Steve’s chest until there are rivers between them. Mountains and oceans.

It’s the first time since Starcourt that Billy seems.

Like himself.

The old self, the one that used his fists to keep wandering eyes from getting too close. Figuring him out. If Steve were a younger man he’d fall for it, hook and line, but. 

He knows better.

Six months and a lifetime with Billy Hargrove have taught him a thing or two. He nods, stepping back down the hallway. 

Billy’s eyes track him. Wide and nervous and so, so blue. 

“‘M going to sleep, dude.”  Steve waves a thumb over his shoulder, taking a deep, needed breath. He calls over his shoulder to give Billy some space. “Come to bed when you’re ready. I’ll leave the light on.”

Billy’s footsteps don’t pass his bedroom door until Steve is settled under the covers.

--

He’s starting to think Billy won’t show.

The t.v. is on in the living room, tinny sounds of Yogi Bear filtering through the wall and Steve wonders if he made a mistake in assuming, that.

Look.

Just because they slept together, like, actually slept together  while Billy was in the hospital doesn’t mean anything. 

Maybe Billy is just scraping the bottom of his energy reserves. Maybe he’s getting to the end of the rope when it comes to his friendship with Steve, and didn’t want to move in but had to.

For lack of better options, and like. 

Income and shit--

“Scoot over.” Billy says.

Steve jumps, poking his head out from under the covers to glare wildly at him. “When did you--”

“Move over.” Billy insists, eyes burning like flame in the darkness.

Steve does, all, “Jesus Christ, you’re just a little ray of sunshine, aren’t ya?” But there are butterflies in his tummy. Gently flapping wings that turn into stinging wasps when Billy manhandles his way into the bed, yanking one of the extra pillows out from under Steve’s legs to punch into shape on his side of the bed.

Steve squawks. “I was using that.”

“It was under your knee caps, dork.” Billy mutters, bullying his way into Steve’s space like he did so many times on warm summer nights at Hawkins General, stiff as a board on his government issued mattress.

Steve’s bed isn’t anything like that, it’s like. A marshmallow. Swallowing the two of them whole when Billy presses his face into the length of Steve’s neck, legs coming up to pin him in place.

“I got weak ankles.” Steve pouts. 

Billy doesn’t say anything as he goes limp and heavy on top of his human pillow. Steve instantly feels like he’s over heating; the guy’s a fucking furnace, but.

Billy’s eyelashes are tickling his collar bones.

His breath fans out over Steve’s skin, like cool breezes on summer nights, and. When he starts crying Steve is there.

Like always, Steve sings him to sleep.

[trashcatsnark]

Your recent posts about Cyberpunk are everything to me! It is such a pleasure when I see you answered a new question. I actually keep checking the tag to see if there is something new from you.

So if that is okay with you I would like a ask you one because I would love to have your opinion on the matter. How do you think Johnny pre ending would react to realizing V is developing feelings for him, despite their doomed future (even though everything turns out to be great with V living and Johnny having a body because that is the only canon ending that matters)?

AHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU’RE MAKING ME BLUSH, AHHH IM GLAD YOU’RE ENJOYING THE POSTS (I was a little worried I’ve been flooding tags and annoying people, so that’s really reassuring) 

Spoilers as always!

Okay, so I thought about this for a long while and was mostly torn between two camps of thought, because I also think Johnny would be torn between his thoughts. Johnny himself can be very reckless and has thoughts, beliefs, that contradict with his own behavior. He can go from beating V up, to chatting to them in a diner, to trying to use them, to promising to die for them all within the span of a few weeks. He loved Alt but screamed that she was only a fuck to him. He loved Rogue, but cheated on her. Kerry was his best friend, but he was never above mistreating and manipulating him. He claims he wants to change the world to protect the people in it, but often shows no empathy or kindness for those very people. He preaches the value of change but allowed himself to stagnate. He promises to die for V, wants to save them, but when he has control he does stuff that could very well kill them (excessive drugs, alcohol, and the car crash he caused). Combine that with his newly developing desire to change and be a better person; he can be hard to really understand, even to himself. 

So, what are these camps of thought for if he realized while still an engram that V unequivocally and unquestionably love him in a romantic way, despite the way he “knows” this will end. 

Well, in another time and place, another Johnny. He’d probably use this as an excuse to get V in bed, then discredit their feelings because he can’t handle it then destroy the entire relationship. Because there has always and may always be a part of him that when people get too close, he wants to push them away. Don’t get through the walls, he only wants people to see a certain side and part of him, he can’t let them get too close. So, anytime he realizes someones starting to chip through those walls, he starts throwing the bricks at them. Hell, after clouds, if V states “yeah I get it, that’s how they killed you, I saw your memories” Johnny gets visibly uncomfortable and says “okay.... we’ll get back to that later” The idea that V, a stranger still practically at this time, knows his memories...knows him in this weirdly deep way, makes him so fucking uncomfortable. 

Sidenote, kinda: this is something him and V (albeit V is typically less aggressive about it) have in common. Think of how few people know V’s real name or have been granted the right to call them by it. Think of how despite Jackie being their best friend, they still knew so little about him, he still wasn’t allowed to call them by their real name. They’re clearly upset when the doll says their name. Johnny and V are both people who have put wall after wall between themselves and everyone else. And now in a twist of fate, Johnny’s been shot like a cannonball through his own walls and V’s, so there’s now not a single wall between these two strangers and they both hate it until they dont. 

Back to the point, there’s a part of Johnny that instinctively wants to seek a way to destroy it, to ruin all that he’s built with V because he’s terrified of crossing that final line, that one last barrier, of truly being who he wants to be and being with V in that way. He’s terrified of what it means, and he’s terrified that he won’t be enough, that he’s too fucked up and broken to deserve it, that there’s still something inside of him that V hasn’t seen and when they do they’ll leave him in the dust. And that aggro, selfish, scared bastard part of him screams at him to never let it get that far; tear it all down so it never happens. 

But he is changing and doesn’t want to hurt V. So, he refuses to use them though that little voice tells him to take the most he’s comfortable taking (ie sex) then throw the rest away. He shuts that voice out, refuses to let himself do that to V, he’s done with that. Though a part of him feels guilty to even have that thought, how can he be such a bastard, maybe he’s not changing as much as V gives him credit for... 

So, he may pull away (as much as he can) for a bit. Talk to V less, stay in their head more. Not because he necessarily wants to hurt or distance himself, but he needs time to think. He knows he feels the same way, but he’s scared of so many things. Hurting V, them realizing he’s too shitty of a guy to date, what happens after he’s gone? How will they feel, won’t that make it hurt worse? 

But, if he loves them, and they love him. And this is all the time they have left, maybe they should just enjoy it. 

So, maybe, he thinks, he should ignore it. Pretend he didn’t hear and move on as if nothing has changed. But, maybe, he also thinks he can’t, that he shouldn’t that denying them both something they clearly want will hurt more than losing it in the end. 

Johnny has always been big on enjoying the good things while you can, those little moments where even he could find peace and happiness. It was after all something he got upset at Alt for “always gotta ruin it, always gotta shit on the moment dont you?”, even with his date with Rogue, he just wanted a nice night at the movies, a night to pretend all was the way it was before and to ignore reality for a night; but too much had changed. 

And a part of him worries that it’s selfish too, he still isn’t quite certain of when he’s being a selfish bastard and when he isn’t. Maybe it’s wrong to want to take that time to just say fuck it; even if he’s gone in the next week, let it be the best week he could ever hope for. Squeeze as much love and time together into whatever they have left. 

Ultimately, he realizes that’s what he wants, he wants to just say fuck it and let himself fucking enjoy whatever they can, whether its’ days, weeks, or hell maybe he can even get a full month before he gets wiped. But, what the fuck does V want? He knows what they feel, but not what they wanna do about it, and maybe that’s the more selfish thing...doing all this thinking and figuring without even asking V what they want. 

So, he decides to stop spinning his fucking mental wheels and ask them. Tell them, he knows how they feel and if they want he’ll forget he ever found out, this conversation can end here. They can pretend those feelings don’t exist, Move on and continue as they always have; because at the end of this he will be wiped to save them. He will die for them, because he knows the chances of saving them both are slim and none, and slim died a while back. He made his promise and he meant it. He will do them no harm and he will die so they can live the ife they deserve. That is how this ends and it’s the only ending he’ll accept (so he thinks). So, knowing that and knowing what a rat bastard he was, maybe still is, knowing he can’t give much, hell he’s not sure he can give anything; do they still want more, they still want him in that way, do they truly still want to love and be loved by him knowing they’ll have to let him go and that that time ain’t too far off? Cause he knows what he wants. 

[petewentzisblack1312]

if i ever get money im sending u flight and ticket money i s2g we gotta get u to a fob show

i appreciate that v much lmao. cw for mental health stuff i guess?

the funny thing is i actually got really close, ive mentioned this before but when the mania tour was announced a friend of mine tried to wire money for a concert ticket but it didnt go through for some reason but THEN my mom decided to buy me the ticket anyway even though she couldnt really afford it because my dad promised to send me up to new york to see it, but he kept like, changing the terms and conditions?

like first he said hed go with me then he said he was too busy so i said id go alone then he suddenly decided he didnt want me going alone so i asked if hed send my sister with me and it was weird but i didnt really realise it bc i was so excited, but then a couple weeks out from when we were supposed to go, he just told me he changed his mind and he didnt think i could handle it and that he wouldnt be paying for my flight, but id gotten vip so i couldnt resell the ticket, so i just had to sit and watch all the pictures from what wouldve been my date from saint lucia. and then i got hit by a van.

i feel really stupid for how upset i am about it because like, its a luxury. i live on a caribbean island, sometimes we dont have running water or power, sometimes my family doesnt really have food to eat, sometimes theres a hurricane or an earthquake or both that takes us years, maybe a decade to recover from, and here i am being hung up on not getting to go see a band in america. like even having that opportunity was extremely privileged and i really feel conceited and entitled to be upset about it. its expensive to leave the caribbean and i know that and like, my dads really well off, he has a lexus and remodelled his house while he was supposed to be paying for me to eat, but like its not like its required for me to live or anything. i dont have the luxury of wanting luxuries but im still genuinely deeply upset about this. a different friend offered to buy me a ticket for the hella mega tour but they were sold out bc the connection at my schools really shitty and tickets never go on sale at like a convenient time.

the fact is they are never going to play in the caribbean, save for that one time they played in puerto rico, which is still america and still requires a visa and tickets are still more expensive for me. going to a show requires a round trip out of the caribbean and finding a place to stay and actually buying a ticket, all of which is priced in a currency with way more buying power than the eastern caribbean dollar has. maybe if i actually get out of saint lucia and go to school and start my life but every time i have a mental breakdown because i feel stuck i get even MORE stuck because no one thinks i can handle being on my own without supervision no matter how much i say i am losing my mind because other people are micromanaging my life.

sorry. this is a lot. i love my home but this is a small town you need an expensive plane ticket to leave and im just watching it die and be exploited and i just kinda have to live with the fact that when or frankly if i ever leave ill never be able to afford coming back home and all of that is just kind of represented by the fact that i dont think ill ever be able to afford seeing fall out boy live even if i did live in a place where there are shows and even if i could itd be between seeing them live or seeing my family and home in person.