#i cannot be angsty about love but i will be angsty about my stupid fucking brain

[grey342]

Hii! I’m so glad to see someone currently writing bradley cooper fics because honestly PHIL CAN GET IT. i wanted to request maybe a jealous!phil where reader goes on a friends bachelors trip and knowing Phil’s past he gets all angsty, as smutty as you’d like :) honestly anything you’d write id love!!

Don't leave me

Jealous! Phil x reader

synopsis - Phil's girlfriend goes on a trip for a bachelorette party and he's not happy about it.

warnings - MDNI 18+ content, Phil being dramatic, Phil being jealous (Obv), lingerie, slight handjob, P in V, riding and praise.

authors note - Thank you so much for this request and the sweet compliment! I gotta be honest i'm not a huge fan of angst so I made Phil a lil more dramatic and kinda sassy. I still hope you like it :)

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

This man is gonna be the death of me.

The main thought running through your head whilst packing. His remarks and whines can be heard from the next room.

Your close friend was having her bachelorette party this weekend but, she also wanted to spend a couple of days with the bridal party before her wedding. So you all decided to spend a long weekend in Vegas. And Phil is not happy about it.

"I mean, I don't get why you have to go," you roll your eyes at him, "it's not like she's your best friend."

"Oh yeah? And who is?" You retaliate, smirking.

"Me." He scoffs, as if this is obvious information, walking into the room. You take one look at him and start laughing.

You're not stupid, you kind of guessed why he was so mad about you going but now. He's made it really clear for you.

"What's so fucking funny?" He says confused, placing his hands on his hips. A gesture you would usually find attractive but right now, it's making you laugh even harder.

"I just, uh, I can't believe it," you say in between wheezes, " I mean. I had an idea but now it's so obvious." You quietly chuckle.

"What? What is? You're not making any sense." He declares, clearly getting frustrated. After calming yourself down you finally say-

"You're jealous." Apparently, it's now his turn to burst out laughing.

"What? Where the fuck did you get that idea?" He managed in between laughs.

"You're jealous. You're so insistent on me not going, you're trying to tell me all the bad things about the girls. I mean you literally just said "she's not your best friend, I am." You're SO jealous." You clarify.

He's silent just staring at you. You can see the clogs turning in his head to try and come up with a good response. You swear you can see the light bulb appear on top of his head.

"You're just saying that to make yourself feel better about leaving me. For a whole weekend might I add." He says almost sassily and walks out of the room. Clearly proud of himself.

"Sweetie," you sigh, "it's only three days. I'll be back before you know it. We can text throughout the day and call every night." You try to deal.

"Or I have a better idea... don't go and we can talk all day and all night. Face to face."

You groan in frustration. You cannot believe this is the type of conversation you were having with your grown ass boyfriend. Pick the sassy men they said. You internally roll your eyes.

You walk into the living room to see him practically pouting on the couch. Scoffing, you go to walk away when an idea pops into your head.

"Hey Phil, if you stop complaining right now you can have your present early." He looks at you confused.

"What the fuck do you mean "present"?"

"Well since you are so predictable," you emphasise the last word, " I knew you would act like this when I said i'm going on a trip. So, I bought you something as a "sorry for leaving you, you big baby" gift."

"You did?" You can see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

"Yes my little princess but, clearly you are a lot more upset than I anticipated so i'm willing to give it to you early. If you want it that is." You wager. There's a long pause where he's weighing out his options.

"Okay," he clasps his hand together, " I have decided that I would like my present early. BUT I still want one for when you come back." He leans back on the couch, glowing with pride.

"Fine. I'll be right back." He rubs his hand together in anticipation as you leave the room.

Moments later you're shouting down the hall, "close your damn eyes." He grunts in disapproval.

"Okay and open." He does and your met with a groan that also sound like a moan.

"Oh baby." You're stood in front of him in a lingerie set, barely covering anything. Plus it's in his favourite colour.

"Am I forgiven?" You say, moving down to straddle his lap.

"Yes. A million times yes." He exclaims instantaneously as you giggle.

His mouth meets yours passionately, with your teeth and tongues clashing. His hands make their way down to your ass and yours to his chest. Pushing him lightly so his back meets the couch.

His slowly starts to kiss your jaw, then down your neck and finally the top of your chest. He looks up at you, almost pleading, and you give him a look of approval. His hands move around your back to unclasp your bra.

He slides it off at an agonisingly slow pace. When the bra is fully off he stares at your chest in awe. He moves his head down taking one nipple in the mouth and groping the other. You let out a content sigh.

He switches over, repeating the same process as you began to rock slowly, back and forth, on his lap. His moans vibrate on your chest as your breaths turn into pants.

You reach down in between you and start pulling at the waistband of his grey sweatpants, indicating you want them off. He knows what you want and immediately begins to pull them down. You look down and eagerly take him in your hand. You swipe your thumb over the tip and began pumping up and down.

"Fuck.." He groans. You push your panties over to the side and slide onto him. Both of you moaning in unison. You'll never get used to the way he feels, filling you up perfectly.

Once you're both ready, you begin to move back and forth, riding him. His hands take sanctuary on your hips, slowly guiding you. You lean down, placing your mouth on his, capturing his groans in your mouth.

"You're doing so good. Riding my dick so well baby, my good girl." He says against your mouth. He reaches down and starts to rub slow circles on your clit. You whimper at the contact.

"Oh fuck, do that again." Obeying his orders you do it again. He uses his other hand to begin assisting you in bouncing up and down. Your movements begin to change pace, going faster.

His groans and your whimpers becoming louder. He dick twitching inside of you, indicating he's close. You ride faster and bounce harder. He in turn, quickens his movements on your clit and his fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises for later.

"Oh shit, Phil.. I'm close."

"I know honey, I know hold on a lil longer." He pants. Your cries being the response. Your head thrown back, eyes screw shut.

"Hey, look at me. I wan't you to look at me when you cum." He demands. You immediately open your eyes and stare into his. His gaze possessive.

"Oh fuck, Phil." You whine.

"Let go baby, give it to me." That send you over the edge. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the pleasure taking over and your body began to shake.

"Oh shit, oh shit." He says as he fills you up, head resting in the crook of your neck.

Coming down from your highs, he lifts his head and smiles at you.

"What?"

"You're so beautiful." He places a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Mhm, i'm still going." You stand up and start walking towards the bedroom.

"Ah! Come on honey, i'm the love of your life! You can't leave me!" He calls out, following you.

[ugly-pickle]

Good morning, Pickle. My second request for the day. Please kindly consider this angsty Gorou request: Gorou can only watch as you exchange nuptial cups with Heizou. He know he has no right to stop the wedding, not when he was the one who broke up with you to woo Kokomi, only to find out later that she was only using him to get her parents off her back about her being single.

Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests.

regret ☆ gorou

CHARACTERS: gorou x reader

SYNOPSIS: gorou dumps you for kokomi (っ- ‸ - ς)

GENRE: angst 🦢

W/C: 0.8k

T/W: cussing, breaking up, cheating (if there’s any i missed let me know!)

A/N: bro i hate exams (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) my next one will also probably take eons to complete….

“WHAT THE FUCK GOROU.”

SMACK

you touch the now red mark on your face. it stings, but the ache in your heart is worse. “never talk about kokomi like that again,” gorou says with a stern tone. “tch, YOUR kokomi? i have never seen her look at you for more than 2 seconds outside of a meeting.” youre now pissed off due to gorou’s stupidity, but you cant help but feel a bit jealous, well, kokomi did just steal your lover’s heart with just a snap of her fingers.

gorou’s tail looks stiff, you notice that he does that when hes uncomfortable or angry, you take note of this. you might regret what youre going to say, but a river cannot stop flowing just because of a small inconvenience. you shall see where the future takes you. “if i upset you that much then i’ll leave. goodbye gorou,” you want to cry but your dignity tells you not to; you grab your wallet and head out the door.

before you completely close the door, you can hear a whimper, and it’s not yours.

it’s sunny outside, youre not sure if you should be grateful that theres no rain to make you feel worse, or if you should feel bad that the rest of inazuma is having a great time without you. although, no matter how clear the day was, you still manage to bump into someone.

“y/n? oh my archons, it is you! how have you been?” says the mysterious voice. “heizou?” tears are finally dripping down.

…

you slightly grip the cups in your hands, youre so excited that youre scared that the sake might spill. the moment slips by like a flash and youre already taking your last sip. you look up to see your husband, hes grinning ear to ear and so are you.

heizou looks so lovely when hes happy, but now you can see all of his emotions, whether if hes happy, sad, jealous, angry, disgusted, confused, you can see all of it and only you.

you look into the crowd, all of your friends and family are there, heizou’s side as well. theyre happy for you.

thats when you see gorou.

beside him was Sangonomiya Kokomi, Divine Priestess of Watatsumi Island, what a mouthful, not to mention how bitter the title tasted in your mouth. gorou’s tail was stiff, you wonder why; his eyes were also glistening, such pretty eyes shouldnt cry….

WAITWAITWAIT

nononono, youre literally having your wedding ceremony right now, what are you thinking?…

your wedding ceremony has ended, you and heizou are now officially married.

gorou’s perspective:

“gorou? are you okay?” kokomi asks, “u-uhm yea, im fine,” gorou stutters a bit. what if he was the one up there with you. what if he was up there exchanging nuptial cups with you.

“hey kokomi?” gorou asks, “yes gorou?” kokomi responds, “im gonna get some fresh air, i’ll be right back,” kokomi nods her head, gorou presses a kiss on her forehead then exits.

he feels guilty. he kissed kokomi while thinking about you, no, he thought about you every waking second and you even appeared in his dreams. a few tears roll down his eyes. is he happy for you or jealous of heizou? all of these emotions swirling around him, and he cant tell which one hes feeling.

he feels a hand in his shoulder. he jumps, hes a bit startled, it’s you…

you look so lovely, the fabric, the design, the jewels, and just the everything made you look heavenly. he picks up a scent that he always longed for, it was yours, he just never realized it.

“were you crying gorou?…” he feels more tears coming up, did he miss you that much?

“congratulations y/n, uhm… we ended on a bad note, look i just wanna say that ‘m sorry.” a small smile appears on your face, “apology accepted, that was the past, lets focus on the present,” you gently squeeze gorou’s hand. “lets catch up some other time, yea?” you said, “y-yea,” and with that you disappeared. he feels empty.

“there you are!” kokomi’s voice rings through his ears. “m-my love!” gorou says, becoming stiff again, “look gorou, we need to talk,” her words feel stiff, uncomfortable even. “of course! anything! what do you need to talk about?” gorou asks.

“…lets split up gorou.”

….

“eh?” hes dumbfounded. “lets break up,” nonono this cant be happening, “why?… i thought you were happy, were you not?” gorou’s life was already falling apart, this was just the breaking point. “look, gorou, i have strict parents that expect me to produce… offspring, i would like to label this event ‘traumatic’ so they’ll stop bothering me for the time being. my condolences.”

why bother anymore?

NOTE FOR SAILORSTAR9: i literally had no idea what nuptial cups were before this （´∇｀''）

TAGLIST: @sailorstar9

[thoughtsofatransboy]

omg how about an angsty story where you and leon get into a heated argument and both say some really hurtful things and leon accidentally hits the reader but he apologizes (some fluff) and then makeup sex

this literally cannot leave my mind and i love ur fics literally

Oh it looks like a cool plot! And thank you very much anon! Mwah mwah <3 here's your request:

Warnings: Gn!reader, Re2!Leon (cuz i think younger Leon would be a little immature), argument, nsfw stuff, fluff apologizing, reader has trauma with face slaps, makeup sex

You and Leon started to date some months ago, he's your soulmate, the only one that can make you feel like you're just a teenager in love again, but it doesn't mean he can't be an asshole sometimes. He's been bitching around all day, complaining and very stressed because of his job. You tried to be as comprehensive as you could, you knew about his cop stuff and his trauma, so you tried to not give attention to his bad mood, but it crossed your limits. "You're the worst partner ever, you never help me with absolutely nothing" this phrase made your blood boil, how dare him say something like that? After all your loving and patience with him?

"Leon you're the bitchy here... why don't you shut the fuck up just a little, huh?" Leon's gaze got a little harder than it was before, he was looking like a stupid toddler earlier, but now he looks real irritated.

"Who do you think you are!? You're lucky i didn't kicked your ass out of my life yet!" The way he said it, could have literally shattered your heart in thousands of pieces, but the rage made you blind for the pain of his sharp words.

"You could NEVER live without me! Aww... look at this boy... He's afraid of working with another people... aww! Why? BECAUSE HE THINKS THEY GONNA D-" Before you could finish your sentence, Leon hit your face with a hard slap, making you drop your knees, not necessarily because of it's strength, but because of your shock.

"D-don't! Please! Please!" Tears roll down by your face without you even noticing, that's when Leon understood what he did. You triggered his trauma and he triggered yours. Sure, what you did was stupid, but he was the one who started it, and he shouldn't have replied your violence with violence.

"Darling..! Oh my God! I-I'm SO sorry..." He tried to get closer to you but you blocked his touches. "Don't fucking touch me!" You said, almost having a breakdown and crying out years of pain, right there on the floor.

Kennedy understood he crossed the line, he really did. So he decided to leave you alone, afraid he would make you more upset by staying. After some minutes, about ten minutes, he came back to the room you were. It agonized him, to see you, his strong darling, so vulnerable. He slowly got closer and closer to you, waiting for you to nod for permission before he touched you. As quick as you nodded, he wrapped you in his arms, rubbing your cheek with his hand. "I'm sorry darling, so sorry... I shouldn't have be so childish, can you forgive me baby?" You nodded.

"Can you forgive me too?" He kissed the cheek he slapped. "Of course darling" he helped you to stand up. "What about we watch a cartoon together and cuddle a little?" You accepted, you both deserved a good time together after this event.

Now you guys had finally forgiven each other, the argument faded away on your minds... it had already some hours and you're both laid down on your little couch, sweetly cuddling and watching you guys's favorite cartoon.

But something didn't felt right, Leon was moving so much, like he was uncomfortable. "Sweetie? Are you okay?" Leon seemed a little nervous about your question. "S-sure sweetie! Now keep watching the cartoon, yes?" Then you finally noticed what it was. Leon was hard, you moved your leg a little, so you could feel his bulge, earning a little groan from him. "Darling!..." You wasted no time in touching it.

"Kennedy, Kennedy... always aching for me, ain't ya?" No answer. "Ain't ya?" You rubbed it this time. "Oh! Hell yeah darling!" You smiled wide. "Good boy"

Leon took the opportunity that you're with your back against his chest, to go over you, pinning you under him. "Naughty one, huh? Really enjoys to tease" Leon begun his attachment to your neck, kissing and sucking all of it.

"Mmmm... Leon! Don't stop!" Leon smiled against your neck, continuing his work, now moving his hand inside your pants to start to tease your genitalia. "Sweet babe... all aroused f'me? Jus' for me?"

You moaned helpless "Yeah! All for you!" You didn't minded saying anything else. "Are you goin' to let me take care of you?" You only nodded, making Leon smile. "Thanks babe..." In a quick move, Leon unbuttoned his pants, helping ypu to unbutton yours too.

He stroked his cock and lined it up with your hole, kissing you while inserting his cock slowly and delicate. He wouldn't handle hurting you again. His thrusts were slow and rhythmic, your moans echoing in the room. "Oh babe... will you forgive me for being so pathetic with you?" You nodded, making him smile. "Thanks sweetheart" he implanted kisses all over your face and your bruised cheek. He was kissing your mouth passionately, interrupting it to let out a long and sensual moan. "Darling, I think i'm close!" He kept his thrusts a little longer, not much before cumming inside you, with you cumming some seconds later, your hole clenching deliciously around him, before creaming his cock.

Leon was catching his breath back. "Oh baby... you did so good for me." He stroked your hair, wrapping you around him once again. "I'm sorry for everything that happened earlier... II'm never doing this again. Can you give me another chance?" You kissed his cheek hardly "Sure Leon, I love you too much to don't forgive you... sorry for being such an asshole with you too." You both smiled to each other, letting the moment speak for itself and falling in each other's arms.

"I love you too much baby." Leon said, hugging you as you were the most precious jewel on Earth. "Love you too Lee..." You kissed his face one last time, before letting yourself slowly melt into a delicious sleep.

[dewedup]

Hi dear friend 💙

How about..."if you could only see yourself the way I do, you wouldn't feel this way" with my sweet sweet Rulti boys.

Besos!😘

sorry this ended up taking me a little mac, i love how your brain works and i hope i did it justice 🖤

please enjoy 1k of sad, angsty rain and swiss breaking through the pain 🥰

Rain’s hands travel the skin of his neck exploratorily, fingers brushing over the slightly protruding gills on either side of his neck. They are a light-blue colour and stand out compared to the greyish-blue tone of his skin like a sore thumb. He knows that logically, Dew used to have the very same identifying features of a water ghoul. That you can still see the shiny, silvery scars if you look hard enough. 

Sometimes he even catches Dew being slightly oversensitive to the area still, releasing a soft gasp when they’re touched the right way, flinching when he’s grabbed a little too roughly around the neck. Rain sympathizes, and knows the feeling well himself. It’s an interesting flaw in the design of water ghouls, having such a vulnerable area highlighted like a bullseye for all predators to see. To be totally at someone’s mercy if they touch them just right.

That’s not the part that really bothers Rain though, just something he thinks of once in a while. If he one day had an audience with Lucifer, he’d probably bring it up. Workshop some ideas with the Unholy One. 

No, what bothers Rain is that he’s the only ghoul with these outward markings. Air ghouls get to walk a little lighter. Their hair floats perfectly around them, like they’re perpetually on a cloud. Quintessences have captivating purple irises that seem to glow in the dark. Dew’s eyes hold a similar power, coupled with the fact that he always runs hotter than any other being Rain has had the pleasure of getting close to. Even Mountain grows cute little flowers on his body, for fucksakes. Don’t even get him started on multi ghouls. They’re heartbreakingly gorgeous, taking every positive aspect of their mixed elements and crafting perfection. He’s almost positive that if he looked at Swiss too long, he’d go blind. 

And here’s Rain, with these stupid fucking gills. 

The ones that decorate his ribcage are fine, easily hidden and if that’s the only place he had them he wouldn’t complain too badly. But the neck? Impossible to casually hide. It’s the only thing he sees in the mirror when he’s brave enough to look, the bright tone catching his eyes immediately. He feels like a lesser ghoul, unevolved, unrefined in a way. 

When he’s feeling particularly hideous, he’ll exert enough effort to glamour the area. Coincidentally, it’s more work to disguise just one part of his body instead of a full glamour. But he’s stubborn, will spend the whole day on edge and fall into bed exhausted after trying to conceal the ugliest part of him from view. 

He’s still standing in front of his vanity, hands to his neck, when the door to his room is thrown open.

“Rain! Dew and Phantom challenged us to a…” Swiss’ voice trails off as he watches Rain grip his neck self-consciously. It’s too much, the beautiful golden eyes of the multi ghoul staring right at his most vulnerable area, his gaze calculating as he takes in the scene before him. Rain’s hackles rise. The surprise mixing with the self-hatred he’s been soaking in creates an explosive reaction inside him.

“Did no one fucking teach you how to knock?” Rain spits, venom lacing his tone as he drops his hands, quickly pushing a glamour out to cover his gills. Swiss flinches visibly at the words, his eyes narrowing as his gaze still lingers on Rain’s neck. Silence eats at him, unshed tears pushing their way to his eyes. No, he cannot cry right now. He’s just angry, he just needs Swiss to leave. 

“Rain,” Swiss ventures, taking slow steps towards him. He lifts his hands, palms raised towards the water ghoul like he would a wounded animal. Rain stumbles backwards, bracing his hands on the vanity behind him. 

“Get the fuck out Swiss,” Rain’s voice cracks on the multi ghoul’s name, the anger evaporating as quickly as it comes. A single tear trails its way down his cheek. Swiss is unfazed by the quickly shifting moods, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them. Rain stiffens as he’s pulled close by a hand wrapping around his waist, leaving the comfort of the sturdy vanity behind him. Swiss reaches up with his other hand, his thumb brushing against Rain’s cheek to catch the stray tear. 

Rain’s entire body slumps, the last few lingering impulses to fight dissipating. 

“Show me, love.” Swiss whispers and Rain feels completely exposed under the golden gaze burning into him. He knows exactly what Swiss wants, debates playing dumb, but Swiss’ face is earnest, affection carved into every faint line or wrinkle. With a heavy sigh, he drops the glamour, his eyes sliding shut as he tries to hide from his own wicked thoughts. 

He doesn’t see Swiss move closer, only letting out a soft gasp as his lips press light kisses along the gills on the right side of his neck. Never pushing too hard. If Rain wasn’t hyperaware of every single thing happening currently, he might even miss the soft caresses on his sensitive skin. Swiss switches to the other side, supplying the same gentle affection to the neglected gills. 

“You’re absolutely gorgeous Rainbow,” Swiss pulls back, waiting for Rain to open his eyes before he speaks next. It’s a battle, the water ghoul fighting back tears as he cracks his eyes to peek at Swiss. The love and adoration displayed blatantly on his face punches a soft sob out of Rain’s mouth. 

Swiss coos and shushes him, pulling Rain tight to his chest, guiding his head to nuzzle in the crook of his neck. His warm hands rub comforting circles into Rain’s back as he shudders, tears falling to stain Swiss’ white t-shirt. It’s a few minutes before Rain’s breath evens out, eyes sore from crying, body exhausted, using every bit of strength Swiss offers to hold him up. 

“If you could only see yourself the way I do,” Swiss whispers, pressing soft kisses to the side of Rain’s head as he squeezes the water ghoul a little tighter. “You wouldn’t feel this way.” 

And Rain thinks, for Swiss, maybe he could try. 

[02chois]

05. POINT OF VIEW

pairing: kang taehyun x reader

word count: 883 + texts

summary: friends— that's all what you guys are, yet why does he brush your hair so fondly? why does he holds your hand as you walk home? And you don't even like each other that much. wait, fuck, maybe you do? does he though? you have to find out someway or another.

content: uses "girl" to address you

note: got a lil angsty here cus yn's longing for tyun :(

PREVIOUS / MASTERLIST / NEXT

From his point of view you're nothing more than a best friend. He loves you, platonically.

It started all the way back from middle school and you were but a little girl minding her own, quietly fixing your colored pencils in the box where they all belong. Then, all of a sudden, he walked up to you and stood in front of your desk.

He asked if he could borrow your colored pencils and you let him, however, days passed and you haven't gotten your colored pencils back. And days became weeks, months, until finally half a year had passed— Taehyun came up to you by your locker holding a pink box that was surprisingly still intact.

"I might've forgotten to give this back to you," he gave you a small smile, "but I promise they're all in good condition. I took good care of them."

Your lips formed into a pout, closing your locker after use. "I'm surprised you still remembered," you took the box of colored pencils from his hand.

"Eh, it's nothing. But as an apology, I'll buy you lunch? And I promise I only used your colored pencils once. I just forgot about it." He reassured you. And just like that you believed his words.

"Free food, how could I say no to that?"

Those colored pencils became the reason you bonded, the bridge to your ongoing friendship, and possibly will continue until later in your lives. But how come you've been so unsatisfied? You watched him get into several relationships, and as he dated you started to doubt yourself. Are you not enough for him? Why does he not see you the way he sees those girls? What's wrong with you? How can you change the way he sees you?

It's stupid. You're stupid. He changed your point of view and all of sudden your name becomes beautiful when spoken by him. And as you think of the possibilities of alternate realities, you cannot help but wonder, if maybe, just maybe, in a different universe, he would finally choose you. He makes you think of such things. But you couldn't help yourself. How can you not fall in love with him? He's everything you want.

Thud.

The excruciating sound of books falling from a desk snapped you out of your reverie.

And as if the universe was playing with you, he was right there in front of you. Every time you see him, you can't help but smile, and this time is no exception.

"You alright? I was looking everywhere for you and the library was my last resort." Taehyun kneeled down and picked up the books that fell from your table, then he carefully placed them back where they wouldn't get knocked down.

"Yeah, I was just thinking… and I'm a little sleepy."

He frowned, taking a glance at his watch. "The library closes in ten minutes. It's almost nine in the evening. How long have you been studying?"

Damn. Has it been that long? Time felt like it wasn't moving when you were reading and rewriting notes, but then again your mind wandered and eventually you fell asleep. You lift your head to look at him, confusion written across your face.

"I'm not sure. I didn't really look at the time, and got too busy with reading." You stood and gathered your things, placing them back all inside your bag.

Taehyun watched you, the shuffling of your clothes and paper filled the area. And he was right, the library was already empty. The librarian was the only person left aside from you and it looks like she was only waiting for you to leave before closing.

Taehyun took your bag from you and slung it over his shoulder, and before you could complain he shook his head. "You look awfully tired. This is the least I could do for you, so don't complain." He smiled.

These little things he does for you is one of the many things why you like him. Although, some people will tell you that it's the bare minimum. And honestly? You don't really care what they say because it's from him— Kang Taehyun. You wouldn't get affected if he were just some other dude trying to hit on you.

And watching him drive you home at this hour only made it difficult for you to control your feelings. He looked so… boyfriend— for the lack of a better term.

And as the car came to a stop by the red light, the dim glow of the street lamp delicately framed his face— you couldn't help but stare. His fair skin was visible only slightly from the opened collar of his buttoned shirt, his cardigan was uneven though you find it cute. Delicate strands of silver toppled over his forehead, his dark brows knitted together in deep concentration.

And it got you thinking, but you wouldn't risk it. You're not going to ruin the friendship you have for the past few years because of your silly little feelings for him, you'd rather have him stay with you like this than watch him distance himself away from you.

From your point of view he's everything you want. You love him so, so much. Your little crush on him from middle school wasn't just puppy love.

taglist: bold (can't tag)

@boba-beom @beeomgui @luvsoobs @bunnystrm @yenqa @hueninv @moontyuns @jjunsolos @sullystraw @tyunsion @txtbrainrot @goldennika @automatictalebeliever @vexstrils @soobinlover718 @strawbrinkofdeath @hyusun @wezbin @enhapocketz @dainsleif-when-playable @igotkpoops @luvdokja @vianna99 @emohazuzworld @taehyunsfel @hueneve @azurez

[jackyjango]

What are some of your angsty Charles Xaiver headcanons? I love your writing so much!

Hello, Anon! You like my writing you say!!? EEKS! Thank you so so much. 

And as for my angsty Charles Xavier headcanons, oh boy, where do I start? I’m not sure if these are headcanons, or just canons, or something else entirely, but here goes some of them, nonetheless (And this doesn’t stick to much of canon… It doesn’t stick to much of anything really) So, bear with me, for I got carried away.

The doctors and nurses at the hospital are annoyingly kind. Charles hates it. Because behind all their smiles and assurances, and ‘You’re healing exceptionally well from the surgery Mr.Xavier’s, is sheer pity. Days pass in a hospital bed, and so do more faces behind tags. ‘There’s still hope, Dr.Xavier,’ some one says, ‘The feeling in your legs can return over time. Things will get better, you’ll see.’ Hope? Charles laughs bitterly. And how can things get better? Erik isn’t there.

Out of everything, it’s probably the loneliness that drives him insane, the absence of Erik’s bright mind beside his. So Charles drinks. He drinks to make the rest of his body as numb as his legs. Especially his aching heart.

Anger and violence doesn’t come easily to Charles, but he’s angry now. Angry at Erik. He could have, and for the most part has, forgiven Erik for everything - for his legs, for hurting the children. But he cannot forgive Erik for leaving him alone.

The school is thriving. The Children and Raven are there, yes. But it’s not the same. It never has been.

A man named Logan breezes into the school one summer morning biting on the end of a cigar. They call him the ‘Wolverine’. He’s burly as a beast and has the claws like one. And when he asks Charles, ‘Wanna fuck bub?’ from the end of a kitchen table, Charles agrees readily. Whether to prove something to himself, or something else to Erik, or just to feel like his younger self once again, Charles doesn’t know.

Logan doesn’t tease Charles with his clever words, doesn’t gather Charles against his chest like he’s something precious, doesn’t kiss Charles like a man possessed. He doesn’t make love to Charles like Erik. He just fucks like a beast, and Charles is extremely thankful for it. 

Logan leaves as quickly as he’d arrived, promising to bring a few mutants who could benefit from the school. 

There’s only so much Charles can hide in his study drowning himself in expensive scotch. His children need him. Slowly, he eases back into his role of a Professor, and with it, some of the anger and bitterness abates. 

Logan returns a few months later with a girl with healing abilities. With the help of her powers, Charles gets back most of the feelings in his legs. He still has to use his wheelchair for the most part, and his entire body hurts, but Raven cries in delight and says, ‘This is great, isn’t it?’ Is it? Charles can’t say. Even with the feeling in legs, Charles feels just as numb as before.

When Logan asks Charles a few nights later if he’d like a repeat of last time, Charles smiles woefully and says, ‘Good night, Logan.’

Probably the only good thing to come out of this entire ordeal is Charles’ new found understanding of his mother. She drank herself to a stupor in denial of his father’s demise, ignoring Charles in the process. How was Charles any better than her?

Charles wakes one night to the sight of Erik floating into his room through the window. For a few seconds, he thinks it’s a dream. But when Erik starts accusing him of naivety on an article Charles had published about Mutant Education a few days ago, it becomes all too real. He punches Erik in the face like he’d wanted to all those days ago. He stumbles from bed, and his legs ache, but he doesn’t care. They argue, spew insults at each other, and almost tear each other out for two hours straight before falling into bed.

‘Wait,’ Charles says, stopping Erik’s frantic hands. ‘I slept with Logan.’ He feels stupid now that he has said it. He and Erik haven’t defined their relationship in any way. Still, keeping it from Erik feels wrong. ‘And I slept with Emma.’ Erik says. And that’s that, Charles supposes. Erik leaves the next day before the sun or Charles is up.

He doesn’t hear from Erik for 4 months after that. Erik comes in one night sans accusations and assertions, and sans that damned helmet, and whispers fiercely into Charles’ mind, I’m sorry, for … everything. It’s all too easy to fall into bed with Erik then. After all, It’s one of the only things they agree upon whole heartedly.

In the winter, they hire a new teacher for the school. Abigaile has a PhD in Mathematics and Physics, and comes highly recommended. She has lovely eyes and a bright smile, and bats her eyelashes coyly at Charles. The intent in her mind is unmistakable. Charles smiles at her kindly, and calls in for Hank. ‘Please show Ms. Brand to the classes. ’There really can’t be anything between them. How can there be? She doesn’t have large and callused hands like Erik’s. She doesn’t have a sculpted jaw or broad shoulders like Erik. She doesn’t possess a baritone voice that wreaks havocs on Charles’ body. Hell, Charles wouldn’t even fit perfectly against her like he does with Erik. Charles curses under his breath and closes his eyes. ‘You’ve ruined me for women, you Bastard.’

Charles gets a call on the phone in his study at 2 in the morning. The person on the other end is silent, but he knows without a shred of doubt in his mind that it’s Erik. Charles takes in an unsteady breath and says, ‘Please tell me you’re okay, Erik. Please…’ Erik grunts in response and the line goes dead.

To say that Charles misses Erik is an understatement. He misses arguing with Erik. He misses training the children with Erik. He misses their late night chess games, Erik’s teasing smiles and knowing looks. He misses the fire of passion smoldering in Erik’s eyes when he look at Chearles. Hell, he even misses Erik’s smoking. Sometimes, he misses Erik so much that it manifests into a physical pain somewhere between Charles’ heart and stomach. It doesn’t lessen over years, only dwindles into absence for a few hours he’s with Erik, and flares stronger than before once Erik leaves.

When Charles is feeling maudlin beyond reason, which he is for most of the week, he writes to Erik, knowing full well that it’s a moot cause. 

Dearest Erik, I feel like a Regency heroine writing to you….  ……. ……. Bobby froze the pond on the grounds today. Can you believe it? I’m so proud of him, Erik. The poor lad hes been struggling with his control…. ……. ……. I wish you could see it too. Yours Faithfully, Charles

My dear Erik, Ororo threw a fuss today. So much so that it started to rain over the mansion for a few minutes….. ……. ……. Wish you were here with me. Yours truly, Charles

Old Friend, The children threw a small party for my birthday today. Raven baked a caked. And no, it wasn’t as awful as the one she had baked for Alex’s birthday, but it was threateningly close….. ……. ……. Not a day goes by without me wishing you were beside me. Love Aways, Charles

My Love, There was an post in the paper today that a Mutant Experiment lab was destroyed in the East Coast. It reports that the damage was extensive and that the authorities are searching for the cultrip. You know that I don’t agree with your methods, Erik. But I admire your intent. So would all the mutants you saved from that lab. While I know fully well that you can take care of yourself, and your own, I can’t help but worry for your safety, my love. I worry about you constantly. There are more and more scars on your body each time I see you, and how I wish I could kiss it away. Are you eating on time? Do you sleep at all? Please take care, Erik. Yours Forever, Charles

The letters sit tucked chronologically in a box under Charles’ bed, and some of them are still wet at the corners.

Once night, Erik floats into his window with cuts on his face and blood on his uniform. Charles cleans his wounds with blurry eyes, and vows to tear the next person person who accuses Erik of being selfish.

Despite his promises of not looking into Erik’s head, Charles traces Erik’s activities through Cerebro, and refuses to feel one bit guilty about it. It's the only way he'll know Erik is safe. Sure, Erik’s damned helmet makes it all the more difficult, but through the years, Charles has gotten creative. He can pinpoint Erik in a crowd of people even across two states.

‘You should date someone,’ Erik says one night as he sits on the edge of Charles' bed dressed to leave. 

‘Really?’ Charles asks, ‘And why should I do that?’ ‘Because I want you to be happy,’ Erik says, and Charles wants to punch him. How dare he!? How dare Erik tell him to date someone else when he holds Charles’ beating heart in his fist. It’s cruel.  ‘And what makes you the authority on my happiness?’ Charles asks with no less cruelty. Erik doesn’t deign his question with an answer and leaves.

Gone, too, is the box under Charle’s bed that hold the map of his heart.

Erik goes missing for eight months this time, and Charles all but leaps out of bed when the phone in his study rings at 3 in the morning.

‘Erik, please don’t hang up,’ he pleads, and when Erik stays silent, ‘Please say something.’ ‘There’s nothing to say. I just wanted to hear your voice,’ says Erik. Charles knees give away and hot tears fall out of his eyes. But he can do this, he can keep talking. Anything to keep Erik with him. He wipes at his eyes and smiles into the receiver. ‘Do you remember Jubile? The tiny girl with two braids? You won’t believe what she can do, Erik…’ Charles talks into the night and doesn’t stop even when his voice turns horse. And even after that they simply listen to each other’s breaths.

Charles keeps a set of Erik’s clothes in his wardrobe. Over the years, the turtlenecks smell less and less like Erik, but when Charles drapes it over his pillow, and imagines that it’s Erik chest under his ear, he can still smell the sharp scent of Erik’s musk, spicy and clean and fresh.

He also keeps Erik’s favourite bottle of scotch and his preferred brand of cigarettes in a cabinet in his office, and guards it like a dragon guards its gold.

For all that Charles loathes smoking, and has banned it on the grounds, Erik seemed to be the exception to that rule. Hell, Erik has been the exception to all of Charles’ rules.

They hire Jonthan in the fall to teach Mutant History. He’s a tall man with blue eyes and auburn hair. He looks at Charles with a knowing smile and intent in his mind. He would be good for Charles, wouldn’t he? He’s smart, well read and kind. He even holds the same integrationist ideals that Charles does. But... Jonathan doesn’t have Erik’s razor sharp smile, the kind of smile that lights up Charles’ insides and heart. He doesn’t possess the wicked wit that comes so easily to Erik. He doesn’t bear the piercing focus, which when focussed on Charles makes him feel invincible. Jonathan doesn’t even smoke. Charles laughs in exasperation. ‘Good God, Erik! Must you torment me so?’

It’s almost a year later that Charles sees Erik. They fall into each other’s arms way too easily. 

‘Don’t tease me, Erik,’ Charles commands when Erik’s mouth meets the lobe of his ear, ‘I won’t last long.’ ‘Me, too,’ says Erik. ‘That means we’ll just have to go again.’ ‘And whose fault is that? You were gone for more than a year.’ At that, Erik stops, ‘Does that mean that you haven’t…’ he gestures between the two of them. Charles laughs woefully. ‘There hasn’t been anyone other than you ever since you came floating into my room all those years ago.’ ‘Oh,’ Erik says, surprised, ‘There hasn’t been anyone for me beside you, either.’ Charles laughs wetly for a long time. ‘I thought I was alone,’ he says softly. Erik kisses him, and whispers to his lips, ‘You’re not alone, Charles. Not when you I have something to say about it.’

And it sounds equal parts like a promise and a challenge. It sounds just like Erik.

Charles remembers reading somewhere, Like because, and love despite. However impossible, maybe the author had Charles and Erik in mind when they wrote it.

[spidervee]

coming soon! -> the good man's grace • tangerine x fem!reader

summary: tangerine doesn't make mistakes. until he does. and it all starts on the day he walks into the owl's hollow, a pretty little bookshop tucked away in an alley somewhere in london. his theft, a collection of poetry from one of his favourites, should be the end of it, but something (or someone) draws him back between the cluttered shelves. the shopkeeper, his sweet sparrow, who may not know his name, but knows much more than she's willing to let on.

a/n: i cannot stop thinking about this man and how he'd fall in love with the sweetest heart only to be (pleasantly?) surprised that she's more than meets the eye so this is my latest brain worm that just won't go away. dropping within the next couple of days! (before 2023)

warnings: 18+ only; canon-typical violence and gore; cursing (like, so fucking much of it); fem!reader who is also bi!reader; britishisms written by a canadian with zero clue; bookshop!reader has no racial or body type descriptors, other than being shorter than tangerine (and having smaller hands than his); kidnapping; non-con photos and a threat of a*sault (but no actual a*sault); protective!tangerine; protective!lemon; smut (fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight dacryphilia, fantasizing about oral sex); angsty!tangerine; semi-graphic descriptions of injury; bird motif; copious amounts of petnames; unnecessary references to bluey because the author loves that show

preview: The more often he visits, the worse it becomes. 

Tangerine contemplates burning your shop to the ground, only after checking that you’re not inside, of course. All he’d have to do is toss the fuckin' match and walk away. You’d collect a nice little insurance payout and he’d have no more excuses to see you. 

But therein lies the problem. Because as much as it makes no bloody sense, his fucked up brain wants to see you. He wants to see you every day in more places than this cozy little shop you've created and in less clothing than those bloody colourful dresses you're always wearing.

And you?

You think you might be developing a crush on moustache, as you've taken to calling him. Which is stupid because you don’t know anything about him aside from the fact that he’s got a mouth like a sailor and hands that look large enough to wrap around your throat and blue eyes that pierce your very being. And a moustache that reminds you of that seventies porno you'd watched years ago with your college girlfriend, just for shits and giggles. This bloke is the shit romance novels are made of—tall, dark, and handsome—and you’d gladly stock a hundred of them if he were on the cover, even though you like to think your shop is a little more refined than that. 

You watch him over the pages of your book as he weaves in and out of the shelves, a few volumes of poetry in his gloved hands, pointer finger tapping a frenetic beat on the hardback covers. He seems less at ease than usual—in fact, he's downright intense. How utterly Byronic of him.

Making up your mind, you set the book down and step out from behind the waist- high counter, floral skirt swishing about your hips.

“Is everything alright?” 

He blinks at you with those cerulean eyes that sit like sapphires upon his face, framed by fine lines of crow's feet. And then, before he can reply, you bite your lip and try a smile.

“Can I make you a cuppa?” 

[greazyfloz]

MISS GIRL YOU HAVE BECOME MY FAV ACCOUNT OMG!!!

Unfortunately I have fallen under Michael Bunting’s spell so can I request something angsty “you win, I’m done” with him ?! 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Hope you have a great day/evening <3

OMG I'M LITERALLY IN LOVEEEE WITH BUNTS!!!

Angst: 26. "You win, I'm done with this" w/ Michael Bunting

Two Years

Michael and I met when I first moved to Toronto a little over two years ago. It was almost like love at first sight because we Started dating around a month or two later. One thing about Michael, as he gets heated very easily on the ice, luckily, I have never experienced this. Michael firsthand.

Today was our two year anniversary and I already know that Michael forgot. I don’t know how he could’ve forgotten since last week. He told me that he was going to take me to the nicest places in Toronto for dinner after his game.

All day he said nothing to me about our anniversary, and I was going to hold off on saying it first. As he made his way to the door, I followed him, and he turned to press a kiss on my lips.

“Okay, bye babe. Love ya“ he says, as he gets to shut the door.

“bye Mikey, and oh yeah, happy anniversary to you too” I tell him that he stops from closing the door and re-opened it

“oh my God” he says, seeing I wasn’t amused, “fuck”

“it’s fine. See you after the game“ I say to him. He pulls out his phone to check the time.

“fuck, I’m already late” he says under his breath, “I’ll make it up to you I promise”

Even leave, shutting the door behind him, and I make my way up to our room. I open the closet and grab my leather pants and a white leafs jersey with his last name and number on the back.

After I’m ready to go to the kitchen and heat up something quick before receiving a text from Steph saying she was here. I take a couple of bites before realizing I wasn’t very hungry, then throwing it out and making my way out to her car.

“hellooooo” she says, excited to see me

“Hey” I say back trying to sound as excited

“wait, what’s wrong? you look sad”

She pulls out of our driveway and begins driving into the city.

“no reason to be sad, it’s Mike and I’s two year” I say, then look at the window as I hear Steph gasp

“he did not forget”

“he did”

“oh, my god no way. What an ass”

“oh, but he said he’ll make it up to me” I say, looking back at her as we drive through the busy streets of Toronto, “I really don’t wanna go to the game tonight”

“I don’t blame you” she says she turns into the parking garage.

We made our way into our seats with the rest of the wags. Steph was telling everybody that Michael forgot about her anniversary just out of the conversation we were having.

As the game went on, I noticed Michael was not having it. The team was losing and they were currently playing the Oilers who are typically a pretty tough team. I usually hold my breath whenever he plays the more rough teams because I know one day he’s gonna do something so stupid and possibly get himself hurt.

“I seriously cannot watch this“ I say to Gio’s wife and she giggles a little

“oh, I thought you’d be used to it by now“ she laughs

“how could I get used to that?“ I say, in a silly tone as a couple of the other wags laugh along.

Then his neck shift came. And I knew something bad was gonna happen when Kane was trying to get physical with Auston in front of the net. I watched my boyfriend skate around all the other players in front of him to jump on the player, taking them both to the ground.

“oh, boy“ I say, as I stand to try and get a better look across the ice.

I watch my boyfriend, get up from the ice after the refs pull him and Kane away from each other. I shake my head as I sit back down in my seat as he was put in the box.

When the next period came along, the game became more physical for all players. He really stood out as being the angriest player on the ice as I watch him, have a meltdown mouthing off of the other players.

The game ends, and some of the wags already go down. I said with Steph and Johnny’s wife and kids before we made our way down to ice level.

When we go down there, Michael and Mitch were already out chatting with some of the other players and their wives as he waited for me. When they noticed us, Mitch went right up to Steph giving her a hug and I walked over to Michael.

He wrapped his arms around me, but only quickly giving me a hug before pulling away. “oh, so now you can’t even act like I’m a good boyfriend?” he says quietly to me as he pulled away.

“what?” I ask and he ignores as he looks back up with the group.

“all right guys. We gotta head out now“ he says turning around and I follow him as we walk towards his car. He doesn’t say a word to me the whole way there. I’m thinking it must be because of the game and he’s taking it out on me which isn’t like him.

“Jesus y/n. I forgot our anniversary I know I’m sorry. but why the fuck are you going around telling everybody?” he says looking at me as soon as we shut our doors to his car, ” I told you I’d make up for it”

“I told Steph. And then she brought it up in a conversation we were having with the rest of the wives. So go fight with Steph about it” I say, rolling my eyes at him

“No! I wanna fight with you about it!” He yells at me

I laughed dryly before looking back at him, “just drive“ I say to Michael and he angrily throws the car into drive, stepping on the gas and speeding home.

We make it home, and I walk into the house, slamming the door behind me. I hear Michael re-open the door and enter.

“what the fuck?!” he yells out, and I turn around and open my mouth to say something back, but he beats me to it, “I forget a fucking anniversary, and you start acting like a psycho?! Seriously what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he yells at me and I feel the tears begin to form in my eyes. I lift my hand up to brush underneath.

“oh, for fucks sake’s you’re not actually gonna cry?!” he continues yelling

“yeah, I am” I yell back

“holy fuck, grow the fuck up and stop acting like a two-year-old! Are you still mad that I forgot about a stupid anniversary?! Huh?” he yells even louder than before making me shake a little before the tears really start streaming down my face, “stop fucking crying! I don’t know what game you’re fucking playing but I don’t wanna play“

“you win, I’m done with this” I say, quietly before, turning and locking myself in our bedroom. I walk over to the closet and grab a bag to put a few things in to last me until he goes on the road again. I hear him banging on the door, followed by a couple curse words.

As I get closer to the door I can make out what he saying better.

“what do you mean you’re fucking done with this?“ I hear him on the other side of the door. Fear takes over my body as I reach for the door handle and decide not to turn it. I take a couple steps back and just look at the door.

“open. The door.” I hear him say again as the door knob twists, “I just wanna fucking talk. We’re not over Because I forgot about our anniversary.“

With that, I open the door quickly, and he looks at me and he opens his mouth probably to yell at me, but I beat him to it this time, “no, we’re over because you’re acting fucking crazy”

“how the fuck am I acting crazy you’re the one breaking up with me because I forgot an anniversary“

“do you even realize anything you’re saying?” I say, finally brushing past him as I make my way to the door.

“Wait, you’re actually leaving?” he says, as he finally sees the bag under my arm

“yes Michael, goodbye”

[mondayaddamss]

Harsh Words

[pairings]: Cold-mannered Wednesday addams x bubbly fem! reader

[summary]:Wednesday says harsh things to reader after they kept annoying her.

[Warnings]:Wednesday and her sharp words, Traumatizing moments, Reader being fucking annoying, being pinned against a locker, basically everything. VERY ANGSTY!!

[A/N]: i am literally crying in my room, i can also guarantee there will be a part 2

You were OBSESSED with the Ravenette-haired Girl. GOSH ,You would always take the chance to disturb or annoy her with your bubbly attitude. It's not like you meant to annoy her but you just wanted to be her friend, And maybe more than that.

Since there was only a few minutes until classes started, You roamed the halls looking for something interesting, That was until you spotted Wednesday. The girl who made your heart flutter every 5 seconds, you loved everything about her. Her silky hair that shines, her soft burgundy lips, Always left you wondering if they would stain yours if you stole a kiss, her black nail polish glowing in the light, her furrowed eyebrows making her attractive, Even the way she dresses is graceful enough for you.

You Ran up to her with a Huge smile on your beautiful face, her face turned into a aggravated expression When she saw you." Hyah willa watcha'doin". You say excitedly with your happy vibes getting the best of you as usual. " Whatever i may be doing does not include you, and it wont any time soon" She replies very harshly as her pace quickens. "Well do you maybe wanna go to the weathervane after class- "No, i do not Y/N i am so sick and tired of your agonizing voice" You were cut of by Wednesday pinning you against a nearby locker and yelling out at you, Her eyes burned with extreme-pure hatred only for you, not for anybody else, just for you.

"W-Willa" Was all you could utter out before wednesday continued on with her detrimental, deleterious words "I dont understand why you act this way around me, always following me around like a eager-eyed puppy it irritates me, LISTEN to me, you are not my type, I do not like you in any kind of way that is possible on this planet, I've always hated you. You could never get anything right, You are even dumber than you look, Its pathetic that i have rejected you more than a million times and you somehow find your way back to me and annoy me. Its like you have a habit of it, you are the worst thing that i have met and seen in my life and im sick of it, sick of YOU! ,YOU CANNOT EVEN SHUT YOUR MOUTH FOR A SECOND, BETTER YET YOU CAN NEVER EVER GET A GRIP ON YOURSELF, I MEAN- WHY WOULD YOU?! YOU ARE TO STUPID TO EVEN DO SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS THAT" Wednesday had yelled all of these traumatizing, and hurtful words to you, Wednesday stares blankly at you with still a bit of hate for you in her eyes as your eyes fill up with tears, everybody stared at the both of you. so filled with embarrasment, you ran out of there as fast as you could never looking back because of the tears that were frequently streaming down your face as you ran to the huge willow tree nearby. You sat down and rested under it though many thoughts still lingered inside of your head, especially those words Wednesday had said to you- no in fact YELLED to you. how could she just say those hurtful things to you , and then just embarrass you when all you wanted to do was love her. This was by far the Worst day you ever had to Experience. THE WORST DAY.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"How It's Always Been." Ethan Landry History.

Ay, ayyyy! So uh. I am just so, so into Ethan Landry it is fucking stupid. So much that I am posting this thing, a history mock up for Ethan of what I think life is like, this is angsty, family drama heavy, character deep, dive-y and includes some murder too! Enjoy it! I am gonna do some smut of him soon but for now, remember this is just my thoughts and headcanons and opinions, so enjoy this!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. NOT READER INSERT. This is just about Ethan baby. Warnings: SCREAM  6 SPOILERS. Family Drama. Angst. Neglect. Abuse. Coercion. Complex Emotions. Mixed Morality. Murder. Blood. Gore. Ethan Is A Fucked Up Guy. And I Love Him For It.

—

Life for Ethan has never, ever been easy, or if it ever was, it was before he was truly cognizant and able to remember properly. Something always felt off but it took him a long time to be able to pin it down, and when he did it was like a glass shattering moment. The pane fractures and splits, breaking apart with knowledge that once received cannot be unlearned. Unfixable, even if you were to shift through the broken shards and painstakingly glue it back together your hands would be left torn and bleeding and the cracks would still show clear as day through the smudges of crimson fingerprints.

The biggest injustice in Ethan’s life was the worst one a person can suffer, the cruelty of total indifference. 

Have you ever experienced that? Being so totally and thoroughly ignored by everyone who is supposed to matter most? The people who share what is supposed to be a home with? Who birthed you into this world? Forced you the same way we all are into this shared experience we all call life, meant to play with the cards we are dealt. The middle of three and painfully ignored in all things in favour of his siblings. He can’t even be that mad at Quinn, to start anyway, it’s all about Richie, it’s always all about Richie.

He remembered the only good times and memories he had with his brother, when he wasn’t being a total fucking asshole, was when his needs and interests were being catered to and even then, not all the time. Filming his Stab tribute film was a complete mixed bag of some shockingly awesome moments mixed in with Richie having all the unwarranted, misplaced rage and self confidence found in a typical film bro who has watched one too many movies and swept one too many things Quinten Tarantino did under the rug. He was going on about how some aspects weren’t right, redoing takes over and over while waxing poetic about his fucking vision and berating his amateur friends and family who have never made a film or acted in any serious capacity before. 

Ethan used to love his brother, used to fucking look up to the guy but as he aged, rose tinted glasses gave way to show the truth of the kind of person Richie really was as well as the realization that he was the reason that their parents didn’t give a fuck about him. 

At first he tried not to blame him, Richie didn’t ask for all the attention but he sure as shit didn’t stop it either, and why would he when he is being so heavily catered to? His feelings about all of it were complex to say the least, going from real family caring about family, to disillusionment, to annoyance to anger, and eventually, outright hatred. He tried to get over it, tried to fix it and heal the hurt before it reached that level and the damage was permanent but Richie didn’t make it easy at all. From the lack of interest in Ethan’s life, hobbies, general well being, to the outright bullying he subjected him to at points. Richie is only a quarter of an inch taller than him but you’d think he was a full foot taller from how he acted so superior about the whole thing. 

Ethan felt bad for a moment when he found out about Richie dying, because a small, sick part of him was fucking happy. Experiencing joy thinking that now with Richie gone he was the only son, that meant something, now his dad would pay attention, now he would care-

Except that isn’t the case at all. Even in death it’s still all about Richie. 

At first it made sense, grief, mourning, sure, he was feeling it too to a degree, it was natural of course. 

But then Gale Weathers fucking book came out. 

Wayne is not the most reasonable man on the best of days, which a cop? Unstable? Unheard of. Then when the whole story came out and he read it, he was livid. Ethan swears some nights when he is lying awake he can still hear his father screaming, breaking things, tearing pages out of that damn book, yelling on and on about how it was- “Slander! That bitch can’t say these things about our boy! It isn’t true! He-he would never-”

Ethan isn’t exactly surprised. Richie was always really, really into not just the movies but the reality of it, the actual cases that book and film drew from. Wayne indulging in his habit by providing him with some ill gotten possessions of real life murder and crime scene evidence didn’t help either. 

At one point, when he was still trying to fix this, trying to salvage what was left of their relationship as family, he used one of his few talents and escapes to entertain his brother. He has a love for art, drawing, and has filled sketchbooks over the years with his sketches and musings. Mostly on the nights he would be re-watching a movie he had already seen, picked apart and analysed for the fifth time at least, something to help divide his attention and occupy his hands the night gaming didn’t seem appealing.  

He did a series of sketches in secret, he researched a lot to make them happen, and one night he showed Richie pencil outlines, red ink for blood, showing off various people from the cases, either dead or dying or whatever struck him as right. He thinks it might have been the time Richie was happiest with him,recalling the praise and excited ramblings, even if Richie didn’t know art, he gave it up for Ethan’s attention to detail and the visceral and violent nature he depicted in his work. 

“The black and white with only the blood being coloured?! It’s so, what’s the right word-Striking! It’s so striking.” 

Ethan tried to be happy too but it still felt hollow because it was all about what his brother wanted, when he tried to show him any non-Woodsboro or Stab related sketches he didn’t give them a second glance and certainly no compliment. Richie started making requests of even more intense extreme and grotesque nature, and then it became somewhat of an obligation as opposed to a project he was doing on his own time and for his own strange curiosity and enjoyment. Portraying these horrifying acts with starting realism was challenging and he had to admit that when he nailed the milky dead eyed look of a victim in a crime scene or the cross hatching was just perfect, he felt a sick and odd sense of…What was it? Pride? Amusement? Longing? It was a hard to define, outright miasma of emotions. 

The drawings get less and less as time wears on and his brother stops asking as much.

His dad is fucking insane, so is his sister, they say grief makes people do crazy things, but plotting to frame someone for murder to clear your son’s name is up there as probably one of the most extreme reactions one can have. He didn’t even really want to be a part of it but his dad and sister just immediately started talking as if he would be down, not considering his feelings or that he might not want this but that was how it was in his family.

No one ever thought of what Ethan wanted, they just assumed he’d go with the flow, the conversation “convincing him” was short, like they expected him to give way with a stiff breeze. So he had no choice, he lied, he said, of course he wanted to help, that he felt everything that they did but he didn’t. 

What he did feel was a misguided sense of hope, the idea that he might be able to have a real place in this family once everyone feels that they have avenged Richie. They can be a family again and now that he is the only son his dad will have to pay attention to him, and have to love him. 

Everything they suggested he went along with, all the convoluted and complicated details he was here for it and ready to do whatever they asked.

Wrapping his head around the act of it took some doing. Some late nights sat up wondering if he could really do that, could take someone's life, and after much internal fighting he decided it was worth it. What else did he have outside of his family? He invested so much time, so much effort, he couldn’t give up now, if this works then they can be happy and he can have everything he ever wanted, have them care about and for him. 

He wanted to show them as well as himself he could, if Richie could do it, so could he. 

It was around this time he showed his dad the sketches he showed Richie before. It did what he hoped, showed him he was serious about this, it curried some favour, he felt good, a sense of pride as his dad complimented his work. When the sketches were framed and included in the collection he actually cried that night, when alone, that sense of hope grew.

The plan formed quickly, Wayne and Quinn were obsessed and entirely consumed with it. He learned fast that anything he had to contribute would be heavily scrutinised and most likely rejected, he was just expected to fill the role they wanted of him.

As the plan grew it became painfully apparent that there was a lot expected of him, not only did he have to fit into the plan, play his part in the killings, he had to insert himself into the friend group, be there to help lead them where they needed to be and throw off suspicion and more. Quinn slotted herself in as Sam and Terra’s roommate and all the while had been frothing up a subreddit and online community dedicated to proving Richie as innocent and Sam as the true villain. He watched a few times and was present when Quinn would be going on her posting sprees, VPNs, fake IP’s and dummy accounts where tons upon tons of things were posted to push the narrative in the direction she wanted. It was honestly kind of scary, the dedication, the meanness she displayed. Ethan was glad he wasn’t on Quinn’s shit list, having her being not just pissed but willing and ready to dedicate large swaths of her life and time to tearing your life apart is terrifying. 

The lead up was a nerve wracking, what if he couldn’t worm his way in? What would he do then? It would cement him as a failure to his family. There was a lot of pressure to succeed but luckily, he and Chad got along really well. 

Or at least that is what Chad and the group thought which is what was really important. 

When it came down to it, after he was settled into the routine and knew the core group, it was time for the real plan to get going. The killings kicked off, he’d been amping himself up for it, trying to really get himself in the headspace to do it but something unexpected happened. Wearing the outfit and the mask, he chased down the victim that was supposed to be for practice, to make sure he could really do it when the time came, a totally nobody of a person, he managed to catch them with relative ease. 

The knife slid into that first victim and when he stabbed them, he felt alive, more alive than he ever had and also he felt seen. 

Even with the mask on, even though the person couldn’t see his face, their eyes were locked on him, centred in this moment, focused totally on him, the blade in his hand, driven into their stomach, it was shockingly intimate. A nervous lick of his lips behind the decaying mask, heavy breathing, his own chest heaving, an urge strikes, he follows the instinct he twists the knife. The body below him, because that is what it is, no longer a human, not a person with a life, thoughts, hopes or dreams, it is a body, one that is quickly dying, is going weak in the knees. 

Shakey blood stained hands clutching weakly at him, trying to push him away but he had stolen all the breath from their lungs when he forced his way inside, had affected them. He had changed them, is in the process of destroying them, altering them irrevocably, for the worse. He feels powerful for the first time maybe ever. He pulls the knife out and the soon to be corpse gasps, mouth open, blood on their teeth they whimper pathetically, he drives the knife forward again and it becomes a blur after that. Stab, rip, tear, in and out, back and forth warm sprays of blood and sounds of pain and anguish, wetness soaks through his glove and the robe and nothing has felt better. Being inside someone, turns out, no matter the context of the penetration, is a sensation he had been craving down to the marrow in his bones and now he was woken up to it. Knew what he had been missing. He craves it again, he wants more.

The strength it takes to accomplish the goal, to leave the body on the wet pavement, totally slack, eyes dead, skin turning cold, leaves him panting, sweaty and satisfied, staring down at the mess of red and spilled intestines. It didn’t feel like enough. Thankfully this is only the first time, the first of many, there will be plenty more opportunities to play, to have fun, to practise and get better, to forge new memories. 

Robe and mask in his bag, coat slipped on and zipped up to cover the blood that had soaked through the costume to his shirt, he leaves the body behind after dumping it into the dumpster. A trembling hand ran through heavy sweat soaked curls, he felt totally high on what he just did. 

No one expects him, no one is aware of the brutality he is capable of because of all the sheer frustration he has bubbling underneath the surface. He is going to show everyone that he has worth, he can do this. 

A chew of his bottom lip as he thinks and relives what he just experienced, vivid images and sound dancing through his mind as he is walking to the subway, thoughts of how this can give him everything he wanted. 

It’s all so clear, no one can ignore him with a seven inch steel blade buried in their body. If this is all it took to get a little attention and recognition, then he would have started doing it sooner. Richie was a self centred idiot, but he was right about this at the very least, killing has undeniable appeal that he intended to fully lose himself in, and finally things will change for him.

[misfithive]

Omg yessss someone who finally understands what it feels like 😭😭

I’m so tired of people always saying “this isn’t hs, this is a DrAmA series, what do you expect?” in that condescending tone that is used to make you look stupid, acting like we didn’t watch s1 and even with THAT finale, it made us stay and continue it. Bc s1 was balanced. Yes, very bad things happened but there were also calm and nice moments. And throughout the seasons the angst got more and more and the fluff got less and less. Excuse me if I’d like to see them happy for once especially since this is the very last season and what we got is that Simon is very sad, Wilhelm is losing his damn mind over and over again and two cute moments out of a thousand intense/angsty. It’s exhausting and it doesn’t make me excited to watch it. I don’t even rewatch s2 fully bc it’s too much, I’m scared I won’t be able to enjoy this one either…

Tbh idk how people can be so happy about seeing them once again go through hell, but maybe that’s me.

You know what months ago i probably would have tried to make u feel better and say that it’s probably gonna be nice moments in there as thats what i was telling myself for the past year that they are boyfriends now so they wont be fighting as bad but i did not know that there was a fate worse than fighting lmfao like i cannot get over the rock thru his window thats so traumatic. And “love isnt supposed to be this hard” LISA WHAT THE FUCK WHY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I need to see them happy and smiling and joking together bc if we dont see it we will never see it i feel like thats what the added pressure is. And the logical side of my brain is like well they will be joking around together at the palace from that teaser but then i’m like okay but then august ruins it and Wille is upset again at the meeting so idk im also finding it a bit exhausting. Its legit whiplash i was so happy to see them happy in the stills then that trailer came out of nowhere crushing my soul i think i just wasnt expecting it to be that intense i thought that one moment in the uniforms would be like the height of it.

I’m mostly scared bcs im serious that trailer really fucked me up and i want to be able to enjoy the season im scared its going to be too intense or trigger me in some way when all i wanted was to see them happy for more than 5 minutes. i dont want somber yes we are so in love but our lives are miserable. I genuinely need to see them LAUGHING AND HAPPY BCS THEY ARE 16 and this is so legitimately unfair 😭😭😭😭😭☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

[irlwakko]

ok chat time for me to post a WORSE take. i think that, while mal did NOT help because come on thats MAL we are talking about, mike landed himself in juvie after he fought some older kids trying to jump another kid but he does not remember that (especially since getting sent to juvie was so bad for him that mal had to take over as the system host for the time period) and just assumes it was mal because mal is supposed to be the 'troublemaker'.

in general i like to think that mal and mike resent each other for the traits they repress in themselves. but thats just me and my love for narrative foils and whats better for that than two persecutory alters that have different reasons for what they do

~ 🌙

Ooh no this isn’t a bad take at all it’s a really cool one!!!! I don’t personally have a headcanon for why they got sent to juvie or even who ‘caused’ it, I keep changing my mind on it. Sometimes I wanna go genuine and angsty with it, but also I joked with an IRL friend once that Mal got them sent to juvie for something stupid like vandalism. I also cannot for the LIFE of me remember where I saw this headcanon this is NOT mine, but someone else suggested that Duncan and Mal actually met in some sort of inpatient psychiatric facility and are both lying about it because juvie sounds “better” to them

I love love love Mike and Mal as parallels but also I think they’re such obvious parallels and I like finding parallels that are less obvious. Like how Zoey initially had the urge to sacrifice Cameron to win the million in ROTI (so many people forget this!!!!!) but fought against that urge because Cameron was her friend, vs. Mal who has no connection to Cameron and in general things friendships and even alliances are only points of weakness and actually DOES sacrifice Cameron one season later. Is that a parallel? Idk. I’m not saying friendship could’ve saved Mal but I’m fascinated by the fucked-up way Mal seems to view interpersonal relationships. And also fascinated by the fact Zoey would feel the urge to sacrifice her friend to a man-eating plant. what was I talking about again

[luzlylovely]

Thanks For Coming, I'll Be Here All Week

Rating: T (modern au, referenced alcohol abuse, angst with a happy ending, pre-relationship)

Joe watched him without saying anything and George fought to keep still under his gaze. It was heavy, calculating; like he could see right through George’s skin and into his threadbare soul. It was uncomfortable, and George didn’t do well with uncomfortable. Usually, he’d crack a joke to break the tension, but he just didn’t have it in him. And something was telling him that Joe didn’t need or want that.

Hello! I love Band of Brothers so much and I've been so excited and nervous to write for these characters. I haven't written any fanfic in over two years but these fellas consume my thoughts, so here we are.

This was definitely not intended to be as angsty as it became, but I cannot get over Luz using his humor to cope and this just happened.

I hope you enjoy it! Thank you kindly!

Read it on ao3

By design, George Luz could not, under any circumstances, keep his goddamn mouth shut. The words on this particular night in question hadn’t even been some of his better work, which was the real crime. But the universe was a fickle bitch, and tonight she’d decided that George would end it with his ass firmly planted outside the bar on the wet curb and not even close to the level of drunk he’d been aiming for.

“What’d you say this time?” Frank Perconte asked, silhouetted against the lights of The 101 ’s partially burnt out sign.

George shrugged, pulling out his last cigarette and patting his pockets for a lighter he knew wasn’t there, “I’m embarrassed to say.”

“C’mon, don’t leave me hangin’ here.” Frank handed him a sleek silver zippo, “I’m on the edge of my goddamn seat.”

“‘Your mother’.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Frank hummed, “Not your best work.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” George shrugged again, leaning forward on his knees and taking a drag on his cigarette.

“That’s really all you said to get kicked out?”

“That’s really all I said to get kicked out. Some random, drunk asshole was being a drunk asshole, I said ‘your mother’, Dick didn’t want anything to kick off, so here we are.” George pitched his voice to mimic that of 1970’s television host, “Tune in next time to see what happens to our contestant on ‘Unlucky In Luz’ .”

“‘ Unlucky in Luz’ , huh? That’s actually not bad.”

George responded with a noncommittal grunt, attention focused on the pavement between his feet. Stared at his hands and the bruises and scratches that hadn’t healed from a few days ago, scattered over the knuckles of his right hand. What a way to end a week, huh? George’s recent string of bad luck just wouldn’t seem to run out.

“Well,” Frank turned towards the door. “They can’t keep you out forever.”

George chuckled ruefully, “Yeah, especially since Lew asked me to cover two shifts this week.” He got up, brushing off the seat of his jeans, “Shit, I guess I’ll catch you later, Perc. Keep out of trouble, yeah?”

“Not a problem when you’re taking it all with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” George waved him off as he turned up his collar. He took one last look at the entrance to The 101 as Frank went inside then put his cigarette to his lips and ducked his head down against the cold to trudge home. He had about a third of the cigarette left, just enough to last him on his short walk to his shitty studio apartment if he hurried. An easy-peasy end to an otherwise stupid fucking night.

Or, it would’ve been, had it not been for the absolute bulldozer of a man George ran into at full speed.

His cigarette flew out of his mouth and onto the damp pavement, “Oh, Jesus Christ!”

“Oh, fuck!” The other guy huffed out, stumbling back. “The fuck are you doing?”

George was hunched over, scrabbling for the cigarette before the damp cement killed it, “It’s my last one, man.”

“That’s disgusting.”

He brought it to his lips and puffed quickly, watching the cherry glow with relief, “Yeah, well, desperate times.” As George straightened, he wiped his hands on his pants, “And if you were watching where you were going, I wouldn’t have to be smoking a dirt cigarette right now anyway so–”

Shit .

Well, if tall, dark, and glare-y wasn’t the best looking guy George had ever seen, he probably would have finished that sentence with some sort of scathing quip. One for the books, really. But as it happened, tall, dark, and glare-y was the best looking guy George had ever seen so George just stood there staring at his stupidly gorgeous face with his slightly damp smoke drooping between his lips wishing he’d be struck by lightning or hit by a rogue hot air balloon or something.

“Right, well maybe take your own advice and watch where you’re going next time you’re traveling with precious cargo.” His tone was vicious and his voice was oh, so rough. If the guy didn’t look so ready to fight and coiled up like a spring, George would probably turn into a jelly mold of himself at that voice.

But, given the circumstance, George just blinked. He’d been in his share of brawls sure, but, for one, he didn’t want to fight this guy because, second, he was sure he’d lose.

George noted the squared stance, the flexing hands, and the fire behind the stranger’s challenging stare. Jesus, I thought I was having a bad night .

“Look, man. Whatever, alright? I’m sorry I crashed into you, it’s not been my best day, it’s my last cigarette, I’m grouchy, I’m backing off, how about you back off, huh?” George almost closed his eyes as he waited for the punch to land, but he leveled his gaze instead. Patiently– though it had never been one of his strong suits.

“Have a nice night, asshole,” the guy huffed, and he turned and walked away.

Nasally laughter rang out, and for the first time, George noticed that the guy wasn’t alone. He watched as the two of them continued down the sidewalk before entering The 101 .

He took a drag of his cigarette and was granted nothing for his efforts. Burnt down to the filter.

Fuck.

He tossed the yellow butt to the ground and made the rest of his journey home, committing to memory every detail he could remember about the surly stranger.

Rich, brown eyes rimmed with dark, dark lashes. Strong nose and jaw. A furrowed, expressive brow. Kiss-me mouth. Christ , a face like that oughta be criminal. George also distinctly remembered the feeling of being bulldozed by the built-like-a-brick-shithouse body. He might actually wake up with bruises. He hoped he woke up with bruises.

How long had it been since he’d gotten laid?

George made it to his building; a squat row of a couple vacant spaces, cheap restaurants, one florist, two laundromats that somehow stayed in business– though he never saw anyone enter the premises– and a few studio apartments on the second floor. He walked around back and trekked up the rusted steps to his landing to fumble with his keys before making his way inside. He had to shove the deadbolt into place, because it didn’t really sit right in its place and wouldn’t likely do much against an intruder. Like most of the apartment, it was, in truth, falling apart. The radiator didn’t work quite right. The AC also didn’t really do its job. The refrigerator didn’t stay closed unless you shut it at the right angle (a lesson learned thrice too many times), and the shower head made a high pitched squealing noise that sounded like an amateur mosquito mariachi band. But George was handy when he needed to be, and at the lack of a landlord that gave a shit, he was at least better off than he had been at the start of renting this place. And, well, it was home.

Shuffling off his coat and kicking away his shoes, he called out, “Honey, I’m home!” to John Wayne, his cat.

She glanced at him primly from her perch on the windowsill by the bed as he set about refilling her food and water before getting ready to turn in for the night. Many had asked how he’d named the snow white, demure little puff ball after the legendary cinematic cowboy, but George vowed to never tell.

“You would not believe the night I had, little lady,” George began, before regaling her with the night’s adventures.

He settled into bed, scratching gently behind John Wayne’s ears and she nuzzled into his palm with a purr as he finished his tale that included far more details and half-truths than were probably necessary.

“Me and my big mouth, huh? Can’t be too mad at it this time, though,” George booped her nose. “Not the worst kind of trouble it ever got me into before. Not by a long shot” He settled back against his pillows, arms behind his head, thinking of rich, brown eyes rimmed with dark, dark lashes, “Better than I deserve, at least.”

*****

“Would you look at what the cat dragged in,” Harry drawled as George shouldered his way into The 101 .

“Hold the applause, please,” George deadpanned as he stowed his jacket and keys away beneath the bar and rolled up his sleeves.

Harry leaned against the bar, shit-eating grin smeared across his face, “Lew tells me Dick kicked you out on Friday.” George lifted a shoulder in confirmation, pouring himself a pint that Harry benevolently ignored. “He also told me you missed all the fun.

“Oh yeah? What fun was that?”

“Couple friends of Babe’s came in after you got booted and one of them ended up knocking the lights outta the guy you mouthed off to. All of Dick’s hard work towards keeping the peace with you out the window within an hour, how about that, huh?”

George took a beat for a few swallows of beer, “What did this guy look like? Tall, dark, and grumpy? Did his friend sound like he’d been battling a cold for the better part of a decade?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Harry shrugged, “I didn’t come in after you’d gone. I heard this all second-hand. Why, you know these guys?”

George shrugged, “Maybe. I ran headfirst into a couple of guys on my way home and one of them looked like he was ready to hit someone, I was just glad it wasn’t me.” I might’ve been glad if it had been me . “We didn’t really get to chatting.”

“Well, Babe’s planning to show up tonight, and I’m sure he did some damage control with Dick so who knows? Maybe his violent buddies will be back to give our good Captain another heart attack.”

George nodded noncommittally as he finished his beer and got ready for his shift. He wasn’t surprised to hear that Babe was expected to be at The 101 tonight. There was a solid group of regulars that showed up most days, and when he wasn’t working, George was usually among them. He wasn’t sure how they’d all come together over the years, but the bar had molded them into a rather tight knit group and George considered them his good friends.

The first to make an appearance that night was Joe Liebgott, and George chucked an ice cube at him when he sat down.

“Hey! What gives, Luz?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Liebgott reached over the bar to pour himself a beer, “Grabbing a drink, what else would I be doing?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” George glared, “literally anything else considering this is your shift that I’m covering right now.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks for that, buddy. I owe you one,” He said with a smirk and a wink that George responded to with another handful of ice cubes. “Be careful where you’re throwing those things, alright? I’ll pull you from the magazine if you’re not careful.”

George offered his own hidden beer from behind the bar– was that his third of the night so far? Got to keep better track of that, George – to clink together in truce, “Your empty threats fall on deaf ears, Lieb. You might be able to find a better designer, but no one would put up with you.”

“Yeah, I’ll drink to that,” they toasted their respective drinks and settled into casual conversation.

George knew there wouldn’t be an explanation from Liebgott about why he’d needed coverage for his shift and why he’d shown up anyway, and George knew he wouldn’t pitch in to help out, so George let the subject drop and shot the shit as more customers trickled in. Mondays weren’t usually busy, and he could take the time to talk to a friend in between pouring a pint. They talked about the magazine Joe owned, an underground punk publication that George did the graphic design elements for. It wasn’t very big, but they sold a decent amount of online subscriptions and had started to sell physical copies in a few record stores around town in the past months. It had also introduced George to Liebgott and The 101 , so he supposed he could deal with covering a shift that didn’t really need to be covered.

Eventually, Skip Muck and Don Malarkey came in, and sometime after that, Frank, too. A handful of others that George vaguely recognized were scattered around, playing darts and shooting pool while his friends were laughing at the bar. But, each time the door opened, he couldn’t help but hope to see those brown eyes rimmed with dark, dark lashes.

He looked to the door again as it swung open, and felt guilty for being disappointed at seeing the tall and pale Buck Compton.

“George Luz! We missed you on Friday, could’ve used your commentary.”

He quirked a grin and poured a scotch, “I heard it was a real knock-down-drag-out affair. How’s it going, Buck?”

“Same as it always goes, can’t complain, anyway.” Buck paused, seeming to mull over what he was going to say next, “What about you?”

George didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. Everyone knew about his big blow up last week, even if they’d hadn’t been present, he didn’t doubt that word had traveled fast. You hear about Luz? Yeah, didn’t he punch a wall or some shit? That’s what I heard. What happened? I don’t know, apparently he didn’t say anything about it and just left. Showed back up the next day like nothing happened.

Everyone knew about it, and everyone had the good sense to let it lie. Everyone, that is, but Buck Compton.

George pressed a smile into his lips, the lopsided one he knew told people that he was a fun guy to have around, a real laugh, the life of the party, “I’m swell, Buck. No complaints here, either.”

He watched as Buck’s eyes flickered down to the knuckles on his right hand, now yellowed and still scabbed over in a couple places where George hadn’t been able to stop from picking.

“Glad to hear it, Luz. Glad to hear it.”

Buck started a game of darts with Muck and Malarkey, so George was left to go about his business. He should’ve felt relieved, but it opened a pit in his stomach the size of Texas.

That night last week had been his worst in a long, long while. He’d been able to push away the shame and guilt of knowing his friends had seen him like that, his coworkers– shit– his fucking bosses, had seen him like that because everyone else had been as ready to sweep it under the rug as he had been.

It wasn’t Buck’s fault that he wanted to check in on George, he couldn’t be mad about that. It’s what friends did. It’s what George would do if the roles were reversed, he told himself. But, Christ, if it didn’t just remind him that all these people in his life knew what a fuck-up he was. He just had to get his shit together.

George suddenly felt the weight of someone’s attention upon him and he looked up to see the pale face, brown eyes, and red, red hair of Babe Heffron across the bar leveling him with a look of concern, “Hey, George, you good? Haven’t been taking too much advantage of those complimentary employee drinks, have you?”

“Who, me?” George was quick to turn on the charm, lopsided grin in place, “No, just thinking about how much I was missing you, Babe. And look! Here you are, returned to me at last.”

Babe appeared to be convinced at that, and George relaxed enough to notice that he wasn’t alone. Slightly behind him was a shorter man with a steely glint in his eye and a hard-set jaw, but the kind of lines around his eyes that told George he liked to laugh a lot. And next to him was George’s stranger.

He felt his eyes widen as he recognized the good-looking man, now confirmed to be one of Babe’s friends from Friday, and the object of all of George’s daydreams since then. He didn’t seem to recognize George, which stung a bit, but that might be for the best.

“Usual for you, Babe? What can I get your friends here?”

The shorter man ordered in a slightly nasally voice George recognized, and then tall, dark and handsome got the same with that gravelly timbre that had George’s toes curling.

“Yeah, George, these are my buddies from work Bill Guarnere,” the shorter, “and Joe Toye.”

Finally the stranger had a name! Joe fucking Toye! George was ready to put on his best West Side Story performance. Joe Toye.

Babe was still talking, “I brought ‘em here Friday to introduce to everyone, but, uh, you’d already left, so I was told.”

George snorted as he finished pouring the beers, “And it was quite the evening, so I was told.”

He glanced towards Joe to see his jaw twitch and Bill laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, “Oh yeah, our buddy Joe here made a real good first impression. We’re lucky to have our sweet angelic baby-faced Babe here to smooth everything over for us, or I don’t think there’d be a bar in the county we wouldn’t be banned from.”

Joe remained stoic and Babe and Bill continued their ribbing, glancing over at George who averted his gaze.

“Why weren’t you there, anyway? I’d heard you’d been kicked out for the night, but no details.”

George rolled his eyes, “Jesus, you guys gossip more than my mother. I was running my mouth and Dick didn’t want anything to start up so our kind and amenable George Luz volunteered to vacate the premises.”

“Yeah,” Babe scoffed, “I’m sure that’s exactly how it went down.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed and he smacked a hand against Joe, “Hey, didn’t we run into you? Yeah, yeah, you were the guy who barreled into Joe and dropped his cigarette.”

Joe really looked at George then.

“Yeah. That would be me.”

Joe just lifted the corner of his mouth in a phantom of a smirk, “You were a real sorry sack of shit. I would’ve felt sorry for you if you hadn’t headbutted me.”

George froze, caught right in Joe’s gaze. The heat of embarrassment rose over his collar and he saw amusement dance behind the brown of Joe’s eyes. Well, at least the guy still isn’t mad.

Bill laughed again, and some of the other guys came over to say their hellos to Babe and reintroduce themselves to Bill and Joe, so the conversation ended there.

The rest of his shift was spent in a whirlwind of pouring beers and half finished conversations, and George didn’t really get to talk to Joe again. But, he looked whenever he could spare the glance. And if he caught Joe looking back, the bar was just dim enough he could convince himself it was just a trick of the light.

As the bar closed down and he and Harry got everything set up for the next day, Dick called his attention.

“George, can I borrow you for a second?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

He finished wiping down the table he was at, casting a last look towards where Joe was walking out of the bar with Babe and Bill and the rest of the guys, and walked out back to where he knew Dick and his auburn hair were waiting. He probably wanted to talk to him about Friday. Anytime George had to be sent home for his mouth, they had a “conversation” about it later in which Dick would very sternly tell him to be more courteous, George would say ‘sir, yes sir’, and they’d both walk away knowing they’d have the same conversation in the near future. Dick knew George was mostly harmless, and George knew that Dick just really cared about his people and his business, so it worked out.

“What can I do you for, Dick?” George leaned against the wall and lit up a cigarette, offering one knowing that Dick would refuse.

As expected, the bossman declined. Instead, he heaved a sigh, “Buck’s worried about you.” George started to respond, but Dick stopped him, “I am too, so is Lew and Harry. Everyone is. What happened last week, George?”

“I’ve become a gym rat. Pre-workout got the best of me.”

“George.”

Jesus, tough crowd. “Look, Dick, I’m really sorry about last week. I know it was stupid and you have every right to fire me. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I’m not firing you,” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth before crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m just trying to get you to talk to me, here. You keep a tight lid on things, I know you know that you do, but I don’t think you’re doing well. Besides hitting a wall, I’ve seen you drinking more. Do you think it’s good for you to be working at a bar right now with whatever’s going on?”

“I’m not an alcoholic.”

“I’m not saying you are. But, you’re clearly not talking to anyone about this, so maybe drinking is an easier way to get through it?”

George sagged against the wall, “You’re real perceptive, you know that?”

“I try to look after my people,” Dick gave him a small smile.

George could open up to Dick. He was a good man with an open heart and the kind of loyalty that was hard to come by. George could tell him about the constant feeling of inadequacy and being a disappointment. The need to perform, to constantly earn his place in each and every relationship he has for fear of losing it. He could tell Dick all these things, and Dick would listen and reassure him and would never breathe a word of it to anyone else. It would probably lift that sisyphean burden that pressed upon his shoulders some.

But, no. George couldn’t do that. Speaking any of his shit out loud made it too real to bear, and he was only just holding on as it was.

“I’m just going through a rough patch right now. The wall thing was a one-off, I swear to you. And I know about the drinking, I see it, too, and I’ll cut back.” Dick didn’t look convinced, so George pressed on, “I’m doing better, I’ll do better. This really helped, actually. It’s good to know I’ve got people in my corner, you know?”

Dick sighed, “I’m not the only one, either. Just, let someone know if you need a hand, George. And I’m limiting you to two drinks per shift.”

“Yeah, man. Thanks.”

*****

George worked three more nights at The 101 that week, each one much the same as the last. He limited his drinking, even if he did sneak a shot or two when he knew neither Dick nor Lew was looking, and kept a tight leash on his growing sense of anxiety. A smile was always in place, a joke was always at the ready, and a pep was always in his step.

For the most part George was pretty sure it was working. Dick kept giving him the kind of looks that reminded George of his mother, but Buck seemed placated, and no one else appeared concerned, so George was taking his wins where he could.

He even saw Joe again, on Wednesday, when Babe and Bill returned. Like Monday, they had a brief conversation, and then spent the rest of the night playing darts or talking with other patrons, but George was happy to just look at the guy.

He started to notice things about Joe.

Joe was pretty quiet, usually taking the backseat to Bill and Babe’s raucous laughter, but George always noticed the hint of a smile that peaked through at their joking. George’s ears also seemed particularly attuned to his deep voice and how it rolled over the room whenever he made a rare quip. Always wicked sharp and cool without being cruel, humor in the driest sense that had George hiding a smile every time.

George liked those moments, when he could be a part of the audience and not the entertainment.

He tried not to be too disappointed when Joe didn’t show up on Thursday.

When Friday dawned, George rolled out of bed already exhausted. He had some work to do for Liebgott’s magazine and the stupid radiator was acting up again, so he already knew it was going to be a long, cold day.

John Wayne meowed at him, a not-so-gentle reminder that it was well past her breakfast time. “Deepest apologies, my love,” he yawned, trudging to the kitchen to fill her bowls.

Soon enough, his coffee was ready, too, and a bagel was toasted. But, George had forgotten to buy more oat milk and cream cheese, so breakfast sucked. Then, he couldn’t get the layout to look right for the spread he was working on for the newest issue of the magazine, which also sucked. And to top off the day, by the time he got around to trying to fix the radiator, he realized he didn’t have the right part– more than two hours into the project, by the way– and the hardware store down the road had already closed. Premium suckage.

George was cold and crabby, but at least John Wayne didn’t seem bothered in the least. She, in all her fluff, was curled up contently next to the internet router that he knew was steadily radiating warmth. Unlike the actual radiator.

“Must be nice,” he grumbled.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, George stood up from where he knelt by the useless appliance, considered giving it a good kick, and checked his phone instead. There was a text from Frank asking if he was going to The 101 and George flopped onto his bed with a sigh. He hadn’t planned on it, knowing that Dick was still keeping an eye on his drinking, and given the day he’d had, hell, the past couple of weeks he’d had, the idea was just to stay home and plow through a six pack on his own while watching The X-Files and fantasizing about Fox Mulder.

I don’t know, probably not, he sent back.

Frank’s reply came quickly, Cmon, man. Everyone’s coming out tonight, I’ll make sure you don’t get yourself into any trouble.

George didn’t think that was particularly likely, he and trouble were two peas in a pod. But, if everyone was going to be there, that meant Babe. And if Babe was going to be there, maybe Joe would, too.

Alright, fine.

He tossed his phone to the side and stared at the ceiling.

This was probably a bad idea, going to a bar in the hopes of bumping into a guy he was lusting after when he felt so fucked up inside. Then again, isn’t that what most of the single population of the world did every Friday night?

“John Wayne, you’ll pick me up if I fall apart completely, right?” He looked over at the pristine white cat to see her lift an eyelid before settling back into her nap. “Thanks, love.”

By the time George had eaten dinner, showered, gotten dressed, and changed his mind more than a few times about going out, it was already past ten-o-clock. The walk to The 101 was cold, and he pulled his coat around him tightly, cursing Frank for inviting him out and cursing himself for accepting. He pulled out a cigarette right as it began to rain, cold and biting.

“Fucking fantastic.”

He opened the door to the bar, damp and barely suppressing a shiver. His signature grin was nowhere near it’s usual brightness, even he could feel it, but at least he could blame it on the rain.

Only a few heartbeats passed before he heard a chorus of voices calling out his name. George found the source toward the back corner of the room near some of the dart boards and sent a wave before heading to the bar. Liebgott was working tonight along with Lew, who was at the other end.

“Hey, Lieb, how’s it going?”

A pint of George’s preferred beer was already being poured, “Nothing but the same, yourself?”

“Yeah.” George hesitated before asking, “Can you do me a favor?”

Liebgott frowned slightly before nodding.

“Cut me off at four tonight, would you?”

“Sure, George. You got it.” He didn’t ask why and George wasn’t going to tell him, so they left it at that.

He turned away from the bar, about to join the others when he almost ran face first into the broad torso of Joe Toye.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Joe grumbled in that low, toe-curling voice, mouth quirking up at one side in the ghost of a smirk.

George swallowed before chuckling, “Well, everyone’s always telling me I’ve got no sense. Maybe if I run into you a couple more times it’ll knock some into me.” Yeesh, couldn’t come up with anything better than that?

Joe at least had the grace to lift his shoulders in the semblance of a laugh before saying, “So, you trying to cut back?”

“What?”

He nodded to George’s drink, “Limiting yourself. Do you tend to go overboard?”

“Oh,” George felt his neck get hot, “it’s just been a weird couple of weeks, you know? And, well, I work here and I don’t want the bossman to see me making a fool of myself or anything.” Again. “So, just, playing it safe, I guess.”

Joe nodded, looking hard at George for long enough that he felt like fidgeting. “Well,” Joe finally said, “good luck. I’ll see you around. We’re playing darts.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you later.”

Leaving Joe at the bar, George joined the rest of his friends. The night went as they usually went; bets on dart games, half true stories told to get laughs, and drinks all around. Buck occasionally slid him sidelong glances, but when George helped him hustle Joe and Bill out of a couple cartons of cigarettes, the looks stopped. Muck, Malarkey, and Alex Penkala had control of the jukebox and were playing nothing but Cher songs before Johnny Martin and Bull Randleman shouldered them out of the way, but then those two were stuck arguing over classic rock or classic country, so the Cher played on. Through it all, George was laughing and putting on the Luz show, belting out showtunes when appropriate and providing impressions when asked.

And, Jesus Christ, was he getting tired.

Not even two hours in, and he could already see the bottom of his fourth drink.

“Luz!” Frank shouted from three whole feet away, “Do that one guy who would come in and always clog the toilet!” Muck and Penkala egged him on.

George sighed inwardly, downing the rest of his beer before altering his voice into a stilted cadence, “Excuse me, but, uh, I think that, uh, someone may have clogged… the toilet!”

The trio laughed and George joined in, if halfheartedly. He stared at his empty glass and considered ordering another, but knew it wasn’t of any use. Liebgott could be a real prick when he wanted to be, but he’d hold George to his request and cap him at four, and he knew that Lieb had been keeping track.

“Heading out soon?”

George looked up into brown eyes rimmed with dark, dark lashes and raised a brow.

Joe waved a hand towards the empty glass, “That’s your fourth, right?”

“You been counting?”

He shrugged, “I might’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need it,” George felt blood creep up his neck and he lifted his shoulders in an attempt to hide it.

Joe watched him without saying anything and George fought to keep still under his gaze. It was heavy, calculating; like he could see right through George’s skin and into his threadbare soul. It was uncomfortable, and George didn’t do well with uncomfortable. Usually, he’d crack a joke to break the tension, but he just didn’t have it in him. And something was telling him that Joe didn’t need or want that.

“You got a smoke?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah, sure?” George almost tripped over his own feet as he made his way towards the back door the employees used for their smoke breaks. Neither Lew nor Lieb would stop him from bringing a friend around back for a cigarette, if he could call Joe a friend.

George opened the door and held it for Joe who walked out and waited for George to lead him on. George directed them towards the back wall, opposite the dumpsters where there was a curb, and promptly sat down. Joe quirked a brow, to which George merely shrugged as he fished out his pack, and joined him.

As George passed him a cigarette, Joe asked, “Do you always get that tired of it?”

“Jesus Christ,” George groaned, “you’ve got a real habit of asking me questions that I don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about.”

Chuckling, he took the offered lighter, “The only time you’re not putting on a big act is when you’re surprised, so I’m trying my best to keep you on your toes.”

“Well, yeah, okay. You’re doing a bang up job.” George was certainly surprised, “You don’t even know me.”

“Maybe not the stuff like what you like to eat or if you have any pets. But, I’ve noticed you, and how you change when you think no one’s looking at you. You’re always putting on a show for people, why is that?”

“You know, I thought you were the quiet type.”

Joe laughed at that, “Maybe I’m not trying to always impress everyone all the time. I don’t feel the need to always run my mouth,” he shot George a pointed look.

“Okay then,” George’s stomach twisted at the sound of Joe’s laugh, but it didn’t override the fact that Joe was seeing too much, saying too much. “Why’d you hit that guy last week, huh? You weren’t trying to impress anyone then?”

He stretched out his long legs and leaned back on the elbow closest to George so he faced him, offering the cigarette because George still hadn’t lit one of his own, “I’d had a shitty day and sometimes my anger gets the best of me. He was being an asshole. Why’d you mouth off to him before we got there?”

George took the cigarette and brought it to his lips, “He was being an asshole.”

“There you go,” Joe nodded, sagely. “So, you going to answer the actual question, now?”

It wasn’t raining anymore, George realized, but the pavement was still wet, and he could feel it soaking through the seat of his jeans. He looked at the knuckles of his right hand. The bruises were completely gone and the scabs had all but healed, there were only a couple thin white lines over the knuckle of his middle finger that had scarred. They’d probably disappear with time.

“Do you ever feel like you’re going to be left behind?”

Joe inhaled, “Sure.”

“I feel like that all the time, like every moment’s a test of whether I’m worthy of keeping around. Like If I don’t keep convincing everyone around me that I’m a swell fucking guy, that I’m funny, or a good time, then they’ll just forget all about little old me and I’ll be eating their dust.” George took a drag of the cigarette and watched the smoke drift away as it left his lungs, then another, and another, “So I put on the show. I do the song and dance because if I don’t, what’s the point of keeping me around, huh?” He supposed that, maybe, if he were someone else he might cry having spilled his guts like that, but he was just so damn tired.

Joe took the cigarette from his fingers, and George finally looked at him, expecting the worst. Maybe he’d have pity in his eyes, maybe he’d look disgusted, or maybe– God forbid– he’d be crying.

No, Joe looked at him as hard and as cool as George had ever seen.

“That sounds exhausting.”

George barked out a laugh, “Yeah, it fucking is.”

“Is that why you punched that wall?”

He glanced at Joe out of the corner of his eye, “You heard about that?”

“I might’ve heard something,”

George put his head in his hands, “Yeah, yeah that’s why I punched that stupid wall. I was just so tired and overwhelmed and I had nowhere to put all of the… everything.” He scrubbed his face, “I’d never done anything like that before, it just exploded out of me. Hurt like a bitch, too.”

“You should get yourself a pair of brass knuckles, I know I could use a pair,” he held out his own hand for George to see the faintest of yellowing around his knuckles from where he had his own fight last week. They sat in silence for a while, sharing the cigarette back and forth before Joe asked, “Those guys in there, are they your friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Joe nodded, turning his face to look up at the clouds, “and if they were going through some tough shit and were being moody as all hell, would you drop them just because they weren’t as happy and up as usual?”

George groaned, “Alright, I see where you’re going with this. And no, I wouldn’t, but it’s not the same–”

“Sure it is! You’re just thinking about it as cutting yourself some slack, which you won’t allow yourself, right? You can’t let yourself be the one that’s bringing everyone else down? How about you put some faith in your friends in there and trust them to stick around. They trust you to stick around, don’t they?”

George nodded.

“And you do– stick around?”

“Of course I do!”

Joe exhaled a laugh and turned to look George in the eye, “Then allow them to do the same for you once in a while, why don’t you?”

“It’s not that easy,” it came out closer to a whisper than George was willing to admit.

“Yeah, I know, but it gives you a good place to start. And it gets easier, I promise you that.”

George swallowed and took the cigarette back from Joe’s grasp, finishing it off, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They sat that way for a while in companionable silence, watching each other and watching the clouds. And for the first time in a long while, George felt the weight on his shoulders lessen. For once it seemed like not being able to keep his goddamn mouth shut might’ve gotten him out of trouble.

“By the way,” George turned to Joe with a smile, “I have a cat. Her name is John Wayne.”

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it <3

[rollercoasterwords]

jegulus!!

ridi if u are still online please look away my love <3 but yes....the jegulus brigade won me over i do in fact ship jegulus xoxo

1. what made u ship it

i read best friend's brother and choices 😐 and i thought hey yeah the angst potential is really here....like sorry but i just love a tangled web and that's what jegulus is to me!! i am but a little fly who got all wrapped up in the horrible sticky strings and now i await my doom

2. favorite things

ok so like. yeah the thing about this ship 2 me is it NEEDS the angst. like my favorite thing abt the ship is how fucked up it is i love that regulus is extremely morally ambiguous and drags james who tries so hard to cling to his moral compass into that. like 2 me it is one of the most interesting ships to explore james's flaws as a character in that his personal loyalty can really blind him to the bigger picture around him. and also the fact that like...he can be a bit of a bully like truly i think when james cares about someone he can be the nicest person in the universe but he also gets these blinders on and just crashes around and smashes into people if he isn't being careful and regulus encourages that!! and of course i love all the opportunity in jegulus fics to explore the fucked-up relationship dynamic between regulus + sirius + the effect that has on both their relationships w james and each other. like my love for jegulus has...less to do with regulus himself i think and more to do with his character as a vehicle for exploring incredibly angsty stories lmao

3. unpopular opinions

buckle up! so i mean looking above OBVIOUSLY i want jegulus to be pretty unhealthy + fucked up in most scenarios like i like the ship bc of the way these two characters highlight each others flaws so i am sorry but i cannot STAND the uwuification of jegulus. i feel like so much of the jegulus fandom is very soft and fluffy because regulus has just become the character that all u kinnies project onto which...well i mean i have already written an essay on why i think that happened so i will not go on lol. but YEAH regulus is kind of evil to me SORRY and james is a bit of a cunt too and i think they make each other a bit worse in many ways. ALSO. timothee chalamet is NOT regulus jesus christ!!!!! jesus h christ!!!! my friends my loves my dears i NEED u to free ur minds from the shackles of these stupid cigarette men who all look like the rat from flushed away PLEASE regulus is. a less attractive version of sirius. sure he's fine to look at but he's nothing special which. honestly timothee chalamet would fit that bill if not for u bitches SALIVATING over him dear god. CEASE AND DESIST!!!!

[miahasahardname]

for the character + emoji thing - Jake, Liam and Henry TMF and the sunset duo (any TMNT show): ❤️🧡💛💚📖🏡❤️‍🩹😋

(sorry if this is a bit much 😅)

omg omg ok

idk if it’s meant to be in order or i do all of these for each character listed? i’ll do the latter because i think it’d be more fun

(sorry if these aren’t great, i’m trying my best)

OK!

JAKE

otp - a tie between jaisy and jenry. both mean absolutely everything to me, just for different reasons! (i’m a big fan of fluffy ships and stupid ships)

everyone i ship with this character - daisy, henry, liam and drew (how did this pathetic guy pull so many people?)

brotp - honestly? jalia. lia and jake have great potential as friends!!

notp - i don’t think i have one? (i could list the obvious incest or large age gap ships but like. you’d expect that)

au i’d like to see them in - DEAR EVAN HANSEN AU!!!!!!! (we really cooked when we chose that cast)

domestic headcanon - so him and the dromies move in with eachother. and they realise that jake is SUPER forgetful (the adhd brain fog never clears) so they start putting sticky notes everywhere to help jake remember stuff, like to do chores, to take his meds, that he has an appointment or a date or something… it helps and he’s grateful :>

angsty headcanon - so, so absolutely terrified of losing his friends that it’s genuinely taken a serious toll on his mental health. like he struggles to sleep sometimes because he’s too busy thinking about the things he said during the day and stressing if he said something wrong or if someone took a joke the wrong way. it gets worse after episode nine… i don’t think he’ll ever recover from that. :(

funny/stupid headcanon - was so desperate for money as a kid he pulled out three teeth for the tooth fairy lmao

LIAM

otp - henriam. sorry i’m crazy about them

everyone i ship with this character - drew, henry and jake (i think it’s obvious i’m a big polydromies fan)

brotp - also henriam!!

notp - can’t really think of one?

au i’d like to see them in - can. can we have a vampire liam au. would that be ok. because i’d love to see a vampire liam au.

domestic headcanon - his art covers the walls of the house. he makes sure every room is decorated appropriately, and is constantly painting or making something new to add more character to the house. his room is a total mess because of him constantly working lol

angsty headcanon - unfortunately i do not have enough Thoughts or canon to go off of to make an angsty headcanon. disappointing :(

funny/stupid headcanon - absolute menace on halloween. to him it’s like april fools but in autumn. he will take every oppurtunity to fuck with people on halloween, whether that be through scaring or scheming. he is not allowed to answer the door for trick or treaters because he will either start handing out onions or steal a handful of sweets from their buckets when pretending to hand out sweets. evil (i hope this made sense lmao)

HENRY

otp - JENRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

everyone i ship with this character - jake and liam

brotp - henriam. yes they’re perfect platonically and romantically!!

notp - anyone from the music club (besides jake ofc), mostly for their sanity (this doesn’t mean i would hate to see any ship with him and a music club member, i just personally would not ship it)

au i’d like to see them in - au where he’s in the music club. i just want to see the shenanigans

domestic headcanon - doesn’t do any chores because no one trusts him to be responsible

angsty headcanon - i’m sorry i genuinely cannot think of henry angst. angstless being

funny/stupid headcanon - he jokingly flirts with everyone all the time so no one knows when he’s being genuine or not (this is why you’re struggling to pull, henry!)

SUNSET DUO (doing them both at the same time ig)

i have selected 2012 sunset duo because i’m predictable lmao

otp - for raph it is definetly rasemona (is that what they’re called?) polyamory is always a W!! (also like. i cannot just choose one. it’s impossible. he’d definetly end up dating both of them anyways). i don’t really have an otp for mikey because in all honesty i don’t actually properly ship him with anyone?

everyone i ship with this character -

brotp - i mean……. brotp feels like a weird term to use for them but. it’s them. sunset duo. yippee! (i also think pepperoni pucks and raphril are fun, underrated friendship dynamics)

notp - NOT EACHOTHER. NOPE. nothing relating to tcest or other incest shit. gross weirdos

au i’d like to see them in - my very own extended family au!! i’ll talk about it one day i promise—

domestic headcanon - they’re definetly the closest brother dynamic out of all the others. they hang out regularly, whether it be they’re training together, playing video games (and getting way too competitive), or just chilling out. i feel like they’d also look after chompy and ice cream kitty together. shared responsibility or smth

angsty headcanon - thanks to their amazing twin senses (sunset duo are twins trust me) they know a lot of… dark things about eachother.

funny/stupid headcanon - they both have physical touch as their main love language, it’s just with eachother that ‘physical touch’ is beating the shit out of eachother. they will playfully slap, punch, and nudge eachother regularly, and these actions only sometimes escalate into fights where they need to be pulled apart by their brothers!

gaymers i have no idea if these made any sense or if they were even good. i’m sorry

[asstarien]

“ILL.”

 synopsis : chan deals with heavy anxiety and stress, he often has trouble dealing with it effectively.

 warnings : anxiety talk , angsty scenarios , mentions of self harm , allusion to sex , sex as a coping mechanism , men showing emotion … if you hate that? both chan and reader are toxic… [18+]

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION



“sometimes i feel like im trapped in a black room with no way to escape.”

chan punched at the blacked out walls, screaming into the never ending void of silence for help. for anyone to listen.

“nobody ever comes…im just left screaming until my throat feels like i-it’s bleeding and my…m-my fists are so bloody and raw. the dream drains me and when i finally wake up im screaming in real life too.”

your hands ran up and down his chest, soothing him before you nuzzled your forehead into his cheek. “channie? i’m here baby, im right here. it was just a dream. okay?”

“but it’s never just a dream. it’s always real life. it’s my real life.” his eyes burned with warning of crying. his fingers grabbed his nose, plugging it closed to stop the burn that radiated up his slimmed cheeks.

of course the stupid therapist jotted down everything he said, judging him silently. yet, he kept coming back because you ushered him here. telling him you were seeing a difference in the person he was becoming. Chan tried not to be hurt by this, he really did.

but once his brows scrunched together and his lips formed a heavy frown there was no turning back the argument that followed.

you guys argued for what felt like hours. it only ended because in the midst of the argument he began to put his shoes on, too riled up you didn’t notice or care that he was basically getting dressed to leave. when the door slammed in your face you fell silent, suddenly bursting out into tears as the emotions collapsed at your feet.

turning to face the empty shell of a broken home, you picked up the leftovers for dinner, choking back sobs as you scraped dinner plates out and rinsed them to be washed.

he’d come home sooner or later, he always did.

his friends made it a habit to tell you if was crashing at their places but lately, they’ve stopped filling you in. you were left to wonder and stress until the next day he stumbled in, eyes bloodshot and sleepy.

as he normally did, Chan sauntered in, stone cold emotion clad to his features. it was obvious he had been crying, the stale crusty tears that festered against his pale skin was a huge giveaway. you wanted to act like you didn’t care, that leaving wasn’t a big deal but it was much bigger than you’d ever let on.

once he disappeared behind the wall to the kitchen, you sprinted behind him, taking silent steps to watch like a hawk at his next movements.

“i don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” Chan forced out, voice hoarse and low. he slammed cabinets shut, barely turning to look in your direction, to even acknowledge you were his wife to begin with. “i’m fine.”

“i’m sorry about what i said.” you searched his back, looking for any sign of change. any sign that he might be the old Chan again and spring to hug and kiss you. and when he didn’t, you sighed and carried on. “i will always love you, Chan. every part of you…and i fucking mean that.”

you bit your tongue hard to stop the water works that wanted to spill over onto your cheeks. “but you cannot be mad at me for wanting the old you back. you just can’t. you cannot be mad at me for wanting to get you help that i cannot give you anymore.”

Chan finally did falter, his shoulders drooped and you heard his chest do the little rattle like it did when he cried. his shoulders bounced as he cried, he started crying so hard he had to take hold of the counter top, bending over it. you stepped up behind him wrapping your arms around his midsection tightly, your cheek planted into his back as you both cried.



TWO MONTHS LATER

“how are things now?”

“a bit better. we’ve moved past a hurdle together i guess, the nightmares don’t wake me up screaming anymore.”

“did you find something healthy to cope with your anxiety?”

“you could say that.” Chan was thrilled with his new outlet. he could burn energy from thinking and make you feel better all in one setting. “but i ruined that i think.”

Chan pulled out of you with a low grunt, kissing just where your shoulder and neck met before he laid beside you. unhealthy, he resorted to fucking you and himself senseless to forget about the void that just couldn’t be filled inside.

at first, you didn’t complain since this was the most sex you’ve had with him in the 4 years you’ve been married to him.

he’d find you at your job, fuck you into oblivion in the nearest bathroom before leaving like nothing happened. then it was date nights, music release nights, and every other night or day he felt the need to release his demons.

you felt almost bad when he called you and you didn’t answer. completely fucked out from the previous nights to even bother throwing on a skimpy skirt for him to ruin. he absolutely demolished the call button, furious with you not picking up. it made him angry that you were ignoring him. on that last call he left a nasty voicemail that you sat in disbelief listening to, over and over again until tears welled in your eyes.

when he came home that night you tossed a bag of toiletries at him, “since i’m such an easy fucking lay, go find someone else who will let you fuck them. you fucking bastard.”

of course with his athletic abilities he caught it with ease, shaking his head at you. “you are an easy fuck. glad i got my use out of you before you became fucking crazy.”

“i’m the crazy one but you see a shrink. get the fuck out, Christopher.” your palm shoved him right out the door he came through, slamming it hard in his face before turning and locking it. you knew he didn’t have his keys so you left him there, hanging and shouting incoherent curses at you.



A WEEK LATER

“yes? mrs. bahng, we have Christopher here in the hospital. he hurt himself pretty badly and he needs to be driven home. we had to stitch him up.” it was a friendly man that woke you up from your slumber, he introduced himself as Doctor. Kim. he even stayed on the phone with you, describing your husband’s injuries.

when you burst through the door of the emergency room, throwing yourself at the desk, chanting Christopher’s full government like a mantra until they gave you a room.

“Chris? Chris?!” pushing past the nurse on-call, you fell into the chair beside his bed, examining him throughly before you threw your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably.

“i—im okay, y/n. im okay.” you couldn’t even look him in his bloodshot, teary eyes. your palms smoothed up his cheeks, cupping them as you planted hot kisses all over his face. you pecked his lips over and over until he was crying again, begging you for forgiveness.

the nurse on standby watched awkwardly before leaving the room to attend to another patient.

“what did you do baby? what did you do?” you held his arm up, examining the large bandage that wrapped around his wrist. your eyebrows scrunched in painful disbelief at the thought of him hurting himself, but it wasn’t something he was opposed to.

Chan needed to get rid of the feelings, all the emotions that clogged his brain and made him feel inhuman.

“i did something stupid. but i want to be here y/n, i want to be with you.”

there you went cupping his face again, kissing his tear covered face before guiding his head into your chest where you coddled him like a child.

“i want you here, Channie. I want to be with you forever.”



FOUR WEEKS LATER

“welcome to our session Mrs. Bahng. i’m glad you decided to come in today. i’ve heard some good things about you.” Dr. Lee shook your hand and welcomed you to sit, you gracefully took the chair next to your husband who was smiling brightly at your decision to show up.

you decided it was best you also seen a therapist to better understand what Chan was going through. to offer him healthy ways to cope and understand better what was happening to him.

during the entire process you listened deeply to your husband speak, tell you things you had no idea was happening to him. he told you stories of growing up that traumatized him and stories of you both meeting that truly changed the trajectory of his life.

grabbing his hand you intertwined his fingers with your own, bringing his hand up to your mouth to kiss his skin gently.

“i love you, through thick and thin. i will always be here, no more running. either of us. got it?”

“i got it, Mrs. Bahng. until death do us part.”