#i mean. he probably had one at some point... it broke </3

[saddestsquid]

The Red Means I Love You ❤︎

Summary: Jason Todd x fem!Reader. You and Jason used to date before you left to stay with the Titans. You both miss each other more than you’d like to admit, but stay out of contact. Fast forward to after he died, you encounter Redhood. Old feeling stir, and before you know it you’re bent over the motorcycle of someone you swore you’d leave in the past.

Warnings: Angst -> smut, 18+, p in v, unprotected s$x, mentions of death & terrorism.

A/N: This takes place right after s3ep2, right after they find out Redhood’s identity :3

You didn’t fully know what was happening; just that there were too many hostages in the building—all who would be killed if not evacuated immediately. You were about to run and help the rest of the titans get everyone as far away as possible before Kory pulled you aside.

You went to protest before she quickly interrupted you, “Go search for Jason.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Uhm, what?”

“Look, I have a feeling he’ll listen to you better than anyone.” she said. “Jasons not someone who can be brought down by force. Shit, he came back from the fucking dead, you think he’s gonna let us beat this new…phase out of him?” 

You wanted to argue, but Kory wasn’t someone who was wrong often. She had a good point, and you knew you had to follow it.

“We’ve got this under control,” she assured, resting a reassuring but firm hand on your shoulder. “Go.”

You were skeptical, especially when you could see Gar in the distance shaking in his boots trying to convince an old lady to let him help her down the steps, and citizens clearly getting whiplash from Connor moving them to safety too fast. Your team was…definitely something, but with some hesitance you finally turned and ran in the direction of the one member you wanted to see.

…

“Jason!” You called out, your voice echoing through the barren alley. Gotham was creepy enough already without walking in some sketchy, busted up route in the pitch dark.

You kept calling but the only response you got was your own voice echoing back to you. You tried to scratch your mind for something to say that could persuade him, but you came up blank. Guilt ate at your conscience when you remembered that you hadn’t spoken to him for months before he died. 

To be honest, Jason never had anyone in his life to begin with. He told you that along with all his other secrets, and you still broke his heart. 

You stayed with the titans, thinking he was being naive for not wanting to. You didn’t think about the fact they never once tried to help him, or ever see him as more than an immature kid. They didn’t have the energy to help Jason through his issues so they just abandoned ship, sending him right back to Bruce and his horrible coping mechanisms.

As much as you wanted to be angry at Dick, or Kory or really anyone else for letting that happen, you had to face that you played your part.

Jason Todd died alone. He died feeling like no one would miss him, like he was a failure of a Robin and a failure of a titan. Because even after everything, all he wanted to do was prove himself.

So, yeah. Admittedly the first words you chose to say were not a good idea. Probably should’ve seen that one coming, but you never were too good at comforting him. was anyone?

“It didn’t have to be like this, you can still come back to the titans!” You tried to coax him, almost immediately regretting it. You quickly shut your mouth, tho the damage was already done. You just prayed he wasn’t here—he didn’t need to be provoked into blowing your brains out. 

Only when your muscles stopped tensing and you thought you got lucky, a voice you couldn’t even recognize rumbled above you. It shot ice up your veins and you would’ve frozen in place if you weren’t so adiment on seeing him again.

“Still taking about the titans? Why am I surprised.” He taunted, tilting his head in a gesture so familiar it made your heart ache. When you spun around you were met with someone you couldn’t believe was really Jason. He was standing on some rusted fire escape, a steel red mask boring right through you. 

You tensed, but not out of fear. No, you could never be scared of Jason, not the same nerd who woke up early to make you breakfast or who secretly wore reading glasses. 

You debated messaging him for months after your breakup, paragraphs on paragraphs you never sent. You had so much to say to him before, so why now did your mind go blank?

It was hard to see what he was feeling with the mask, but you could tell he was expecting a snarky remark back. When you just stood there dumbfounded, he sighed. “Look, I’m done trying to prove myself to them. To Bruce, to everyone! I don’t have to be some fucking nobody y/n, and neither do you.”

Now that made you snap out of whatever trance you were in. “‘and neither do you’? What are you trying to do, advertise me the life of crime?”

He groaned, “I don’t know why I ever tried with you. The titans are just a bunch of fucked up people acting like one big happy family, is that what you wanted? Are you happy you made that choice?” He sneered.

There was malice in his tone, but it wasn’t real. he didn’t feel angry anymore, just betrayed.

He would’ve splayed his heart out for you on a silver platter if you asked, just for you to turn your back on him. You followed him in his dreams, haunted him every time he smelt a familiar perfume, even appeared behind his shut eyelids while the life drained out of him. You were a part of him, and from what he knew you’d never looked back when you stormed out that day.

That’s why it shocked him when tears started to well in your eyes. God, your eyes—the ones he would subconsciously buy clothes of in the same colour. “You could’ve came with me,” you whispered. 

Your meek tone broke something in him. His shoulders relaxed and in a blink he leaped down, knees bending upon landing on the hard ground in front of you. Seeing him like this; the mask concealing his identity, various weapons strapped to his thighs and seemingly more toned than the last time you saw him—you could understand why everyone was on edge.

He stood there motionless, a silent and intimidating presence before you. You both stood there in unbearable silence until finally, he lifted his mask off.

His features were lit beautifully by the dim street light, eyes glinting ever so slightly. He looked exhausted—more troubled now, but you knew, despite everything, this was Jason. Your Jason, not who he was manipulated into.

“No, I couldn’t have.” he muttered begrudgingly, “they made that very clear.”

“So what, you just become a terrorist? Is that your idea of solving your problems?”

His fists clenched in barely concealed anger. “Bruce couldn’t save Gotham, so he abandoned it. I’ll be the one to fix it.” 

“By running around in a new suit and planting bombs everywhere? Real great strategy.” You rolled your eyes, but started to blush when you stared at him too long in the plated suit that fit him perfectly. You quickly caught yourself ogling and looked away, assuming he wouldn’t catch the red tinge on your face. 

You don’t know how you ever thought he wouldn’t notice. Of course he noticed, it’s Jason Todd.

For fucks sake, the guy noticed every detail about you. The way you’d avoid eye contact when nervous, the pace of your blinking quickening when you were lost in thought, the slight heighten of your voice when you were excited about something. All these tiny things and you thought he just wouldn’t notice the way you eyed him down all red in the face?

Come on, you were basically writing your true feelings out to him in big, bold… ..red letters…

and it’s not like Kory ever specified exactly what to do once you found him… .. .

So that’s how you ended up bent against his motorcycle in some busted up alleyway, pussy spread open on his dick.

You gasped and clawed pointlessly at his covered back; nails clinking uselessly against the metal armour of his suit. 

Your own suit was pulled off just enough to get access to your cunt, panties pulled to the side so he could plunge his thick cock into you.

He was groaning more than he used to, and you could swear you even heard him whine. His pace was ruthless, thrusts messy but coordinated. He kept trying to push further inside you, pressing his body as close to you as possible like you would vanish at any moment. 

“Fuckfuckfuck-“ he rambled. Death heightened all of his senses—made things have so much more of an impact on him. Maybe he just missed you too much, or maybe he let himself forget how good you feel.

To be fair, you were far worse off than him. You would’ve alerted everyone in Gotham if he wasn’t covering your mouth with a gloved hand, though it’s not like anyone here would bat an eye to screaming.

“My poor baby just been lonely, s’that it?”He teased, manhandling you by your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. 

“Nobody to fill up this pretty hole like I do, such a shame,” he pouted in faux sympathy, as if he wasn’t balls deep at the moment.

“I’m back now. Fuck the titans, I’ve always treated you better, haven’t I?” He’s fucking your ability to form coherent words right out of your throat, but he knows your answer when you squeeze around him.

“Jay!” you moaned into his palm. Your cunt was squelching embarrassingly loud with each thrust, thighs shaking so hard you for sure would’ve fallen over if he wasn’t holding you up. Every drag of his cock in you hit the perfect spots, just like he remembered you love.

“You don’t even care that I’m red hood, do you?” he asked, his tone full of confidence. “Nah, you don’t. So fucking wet, does my suit get you off princess?” 

He moved his hand to play with your clit, getting it soaked with your fluids. You were too cock-drunk to lie bite back, just nodding desperately and mewling out something akin to a yes.

He smirked. “Pussys sucking me in the same too, fuck- I missed this. I missed you.”

He acted cocky when he was fucking you like this because it’s the only way he was sure you even wanted to be around him. Not much to complain about when his big dick is ravaging you, no?

Deep down he always felt right at home with you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he would give up red hood for you. He’d give up anything for you, actually. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him. And he wasn’t letting you go this time.

With the ministrations on your clit and him pounding into you, it wasn’t a surprise when that knot in your stomach came undone quickly. Especially not with how many failed orgasms you had with your fingers, pretending it was him.

Ever attentive, he noticed immediately. “You gonna come, baby? Try not to get any on the new suit.” He winked, as if you were gonna squirt for him. (You have, many times.)

The cherry on top was when he unexpectedly flipped his mask back down and leaned in to whisper right into your ear with that deep voice, “come for me”

And you were gone. You came with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and toes curling. Your pussy gushed all over his dick, forming a white ring around it that you could see every time he slammed his hips.

Seeing your pretty face so euphoric was what sent him over the edge, and grudgingly he pulled out, pearly white cum shooting all over your stomach.

You spent a minute regaining your breath while he pressed gentle kisses all over your throat. He only let up when you whined at the slight pain of the pressure on your newly forming hickeys. He tucked himself back into his pants and re-adjusted his belt. You were wondering if he planned on just leaving until he took his coat off and wrapped it around you.

He moved you so you were set down properly on the back of his motorcycle and then stepped on. You instinctively laid against his back, resting your head on his shoulder and he admired you with pure adoration.

“Wrap your arms around me babe,” he hummed, affectionately rubbing your thigh that was pressed to his.

When your brain finally caught up to what was happening you gave him a confused look.“Wha- wait! Where are we going?” 

He looked at you like you were crazy for even questioning it. “Home,” he laughed, “what? Did you think death was gonna do us part, baby?”

[thealternateuniverse]

A Misunderstanding

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

-------

Y/N shut out the world by putting her headphones on, music blaring, as she walked towards the cafeteria with good spirits. Her weekend had been well spent after decluttering her apartment. Her dad had left her a message last night, informing her that he would be out of town but would return before their match against Iowa.

For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about the Paranoia game from last time and how Paige had just revealed she was into Hannah Jump. Hannah was her teammate back in Stanford, and Y/N admitted, aside from being talented on the court, she was good in academics and... really pretty. It was itching her to know if Paige would pursue Hannah or not; after all, she had just admitted she liked her. Paige might appear as the fuckboy type among their lot but she might be the most decent one when it comes to relationship. She never pursued anyone ,yet, probably some flirtations but never to the point of dating. Her world seems to revolve only in basketball. Regardless, it is not her business.

She opened TikTok last night, only to be blasted by Paige Bueckers edits in her feed. The algorithm must have been playing some kind of joke on her, she thought, feeling a mix of amusement and irritation at the coincidence.

Shrugging off the thought, Y/N lazily slipped her hands into her hoodie's pocket and ambled towards her destination. Her train of thoughts got cut off when she almost stumbled, feeling a weight on her back that nearly sent her crashing to the ground.

"The fuck b— What the hell Paige Bueckers!"

Y/N exclaimed, cursing every inch of Paige's being as she struggled to regain her balance while supporting Paige's weight.

Paige, seemingly unfazed by the near disaster she caused, had the audacity to laugh.

"You nearly broke my back, Paige! I could've broken your face too!"

Y/N protested for the last time, yet still allowed Paige to remain on her back.

"Damn right, you're heavy," Y/N grunted under Paige's weight. It seemed she had no intention of getting off anytime soon. Despite being almost the same height, Paige had bulked up since her ACL recovery.

"Suck it up, Miller. Don't be a loser," Paige encouraged, oblivious to Y/N's struggle.

"Yeah, and you'll be the loser if I drop you here." she bit back a response.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, Y/N was already sweating, carrying Paige acting as a warm-up.

She hadn't actually seen Paige face-to-face yet, so when she dropped her off, she almost stuttered. Paige's hair wasn't tied up today, and she was only wearing her sleeveless compression top, which fit her perfectly, sticking it to the right places.

"Hey, Miller. I know I look good; stop ogling," Paige called out with a playful airiness, teasing Y/N as she caught her glance.

Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to conceal her embarrassment from being caught gawking.

"No braids today?" she asked before Paige could further boost her ego.

"Kayla is out of town, so..." Paige shrugged. "You can braid it later before practice."

"Yeah, and make sure you took a shower today; I don't want some greasy hair," Y/N quipped with a playful smirk.

Paige feigned being hurt, putting both her hands on her chest in mock offense.

"You're so mean, dude. You don't know what some people are going through," Paige said, shaking her head while placing her hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"You're so dramatic. Now if you'll get out of my way please, I am hungry." Y/N retorted with a chuckle, nudging Paige playfully.

Paige stepped aside, allowing Y/N to pass, and followed after.

Y/N couldn't help but notice something different about Paige today; she seems to be perky.

"What's gotten into you today, Paige?" Y/N stopped and turned to confront Paige. The latter merely bestowed onto her a deep grin that extended to her eyes.

"Nothing, why? Is it a crime to be in a good mood?" Paige remarked, rolling her shoulders, a clear indication of her upbeat demeanor.

Y/N shook her head in disbelief but decided to let it go, opting instead to grab her breakfast.

-------

"Stay put, Paige Madison, you're gonna ruin my braids," Y/N insisted, gently placing her hand on Paige's shoulder to keep her still while she worked on her hair.

"What's taking you so long? Kayla does it quickly," Paige complained.

In truth, Y/N was deliberately taking her time. She needed to steady her hands, unsure why they were shaking. After all, she'd done this countless times before. But being so close to Paige felt different, almost unfamiliar. And Paige's hair, soft and smelling of peppermint, tempted her to linger, to breathe in the scent and savor the moment.

"There, finally done."

Taking one last satisfied look, Y/N released Paige. "There, all done," she announced proudly. This time, she'd opted for a Dutch braid, a departure from Paige's usual signature hairstyle.

"Thanks, but I'm still the best," Paige quipped with a playful grin

"Oh, really? Care to make a bet?" Y/N challenged, a mischievous glint in her eye.

---------------------

The team's lounge was unusually quiet following practice. The girls taking the opportunity to catch up on sleep after the exhausting training session.

Meanwhile, Y/N sat on the edge of her seat, nervously tapping her foot as she debated whether to open it or not. She found herself repeatedly switching it on and off, unable to make up her mind.

Cameron's message had left Y/N in a dilemma. Eventually, she rose to pack her things and switched off her phone. As she moved, she suddenly halted, blinking as the vision in her left eye began to blur. Panic welled up as she feared she might pass out. She turned around to her left, unaware of Paige, who had just emerged from the shower. Their heads collided.

"What the heck! Are you blind or something, dawg?" Paige exclaimed, rubbing the spot where they had collided.

"Oh yeah? And today I discovered just how thick your skull is," Y/N retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"But seriously, are you okay?" Paige asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, actually, I am blind. I didn't see you," Y/N admitted.

"Probably because your contact lens is off," Paige suggested, seeing the uneven eye color. Her left green and right hazel.

"Oh," Y/N replied, mentally chastising herself for forgetting her own condition.

"Here, let me help you. Stay put," Paige said as she draped her towel over a chair and gently guided Y/N's head with her hands to assist in fixing her contact lens.

"How am I supposed to know you're not going to poke m--"

"Quiet, almost done," Paige interrupted, her tone firm but reassuring.

As Paige worked, the room seemed to grow warmer. It was the second time they had been this close outside of the court, and Y/N found herself uncomfortable with her blurry vision, unable to clearly see Paige's features up close. Yet, paradoxically, she also found solace in the blurred lines, grateful that she wouldn't have to dwell on the details of their encounters today.

"There, done," Paige announced, and Y/N blinked, relieved to find her vision clear once more.

"T-thanks," Y/N stuttered, clearing her throat. Their eyes locked for a moment, but before the intensity could linger, Y/N was the first to break the contact.

"U-uh, I'll just pack my things," she mumbled, trying to ease the sudden tension.

"Y-yeah, you should," Paige replied awkwardly, her own discomfort evident in her voice.

---------

Unbelievable, Y/N let out an exasperated sigh as her car refused to start. Of all the days and weather conditions, why did it have to happen now? How was she supposed to get home in this rain?

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, leaning her head against the steering wheel. The parking lot seemed endless, and she knew she'd be soaked by the time she reached the bus stop for her commute home.

She opened her phone, fingers tapping out a message in their group chat, hoping someone was still around in their class or lingering in the parking lot who could give her a ride home.

Upon sending the message, Paige was quick to reply, mentioning she had just gotten into her car and would swing by to pick Y/N up.

It was the third time Paige had come to her rescue, and it seemed like she always appeared at just the right moment.

Paige's Camry pulled up alongside Y/N's car, and she swiftly gathered her belongings before stepping out and securing her vehicle. She dashed toward Paige's car, a brisk pace driven by both the biting cold and her aversion to getting wet.

"Thanks, Bueckers," she muttered gratefully as she settled into the passenger seat, closing the door behind her.

"Anytime, Miller. What would you do without me?" Paige quipped, exuding confidence and earning an eye roll from Y/N.

As they merged into traffic, Waka Flocka's music blared from Paige's stereo.

"I need to swing by Walmart first; I'm running low on groceries. Hope you don't mind," Paige added, breaking the rhythm of the music-filled silence.

Y/N nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I can grab some for myself as well."

The rain had somehow mellowed by the time they arrived at Walmart. The two of them dashed into the store, snagging a cart and launching into their grocery run.

Paige peered into Y/N's meticulously organized cart, filled with salad ingredients and chicken, devoid of any junk food.

"How are you even full just eating that?" Paige teased, gesturing towards Y/N's cart.

Y/N glanced over at Paige's cart, which seemed more like a haul than a grocery run, stocked with proteins, organic chips, and various meats. It was clear Paige was focused solely on food items.

"Duh. Do I look like I have time to cook?" Y/n retorted with a smirk, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Paige raised both hands in surrender. "Alright. For an athlete, you sure eat less."

Y/N, who had been chubby back in grade school due to her big bones, had made a conscious effort to monitor her weight when she got into basketball.

"I've got big bones. Plus, I was fat back in grade school. I easily gain weight, so I have to watch what I eat," Y/N explained.

Paige's curiosity piqued at the mention of Y/N's childhood appearance, but she merely mouthed an 'oh,' holding back her questions for the moment.

When they finished their grocery shopping, the two of them struggled on their way back to the parking lot, battling against the persistent rain. They did their best to shield the bags from getting wet, navigating through the downpour with determination.

Besides her earlier dilemma about Cameron's text, she finds herself faced with a new one. First, she struggles with the task of carrying the grocery bags up to her apartment alone, as she already has her gym bag filled with basketball gear. Second, she hesitates to ask Paige for help, knowing how much Paige has already done for her today. She waits until they arrive at her apartment before finally mustering the courage to speak up.

"Um, Paige, there's one more thing. I really need your help carrying these groceries," she stammers, nodding towards the backseat where the bags are piled.

"No problem at all, Miller. I've got you," Paige responds with a thumbs up and a playful wink.

"Thanks. I owe you big time for all your help today."

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes every time Paige proudly exclaimed, "What would you do without me?"

In the elevator, she nudged Paige to keep her quiet as Paige continued to prattle on about her indispensable role in Y/N's life.

A sense of panic washed over Y/N when she noticed her door was unlocked. Only she and her dad knew the passcode.

Upon entering her apartment, she was greeted by Cameron sitting comfortably in her living room.

"Hi," Cameron greeted awkwardly.

"Who let you in?" Y/N asked, attempting to hide her annoyance, though it came out with a grit.

"I, uh... asked your dad," Cameron replied nervously.

Y/N felt her jaw clench.

"You can—"

"The heck, bro, why are you standing there like a post or something?" Paige barged in, not noticing Cameron at first, as she followed behind Y/N.

"Sorry about that. Hey, let's drop off these groceries and grab some lunch at your place, yeah?" Y/N suggested.

Paige gave Y/N a confused look, not catching on until she noticed Cameron. Y/N glared at her, silently conveying a "play along or else" message.

Paige, on the other hand, finds herself uncertain of what to do. She holds Y/N's groceries, her gaze shifting between Y/N and Cameron, feeling like an inadvertent intruder.

"U-uh, w-well, yeah, sure," she awkwardly responds, inching towards the kitchen to set down the groceries. The palpable tension between Y/N and Cameron doesn't escape her notice.

"H-hi, Cameron," she offers as she passes by, to which Cameron responds with a polite smile. "Sorry, I must have interrupted your plans today," Cameron apologizes.

"It's fine. No problem. I'll just… yeah, groceries," Paige gestures towards the kitchen, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

She retreats to the kitchen, giving the two space to talk.

"I'm sorry for coming here with short notice. I thought you read my texts," Cameron explains.

"I am busy. I don't have time to be on my phone all day," Y/N replies tersely.

Paige wonders how she ended up in this situation, feeling more like the one interrupting rather than Cameron.

"W-well, I am staying at a hotel. Let me know when you are free," Cameron offers tentatively.

"I have no free time. I have an upcoming match, so feel free to go back to California anytime," Y/N says casually.

"Y/N…" Cameron trails off, at a loss for words. With a sigh, she continues, "Alright, let me know when you are ready to talk to me. I'll be leaving."

Cameron gathers her things and departs. What the heck just happened?

Paige returns to the living room to find Y/N standing there, visibly distressed after Cameron's departure.

"Well… what the hell just happened?" Paige asks, trying to make sense of the tension.

Y/N sighs heavily. "Long story. I really don't have the energy to deal with her," she says, shaking her head in frustration.

"Do you still want to go grab lunch?" Paige offers, hoping to lighten the mood.

Y/N's head shoots up, her eyes lighting up at the mention of food.

"I think so. I am hungry," she admits, a small smile forming on her lips.

"Well, don't expect salad. I won't feed you that kind of crap," Paige quips, injecting a bit of humor into the conversation. ---------

They found themselves in a brief argument over whether to cook or dine out, but in the end, Paige's preference for eating out won.

Paige wasn't joking when she said she wouldn't subject Y/N to just salad. She orders some chicken wings for her, reasoning that it's just for one day, and Y/N can return to her original diet afterward.

"Well, we're fucked," Paige muttered, her ears growing warmer and eyes a mix of amusement and concern.

Y/N's brows creased, curious about Paige's comment. Her annoyance grew as her phone buzzed again. Opening it, she was bombarded with Instagram and TikTok notifications, causing color to drain from her face in realization.

"What the hell? They took this angle wrong in all ways. Do we look like we're kissing?" Y/N exclaimed, her voice unintentionally carrying across the restaurant. The heads of other diners turned towards their table, causing Y/N to bow her head slightly in embarrassment.

Paige, now red-faced, looked away, feeling the weight of the situation.

"Who the hell even took this clip?" Y/N continued, her annoyance evident.

It became clear that the video was taken earlier when Y/N's contact lens fell out, and Paige was helping her. The angle made it appear as if they were kissing, with Paige's back and her hands on Y/N's face.

"That's kind of awkward. It really does look like a compromising angle," Paige added, trying to diffuse the tension.

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. "I didn't know there's actually malice in helping people now."

"Let them think what they want to think. It's not like it's any of their business," Paige declared, trying to brush off the situation with a nonchalant attitude. When in truth, her heart is almost thumping out of her chest.

"Alright, for the sake of my peace of mind," Y/N said with a resigned sigh.

Just then, one of Y/N's block mates, Miller, spotted them from across the restaurant. "Yo, Miller. What are you two doing here? Are you like having some lover's quarrel?" he called out, his tone teasing.

Annoyed, Y/N grabbed Paige's arm and hastily fled from the scene, wanting to escape the embarrassment.

Paige couldn't help but overhear what Y/N's blockmate said. "Holy shit, it wasn't a no. They were really dating," he exclaimed to his friends.

Paige's heart sank as the reality of the situation sank in. "Now we're really doomed," she muttered under her breath, realizing the potential fallout from the misunderstanding.

[anyarose011]

Too Late To Turn Back Now {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: A dislocated shoulder, an insult to end all men, a few lies, going out to eat, and an unwanted revelation about Angus Tully. What a perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve-Eve.

Part 4 of ?? (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of arm injury, mentions of underage drinking, minor harassment, and discussion of cancer.

This was one of the more lighthearted and fun as hell chapters to write, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 5.0k

Apparently, Angus Tully had gone on another adventure without you. One probably shouldn’t call it an adventure if he went to the chapel, and merely stared at the photo of your dead friend for hours on end.

“Do you think he was praying?” You asked Mary after she told you that while you were helping her make lunch.

“I think he’s just as religious as you.”

You scoffed. “He’d never become a priest.”

“You’d make a lousy nun.”

“I’d be a fun one.”

Once the four of you sat down to eat, your father tried to give you cookies you knew for a fact were given to you by Miss Crane. You also knew they were a week old at this point. Still, to spare your father’s feelings, you broke off a piece. You then put it in your mouth, nodding with a smile before bringing your napkin to your lips as if to clean them, when really you just spat the cookie into it.

Immediately, Angus asked to go to the bathroom, and you knew he wasn’t doing that, but you couldn’t blame him.

“I’m trying.” Your father shrugged, and all you and Mary could do was laugh.

You helped her was the dishes after that, and went back out to the dining hall, still seeing your dad sitting at the same table, alone.

“Everything alright?” You asked.

“Yes, just waiting on Mr. Tully.”

“You honestly can’t force him to learn today.” You scoffed, leaning against one of the chairs. “It’s Christmas Eve-Eve.”

“You always had lessons on Christmas Eve-Eve, and you didn’t complain.”

“I did.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Several times.”

He sighed. “I’ll let him out early by an hour; if you attend as well.”

“Never mind, let him rot.”

“I thought so.” He got up from his chair. “Where on God’s green earth is that boy?”

You watched him leave through the doors Angus took ten minutes ago, and as you were about to go into the kitchen to (lovingly) bother Mary some more, you heard shouting. Now of course, you were (and still are) a nosey bitch, so you had no choice but to also go through the doors leading out into the hallway. You heard Angus first.

“There’s nobody here, okay? Just us two losers, a grieving mom, and your-.”

His face and words fell once he saw you enter, and your father turned to see you standing in the doorframe, looking as if you wandered into something you shouldn’t have. Then, you threw on the attitude.

“What am I now?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

“Oh, wow!” You began with fake enthusiasm.

“I didn’t mean-.”

“-No, no of course you didn’t.”

Your father stepped in. “That’s enough from the both of you. Mr. Tully, I can forgive you for using the phone without permission if-.”

“-If what?” He interrupted. “No, let’s cut the shit: You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”

Of course, your father had detention slips in his back pocket, and of course he threw one up. “That’s a detention.”

Angus pushed past him, groaning and walking fast down the hall. You pursed your lips. “You really showed him.”

“Stuff it, Lady Macbeth.” He scolded, then called Angus. “You just earned yourself a detention, sir. Now, get back here!”

Angus looked back. “Being here with you is already one big fucking detention!”

“Son of a bitch, that’s another detention!”

In response, Angus knocked over a trash can, which caused your father to run like you’d never seen him run before. You should be ashamed that your first instinct was to laugh, but you weren’t and you still aren’t.

You should also have felt like a fool for deciding to run after them as if it were a game. Again, you didn’t feel like one then, and if you were to do it again as an old woman, you would in a heartbeat.

You saw as Angus tore off posters from the wall and would stop at corners just to taunt your father. Then, after running around more than half the school (you had no idea how much honestly, but it was enough for you), you stopped outside of the gym with the both of them. Even with Angus’s back turned, you knew he was contemplating the unthinkable.

“Don’t you even think about it, Mr. Tully.” Your father warned, panting from running. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you, you hear me? Wash my hands.” Angus ignored him, stepping into the gym.

You followed your father as he kept going. “Stop right there, you know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon.”

Angus took one look at the gym equipment, then back to the two of you. “Alea jacta est.”

He winked at you before springing towards the trampoline, bouncing off of it and over the balance beam. When his body landed with a hard ‘thud!’, you and your father were stricken with tense silence.

Which was then broken when an inhuman scream ripped from Angus’ throat.

Still, as your father looked on in horror, you said (being completely unbothered). “He’s faking it.”

When his screams didn’t subside, and you only heard them grow louder and he threw in more explicate language, your smile fell. It was when he got to his knees did you see how mangled his right arm looked, and you felt like you were going to throw up.

Angus Tully was one step ahead of you in that department, and that’s all we should say about that (not that he nearly puked on you; if anyone ever says that, they’re lying and should be shot on sight).

So, that was how, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve-Eve, you came to be standing outside of your father’s shitty 1964 Nova. You and Angus, who was crying while wearing half of his jacket, were shivering violently, waiting for your father to scrape off the car.

“Hurry up!” Both you and him would beg.

“I am hurrying!” Would be your father’s only response, and you saw his face grow redder every time either of you would yell.

Luckily, he managed to (somehow) scrape it all off and you three piled into the car. Even though you were going to anyway, you father insisted you sit in the front (more than likely because he knew you and Angus would probably try to kill each other in a high tense situation, and who would’ve figured he was right).

“I was on thin ice already.” Your father panicked at you as he stepped on the gas to the hospital. “If Woodrup finds out, the facts won’t matter, he’ll make it my fault.”

“It is your fault!” Angus cried from the back of the car, trying to hold his mangled arm up. “You were supposed to be looking after me!”

“I told you to stop!”

“You said you washed your hands of me!”

“No, I meant it metaphorically!”

“Of course you meant it metaphorically. What were you gonna do, actually go and wash your hands?!”

Your father turned back to the road. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, I said I will wash my hands, never once did I say it in the present tense!”

“I don’t know, Pontius Pilate.” You shrugged. “This Jesus guy makes a good point.”

When he hissed your real name, you nearly shrank into your seat. “I don’t need any more of this from you. You were the one to tell me he was faking it anyway!”

“You said that?!” Angus yelled. “Jesus, I knew you hated all men.”

“Not true.” You turned around to look at him. “I would’ve said the exact same thing about a woman, especially if I heard her screaming from your room!”

Out of all the times you made a man cry and left him speechless, this one was and forever will be your favorite (obviously he was crying from his arm, but you liked to think your comment also did that). Your father scolded you for your foul mouth, but it was 100% worth it.

There you three sat in the emergency room, waiting for over an hour for a nurse to let you in, when your father started monologuing to himself.

“This is the end. They’ll inform the school, who will inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You’re gonna get me fired; you.” He looked at Angus, then you. “I hope you like sleeping in the snow, Josephine.”

“I love it more than life itself.” You rolled your eyes.

Angus grumbled. “I’m the one about to lose an arm and all you can think about is yourself.”

“Hey, he was worried about me.” You pointed out.

He turned and glared at you, and you actually felt bad for the first time that day.

A nurse soon approached you, handing your father a clipboard and pen. “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”

Your father, hesitantly, begins to fill it out. It sounded like a joke at first, having to sleep somewhere else, but honestly what were you going to do? You and your father lived in the faculty housing ever since-.

“-Excuse me?” Angus asked the nurse as she was walking away. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”

“It’s just standard procedure.”

“I understand. But look, we were over at Squantz pond playing hockey, and I slipped on the ice.”

Your father whispered. “Angus, what are you doing?”

But he kept going, glancing at you for a moment. “Our mom told him not to take us, but I made him. Our folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”

The nurse still didn’t let up. “Okay, that’s your business. But we just have certain protocols.”

“Yeah, protocols.” Your father tried to warn.

Angus didn’t listen to either. “Please, we ever get to see my dad. It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He looked at you. “We can’t have her dragging him to court again.”

You shook your head, swallowing a pretend lump in your throat. “No. Last time was…oh god.”

He looked back at the nurse.  “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”

What a sucker; it took you and Angus to do ‘Kicked Puppy” eyes for a minute, and she was brining the three of you in to the see the doctor in three.

When they were removing his shirt, they told him first look away from the arm, but they didn’t inform you.

“Is it that bad?” He asked upon hearing your audible disgust.

“Not the worst thing I’ve seen in a hospital.”

Your father slugged you, but not hard enough for it to hurt. Still, the whole thing was a blur as they popped Angus’ arm back into its socket. It was dislocated, not broken, and a part of you selfishly wish that it had been just to spare you from the disgusting noises. That and also Angus’s screaming, as if you hadn’t been objectified to that enough.

The three of you were leaving after Angus' arm was tied in a sling, when your father spoke up.

“Barton men don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Angus asked, readjusting his sling.

“Well, I had momentum.”

“Mhm,” he looked at you. “what’s your excuse?”

You shrugged. “I don’t go to Barton, and I’m not a man. Thank God, by the way, considering I hate all of them.”

Even though you said that sarcastically, neither of the men said you were wrong.

When you three made it to the pharmacy, and your father handed over the prescription, the pharmacist went to search for it. Angus lowered his voice, saying to your dad.

“You said that if Woodrup finds out, you and her screwed. So now he won’t find out.”

“What if your parents ask?” You questioned.

“Never going to happen. Trust me.”

Your father raised his brows. “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”

“Oui, monsieur.” He smirked “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Your father gasped. “Do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”

“All I’m looking for is little thank you that I did something nice for you. That’s all.”

You shrugged, deciding you wanted a treat too. “It is Christmas Eve-Eve.”

Your father took you all out to ‘The Winning Ticket’; the classiest tavern within 50 miles. Classy being the less dingy, place in Barton. As your father and ‘Friend of Some Sort’ had a minor debate on underage drinking, you saw the last waitress you wanted approach.

“Miss Crane, as I live and breathe.” Your father sounded amazed as if he saw Aphrodite herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi guys!” She laughed “Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Well uh,” he gestured to Angus. “This is Mr. Tully.” Then to you beside him. “And this is-you already know my daughter.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “quite well. My niece knows her too if you can believe that.”

He laughed a little louder than he should have, and you wanted to crawl under the table and bang your head against the metal support until you split your skull open.

“Oh, and sure, I know you.” Miss Crane nodded to Angus.

“Angus Tully,” he smiled. “we met outside of Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

“Well, I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part. I just know that miss Hunham talks a lot about you when she visits.”

Aaand now you wanted to just take any of the silverware off the table (even the spoon would work) and stab yourself.

“Does she?” He teased.

You were quick with a comeback. “About how ridiculously annoying you are. I was baking cookies and Elise nearly crawled into the oven because the things I said about you were just too horrible for her to hear.”

“Now be nice.” Your father said.

“When have I never?”

The three of you ordered (after another discussion about alcohol and underage drinking with Miss Crane this time), and it did not escape you or Angus how your father’s eyes were still on her even after she left.

“Ouch,” Angus smiled. “you two have chemistry.”

“That’s the Percodan talking.” Your father pointed out.

“I don’t know, seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive.”

You gagged, not even having the will to come up with a good comeback, you were so disgusted. Thankfully, your father had one.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

You never gave it much thought; your father dating women after your mother died. He just never truly seemed that interested in anyone, and he said it himself, he never goes out. Still…while you do want him to be happy, the woman of interest is your best friend’s aunt-.

Angus pursed his lips. “May I at least go to the bathroom? Sir? “

“You mean the payphone?” Even when he saw Angus’ eyes darken, your father still was not stirred. “Jo March, accompany him, please.”

You sighed. “Why do I have to be his keeper?”

“Because I, Pontius Pilate, washed my hands of him, remember?”

With that being said, you walked with Angus over to the bathrooms, and waited outside with your arms crossed like a child being punished. After a few minutes, he came back out, and the first thing you asked was.

“How’d you lie so easily?”

He gave you a look. “When?”

“The hospital.” You clarified. “You came up with a whole story on the spot that was so convincing, you had a nurse wrapped around your finger within a minute.”

Angus shrugged, beginning to walk away. “You were honestly the icing on the cake.”

“Oh, thank you.” You spoke with sarcasm, following him. “But honestly, you-.”

“-Are you any good at pinball?”

Okay mister ‘Trying to Change the Subject’, you’d play this game (literally and figuratively). “Yeah, I think so.”

He grabbed two dimes from his pocket. “Wanna bet?”

“I guarantee you that’s all the money you have, so there’s nothing to bet.”

“Not exactly.” You both wandered over to the machines. “If I win, you owe me something, and vice versa.”

“And if I wanted you to get out of my life?”

“Done and done, but only If you win, which you won’t.” He put the dimes on top of the machine a guy was playing on.

“Sorry, kid. Next game’s taken.” The many said.

Angus furrowed his brow. “But I just put some dimes down.”

“Don’t care. My buddy’s up next.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works in here. Why don’t you go shoot the other fuckin’ machine?”

“Because I don’t want to shoot the other fuckin’ machine.”

You put your hand on his non-injured arm. “Angus, it’s fine.”

Before he could retaliate, the man lost the game, sighing. “Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo. Kenny! You’re up.”

“Bullshit.” Angus shook his head. “I put my dimes down, so we’re up next.”

“What was that?” You both looked and saw ‘Kenny’, a drunk man with a hook for his right hand. Shit… “Hey, kiddies,” he snapped his fingers at the both of you. “my eyes are up here.”

His friend snorted. “Look at these fucking kids; spoiled little Barton boy and his prissy girlfriend.”

Not the first nor the last time you were a smartass to a man where it will almost get you killed. “I’ll have you know, gentlemen, he is not my boyfriend; he is the reason I hope every day I become an only child.”

“You know what?” Angus stepped in before Kenny could respond. “You can just take my dime.”

“Take it?” He taunted. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”

“No, what I mean is, we could play together.” and let this be known that Angus Tully was not always great at thinking on his feet. “Yeah, you could be my left arm.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?!”

Flinching at his tone, you decided to actually use your brain, for once. “Oh my gosh, I think I hear Dad calling us.” You took Angus’ hand without thinking. “Come on Fitzwilliam, you fucked everything up as always.”

You didn’t care that two, pissed off men were following and yelling at you, you didn’t even care that you were holding Angus’ Tully’s hand and having him trip over his own feet as you pulled him back to your table, you just needed to get out of there.

“Papa,” you call out to your father. “can we go please?”

He hummed at your arrival (and the term of endearment, which you only use if something has gone array).  “Why?”

“Our favorite asshole got us in trouble.”

“Hey!” Kenny shouted at you and Angus. “Why’d you run off? We were just talking to you. Do they teach you manners at that school?”

Hook for hand be damned, your fight or flight instincts kicked in when he put his hand on Angus and you were about to be the reason he’d lose it. Then, Miss Crane stepped in.

“Kenneth, leave them alone, they just came in for some food.”

Still, he looked like he was about to charge the both of you.

Your father stepped in next. “Kenneth, is that right? I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you. It’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentlemen something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”

“The what?” The first guy playing pinball asked.

“The dodo,” Angus said. “it’s an extinct bird.”

“What he’s trying to say is,” Miss Crane translated. “he wants to buy you guys a beer.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to consider it. Kenny nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Same here.” His friend agreed. “I’ll have a Miller.”

“The champagne of beers.” Angus smiled, nodding.

It was when everything final cooled down, and as the two men and Miss Crane left to get their drinks, did you notice you were still holding Angus’ hand. Which you let go of as if you were holding fire in the palm of your hand.

He went back to his moody self after that, as you were walking back to the car after finishing dinner (no connection of course).

“Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

Your father shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it. Here, catch.”

He tossed him the keys, which he caught. Your father continued his lecture, walking ahead of both of you.  “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

Angus glanced at you. “Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.” Your father repeated his words when they stood outside the car.

“Were you ever in the military?”

“Yes, I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected-I have to get in over there.” He said after failing to open the door on the driver’s side. He walked over to the passenger’s (which you begrudgingly allowed Angus to have this time) side that Angus unlocked. “They made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

You opened the back door and slid into the seats, but Angus stayed outside, asking. “Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

Your father already was used to that question from you, so he didn’t even look scared when he hummed his approval.

“You smell.” He got into the car. “And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

He didn’t even wait for his response before rolling the window down anyway. Before you could say something snarky to defend your father, he spoke first. “Trimethylaminuria.”

Angus furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Trimethylaminuria.” He repeated. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.”

“Wow…your whole life?”

Your father nodded.

“No wonder you’re afraid of women.” Angus said your name, glancing back at you. “How did he marry your mom?”

Your jaw dropped, and only inaudible noises came out at first before you settled on. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“For the record,” Your dad interrupted, stunned. “I am not afraid of women, and you shouldn’t be asking a girl personal questions after insulting her father. Jesus.”

Angus nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Getler says I should give more consideration to my audience.”

“Who’s Dr. Getler?” You asked.

“My shrink.”

Your father decided to jump in. “Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good swift kick in the ass?

He scoffed. “Okay, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure, just one thing.”

“Just one?” You and your father questioned.

He nodded, preparing for the absolute worst, but it never came. Your father merely turned back to the front, started the car, and began to make the long drive back to Barton. You weren’t even out of the neighborhood when Angus then asked.

“Fitzwilliam?” He looked at you. “What kind of name is that?”

Your father snickered. “That’s what you called him?”

You shrugged. “The guys thought he was a stuck-up rich boy, but he’s really awkward and looks like he wants to kill himself every time someone looks at him, I had to.”

“He strikes me more as a Hamlet.”

To anyone who didn’t know anything about Shakespeare, that would be a compliment. To you and your father specifically, it made you laugh. Of course Angus Tully would be one of the most overdramatic characters in theatre.

“Seriously,” the boy in question said tiredly. “who the hell is Fitzwilliam?”

Your father shook his head. “My advice, Mr. Tully? Brush up on the classics; Pride and Prejudice would be a good place to start.”

None of you had the strength to do much more that night besides spending time in your rooms before bed. It was as you were a few chapters into Little Women, did you wonder.

“Why were you and my dad yelling at each other this afternoon?”

Angus looked up from his copy of Popular Mechanics to see you in the doorway once you asked that question. You both were both just wearing your pajamas and socks; outfits you had only seen each other in for either a short number of times, in dimmed lighting, or with jackets over.

It felt different this time…stranger, even.

“Hello to you too.” He greeted, setting the magazine down.

“Well?”

Pursing his lips, he didn’t look at you at first before saying. “I was calling a hotel.”

“Your mom’s?”

“No, one in Boston.”

“Why would you…?” The look on his face said it all. That look of regret and pity that you didn’t understand what he meant right away. “Oh…”

You wanted nothing more than to have said it with disgust, but it was disappointment that laced the word. Then, with a mix of anger and even hurt.

“Am I that insufferable to be around?”

He shot his head up. “What? No.”

“Seems like it.” You scoffed, beginning to pace around the room. “What happened to ‘Friends of some sort’? I asked you if we were fine because I felt like you’d gone quiet, and you said we were. I get it; you asked me to tell you the craziest thing that happened to me, and I should’ve just said ‘I got slightly drunk at a party’, not everything. You barely tell me anything about yourself, and then I just go and throw out the shittiest things that have happened to me. It’s not fair, and I’m sorry-.”

“-My father’s dead.”

Nothing could’ve gotten you to shut up faster.

It caused you such a shock, that you sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him. His gaze changed in a matter of seconds; when he first told you and you looked at him, you’d never seen anyone surer. Then, as shock settled into you, discomfort did for him. You let the quietness between you linger for a moment, terrified of your own response.

“I…I had a feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were expecting him to immediately respond, but he didn’t. You debated on just sitting in the silence, or crawling back into your room and pretending this didn’t happen, when Angus finally spoke up.

“I was thirteen, he was…really, really sick for some time but then it just happened so fast and…I don’t really like talking about it, I’m sorry-.”

“-No, I shouldn’t have pressured you-.” You relented first, and ff the circumstances weren’t bleak, it would be funny how you both spoke over each other.

“-You weren’t, you told me something about yourself and I should’ve-.”

“-You aren’t in debt or some bullshit to share anything with me-.”

“-I just haven’t really told people that before-.”

“-Your arm wasn’t the worst thing I saw in a hospital.” You decided to break the loop, and it was successful. “My mother was sick too and…” You chuckled, but felt tears prick your eyes all of a sudden at the thought. “God, she’ll haunt me for this, but she was so skinny the last time I saw her…Cancer. She and my dad were debating on if I should see her like that before she goes, and I won the argument in the end that, yes, I needed to say goodbye. I’m glad I did, no, that’s not what I think of when I think of her but…it scared me. I was eleven.”

He nodded, listening without interruption; a skill that seemed he only acquired during these small moments of vulnerability. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself vulnerable; you were merely answering his questions truthfully based on your experiences (of course; no vulnerability whatsoever. You didn’t open yourself up to others outside of your father and Mary, why would you to Angus Tully?)

“I went to the chapel before anyone else woke up and I just couldn’t stop staring at the picture of Curtis Lamb…I can’t even say it got me thinking about death or anything like that I just…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I felt weird and wanted to run away.”

“I get that.”

“I’m sorry for trying to get a hotel by the way,” he apologized again. “if that matters.”

You gave him a smile. “It does.”

For the first time in a while, you thought you saw him smile too; a genuine one, mind you, not the shit-eating grin he often gave you and everyone else. It was then you decided to get up and head to bed, bidding him goodnight. Then, again, you stopped in the doorway from another thought.

“What were you going to call me?”

“Huh?” He perked his head up.

“When you were crying about being stuck over here for Christmas?” You alluded. “You and my father are losers, Mary’s a grieving mom, but what am I?”

His eyes drifted in thought, then back to you. “‘Your know-it-all daughter.’ That’s what I was gonna say.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling as you backed out into your room. “I do know all, Angus Tully.”

You couldn’t see his face anymore when you went to your bed, but you heard his sarcastic ‘Goodnight’ with him saying your full name, and your chest felt lighter than it did the night prior to talking with him.

…What the hell was happening to you?

You were giddy, you giggled to yourself about nothing and had to hide your mouth under the blanket so Angus wouldn’t hear you in the other room. For a moment, when asking him what he would’ve called you, you wanted him to say ‘pretty’. So much shit happened that day, but the one thing, the one thing that your mind goes back to is taking his hand, and not letting go until you realized-…

…No…

No…

Oh, what the fuck?!

Oh god!

Once you were happy about having a newfound crush on Angus Tully, and now you were in absolute agony.

What a wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve-Eve.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

(Fantasy au question!) Barnaby is bard, but does he know how to use his lute? Any songs he knows?

i'd think that he can use a Variety of instruments! so if he had a lute, he'd probably be able to bang out some tunes! as for songs.. man. idk! many!

[too-deviant]

The incessant ringing of loneliness (or three weeks part two).

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Summary: Luke is back, officially. But you can’t find it in yourself to be happy about it.

Content: angst, loser!luke makes an appearance, a lil fluff, this one is probably happier than part one

Word Count: 4k

Notes: i can’t thank you guys enough for the love on three weeks :( it really means the world, and i hope you enjoy this one too! i don’t think there’s gonna be a part 3 just because i want the rest of luke and r’s story to be up to your own interpretation - especially since his path to healing is such an important factor and it could go in any way. hope that’s ok with you guys :)

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷

You weren’t very popular at camp.

Despite the fact that you’d been there for longer than most of its occupants, and that you’d bandaged up some of their gnarlier injuries, you just didn’t have what it took to have people know your name upon first glance.

Clarisse had her unbridled aggression — she scared people into knowing who she was. Charles Beckendorf was the guy you went to when you broke a sword and didn’t want Chiron finding out about it, plus he was six foot six and kinda hard to miss. The Stoll Twins were behind pretty much every crazy scheme that ended up in Hermes losing desert privileges. Luke was…well, he was Luke. Need I say more?

Point is, while everyone knew everyone, not everyone really knew you. They knew your face, your parentage, and your overall skill set. But they didn’t know your name, or what made you tick.

Which was fine, really. You liked the alone time you got in the infirmary when your sister would run out to gossip with her friends in Aphrodite whenever she saw them walk by. You didn’t mind that, when your cabin got their hour of free time each day, your siblings would rush off to their friends and you would simply settle down with a good book.

It’s not as if you were entirely lonely — you had your fellow Apollo kids. You, Alina and Lee bonded especially, being the older kids of the group. So you had them — the only difference was that they had other people, too.

Which, again, was fine.

Except when you started to take care of Luke, you finally felt like you had a person. You looked forward to seeing him after meals each day, and you found excuses to linger in his room whenever possible. Call it odd, but you grew to enjoy the fact that nobody else knew he was back. Because that way, you had him, he had you, and that was that.

But then Luke got better.

You didn’t even have time to worry about it — one minute you were scarfing down your breakfast, eager to bring that second plate up to the Big House, and ignoring the strange looks your siblings sent you. Then in a split moment, everyone was cheering, people were standing and suddenly you didn’t feel so crowded anymore.

You heard murmurs of excitement, but people were practically standing on the table around you — unhygienic, much? People are eating here — and you couldn’t see what they were looking at. You tugged on your brother’s leg and he glanced down at your raised brow, then he said, “Luke’s back!”

It was like you were sucked back in time. No — it was like you were sitting in a waiting room, shivering from the cold breeze that whisked in through the automatic doors. And then the doors closed, and you could release the tension in your body because the warmth was already reaching your fingers — only for someone to walk past and make the doors open again, sending the sharp sting of the cold right back to where it was before.

Yes. That’s what it was — the warmth Luke’s eyes on you had provided was suddenly ripped completely from you the second your brother's words reached your ears. Replaced with the blistering cold of nobody ever knowing your name.

So it was back to normal for you. The normal you had grown accustomed to — the normal you liked. The normal you thought you liked, anyway. 

You didn’t even catch a glimpse of Luke’s face as you stood and left the Pavilion, focusing on the floor beneath your feet rather than the crowd forming around him. Oh, but you couldn’t forget that he was back, it was all anybody could talk about. Once they’d done the math and realised he was the patient you’d been taking care of for three weeks, you locked yourself in your cabin to avoid all the questions, and didn’t see him until the very next day. 

The chatter of Luke’s return had died down when you woke up the next morning — a little later than you usually did, Lee having to shake you so you wouldn’t miss breakfast. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and pulled a clean camp shirt over your head, stumbling a little due to the fact that you hadn’t fully woken up yet. 

When you were ready, Lee was waiting by the door. A few of your siblings were still getting themselves into a line after his loud Fall in! had woken them up, so you had time to stretch your arms and let out a sigh once you had taken your place beside him. You and Alina always walked with him to mealtimes, even though neither of you were counsellors, and you greeted her with a smile. 

The air was stuffy again — so much so that even Lee let out a wince when the shining glow of the front door hit his eyes. Then he stepped out of the cabin — his usual routine of checking the garden and cabin for pranks before letting them out coming into play. But he stopped. 

“What?”

He swung his head back at you, brows raised and smile growing, “Luke’s back.”

Out of instinct, you rolled your eyes, “Pretty sure we all know that, already.”

“Yeah, but —“ He turned fully then, hands on the doorframe and grin shining, “He’s back, which means the Hermes kids are finally under control again, which means we don’t have to worry about being pranked first thing in the morning!”

“Holy crap.” Alina was grinning now, both of your siblings looking at you and each-other with this excited expression that made you sort of angry – why are they perceiving Luke? They’re not allowed. 

You huffed a sigh as Lee started to lead the line outside, “He got back yesterday, there’s no way he’s already –”

But he was. As you stepped into the sun, the skin on your thighs already forming an uncomfortable layer of sweat, you looked to where the Hermes cabin was filing out of their door, led by the one and only Luke Castellan. You paused. 

He’d been back a day. Sure, his scar had healed nicely, but it was only three days ago that he was struggling to hold his own in a sword fight – if he was back to his counsellor duties, was he going back to teaching sword fighting? You were unsure he should even be in charge of all those Hermes and unclaimed kids so soon, but going back to teaching only days after coming back to camp? There was no way he was ready for that.

Should you say something? Or would he dismiss you, now that he was done with you?

You watched as he walked with Chris, chatting idly as if nothing was wrong. But you saw Chris glance occasionally at the jagged line through his brother’s eye, and you saw Luke attempt to ignore it. 

Should you say something?

You tripped. You were so busy staring creepily at Luke that you tripped over your own feet and tumbled into Lee’s back. He stumbled slightly but righted himself with a huff and a chuckle, turning and asking if you were alright. 

But you had looked straight back in Luke’s direction – he was still talking to Chris. He wasn’t looking at you. 

He wasn’t your person anymore.

Luke was unsure. 

Which didn’t happen often — as one of the oldest campers, and the one everyone else looked to in times of peril, it was sort of essential for him to be sure. He needed to know what to do, to have a solution for every situation, and to be completely calm about it. Otherwise, camp would go to shit. 

That much was obvious — he didn’t know why you hadn’t told him this in the three weeks you spent together, but camp had turned itself upside down in his absence. Apparently nobody was prepared for him to be gone for so long, and they kind of all lost their shit. 

He was happy to be back, don’t get him wrong. He lit up when he saw his brother’s faces again, when he felt their arms wrap around him. He laughed when Travis joked about thinking he was dead, and when Connor quipped that the camp was seconds away from starting a revolution. He nodded at Chiron, smiled amusedly when Mr D rolled his eyes, he scooped Annabeth into his arms, whispered to her that yes, he was alive, and he let himself be whisked to his table, the crowd following like moths to a flame. 

It was slightly overwhelming, but he was well-equipped to deal with it. He liked the feeling — if he ignored the throbbing on the side of his face, it could be like he’d never even left. The quest never happened, the dragon never happened, and people are just happy to see him because he’s their counsellor. Of course they would be. Everything was fine. 

Everything was fine — so he ignored the urge to scan his eyes across the crowd in search of a familiar head of hair. He stopped himself from glancing at the Apollo table, from looking in Lee’s direction, just in case he wasn’t standing alone. 

Because he didn’t need you anymore. Not that he didn’t appreciate all you did for him, but the healing was done. He was better, he was back at camp — he was Luke Castellan again. If he looked for you, if he met those eyes and returned that smile, it would be admitting defeat. Admitting that he wasn’t better, that he still needed his doctor. 

But he didn’t. Because he was back, baby! And he didn’t need to think about that stupid quest, his stupid dad, or his stupid scar ever again. 

He had a short chat with Chiron, who looked a little uneasy when he expressed his readiness to get back to camp duties. He told him that it was fine if he needed time to settle in, but Luke was firm. He didn’t need to settle, he didn’t need to wait. So Chiron sighed, and told him to escort his cabin to the climbing walls for their morning session. 

And that’s how the rest of the day went — climbing wall, arts and crafts cabin, strawberry fields, archery practice. Luke did it all, just like he used to before he left. If people would just stop looking at his damn scar, maybe he could pretend he never left at all. If they stopped murmuring about him being the secret camper, hidden from them this whole time, he could avoid thinking about you and the sweet touch of your fingers on his face. 

The fact that he hadn’t seen you at all since his return helped him on that front — you weren’t around at breakfast, lunch or dinner. You weren’t in the infirmary whenever he peeked through the windows. You weren’t with the rest of your cabin when they were paired with Hermes for hand-to-hand defence practice. 

Not that he was looking for you, or anything.  

“Hey, man.” Chris clapped him on the shoulder as they walked up to breakfast. It had officially been twenty-four hours since Luke’s return, and the chatter had died down significantly. That was good for him, helped him ignore the fact that he was ever not there. 

All he had to do was keep his eyes off you — who had magically reappeared in camp — as you also walked up to breakfast, the Apollo kids trailing behind you, Lee and Alina. 

“Listen, you did great yesterday.” His brother was saying, and he zoned in on it. “It was like you never left.”

Cool, that was the plan. 

“But it’s sword fighting today.” 

Luke raised a brow, “So?”

“So…” Chris sang, awkwardly waving a hand, “You don’t have to jump right back into training us, is what I’m saying.”

He scoffed, running a hand through us curls, “Nah, bro, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? Because —“

“Y’know, Chris,” Luke sent his brother a cheeky look as they took their seats around the Hermes table, “if you’re scared to get back to my gruelling training sessions, just say that.”

Chris’ face fell, appalled, and he put a hand on his chest, “Scared? Dude, you’re the one who should be scared. I’ve gotten good since you’ve been gone.”

And there it was — a reminder that it wasn’t the same. That he couldn’t pretend he had never left, because nobody else was. Whatever, it’d be fine. A couple of weeks and this would all blow over and he would never have to think about it again. 

The Amphitheatre, unlike the rest of the camp amenities, was familiar to him. He didn’t need to stand and take it all in like he did with everywhere else, because he’d been here not even a week ago with —

No. Stop. You aren’t in his life anymore. He never went on his quest. Everything is how it should be. 

The kids gathered around him were letting off a range of emotions as Luke stood before them, sword in hand. The younger ones were giddy, eager to get back to training with their favourite teacher. Some of the older ones, however, were only slightly confused that he’d bounced back so quickly. If he had to spend three weeks in the Big House before even going outside, was he ready to jump right back into sword training? Maybe he’d go easier on them today, take it slow. 

“Alright — if there’s anything I've learnt over the years, it’s that sword fighting is all about reflexes. So, today, we will be working on y’all’s dodging skills. Oliver, get up here!”

Luke was back on Mount Tamalpais. The fiery breath Ladon was shooting at him seared his skin and burnt holes into his shirt. He was ducking out of the way, but there was no room to breathe when another one of his hundred heads came at him with a fierce snarl. His sword felt useless in his hands, every swing being deflected and every jab proving useless compared to the dragon's swift movements. 

He blinked, and he was back at camp. Sparring with an unclaimed kid who’s name was lost on him. Sweat dripped down his brows but he wiped it away with shaky fingers. He gave an off-handed comment on the kids form before calling a water break. 

“Yo— woah, man!” 

Chris looked wide-eyed at Luke. He had tapped him gently on the shoulder and he had responded with an aggressive swing towards him. He stepped out of the arc just in time, but Luke still dropped the sword like it had burnt him. He stepped back, hands shaking, and stared at the ground. 

It was odd — being at Archery in the mornings. You’d spent three weeks skipping the hour in favour of taking food to Luke and ensuring his dressings were changed. Which for most cabins, was what? Three classes a week? 

Not for the Apollo kids — who have always and will always have their first hour spent on the Archery fields. Mainly because it’s when the sun is rising, shining on them in the early mornings and giving them their power to hit the bullseye. You included, even if healing was more your purview. 

So you’d missed probably around twenty classes, give or take a few. Your form was, well, subpar at best. Lee had to spend the entire hour making sure you didn’t accidentally hit one of your siblings — and that was after he had to re-teach you the basics. 

You probably would’ve been better had you not been so distracted — your mind whirring with thoughts of Luke. You wished your brain would just leave it alone, but apparently you weren’t done mulling over the situation. You wanted to slap yourself across the face and say hey, idiot. The three weeks is up, he’s healed. It’s over. But your siblings would probably look at you weird, so you decided against it. 

Instead, you threw yourself into your duties. Archery was a bump in the road, but now you were smooth sailing. You didn’t focus on anything else but what you had to do that day — not taking a moment to breathe because if you did that, you’d start thinking about Castellan again. You didn’t want that, you really didn’t want that. 

It was going really well, too. But then Chiron just had to interrupt your canoeing session, asking you to clear out any medical supplies you left over in the spare room of the Big House since nobody was staying there anymore.

Oh, great. You were thinking about him again. 

And then all the thoughts you’d been suppressing since ten in the morning were overflowing your head, and you thought you might have had to ask Mr D if you were going mad because when you cracked open the door and peeked your head in, Luke was sitting on the edge of the bed like usual and you had to blink to make the hallucination go away. 

Except it didn’t go away. Instead it looked at you and smiled, “Hi.”

Your lips parted, and you stepped in. Your eyebrows curved in on themselves, “Uh, hey. What are you…”

You were still about seventy percent sure that he wasn’t real, but nobody was there to listen to you talk to air, so you replied anyway. Luke clicked his tongue, let out a chuckle, then sighed, “I don’t think I can do it.”

Okay, fifty percent sure. 

“Do what?”

“Go back out there.” He gestured a hand to the window that pointed outside, although it was still covered with the curtain. “I thought…I dunno, I guess I got too excited yesterday. Thought I was ready to jump back into it.”

You stepped fully through the threshold, and he followed you with his eyes as you walked over to the desk. Nothing but a few spare bandages that you scooped into your arms before looking back at him. You tilted your head, “Healing isn’t linear. It’s perfectly normal to feel like you’re on top of the world one day and then like it’s crumbling around you the next.”

He stood, walked over to you. Thirty percent. 

“I don’t want to disappoint them.” 

“You won't.” You shook your head, “You made a big step, coming back to camp. That's it for now, you don’t need to take any more big steps for a while.”

He nodded, “No more big steps.”

“Not until you’re ready.”

Luke’s hands reached out, taking the bandages from where you cradled them to your chest. He put them back onto the desk behind you. Ten percent. 

His eyes bore into yours, “I don’t think I’m done healing.”

You shook your head surely, “I don’t think you are, either. And that’s okay.” 

He nodded, lips clicking when he parted them, “Which means you’re not allowed to leave me yet. You have to stay with me until I’m fully better.”

You shook your head then, stammering, “It’s — that’s not how it works. What you went through, it — you might not ever be fully better.” 

But Luke just nodded like he knew that already, taking a step closer, “I think I’m okay with that.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. What the hell do you say to that? “Okay.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together, “So you’re not gonna leave me.”

Five percent.

A shake of your head, “Not until you ask me to.”

“Good.”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you froze. Okay, he was real. He was really there. You were sure. You hugged him back — he buried his face into your neck and whispered something about you never leaving him again and you whispered something in return about how you wouldn’t dream of it.

So, apparently, you severely underestimated what it was like to be friends with Luke.

You’d thought about it — of course you had. You would imagine what perfect golden boy Luke Castellan was like when he didn’t have to be a perfect golden boy. When he could just be a boy, hanging out with his friends like a normal person would. What jokes did he tell? Did he still keep up that Luke Castellan Grin or did he relax into an easy smirk? Did he make his friends follow the rules even when they were alone? Did he follow the rules when he was alone?

You wondered, although you never thought you’d actually find out. But he’d made it clear you were never leaving his side so long as he still needed you — and he was sticking to that. Firmly.

The summer sun was hot on your back — only this time your dad seemed to be going easy on you, as you weren’t completely uncomfortable under the warm cotton of your camp shirt. You still wafted it every now and then, proving some cool air to your chest, but overall you were feeling good.

You walked into the Amphitheatre with the rest of your siblings — who were less than amused that, despite Luke’s return to camp, Tyler P from the Hephaestus cabin was still running sword fighting practice. They heaved themselves onto the tiered seats with dramatic groans, but he simply grinned at them.

You paused from where you were about to sit down next to Alina when a waving hand caught your peripheral. It was Luke, tucked into the very top corner of the steps, smiling at you from the shadows.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked when you reached him, raising your brow in amusement. He patted the spot next to him and you sat down, just as Tyler began to talk. Luke leaned in.

“I’m watching.” He muttered into your ear, then he smirked at you, “You can’t stop me from doing that.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You murmured, leaning back on your elbows and watching as your siblings paired up reluctantly. “Thanks for pulling me away, though. Gives me an excuse not to take part.”

Luke huffed a laugh, “He can’t be that bad, right?”

“Just you wait.” You smirked.

Turns out, Tyler was that bad. Every ‘new skill’ he tried to teach them either (a) they already knew, something Luke liked to whisper at you with a shake of his head, or (b) he couldn’t even do it himself, let alone teach others how to. Another thing Luke commented on from where he sat beside you, hands aching to get in there and show him what was what.

“Just one tip, and then I’ll go.” He begged under his breath as Tyler dropped his sword for the umpteenth time. “Please.”

“No.” You didn’t even look at him, “Because one tip turns into a demonstration. And a —“

“— a demonstration turns into a class, yeah yeah.” He rolled his eyes, but you just grinned at him. He smiled, “You’re mean.”

“I know.” You said in a faux-sympathetic tone. You pouted at him, “I’m just so cruel, aren’t I?”

His eyes narrowed, and his mouth stretched into a disbelieving grin, “Damn, doc. What happened to you?”

You scoffed amusedly, “You did.”

His mouth dropped open and you smiled, looking away. He poked your side and you shuffled away with a giggle, attempting to ignore his riled up smile. He didn’t relent, for every inch you moved away from him, he scooted right back towards you. You looked at him with a narrowed gaze, “I miss when you were too miserable to talk to me.”

“No you don’t.” He shook his head. He was right, you didn’t.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, and you felt it on your face. That was when you realised how close your faces were — mere centimetres apart. You swallowed thickly, but you didn’t move away. Luke’s smile stretched, and his hand began to inch up your arm.

You squinted, “What are you doing?”

It was his turn to feign confusion, pulling his lips into the same pout you did only moments earlier, “What are you talking about?”

His hand was at your elbow now, sliding higher. You shook your head, a minute movement, “Doctor Patient Fraternising isn’t allowed.”

He gasped, pulling his hand back in favour of placing it dramatically against his chest, “It’s not?”

“Nope.” You grinned amusedly, “Sorry.”

“Damn.” He leaned back, glancing at you for a second before looking back towards Tyler’s shitshow of a sword lesson, “Guess I’ll have to get another doctor.”

You snorted, “You’re a loser.”

You stood up and went to rejoin your siblings, and Luke shouted after you, “I’m your loser!”

“What was that?” Lee asked when you stopped beside him.

“What? Oh,” You glanced back at where Luke was sat, and he averted his gaze from where he had been looking at you. You looked up at your brother, “He’s just happy to be back, is all.”

He chuckled, “Sure.”

Whatever. He was your person again and Lee could suck your dick if he had anything to say about it.

🏷️ @aceofswordsandarrows @cowsandcomics @number-onekidqueen @kestisvrse @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @how2besalty @iinlovewithfictionalppl @lilacspider @l0ve-dov3 @coffi-cake @ironmanbaldes @onecojg @hiraethavis @freaking0utficrecs @delphifarms @wildlyfreemoon @candylandy8173 @sinnercry @featherofthecrow @babellucci @telliette @totallynotnic

[fishfission-dc]

Batfamily Powerpoint Night! (Part 4: Jason)

<<Part 3: Tim    |    Part 5: Cass >>

[Masterlist]

Jason: Alright everyone get your hopes way down

Tim: I’m truly terrified of whatever you made for this

Dick: Let’s just be happy he participated!

Dick: Okay yeah nevermind

Bruce: Jason. This is-

Jason: Let’s just be happy I participated

Steph: If I’m not your favorite I’m rioting

Tim: Yeah this is the only right answer

Duke: He really does put up with way too much

Dick: Like childhood Bruce

Bruce: Hn. (in reluctant agreement)

Cass: (signs) I love you too :)

Damian: Cassandra is undoubtedly a very skilled combatant.

Steph: A rare good opinion from Jason

Jason: This is why you’re higher on the hate list

Duke: I am literally so honored, I would like to thank the Academy- 

Barbara: He called you “Nightlight”

Tim: And said your suit is ugly

Duke: I don’t even care. I’m too low on the hate list to care.

Dick: He said you’re going to snap?

Duke: I mean I don’t disagree

Tim: I’M THE FOURTH BEST?

Jason: After some new information learned in the previous presentation, Timmy should probably be a lot higher on the list. 

Steph: Oh calm down Timbo you barely got “tolerable”

Tim: HE TRIED TO KILL ME AND HE STILL LIKES ME BETTER THAN THE REST OF YOU

Barbara: Fair.

Dick: For the record, Jason, we are dating and I am not a cop anymore

Barbara: I still did date a cop though Dick he’s not wrong

Jason: See this is why she’s lower on the hate list than you

Barbara: You’re just scared to cross me

Jason: ...that too.

Tim: AHAAHAH

Damian: THIS IS UNFAIR

Steph: HAHHHAHHA

Damian: I AM NOT DONE GROWING YET TODD

Jason: You’re still short

Dick: It’s okay Damian, Jason was even shorter when he was your age!

Dick: ...crap.

Jason: Thank you for proving my point.

Tim: At least you’re not a cop anymore

Bruce: You broke his nose, Jason

Jason: He deserved it 

Steph: ...wait a minute

Tim: (laughing, in realization) You mean... no

Steph: guys wait no-

Steph: NO WAY AM I YOUR LEAST FAVORITE

Jason: THE F*@#%&$ YOGURT HAD MY NAME ON IT 

Steph: YOU CANT CALL DIBS ITS FIRST COME FIRST SERVE

[squabbling continues]

Dick: I’m surprised Bruce didn’t score the number one spot

Bruce: Hn. (in understanding)

Tim: I thought it’d be me honestly

Barbara: Oh come on, he loves all of us. He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t.

Cass: (signing) Agreed. I can go next?

<<Part 3: Tim    |    Part 5: Cass >>

[Masterlist]

[justalildumpling]

⇢ 3, 2, 1

synopsis: at this point of your pathetically unrequited crush on your popular friend, it didn’t faze you when you found out that he wasn’t going to be at the same NYE party as you. but when he suddenly turned up to come find you, did you start wondering that maybe you weren’t the only one with harboured feelings.

pairing: mark x reader genre: friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff word count: 2.3k warnings: swearing, drunkenness/mentions of drinking and partying, the word sex was said once note: lmao the way i’ve literally had this idea in my wip documents since like last year… anyways, here’s a little soft boi mark to start off your year <33 happy new year everyone!!

It didn't really make much sense.

Well, according to the resident drunkards Haechan and Chenle that is, being sober on New Years Eve.

Or any house party for that matter.

"It's literally free alcohol Y/N, why not make the most of it?" Haechan protested, cracking open another can of Jack and Coke, letting out a satisfied hum after hearing the bubbles fizzing up to the rim of the lid.

"Cause some people want a functioning liver by the age of thirty Lee Donghyuck," You rolled your eyes at the tipsy boy, clicking your tongue in disapproval as he downed the alcoholic drink in his hand, "And actually be able to recall all the not stupid things I did the night before."

"What? Like accidentally telling our little Markie boy that you're head over heels for him?" Donghyuck fired back, shaking the last droplets of the drink into his mouth before chucking it in the kitchen bin, "He's not even with us tonight!"

Unfortunately for you, the little devil man dressed as your best friend was right. Mark Lee was nowhere to be found at the party, though you couldn't complain as you were already notified of his absence last Wednesday.

You and your group of friends sat basking in the sunlight outside on the picnic benches of the park, taking in the rare appearance of the sun within the rainy week.

"What do you mean you're not coming to Lele's?!" Donghyuck squabbled, letting his burger fall onto the wrapper with a thud.

Mark merely shrugged, guiltily scratching the nape of his neck, "Johnny had already invited me two weeks ago and I said I was gonna go, sorry guys."

You frowned at the boy's statement, swirling the fry that you had stolen from Jisung's tray into the ketchup tub.

Though Mark was an important member of your high school friend group, it was hard to align your meet ups with his hectic schedule. Sometimes you couldn't seem to understand your crush in question, how he managed to juggle his school work alongside the university basketball team, internship plus a somewhat abundant social life was a mystery in itself.

Mark Lee was a relatively popular figure at your school, good looks, a chill and caring personality and godly talented at everything he did. It was no surprise that his inbox was flooded with invitations all the time let alone the holiday break.

Despite this, he always made sure to keep in touch with you, checking in with you about how your day had been or if he's lucky to squeeze in an ice cream run by the beach with you, which you very much appreciated and made your heart swell just a little bit too much than the average person, not that he ever needed to know.

As if he sensed your disappointment within the group's chaotic wails and cries, Mark reached over to give your hand a little squeeze, sending you an apologetic glance.

It was things like this which made up your hopelessly harboured feelings for the Canadian, making you think that it wasn't just you that had pathetically pined over him but being the nice guy that he was, probably treated others the same way.

Jaemin and Renjun though seemed to argue otherwise, whining to tell the clueless boy about your feelings, saying that there's no way that he wouldn't like you back before you quickly shushed them, snapping to keep their delusions in their heads.

"Hello? Earth to Y/N?" A voice broke you from your thoughts, causing you to peer up from your seated position on the couch, eyes trailing up the body of a boy to meet an amused Jeno.

He held out your phone, his cheeky grin growing exponentially the more you stared at his hands in confusion.

"Lover boy texted," He finally explained, nonchalantly chucking the device onto your lap, "Figured you'd want to know."

You grumbled, throwing the nearest pillow at the boy in which he barely dodged as he chuckled at your embarrassment, slipping off to the kitchen, most likely reporting the incident to his best friend.

Rolling your eyes, you unlocked your phone to find a couple missed calls from Johnny, unsent message notifications from Yuta and Mark's little message.

markie: hey :)

you: hi!! how's johnny's?

markie: too loud, yuta kept tryinhg to kisss me and johnny keeps bullyibg me markie: so i left

You giggled at his poor attempts at coherent sentences, covering your mouth with your hand to avoid the potential teasing from your friends.

You've seen Mark drunk a couple times, mostly at Johnny's parties after finals week. He was a cute drunk, clinging onto your figure rambling on about things which you couldn't quite decipher, in turn making him an easy target for the playful teasing from his seniors.

Which now that you thought about it, explained the random notifications from Johnny and Yuta, the two culprits behind most if not all of Mark's misery.

you: mark, are you drunk?

markie: no, im repsinsible heh markie: you're still at lele's right?

As you started to type your response, a loud groan was made from the left of the couch, causing you to switch your attention from your phone screen to Donghyuck sitting cross legged on the timber floors with Renjun, who was holding the infamous vomit bucket in front of his mouth, disgust ridden over his face.

"How much did he have tonight?" Jisung asked, almost horrified by the older boy's pitiful state from across the room. His eyes quickly darted back to the array of party mix lollies and the lukewarm pizzas displayed on the dining table, as unidentifiable contents threatened to spill from Donghyuck's mouth.

"We've already lost count," Jaemin resonated from the kitchen, his voice slightly drowned out by the rushing water, "Lele's isn't doing much better either, he's currently occupying the toilet bowl instead of the bucket."

You shook your head, silently chuckling at your best friends' suffering.

you: i am you: lele and hyuck's drunk as fuck you: they're currently hurling their guts out you: one using the vomit bucket, one using the toilet bowl

markie: those idiots hahahah markie: btw could u come outisde for a sex markie: *sev markie: fuck markie: *sec

you: pfft and u said u weren't drunk you: also, ur outside?!?!?

markie: shut up im fine i djust cant type rn

you: lol whatever u say markie you: i'll be out in a sec

You sat up from the couch, quietly squeezing past the crowd formed around the unfortunate boy and up the stairs.

Slipping on Jaemin's drunkenly bought La Coste slides, you swung open the door. A shiver slivered up the small of your back as the cool breeze hit your bare arms, a contrast from the warm stuffy atmosphere from inside.

You spotted Mark standing by the gates of Chenle's house, the dim street light illuminating his facial features, making him look more ethereal than he already was. With a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you began making your way towards him.

The sound of gravel shuffling from underneath your feet caused Mark to whip his head around to face you, he was pretty certain that most of the alcohol in his system had disappeared on the walk from Johnny's house but why was it that as soon as he saw you happily skipping down the path, greeting him with the sweetest smile that made him feel so euphoric?

"I can't believe you came!" You exclaimed, bringing him into a warm embrace.

His reply came in the form of a shy laugh, tickling the back of your neck with his breath.

He held you in his arms for a few minutes, with only the occasional squawks from inside breaking the comforting silence.

"Can you believe it's already the new year?" You whispered in awe, pulling away from his body to face him.

"Yeah dude that's insane, it feels like this year went by so quickly," Mark replied, adding his favourite form of endearment to the start, "Do you think you're ready for it to be over?"

You pondered for a few seconds, reflecting back on all the events that occurred within the past year before shrugging your shoulders, "I'm not sure."

"Don't get me wrong, this years been great but I feel like due to school, work and whatever, I wasn't able to fulfil all the things I wanted to do."

Mark nodded his head at your words, resonating with every word.

You always seemed to have the right things to say to him, always so understanding about his hectic schedule but never failing to let him know that he was missed whenever he couldn't make his friend's gatherings. It was things like this which caused the gradual course of his feelings for you.

For a while, Mark believed that he had made his crush on you subtle, not overly flirting or showering you in gifts in front of your friends. But one friendly reminder from Jaemin about his drunk habit of becoming a koala and latching onto you as if his life depended on it, broke his oblivious bubble. He quickly realised that many people had caught on, with some making it more obvious than others.

"I'm telling you, she likes you back bro!" He remembered Johnny exclaiming a few hours back with Yuta nodding enthusiastically as he half hazardously sipped on his beer.

Mark, Johnny and Yuta were situated in the secluded areas of the host's bedroom, with the party hammering hard downstairs. He wasn't too sure how he had ended up on his bed getting lectured by his two teammates about love pestering him to confess his feelings.

"C'mon, just text her saying to meet up," Yuta encouraged, handing him his phone to unlock, "You saw what happens when Johnny and I have our phones."

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering the sheer panic he had felt when the older boys dialled your number on their phones a few moments back, threatening to spill his secret before he had lunged at their figures wrestling to press the red hang up button.

"You literally have the best excuse to kiss her tonight," Johnny huffed, flopping down on his bed with arms crossed, "It's New Year's Eve."

"No way dude," Mark flatly responded, slapping his phone against his forehead, "What if she doesn't like me?"

"As if a girl would ever reject you," Yuta snorted, nudging the sides of his arms with his elbow, "Now hurry up and text her you fool."

And here he was, standing in front of you in the middle of the gravel pathway, with his face flushed.

Though whether it was due to the alcohol or whether it was the thought of kissing you tonight, he wasn't too sure. But taking into account his palpitating heart in his chest as he waited anxiously for midnight, it seemed to lean towards the latter.

"Sorry for rambling on," You scratched the base of your neck, hoping you didn't talk his ear off.

Mark frantically waved his arms around, shaking his head.

A muffled shriek awfully similar to Chenle's interrupted your conversation, startling both you and Mark as you whipped your heads back to the house. It remained quiet for a few seconds before a range of shouts counting down from ten resonated shortly after.

You giggled, turning around to focus on Mark's smiling face once again as the both of you joined in.

"Three," Mark cleared his throat, wiping his clammy hands on the sides of his ripped jeans.

"Two," He grabbed onto your hand, taking in your sweet smile and the way you reciprocated his touch, clasping your fingers around his, your rings clinking with his.

"One, Happy New Ye-"

The moment his lips hit yours, it had felt like all the daze of the alcohol was wearing off. Regaining consciousness of the way his lips perfectly moulded against yours and how he slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting the watermelon lollipop you loved so much. Gripping onto your waist and tugging you closer, his heart began to mirror fireworks, matching the way the real ones sparks crackled and thundered in the background.

Pulling away from your touch, the confidence he had going in had simmered down as he gingerly met your eyes once again.

"What was that about?" You whispered, your eyes carrying a sense of wonder.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that without your permission, but you just looked so beautiful and I've had a crush on you for god knows how long and I just couldn't help it. God what am I saying, you can slap me if you want-"

You cut him off by pressing your lips against his once again, jerking him forward by his hoodie strings.

"You kissed me," Mark's eyes widened, awestruck by the sudden gesture.

"I did." You replied, fidgeting with the hems of your shirt as you added, "You said that you liked me."

"I did," Mark confirmed with a shy smile, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Does that mean you like me too?"

You could feel your cheek heat up as you dipped your head in response, making him beam at the small motion as he brought you into his arms, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck.

"Happy New Year Y/N," Mark kissed your forehead, his hands resting on the top of your shoulders as he gazed into your eyes adoringly.

"Happy New Year Mark.”

permanent taglist: @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies

[heartss4val]

hi valerie!

i have a suggestion for a leo x reader. we all know he would give beautiful little gifts, so how do you think he would react when receiving them? like something artistic and carefully handmade. idk just thought it might me cute lmao

thank you 🩶

𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ KNICKNACKS | leo valdez x gn!reader hc's [wc: 586]

leo would be so ecstatic omg

he'd handle the small trinket you made for him with so much care and delicacy, you'd think it was made out of glass. and once he was finished admiring your creation, (though, that would take a while.) he'd immediately blurt out a high-pitched "for me??"

he just struggles to comprehend why someone as talented as you would use your creative abilities for him? he's so used to being overlooked that even the thought of being the recipient of your artistry is almost unfathomable. :(

leo would turn your creations over and over in his hands, silently memorizing every detail, as if he's afraid that your work might vanish if he takes his eyes off of it.

and his reaction?? always stays the same?? no matter how long its been?? you'd present your work to him and he'd be so theatrically shocked. like full on gasping and lowkey fighting for his life as if he hadn't expected the gift at all, even though you'd been showering him with your creations for the past month.

but once he gets past that point?? he becomes almost obnoxious about it. 💀 he'd sit in the dining pavilion so proudly, your little knickknack perched right next to him with the full intent of somebody asking him about it JUST so that he could ramble about you.

literally ONE person would bring it up, just to make small conversation, and he'd be like, "oh, THIS?? it was made by MY partner, for ME, by the way. but no big deal, y'know."

waited his entire life for that moment fr.

i completely mean it when i say leo would sweep ALL the belongings from his shelf to showcase even ONE item you made for him in all its glory. front and center. his siblings are so confused.

but if you start regularly gifting him things and blessing him with your artistry on a daily basis? he'll dedicate an entire shelf to your creations. and it's so funny because the rest of his area is so cluttered and disorganized, with random unfinished projects laying around without a second thought, bed not even made, but the shelf above his bunk?? the one with all your creations sitting on it?? it's so neat?? organized and color coded and everything?? it almost looks out of place.

even when you're away on quests, he still admires the creations you've left behind, tenderly cradling them in his hands and running his fingers over every curve and edge, as though you were still with him in the moment. :((

after some time, the gifting thing would turn into running joke between you two. a game of one-upmanship where every gift had to be better than the last. like if you made him a small sculpture out of clay, he would show up at your cabin the next day with a BOUNTY full of creations he made himself, along with a bouquet of flowers that he borrowed with no intention of giving back (stole) from the demeter kids to top it all off. <3

you'd make him one thing and he makes you ten more, he's so whipped.

leo would cherish your gifts so much, like he's almost scared of ruining them. especially if your gift is something that is SUPPOSED to be worn, like a ring of some sort. he'd proudly wear it around camp, obviously, but he'd check on it every few minutes to make sure it hadn't magically vanished from his finger. or worse, broke.

of course, leo knows he could fix it if it became damaged, but it wouldn't be the same. it wouldn't have your charm and artistry, your unique touch that made it so special.

all in all, leo is so enamored with your creativity, but judging by his actions, you probably already knew that.

[riaki]

OKAY EVERYONE IS SAYING GOJO DOESN'T DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING YES

BuT what if we could make it a little ANGSTY instead?? 👀 He gets his happy ending. His. Happy ending. You? Well.. Old habits die hard. This is what you wanted after all no? So what if he breaks his promises? What if your smile begins to fade? What if

What you said about later on reader and freckles growing apart cause freckles seemed nice it'd be a shame for him to be an ass

But that it's silly cause the irony is what if that freckle boy.. was just like Gojo but in a different light.

Being as it wasn't him who hurt reader, it was easy to overlook the fact of how similar he was to the old Gojo she knew before it became a shit show

Maybe she realizes that

Maybe she starts thinking

Maybe she drifts apart

And maybe Gojo comforts her but he's the last person she wants to see

Because it's these stupid feelings for Gojo that led her to this hell

And Gojo goes again

And he reels her in

And once he has her

Only to see as her smile begins to fade

As all the effort he had put in when he didn't have her start going away once again

And he starts to fall into old habits becoming the same as he was before, but this time, with you at his hand

As he slowly takes away your smiles again.

But it's okay, he'll make it right. Just...later. and later. And later...

You hope.

sorry I'm not good with angst sorry for any cringe 🤣

this is!! such!!! a good!!!! take!!!!!! on hsbully!gojo!!!!!! tbh this ask speaks for itself lol n dw anon! i rlly love the way u brought it :3 this is highschoolbully!gojo part 592727465527 *suggestive!

yeah. freckles boy isn’t that great of a person. maybe he tried but it didn’t work out; u dunno why but u keep seeing gojo in him— hints of satoru in ur life. like that stinky cologne he thinks is kinda cool but rlly doesn’t smell too good on ur bfs drawer, or the way he takes his coffee. honestly, if u squint, it almost seems like freckle boy is tryna copy gojo in a way…? but u don’t like thinkin abt him so u don’t blink an eye.

fast forward u broke up with freckle boy because something or other; the point is, u really didn’t feel anything with him. there might’ve been a spark, but it was really only artificial and had no wind to fan the flames. and since u got together gojo’s been distant; his smile seems dimmer and there’s always this faraway; foggy look that makes the brilliant azure of his eyes seem cloudy gray. but then ur catching up with him again and at some random frat party you get drunk and ur sense is inhibited and— u end up kissing gojo… oops.

so then u kinda enter this fwb state with him. and.. he’s pretty cool, right? he’s kinda evrything u want in a guy— tall, pretty, cool, strong, handsome, charming— it’s a package deal. but there’s also this… rift, between the two of you. see, ever since gojo lost u the first time, he’s always been so scared of pushing u away. so u stay fwb because he doesn’t wanna lose u again in case he’s feelin more than you are. but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he sleeps with other girls and his chest doesn’t tighten like it does with u when he gets mouthfuls of fruity gloss from kissing other girls. but he forces himself to keep this wall up between the two of u because he just can’t risk losing you a third time.

it sucks for u too, though! gojo’s just a bit too dense to see it. whether it’s in his own nature, or he’s faking it. it’s probably the latter, but that’d mean he’s not being genuine again, n you don’t wanna think about it. but you’re gettin comfy with him and so is he, and you really do whole heartedly believe he’s changed this time, and for good. and it’s true! he has. but not in the way you thought. apparently, he’s exchanged being an ass with an unreachable ego to a pinch more genuine, but still an ass. it’s proved when u get to his apartment one rainy day ready to spend the weekend w/ him for a study date, but there’s clothes on the floor. dresses n stockings and a frilly blouse that you definitely think (or hope) don’t belong to gojo. unfortunately, your suspicions are confirmed when you lay eyes on the tangle of people on his bedroom through the crack in the door— this time, it’s your turn to run in a hurry. turns out, he got comfortable with you— all in the wrong way, thinking it’d be okay to sleep around. except he gives chase— after pulling on a pair of pants, of course.

eventually he catches up to you; you hate those stupidly long legs. catches your wrist and forces you to face him. in front of a chick fil a, nonetheless. he gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu— but he’s forcibly snapped out of it when je realizes you’re crying. and damn, you look gorgeous, and he wishes it would rain because the sunlight falls around you like liquid gold, framing your pretty face and reflecting prisms of rainbow in your tears.

once again, he doesn’t get it. why are you crying? it’s not like you were really serious or labeled, right…? and the entire reason you’d stayed that way was to avoid somethin like this. but gojo slowly comes to the realization that he’s fucked up big time— he has been since day 1. really, he should’ve found somebody cheaper to chase— you stole his heart and his pride, making him awkwardly and stiffly apologize to you in front of a fast food restaurant on some random crossing next to a train station. it’s only tense because he doesn’t really know how to apologize— he doesn’t have much experience with it, and for that he blames his ego.

but even so, he’s not ready for those big, sappy love confessions yet. you always made him feel so weird— correction: you still do. so you walk away somewhere between fwb and strangers. it’s always one step forward and two steps back with gojo. but maybe, just maybe— he can slowly rebuild your trust with some patience, empathy, and a lot of genuine love that he’s yet to realize he’s been nursing in his heart for you since the first time he laid eyes on you.

paaaaaaart one

[hannieehaee]

omg first of all i want to say that i love your writing, you’re amazing 😫

secondly, i saw that you opened your request for 1k followers, so i was wondering if you could do and angst-to-fluff reaction including hip hop unit? the specific one i had in my mind was about finding out that you’re pregnant and some initial anger/shock/disbelief coming from the boys, but i totally understand if you won’t do it, because i know not everyone may be comfortable with this topic. if so, feel free to ignore it or do whatever else you want 🫶🏼

lots of love, anon 🥰

finding out you're pregnant - hhu

hhu, vu, pu

content: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of marriage, established relationship, initial negative reactions, fluffy outcome for all of them.

wc: 635

a/n: thank u so much for ur kind words anon T-T and tysm for requesting!! sorry i took so long ;-; it was a lil hard for me to gauge a negative reaction out of them tbh i like to assume theyd be supportive straight away but i hope u liked what i came up with anyway <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he had always wanted to be a dad. it was one of his biggest dreams ever since he could remember. the moment he met you, he was sure he wanted to be the father of your children, often even daydreaming about it whenever he'd see you play family with him and kkuma. he was unsure as to why his first reaction upon you skeptically telling him you might be pregnant was to ice you out. he felt like a total asshole, not knowing how else to react to such life-changing news. he knew it was just the initial shock of it. he did want kids. he was ecstatic. he was just too shocked to react properly, hurting your feelings in the process.

it would take him a lot of apologizing to get you to forgive him for bis stupidity, having grown terrified that he mightve been mad at the news. he'd reassure you that he was happier than ever, almost crying at the thought of a daughter to raise with the love of his life. would eternally feel guilty he had made you doubt how much he'd love a family with you even for a second.

wonwoo -

this was all he had ever wanted ever since the two of you got together. he had immediately envisioned a family with you, a house, a long future together. he would've unfortunately reacted a bit too shocked at the news when you had first broke them to him. it was just .. you hadn't planned it. yes, he wanted it, but he didn't think it'd come this soon in your relationship. he would be initially too shocked to show any genuine happiness at it. in no way would he express disappointment or any negative feeling, but his lack of enthusiasm would have you rethinking things.

it wouldn't be until later in the day when he'd snap at himself, realizing how good these news were. would uncharacteristically begin getting emotional from how happy he was at the prospect of starting a family with you, apologizing for not showing his true emotions to you immediately after hearing the news.

mingyu -

he'd enter a state of shock, which was very out of character for the usually excitable man. his immediate lack of reaction would have you retracting, feeling like you'd somehow done something wrong. he'd immediately feel terrible about it, lightheartedly reassuring you that he was happy about it and that he'd support you no matter what.

i feel like he'd be the type to ponder over it for a few days, probably even coming to the conclusion of proposing to you if he knew you decided to have the baby. at that point he'd be happier than ever to know he was now starting a family with you.

vernon -

he was still so young. yeah, he wanted to be a dad, specially to your children, but he was at the height of his career, meaning that the time he was home was already limited as it was. he had always assumed he'd get to have a few years off after being an idol for as long as he was, allowing him to lock himself away and start a family with you. this was not how he planned it, something he had stupidly let you know when you told him the news, completely forgetting to tell you how incredibly happy the news of starting a family with you made him.

he'd feel devastated at the dejection in your demeanor after his stupid reaction, immediately backtracking and telling you how happy he was, how badly he wanted to start a family with you. there would be a lot of hurdles considering his life, but he would be willing to go through all of them if it meant building a family with you.

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ FIX IT !

summary: you thought you were over it, the whole steve-and-nancy thing. spoiler alert: you aren't. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 3.5k warning: angst. gut wrenching angst. with a sort of happy ending. a/n: i'm such a sucker for angst it's gotta be unhealthy at this point. anyway, shout out to all my angsty fic enjoyers. let's read this and cry together <3

Having four roommates and only two bathrooms was worth it if it meant getting out of Hawkins. The apartment was a quaint little thing just outside of Indianapolis — up four flights of stairs with no elevator, cracks in the walls, and a stellar view of an alleyway.

But it was nice to have a place all your own. Sharing it with all your best friends was even better. That was the dream after all, wasn’t it? And being with Steve — that was just the cherry on top of it all.

So you weren’t going to let your mean, green, and envious heart ruin the new life you and your friends were trying to build in this tiny apartment.

You didn’t even think yourself the jealous type. Not until you realized that Steve was going to live under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend. It was dumb and it was irrational and you just couldn’t shake it.

It was probably a whole lot harder for Steve than it was for you, really. Besides, it had been years since they were together. Both of them had moved on, both of them had new and blossoming relationships.

Jonathan was good to Nancy. And to you, Steve was… well he was perfect. More importantly, he was yours. 

So it really shouldn’t bother you.

And it didn’t. Not for a while. 

Not until Nancy and Jonathan broke up out of nowhere and he’d announced to all of you on movie night that he was moving out.

He said that he missed California too much, that Argyle was getting lonely all the way out there, and that he had a spare room at his place. You couldn’t tell if that was the truth or just some bullshit excuse.

Maybe both.

What made it worse is that Nancy hadn’t seemed all that upset about it. Hell, you were more sad about him leaving than she was.

She told you as much during your weekly designated wine night (the one where you and her and Robin got drunk on cheap wine, while the rest of the boys fucked off and got drunker on cheaper beer).

“It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would,” she’d confessed with a shrug, only slightly tipsy and cheeks pink with it. “We… drifted apart, I guess. Just felt right to end it.”

You and Robin spent the rest of the night comforting her, anyway.

She loved Jonathan, everyone knew that. It sort of came with the whole shared trauma thing. She had to be at least a little bit sad that her person was gone, but she hid it away from the rest of you like it was her job.

But when the days got really bad, and she found herself missing Jonathan more than she liked, she sought refuge in Steve. Your Steve. 

And it made sense. He knew her better than the rest of you.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A sick feeling twists in your stomach when Steve accompanies the girl on a liquor store run without her having to ask. You watch with your heart in your throat when he leaves with her in the dead of night — a swirling bubble of jealousy in the pit of your chest with an ache so palpable you can taste it.

You spend the next several minutes trying not to look as sad as you feel while Eddie can’t stop debating on what the two of them might be talking about.

Nancy had been more reserved as of late, carrying a rain cloud over her as she wandered through the apartment like a ghost — he concludes they’re just going out to spill some hot goss. Robin makes him promise to never say those string of words ever again while you quietly dismiss yourself to your bedroom.

Nancy and Steve have been gone for an hour.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the textured, water-stained ceiling, you start to do the math. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back with traffic — but the streets are usually bare after nine o’clock. Either way, that leaves a half hour spent trying to choose what alcohol to splurge on.

You’ve seen Nancy try to pick out wine, she’s indecisive and a perfectionist to boot. She could spend hours dissecting each bottle to find the perfect one, if Robin wasn’t constantly over her shoulder rushing her.

Maybe that’s why Nancy had declined when the girl offered to tag along with them.

Or maybe she just wanted to be alone with Steve—

You have to physically shake that thought from your head. But even when you shut your eyes, it’s like the image of him and Nancy making out in the back of her Station Wagon is ingrained in the depths of your mind.

You curl into yourself and bathe in the depths of the dark abyss you’ve created in your bedroom, trying to see your way out of your handcrafted turmoil like a bad cold.

When Nancy and Steve return, they come cradling paper bags in their arms like babies.

Robin relieves the latter of the load in his hands and follows the darker-haired girl into the kitchen connected to the living room, no larger than a decent-sized closet.

Steve notices the lack of your presence as soon as he walks through the door. When he’d left, the three of you were pregaming — a feat that often led to Eddie breaking out his guitar and you and him singing terribly off-key to whatever was playing on the radio.

Now you’re nowhere to be found, and he feels it like a missed meal. He feels the ache of your absence like an empty stomach.

“Where’d she go?” Steve asks Eddie, who’s lounging on the couch and taking up the entire space — legs spread and arms thrown over the back.

The curly-haired boy takes a noisy sip of his nearly gone beer. Then exhales rather dramatically when he sits the can on his thigh. It leaves a damp ring on the denim. “Hey, buddy... Just blow in from stupid town?”

“…What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, already annoyed and knowing more than he lets on. “She’s in her room, dingus.”

“She okay?” Steve wonders with furrowed brows, uncaring of the use of the stupid nickname because there’s bigger things to worry about apparently.

It wasn’t like you to miss a night of drinking. He gets momentarily fearful that you’d gotten sick while he was away, that he wasn’t around to help you if you had.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Eddie lilts with wide eyes, like it’s a bright idea that neither of them would’ve thought of otherwise.

His sarcasm makes Steve roll his eyes, but he heeds the boy’s words anyway.

Through the short hallway and the last door on the right, he finds you in the darkness of your shared bedroom, illuminated only by the orange streetlight that filters through the blinds. You're hid beneath the covers, a little lump on the mattress. 

He idles in the doorway and waits for you to react to his presence.

You don’t.

“Hey, babe,” he greets cautiously after concluding you just hadn’t heard the door squeak open upon his arrival. “You feel okay?”

You mumble something he can’t quite make out. He takes the raised infliction as an affirmative and shifts his weight on his feet because it’s unlike you to be so one-note with him.

“Well, I, uh— I bought some of that wine you like... I couldn’t remember if you liked the blackberry or blueberry, so I ended up just getting both, you know, just in case.”

“Okay,” you respond after several agonizing seconds. Your voice sounds so fragile in the still darkness. Like he didn’t already know something was wrong.

He so desperately wants to pry but chooses to err on the side of caution for now, out of fear of turning the bad, worse.

“You wanna come down and try it with me? If you don’t like it we can always go back—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, with a tone so soft and coated with so much emotion that it makes his heart sink. You’re anything but and he knows it.

“Okay,” he nods anyway with the hope that he can pull you from this funk you’d managed to fall into. “Do you, uh… Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

He hears your deep sigh and sees the way the wad of blankets rises and falls again. A telltale sign of your annoyance. He knows then that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Your voice remains quiet but loses its kindness when you tell him: “You can do whatever you want, Steve.”

He’s hurt by the way you’re so suddenly short with him, then angered because he didn’t do anything to deserve it in the first place.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

You don’t answer. You just sigh again, the same really big, dramatic one that’s more to showcase your irritation with him than anything else.

You’re more than keen to end the conversation right there, but Steve isn’t. Not when something’s eating you away from the inside out and he can’t do anything to help you because you won’t let him. 

“Babe, c’mon. I get it, alright? You’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” you monotone, stifled beneath the covers.

“I can’t fix it?” he repeats with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, I can’t fix it?”

You use your silence as an answer, as a weapon. It’s almost worse than any silver-tongued reply you could've given him. The quiet forces him to think for himself and imagine all the things he could’ve done wrong that he can’t take back. It feels like quicksand.

Did he forgot to kiss you good morning? Of course, he didn’t — actually, he gets mad at you for forgetting — and you were golden before he left. Eddie probably said something stupid, that was likely. Or maybe Robin made a joke that upset you, that was even more likely. 

He figures it’s something in between all those. Something silly that feels like the end of the world. He can make it better. He always makes it better.

Steve lifts the lump of covers you shield yourself with and crawls beneath them with the intention of pulling you out of the void you’ve sunken into.

It’s not so comfortable, lying in bed in socks and jeans and a collared shirt, but he doesn’t need to feel good right now — you do. He’ll be content if he can just hold you in his arms for a couple of hours, the rest of the night if that’s what you need.

But he can’t even do that.

He reaches for your arm, fingers just barely trailing across the warm skin there, and you jerk away from him like he’s shocked you.

It startles him, how quick you are to avoid him. It has him jerking back too, because you’ve never denied him the opportunity to touch you. He becomes the same sort of storm cloud that you are now, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks you, less soft than he’d been before.

You sniffle. “I told you I didn’t want you going out alone with Nancy anymore,” you mumble, face still shoved into your pillow. The words are slightly muffled but he can hear the tears that coat your voice. 

“That’s what this is about?” he wonders, not as empathetic as you’d hoped he might be, but genuinely confused. With your back to him, you don’t see the smile pulling at his lips while he shakes his head, like it’s funny to him. “Babe, we were just getting drinks. It’s no different than you going out with Robin.”

“It’s totally different! Because I was never in love with Robin. She was never in love with me—”

“Well, I beg to differ,” he murmurs in a soft laugh.

“It’s not funny, Steve,” you retort wetly and then sniffle again. When you turn to face him, he sees for the first time what he’s done to you.

The orange of the streetlight lamp outside bathes you in a sunset shade of neon — your eyes are glassy with tears that gather at your lashes. Emotions glow at the tip of your nose and your cheeks. Your skin would be hot to the touch if he felt you now.

“Do you know how weird it is for me? To watch my boyfriend and his ex go fuck around with me?” you ask him with a scrunched nose and brows, like your trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve scolds. “She just wanted to get alcohol for tonight and had some shit to get off her chest. I mean, she’s been having a really hard time lately—”

“It’s not your job to take care of her, Steve!” you shout before you even realize you’re shouting. You take in a shuddered breath and let it out in a trembling sigh, shining eyes flitted away from him and towards the ceiling as you calm yourself down.

When you start your lament again, you’re quieter.

“You can’t just be this, like, emotional crutch for her every single time something’s wrong. She’ll just get invested in you all over again and…”

Steve watches from beside you, propped up on his elbow, as you trail off. The frown between your eyebrows deepens, a great and inquisitive crevice, while your eyes widen and your mouth falls softly agape — like you’ve discovered something in the midst of your rant.

“Is— Is that what you want?” you ask him then. “Do you, like, need her attention to feed your ego or something?”

He’s too offended by your words to tell you all the ways they aren’t true. “What? No! Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Steve.”

“What is?”

“Watching you and her together!” you admit through a tightening throat. You rise from where you’d been laying down and Steve follows you, settling in front of you as you wrap your arms around your knees. “When I have to sit here, by myself, while you guys spend time alone. When she always knows what you’re up to, and I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“—It’s not fair. She’s not your girlfriend, Steve, I am. It’s your job to take care of me, not her.”

Steve deflates like a popped balloon. His chin falls to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut at the weight of your words.

It’s like you’re reminding him that he’s supposed to be in love with you and not someone he cared for a long time ago. Like you felt the need to remind him because you thought he’d forgotten somewhere down the line.

It hurts him too. It feels like you’ve got his heart in your hands and you're wringing it in your grip.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes with a nod. “I just... I guess, I never thought about it like that.”

He feels the same way, too, sometimes. When you and Eddie go all buddy-buddy mode and want to spend time together.

When you’re out all night with him at band practice. When you’re attached at the hip and having sleepovers in his room to talk about everything and nothing for hours until you fall asleep when the sun rises. When you both come down at one in the afternoon the next day for breakfast, giggling about the thing you said the night before.

It makes him feel like he’s missing out. Like you’re sharing parts of yourself with someone else and he isn’t allowed to see it.

And sometimes he gets irrational — keeps himself up all night as he imagines you and Eddie making out on his floor after going through all his new tapes or fucking in his unmade bed while he keeps a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

Steve concocts waking nightmares for himself whenever you’re not beside him.

But even then, it’s different. Because he used to do all that shit with Nancy. They fell in love, made out for hours because they didn’t want to stop feeling each other, had sex on a twin-sized bed and tried to keep from falling out of it while they did.

You’d never done that shit with Eddie — or with anyone you’re now sharing a home with. Besides Steve.

Because he’s yours now. And you’re his.

But you can’t stop thinking about how he used to be Nancy’s too.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right,” you murmur with the childlike shake of your head, slow and lazy, as you wipe your wet cheek on your shoulder. “I need you to do something about it— I needed you to do something about it a long time ago.”

“I will, okay? I will. I promise. I’ll fix it,” Steve assures you quickly, with wide and hopeful eyes and a nodding head that makes his hair flop against his forehead.

He can see you losing hope in front of him, like a flame going slowly out. You’re slipping away. He keeps fighting to keep a hold of you.

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can’t,” you sniffle. “You can’t fix it.”

“Baby—”

“It’s not fair. To either of us,” you tell him, looking at him through clumped together lashes and heavy, sparkling eyes. “And it’s not your fault, okay? But I can’t keep feeling this like. It’s not healthy— this isn’t… this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve blinks back stinging tears. He brings his hand to his face and rubs the back of it against his burning nose. He feels a bit like you do now, hopeless. You’re slipping away and he is too and you both just keep on slipping, just going going going.

“You’re not even—” he clears his throat when his voice breaks halfway through. “You’re not even gonna let me try?”

You shrug weakly. Tears burn as they gather at your waterline. You revel in the sting because it’s better than the hole ripping through your chest.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s too late.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve agonizes with the shake of his head, looking like a wounded puppy as he gaze at you with brown eyes full of hurt. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Steve—”

“No,” he interjects firmly, stopping the spiral before it can start again.

He positions himself so he’s sitting further ahead of you and holds your arms in his numbing hands, ducking down to catch your gaze when you try to look away from him.

“I love you, okay? I’m an idiot and I’m sorry and I'm stupid, alright? I wasn’t thinking. But we can’t just… It’s not too late. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

Your chest aches at his plea, at the way he still doesn’t understand.

It’s not his fault you feel this way, not entirely. It’s not anyone’s fault and that’s what’s so scary. There’s no one to blame the pain on, no root to cut out and put an end to it. You’re frightened that it’s always going to be there, constantly in the way, forbidding either of you from ever moving on.

“Steve...” you murmur through tears while the boy gathers you in his arms. You try to stop him but your voice gets caught in your throat halfway through. Because you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

He nurses you into his velvet hold, wrapping a pair of strong arms around you to cage you against him. He presses his nose into your temple while he rocks you back and forth. “I promise. Everything’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

He repeats that like a mantra while you keep your head pressed against his chest — everything’s gonna be okay, I can fix it, I love you.

It’s a promise. One that he’d rather die than break. 

You stay there, curled against his chest, while dark feelings ebb and flow in a constant and bitter cycle.

You hope he’s right. That these big feelings are just big stupid feelings that'll pass come the pink and blue sunrise. That everything really is going to be okay and that he really can fix it. 

Because even now, all hopeless and full of doom and gloom, you feel soothed in his hold. You’ve never felt safer anywhere else. You’ve built a home in the peace of Steve’s arms and you want to keep on living in them.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he whispers against the crown of your head. If you’ll let me.

He feels you nod lazily against him. “Okay.”

[aaronhotchswife]

THE WAY YOU MAKE ME FEEL

Drew Starkey X Female Reader

Chapter 2

Warnings : alcohol, panick attack, angst, want to give the reader a hug, smut, loss of virginity

If you missed chapter 1

"One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter." - James Earl Jones

Y/N's point of view

I'm at Madelyn's, curled up on the couch with a hot tea in my hands. I don't want to go home, because I know that Drew will be there, with Odessa probably. I don't have the strength to see him. Even if at the same time, he is the only person I want to see.

I now know what heart break feels like and I now know that I have to teach my heart to accept disappointments, even from the people I love, even from him.

Madelyn is sitting next to me, playing with my hair. I respond to the worried texts of my friends, saying that I'm okay and that I'm sorry to have ruined their night. They are all understanding and tell me to have a great trip at my parents for the holidays, and to take time for myself. I respond to all of them except Drew. I just write him that I'm at Madelyn's and that I'll pass by tomorrow to get my suitcase for the holidays. I ignore his texts asking me what happened. I just answer him to have a great Christmas before turning off my phone and go to sleep.

Drew's point of view

I think I'm in love with Y/N since I saw her for the first time. When everyone got cast, we had dinner at the restaurant to get to know each other. I was sitting with the boys, talking about what we liked in life, when I saw her, making her way to the table. She was wearing a yellow summer dress with white converses. Her hair was tied up in a effortless ponytail, and I swear that in that moment, I saw the most beautiful girl in the world.

But I think that I truly fell in love with her 3 months after we met. We were walking in the city, and we saw a kid looking for his parents. Without hesitation, she made her way to him, kneeling at his height, asking him if he needed help. The kid was inconsolable so she sat with him, telling him stories and making him laugh until his parents found him again. In that moment, I knew. I knew that she could have broke my heart in a thousand pieces and I would've been grateful.

Since that day, three years ago, it always been the two of us, until tonight.

So when I arrive at Madelyn's apartment, I want nothing more than to have answers. I feel sick to think I could've put her in that state. I knock at her door, rubbing my hands in my face. When she opens the door, I can see how annoy she is at me.

"She's sleeping."

"Ok, then tell her I passed by and that I want to talk. Please," we're both surprised by my shaking voice. "What the hell happened out there ?"

"Maybe you should ask that to your friend Odessa, Drew. I know she is your friend, but you should've seen the state Y/N was. Getting humiliated like that in front of her friends, in front of you."

"In front of me?" I struggled to ask, my brows furrowed.

"Please Drew," she chuckled coldly. "As if she wanted you to know that she was a virgin. I'll let her know you passed by, but you need to let her some space, she has a lot on her mind right now."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You should go, Drew, she'll talk to you when she's ready."

I leave her house, cursing to myself. When I go to bed that night, I can't stop thinking about her, about us, about how I lost something I never had.

Y/N's point of view

I leave Madelyn's apartment early this morning, figuring out that if I go to our apartment early enough, chances will be that Drew will still be asleep. I guessed right because when I unlock the door, I can hear him snoring lightly.

***

As I'm driving to my parents' house, I put my Christmas playlist on shuffle, question to get into the mood. As I get on the highway, the song Blue Christmas by The Lumineers starts playing. I feel like it's the first time in my life where I can really relate to this song. My mind starts to wonder, how will Drew's Christmas will be like. How will my Christmas be like. I can feel the tears burning my eyes as I try my best to stay concentrated on the road.

***

I'm sitting on the sofa; my parents and my brother are talking about something I can't decipher. I'm scrolling on my phone, through Instagram. My heart skips a beat when I see a picture that Mackayla posted. I look at the picture, where Drew all smiling, is photographed with his family. I read the caption as it says "Merry Christmas from our family to yours.'' I double tap on it, liking it, even if it feels as if my heart throws itself down the 18th floor to see him smile like that.

Drew's point of view

Christmas sucks this year. I try my best to act like everything is fine, to act as if she's not mad at me. But my mind keeps wandering and I keep asking myself why she acted like that. I mean, sure what Odessa did was not nice, but I keep asking myself what was the meaning behind Madelyn's words.

''Drew!'' Brooke's voice pulls me out of my thoughts, ''We're opening the gifts!''

I sit on the floor, watching my mom handing me a gift. I unwrap it, finding an air fryer under the paper. Before I can say anything, my mom almost screams, ''It's for you and Y/N! I know how you both love easy and quick cooking.''

I laugh slightly, trying to push away the thought that I miss her, that I love her, and that I hope that our friendship can pass through whatever happened that night.

Y/N ‘s point of view

As I come home 2 days later, I see Drew laying on his bed, reading a book. I feel my heart throbbing in my chest, and weirdly, for the first time, I don’t know how to act around him. A mix of thoughts is spinning around in my head, and I find myself wondering if I should apologize to him for how I acted at the bar. Madelyn told me how he went to her apartment to have answers and I can’t imagine how bad he must’ve felt.

He must have felt that I was standing in the doorframe of his room because he turned his head, looking at me with so much gentleness, as if he was afraid to break me just with his gaze.

''Hi.'' I say, making an effort to keep my voice steady.

''Hi.''

I make my way to him, laying next to him on the bed.

He clears his throat before speaking again, ''how was your Christmas?''

''T'was fun,'' I answer, my eyes focused on his bedroom's ceiling, ''what about yours?''

''Was great, my mom says hi,'' he smiles.

''We should talk,'' we say at the same time.

Drew chuckled softly, and for the first time since I'm laying next to him, I stop looking at the ceiling, looking at him instead.

''I feel like I owe you an apology for how I acted at the bar,'' I say, my voice not even louder than a whisper. But I know he heard me he interrupts me.

''No, I should apologize. I should've done something while you were having a panick attack. Does it happen often ?''

Drew's point of view

I look into her eyes as I ask my question. I can see her breath getting stuck in her chest.

''It's fine if you don't want to talk about it,'' I say, giving her an occasion of changing subject.

''No, it's ok,'' she answers, ''I used to happen a lot more when I was younger. I used to do them when there were a lot of people or noises. But the one a couple of days ago was the first in a long time. I thought I was getting better, I honestly did. But sometimes, I just lay in bed at 3 am, trying to figure out what is wrong with me and why I'm never enough.''

''I'm sorry,'' I say to her. I truly feel sorry for her, because I know that she can't see herself the way I see her. So strong, always there for the others, always happy. I'm cursing mentally to not have realized how she was doing.

''You don't have to be sorry Drew.''

My hand reaches for hers and my gaze goes from her eyes to her lips. I can see hers do the same. I just want to close that gap between our lips. But before I can do anything, she turns her head, excusing herself and leaving me alone in my room.

Taglist -

@willowalexissss

@abbybarnesstuff

@ethanthequeefqueen

@pet1t3

@drewstarkeysbae

@prentissesredtanktop

@jjmaybankisbae

@f4ll-for-you

[canmargesimpson]

Spring Cleaning

I believe that Steve's mom was a bit of a control freak. I mean, she went on business trips with her own husband to make sure she wasn't cheating on him. so she clearly likes to have her own rules in her house. 

i mean she went on a trip with her husband to make sure he didn't do anything sus. So I feel like she would also be this clean freak, every spring, she would tell Steve to clean his entire bedroom and get rid of the things she didn't need. After a while, this became a bit of a habit for Steve, so, when spring arrived and the sun started shining once again, he would clean his entire room and re-organize everything.

Later, when he is about to move in with Eddie, he realizes his room is a complete disaster. So he went full on mom mode. He summoned the entire party, put on an apron that said “Mom’s kitchen!” and bought a bunch of cleaning products (most of them he knew for cleaning after a party). At first Eddie thought Steve was messing with him, but when he showed up with the kids and the offer for them to clean his room, he was left with no choice but to say yes. And so they got to work.

First they took off all of the posters, in which Eddie was very whiny about, saying that if they broke them or even wrinkle them, he was going to sue. Then went to the closet, in which Steve, Robin and Nancy took care of. Lucas took the records and boxes of music outside to organize them next to Max, who was just sunbathing. Will, Dustin and Erica took care of the books that were everywhere. Like… Everywhere. 

“Why would you leave a book in the oven?” Dustin exclaimed as he took the collection of Sunglasses After Dark books

“Cuz i had no place to leave them” he shrugged as he turned around and kept trying to keep calm at everyone touching his stuff

Mike and Eleven were in charge of collecting the plates, empty beer cans, and food which were laying around. Finally, Argyle and Jonathan were in charge of organizing what was for donations, trash, and to keep. BUT, Argyle was lucky enough to find some edibles and weed treats and they both ended up high as hell on the couch watching looney toons. They weren’t much help at the end of the day, but at least they didn’t stand in everyone’s way. After organizing the clothes from the category, they sat and tried to see which ones were appropriate to keep, which were clean, and which were… actually clothes.

“Oh I missed this shirt!” Eddie took it from robin and raised it to see the cover of a weird ass band album cover.

“Mama’s boy? Really?” steve raised a eyebrow at his boyfriend

“Hell yeah! in 1985, they opened for Joan Jett and The Blackhearts, it was a hell of a night. I got the cassette too! Hold on” he ran outside to find lucas and max laughing

“Red, Lucas, Mama’s Boy, Power and Passion” 

“Let me- god where did I leave the M…”

“Third box, right after Malice” Max said nonchalantly, leaving both boys astounded and she just smiles “just because im blind doesn't mean i can’t see anything” 

Lucas took the cassette and handed it to eddie who was quickly inside and went to the trailer and placed the cassette in the player and connected it with the speakers, and pressed play, and the music started ( lol this is the link of the album, since its not in spotify, it should tho, their music is great tho)

“Wait…” Robin called as everyone turned to her “Why do you have like… four of their shirts?”

“Well…” eddie bit his lip and looked away trying to come up with an excuse… but at this point, he had no option but to tell the truth “I MAY have… slept with the drummer, and i might have stolen them”

“You what now?” steve smiled a little confused

“It was like, 3 years ago Stevie, don’t worry, he probably doesn't remember.” he reassured

“You slept with a drummer from a famous band?”

“Well i have fucked more famoust people, Tommy McManus is a particle compered to what i have gone through” he shows off but when he turns to his boyfriend with an un amused face

“Who then?

Eddie started laughing nervously, looking around for help, but robin and nancy were trying not to laugh while Dustin and Erica were clearly enjoying this.

“Joey Tempest… from Europe…”

“You fucked a Eurpoean?”

“ i mean, he is from sweden, and his in the band called Europe, but yeah”

“Do they sing a song we may know?”

Eddie’s cheek turned bright red as Steve looked at him with such an intimidating stare, it was too pretty for Eddie to say no to.

“You know… It the final countdown, tanana, tananana, tanana, tanananananana aaa” eddie sang in a low voice, pretty embarrassed of the situation he’s in

“Oh my god” Steve rolled his eyes and groaned

“You slept with carol perkins while she was dating tommy!” 

“Don’t you dare play the carol card on me right now!”

After a long discussion over each other's sex lives, they got back to cleaning and organizing, till the sun was setting.  They all ended up on the couch, in front of the tv, discussing which movie to watch. Their options were Howard the Duck, Mary Poppins, and Lawrence of Arabia, in which they chose Mary poppins. Steve ordered a pizza for everyone, and when Wayne came back, he could help but to join the kids watching the childish movie. They eat everylast pizza piece, and they all fall asleep on the couch munched together, and it was too cute not to take a picture, so wayne grabbed Eddie’s polaroid, snapped them a picture, which ended up the first frame that was hanged in the Munson - Harrington flat.

[libraryofloveletters]

Always You

Carlos Sainz Jr x Fem!Reader

Warnings: childhood crush, alcohol and the consumption of, carlos is ever so chivalrous, confession of a crush, slightly nervous carlos cause he probably lacks rizz as the kids say these days.

Word Count: 929

Author's Note: childhood crush always fits carlos, you can't tell me otherwise.

--

The infamous Sainz Christmas party. Every year your parents dragged you along and you only went to see one person. Your motives for going haven’t strayed despite growing up. 

The Sainz Christmas Party; every year for as long as you can remember, you'd find yourself in their living room on Christmas evening.

Your parents were friends with the Sainz family, which left you to fend for yourself when you were there. You knew their children, Ana, Blanca and Carlos.

You were closest to Carlos in age, the two of you only being 3 years apart but you never really spoke. It was a hello and how are you as he passed by on his way to his friends.

As much as you hated the whole affair and your parents offered to let you stay home, you didn't.

One person in particular held your attention; Carlos - the same guy who barely gave you the time of day.

Over the years, you became quite fond of him, admiring him from afar. You knew of each other, you were friendly but you weren’t friends or anything like that. You keep up with his career and you two are grown now.

Carlos had recently turned 30 and you were 27 this year - he was at Ferrari and you had found yourself a job as an editor, the exact thing you wanted to do.

Despite your grown age, your parents brought you along to the Sainz Christmas party; not that you minded.

It was well underway at this point, dinner was had and now the drinks and conversation was flowing. You did enjoy it to some degree, Reyes out did herself with the decorations each year. A new theme for a new chapter of their lives, different colours and designs carefully thought out and placed around the massive house.

A habit you developed over the years, as long as you had a glass of something in your hand, people would leave you alone. Your glass was empty and you find your way to refill it before someone pulls you into a conversation you did not want to have.

"Looking for something?" The voice comes from behind you, you hadn't seen anyone in the kitchen when you stepped in but you turned to find Carlos behind you.

"Just some wine."

Carlos nods, picking up the bottle and walking over to you. You half expected him to hand you the bottle and leave but he refills your glass, then his own before setting the bottle down. "Would you like to take a walk with me?" He offers out of the blue.

"Uh, sure."

He gestures for you to step out of the open that was cracked open, leading out into the dark yard. Carlos's hand rests on your lower back gently, as if to guide you - he does exactly that.

Just because you were outside doesn't mean there was an exception to the decorations. The trees were lined with lights, wreaths hung on each door that you passed.

Carlos stops in front of a bench and you take that as your cue to sit. You do, the chill breeze sends a shiver down your spine.

A sip of your wine was taken in hopes of warming you out but there wasn't much hope there.

He seems to notice your shivering, setting his glass down before slipping off his jacket. Carlos carefully slips it over your shoulders.

"You didn't-" "I can't sit by and let you freeze, my mother raised me better than that."

You hum, thanking him quietly as you two drank your wine in silence. It was you that broke the silence; "you were fantastic this year."

"Thank you," he smiles, his cheeks flushed red the tiniest bit but the chilled air and wine to be blamed for that. "I didn't know you watched."

"I try too, I keep up when I'm not busy with work." You tell him, looking around the yard.

Carlos takes that moment to look at you; red dress that suited your complexion and body as if it was made for you and you only, your makeup and hair done to a T - something he always admired about you, all tied together with the black bow that held up half of your hair.

"Y/n," he whispers into the silence.

Glancing at the man, you jut your chin towards him. "Hm?"

"You look beautiful."

Now your cheeks have flushed red and you both know it's not the wine nor the cold wind blowing around the yard. "Thank you." You whispered.

"It's my favourite look, y'know."

Head cocked to the side, you looked over at him. "What is?"

"When you get all red and quiet, it's sweet. You look so.. innocent."

You can't help the giggle, shaking your head. "You almost sound nervous there, Carlos."

"I am," he chuckles, chewing at his bottom lip for a moment.

"No way," you laughed, nudging his shoulder with yours. "You ? Nervous? No way."

Carlos nods, smiling at you. It falls quiet between the two of you, the bells from the cathedral ring, signalling that evening mass was over. His hand rested next to yours on the bench, his pinky brushing against yours. You take the soft touch as a cue to interlock your fingers with his.

He squeezes your hand gently, smiling at you.

"¡Carlos! ¿Dónde estás?" (carlos! where are you?) You can hear Reyes shout from around the corner, her voice carrying through the silence.

Carlos takes that as his cue to head in, his hand still interlocked with yours as he stands. He leans down, his lips pressed to yours for a quick kiss.

Your cheeks are as red as the lipstick that was faint against his lips.

"Feliz Navidad, y/n."

[glystenangel]

Lovesick Idiots

Soft!Gojo x Shy!GN Reader (Canonverse)

tags/warnings: 18+ blog, but this story’s pure fluff, gojo has the flu, you’re a secretary at jjk tech, you’re both crushing on each other, slight angst, kissin (ish), cuddling, lots of comfort and fluff<333333

summary: you take care of gojo when he’s sick and he can’t seem to hold back anymore

loosely based on one of my hc posts!

~4k

thanks for reading and enjoy <3

_________________

When Shoko tells you Gojo has been out with the flu, you almost don’t believe her.

“Are you serious? I just thought he was on a mission for the last few days!”

She sighs, swiveling her chair away from where you two are sharing an improvised lunch of leftover juice boxes from the cafeteria and a split open bag of chips on her desk. Sun rays catch between the tree branches outside of the window, and the dilapidating shadows dance over Shoko as she spins her chair back and forth between the glass panes and you.

“I’m literally- well, basically a doctor. I just dropped off meds for him the other day. Go check for yourself, I’m sure he’d love a visit from you too.” She suggests, giving you a sidelong glance as she takes a cigarette and her lighter out of her coat pocket.

“What do you mean by that?” You scowl at her, fully aware of her insinuation. You run the point of your shoe over the outlines of the floor tiles, willing the butterflies in your stomach to tame their excited flutters at Shoko’s claim.

Ever since you joined Jujutsu Tech as a secretary, it seemed as though Gojo thought of you as his personal assistant. Frankly, at first he annoyed the hell out of you, with his pompous attitude and copious amounts of paperwork for all of his missions. However, he would occasionally bring you a souvenir from his travels or leave a small snack on your desk as thanks, oftentimes a sticky note nabbed from your desk drawer with a silly drawing left on top. The kind gestures would chip away at your heart with every instance, and your tolerance for him eventually grew as well. He seemed to catch on to this, and he would often spend class breaks trying to get a smile out of you. He would claim he had never seen it despite making one appear on your face whenever you conversed, and you would always roll your eyes and tell him to get back to teaching. You had to admit you had developed a borderline pathetic crush on the white haired man, with his bright cerulean eyes and obvious charm. It was difficult to deny him when he leaned over your desk, asking about your day and coyly flirting with you to get a lollipop from the bowl you kept in your drawer for the students. Even with his blindfold or sunglasses on, you sometimes felt his gaze sweeping over your face for far too long. Although, it was probably just your imagination.

“You know what I mean.” Shoko coolly returns your stare as she slides the window open, “Everyone knows that idiot likes you, and that you like him. For some reason.”

Your cheeks immediately heat, “He doesn’t like me. And you have to admit he is kinder than he lets on, and very handsome.”

You sometimes saw him come in fresh from a mission, a bored and almost numb look on his face. Although he would treat you the same as usual, you could tell something was breaking beneath his constant displays of power and invincibility. You had called him out on it once, and to your surprise he had placed his hand on your head with a dreary fog in his eyes. The weight of it seemed greater than you had anticipated, as if every bone in his body was dense with a grief that threatened to seep out at any moment.

“Have you ever had a best friend?”

When you silently nodded, he had sighed and removed his hand from your head, resting his elbows along the edge of the table and looking at the ground. The dark fabric of his sorcerer’s uniform broke out in crisp folds where he bent his frame against the counter, and his voice was unusually small when he spoke.

“Me too, once.”

You had carefully patted the broad angle of his shoulder at the news, “I don’t know what happened to your friend, but you seem like the type to bottle things up, whether out of duty or the need to always put on a brave face. You’re only human though, so go easy on yourself.”

“I’m not a human, I’m a sorcerer. A weapon against curses. The strongest.” He had said, a bitter grimace spreading across his lips.

The uncharacteristic acidity in his words had you taken aback, but you kept your calm gaze on his jaded one.

“To me, you’re the strongest because you still have your humanity. A heart, and a good one at that. Being strong at all times is an impossibility, even with your gifts. Though I know you try to be anyway, despite acknowledging that fact.” 

You paused for a moment, the air stilling between you both, “I don’t mean to offend you-”

“No, finish what you have to say. I’m listening.” Gojo shifted his posture, keenly tilting his head towards you.

His devoted attention and proximity, as slight as they were, ignited something in your chest.

You permitted yourself to continue speaking, carefully regarding the man before you, “What I mean to say is that your ability to be strong ultimately relies on the inevitability of your weakness. You’re a teacher for that reason, right? To help the students establish strength from their current weaknesses, and ultimately better the sorcerer world? Don’t neglect your humanity, Gojo, I think it really suits you.”

He didn’t say anything for a long stretch of time, squeezing a large hand around his cheeks and puckering his lips out in ponderance. Then, he had let out an entertained laugh.

“You’re so cute.” The tall man ruffled your hair, and you had watched in confusion as he walked away to meet with the elders. His conscience appeared to be lighter, and your eyes had worriedly trailed after him until he disappeared into the other room, hoping he could sense that you would send him any extra strength you possessed if he ever needed it. 

After that, he always seemed to seek you out when he was in a similar state. Even when you weren’t having a great day either, you both managed to be smiling after talking to each other for a handful of moments. 

Shoko scoffs, “I’ve known Satoru for years, he’s as unhinged as they come. I’m happy if you’re both happy though.”

“What is there to be happy about? Nothing’s going to happen.” You dismiss her words with a wave of your hand. 

Sure you considered each other as friends now, but you always assumed he treated you the same as he would anyone else. Gojo was meant for greatness, for impacting the sorcerer world and its history, he couldn’t possibly place you in any sort of mutual importance. As much as you told yourself that, you couldn’t resist craving his presence and hoping against hope.

“Oh really? So you’re not going to his apartment after school lets out?” She quirks up a brow, blowing out a stream of gray smoke before pocketting her lighter.

You give her a scathing stare, popping a potato chip into your mouth and giving it a hard chew, “Absolutely not.”

_____________________

As soon as you park your car across from Gojo’s apartment, regret begins filling your stomach.

“I should really think things through before doing them.”

You barely finish the mournful thought when your phone rings, high pitched and incessant.

“Hello?” You don’t even look at the screen to check who it is, your gut twisting with recognition at the energy behind the static.

“Hey, did you come to visit me?” Gojo drawls on the other side of the line. 

His voice instantly irritates you and makes your heartbeat fasten simultaneously. You can almost feel the bastard peering between his blinds at your rigid loitering on the curb. Damn him and his six eyes.

“Is that a problem?” You question, hoping he can sense your glare as you open the side door. It clicks open with ease, and you nearly misstep when Gojo heartily laughs.

“Not at all.” He coos, and you can practically hear the shiteating grin on his face.

“Good, I’m coming in.” You pick up a container of hot soup from where it was precariously riding in shotgun before shutting the door and making your way to the apartment entrance.

“The door’s already open.”

When you make it to the door, you see Gojo with his cellphone poised next to his ear and holding the door open for you. The sight of him in black sweatpants and a cream colored knit sweater shouldn’t make you flustered, but it does. The ends of his messy hair brush at the top of the doorframe, and even in his disheveled state he’s unnervingly attractive. His shoulder is leaned against the doorframe, his slender form emanating a confidence and power that you know he meticulously maintains in spite of his easy going demeanor. He has on his sunglasses too, though behind the tinted lenses you can still see the shimmering sparkle of his eyes and the long white eyelashes framing them as he scans your figure. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be sick?” You arch a brow, deftly taking off your shoes as he runs a hand through his pale locks.

“Oh, yeah. That.” He blinks innocently, as if he actually forgot, “I am.”

“You’re hopeless.” You shake your head at his nonchalant demeanor.

A look far too smug for his circumstances curls across his defined features, “Good thing you’re here to take care of me.”

You send him a withering stare, and he raises his hands up in surrender.

“Really, I feel better with you here.” He claims, and your stomach does a flip at his flirtatiousness.

“Huh, guess I brought this soup for nothing.” You lift the container into his line of sight, and he immediately starts coughing.

“Actually, I’m very ill. You’re probably gonna have to feed me. Look.” He holds his large palms out with feigned shakiness as you straighten your shoes in the foyer, not believing him for a second.

“Come here.” You stand up and place a hand to his forehead, “Wait, you’re actually burning up. How long have you had a fever?”

He mimics you, placing his hand over your forehead, “Since I met you I think.”

You almost scold him, but then his glasses slide down his nosebridge and you notice the red tip of his nose and the bags under his eyes. Although his cheeks do seem a little more sunken in from being ill, the defined cut of his jaw and the pretty perch of his sharp nose over his dewy cupid’s bow is enough to create a deep sense of longing within you. You want to hold him, and some part of you instinctively realizes that he probably needs it more than you could ever truly know. 

Gojo sniffles after a moment, and you drop your hand to pick his own off of your forehead, “Go to bed, now.” 

“Aye, aye captain.” He salutes you before walking off, and you can’t help but softly chuckle at the sway of his tall figure as he stumbles into the hallway.

Padding into the kitchen, you begin searching for a bowl to reheat the soup in. You had been to his place a couple of times for get togethers with the rest of the Jujutsu Tech staff, but this was your first time visiting alone. He occasionally volunteered his place for such gatherings, and part of you wonders if it is because he was lonely after being raised surrounded by people and then ultimately becoming the last standing member of the Gojo clan. His apartment is quite large, and more of a penthouse than anything. The floor is all dark hardwood with tall ivory ceilings, and the windows are draped over with dark gray curtains. It’s clean, minimally yet tastefully decorated with luxurious furniture and amenities, and you expect nothing less from such an esteemed man like Gojo.

“Gotcha.” You grab a speckled ceramic bowl from the second cabinet you try, quickly dumping the soup in and microwaving it. Once you fish out a spoon from a drawer and equip yourself with napkins, you follow the direction Gojo went until you find yourself looking down at his prone form clutching a pillow to his chest in bed. There’s cooling cups of tea on his nightstand with the teabags murking up the bottoms, and the wastebasket that you guess normally goes by the desk next to his bedroom window has been pushed to the side of his bed. The plastic bag is stuffed with crumpled tissues and cough drop wrappers. The air is rather warm, with a humidifier sitting on his dresser drawers and blowing a river of steam directly at the bed.

“Gojo?” You grab his desk chair and slide it to the bedside, sitting and pressing your knees to the sheet lined edge of his mattress.

“Hm?” He flits his eyes up at hearing your voice, and then deliriously grins, “Oh good, you’re here.”

“You let me in.” You gently remind him, contemplating how he had managed to take care of himself in such a feverish state. Come to think of it, you hardly remember him telling you if he had anyone that looked out for him now that his family was gone.

“Oh, right.” 

“Is it okay if you sit up for a bit? I brought soup, I think it’ll help.” You present the steaming broth to him again, and he languidly stretches before scooting up to rest his shoulder blades against his cushy pillows.

After he faithfully finishes the soup, you have him take another dose of the flu medication Shoko had told you she dropped off for him. Then, you take the remaining bowl and leftover tea cups to wash them. You even empty the trash, ensuring to wipe down any surface and washing your hands. Gojo watches you as he slumps in bed, eyes lazily following your movements as he lets out sporadic coughs or sniffles. Once you feel that his room has taken on an organized enough state for him to easily navigate as he regains his health, you sink back into your seat beside him.

“Alright, how are you feeling now?” You check his temperature again, and smile when his forehead is noticeably cooler.

“Great, thanks to you.” He crouches down to meet your eyes, the purr in his voice tickling your ears.

You flick his forehead, and he winces.

“You’re acting…different. Not that I mind, but are you sure you’re alright Gojo?”

“I always feel like this around you.”

“Like what? Sick?” The idea makes you scoff, since he was the one that made your gut wrench upon the mere sight of him.

“No, weak.” He answers absentmindedly, eyes falling to his palms, “But…I don’t mind it. It’s actually nice.”

The sentiment tugs your heart strings, but you try to think rationally. It was probably the medication, or the flu affecting his brain. You don’t want to make assumptions and entertaining any other idea would be unhealthy considering the way Gojo had eroded the wall around your heart months ago.

You mull over your words before mumbling, “I think you should go to bed Gojo.”

“I can’t, I’d rather talk to you. Frankly, I thought I was already dreaming.” 

“Stop messing around, you need to rest.” You insist, frowning as you fold the blankets over his lap. 

Gojo lightly shakes his head, his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. You’re afraid he’ll agitate his flu with such sudden and uncalled for vigor. Even so, he presses his fists into his sides, a shallow scowl punctuating his mouth.

“It’s not a joke!”

Gojo’s protest astounds you, and then he says it again, more gently and as if in apology, “It’s not. I’m not joking.”

The resigned tone lurching along his throat forces your lips to part in surprise, and the entire room seems to hold its breath when he turns away from you. The lines of his back are tense, and you can see him struggling to breathe from the ragged movement of his shoulders. You had seen Gojo upset a handful of times, but never like this. Without thinking, you reach out a trembling hand, hoping he won’t break if you touch him with anything less than the utmost delicacy.

You momentarily forget that his shields may be up, and you only remember the possibility when the warmth of your hand somehow finds stable rest on the center of his back. It shocks you, and Gojo must feel your arm stiffen in epiphany when he turns, sliding your hand across his back and then catching it in his as he turns to give you a meaningful stare.

He rubs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, briefly admiring the way your hands fit together before his eyes are drawn to yours again. Specks of periwinkle and the sky reflect in his irises, a glow so brittle and beautiful that it makes your heart ache.

“I’m in love with you, you know that?”

The honesty clutching his cadence stifles any speech you had left, and you can see the panic spike in the opalescent blue of Gojo’s eyes as more admissions hurriedly spill past his lips.

“I never really understood love at first sight or that supposed gut feeling one has where they feel that they’ll eventually fall for someone upon meeting them. At least, that was until I met you. I fall more in love with you every day. I can’t stop it. I tried.”

His last statement is agonized, like he betrayed himself and more importantly you, by not controlling his emotions. 

“Talking to you is never boring, and I worry about you all the time when I’m away, even if I can still see you. Isn’t that pathetic?”

At his question, your words return to you and you pull his hand closer, adrenaline coursing through your body from being allowed to hold even just a part of the man you had never thought would spare you anything more than friendly conversations.

“I don’t think it is.” You encase his hand in both of yours, praying your genuity comes across and that he can feel the pulse in your palm quickening from every word he utters. 

“That’s another thing. Like I said, with you…I don’t feel the need to be strong. I can be weak, and not feel bad about it. Hell, I can just be. I’m…really happy you came to visit me, I don’t permit very many people to see me like this. I can’t.”

“Gojo, you have the flu. It’s only natural.”

“I know, but I used to always hide when I was sick as a kid and the habit’s kind of stuck. I hated anyone knowing I was sick. Still do, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, you’re safe with me. You deserve protecting too.” You caress his cheek, and the skin there is so smooth. He silently absorbs the touch, eyes closed. Seeing his innate beauty up close is like staring into the light of the sun, and you lower your head in embarrassment, “That probably doesn’t mean much coming from someone like me, but-”

“No, it means a lot. And I believe you.” Tears brim at his eyes, and your heart breaks at the same time his voice does.

“Is that okay? Can I do that please?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Your hand cradles the back of his head, and he automatically brings his face to rest in the nape of your neck. His hand leaves the comforting envelope of your own, and you feel him settle his arms in the curves of your waist to bring you closer instead. It feels perfectly natural and right, like a star finding their place in the comforting darkness of the night sky. You know Gojo will have to continue shining, but now he can always find reprieve in your arms.

You rub soothing circles over his back, feeling him shudder at your attentive motions and embrace you more tightly. His fingertips dent the soft flesh beneath your clothes, and your heart puddles in the bottom of your chest at his unexpected clinginess.

“I’m here for you, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” 

He draws back with his eyes squeezed shut, furrowing his brows until you start smoothing the skin between his eyebrows and across his cheeks. You keep one hand weaving through the hair on the back of his neck and hold his face in the other, easing Gojo so he can fully relax into your touch. 

“Hey, hey.” You soften your voice, stroking his hair with featherlight touches to accommodate his increasing vulnerability, “It’s okay, Gojo.”

Slowly, he opens his eyes and turns to kiss the inside of your palm.

“Only because it’s you.”

Any semblance of hesitation you had around your heart completely crumbles.

“You know I’m in love with you too, right?” You finally confess, the simple affirmation leaving you sincerely.

The brightest and most genuine smile you’ve ever seen from the sorcerer lights up his face, and he wraps you in a hug so blissfully that you feel your cheeks warm as they squish against his broad chest.

“God, being sick is the worst. I’d do anything Heaven asks of me to kiss you right now.”

“Better not, I don’t want to miss work.” You peer up at him with a determined look, but you melt at the sight of a pout jutting from his lips, “We can cuddle though if you’d like.”

He nods with a sniffle and you laugh as he pulls you down into the bed with him. You spend a good portion of time holding him and massaging his head to soothe his congestion and overall grogginess, and he gratefully sinks into your caring administrations. When he’s not snuggled into the crook of your neck, he reels back every so often to trace over every facet of your features. You can feel his eyes skirting along the skin, especially the curve of your lips.

“Don’t even think about it.” You warn.

“I won’t, I promise. I just really want to...” He whines, and it’s so endearing that you accept that Gojo will be ruining so much of your future resolve with just one look or plead.

You sit up, covering his mouth with your hand and then planting a chaste kiss where you estimate his lips to be laying underneath your palm.

“There? Happy?” A pointed look leaves you, and you raise a brow in askance.

His eyes briefly remain widened in shock, and then they soften significantly. Moonlight rippling over an azure sea. To your satisfaction, he nods. 

You give him a shy glance and move to lower your hand before yelping with surprise as Gojo grabs your waist and flips you onto your back. The lack of effort he expends to do so has you gasping, and you all but fall apart when you see how Gojo is staring down at you. His eyes are trained on your lips, and he has both hands pinned at the sides of your head. You’ve never seen him so focused, and you have to remind yourself not to give in nearly a thousand times before you see him dipping his head downwards.

He covers your lips, and then your forehead, each cheek, and your nose as he kisses the makeshift barrier of his fingers against your skin.

The brief yet longing pecks have you so stunned and breathless that you can hardly react outside of instinct, closing your eyes and shivering whenever he comes closer.

Then, he starts slowing down, and you feel blood rush up your body. His white lashes fan down as he repeatedly presses kiss after kiss onto his hand while your lips are mere centimeters below.

“We have to stop.” You catch his wrist in a trembling grip, though your protest is so unconvincingly soft it makes you embarrassed.

A gentle exhale parts his lips, and you can see his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat as his gaze remains transfixed on the enticing shape of your mouth.

“Okay, okay.” He quietly acquiesces, tucking his fingers up and behind your ear.

“Come here.” You laugh goodnaturedly at his eagerness and pat your chest, where he reluctantly settles on top of you again.

He lets out a defeated sigh, but obediently nuzzles into your warmth. After a moment, quiet fills the room, and you can feel yourself starting to drift off as you loosely scratch your hands across the muscular plane of Gojo's back.

Sleep tugs at the edges of your consciousness, and you guess that Gojo is also falling asleep when you vaguely hear the lightest whisper against your neck.

“I hope you let me love you forever.”

Before the world darkens completely, you manage to murmur a reply.

“As long as you let me love you back.”

_________________

The next morning, you blearily open your eyes and then jolt awake at not recognizing where you are.

“Morning!”

You whip your head around, and your visage falls upon Gojo beaming at you with a coffee in hand and his arm bracing him against the doorframe.

“Good morning.” You do your best to mirror his expression, but you must not have come close based on how Gojo wheezes at your attempt.

“Someone’s still a little sleepy.” He strides over to you, stroking a hand down your hair and then bending to kiss the top of your head.

“Hey! No kissing! You’re still sick.” You swat him away, and he happily chuckles.

“Actually, I’m all better.” He holds out his hands, and even strikes a pose before taking a sip of his precariously full coffee.

“What? How?” You rub your eyes and yawn.

“It usually doesn’t take me long to recover. Shoko’s medication helped too, and your nursing, of course.”

“Huh. Alright, great. We should probably get going to work-”

As soon as you try to finish your sentence, coughs erupt from your throat and you can hardly get a word out.

When the fit is over, you and Gojo simultaneously meet each other’s eyes with surprise.

The corners of his mouth lift into a smirk, and he places a hand on your forehead as he regards you with a smug hum.

“Looks like it’s your turn to be taken care of.”

_________________

End Notes:

just felt like writing something nice for Gojo :) <3

[kinnbig]

so, who is the most pathetic? big, vegas or kim?

obsessed with this question thank u anon i am going to have to approach this very scientifically and rate their patheticness levels with super incredibly objective patheticness points

Big -

pathetic:

in unrequited love with his boss +2

roasted by Kim for being in unrequited love with his boss +1

got demoted cause some random guy asked for his job +1

put in his place by Chan while trying to put the new guy in his place +1

not invited to the Hum Bar shenanigans +1

lectured on homophobia by a 'straight' guy (while gay) +1

fell off his motorbike and was real angy about it +1

"it's because of me. I couldn't help Khun Kinn" +2

looks like he's on the verge of tears 24/7 +1

sad little hair strand +1

literally died +5

not pathetic:

captain of the Tawan hate squad -2

mean girl swag -1

beat up that guy and was hot about it -1

picked up Porsche by his hair and was really hot about it -2

total: 11

Vegas -

pathetic:

psychosexually obsessed with his cousin +1

all the daddy issues +2

rejected by Porsche +1

tried to bring Porsche a rose but had to leave with it because his cousin woke up from his coma and pretended to be allergic +1

Tankhun smacked him with a tray that one time +1

kicked out of his own bathroom so his cousin could give the guy he was trying to seduce a handjob +3

Gun smacked that book out of his hand +1

got punched sooo many times +1

used his prisoner as a therapist +2

fell in love with said prisoner after one (1) free therapy session +1

the entire hedgehog saga +3

"shoot me!" +1

the entire failed coup +2

"here's how I win." ... *loses* +1

not pathetic:

cool motorbike -1

all the murder/torture -2

so so many cunty outfits -1

did actually get laid -1

ate ass on-screen -2

was probably fucking Ken (good for him) -1

was turned into swiss cheese and lived -1

total: 12

Kim -

pathetic:

actually has a murder board +1

said murder board is behind a giant photo of himself +1

conducts secret investigations instead of communicating with his brothers like a normal person +2

didn't even solve the mystery he was investigating +2

so incredibly emotionally unavailable +1

saw a kid with an entire wall full of his photographs and went "...I wonder if this guy really likes me? maybe I should make him write a love song to check" +1

is the cheek kiss girlie in the fuck nasty show +1

ghosted a child +3

emotionally defeated by a smiley face fried egg +1

on Chay's blocklist +1

led Chay on for an investigation, ghosted him, cried into his polaroids when Chay didn't take him back +2

tried to apologise to Chay by gifting him dead bodies and songs instead of using his words +1

not pathetic:

broke into a mafia boss' office -1

out mean girlied the mean girlie (was mean to Big) -1

is maybe a celebrity -1

the entire bar fight scene -3

total: 11

and there you have it! it's so very close, but Vegas is officially the most pathetic by one (1) patheticness point. i will not be taking constructive criticism at this time

more very scientific kinnporsche research