#i tried to make the old ones look shitty and blown out

[cruucigerglobus]

KLOKTOBER DAY 17

give someone a brand new look

*tattoos your murderface*

i think he would be such a huge american traditional fan, he’s also got some shitty stick & pokes from probably the preklok era.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt. 55 (12.2)

part 1 | part 54 | ao3

A cop picks him up just outside Dinwiddie, two and a half miles from where he left his car on the side of the road. She’s plump and squat, with red hair and a midwestern accent, like Mrs. Henderson if she grew up in Minnesota.

“Wisconsin,” she corrects. “Hop in, I’ll take you to Lorraine’s.”

“Thanks, Officer…?”

“Greene.”

Steve accepts the offer because his fingertips are so cold they’re starting to burn through his leather gloves, and as she drives them to the diner in town he explains the flat tire — debris flying off an eighteen wheeler, a crazy loud clang followed by a flapping thud-thud-thud, the smell of burnt rubber as he eased onto the shoulder only to remember that he never replaced his busted tire jack.

“Coulda been worse,” Officer Greene shrugs, looking at him with a small grin and tapping a gloved finger against her temple. “Coulda hit ya in the noggin.”

“True," Steve chuckles, "could’ve gone four for four on the concussions.” He has to cover his laugh with a fake cough because he gets a flash of concerned crazy eyes in response, which is pretty fair, actually. Sometimes he forgets the details of his life all sound insane. “Uh. Sports," he amends. "I play— yeah.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. Steve watches the woods, the shadows reaching like blunt fingers over the hills, and the snow turns to freezing rain and pools in all the potholes as they splash down the sad main street, past a junkyard and an old schoolhouse, past boarded-up windows and short, stubby buildings full of failing small businesses. Lorraine’s is a hole in the wall at the end of a neglected strip, half the bulbs on the sign blown out so it just reads Rain’s in flickering yellow light, and Steve thinks that's fitting because this place is shit. This place is shit, and he feels like shit, and he’s going to have to drive home to his shitty trailer and see Eddie’s van parked across the street or maybe it still won't be there at all and he— he fucking—

"Easy," Officer Greene says. "You'll chew a hole through your lip doin' that." She parks the car and turns to him, squinting. "You okay?"

Steve pinches the end of his nose.

In the diner, she slides into the booth opposite him and insists on buying him coffee and a short stack, because, "Well, no offense, young man, but you seem like you may be goin' through it a bit."

Steve winces over his coffee, cradling the warm cup with both hands. “Yeah, well,” he sniffs, “my, uh…" Your what, exactly? "I got dumped.”

He doesn’t know why he gives her the details — the empty bed, the sticky note. Sorry. Something in her eyes makes him feel like he can trust her, and when they finish their meal she reaches over and lays a hand over his. Tells him it sounds like he’s got a lot of other people who love him; tells him he should think about giving one of them a call.

With a lump in his throat and fresh tears in his lashes, he fishes quarters from his pocket and trudges over to the phone. Dials one of the few numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello,” Claudia greets, “Henderson residence.”

A truly ugly noise escapes him, wet and thick with phlegm.

“Hello?” she tries again. "Dusty, is that you? Are you okay?"

Steve’s not about to cry where all the waitresses can see. “Hey, Ma,” he croaks when he feels like he can breathe. “It's Steve. Can I... do you mind if I stay with you for a bit?” 

—

part 56

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[ismartiegirl300-blog]

First Dance

Announcements: I have a requests box open on my profile! (I think... I’m still working on how tumblr works). I write for MHA, Harry Potter, Attack on Titan and Naruto so feel free to send me some requests!! 

Summary: You’ve known Bakugou since your UA days but at the alumni dance things feel a little different between you two. Flashbacks included. Bakugou pov mostly. 

Warnings: Fluff! Fem reader. Pining. 

WORDCOUNT: 2254

***

Bakugo tried to loosen his tie, it was hot in the dance hall. It was good to see Class 1A back together again, even if he would never admit it. Class 1B on the other hand... damn he wanted to strangle that pompous straw haired copy cat Monoma. He took a deep breath and focused back on the group he was talking to. 

Kirishima was talking animatedly to Shoji, one arm around Mina. They took a while to get together after graduation but Bakugo was glad it happened, he was tired of hearing Kirishima pine after her. Half and Half was busy talking to invisichick Hagakure and Sero. Denki was scheming in a corner with Mineta and slowly Bakugo’s gaze glided around the circle, over Jirou and right onto you. He felt a tightness in his chest and for some reason the room felt warmer. 

Damn it. He thought he was over this stupid crush. It had been three years since graduation and he hadn’t seen you at all since you just came back from doing work overseas. He hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to you since your return. He had kept putting it off. His eyes lingered on you, your smile and that stupid dress you were wearing. 

Although you were deep in conversation with your old friend Jirou, you couldn’t help but feel someone’s gaze on you. Your eyes slide from Jirou’s face, over her shoulder and you make eye contact with Bakugo. In the time you had been gone, you heard that he had been climbing the charts and was now the #2 hero, right behind Midoriya. You had never really gotten over your high school crush on Bakugo and you received notifications on your phone anytime a news story came out with his name on it. You felt your cheeks turn red under his gaze and quickly turned your attention back to Jirou. 

“Something on your mind?” Bakugo had been so focused on you that he hadn’t noticed Kirishima walk right up to him and started looking back and forth between Bakugo and you. 

“FUCK! Shitty hair! You can’t just walk up unannounced. I could have blown you to bits...” 

“C’mon man! Just go talk to her.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t be like that Bakugo... remember the last time we were at something like this?” 

“No.” 

He said no but Bakugo had been beating himself up for three years over it. 

---

It was the graduation dance. The last night before everyone started going their own separate ways. Bakugo had plans to go to Tokyo and start his own hero agency right away. You on the other hand had plans to work overseas and “pay back” in a sense, the foreign powers that helped Japan during its struggle with All For One. You wouldn’t be gone forever, just three years, however there was a certain someone you were hoping would try to make you stay. If he had asked, you would have stayed. 

The party had lasted forever. You had danced all night until you had to take your shoes off because your feet were so sore. The girls kept you busy all night with the usual scheming, gossip, photos, bathroom trips and of course the group dancing. You were gonna miss these girls. You couldn’t think about it or you would start crying. Bakugo on the other hand was acting strangely tonight. He kept walking close to you, acting like he had something to say but then you would make eye contact and he would frown and walk away. You wondered if you had done something to piss him off... Well whatever it was, you might never know. Your flight left in two hours and your ride to the airport was on its way. You heard a slow song start and instead of awkwardly waiting around for someone to ask you to dance, you decided to slip out of the dance and wait for your ride. You might not be able to handle all of the goodbyes anyways. 

At some point in the night Bakugo couldn’t find you. He had been working up the courage to ask you to slow dance all night. He requested three slow songs already. For the first one he just couldn’t get the words out and ended up telling you that you had something on your face. The second time that stupid bird asked you to dance and Bakugo just had to sit and watch from the side of the dance hall. He finally convinced the DJ to give him one more slow song and now you were nowhere to be found. Bakugo was scanning the room looking for you and just before he could give up, Ochako walked right up to him and asked him to dance. He reluctantly accepted. 

“It’s going to be so weird not seeing everyone together anymore. I don’t think I’m ready.” Ochako was trying to make small talk but Bakugo could barely hear her. He was focused on finding you out in the crowd.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask Y/N to dance...” Ochako said slyly. 

“Huh??” Bakugo’s attention snapped back down to her. 

“I mean, you like her right? Everyone says you like her.” 

“Tchh.” Bakugo looked away but his ears turned red. He didn’t know how everyone knew but he was gonna kill Shitty Hair if he found out he was the leak. 

“She left you know.” 

“What?” Again his attention was 100% on Ochako. 

“She slipped out when the song started. She’s probably on the way to the airport soon.” 

“Already?” Bakugo felt the blood drain out of his face. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t asked you to dance yet. He hadn’t told you that you looked pretty in your dress, he hadn’t asked you to walk through the gardens with him, he hadn’t had the opportunity to finally confess to you... to maybe kiss you. 

“Go get her.” Ochako had stopped dancing. 

Bakugo looked down at her a little stunned. 

“Go! Go get your girl Dynamight!” She said it louder and caught the attention of others. Kirishima stopped dancing with Mina and looked over to Bakugo. 

“WELL? Go after her!” Mina shouted. 

“C’mon think like a man!” Kirishima added. 

“Ooh! It would be so romantic!” Momo said enthusiastically. 

“SHUT IT!” Bakugo yelled but he was already running out of the doors. 

The brisk night air hit his face as he catapulted himself out of the dance hall and headed towards the front gates.  

“Damnit! This is taking too long!” 

Bakugo stripped off his jacket and tie and threw them behind him onto the dirt path. He rolled up his sleeves and used his quirk to catapult himself into the air. He blasted his way to the front gates in less than two minutes and just in time. 

You were about to get into the car. You had the passenger door open when Bakugo fell out of the sky and skidded to a stop right at the UA gates. His hair was disheveled and he was wiping his hands on his pants. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Y/N!” 

“Bakugo?” 

Reality caught up to Bakugo in that moment. He didn’t know what to say... “Come back and dance with me.”?? That would be ridiculous. 

“Uhh... I... are you... leaving?” He managed to force out some words, some question, even if that question had a million other questions behind it. 

“Yeah...” You gave him a confused look. Wasn’t it obvious? 

“Oh. Off to the States right away then?” 

“My flight leaves in like two hours.” 

“Right. Well, I just wanted to say...” Bakugo was at war with himself. He had to say he was afraid. He had faced villains on very power level but somehow this was more terrifying then every one of those encounters combined. He wanted to say so many things, 

“I’ve loved you ever since I met you! I wanted to dance with you! Your dress looks amazing! I’ve admired you as a student as a hero but mostly as a person. You’re beautiful inside and out! You were the first to be kind to me and I want to protect your kindness for the rest of my life! AND MOST OF ALL I DON’T WANT YOU TO LEAVE!!” 

But Bakugo didn’t say any of those things. 

“You wanted to say...?” You asked. Bakugo had stopped in the middle of his sentence and was giving you a wide eyed look. 

“Yeah I just wanted to say... good luck.” He opened his mouth again as though to add on, but he snapped it shut again. 

“Oh...well...” You can’t say you weren’t disappointed. But it was always a naïve hope that Bakugo might share your feelings. You quickly smiled to cover your disappointment. 

Bakugo watched as you smiled and ran towards him throwing your arms around his neck. He felt the breath leave his body and his arms clamped around your waist and he buried his face in your shoulder. 

“Thank you Bakugo.” and with that you were leaving his arms, getting into the car and slipping away. 

---

Bakugo had spent the last three years replaying everything that went wrong that night. He had tried to move on, he went on so many dates in the first year that he lost count. But he never could make it to the second date. He tried focusing on his career and he rose pretty quickly after he gave up on dating. But it was hard, playing wingman for Kirishima and Kaminari, being a groomsman at Izuku and Ochako’s wedding and watching you post about your foreign adventures, only wishing he could be there with you. It made his blood boil thinking about all the people you could be meeting who might catch your interest. All because he was too afraid to make a move that night. 

“You do.” Bakugo’s attention snapped back to the present as Kirishima said this. Bakugo merely scoffed. 

“I know you remember Bakugo. You got so wasted afterwards and all you could do was whine about how you let her go. Actually... it’s the only thing you talk about after you get drunk...” 

“Shut up or I’ll shut you up Red.” Bakugo warned. 

“Alright... But I’m gonna ask the DJ for a slow song and if you don’t ask her to dance I’m gonna tell everyone about that time two years ago you fought that laughing gas villain and-” Kirishima couldn’t finish his sentence because he had to dodge Bakugo’s oncoming blow and run to the DJ’s table before Bakugo could catch him.

Damnit. Bakugo watched as Kirishima talked animatedly to the DJ and pointed to his phone. The music started playing moments later. Kirishima was right though. Tonight he wouldn’t mess up and let you slip away again. He turned and found you still talking to Jirou, right where he left you. He strode over to you, blatantly interrupting your conversation and held out his hand. 

“Dance with me.” 

You looked up at him with a look of shock and he realized he still had no sense of tact even after all these years. Your shock faded into a grin and he felt relief flood his body. 

“Alright.” You took his hand and he pulled you in and slid his other arm around your waist. You began to sway to the music and everything else seemed to fade away. 

“How was your time away?” Bakugo asked his head tilting down. 

“It was amazing! Oh you would have loved it! There was so many things to see, so many landmarks and museums! I learned so much! Oh and I met a lot of people too!” Your face lit up as you spoke. 

“Oh really?” Bakugo felt his heart drop at that last part. 

“Yeah! I wished- I mean I wish you were there to see it.” 

“Hah, maybe next time princess...”

“Princess? Are you saying I look like a princess?” 

Bakugo turned red. 

“You wish y/n.” 

“Oh come on, is it so hard to say I look good? I put some effort in you know.” 

“Tchh..” 

You were both silent. You didn’t know what to say next. Maybe you flirted a little too much with him. You were just so excited to see him again, you couldn’t help it! 

“You don’t look good.” 

“What?!” 

“You look great.” Bakugo said blushing and avoiding eye contact. You leaned up so your lips were close to his ear. 

“You look pretty great yourself.” 

Bakugo couldn’t help it. A shiver went down his body and he could feel his face turn as red as a tomato. He stopped dancing. He pulled back and looked at you. 

“Y/n...” 

Then he leaned down, his hand cupping your face and he gazed into your eyes as if asking for permission. Permission which you gave. Suddenly his lips were on yours and he was kissing you. He was kissing you like he was drinking up your soul, pulling your face up into his, his lips surprisingly tender. He handled you like you were precious. It was nothing like how you imagined kissing Bakugo would be but it was amazing. You broke off the kiss when you started hearing the cheers. 

“Man we’ve been waiting forever for you guys to do that!” Sero yelled across all the cheering. 

Bakugo didn’t even care. He just grinned down at you. 

“You’re telling me Soy Sauce...” Bakugo said but only loud enough for you to hear. 

[smashboxgirl26]

i feel stupid (and contagious)

college student! dabi x fem! bass player! reader summary: “concerts” for random bands at little bars weren’t exactly dabi’s scene — though a cute bassist might make up for it. part of: @deartouya 's love in the everyday collab!! (apologies i know it took soooo long ;-:) contains: drinking (they're old enough!), general kind of fluff with meet cutes!! word count: 4.9k masterlist

“Concerts” for random bands at little bars weren’t exactly Dabi’s scene.

Their music usually sucked, for one, when they decided to play original songs instead of covers, which was often. The price of a simple bottle of beer was higher since the bar would try to take advantage of the influx of people—since college kids (other than himself) thought it was cool and underground to go see some randos they’d never heard of. And the people were assholes, more than usual at the very least, which he decided he could determine as a resident asshole himself. 

So no, Dabi didn’t end up in the crowd of this “concert” on purpose, being forced to rub elbows with a bunch of strangers while trying to take a sip of his beer. He’d been invited there by his friends to his favorite bar for his birthday, and now he was stuck in the crowd without a table since they all texted that they were going to be late.

(“You need more than one person in your party to be seated at a table, sir,” the hostess had said all the while trying to pretend like she wasn’t staring at Dabi’s tattoos and piercings before directing him towards the bar. 

As if he could give a shit about what she thought.)

The couple smushed right next to him looked like they were ready to jump each other’s bones; they’d bumped into his arm at least five times now as they continued making out, and Dabi grimaced as he tried to scooch away from the saliva-monsters with fail since there was no where he could’ve gone.

At that point, he wasn’t even sure why he hadn’t just blown the whole thing off when it’d already been twenty minutes and his friends hadn’t arrived. He’d been fine hanging out by the bar, but he should’ve suspected something was up when there were more people coming in than usual—he’d just chalked it up to it being a busier-than-normal Friday night. 

Stupid.

Honestly, he should’ve just left when he’d gotten the chance but now it was too crowded to try and push his way out and his phone was constantly buzzing with his “friends” telling him they were almost there.

He couldn’t do much but suck it up and deal with it, at that point. Maybe try and hope the stupid band that was playing was relatively good and that they wouldn’t make him want to claw his ears out. And if they sucked, well, he could just try and hope that he could escape before his friends forced him to stay and make his ears bleed.

Suddenly the crowd was cheering, and Dabi strained his eyes over the crowd to catch the band as they made their way onto the makeshift stage at the back of the bar. Even the couple aggressively making out next to him stopped in their shenanigans as the girl screamed at the top of her lungs—just to the sound of microphone feedback when the lead singer tapped on the mic.

Dabi flinched away from them, deciding to push himself forward in the crowd; he didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever they decided to do next.

“We’re Blood in the Water!” the guy standing at the front of the stage called out before the bar was drowned in more cheers: apparently these people were quite well known. “Thanks for joining us tonight—we hope you all enjoy!” 

That was all it took for him to nod to the drummer sitting behind him to count off the beat, before they jumped straight into Learn to Fly by the Foo Fighters.

Though Dabi hated to admit it, he found himself nodding along to the song, his foot tapping to the beat as the words came out of his lips in habit. They weren’t shitty and he had to commend them for that, even if he was still pissed at the fact he’d been forced to be there in the first place; and it was easy for him to fall into the music as their set went on.

(You couldn’t blame him for actually enjoying the music they played if they were actually good—better than he’d ever admit if he ever did. Not to mention their song choice was impeccable.)

The energy the band was putting into their performance was addicting, especially with the way the crowd around him was responding: shouting the lyrics out at the top of their lungs and jumping on top of each other at fast–paced songs in their excitement, though he was sure there was also a mosh pit somewhere in the middle. The main singer continued to encourage this behavior as he jumped and danced while singing into his mic, but Dabi’s eyes couldn’t help but slide over to the base player standing towards the side of the stage.

You Shook Me All Night Long had her hopping on the balls of her feet as she sang out the chorus with the rest of the band while Teenagers had her headbanging as hard as she probably could while she took on the solo instead of the guitar. Something about her was alluring, and it only seemed to get better when she jumped into the middle of the mosh pit while still playing along to All the Small Things.

It was only during Come as You Are that Dabi was reminded what’d actually happened and why he was actually there, when a tap on his shoulder had him whirling around to find Himiko beaming at him and waving to join the table. 

(As it turned out, everyone had arrived at the same time. How convenient.)

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself out there,” she gave a sly smile while dragging him towards their table.

“They weren’t shit,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m allowed to enjoy non-horrible music.”

“Yeah, but you seemed to be specifically enjoying Y/N’s presence,” he heard her snicker.

Who is she talking about? Is that the bassist?

“What?”

“Don’t lie,” she smirked as they reached the table. “I saw you staring at her, all wide eyed and smiley.”

“Who’s got Dabi smiley?” Tomura looked up from the Nintendo Switch stuck in his grasp, an eyebrow raising as he scooted across the seat after Toga shooed him over the booth so she could sit next to Jin.

“No one,” Dabi rolled his eyes, ignoring the snickering stare Toga was giving him as he stuck himself in the booth next to Tomura. 

“Dabi’s in looooveee,” Himiko sang, ignoring the death glare Dabi was pointing straight after. 

Sometimes he really did wish looks could kill.

“Love?” Jin turned to him with surprise. “You should’ve told me! I hate love.”

“Shut it,” Dabi sneered. “No one’s in love. I was just listening to the music.”

“I knew you would enjoy them!” Himiko cheered. “Sooo, how did you like my birthday present?”

He should’ve known it was planned.

“It was fine,” he rolled his eyes. “...thank you.”

“I half expected him to be gone by the time we got here,” Tomura mused, taking a sip from his beer bottle. 

“If they played shittily, I would’ve.”

 “Y/N’s super good!” Himiko interrupted. “I wouldn’t have planned this all out if they sucked.”

“...who’s Y/N again?” Tomura looked to her boredly.

“She’s the bassist of course,” she chattered on. “I met her in literature last semester, and she’s super nice. We were partners for this project because we sat near each other and she was really fun! Plus, she’s like, really good at writing so she helped me with my final project and I got an A! Isn’t that so sweet of her? And after that we both–”

“Okay we get it,” he waved her off, his attention turning back to Dabi. “She’s got you smiley?” 

“No,” Dabi scoffed. “She’s just good at bass. I was just admiring her–”

“Liar,” she interrupted once more. “He was staring, like full-on-focused on her. He didn’t even know I was–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi glared at her once more. 

(The whole conversation was getting on his nerves. Why was he getting picked on for admiring her skills? They wouldn’t do the same for Tomura.

It was probably just because it was his birthday. His stupid, fucking birthday that he never even celebrated till now.)

“Don’t be rude to Himi!” Jin slammed down his bottle, a finger accusingly pointed towards Dabi.

Himiko was only laughing at the whole display, cackling as she rocked back and forth —Jin calmed down in an instant, seeing as she wasn’t actually being threatened and Dabi only rolled his eyes. 

“Remind me how I know you people again,” he groaned, trying to get the last sip out of his beer bottle before standing up from the booth. “Fuck I need another beer.”

“Get me one too please,” Himiko smiled before going back to whatever game she was playing with Jin. 

He didn’t have much of a choice, only rolling his eyes as he stumbled back towards the counter through the growing crowd of people.

You were playing Smells Like Teen Spirit, and judging by the energy you and the rest of the band were putting into the performance, it was probably the last song of the set. Basic—but you played well enough that it wasn’t a negative point. 

“Two beers!” Dabi shouted when he got to the bar counter, in hopes that the bartender might be able to hear him through the blasted music and the crowd screaming at the top of their lungs. 

The bartender nodded (though Dabi wasn’t sure if he actually understood what he said) before turning around and busying himself at the back — leaving Dabi to watch the stage as the last few notes rang out, the crowd erupting into cheers as the band thanked everyone for coming to watch. You smiled sweetly at the crowd, waving wildly before you all jumped off the stage to be mobbed by the people who were on the floor. 

“Here!” the bartender shouted over the chatter, pushing the bottles towards Dabi over the wooden counter. 

Dabi was still looking over to where the crowd was gathered at the bottom of the stage, where you and the rest of the band had gotten off.

“She’s hot, isn’t she?” The bartender grabbed Dabi’s attention when he went to grab the bottles.

“Who?” Dabi stared at him.

“The bassist,” he pointed back towards the crowd. “Saw you were staring.”

“Nah,” Dabi waved him off. “Just thought she was a good player.”

The bartender only snorted in response before he was called over to the other side of the bar. Dabi chose to roll his eyes and ignore him instead as he stumbled through the crowd back to the small booth they were sitting in. 

Only, there was someone new at the table.

“Dabi, look who joined us,” Toga smiled as he placed the bottle down on the table for her to take.

Sure enough, you were sitting right beside her—squished into their little booth of ragtags as if you’d been a part of the group the entire time. 

And fuck, you were prettier up close. All glossed lips and doe eyes as you clung to Himiko’s arm. 

Dabi almost forgot that he had to say anything until he caught Tomura giving him his stupid, cracking, dry smirk.

“Nice to meet you,” he nodded as he dipped down to scooch Tomura over in his spot. 

“You’re Dabi, right?” you smiled. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 “You know Y/N,” Himiko looked his way slyly. “It’s Dabi’s birthday today.”

“Oh,” you looked surprised. “Uh, happy birthday.”

“And guess what else Y/N? My birthday present to him was your performance. And Dabi’s like, superrrr picky about what music he likes but he said he really liked your guys’ band—and he especially thinks that you’re super good at bass!”

 Dabi almost spat out the beer he’d just sipped, settling for choking on it instead as he watched Tomura snicker from the side even as he patted his back to help him soothe it down. A glare settled over his features as he stared in Toga’s direction, though she paid no mind as she continued chattering on with you.

“Uh, yeah,” was all Dabi could say, awkwardly, when you turned in his direction to gauge his reaction. “Yeah, you played well.”

“You should give him lessons!” Toga almost shouted, as if the lightbulb in her head had just gone off like it would in some anime.

(He really wanted to strangle her. He really did. Not that Tomura’s silent snickering from the side was making the situation any better. 

Jin, thankfully, was too engrossed in watching the game displayed near the top of the bar.)

“Thank you,” was all you could say, also awkwardly, while chuckling slightly. “And, I mean, I could if you wanted to,” you turned towards him with a small smile. “I actually teach some kids at the rec center.”

Of fucking course you were goddamn Mother Teresa on top of everything. Why should he be surprised?

“Cool,” he tried to sip his beer nonchalantly, though Tomura’s constant eyebrow waggling wasn’t helping. 

“Actually, I have to go to the bathroom,” Toga suddenly announced while pinching Jin’s arm. 

He muttered an ow before he followed her out of the booth (complaining about how he didn’t need to use the bathroom) before Tomura also made the excuse that he needed to grab another beer (even though his bottle was still pretty full) — which left the both of you alone at the booth and Dabi fuming as he sipped his beer quietly. 

Those idiots were about as subtle as screaming cows running across the hillside — what the fuck did they actually expect him to do? Ask you for your number or something? 

The whole situation was hopeless. 

“How’d you guys all meet?” you asked him through a sip of your drink — “You all seem super close.”

“Highschool,” he rolled his eyes. “They haven’t left me alone since.”

You let out a laugh at that, and Dabi almost caught himself smiling at the sound. 

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“Have you met Himiko?” He raised an eyebrow. “Girl’s fucking obsessed with everyone she meets — she just latches on and never lets go.”

“I wouldn't say that’s a bad thing,” you chuckled, letting silence (though was it really silence, if the entire bar was shouting at the top of their lungs?) wash over the table. 

“What made you join a band?” Dabi decided to return a question.

“One of my friends kinda forced me,” you shrugged. “Their bassist quit on them at the last minute for one of their gigs so he emotionally manipulated me into filling in for them. Then they just kinda decided that I was a better fit and I’ve been a part of it ever since.”

“Emotionally manipulated?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear,” you laughed at the suspicious expression he was making. “It was kinda along the lines of ‘It’s only once Y/N you have to do this for us! Remember when I brought you that dress when you spilled coffee on your shirt?’ — and honestly, I enjoy playing with them. It helped me learn that music was my creative outlet.”

“So you don’t study it I’m guessing?”

“No,” you laughed (and god, it was so fucking pretty). “I’m doing law. What about you?”

“Business,” he sighed — though unintentionally — but you caught on quickly as you raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want to do business?”

Dabi sat alarmed, staring and blinking at you like a deer in headlights.

 How the fuck did you catch on so quickly?

“It’s uh– sorta, yeah,” he forced himself to catch his words quickly. “My dad runs this company that he wants me to eventually take over — even though I’d rather not.”

You must’ve noticed how caught off guard he looked from how apologetically you were staring at him.

What did it mean that he immediately felt bad because you looked upset and it was kind of his fault?

“Sorry,” you avoided eye contact to sip on your beer once more. “I didn’t mean for it to get so heavy. You just — didn’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“No, it’s fine.” He leaned back in the booth. “It was just kinda — unexpected — that you’d pick up on it so quickly.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but have you ever told your dad that you don’t want to run his business?”

“Yeah,” he sighed as he leaned back, letting one arm drape over the back of the booth — “It doesn’t work like that though.”

Dabi physically couldn’t stop the frown that made its way to his lips after taking a sip of his beer, memories caught behind his lashes as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” you uttered under your breath, “It’s your birthday and I’m a stranger who’s forcing you to talk about stuff you don’t need to. I’ll catch you later, I guess.” 

When Dabi opened his eyes once more you were standing up, drink in hand to make your way out of the small corner booth; and he shot up without hesitation.

(Was he really that upset to see you go?)

“It’s not your fault,” he blocked your exit, hands outstretched so you couldn’t pass — though they were quickly retracted and scratching the back of his neck when he realized how threatening that must have been. “I, uh– Birthdays are already kind of a sore spot; I probably wouldn’t have celebrated if it weren’t for the rest of the gang. But, I promise, it’s not your fault for bringing it up.”

“Still,” you were giving him this small, sad smile that made him want to pull his hair out. “You should get to celebrate with your friends. I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

“You’re not–”

“Y/N! We’re all going to– Oh, am I interrupting something?” 

A tall, familiar looking blonde guy was standing right behind Dabi when he turned around, hands on his hips while sizing Dabi up like he was about to try something with you.

“Keigo–” you were out of the booth before blondie could say anything else, “–this is Dabi; he’s one of Himiko’s friends. Dabi, this is Keigo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dabi stuck his hand out, watching a tiny breath of air puff out of Keigo’s mouth as he took it begrudgingly. “You’re the lead singer, right?”

“Yeah,” Keigo seemingly stood taller.

“He’s the one who manipulated me into joining Blood in the Water,” you turned to Dabi quickly. 

“Manipulated?” An eyebrow rose on Keigo’s face before turning to Dabi. “Is that what she told you?”

“That’s what you did!”

“No,” he shook his head, laughing. “I just bothered you until you said yes.”

“That’s a form of manipulation,” you rolled your eyes.

“Is it really though?”

“Hey guys!” Another girl popped up — the girl who played the drums. “We’re leaving now, with or without you.”

“You’re free to join us if you like,” Keigo turned to Dabi, seemingly over his suspicion in under a second. “We’re heading to that bar down by the mall, this place is a little crowded now.”

“Nah it’s alright,” Dabi accepted his fate, clenching down on the part of his brain that wanted to ask you for your number so he could at least keep in contact. “My friends are all here — somewhere. I don’t wanna ditch ‘em.”

Your face seemed to drop when he said those words, but you nodded as the girl linked her arms in yours to drag you away. 

“See you around,” you waved before walking away — and Dabi could only repeat your action before you were gone with Keigo by your side, standing and staring from his little spot in the corner for what felt like hours.  

I’m such a fucking idiot. I made her feel bad.

“Dabi! What happened? Where’d Y/N go?” Himiko’s voice pulled him back, and Dabi could only turn and give her a weary look before slumping back into the booth to finish his beer. 

.

.

.

.

.

Dabi didn’t talk to Himiko for two days after that: for her pathetic attempts at match-making, for putting him in that situation in the first place, for leaving him there with you thinking that he could get your number, (for giving him hope that he could get your number,)  for not fact checking because it was clear that Keigo was already into you. 

And he knew it was stupid that he was upset (and a little jealous, frankly) since you’d both just met that day but he couldn’t help it. What was he supposed to do about it at this point though?

(He pacified himself; he could be as salty about it as he wanted since it’d been his birthday, and that had to have some significance.)

Perhaps the only good thing that came out of it was the resurgence of music in his life. 

And no, Himiko did not successfully convince him to go and join your classes filled with little middle schoolers — though, to be honest, he might’ve considered it just to have an excuse to see you (outside of trying to run into you at school).

Instead, he found himself drawn back to playing the guitar like had in high school — something he’d buried desperately after he joined college to avoid looking like those lame-ass, stereotypical “guitar guys”; with all the tattoos and piercings he had, he didn’t need the whole female population swarming after him just because he had the stereotypical “bad boy” phenotype. 

Even though his refound interest was hidden — he did not want Shigaraki to find out and give him shit about it forever — he enjoyed the quiet afternoons spent in the little music shop near the edge of campus: it was always basically empty, the owner was old and chill so he didn’t care that Dabi wandered in all the time just to mess around with his guitars, and there was a small recording studio in the back (which was technically used to give lessons, but it was good just for practicing).

He even made a little routine out of it; he’d spend the morning going out to get breakfast and listening to music to hype himself up before going in and practicing the couple of songs he was working on for the rest of the afternoon.

But the last thing he expected to see when he wandered in one random afternoon, was you.

You were tucked in the back in the recording booth with a flashy bass the old man usually displayed in the front, playing your heart out to a song playing on the headphone situated over your head with your lips quietly mouthing out the words to the song. 

Dammit, Dabi forgot how pretty you were just after a few weeks of not seeing you — even in casual sweats and your hair tied up he still felt his heart start beating faster at just the sight of you. 

What was it about your presence that made him feel so different? For some reason, he didn’t feel as angered or annoyed by his conditions if you were near him.

He couldn’t really help it as he crept further towards the booth, watching from the almost-soundproof glass; he could tell that you were playing Smells Like Teen Spirit again from the riffs you repeated, and also the solo you took — and it made it obvious of how deep your love for music ran. You clearly loved what you did, even if you downplayed it as a hobby for other people. 

You’d finished now, though, and were staring– fuck, you were staring at him through the glass; and you sent him a small smile and a wave.

Dabi kinda wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it. 

“Hey,” he tried to wave casually when you walked out to meet him. 

“Hey,” you smiled. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I, uh, started coming here not too long ago…” he shrugged. “—To buy records and stuff.” He quickly added. He wasn’t sure that he could trust you to not tell Himiko about his guitar secret just yet. 

“So you’re not the guy my uncle said started coming in on the afternoons to come practice the guitar?” you planted your hands on your hips. 

Dabi almost sputtered in response. 

Your uncle?

No wonder you were allowed to play the most expensive instrument in that little shop. 

“I… uh…” he couldn’t really find an excuse for his blatant lie, but you interrupted him with a laugh.

“I’m just being annoying. Don’t worry, I’m sure you have your reasons.” you waved him off with a smile, grabbing the bass you were just playing to go hang it back in the front. 

“They’re not real reasons,” he followed you and continued. “I just don’t really want certain people to find out I started playing again — specifically Himiko.”

“Yeah, I could see the consequences of that,” you giggled, putting the bass back in its display before heading over to the small counter where the cash register was.

Dabi didn’t know what else to do but follow. 

“So… this place is your uncle’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking back up at him. “I take over sometimes when he has to go help my aunt at the hospital. He was the one who first taught me guitar, actually.”

“Guitar and bass?” Dabi raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Planning to take over the whole music industry, huh?”

“Well, I can try,” you chuckled. “I mean, I’m planning to take over it through law anyways, might as well go through both forms.”

“You’re gonna go into entertainment law?”

“It’s what I’m thinking about,” you hummed. “Probably the easier stuff, like copyright and all that but I think it’d be really interesting.”

“Smart and talented,” Dabi couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. Why was he being so weirdly flirtatious? “What can’t you do?

“My stats homework.”

Dabi’s nose crinkled slightly before looking down on the counter to see that a big textbook that read STATISTICS was in fact, open and on the counter.

How had he not noticed that when he walked in?

Well it made sense, because you were the first and only thing he noticed when he walked in. 

“Do you know how to do any of this shit?” you looked at him wearily. “You’ve probably done stats in Business, right?”

“Here, gimme that,” he maneuvered the text book so that it was facing him before reading out the problem and beginning to explain how you used the z critical value to get the p-value and you had to use both of those to get your conclusion — missing the way you completely disregarded what he said: only watching the curve of his face, the way his mouth moved when he spoke, listening to the highs and lows of his voice as his words flew past your head, watching the piercings on his ears catch the light when he shifted slightly. 

Obviously you found him super attractive — not just his “bad boy” persona (which you couldn’t lie, was super hot— you actually noticed him in the crowd that night) but also who he was as a person. 

However, you still felt bad about asking about his family and home life unprompted. It wasn’t hard to see that there were a lot of bad memories by the way his mood instantly shifted when you’d asked about it that night at the bar; and you’d been beating yourself up about it ever since: trying to stay hidden and avoiding him whenever you spotted him in the distance on campus.

Even now, you could still make out the slightest frown on his lips if you leaned in close enough.

“Does that make sense?” Dabi finished, only looking up to see you quietly staring at him — the smallest distance left between you, like you’d brought your face closer to his just to observe him.

He only swallowed, like there was nothing left that he could possibly say — what could he say anyway? You were so close to his face that he could pick out the hints of other colors in your irises, the outline of your cheekbones, the way your eyelashes curled upward, the small hint of a smile that rested on your lips. 

 You seemed to realize what had happened almost instantly — though it felt like time itself had stopped and you’d both been sitting there staring for hours — and you turned away with a frown tugging over your expression.

“M’sorry,” you muttered, not looking back at him.

“What for?”

You opened your mouth once or twice, as if deciding what to say. “For staring.”

Dabi let out a small snort at that; like he hadn’t been staring at you since he first saw you.

“And..” you continued, taking in a small breath. “For what happened… At the bar — what I said.”

“You don’t need to apologize for asking about my family,” Dabi read your mind; he could see how much it was bothering you just by the small twinge in your eyebrows. “It’s not like I hide my contemptment for them,” he laughed. “I express it pretty openly, actually.”

“But it was your birthday, and I dunno… It was pretty rude of me.”

And something inside Dabi snapped.

Alright dude… Now or never…

“If you’re that worried, why don’t you make it up to me by coming out with me for dinner?”

Your eyes widened for a moment, in surprise, but your expression settled under a couple of seconds — leaving a large, beautiful smile to rest on your lips.

“I’d love that.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

We know you enjoy fucked up characters. But which HP and Twilight characters do you actually like/consider decent at least as people, not characters? I'd love a reasoning, if you have time for it, but if you don't, just a list would do, thank you!

In the traditional sense that tumblr would readily accept? Alright, I'll try listing things off and see what we get.

(As for my actually 'liking' that's a different story, as you note, I do genuinely like the fucked up characters who I claim are abominable. They're interesting to me, anon.)

Harry Potter

I'm only going to bother listing off the at least somewhat present characters. We're not going to talk about shop keepers who have two lines one time or someone who just gets mentioned offscreen.

Neville Longbottom

Neville's a good kid and kind of the Charlie Brown of the series. Just, god, this kid puts up with so much shit even from those who are supposed to kind of be his friends.

However, I can never remember him ever being remotely awful even in a normal teenage way. He's just a really nice kid who has shitty teenage friends.

Luna Lovegood

Luna's a bit strange but also suffers from the seeming to be a good kid with shitty friends syndrome. Especially when those friends are worse to her than they are to Neville (quite the accomplishment). Luna should have blown her lid years ago but takes it all in stride even when Ron, Harry, and Hermione are actively making fun of her to her face.

God, Luna, I'm so sorry.

Fleur Delacour

Fleur is standoffish to Harry at first, but it's reasonable given the position she's in, her age at the time, and that it looks like Hogwarts favoritism. However, to me she generally acts nice and like a very decent person, even when the Weasleys are giving her constant hell for daring to date Bill.

Viktor Krum

Viktor seems like a nice enough guy. We don't see too much of him but he's friendly, approachable, he and Hermione have a great time at the dance and brief romance and every bad thing he ever did turned out to be him getting imperiused.

Twilight

Charlie Swan

Charlie has some serious flaws and some issues when it comes to seeing Jacob clearly/disregarding his daughter but he does genuinely seem to try his best and have her best interests at heart.

Billy Black

Billy, you poor man. In every instant Billy is trying to do right by his son, his people, his friends, or Bella and he comes off a superstitious madman, an old man who has no idea what he's talking about and the Cullens are amazing, or someone who doesn't understand.

Jessica Stanley

Jessica's a gossip and a teenage girl but she goes out of her way to do right by all of her friends. We don't see too much with the other girls, as Bella... cares about Bella, but she goes above and beyond for Bella when none of her other friends are there for her.

She nopes out (as she should have when hanging around Bella became dangerous for her) but she hangs out with Bella later when Bella's... stabilized and never brings up what happened.

Beautifully repaid for this by Edward and Bella both thinking she's The Worst.

Mike Newton

Mike's not a bad kid, he's just a teenage boy. He's about what I'd expect from any teenage boy in any high school. He's very interested in girls, yes, but he also reacts in ways normal people should like say when Bella looks like she's going to pass out in Biology over the blood testing and he's freaking out over it.

Sam Uley

I may get flack for this but the man does try. A lot. He tries to do right by all the people in the pack, tries to do right by Bella, tries to do right by Leah and Emily (even when imprinty shifty nonsense happens), and is forced into making very hard decisions. However he seems to be a very honorable and standup guy just in the worst circumstances.

Emily Young

Emily's another that tries to do right by everyone and is just caught in an awful mess. She tries to do right by Leah, by Sam, then keep her tribe together when these teenage boys keep imprinting on everything.

Leah Clearwater

Leah's full of anger but again always tries to do the right thing and is very levelheaded considering her circumstances. She doesn't want to hate Sam or Emily for what happened to her and actively tries to move on from her own hurt.

Seth Clearwater

Seth seems like a good, earnest, kid. His flaws are actually in his naivite and willingness to see the good in everybody when, yeah, Seth, maybe the Cullens are in fact dangerous and you shouldn't be buddy buddy with them. I've got nothing against Seth.

Quil Atera IV

Quil seems like a decent kid who got stuck imprinting on a toddler and is desperately trying to make the best of it in the only way he can: just being her baby sitter one time a week. Before the imprint he seemed like a decent enough guy.

I'm not going to list off all the pack but most of them seem like decent people trying to do the right thing if a little teenage boy-ish (which can sometimes make them assholes).

Carlisle Cullen

The man has some serious flaws and issues but I think he is a decent person at heart who does strive to live by his principles and do the right thing. (Also, you guys knew this one was coming).

Esme Cullen

Esme's bizarre, but she's a very sweet and caring person who I think is quite genuine in her compassion towards others. She may not be entirely there, but she does mean what she says and genuinely mean well for her family and for others. She just... says things sometimes, or doesn't realize that telling Edward it's okay to eat the girl means Edward would be... eating a teenage girl...

[ohtobeleah]

I have a Halloween request for bob:

77. “The legend said it only goes after virgins...so sucks for you I guess.”

Request List / Prompt List

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“It’s just an old wise tale—“ Payback started as you all hung around in the change room. Getting your flight suits on for the day. “Legend has it they went down between the gully and their bodies were never recovered, their souls are trapped and try to take down anyone who flys over the gully—“

“Ah, so that’s why that call it’s dead man’s gully huh?” You rolled your neck, still stiff from last night. Bob couldn’t stop looking at you, picturing what you looked like under your flight suit. The marks you’d left his back littered with stung, but god it got him off. “Kinda sounds like something you’d believe in.” Chuckling Paybacks way you shook your head.

“A sceptic are we sparrow?” Hangman interrupted. “Thought for sure you’d fall for that bullshit, you know—ghosts and ghouls and what not.”

“I’m more of a see it to believe it kinda gal.” You replied. Shutting your locker as you did your flight suit up.

“Makes sense, you and Bobby boy over here would make a great dynamic duo, bonding over numbers and whatever else would get you off.” Hangman teased, winking at Bob who made his way over to where you stood.

“Yeah I’m not into all that stuff either, all kinda seems too unbelievable.” Bob shrugged. “I’d probably need to see a full blown apparition or experience something completely unexplainable to change my mind.”

“Sceptics are just scared of the unexplainable Floyd.” Hangman chewed his gum as he smirked. “Unexplained turbulence flying in a gully with basically no wind would rattle my bones too.”

“Shut up Hangman we get it—“ you sighed. “Seems to me you’re just trying to find an excuse to fall back on for your shitty manoeuvring.” You huffed, Payback couldn’t hold back his laughter. Bob just stood smirking, his chest puffed as you beamed his way.

“Don’t worry Bob, the legend said it only goes after virgins, so sucks for you I guess.” Hangman spat as you tried to hide your disbelief, knowing full well Robert Floyd literally had you begging his name over and over again in the supply closet of your dorm last night before having snuck back to your bunk while Phoenix was out in a night flight.

You and Bob had been pretty flirty with one another since first meeting at the Hard Deck bar. You’d noticed the WOS sitting off to the side of the pool table early on in the night. Ending up between the sheets together more often the not between flight training and practice.

“Shit!” Bobs hands fell to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he bucked his hips against your face. Watching from above as you took his length so well down your throat. “Oh my god, fuck—“ throwing his head back in pure pleasure Bob felt his the all too familiar feeling racing to the base of his shift. Knowing damn well if you kept going with the way you were sucking him off so expertly, he wouldn’t last.

“C’mer—“ Bob mumbled, helping you up off your knees. Kissing you passionately as you sat back on the small bench. Your legs instantly wrapping around Bobs waist as he waisted no time, smashing his length into your cervix as he cupped your mouth to muffle your moans. Watching your eyes roll as he rolled his hips. “Fuck your so wet, all for me huh?” Nodding you bit your bottom lip.

Been thinking about you all day, fucked me so good the other night I just needed more.” You never would have expected Robert Floyd to be a good fuck. But it was always the quiet ones wasn’t it. “God you feel so fucking good—“ the pad of Bobs thumb working to roll over your clit so carefully it worked to turn the coil inside you perfectly, watching as you chased your high in the damn supply closet. “Fuck, keep going, just like that!”

“What was that?” Bob teased as he kissed your neck, smirking against your flushed skin. “Speak up? I couldn’t hear you?” Slowly his motion just to tease you.

“Bob please, please keep going—!” You whisper moaned. “Bob please, faster, faster!”

“God anything to see you cum around me.”

You felt your panties dampening as you remembered last night. Standing beside Bob as you noticed the crimson colour his cheeks had gone at Hangman’s dig.

“Unless Bobby here isn’t such a virgin after all?” Bob didn’t know what was more embarrassing, going along with it or putting himself as a good fuck. He chose to keep you out of it, for your own peace of mind. Bob didn’t want Hangman hanging around.

“Wouldn’t even know where to put it.” Bob smirked, you couldn’t help the laugh you let out at his obvious lie. Following after Bob as he made his way out of the change room.

“Supply closet?” You whispered as Bob stopped in his tracks. Turning to look over his shoulder to see if anyone else had followed before grabbing your waist, shoving you inside the supply closet with a laugh and a needy grin.

“Fuck yes.”

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted - a TMA x Malevolent crossover, chapter 19

The plan seems simple enough: find a way to switch Daisy's focus to the real danger, the firebugs who worship the Desolation.

Unfortunately, nothing in Tim's life is that simple right now… and even worse, Jon has forgotten to follow up on a very important thing.

Gore warning! Also, Larson warning. Yeah. They're connected. 🙃

AO3

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

Aww. He looks like a little angel.

Tim is incapable of giving Hastur a dry look in his own face, but he can certainly shoot one at the vanity mirror.

Hastur laughs his terrible sadist laugh (and Tim really wants to bottle it, but for the sake of the bit, rolls his eyes instead).

“Can we maybe try to be less of a dick?" he says.

As you wish, Hastur rumbles, and his right fingertips tap a pattern over Tim’s stomach.

This whole having a hand thing is such a dangerous thing to give Hastur. Devil-pants is, without question, an asshole. Tim shakes it off and goes to check Jon.

He does not, truth be told, look like an angel. Paleness has lent his brown skin a green tint; he already looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, but now, he looks like he might have spent it throwing up, too. Tim feels shitty. It’s impossible to remove his onus from this, accidental priest or not. “Jon. Hey, Jon. Come on, buddy. We need to get you showered and fed.”

Jon’s eyes work behind his lids.

He hears you, says Hastur softly. But I don't understand…

“Don't understand what?” says Tim.

He’s seeing things that are not here.

“Soooo... dreaming?” Tim suggests.

No. The… he’s connected to the people he's seeing. I don't understand. This isn't a power he should possess.

Tim tries to parse that. “So should I try to see what he's seeing?”

No. That’s too big a spell for our first practice.

“Fine. Jon. Come on, mate. You can do it.”

“Nng?” Jon says, and cracks his eyes open. “Tim?”

“Yeah. You okay?”

Jon’s eyes fill.

Oh, no, thinks Tim. "You good, bud?"

“Can I… tell you something?” says Jon, slowly sitting up. “And I mean that phrasing, though may I is also included, but I’m not sure I can. Oh. Also, good morning."

Hastur huffs.

Tim ignores both grammatical tomfoolery and jealous cattery. “Morning. So yeah, try. Take as long as you need.”

Jon swings his legs over the side of the bed, rubs his cheek, and makes a face at whatever he finds there. “I’m really… I’m struggling with all this.”

Tim nods. “I get that. A few days ago, I would have sworn to you in front of a judge, a priest, and a virgin that there was no such thing as magic or souls or whatever. And here we are.”

Jon's lips quirk. "Well, you've got one of those here, should you feel inclined to try. So. Here we are,” he says, and seems to come to a decision.

Did I hear you say you're a virgin?

Right, Tim's ignoring that. "I'm all ears."

Jon swallows. “When I was eight years old, I had a particular bully. He was about… I don’t know, eighteen or so? Big enough to cause problems, and old enough that his word was taken over mine.”

Tim knew it. This guy has been bullied his whole life. Still is, and thinks it is normal. It occurs to Tim that Jon would not know if Elias ("if," that’s really funny) has been crossing lines he shouldn’t. It would fall too neatly into Jon’s ouvre, just with a little extra supernatural spice.

Tim is completely sure Elias is aware of this. Tim is completely sure Elias has blown past those lines for years now.

Tim is angry enough he almost misses when Jon starts talking again. “When I was young, I was a deeply annoying child.” And Jon does a laugh he clearly feels is expected at the expense of his younger self. “So it wasn’t that surprising. The thing is, I… I found a Leitner.”

Tim stiffens. “The fuck? You were eight!”

“Yes,” says Jon, like leftover coffee grinds. “I don’t want to go into all of it right now, but… this book almost got me eaten by a giant spider that lived in a house.” He swallowed. “Instead, my bully came along. He knocked the book out of my hands, knocked me down, then picked it up to use its contents to mock me.”

Tim knows. “And he got eaten instead.”

“Yes.” Jon covers his face.

"Jon, this... this wasn't your fault. Any of it. There's no such thing as a kid who deserves to be bullied."

“I know that," Jon says into his hands, "but I still feel like it was.”

Perhaps his fate was justice, Hastur says.

“For just shoving another kid on the playground?” Jon bursts, and laughs weakly. “No. No. It should’ve been me. It wasn’t, and I’ve spent my whole life trying to disprove what happened. To prove it couldn’t happen, because statistically, something like that cannot possibly be a one-off, and it was real, it did happen, and now so much more is real than I imagined, and this isn’t… this isn’t how I wanted it to go. That’s all.” He rubs his eyes. “I sound pathetic.”

You do, says Hastur before Tim can stop him, but that's not a terrible thing in this circumstance.

“Hastur,” Tim warns.

No, says Hastur. He should hear this. Sometimes, the universe produces justice. More often, it doesn't; but I find the fact that a near-adult felt it fine to harm a true child, and his doing so led to his death, directly, as a consequence of his own actions, absolves that child from any ill.

Jon looks up.

You are not guilty, Jonathan Sims, says Hastur with what sounds like all the authority he believes he once had, with the power of the pope, with a fucking god-like surety that sounds like he actually has the power to forgive sins.

Briefly, Tim is gripped with the mad urge to laugh, but he does not. Jon is staring, wide-eyed, and seems to be taking this very seriously. “You do?” whispers Jon.

Well, Tim can’t laugh now.

I do, confirms Hastur. And I think you know I’d hardly lie to you. I don’t even like you, particularly—but Tim does, so for his sake, I will speak. You did not do this. Let that shame go.

Jon stares. His eyes are wide, amazed, moved.

This, Tim suddenly realizes, is probably one of the ways Hastur manages to get cultists in this day and age: showing up, being all this, making them feel heard and special. Nope.

Cutting that off at the pass. “He’s a dick about it,” he says, keeping his tone light, “but I agree. There’s no excuse to bully someone less than half your age.”

Jon drops his gaze. “I suppose.”

“So do I.” Tim has no intention of letting Hastur bait that hook again, whatever hook it is. “So you’re having trouble with all of this because it’s happening so fast… and you have such a big reason to want it untrue. I get it.”

Jon rubs his eyes again like a tired child.

“Come on, man,” says Tim, helping him stand. “Get a shower.”

“I didn’t… my clothes,” says Jon pathetically.

“Your utterly gore-soaked clothes? Yeah, I’m calling a pass on that,” says Tim. “I’ll find you something. Just go get cleaned up, okay? Food, then, too.”

“And then?”

“Then… we might be going to Sheffield,” says Tim, hoping desperately that he is not, in fact, herding all three of them to their doom.

Jon obeys and goes to shower. He doesn’t even remember to close the door.

Tim sighs. “Yeah, we’re doing great.”

At least we feel less nauseated, says Hastur.

“You’ve really got a thing about throwing up, don’t you?” says Tim, checking drawers. As he thought, clothing of various sizes sits in these drawers, cleaned and pressed and waiting for whomever. “The fuck does he do here?” he mutters to himself.

I just don’t like it, says Hastur after a long moment.

“Throwing up?”

Who does?

“Nobody, but… oh, he’ll like this,” says Tim, and lifts out a simple green button-down, Oxford-collar and—as if planted—a nothing-brown sweater-vest with dark green chevron stripes.

He will, says Hastur. Also, did he say he was a virgin?

"That really isn't our business, Hastur?"

Of course, of course. I'm merely concerned for his welfare, both mentally and physically.

Tim cannot help his eye-roll. “Don’t think I trust this sudden opinion change of yours,” he says, laying the clothes on the bed next to some socks and boxers.

What? says Hastur, innocently. I am allowed to change my mind, Tim.

“Yeah, but you don’t go from not liking someone to liking them for no reason.”

Let’s just say… Hastur seems to consider his words. I like the sounds he makes when he is drunk.

"Okay, but that's worse? You see how that's worse, right?" Tim suggests politely, and heads for the stairs.

Oh, Tim, hums Hastur, you’re so suspicious.

“And that didn’t go very far in easing my suspicions,” Tim quips.

Hastur laughs at him.

Or maybe with him. It’s such a big, cruel sound that it’s hard to tell, and Tim’s imagination puts that sound in some interesting situations, and oh, it would work so well, and before he knows it, he finds himself asking— “Say,” he says. “Is that what you really sound like?”

My voice? Yes, says Hastur.

Tim decides he has no safe reply, and goes silent.

#

There are voices down there. One of them is Elias, and he’s… laughing? No, not quite laughing—it isn’t that evil as fuck sound he let loose earlier today. No, that’s… that’s…

“Is he fucking flirting?” mutters Tim.

He can feel Hastur startle. What? What makes you say that?

“Just listen.” Tim leans on the banister, doing just that. “The way he’s talking. It’s flirty as fuck.”

Hastur listens. It sounds aggressive to me, both passive and otherwise.

“Yeah, it’s that, too,” says Tim. “It’s the way he’s talking. Familiar. Definitely flirty. Distinctly rude. The fuck is down there, his ex-wife?”

Sounds male to me.

“Yeah,” says Tim, unsure if he wants to walk into whatever this is. He sighs. “Let’s get it done.”

With Elias, in the kitchen, is a man. A large man, beefy and broad, with white hair and beard, wearing a dark pea-coat and white captain's hat lined with gold leaves. And the man is already looking Tim’s way, as if he knew he was coming down before Tim did.

Elias turns in his chair and beams. “Tim! There you are. Come down here and meet your new business partner.”

So Elias is putting it on thick, and everything Tim thought upstairs is, he's sure, confirmed. The two are sitting an inch too close together with their hands too close on the table, yet the captain guy leans away from Elias like he’d rather be anywhere else, and Elias is utterly gleeful about the whole weird setup.

If this isn’t an ex, Tim will eat that captain’s hat. “Hi,” he says, and sits in a chair across from them. “So. Weird day, huh?”

The captain smiles. It’s a fantastic smile, friendly; the white beard and hair don’t match the youth of his face, and Tim has no idea how old this guy is. “So this is your mystery-sorcerer, is it? Nice to meet you, nice to meet you. Call me Peter.”

‘Peter’ doesn’t offer a hand to shake, so Tim doesn’t, either. “Tim. Business partner?”

“Peter Lukas is captain and owner of the Tundra, a large, seaworthy beast that can and has take you where you need to go,” says Elias.

“Part-owner,” says Peter so affably that Tim has no question Elias' comment was a stab.

Elias looks briefly shocked. “Part?”

Peter ignores him, confirming it. “I’m told you’re going to need some help reaching a few difficult places. Not to worry. I’ve got the resources to get you there, as long as the Institute fronts the funds.”

Tim looks at Elias.

“Oh, we’ll be paying, don’t worry,” Elias says brightly. “It all goes under the operating budget.”

“The hiring of random vessels to go someplace difficult,” says Tim as dryly as he can.

“Oh, I like this one, Elias,” says Peter. “He’s got a bit of bite to him, doesn’t he?”

“I was concerned you might,” says Elias.

“Well, not to worry. The issue at hand for me is impossible with this fellow,” says Peter as if that makes sense. “That’s all right. The money’s good, and it isn’t that long a trip.”

“Really?” says Elias sounding ridiculously amazed. “The Arctic is hardly right around the corner."

“The Arctic?” blurts Tim.

Peter waves his hand, affable and dismissive of all that Elias is. “Not to worry, Tim. It’s hardly time for your trip now, is it? I understand you’re going to Sheffield.”

Tim stares. “So… did you just tell him all the things, or is my National Insurance number still under wraps?”

Captain Peter laughs. It’s a great laugh. He’s absolutely delightful to hear, to watch, and yet it feels like the edge of an abandoned moor covered in mist and ready to swallow travelers.

The Lonely, whispers Hastur, and he feels afraid.

Well, that cinches it. “Thanks, but I think I have to decline?” says Tim, who will stand the fuck up for Hastur no matter if he’s a god.

Elias smiles.

Fuck, thinks Tim, because it’s clear Elias expected him to protest.

“Well, I can’t say that’s particularly wise,” says Elias, “but if you really want to abandon your passenger’s plans, that’s up to you.”

What? says Hastur, who perks up like a German Shorthaired Pointer. What? What about me?

“The item you need is in Sannikov Land,” says Elias mildly.

Oh, shit. The god-flesh. “The g… the thing is in the Arctic?” Tim squeaks.

Then we must go.

“Hold on,” says Tim.

Non-negotiable. If what I need is there…

“It is,” Elias says. “Anyway, all of this is moot. You’re going to Sheffield today, and assuming that goes as we all hope—”

“Wait, you said you were going to work on that,” Tim breaks in.

“Indeed. Chief Inspector Henderson has assigned some capable people to set up the sting. All you need to do is go.”

Tim can feel the incredulous face he’s making, but it goes beyond even the power of baby Merlin to stop it. “So,” he says, casually, “you ever have a moment when you realize your life has gone completely insane, and that maybe you’re just hallucinating, because what in actual hell is going on?”

Captain Peter smiles and laughs again, the perfect response, light and chipper. “Yes,” he says. “And I must say, Tim, you seem to be handling it admirably.”

But Tim knows how he feels, and knows his instinct is almost wrong, and he is absolutely certain that Peter is not moved by his charm. That Peter is repulsed by it. That Peter feels Tim’s amiability, and it disgusts him on some wild, deep level that Tim has never known. Hastur’s whispered words suddenly make sense. “The Lonely?” Tim says. “That’s one of these fear-gods? Loneliness?”

“You’ve known a bit of it yourself,” says Peter absolutely winningly. “I can see it on you—though with your partnership, you’ve certainly gone beyond its reach now, haven’t you? Ha-ha!”

While Tim has Hastur, he isn’t alone. “Yeeaah,” he says, drawing the word out. “Is being Lonely-core sort of inherently creepy, or is that just a quality of being Elias’s ex-whatever?”

They both look shocked.

(That may be the most satisfying thing that’s happened in days.)

Hastur laughs, low and wicked and eager.

Elias turns to Peter. “I did warn you.”

“Yes, well,” says Peter. “Well. Not to worry. I’ve handled rougher seas. And I'll be ferrying you toward an end-game, anyway.”

Was that a threat? Did this Peter have his sight set on them after they were separated? After, when Tim could be alone again? “Ratcheting up the creep factor a bit much, aren’t you?”

“Only in response to aggressive protective coloring,” beams Peter.

That was pretty good. Tim snorts. “I can't decide if I like you or want to set you on fire.”

“Prefer a bit more distance, if it’s all the same to you,” says Peter Lukas as if he’s flirting and not offering to stay far, far away.

“Wonderful! We're all getting along,” says Elias, and claps his hands. “The lieutenant is nearly here. I'll let you know when they're ready, Peter.”

Lukas stands. He’s tall. Large. Tree-like, and Tim has a wild image of this form against a backdrop of waves and moon and mist and mourn, somehow immaterial as if made of fog and sorrow, and it is terrifying. It is fear embodied of being abandoned, alone, in a world unseen of roaming eyes that see but never notice, laughter far away but never shared, homes and hearths so distant they did not even reflect on the water, and you will always be alone—

Whatever rises from Hastur now is rage-kissed, loud, shakes the table, rattles the china, and makes the lights flicker. Hands off. Do that again, avatar, and you will be alone in Hell.

“I'm not entirely sure if you’re actually trying to ward me off with a promise like that,” says Peter Lukas cheerfully. He taps his hat. “See you soon.” He leaves. He does not, Tim notes, require direction out, or lack knowledge on how to lock up.

Elias is smiling.

“Soooo,” says Tim. “That guy. You two?”

Elias waves the question away. “His family is one of the prime sources of funding for the Institute.”

Tim’s feeling spicy. “So you married in?”

“No, of course not,” says Elias. “We've merely known each other for a very long time.”

“If you haven't fucked, I'll eat his damn hat,” says Tim, which is, of course, when Jon arrives at the bottom of the stairs.

Jon stumbles. “What? Who?” he says.

Elias smiles. “If you’re ready, I'll call you a car.”

“We can take the train, and don’t think I missed you didn’t answer,” says Tim.

Elias tilts his head, looking up through his eyelashes, absolutely salacious. “Tim. Do we need to involve HR?”

"Oh, wow," says Tim.

“Is something happening here I should know about?” says Jon as primly as if he’d walked in on children drawing on the walls with Sharpies.

For absolutely no sane reason, Tim is struck with the giggles. “Could you two be more opposite?”

“We’re not opposite at all,” murmurs Elias. “Not at our core. In the end, we will both do whatever it takes… to see.”

Jon has gone still as a statue. He looks caught.

So that backfired. “Oh, good, the baiting started nice and early today,” says Tim. “Come on, Sims. I'll get you breakfast en route.”

“I—”

“Nope,” says Tim preemptively, and takes him by the arm. Then he hesitates. “You mind if I, ah. Touch you like this?”

Jon looks up. “Does it mean I’m going with you on whatever your next assignment is?”

Fuck, Tim thinks. “Yes.”

“Then you may do whatever you need,” says Jon in full Received Pronunciation, and pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Not until—ah! He’s here,” says Elias, and goes to get the door before the bell rings.

“Freaky, that guy,” murmurs Tim.

“Who’s here?” says Jon.

“I’ll handle this,” says Elias over his shoulder. “Let yourselves out through the kitchen.”

Don't be seen, is what that means. “Servants’ entrance, it is,” Tim drawls, and steers Jon out that door.

#

Elias must have an app or something, because the car he called is already here. Tim slips into the back with Jon. As he guessed, the driver knows where they’re going.

The driver is… large? Very large. Uncomfortably large, slightly hunched to keep his head from hitting the ceiling, shoulders considerably wider than the seat. Something is really weird about this guy. Tim subtly makes sure the doors are not locked.

"Food in the bag there," says the driver, who has a thick accent, a thick voice, a meaty pronunciation. "Sandwich."

"Oh! Oh, thank you?" Jon stares at the driver. Obviously stares, which will not go well even if the guy is normal.

“So,” says Tim, pulling his attention away, and drops his voice. “Seems we’re gonna be doing a sting.”

“A… a sting?” whispers Jon.

“Yeah. Setting it up to take down some firebugs. That's who was at the door—a cop.”

Jon stares. “Since when are you working for the police?”

“I’m not?”

It’s the Desolation, Hastur says quietly.

Jon pales, going slightly green. “Oh,” he says.

Tim suspects Jon knows more about them than he does. He lacks the courage to follow that trail right now. “They… they want to talk to me,” says Tim. “They don’t know I've got… you know.” He points at himself, and Jon nods. “So, yeah, Elias seems to think we’re setting up a sting, or something. The idea is pulling that Hunt lady off our trail.”

“You don’t know many details for the bait being dangled,” Jon murmured.

“You don’t have to go with me,” says Tim. “You can get out. The guy can stop the car.”

“No.”

“Jon, this is a really bad idea.” He doesn’t want to be mean about it. “You’re just the type of person they’ll…”

“Want to hurt?” says Jon, who may be weirdly naive, but isn’t actually stupid. “I’ve no doubt.”

Tim sighs. “I don’t really like this, sempai.”

Jon looks so grim. “I'm not worried about me. The real harm they can do is lure you in, I reason. With your abilities, you could destroy the entire world.”

Tim dearly wishes Jon hadn’t said that.

He can feel it. The hunger for it. The anticipated joy of destroying everything that had ever hurt him, and he has to turn away and look out the window and remember why he wants to save the world and not damn it.

It takes a minute. It’s not lust. It’s not hunger. It’s a need so deep that it feels like an integral part of him. Tim wipes his eyes.

You’re all right, Hastur soothes. Breathe with me. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four five…

“Fucking dom,” Tim whispers, managing a weak smile, and looks back at Jon.

Jon is watching him. Only watching him, and yet Tim can feel it. It’s the strangest thing. It is… not comfortable. In a flash of instinct, Tim knows something else is watching him through those brown eyes.

“Is that the Eye?” he blurts.

Yes, says Hastur.

“What?” says Jon, startling, fortunately falling out of it.

That felt awful. Tim sighs. "Bloody hell. We're a mess, you know?”

Jon nods. “I suppose.”

Tim settles back and pulls out his phone. “Oy, driver—any chance you got some kind of mobile plug situation?”

“Yeah,” says the guy in that big, meaty voice to go with his big, meaty self, and without looking, hands back two wires with different connectors.

“Baller,” says Tim, and offers one to Jon.

“Thanks,” says Jon, taking it, and then—still holding it as if he’d forgotten it existed—pulls statements from his bag to read.

Tim pops in his ear buds, cranks up some Clean Bandit, and tries to ignore that call to end the world.

#

Three hours in traffic aren’t too bad. They give Tim a chance to snooze while not inebriated, which is immediately more restful, and to calm himself down as much as he can.

He knows Jon is right. This could be a problem. A huge risk. It’s not dissimilar to waving a chunk of meat in front of the lioness he nearly let loose in fucking Chelsea. Tim sighs. What magic do you want to practice doing?

He can feel Hastur all but sit up with ears perked like a happy puppy. You’re willing?

Feel like it might be a good idea. Beside him, Jon still reads statements, hunched over, a gargoyle-monk-nerd combination (including brown skin, which Tim is certain has a lot to do with his targeting) that is either endearing or annoying, with no in-between.

Tim finds him endearing. Poor little guy.

Yes, yes, ignore him. Let’s focus on us.

“What?” says Jon.

“Nothing,” says Tim. “We’re planning. Go back to your scary bits.”

Jon gives him a scathing look Tim wishes he could bottle and goes back to the scary bits.

We will begin with something so very small. Your imagination is keen and clear; your power is wildly strong. Thus, we will start slowly, and I will help you.

You have the power to help me? I mean… you can interfere?

I don’t have your will or thoughts like I do your hand. Hastur is almost gentle saying that. But I can talk you through. Help keep you grounded. And I think, when we sync properly, I will be able to help throttle, as well.

Tim sighs, puffing out his cheeks. Swear to me on John’s grave this isn’t some scheme to take control.

There is a pause, and Tim realizes he’s caused hurt.

It is not a scheme to take control.

Hey. I’m sorry. Didn’t know that’d hurt you.

Another pause. It did not, Hastur lies like a chump.

Someday, he's going to have to get the details on this whole John and Arthur situation. Sure.

“About ‘ere,” says the driver, slowing down. “Sure about this place? Not a nice area.”

“Yeah,” says Tim. “Uh. This.” He holds out the letter, carefully folded to hide all but the address.

“Yeah, that’s it,” says the driver. “Dunno who sent you here, but they’re not your friend.” And he laughs, almost a wet sound, definitely a cruel one.

Who in fuck has Elias hired to do this? “So, uh,” says Tim. “Did he pay you, or…”

“I’m paid,” says the guy, and rolls down his window to spit out of it, and maybe so his left arm can finally move. “Be here when you get out. Don’t take too long. ‘S not fun defending the bloody car, innit?”

“Sure,” says Tim, and elbows Jon.

Jon, who was so absorbed in his statements that he didn’t even realize the car had stopped. Jon, who was so glued to the page that he blinks as if waking from a deep and druggy sleep. Jon, who… actually looks a hell of a lot better than he did three hours ago. There’s color in his cheeks; his eyes are less tired. “What?” he says.

“We’re here,” says Tim. “Just let me talk, okay? Please. And, uh… since the car’s staying, maybe leave all that inside? It’s flammable.”

Jon looks as though Tim suggested they hunt down any infant relatives he might have and feeding them to crocodiles. “Oh!” he says, and briefly clutches manila folders to his chest. “Oh. Yes, you’re right, of course. Very good suggestion.” He takes a moment to pack it all away.

Tim breathes slowly. “I can do this.”

Yes. You can do this.

Tim swallows around the lump in his throat. “I can do this. They won’t get me. Or you. Or anybody.”

Before you, I would have assumed no human could. But you… Tim, I believe you can.

Hastur might be lying. Tim is too upset to tell right now. “Thanks.”

“All right,” says Jon, who has tucked his bag against seat in front of him. “Let’s go.”

Tim takes another breath and opens the door. His heart is pounding.

“I’ll be here,” says the driver, sounding bored, his arm and shoulder fully out of the car.

That guy has got to be eight feel tall. And wide, Tim thinks.

Hastur chuckles softly. At least he might make a good shield, should we need to run.

"Rather not," Tim murmurs, and walks.

The building in front of them used to be office space. No one uses it now, nor most of this street; and for there to be such unused real estate is, Tim knows, definitely a sign of bad things.

I can do this, he tells himself, double-checking Jude Perry’s instructions as he heads around the side toward the alley-facing door. I can do this. Jon is on his heels, and breathing quickly (afraid), and Tim does not like how it makes him feel, how that appeals, how the same patient wickedness that wants to burn the world loves that fear. I can do this, he thinks, and does not believe, and opens the unlocked door. And there—

So it had to be a good dozen people once. Maybe. There are at least twelve heads, faces stretched in terror, lying at obscene angles all over the floor.

And it had to be a good dozen recent people, too, because the blood is still fresh, and the torn limbs are still oozing, and ruptured bowels are still leaking, and Tim gags even as the sound of messy, open-mouth chewing draws his eyes away from the discard pile and to the current smorgasbord.

Three mostly-whole dead people lie there, piled, their flesh sort of crushed together like fisted ground burger, their blood shockingly red, the odor of their offal thick and greasy and bad, and a man crouches over them like something out of a zombie game.

He wears ordinary clothes—a button-down white shirt, horrifically stained, and tan slacks, and polished brown Oxfords, and for no reason Tim spots the expensive FitBit, and the neat round glasses (wire-framed) which sit folded on the floor just out of the splatter zone, and the carefully combed blond hair, and the gore up to his elbows, and the man turns with fresh flesh dangling from his mouth and pupils that have completely overrun whatever color his irises used to be, and he smiles, and flesh falls with a splut from his mouth as he speaks with an American southern accent which makes it all seem more surreal.

“Well,” says the man, standing smoothly, nary a popping knee or hesitation to indicate any kind of stiffness or lack of ability to get them. “I do declare! I didn’t expect you to walk right into my lap.”

Jon gasps. “That’s him! The guy from the hospital!”

The man glances past Tim toward Jon. “Huh,” he says. “Tastier than you were, by golly… but I think I’ll let you marinate a bit more. Now, this, though.” He takes one step toward them, and viscera squishes under his shoe like jelly. “This is a fuckin’ proper feast.”

Run! Hastur bellows.

Tim does not need a second warning.

He does not question his reach for power.

Does not question his choice to grab Jon around the waist like a scared rabbit and bolt, and run, and tear down the alley.

His terror overwhelms any mad desire to stay and burn their enemy down because it didn't work for the others and definitely will not work for him.

Jon screams.

The guy is right behind them, and Tim thinks, briefly, I need to fly! which he does not know how to do, and in desperation and terror and fear, he leaps.

“Hey!” shouts the pupil-void man behind them, below them, and Tim already knows that he has no idea how to do this, and he is not flying, but he has leaped a tall building in a single bound and they are coming down hard a couple streets over, falling as the wind steals Jon’s screams, and he does the only thing he can think to do: he imagines-yearns-demands-commands a portal to the ocean, so they can land without breaking like dropped eggs.

Suddenly they are no longer in the city at all, and smack into the water hard enough to knock out his breath.

The cold salt is a shock, and he already knows Jon inhaled it, and Tim kicks as hard as he can, eyes burning, aiming toward the light because that’s the only way he knows which way is up.

They surface, gasping, coughing, choking, their clothing dragging them down, smacked in the face by careless waves.

There is no land in sight.

Tim is dizzy. Very dizzy. Badly dizzy. “Fuck!” he manages.

Steady! Steady! Whatever invectives or oaths Hastur might have to share, he’s holding them back for now. We work together. Another portal is too much. All we need is a boat. You can do a boat. Summon it, create it. Anything. Even a fucking log. You can do this, Tim! You can do this!

Jon chokes, goes under a grasping wave. Surfaces again, eyes red and streaming, coughing up water.

Tim tries to recall the yacht from the billionaire he slept with. A twinge in his head; no go.

Tim tries to imagine an ordinary sailboat, lovely and new. A twinge in his head; no go.

Fuck it. He imagines a raft from some kid’s book he read, logs strapped together with a truly useless sail. Of course, that works.

And it is any port in a gods-damned storm. Tim gets behind Jon by some miracle and swims backwards, pulling toward that raft, which he wills not to get away from them in spite of the waves that lift them and lift the raft and put it out of their view and dunk them under and—

Hastur’s hand grabs it.

Tim muscles Jon onto it enough for him to pull himself aboard, then manages to climb on after him, gasping. Shuddering. He can feel it coming: exhaustion. Unconsciousness. And yes… he’s probably going to lose another body-part.

He wants to cry. He doesn’t want to lose body-parts. He doesn’t want to be blind, or crippled. Or lost on a raft in rough seas who the fuck knows where.

I’ve got you, says Hastur, his left arm wrapped around Tim, secure and tight. I’ve got you. You saved us. Whatever comes of this, you saved us.

“What… what…” Jon is gasping, and throws up more water.

“Guy from…” Tim clings to consciousness. The sun is horrible. He hates the sun, he decides. “The hospital? The one you texted me about?”

“I forgot about him,” Jon manages, draped over his own waist. “I froze. I… thank you. I froze.” His voice breaks. “He would’ve gotten me, and I’d have stood there. You… you saved me. Again.”

You saved us all.

Tim turns so that awful horrible terrible sun (which he does not picture blowing up because who the fuck knows anymore) doesn’t destroy his remaining eye, and curls on his side. “I’m afraid.”

Jon doesn’t know the reason. He can’t. “We'll find land. We... where the blasted… where are we?”

I know, says Hastur, who does know, and even in this state, Tim can feel that he is not eager, that he is not demanding, that Hastur feels regret. I’ve got you. Whatever comes, I’ve got you.

Tim has to believe him. He can’t stay awake any longer.

I’ve got you, Hastur’s voice says, following him into the dark from which Tim can only hope and pray he returns. I’ve got you. I will never let you go.

[legacydevice]

Do you know what old pc I should get for retro gaming?

Thanks for the question! Keep in mind that this is written from the assumption that you have no/very basic knowledge of older computers, so I apologize if this comes off a bit patronizing! Even if you know quite a bit, other people reading may not and I want to make sure people are knowledgeable before making a purchase!

If you dont care about hardware, and your current pc can handle it, I'd recommend setting up a VM with the operating system of your choice (windows xp would probably have the most flexibility). Look up a tutorial on how to set up a VM with VirtualBox, and you can easily find .iso files of your operating system of choice online. (Obviously be careful of what you download). This is also convenient because if you dont own physical copies of your games it's pretty easy to get the files from the internet archive and transfer them to the VM! If you need any more help with this, feel free to send me an ask and I can help you out!

If you're a hardware lover like me though, I definitely understand wanting to have the experience of the real thing! Please keep in mind im not totally educated about specs and technical stuff, so take my opinion with a grain of salt and look for others input as well (followers please add on / correct me)!

A lot of it depends on the kind of games you want to run, if you're fine with only 2d games you should be fine with most computers that have an appropriate cpu/ram for the year it was made! However, running 3d games will definitely need a good gpu. There are plenty of people on ebay who sell custom built computers geared towards retro gaming, I'd recommend looking into listings of those even if you do not want to buy on eBay just to get an idea of what you would like!

I personally use Facebook marketplace to look for old computers that I want to buy. A lot of times you can get pretty good deals on there! While not a gaming oriented computer, I got my micron millennia, including the crt monitor, keyboard, mouse, and speakers all for $80! It also runs pretty much any games I want to play on there, but I haven't tried any beefier 3d games yet so I'm not sure how it will do with those. You can also check local thrift stores around you as well, I've been able to find a Dell optiplex for $40 once before. I would recommend local shops rather than goodwills since most goodwills usually sell their good stuff online for auction, but it doesn't hurt to check if you're feeling lucky!

Keep in mind that buying locally very much depends on if you can drive/have access to a car, so I totally understand if this isn't an option for you. I also have only ever lived in the US so your buying options will probably be different if you are in another country. If you know of any local retro tech enthusiast groups, they could probably help you out specific to your location! Again, Facebook is a good resource to find local groups.

The other option is buying from eBay. It will be more expensive because of shipping but you can at least get something more geared to your specifics and it's more convenient if you do not have access to transportation. Searching up something like "custom retro gaming pc" or "vintage gaming pc" should help you out!

Also, if this is your first time buying an old computer, or you do not have any experience with technology repair, you may want to buy from someone who has that experience and has already refurbished the computer for you. Blown capacitors and shitty power supplies are no joke, they can be very dangerous! If you absolutely need a computer that is advertised as not working/not tested, take it to someone who knows what they're doing before plugging it in. Again, I apologize if this comes off as patronizing but I want to make sure everyone is safe and no one has any bad experiences that may turn away people from this hobby!

Another recommendation I'd give is to get something you like! I know this might be a bit obvious, but I really like windows 98 because of nostalgia reasons, and my roommate would often ask me why I didn't get a pc with windows XP. Personally all the games I want to play run fine on 98, and i'm willing to use a VM for games that need XP. Get something that makes you happy if it is within your budget and convenient for you!

I apologize if this is a bit rambly! I'm waiting for an oil change and im bored lol. Other people feel free to add on and im willing to answer more questions if needed :)

[whatsnewalycat]

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 13: Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)

Word Count: 5.6k

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, smoking, alcohol use, cannabis use, binge drinking, drunk ppl, smut, PIV sex, semi-public sex, elements of domestic abuse scattered throughout, banter, attempts at jokes, calling javi a narc again because i love it, coupla verbal arguments, fist "fighting"

Chapter Summary: Our heroes go to a party.

Notes: Chapter title from "Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)" by Elton John. Party! Drinking! Fighting! Drama! Saturday! Saturday! Saaaaturday! I think this is a fun chapter, although, it does have elements of domestic abuse scattered throughout, so maybe steer clear if you don't want to read that right now. That's all I have, thanks y'all!

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Greg’s House, Laredo, TX June 27, 1998

At least there’s a keg.

You sigh to yourself as Dan hands you a red plastic cup full of foamy, shitty beer. He leads you back past the small bonfire, into Greg’s crowded house. This reminds you of the parties you attended in high school. Throngs of unruly drunk people scattered around the property talking loudly, playing drinking games, laughing, dancing, all that. And then there’s you, who knows almost none of these people. So… Just like the parties you attended in high school, you fully intend on getting shitfaced.

Dan puts his hand on the small of your back and guides you into the spacious living room. One of Dan’s friends, Mark, waves Dan over to talk. Mark is an obnoxious sexist pig whose idea of humor is being as raunchy and offensive as possible. You’d rather get an ice pick lobotomy than be stuck in a conversation with him. While looking around the room for an alternative plan, you spot Beth talking to some of her friends. Your heart starts pounding when you recall the last time you saw her. 

Fuck, is she going to make this weird?

She must sense your gaze lingering because her eyes snap up to yours. You freeze and, in a full-blown panic move, you raise your hand to give her a peace sign. Which is a very normal, very natural way to greet someone who caught you staring at them. Right? 

She looks you up and down, raising an eyebrow and crinkling her nose, then turns to whisper to her companions, who immediately whip their heads to look at you. Which, you suppose, is on par with the high school party vibes. You’re certain they’re talking shit about you, which is awesome. Your hands feel numb and your face flushes as red as a tomato, so you turn on your heel and follow the path to get outside.

By the time you reach the keg, your cup is empty, so you refill. There are a couple people gathered around the bonfire, laughing and talking to each other, but it’s quiet compared to the house and the garage. You reach into your leather jacket pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes, plucking one between your lips and lighting it.

To keep yourself from pacing back and forth, you sit down in one of the open chairs, as far from the other people as you can get. Your eyes flick towards the sound of the screen door creaking open, and you’re relieved to see Javi walk out of the house towards the keg.

It’s been three days since you woke up in his bed, tangled up with him, skin sticking together in the early morning sunshine. When your eyes fluttered open, he was already awake playing with your hair, content to let you wake up on your own while he watched you. Good morning kisses turned into good morning sex, then you took a shower together, which turned into shower sex.

After drying off and getting dressed, he made you breakfast, singing along to old country music on the radio while he tried not to burn pancakes. Chucho came in from doing chores outside and ate with the two of you, giving Javi shit because, “Your girlfriend comes over and all of a sudden you know how to make food?”

Which, admittedly, made both of you blush. 

“Javi!” you shout and wave.

A gorgeous smile spreads across his face as he sees you. He pours a beer and sits next to you, leaning his back against the flimsy chair and crossing his legs, “How’s the party going?”

“Well, I feel overwhelmed and out of place, so it’s certainly a party,” you take a sip, “But, free beer?”

“At least there’s that,” he shrugs, peering across the bonfire at the jovial crowd, “I didn’t realize there were going to be this many people here.”

“Right? There are so many people. I haven’t even been able to make it into the garage yet, but I heard Greg set up games in there,” you inform him.

He raises an eyebrow, “Games?”

“Are you into games?” you lean towards him and ask, eyes sparkling.

“Depends on the game,” he shrugs, looking you up and down in such a blatantly sexual way it sends a shiver down your spine, “You wanna go check it out?”

“Do you want to maybe…” you scrunch up your face thoughtfully and lean in towards him, “go for a walk?”

He sits up towards you, coming so close you could stick your tongue out and lick the bridge of his nose. The idea actually kind of turns you on, given how attractive you think it is. He raises his eyebrows and looks around, then meets your eyes, “Where to?”

“Follow me,” you cast your gaze down to his mouth, then back up to his eyes.

He trails behind you around the side of the house, into an empty gazebo. When Greg gave a tour of his new home earlier, you kept a mental note of the screened-in wooden structure in case you needed a spot to "get away." You look back to make sure you’re out of view from the partygoers in the backyard before opening the screen door.

“At least it’s enclosed?” you offer, twirling around to face Javi, only to immediately be pinned up against one of the pillars as he kisses you breathless. His knee presses up into the apex of your thighs, the delicious pressure causing you to gasp into his mouth.

“You look so fucking hot tonight, baby. Started to get hard from the second I saw you,” he whispers against the flushed skin of your neck, then ravishes you down to your chest. Shivers shoot across your skin with every flick of his tongue. His hands explore your body, skating down all of your curves, then back up the hem of your short black dress. He grabs your hips and presses you down against him harder, pulling a moan from your throat.

The noise is, admittedly, far too loud for this covert operation. His hand clamps over your mouth, “Shh-shh-shh we have to be quiet, baby, can you do that?”

The way he’s talking to you is driving you wild, and you’re losing your composure rapidly.

You press your eyebrows together and look up at him through your eyelashes, nodding obediently, then start rolling your hips against his knee. A stifled moan falls from his lips, and you pull him back in to kiss you while you hump his leg like a bitch in heat.

“Good girl, oh that’s so good,” he pants, “I want to fuck you against this wall, but we have to be quiet, ok?”

“Yes daddy,” you whimper into his mouth. The noise he makes in response is downright feral. He drops his leg from your sex to unbuckle and unzip his pants, while you wrap your arms around his neck and shove your tongue into his mouth.

He helps hold you up as you wrap one leg around him, then move your underwear to the side. Your breath hitches as he sinks into your wet cunt, savoring how he feels just so fucking perfect inside you.

Goosebumps break out on your skin as he starts to drive into you, hard and fast. It’s been three days since you’ve last had him, but by the way you’re fucking, you’d think it had been years. Both of you are whispering curse words and praises to each other, panting, whining, and if someone walks by, it’s completely obvious what the two of you are doing. You pull his mouth against yours and kiss him with fervor, grabbing ahold of the hair at the nape of his neck, a fire being stoked inside you.

He lets out a moan and starts to speed up to a pace that is making the entire world around melt away until it’s just the two of you, chasing that feeling that’s consuming your whole consciousness. It builds and builds until it can’t anymore, then it topples over, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. As soon as he starts to feel you flutter and twitch around him, he lets himself go, too, spilling inside of you.

You stay latched there, catching your breath, until you notice Javi staring at you.

“What?” your eyes meet his.

He furrows his brow, “Are you ok?”

You nod your head, confused, “Why?”

“You’re crying,” he smirks.

“No fucking way,” you wipe under your eyes and, sure enough, tears. You roll your eyes and chuckle, “Ok you really need to stop making me cry.”

“I’m sorry for fucking you to tears,” he laughs. He steps back from you, letting you lower your leg, and returns his spent cock to his pants. He gestures to your platform Dr. Martens boots, “I like your shoes. You planning on kicking someone’s ass tonight?”

“Maybe. You wanna try me?” you raise an eye brow at him, earning a boyish grin from him in return. After wiping the tears from your eyes, you ask, “Ok. How do I look?”

He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and lights it in front of your face, then laughs, “Like you’ve either been crying or fucking. Or both.” His face is illuminated by the flame as he lights two cigarettes, then hands one to you.

You thank him and take it, then ask, “I still look cute though, right?”

“You look fucking amazing, cariño,” he steps close to you and kisses your forehead, then tilts your chin up so he can get a real kiss before you have to go play pretend again, “You ready?”

“Mmm almost,” you steal another long kiss, lingering on his lips, then sigh, “Ok, I’m ready.”

Thankfully, as the two of you emerge from the shadows when there’s nobody in the backyard. You hurry to get a new cup of beer and sit down at the bonfire, so you can act natural, as if you’ve ever been able to accomplish that once (see: peace sign to Beth). Javi lags behind, but soon settles into the chair next to you.

As if on cue, Kim and Dan, along with quite a few other partygoers, come outside. They fill their cups, a few sit around the bonfire. You take a deep breath and put on your party face.

“You ok?” Dan asks when he comes over to check in on you.

You furrow your brow and frown, “Y-yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he comments.

Oh, now he wants to be observant.

A nervous laugh escapes you, “I um- I smoked a little, my eyes are probably bloodshot,” you point your thumb at Javi, “Don’t tell the narc, though.”

“Former narc,” Javier corrects without missing a beat.

“Can’t be too sure,” you stage-whisper to Dan, wrinkling your nose.

Dan chuckles half-heartedly and nods, looking between you and Javi, not really appreciating or understanding the humor. Your heart starts racing when he leans in towards you. He tells you in a hushed tone, “Just wanna make sure you’re not sitting outside crying the whole time, ya know.”

Wow, thank you for your concern.

Even though you try to suppress it, a laugh bubbles up your throat, and you can’t help but joke, “Me?Crying??”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Javi chimes in sarcastically.

“Shut up,” you laugh at him, then look up to Dan, and tell him in an unconcerned manner, “I know I’m a cry baby, but I’m fine, I swear. I won’t embarrass you by crying.”

Dan scratches the back of his head and looks over to Kim, who walks up and sits in the chair next to Javi. She hands a flask to you, explaining, “It’s apple pie moonshine.”

You graciously take a few swigs, then hand it to Dan. The deceivingly sweet liquid settles like a fire in your belly. Dan takes a swig and winces while swallowing, “Shit, that’s good,” then hands the flask to Javi and asks, “You wanna play beer pong with me?”

This really is like a high school party.

A groan escapes you, “Beer pong? Dan, I suck at beer pong. Last time I was on your team you got mad at me and-“

“I was talking to Javi,” Dan cuts you off without looking at you. You shrink into yourself and drop your gaze to your feet.

Javi blinks as his head jerks back at the comment, and responds sternly, “No.”

Dan scoffs, then turns to his sister, “Kim?”

“I’m game,” she responds cheerfully to Dan, then stands up and turns to you and Javi, “Y’all should come inside, though. Don’t be such wallflowers!”

“I promise I will in a minute,” you look up and assure her with a weak smile.

She waves goodbye to you and Javi before going inside, following behind Dan, who leaves wordlessly.

You sag back into the lawn chair and peer over to Javi, who is scowling.

“What?” you ask him pointedly, already knowing that the topic of conversation would be.

“I hate the way he talks to you,” he says simply.

“To be fair, I was being kind of a dick before he was,” you shrug and grab for the flask of moonshine that Javi is still holding. He hands it to you and shakes his head. After taking a swig and allowing the fire to settle, you admit quietly, “I hate it, too. I don’t think he even likes me.”

“Why not break up with you then?” he frowns, takes the flask back, swigs.

“He knows I’ll ultimately fold to him on all decisions because I’m a pushover. That I’ll have his kids. That I’ll make… an obedient wife,” a hollow laugh escapes you, “He literally told me that, you know.”

You hear all the air whoosh from his lungs. He hands you the flask without needing you to ask for it.

You take a swig, then continue in a whisper, unable to stop yourself from uttering something you’ve barely allowed yourself to think about, “Sometimes I think that he wanted me to stop working… so that I can’t leave.”

“Has he ever hurt you?” Javi searches your eyes the best he can in the light of the bonfire. There’s a deadly seriousness behind his eyes that sends your pulse racing.

“No,” you assure him quickly. And it’s technically the truth He’s thrown things towards you when he was mad, but they haven’t hit you. He can be mean, but relationships are like that when you’re fighting, right?

“We’re going to have to deal with this eventually,” he warns.

We

“We?” your heart flips upside down.

He shrugs, “Yeah, we. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I- I can figure it out, Javi.”

There’s a long pause before he nods, “Ok. Let me know if you need anything.”

Run away with me.

Your stomach lurches at the idea of saying it out loud.

Javi grabs the flask from you and takes a swig, letting the words settle into silence. He leans forward so his elbows are on his knees, brow furrowed, lips pursed, thinking.

You want to ask what he’s thinking about, but you’re scared of what the answer could be. He could think you’re weak. He could be thinking of ways to get himself out of this situation that will very obviously implode.

He could be thinking of ways to get me out of this situation.

He clears his throat, pulling both of you from your thoughts, lights two cigarettes, gives one to you. Eventually the other people outside go back in the house and it’s just the two of you again.

“What do you want to do?” he asks.

“Right now?” you blow a raspberry, “Fuck, right now I want to… not worry about this. I want to have fun.”

“You wanna play beer pong?” he mocks Dan, suppressing a smart ass smile.

“Oh, are you talking to me?” you play along, sitting up and pointing to yourself.

He feigns a sneer and shakes his head, pointing to a tree, “No, I was talking to that guy.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, causing him to start laughing too.

You start to feel more fluid as the booze takes its toll, working much more effectively than the beer. You and Javi wander into the garage, which is fucking huge. It’s the kind of garage that people don’t really use for storage, because it’s more of a party space: neon beer signs, posters of pin-up girls, a couch, etc. Greg is a single guy who makes too much money in real estate, so the house, although huge and beautiful, is a complete bachelor pad.

The beer pong table is off to one side of the garage, Dan and Kim playing against two of the most generic white men you’ve ever laid eyes on. A card table is set up nearby, seating 4 people who are playing, what appears to be, presidents and assholes. About a half dozen people are lined on each side of a long table cheering and chugging and flipping cups. Between these three games, there are throngs of people in between, spectating and having animated conversations amongst each other. There’s a couple dancing together in a very drunk and overtly sexual manner to “Too Close” by Next, which is blasting from speakers mounted to the wall.

“Jesus Christ give me the flask,” you groan. He hands it over after taking a long swig. There’s only a little left, so you finish it off. Your mouth gets a little sweaty because the last pull was much bigger than you thought it would be.

“Cards?” he asks, tipping his head towards to the two empty chairs at the card table.

You nod at him, then approach the table, pointing between you and your handsome companion, “Can we play with y’all?”

They welcome you both in and confirm that they are, indeed, playing presidents and assholes. The group is friendly and fun, although one of them is giving Javi fuck-me-eyes, causing you much more distress than you thought it would. It doesn’t help that she’s absolutely gorgeous.

“Are you two like…? Together?” she asks while the deck is being shuffled by the asshole (you). The question flusters you enough that you fuck up and spray cards across the table.

“Jesus Christ, sorry. Hands are malfunctioning!” you laugh nervously while grabbing the cards.

Javi snorts at you, eyes shining with amusement, then turns to her, “No, we’re just friends.”

She takes this answer as an open call to flirt with him, scooting closer, touching his arm, complimenting him. He’s not reciprocating, but he’s not stopping her, either. You try to play it cool and avoid looking at either of them while you grow increasingly uncomfortable. Even though you manage to redeem yourself and become president during this round, you shove your chair back and announce, “I have to pee, sorry,” then turn to weave through the garage and out the side door.

You take some deep breaths, standing outside the door for a few moments to see if Javi follows you out. He doesn’t. Swallowing the pang of rejection radiating from your heart, you go in the house to use the bathroom (because you weren’t lying when you said you have to pee). While you’re washing and drying your hands, you check yourself out in the mirror to make sure there wasn’t anything obvious, like “I HAD SEX IN THE GAZEBO WITH MY LOVER” written on your forehead. There isn’t. What is obvious, however, is that you’re tipsy.

When you re-emerge from the bathroom, you wander into the kitchen and find there’s liquor and mixers on the counter. As you pour yourself a whiskey ginger, Dan walks in the house, spots you immediately, and flashes a toothy smile, “Hey.”

“Hey! How did your game go?” you ask enthusiastically, trying to shake off the energy from the unpleasant conversation that took place earlier.

“Good. Played three games, dominated all of them. What have you been up to?” he leans against the counter next to you.

“I was playing P&A with Javi, but I came in to use the bathroom. I’m not sure what to do now, though,” you bite the inside of your cheek, take a gulp of your drink then look down into it, “I was thinking of going back out, but there’s this woman that Javi is talking to and I didn’t want to, you know, be a third wheel or whatever.”

“Oh yeah, the super hot one? I don’t blame him for going after her, I’d hit that if I had the chance,” he chuckles. You nod and form a weak smile, then it’s like a switch flips. You hear him scoff, “Jesus Christ, babe, can I take you anywhere without you being a fucking bummer?”

Your eyes snap up to his and the blood drains from your face, “W-what?”

“All I said was she’s hot, and then you’re sitting there looking all sad and shit like I said I was going to fuck her or something. I just- I get so tired of you fucking moping around,” he pushes himself off the counter and crowds you into the corner as you try not to hyperventilate, “How do you think it makes me look when I bring you places and you’re like this? I work so hard to make you happy, you know, and you never appreciate it. You’re so selfish.”

Your brain is spinning, trying to make sense of what’s happening. You suppose he’s right, you’re always a bit morose. Maybe you do need to lighten up. Maybe you are selfish.

I’m a fucking monster. He’s giving me everything and I’m a selfish brat, leeching off of him and fucking someone else while he works hard.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you choke out, then look down at your feet, “I appreciate everything you do for me, I do, really. I’m sorry.”

Tears start to well up in your eyes and you’re trembling. Panic is buried beneath your chest.

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper in monotone, looking up to meet his gaze.

“I just want to see you happy, babe,” he tells you, eyebrows knit together, ocean blue eyes peering down at you. You nod and plaster on (what you think is) a convincing fake smile. His lips press against yours again, then pulls you into a hug. You collapse into it, relieved to be back on his good side and grateful things aren’t being escalated further. He pulls back, kisses your forehead, then smiles, “Why don’t you go make yourself presentable then come back out?”

“Ok,” you sniffle, “I’ll be out in a bit.”

So that’s what you do. You go into the bathroom, take deep breaths until the panic subsides, convince yourself there’s not an aching in your chest, and you drink your whiskey ginger as fast as you can. Everything is fine and you’re happy. Soon, your eyes aren’t as glossy and bloodshot. You re-apply your lipstick and try smiling into the mirror.

Good enough.

You open the door to leave just as Javi is about to knock, practically running him over.

“There you are!” he exclaims, catching you by your shoulders as you ricochet off of him, “I’ve been looking for you. Where did you go?”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you tuck your hair behind your ear. You cast your gaze to the side, “I’ve been here in the house. I um- I didn’t want to bother you and ruin your chances with that woman. The hot chick.”

His eyebrows raise as he places his hands on his hips, “The hot chick?”

“At the card table,” you shrug and look up at him, plastic smile in place, trying to suppress your feelings of inadequacy and rejection, “and it’s ok, I get it. She’s like super attractive and I don’t want to fuck up your life any further so-“

He shakes his head and furrows his brow, throwing up his hands in confusion, “Wait- what? What are you doing? I’m not interested in her.”

You blink, “You’re not?”

“No, of course not,” he huffs.

You shake your head, not understanding how that’s true, “Even Dan said he would fuck her if he had the chance-“

“What the fuck did he say to you?” Javi spits. A partygoer tries to enter the bathroom, squeezing between you and the open door behind you. He grunts, glaring at the intrusion, then pulls you behind him down the hallway into a bedroom. The light flicks on and he shuts the door., then grinds out, “Why would he say that to you?”

You shake your head, avoiding eye contact, “Never mind. I just-“

“No, not never mind. Talk to me, baby. What did he say?”

You let this request roll around your brain for a bit, trying to decide what to tell him. How to put yourself in a light that doesn’t make him run the other way.

Do I bring it to his attention that I’m just a huge bummer? Surely, he’s come to this conclusion already, right? If I talk about it, will he realize Dan is right and leave?

Before you can formulate a decision, he starts again, “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you when you left the garage. I thought you were coming right back, and I was still playing. I knew she was hitting on me and I should have thought about how that would affect you.”

This feels… so weird in contrast to your conversation with Dan. You search his face for a sign that he’s fucking with you, then place your palm against his chest and meet his eyes, “It’s fine, really. I shouldn’t expect you to read my mind. I just- I figured, obviously you’d realize she’s a better option.”

He grumbles from deep in his throat, cups your face with his hands, then presses his forehead to yours, “That’s just not true, cariño. I need you to try to trust that I am crazy about you. I have been, for a long time.”

“Really?” you whimper.

His lips meet yours, then he runs his tongue along your bottom lip. Your tongue meets his and they dance, before he pulls back from the heated exchange. He steps back, lacing your fingers with his, “Tell me”

“N-nothing, it’s nothing, it’s fine now. I’m just sorry for being so jealous,” you avoid his question, tugging at his shirt and arching your back to bring him closer again. He doesn’t budge. You sigh and drop your hands to your sides, “Please, Javi, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I want to go have fun. I’ve just been a giant fucking bummer all night. I’m done.”

“Fine,” he concedes, looking irritated.

You pout and link your arms around his neck, “Don’t be grumpy, baby.”

“I don’t get a good feeling about him, that’s all,” he admits, then kisses your forehead and brings his hands to your waist, “I want you to be safe.”

“I know you do. And I appreciate that,” you smile. He’s a little overprotective, you can’t knock him for that.

The two of you make it back out to the bonfire, where your liquid courage takes over and you convince a few of the people sitting around the fire to tell ghost stories. You have at least two more whiskey gingers, which carry you over the line from tipsy to drunk. Soon you’re in the garage, sitting on a couch, smoking a joint with Kim, cackling as the two of you try to narrate the Dan’s beer pong game like sportscasters. Javi is sitting in a folding chair on the other side of the couch’s arm rest from you, smoking a cigarette, trying to suppress his own amused laughter. You’re legitimately having a good time.

“What’ve we got over here?” Dan’s douchey friend Mark chortles as he approaches the couch, then wedges his ass between you and Kim. You grimace involuntarily the second his grating voice reaches your ears.

“Hi, Mark,” Kim wanes, scooting over to let him sit without touching her, “You want a hit?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he takes the joint from her and inhales, holds, then exhales and passes to you, “Here you go, sweetheart.”

You pluck the joint from him, annoyed that he got his slobber all over it. He unabashedly looks you up and down, pausing to stare even longer at your tits when you reach around him to hand the joint back to Kim. In your infinite drunk wisdom, you snap, “Take a fucken picture, why doncha?”

“I would love to, thanks,” he laughs, then leans towards you and finally looks at your face, “You’re uh, you’re Dan’s chick, right?”

“Dan’s chick,” you scoff to yourself, then out loud, “Sure, yeah.”

You’re leaning as far away from him as you can, and hear Javi shift towards the interaction. Mark snickers and winks at you while handing you the joint, “Oh yeah, I’ve heard about you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” you don’t take the offering from his outstretched hand, so he hands it to Kim, whose wide bloodshot eyes are ping ponging between you the two of you.

Mark leans toward you so close that you can smell his whiskey drenched breath, “Well I heard from your old man that you’re quite a handful in bed and I uh,” his eyes flick to Javi’s for a second, then back to yours, “I’m guessing by the way he’s following you like a puppy dog, that Javi here would agree,” he shrugs, “So, you know… call me if you ever have room on your roster.”

You’re utterly speechless and can only gape at him as he stands up off the couch and saunters away towards a different group of people. Red starts to creep into your field of vision and before you can think out the consequences, you jump up and walk after him, fist clenched by your side. As your adrenaline starts pumping, everything happens so fast and so slow at the same time. You grab Mark by the shoulder and spin him around, then punch him square in the face, reducing him to a writhing, crying mound on the floor instantly.

“Fucking cunt, what the fuck? I was just kidding!” he yells, grabbing at his own face.

You kick him in the gut and scream, “FUCK YOU!” It dawns on you that everyone in the room is staring at you. Aside from the music that’s still bumping, the only thing you hear the sound of Mark groaning.

You crouch down over him and pull him up by the shirt collar to whisper in his ear through gritted teeth, “If I ever hear you’ve been talking about me like that again, I will fucking castrate you. Do you understand me?”

He nods frantically.

Like a piece of trash, you discard him on the floor, then walk out out of the garage. The second the door slams behind you, loud chattering and laughter erupts from the other side. You light a cigarette and walk away, finding a seat by the dwindling bonfire, not wanting to know what anyone says about what just happened.

You haven’t done anything like that in almost 15 years. Must be all of the high school party nostalgia stirring up horrible coping mechanisms from your teenage years.

Or all the fucking whiskey. Which is basically the same thing.

Javi comes walking up out of the dimly lit path from the garage, smoking a cigarette. He sits down beside you, shakes his head, and chuckles, “That was amazing. How’s your hand?”

You hold it out to him, pouting, “It hurts so bad.”

He pinches the cigarette between his lips and grabs your hand with both of his, poking and prodding, “We should go get some ice. Fucking asshole deserved it, though.”

Dan comes storming up the path, Kim trailing behind him calmly. He throws his hands in the air, “What the fuck was that?”

You yank your hand back to your side and stand, matching Dan’s aggressive energy as you approach him, “He was saying that you told him I’m a good lay and he wants a turn fucking me. Why the fuck would you tell him that?”

“He was being a total creep before that, too, staring down her dress and whatever,” Kim tells Dan, then turns to you and smiles, “Totally had it coming. That was bad ass.”

“Yeah except she could go to jail. It doesn’t matter how ‘bad ass’ it was,” Dan bites off.

From his seat, Javi comments with an exhale of blue smoke, “He’s not going to tell the cops he got his ass kicked by a girl.”

“Dan, why did you tell him about that?” you ask again, this time more of a plea than an aggressive demand.

“Guys talk, babe. It’s a compliment,” he shrugs, “Right, Javi? He knows.”

“I don’t,” comes Javi’s voice from behind you.

You sigh, completely exhausted and done with this conversation, “Whatever. I should ice my hand.”

“We can do that at home, babe, let’s go.” Dan demands, beckoning you closer.

“No, I want to do it now. I’ll meet you in the car,” you say firmly, then walk into the house to rifle through Greg’s freezer.

When you come back out with a bag of peas pressed to the top of your hand, Javi is sitting by the fire alone, staring at the smoldering remains of wood. He looks up and smirks weakly when he sees you, “Heading out?”

“Looks like it,” you shrug, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nods, then peaks around to make sure nobody is in the vicinity before he stands up and gives you a kiss goodnight.

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[hakirachan]

Hey guys. Hakira here. Just a rant below the cut, read if you want. Or don’t. I don’t care.

I usually don’t vent on this blog. It’s mostly full of crack, shits and giggles, which is why you probably weren’t expecting this kind of post. But I just need to explain something in case I suddenly stop posting one day. (I know you guys probably don’t care; in fact, most of y’all probs won’t see this, but I needed to post this anyways. Sorry.) It’s kinda depressing so feel free to keep scrolling now that you know that.

So, I’m at a really shitty point in my life. It feels like everyone’s against me, like I’ve got almost nobody supporting me, and I feel like I’m hated by everyone I’ve ever looked up to. I know, sooo original. Well, it’s deeper than that.

I’m still living with my parents (somehow), but it’s always been pretty toxic ever since I was a kid. As the youngest, I can guarantee that the “youngest sibling is the favorite child, oldest gets all the work” stereotype is complete bullshit. I was told to do some things that kids that age shouldn’t have had to do. At just 6-7 years old, I was forced to take heavy bags & boxes (and I mean 40-50 pounds each) of my dad’s old shit down to the curb and wait there until they got picked up by his friend (“to make sure it didn’t get blown away” or something like that) in the middle of a fucking snowstorm, with temps below -10 degrees Fahrenheit [around -23 degrees Celsius]. Almost lost my fingers from that. They made me set out & pack up most things for a family campout on my own when I wasn’t even staying at the campsite; I was staying home with a mean, nicotine-addicted (took out a cigarette the moment my parents pulled out of the driveway; refused to stop smoking even though the smoke was making my 8-year-old body nauseous) babysitter because I had a B- in one of my classes. I know this doesn’t sound that bad, but the problem is that I wasn’t even 10 when these things were happening. It’s not really anything too serious, but I was still basically ripped out of my childhood way too early. But, enough about my childhood; now my present life. I’ve relied on my friends for comfort for most of my life because of my dysfunctional home. Recently, though, my friends have become more distant and toxic. Spreading rumors, talking shit, leaving me out, and pulling pranks that go too far (like ruining the outfit I worked so hard to make the day before my band concert). I’ve only got three friends I trust; however, 2 of them I hardly talk to anymore (not because anything happened, we’ve just got different things going on in our lives). So, there’s only one real friend who’s always stuck with me. However, there’s nothing he can do about my family at home. As I said earlier, my family’s always been toxic and dysfunctional. It should have gotten better over the years, but no. It’s gotten worse. They’ve cussed me out, threatened me, and recently, I’ve even been a victim to some domestic violence. I talked to the cops about it, and to a lady from the state who deals with these kinds of things. However, since there were no visible marks and no proof of it, they couldn’t log it as abuse because they can’t just go off of what is said; they need some hard evidence to actually do anything. So, since I don’t have the money to move out of my parent’s house, I had to watch my only hope at escaping this mental and verbal (and now some physical) abuse quite literally walk out the door. I’ve been having suicidal thoughts and self-harm urges for the longest time. And, I’m ashamed to admit it because I’ve talked so many people out of it irl, but recently I have been self-harming. Thing is, while I had helped so many other people, nobody ever helped me through these dark times in my life. In fact, some people (who I helped through their trauma) literally told me to self-harm and to just kill myself when I tried venting to them. I just can’t deal with this shit anymore. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I can’t see the “bright side” anymore. There is no more “bright side” for me. I’m on the edge right now, literally. But I’ve got you guys to thank for getting me this far. Thank you so much for being here for me, even though I don’t usually vent, and you guys didn’t know what I’ve been going through up until now, so you weren’t actively trying to support me. Even so, thanks for appreciating me and not treating me like I’m more worthless than a dead plant. I love you all, and I hope you guys have great lives. So, if I change my mind, then I’ll see you guys later. If not…well, don’t mourn me, I’ll be in a better place. So long, guys. also im gonna give this a few days in case things get better (though let’s be honest, they’re probably not gonna) so don’t miss me just yet. If I’m gone for like, over a week, then you can assume I finally freed myself from this hell

shoutout to my mutuals, you guys are awesome and were great help to me (im not gonna pin you so you don’t feel obliged to read/reply to my dumb rant): dumb-mc-sheep cldhart08 acronym49 cricketproofreads im-an-angy-alpaca trash-opposum

And special shoutouts to my two fav mutuals (sorry other moots) @family-disappointment and @avatarofstars! You two were some of the greatest motivators for me to keep going. I’m sorry that your efforts (while unintentional) probably weren’t enough this time. I love you both and wish you both the best lives you can have! (And sorry for bothering you with the tag, just wanted you to see this last little note to you both💜)

This is Hakira, signing out.

:)

[the-archangel]

Johnny's Home

I like writing for Johnny and don't do it often enough, I guess I just like being in Kerry and V's fluffy bubble!

Johnny is sat in V’s old apartment looking at the four walls, chain-smoking and going slowly batshit crazy.

At first, it suited him well; perfectly in fact, there was a bed, a shower and a couple of millionaire chooms to pull you out of the shit not 5 minutes walk away, as well as a nova strong-room that he thought he might turn into a sauna one day. It had plenty of floor space, preem views, V had even let him keep the cat.

Back in Samurai’s early days, when a dry, safe place to sleep wasn’t guaranteed, this would’ve been unimaginable luxury, but he’d known success since then, known what it was to have a door on your bedroom or a kitchen that was more than a microwave and a vending machine. He couldn’t cook for shit but that wasn’t the point, he’d like the chance to try, or at least to persuade other people to.

V had messaged to say he was coming over, he showed up a few times a week pretending he was checking on Nibbles, but Johnny knew it was really to check on him, make sure he was taking his meds, eating, doing his physio and shit. Johnny didn’t mind, ever since he’d been back he’d found himself craving V’s presence, it calmed him, filled an empty space, and V felt the same. For nearly a year he’d lived with Johnny in his head, then for another with a Johnny shaped void, now Johnny was actually here to talk to again, to argue with, to punch on occasion, it felt good, nova in fact, they made each other feel whole.

Kerry was not particularly comfortable with all of this. If you haven’t had a construct taking over your brain which then gets ripped out but later returns as a solid, real, annoying human being, you couldn’t possibly understand.  V had tried to explain why he needed him around, but it just led to arguments, sulking (Kerry) and punching shit (V). Kerry had tried to tell him what a 5 star bastard Johnny could be, how selfish he was, how he used people, how it had taken him 50 years of therapy to get over him and how he had no intention of relapsing now. V understood, he really did, Kerry and Johnny had both told him the shitty things that went on between them, but Johnny was a part of V, there just wasn’t anything that he could do about that.

V let himself into the apartment and stepping carefully over the laundry, guitars, food containers and empty bottles lying on the floor, plonks himself down next to Johnny on the couch. “Place looks like shit.”

“Thanks, you look like shit.”

Banter over, Johnny rummages through a pile of detritus and finds a half-full bottle of tequila which they share in companionable silence.

“Wanna move V, the walls are closing in on me here, feels claustrophobic, like I can’t breathe.”

V dwells on this for a moment, “Well, what are you looking for? We can prolly help you out, have to talk to Ker though, don’t think he’d like it, but I can usually talk him around.”

“Don’t need your fucking charity V, in case you’ve forgotten I was a fucking rock star, gonna get me my royalties back and I’ll be fine.”

“Um, so, you going to hire a lawyer?”

Johnny snorts, “Shit no, corpo scopbags, gonna do it myself.”

V makes a mental note to put some eddies aside, what Kerry doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Make a list of what you’re looking for and I’ll swing by in a couple of days and help you look.”

Unusually for Johnny and V, this is actually quite a sensible idea, so after V leaves Johnny begins to write his list.

-

Later that evening, V is holding court at the Afterlife. He settled into his role as its king more easily than he liked to think and he enjoyed it, the only sour note was that he knew how blown away Jackie would’ve been by it all. V raised a drink to him nightly and had his picture behind the bar.

Kerry was coming over to keep him company, maybe grab a couple of drinks, V still got a thrill when he saw him, especially under the smoke-dimmed neon of the club which highlighted the blue of his eyes and glittered off the gold implants sweeping down his fucking beautiful cheekbones, and so he was feigning attention on what was going on around him and looking out for his input. V stands as Kerry arrives at the booth, the hangers-on around him know it’s time to leave, so Kerry has a choice of seats and chooses the one on V’s lap, pushing him back down onto the seat and planting a big, wet kiss on his forehead.

The regulars are used to Kerry and V’s antics and pay little or no attention, but the look of shock on new faces when a world famous rock star walks in and starts making out with the club’s young boss man always makes V smirk.

“Mmmm,  I missed you today baby,” purrs Kerry into V’s ear, “Watcha been up to?”

“Oh you know, meetings, looking at a car, went to see Johnny.”

Kerry’s eyes darken and he sits back on V’s knee. He’s not in the mood for an argument, needs to keep V sweet for what he has planned for him later, so chooses the lesser of two evils to complain about.

“Another car? Shit V I thought you’d looked at selling some of em, not buying more.”

V looks down smiling to himself, his diversionary tactic had worked better than he imagined, “I know Ker, but a guy I was selling one to had one he thought I’d like. What can you do?” the ex-merc reasons, shrugging his shoulders and putting his hand high on his input’s thigh.

Kerry sighs, he loves the gonk and can tolerate his stupid car collection if he must. “OK fine, but from now on it’s one in – one out.” The wicked smirk tells V that this turn of phrase is not entirely innocent or coincidental.

-

A couple of days later, V is back at his old apartment, it takes him an age to make his way from the lift having to stop to chat with Coach Fred, Wilson and Barry on the way, he reckons that it’d be a shame if Johnny moved and he had no excuse to see his old friends, maybe he could sub-let he muses.

 Johnny is lying on the bed reading a screamsheet and frowning, so V throws himself down next to him resting his chin on his shoulder, looking at what he’s reading.

“Would you look at that,” Johnny says, “Us Cracks have split up, musical differences. Shame, I liked them.”

“Wouldn’t’ve thought it was your sort of music.”

Johnny looked over his ever-present sunglasses at V, “Their music’s scop, teenybop shit with lyrics written by a six year old... but I liked the girls, they were hot.”

V should’ve known, that time he and Kerry met them at Riot Johnny was besotted, talked about how they were the future, but would look better with a bit of meat on their racks, he’s a class act.

“M-hm, Red called Kerry a few weeks ago, she wants to go in a more rock direction, the other girls are still into their dumb lazrpop, so she asked him if he’d work with her, do some writing, producing, whatever the shit it is that you musos do.”

Johnny appeared thoughtful...

V guessed what his friend was thinking, “No way Johnny, she’s done nothing to deserve an asshole like you drooling over her while she works, besides, Kerry would never allow it.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, changes the subject and shows V the list he’s written.

1 – bed

2- shower

3-

V turns to stare at Johnny, he knows the rocker is daring him to say something about it but can only see his own baffled reflection staring back from Johnny’s red lenses.

“What? I started and got bored.” Johnny shrugs by way of explanation.

Together, they spend the afternoon working on the list, V sticks it to the wall and they read it back in their heads with matching expressions, both scowling and moving their lips as they read. Johnny crosses his arms, takes a step back and nods in satisfaction, “Nova, that about covers it.”

V looks over smirking, “You know what you’ve done don’tcha? You’ve perfectly described Kerry’s old villa, the one you said was a Corpo’s wet dream, the one that you wouldn’t be seen dead in even though that’s exactly what you were doing at the time, the one......”

Johnny shut’s him down with a look, “Nah, I wanted a kitchen, that shit hole had a hot water tap and a coffee machine and for some fucking reason 64 cans of beef on the counter with no way of fucking cooking em.”

Turning to look at V’s grinning face, Johnny snaps, “What??”

“There was a kitchen, it was fucking A, it was in the cellar through that locked door. Kerry locked it after he set fire to it heating up some pizza when he was drunk so’s he’d never be tempted to go down there again. I fixed it up though, state-of-the-art cooker, pizza oven, marble worktops, kinda miss it...”

Johnny huffs and throws himself on the couch; V bounces down next to him, bringing the list.

Bedroom, separate from rest of living space

Shower, big enough for 2 or 3, variable height showerhead, good water pressure, added hot tub preferable.

Kitchen, basic, functional

Optional outside space, big enough to party

Inside space, big enough to party

Bar area

Space for guitars, recording equipment etc

V appears thoughtful, “I‘ve got a bit of a... what do you call it when you’ve got a few properties and rent them out?”

“Being a corpo scopbag? Being a dick?”

“Ha ha, no, begins with ‘P’”

“Being a prick then?”

“No...portfolio, that’s it I’ve got a bit of a property portfolio. You could look at some of those.”

Johnny looks incredulously at the ex-merc, wondering what magical fuckery had to take place in the universe for this gonk to not only own a fleet of (mostly) preem cars and be living in a penthouse with a rock star, but also have a fucking ‘portfolio’, whatever the fuck that was.

V could read his mind – almost literally,

“What? I worked hard, invested well...”

“Fucked a millionaire....”

“No actually, well yeah, but this is nothing to do with Ker, it’s all me.”

V logged into his old laptop and showed Johnny the pics and specs of his properties.

The one in Northside was pretty crappy and small, and besides, V used it when he was netrunning so that was out. Judy’s old apartment might have fit the bill, but V still hoped that she’d be coming back one day, so that’s off the list.

What about this one, large open living space, super-size shower, kitchen-dining area?

Johnny looks over the ex-merc’s shoulder with interest,

“Hmm, maybe. Where is it?”

V looks him in the eye,

“Corpo Plaza.”

V laughs hysterically at the look on Johnny’s face and can’t stop even when the other man punches him hard in the arm to make him shut up. Eventually V calms down enough to speak, but still can’t stop smirking,

“So that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“Fuck off.”

-

-

V didn’t keep secrets from Kerry, he maybe didn’t always tell him everything, but he certainly never lied, so when his mainline asks what he’s got planned for the day, V has to grudgingly admit,

“Told Johnny I’d help him find a new apartment, gonna take him over to The Glen, see what he thinks.”

V braces himself...

“No,” Kerry says quietly.

“The fuck Ker?”

“No,” he repeats, “ Johnny was a tumour in my brain way before he wormed his way into yours. He takes what he wants and leaves the empty shell behind, I should know. I’m not gonna let him fuck you up any more than he already has V. You’re not fucking going, I need you here today.”

V is momentarily silenced. He knows that Kerry has issues with Johnny, but up until now he figured that they’d eventually work it out and they’d all rub along together alright. Add to this to the fact that Kerry putting his foot down was pretty damn hot and V is left torn.

“But Ker, I promised...”

“Don’t give a shit V, not gonna stand back and watch him do to you what he did to me.”

V wraps his arms around his lover’s shoulders pulling him in tightly and sighs as Kerry’s arms slip around his waist. If he had to choose one of them it would always be Kerry and much as Johnny is a part of him, this is where he belongs right now. He fires off a message making his excuses and pulls Kerry down onto the couch...

-

Johnny reads the message and curses under his breath, not because he can’t see the apartment, but more because he was pretty sure that Kerry would’ve stopped being a dick by now and at least have tried to have a conversation with him.

 Why would the guy cough up half his fortune to bring him back from the dead and then ignore him, didn’t make sense.

V had flicked him the coords and the code for the Glen apartment anyway, might as well swing by and take a look.

Begrudgingly, V had let him have his Porsche back, so Johnny hops inside and takes a moment to wistfully run his hands over the steering wheel before setting off for Heywood. It’s not a long trip, definitely not long enough for the four-figure bounty Johnny racks up with his erratic driving, but what the hell, the car’s still in V’s name after all.

As soon as he sees the outside of the building, Johnny suspects that this might not be for him, a fact confirmed by the snooty concierge and catalogue-fresh decor of the lobby, but stepping into the main living space he’s pleasantly surprised and when he spots the pool table he’s pretty much sold.

He’ll give it a couple a days to see how it vibes with him.

-

-

It turned out that Kerry was right when he said that he needed V with him today, but not in a way either of them expected.

After a lazy lunch, Kerry had appointments to keep, a meeting with the corpos at his label followed by a rare personal appearance at Riot later on. Being on his short leash for the day made V the designated driver, he didn’t mind, he felt grounded driving the streets of the city, like he and it belonged to each other.

V stayed in the car while Kerry met with his staff at the label, he’d tried going to one of these meetings once before and Kerry still tells people about how he had to poke him in the leg with a pen to stop him snoring. He plays with the radio to bide the time, smiling when ‘Black Dog’ begins to play.

V: Hey, the radio’s playing your song.

Johnny: Only another 54,999 plays and I’ll be able to afford this apartment.

V: How you liking it?

J: It’s fine, apart from the corpo dick in reception. Gonna hang here for a couple of days, see how it fits.

Kerry comes stalking towards his Aerondight, the one V saves for when he’s got something to make up for, and throws himself into the passenger seat glowering towards the MSM building. V doesn’t ask, Kerry’s meetings always end like this and he’ll tell him about it at great length later.

“Riot then?”

“Mhm”

The car into the docking area under the club, much as he loves this city there’s no way he’s leaving this beauty out on the streets, and he and Kerry make their way to the dressing room. V lights a cigarette and passes it to his input, then pours a drink that he also passes over. Kerry, sat gazing into the starkly lit mirror, grabs his arm, “Thank you babe.”

V isn’t sure if he means for the drink, the cig or some general, expansive thing, either way his answer would be the same,

“No problem Ker.”

They pass the hour or so until Kerry’s appearance laughing about the first time they’d been in this room together, intimidating the now sadly disbanded Us Cracks girls. V cheerfully admits that he was already madly in love with the rockerboy at this point, while Kerry would only go so far as to say that he found the bratty young merc intriguing and insanely hot, V was more than happy with that.

“What’s the crowd like?” asks Kerry, confident in V’s ability to hack all and every device within a 5 mile radius.

His newly upgraded Kiroshis flip him through every camera in the place, “Pretty packed out, anyone would think someone important was coming.”

The rocker narrows his eyes and twists V’s nipple hard, then pecks him on the cheek, that remark will not go unpunished later he suspects.

At the appointed hour, V guides his man around to the backstage area and sets himself up at the back of the crowd to keep an eye on things. The crowd are giddy, but good natured. They sing along with a soulful acoustic version of ‘Chippin In’, they laugh in all the right places at Kerry’s hastily written speech and queue up dutifully to ask their questions. Most of them had spent a small fortune to be here and weren’t going to waste it by making trouble, some of the others had won the right to be there and were making the most of their good fortune, but there’s always somebody who has to spoil it.

V sensed something was amiss before he saw it. Years of merc work had attuned him to noticing things that others would miss, and what he noticed right now was a space in an otherwise crowded room, and the space was moving towards the stage, towards Kerry.

The ex-merc feels for Archangel in his holster and makes his way along the wall down to the stage, keeping in line with the disturbance in the crowd. Flashing his optics he can make out some sort of cloaking software surrounding the hazy shape of a well-built man, a well-built man aiming a gun at the best thing in V’s life.

Acting on pure instinct he leaps onto the stage knocking Kerry onto the ground and covering him with his own body, the men hit the ground as three shots ring out, the room falls silent before erupting in panic and screams.

V quickly checks that Kerry is unharmed and leaps into the panicking crowd to give chase, Kerry can only watch as the crowd closes behind his mainline’s back and the venue’s security finally show up to lead him to safety.

The chase takes V through to the back of the club and into the alley beyond where he tackles the man to the ground. Now he can see him up close the crazed look of early cyberpsychosis is clear, but he’s is pretty unforgiving when it comes to someone trying to flatline his mainline and takes an unseemly amount of pleasure in frying his synapses and finishing the job with a shot to the head.

Kerry sits fidgeting in the dressing room, “Shit V, c’mon, where are you?” he whispers under his breath. A commotion outside captures his attention, his initial panic turns to relief, hearing his partner’s raised voice as he tears a strip off the club’s security guards. The rocker opens the door to watch V in action, it turns him on no end to see his man sticking up for him, but on actually setting eyes on his mainline he feels only alarm as he watches the blood dripping from the fingers of his left hand and pooling at his feet.

V turns towards him and flashes a bright smile, before collapsing onto the floor.

-

Several hours later, Kerry is sharing a bottle of bourbon with Vik while V sleeps it off on the operating table. His sub-dermal armour had absorbed the worst of it, and his pain suppressors had stopped him from passing out initially but the blood loss combined with the adrenaline spike had nearly finished him off. He’d live but he was going to be pretty sore when he came around.

It was nearly three days later when he finally woke up, Kerry had been snoozing on and off on an old office chair by the side of V’s bed so the first thing V sees on waking is world famous rock superstar Kerry Eurodyne greasy-haired, snoring and drooling onto his three day old clothes.

“Hey Ker,” he croaks through parched lips, “you OK?”

Kerry’s eyes snap open and he grabs for V’s hand, shouting for Vik at the same time.

“I’m fine, thanks to you. You had us worried for a while there, how you feelin?” he asks softly.

V ponders this for a moment, everything seems to be working, but bits of him feel like they’re on fire.

“I’ve been worse.”

Vik shows him the bullets he dug out of his arm, neck and chest before putting them in the jar with all the others.

“Good to have you back son. You don’t need me to tell you that you lucked out again, but one day that luck’s gonna run out.”

“I know Vik, but if it hadn’t’ve been me it would’ve been Kerry and ...”

V realised that he couldn’t finish the sentence, just the thought of what could have been was enough to choke him.

Vik pats his shoulder, “Take two of these twice a day you’re good to go.”

On the taxi journey home the two lovers are unusually quiet, both lost in thought. V still pondering what might have been and Kerry, for the four hundredth or so time marvelling that V literally nearly just died for him.

Reaching the villa, Kerry helps V shower and change and then cleans himself up before they both fall into the bed, not emerging until late the next day.

-

Meanwhile...

Johnny is pissed, V’s ignoring his calls and he needs to offload onto him, selfish gonk.

Since his return, they hadn’t been apart for more than a couple of days, at first they’d make up excuses to see each other, but soon they just accepted that they wanted to spend time together, so they did. Not having seen V for days was making him irritable, making his skin itch. It was probably Kerry he’d decided. The crotchety old sourpuss had put his foot down and was keeping him to himself.

Shit, he was going to have to call him.

The call went straight to voicemail – of course it fucking did – and Johnny realised he had no idea what he was going to say and hung up. Pissing Kerry off would make it worse, and since even talking to Johnny seemed to piss him off he needed to figure out what to do.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry; Kerry called him later that evening.

“V asked me to call, wants to know what’s with all the messages?”

This pretty much confirms Johnny’s suspicions about V’s radio silence, but he wants to see his friend so plays nice.

“Needed to talk to him about the apartment, been a bit of a sich.”

Kerry sighs, “Well, we’ve had a kinda sich ourselves as it goes, only just got back from Vik’s...”

“Wait, is he OK? What kind of a sich? Kerry talk to me...”

“Calm down he’ll be fine, gonna rest up some then he wants you to come over, about this time tomorrow?”

“He wants me to come over? What do you want?”

Silence stretching on so long Johnny thinks Kerry has gone, “I want...V to be happy, you make him happy for some fucking unfathomable reason. See you tomorrow.”

Johnny is both worried and elated, Kerry said V was fine, he wouldn’t lie about that, but what had happened to keep him AWOL for three fucking days? At least he would be finally able to see him tomorrow, make sure he’s OK, see if there’s anything he needs... Johnny catches himself thinking about V’s well-being above his own pressing need to offload his problem on his ass, ‘Shit, I’m turning into as much of a princess as Kerry.’

-

Johnny had enjoyed his first afternoon in the apartment, the bar was well stocked and as well as the pool table to keep him occupied there was a massive screen TV. It had never really been his thing, but V and Kerry loved to watch ‘Big Little Corporats’ and it kinda stuck, so he spent the afternoon eating snacks in front of the TV and drinking V’s top-shelf tequila. He could actually see himself being happy here.

As darkness fell, Johnny had become restless. Rattling around the huge space with no direction and no V getting on his nerves was making him antsy, Christ only knows how Kerry stayed in that stupid, enormous villa by himself all those years without going..., hmmm....Johnny decides not to pursue that train of thought and to maybe go into town for a couple of hours.

Six hours later, at about the same time Kerry and Vik are sharing a drink, Johnny leads a merry group of bar-rats through the reception area and up to the apartment. Johnny mans the bar and lays on some preem tunes while his new choombas make themselves at home. The party goes on until sun is beginning to peek through the tinted windows and Johnny kicks the boot of the last, snoring guest telling him to delta. Overall it had been a nova night, nothing that couldn’t be fixed had happened to the apartment and, other than pretty much all V’s booze, everything seemed to be still here. Johnny laid down on the bed and drifted contentedly to sleep.

An annoying buzzing woke him up, he tried to block it out with the pillow, but it was very insistent so he figured he’d better investigate. It turned out to be the door, Johnny opened it and leaned on the doorframe with his arms folded whilst the concierge told him, in no uncertain terms, that he had to vacate the property.

“Choom, unbunch your panties, it was just a party. Or are parties not allowed in your precious building?”

The irate concierge conceded that, yes parties were indeed allowed, but amongst the things that are not allowed are sleeping in the corridors, defecating in communal plant pots, causing an unprecedented 27 noise complaints and copulation in the lobby. Johnny tried to explain that only one of those things was actually his fault, but it was too late, back to the old apartment it is then.

-

-

One of the benefits of V’s old place is that Johnny could get to his friend’s condo in no time, so he shrugs on his jacket, makes his way down in the lift and walks around the corner to their building. Other than last night’s call, he hadn’t spoken to Kerry since he’d left V’s head, hadn’t tried to, not worth the earache, and he’s not really looking forward to having to do it tonight, but if this is the only way to see V then it’s worth it. He presses the buzzer to the penthouse and is answered with a terse, “Come up,” as the elevator door pings open.

Johnny sees V lying on the couch and makes a beeline for him. Although the ex-merc is well-rested and feeling pretty chipper, Johnny can see bandages poking out from under his shirt and the ghost of dark rings under his eyes. It occurs to Johnny that he may have been a bit harsh in his previous assessment of the situation.

“Shit V, what the fuck happened?”

Kerry had diplomatically taken himself to the bedroom to give them time to talk. He picked up his acoustic guitar and began to play, picking out melodies and letting themes twist together. Below, V finds the distant noise soothing as he tells Johnny the story of what happened, the reanimated Rockerboy just finds it distracting. Once, a lifetime ago, he’d be up there with him, working on new songs, telling dumb jokes and drinking tequila instead of down here wondering what he’d done (lately) to piss him off so much.

V gets to the end of his tale, time for Johnny to confess...

“Decided the apartment wasn’t for me, fucking concierge had a stick up his ass, guess my face didn’t fit.”

V studies Johnny’s face for a moment, he knows he’s not telling the whole truth – mostly because the building supervisor sent him a message telling him what really happened – but he’s satisfied to see that the other man is unable to look him in the eye and is biting his lip guiltily and so doesn’t push for a full confession.

“Well, there’s still the apartment in Japantown, I think you’d like it. Give me a couple of days and I’ll drive you over there.”

-

Over the last few days as he waited for V to come around, Kerry’d had nothing but time to think. His first thoughts had been all about not being able to believe that V risked his life to save his own – he knew the gonk loved him and it’s one thing to say you’d take a bullet for your lover, but he actually went and did it. Kerry was pretty sure no-one had ever loved him enough to die for him before and it was an overwhelming feeling to know that now somebody did, especially when he realises that he feels exactly the same.

He went on to consider V’s and Johnny’s relationship. Kerry really was trying to save V from the inevitable heartache that Johnny dragged in his wake, but he was also stopping him from seeing someone he wanted to be with. He had experienced enough manipulation in his life to know how unhealthy that was for relationships and decided that he’d have to let his naive mainline find out for himself how Johnny could be, and just be there for him to pick up the pieces afterwards.

Right now though, Kerry had no intention of letting V out of his sight, so overhearing the plans for a trip to Japantown he decides he’ll tag along.

V isn’t a bit surprised the next day when Kerry announces he’s coming with them. He’s not left his side since the shooting and he doesn’t mind one bit. Looking over at his gorgeous Rockerboy as he makes coffee and chats about last night’s episode of Watson Whore that they watched whilst snuggled on the couch eating popcorn, V’s chest actually hurts at the thought that he could have lost him, that if he hadn’t have been there he’d be reading about his murder in the screamsheets and planning his mainline’s funeral instead of drinking his coffee and hearing his laugh.

 Right now he’ll happily spend every second of the day with him, you never know when another psycho will show up and Kerry will need him.

-

-

“We’re down in the garage. Taking the Mackinaw, meet you downstairs.”

Johnny hopes that V is using the ‘Royal we’ in that sentence. He was planning on taking him to the market for some quality time and noodles, not on sitting in an awkward silence watching Kerry glare at him from over his shades. His hopes are dashed however, approaching the truck Kerry is clearly in the passenger seat, glaring at him through the off-side mirror. V leans out of the window pointing over his shoulder to the rear door,

“Hey Johnny, you get the whole back seat to yourself how about that?”

He murmurs something that could’ve been ‘thanks’, or just as easily been ‘fuck off’.

V could feel the tension in the truck, no one had said a word since Johnny got in, Kerry was looking out of the side window with his hand on V’s leg, Johnny was lying down on the back seat out of his view, but he knew he’d be tapping on his chest and grumbling to himself. Actually it reminded him of the old days, Kerry by his side and a complaining, invisible back-from-the-dead rocker in the back of the car. He turns the radio on, then immediately regrets it. He keeps it tuned to Body Heat when it’s just him so’s he can bounce along to the mindless pop it dishes out, the track that is just firing up makes the back seat passenger sit bolt upright and V sees Kerry wince out of the corner of his eye.

Off the Leash, Kerry’s collab with the Us Cracks girls had passed Johnny by till now, when V was at Riot all those years ago watching it be unveiled he’d left his head terrorist in the car, having taken one of Vik’s pills in the hope of pulling a rock star, and by the time it was a huge hit, he was dead for the second time, so it’s with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin that he listens to the guitar riff that he would bet the farm on being a Eurodyne special.

V narrows his eyes and looks at him through the rear-view mirror willing him not to say anything but knowing that there’s no way on earth that he won’t.

“Well, this is a fun little ditty.”

Kerry had loathed the song by halfway through the promotional tour for it, everything about it grated on him, couldn’t even remember now why he thought it had been a good idea. At the time he thought he was showing the label that he couldn’t be pushed around, now he owns his own label he realises that all he did was make them a shit-ton of cash.

“It helped pay for you to be here making fucking snide remarks in the back of my mainline’s car instead of being in his head killing him, so on balance maybe it’s not so bad, eh Johnny?”

With both passengers now silently sulking, V pulls up outside the Westbrook apartment.

-

  V flicks Johnny the entry code,

“Go on up, have a look around. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes; me and Kerry just need to have a word.”

“Whatever, sure,” the rocker replies and makes towards the building.

V looks over at his partner calmly and waits,

“What?!” Kerry shrugs.

“Play nice Ker, it was your idea to come. If he’s getting to you that much maybe you should wait here till we get back.”

Ironically, given his profession, V was more of a lover than a fighter in his private life and didn’t see the point of antagonising people for no reason – of course Johnny would have said that antagonising them was a reason in itself, but still...

It was V’s turn to receive one of Kerry’s ice-cold glares,

“I didn’t come all this way to stare at the outside of an ugly apartment building; I can do that from the condo. Fine, I’ll try and be nice, for you though, not for that fucker.”

V smiles and gives Kerry a soft kiss,

“Thanks Ker, y’know if you two got along my life would be a helluva lot simpler.”

“Yeah well, baby steps. Let’s just get this afternoon over with first.”

They enter the apartment hand in hand; Johnny is nowhere to be seen, but the tell-tale strumming of V’s acoustic guitar leads them into the bedroom. V goes and sits on the bed next to his friend, crossing his legs and lying back into the pillows, Kerry watches from the doorway for a while then disappears into the other room, Johnny watches him go with a frown.

V closes his eyes listening to the newly formed melody, a repeating phrase that would stay with you for days the first time you hear it, at the edge of his hearing the muffled chords of an unplugged electric guitar join in and compliment the tune. Smiling, he leans forward to peer into the other room, the rocker has his eyes closed and is concentrating on following the tune, the guitar resting on his knee bounces gently as he taps his foot.

V nudges Johnny who looks up and meets Kerry’s eye, for a moment they carry on playing, but Kerry shakes his head, smiling sadly and carefully places the guitar back on the stand before wandering over to make a cup of coffee. Johnny feels a hand squeeze his shoulder and V disappears into the living room leaving him to his strumming.

V slips his hands around Kerry’s waist and kisses him on the back of the neck,

“That sounded nova, you should play together more often.”

“Nah, those days have been and gone, ‘sides,” he grins, “we’d prolly end up killing each other before the end of the first song.”

-

Johnny is pretty taken with the apartment, it seems cosy without being tiny, has a basic kitchen area, big shower, a room full of big guns that V won’t give him the code to,  enough of Japantown’s finest kitsch to sink a yacht and importantly, they don’t give a shit what you get up to in the lobby. V makes him promise not to do anything stupid and says he’ll be back in a couple of days to see how he’s getting along.

-

Kerry looks like he needs cheering up, V suggests leaving the truck behind, getting some food and maybe hitting a bar, so grabbing the Rockerboy’s jacket and shades from the passenger seat they head into town.

Cherry Blossom Market is pretty quiet at this time of day, ideal conditions for a world-famous rockstar and his locally renowned ex-merc partner to have a bit of fun.  They head to the noodle bar in what used to be the Rainbow Cadenza, V sits enraptured whilst Kerry tells tales of rock, roll and drunken debauchery, sanitized slightly so’s not to send his input running screaming back to Mama Welles.

“I hadn’t thought about this place in years,” says Kerry wistfully, “the club was way before your time babe, how did you find out about it?”

V explains the mission that Johnny had sent him on that introduced him to the store and its surly owner, and also to Karim, the vendor down the way who sells old bootlegs and claims to be Samurai’s biggest fan. Kerry ponders this new information,

“Cool, I love meeting fans from the old days,” V looks at his partner with narrowed eyes, Kerry hates talking about his time in Samurai with a passion, so what’s he playing at?

“Let’s go fuck with him.”

Yeah, that makes more sense.

Kerry shrugs on his (well V’s) oversized jacket, zips it up to his neck, pulls the hood over his head and hides his distinctive eyes behind his shades. V doesn’t think the disguise would fool a blind bat in a blackout, but Kerry’s been getting away with it for decades so what does he know? He explained to him once that it doesn’t always work in bars or nice restaurants cuz that’s where people expect to see him, but no one expects him to be in dive bars and grocery stores, so it’s nova in those places, or in seedy markets it turns out.

The pair make their way toward the tatty memorabilia stall, V is pretty sure they’re not going to get away with this, but Kerry’s enjoying himself so, whatever. V flicks through the disks while the rocker stands with his hands in his pockets – hiding his rings – looking moodily at the merchandise under the glass counter.

“I know you...” Kerry tenses, V looks up from the box of records occupying his attention, “You bought a bootleg a while back, a big fan if I remember right.”

“Yeah, preem listening, but I played it to my friend here and he didn’t much like it.”

Karim looks over at V’s friend and studies him closely; closely enough that V is getting nervous that they’ve been found out and it’ll cause a riot,

“Well choom,” he addresses Kerry, “it’s a pity you’re too young to have seen them in their heyday,” V has to turn away to stifle a laugh, “they rocked like nobody else. Those songs of Silverhand’s spoke to the audience, spoke to a whole generation.”

Whatever points Karim had gained by saying Kerry was too young, he’d definitely lost again now.

“Silverhand was an out of control narcissist with the subtlety of a brick to the head,” Kerry informs the vendor with an increasingly strained light tone, “I’ve heard the real talent was the other one, the cute one,” V raises his eyebrows, unbelieving that his partner is really going there, “though I prefer his solo stuff.”

“Kerry Eurodyne? Yeah, he’s talented alright, puts on a good show, but he’s never been able to match Silverhand’s passion, or his charisma.”

V slides closer to Kerry, maybe he can quietly drag him away before he creates a scene..?

As Kerry slams his hands onto the counter the clatter of his rings could be heard all round the market, he looks at the stallholder over the top of his glasses, clicking his fingers at V and pointing at the box he was just perusing.

“A passionate, charismatic asshole is still an asshole,” he growls snatching a pen off the counter and scrawling on the front of the copy of Second Conflict that V had mutely passed over to him.

Karim watches Kerry’s back as he stalks away pursued by the younger man who grabs his hand. He wasn’t sure he believed his eyes till he looked at the front of the LP that the guy had thrown at him as he left, “Fuck off Karim, Love Kerry Eurodyne x.”

-

V catches up with his mainline, “Sorry Ker, didn’t think he’d be such a dick,” but as he looks at his face he sees that the other man is actually smiling to himself.

“It’s all good V, I’ve left a lasting impression and he’s got a story to tell. That vinyl’s worth a mint now too, prolly more than he makes in a month, so who’s he gonna be talking about from now on, Kerry Eurodyne or Johnny asshat Silverhand?”

V throws an arm around his man’s shoulders; he’ll never stop being surprised by him.

“Let’s go find a drink,” he suggests.

-

Johnny spent a couple of hours fooling around on the guitars, might even have the beginnings of something good going on, he’d gotten himself some food, played a few rounds of Roach Race and was now relaxing on the couch. He’d always liked Japantown, right from the early days of the band playing at the Rainbow it was a chilled place to hang and explore, score, drink and watch the world go by, he even had a favourite spot, sitting on the wall at the end of Jig Jig Street, so he decided to look over the old town.

The place hadn’t changed much in the last 50 years, the stalls were different sure, but the actual market was much the same, so Johnny finds himself following his old routes to see if they still lead to some preem bars.

The first couple were deader than even he’d ever been, but up ahead, at the edge of the market, there’s one that seems to have something going on. Getting closer it seems there’s a band playing, and not half bad by the sound of it so Johnny decides to investigate.

 Passing the grimy window he notices Kerry inside sat in a dimly lit corner booth smiling and tapping on the table to the beat, V appears with drinks, puts them on the table and slides into the booth where he whispers something into the other man’s ear causing them both to laugh, then V sits and lets Kerry cross his legs over his lap. Something about the scene makes Johnny vaguely sad, he doesn’t really want to analyse why, he does, however now want to get roaring drunk, so he heads into the bar.

V sees him first, giving a shrill, two-fingered whistle that attracts the attention of most of the bar, he waves Johnny over, left without much choice he makes his way to their booth.

“You shoulda said you were coming out, we could’ve met you somewhere.” V chirps happily. Johnny looks over to Kerry hiding behind his bourbon and his shades.

“Yeah well, I’m not staying long. Just looking around the old place.”

Johnny perches on a stool at the edge of their table answering V’s inquisition about what he thinks of the apartment and avoiding Kerry’s silent glare.

It seems to Johnny, that Kerry has spent a good portion of around seventy of the last ninety years being pissed with him about something or other. Being stuck in V’s head – which is one of the things Kerry was pissed about - had made him realise that some (most) of the time he might have deserved it. He’d been a complete bastard to pretty much everybody he’d met at some point, but no-one more than Kerry, the man who was supposed to be his best friend. He didn’t exactly feel guilty about it, that not being one of his limited range of emotions, but it did explain some of Kerry’s reluctance to have anything to do with him.

V goes back to the bar and Johnny decides he’s got to say something,

“Ker, talk to me. I know we’ve had our problems but you need to lighten up. If the kid wasn’t so well-balanced this’d be tearing him apart. We don’t have to be best chooms, but we can be civil, for his sake if not ours.”

“It’s for his sake that I haven’t shot you in the fucking head, and that I didn’t unplug you when you were in that research facility,” hisses Kerry.

“So why’d you help to bring me back if you want me dead? You had what you wanted, then paid big eddies to get something that pissed you off. Even for you that’s gonk.”

Kerry sits back in his seat and closes his eyes, why isn’t he surprised that the first proper conversation they’ve had is already turning into an argument? It’s not like he hasn’t wondered himself a hundred times why he brought Johnny back, he told himself that it was for V, cuz he wanted it so badly, he’d been so sick and it was something that Kerry could do for him to make him feel better, but that wasn’t the whole truth.

He takes off his sunglasses and looks at Johnny with the bright blue eyes that the other man will never get used to.

“I tried to fucking save you the first time, back in the day, I tried so damn hard but you just wouldn’t let me. One way or another you were going to kill yourself and I could either watch or walk away...” Johnny just nods, it’s all true, “but I got the chance to save you again, I mean fuck, who gets that? Whether you wanted me to or not, you couldn’t stop me, so I did it. I don’t need you in my life anymore, I don’t see us ever being friends again, but I guess I don’t want you dead either.”

V tried really hard not to eavesdrop from the bar, but when he saw the two Rockerboys finally talking it was almost by accident that he tuned everything else out and picked up their conversation. He knew how Kerry felt, they��d talked about it often enough, he was disappointed that he was determined to keep his distance from Johnny, but pleased that they’d finally cleared the air, maybe it could be a stepping stone to something else down the line.

Johnny stayed just long enough to finish the drink he’d been brought, then disappeared into the now chaotic market leaving the lovers to their annoying moon-eyes and hand-holding.

-

It takes two days before Johnny is back in Watson, and another call from a building supervisor to alert V to the fact.

V: What did you do this time??!!!

Johnny: About what?

V:  You know what

J: ......

J: It caught fire a bit

V: How the fuck does an apartment catch fire A BIT?????

V: Kerry’s on some calls upstairs, come over and explain yourself Silverhand

J: Ugh fine, gimme five

It wasn’t his fault, who fills an apartment with fucking incense and candles and then gives it to someone as irresponsible as him? In fact V should count himself lucky it was only the bedroom that was a right off, the smoke damage to the rest of the apartment would probably clean up just fine.

“I rescued the guitars,” offers Johnny after relating his tale to V,

“Well thank fuck for that, you nearly burnt an apartment block to the ground but you rescued a couple of crappy guitars.”

“Well, look at Mr Portfolio with his giant condo and shitty attitude...”

Even though they are sat by the pool outside, Kerry can hear the commotion from his upstairs office and comes to investigate. He watches them from the door for a moment, virtually spitting venom into each other’s faces, but still sat shoulder to shoulder with their fingertips touching. An almost sickening wave of déjà vu hits him, fifty some years ago this was him and Johnny, constantly at each other’s throats but each drawn to the other, the difference is, V has Kerry in his corner.

“What’s the sonofabitch done now?”

V spins around to face Kerry, nearly pushing Johnny into the pool as he stands up and strides towards his mainline.

“He set fire to my fucking apartment Ker,” V rumbles, “and he’s not even fucking sorry!”

V is as mad as Kerry has ever seen him, the older man soothes him with gentle rubs to his arms and back and with strokes to his hair as he nestles his head in the rocker’s neck. Kerry tells him to go inside and waits until he disappears before joining Johnny by the side of the pool and sitting beside him.

“You’ll lose him y’know if you carry on taking advantage and acting like a dick.”

Johnny carries on scowling at the water, “It’ll get so that even though he can’t bear to be away from you, he won’t be able to stand being in the same room, so he’ll just stop trying. Years down the line he’ll be messed up and wondering what he could have done to change things.”

Taking his glasses off, Johnny looks over at Kerry with something approaching concern,

“I don’t want that, I like having him around.”

“I know you do, and he wants to be around you too for now, but as you pointed out, he’s a well-balanced guy, not some twenty year old stoner with a crush. He won’t put up with your shit for long no matter how much he loves you.” Johnny raises an eyebrow at the L word, “Platonically of course,” laughs Kerry after seeing the look on Johnny’s face, “I mean, he’s got me filling his every thought and need, and making his world that much more dazzling, and besides, I’ll shoot you in the face if you touch him.”

Johnny smiles wryly, “Thanks Ker, I get it, I’ll try.”

“I know you will, now fuck off for a couple of days and let him calm down, I’m sure he’ll call ya.”

-

Kerry finds V lying on the bed, legs crossed arms behind his head, frowning at the ceiling, he sits beside him and scoots over allowing the other man to rest his head in his lap.

“You were right Ker, he’s such a dick!”

Stroking his hair and humming softly, Kerry sighs,

“Yeah well, give him a while. Maybe he’ll change...”

[paidtospillmyguts]

The party was in full swing. Trashy pop was playing from the old speakers Iris’s parents had miraculously not blown out yet. Both of the guest rooms in the house had people hooking up in them. People were dancing and whooping excitedly. Everyone was having so much fun! But something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Not a single person was paying attention to Sid. His beer tasted like shit and he had nothing to keep himself busy anymore. It was time to make a new plan. Time to bring the attention back to him…because God forbid people have fun. God forbid anyone fucking ignore him at a party that wasn’t even his. He climbed up on the table, not even knowing yet what to do. The plan was dimly forming somewhere in the back of his mind. He tried to tap on his glass but it didn’t make much noise. “I WANNA RAISE A TOAST!” He screamed, getting the attention of only a few people in the room. Most of them scoffed and ignored him. He heard a distinct “what the fuck does HE wanna do now?” From somewhere in the crowd. He downed the rest of his beer in one big gulp and fought back the urge to vomit. “TO IRIS!” He screamed “HAPPY FUCKIN' BIRTHDAY, BITCH! YOU A REAL ONE, BLAH, BLAH, FUCKIN' BLAH!” He laughed and bent down, almost falling from the table as he smashed his bottle against the edge. He admired his work for a moment, all the sharp edges of what was left of the bottle. A brief moment of pensiveness. Calm before the storm. “Y’ALL, I’VE KNOWN THIS BITCH SINCE SHE WAS BORN!” He laughed again. “SO I THINK SHE ALREADY KNOWS WHAT’S GONNA GO DOWN. I MEAN GODDAMN, Y’ALL GOT ME FUCKIN' BORED!” He yanked up the sleeves of his leather jacket, his arms slightly wet with sweat and covered in old scars. “WATCH THIS!” He giggled. It sounded like a banshee shriek. He brought the sharpest edge of the bottle to his arm and up, up, up he went, a line of blood forming from wrist to elbow. The same on the other side. People looked away, left the room, someone puked-was it from the shitty beer or the sight of blood? He wished he knew-and the ones who remained stared in shock. Everything was okay again. He had gotten what he wanted. A reaction. He stayed standing on the table until Iris ran in and pulled him down, dragging him to the bathroom while yelling “what the fuck have you done?!” And he shrieked out giggles into the ruined night.

[alexihawleys]

Chenford + "come here"

Lucy doesn't know if she's going to be able to stop the bleeding.

She's thankful, at least, that the bullet seems to have dodged major arteries – but he's losing a lot of blood and the plaid shirt-turned-tourniquet she's tried tying and re-tying isn't holding as well as she'd like it to. Tim's leaned up against the side of their shitty old car, his head pressed back against the hot metal of the wheel well. His skin is a little bit too pale for her liking and she blinks away a few tears, shaking her head as Tim's hand slowly grips her knee through the hole in her jeans. A streak of his blood slicks over her skin as he repeats himself, a bit more clearly: "Come here."

He's not going to die, today – but she might kill him tomorrow if he keeps trying to get her to come over there. She'd called for help once she'd gotten Tim settled, and thankfully this hadn't been a real incident – just an unlucky turn of events while they were doing a bit of recon – so their getting caught in the crossfire wasn't as concerning as it could've been.

Either way, she's more worried about him right now than the thought of their cover being blown. Tim mutters something garbled at her and she rolls her eyes, looking up at him for a moment before turning her attention back to the bleeding, pressing her hands firmly over his skin.

"Shut up," she says, her voice a little rough in her throat. She tastes blood on her tongue and runs it over her lower lip, registering she must’ve bitten down on it too hard at some point and then letting it fall away. Tim is more of a concern than a split lip. "You’re never allowed to say I’m the one who talks too much ever again.”

Tim laughs. It’s thick and wet, which she doesn’t like, but she’s still a little relieved to hear it. “It’s important,” he sighs, and his eyes are too big and glassy for her to ignore them.

“What?” Her voice is softer, the edge is nearly gone, and she doesn’t really know why his eyes looking like that makes her want to cry. Lucy leans up a bit closer to his face, raising her brows when he meets her gaze. “What’s important?”

Tim lifts his hand slowly, bringing it up to her mouth and pressing his thumb firmly to her lip. Lucy furrows her brow, looking down at his finger, then back over at his face, his brow knit in determination. “You’re bleeding, too.” 

Lucy huffs, shaking her head to try and move his hand. His hand stays anchored against her chin, his thumb pressing against her mouth. “I’m fine, Tim – it’s a split lip, it’s nothing.” Lucy rolls her eyes, glancing down at his leg and pressing more firmly into it, swallowing as he hisses out in pain. “Sorry. I’m just trying to–,”

“Apply pressure,” he swallows, letting out a low chuckle. “I know, me too.” 

She has half a mind to suck his thumb into her mouth and bite it, fuck. Lucy swallows, trying to bite back the tightness in her chest, the way Tim’s thumb pressed against her lip makes her want to cry because what is he doing when he’s the one bleeding onto the pavement? “It’ll stop on its own, Tim.”

Tim shrugs, coughing. “It’ll be faster this way.”

Lucy sighs but doesn’t fight him – just tries to work around the way her head is spinning, the way the pad of his thumb feels against her mouth, the way she can taste her own blood, now mixed with a little bit of sweat and the taste of Tim’s skin, something she wishes she were more intimately familiar with in her heart of hearts. She re-wraps the bloody shirt around his leg, this time even tighter, and does her best to close the wound with her hands, shutting her eyes when Tim groans. 

“Hey,” he breathes and she looks up at him, blinking her eyes open, taking stock of his face – soft, pale, a little sweaty, but still Tim. “You’re doing great.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “You don’t need to do th-,”

Tim taps his thumb against her lip, raising a brow. “You are. I’m going to be fine because of you.”

She nods, shifting her weight so she’s sitting a bit closer to his face, so his arm doesn’t have to strain so much if he’s going to insist on holding it up. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

Tim hums, tipping his head back against the car for a moment. “Things feel a lot slower when you’re don’t have to run and catch the guy.” She swallows, laughing as Tim pulls his finger away from her lip and looks down at her, clearly inspecting the bleeding. She realizes slowly that he’s referencing the first time she did this – held him after he was shot, kept him safe until the medics arrived, had his blood staining her hands. 

Lucy flicks her tongue out over her lower lip, the metallic taste a bit weaker, as Tim’s hand settles against the side of her face. “Can’t say it feels much different than it did then,” she hums, shaking her head. “I’m more worried about you now, if you can believe it.”

“Shocking,” he mumbles, but there’s no bite to it – she almost smiles at him, because it’s almost soft. Tim nods gently, sitting up a bit with a low groan. “Come here,” he says again, gruff, low. It’s not a question, so she does what he says, sliding in closer, her face inches from his as she raises her brow in question. His eyes are on her mouth and she takes a shaky breath as he moves slowly, pulling her head in a bit so he can lean down and press a light kiss to the split in her lip. He lingers for a long moment and Lucy feels her throat tighten as she stays stock still, her ears rushing. “There,” he murmurs as he sits back, smiling up at her. “All good, now.”

Lucy tips her head to the side, rolling her eyes at him fondly, a smile on her lips as she hears the wailing siren of an ambulance in the distance.

[stealforreal]

Future kids - Bakugou Katsuki I

Bakugou meets his son from the future. Just some fluff, with a jealous Bakugou.

Bakugou Katsuki x F! reader

Warnings: none

Bakugou was stomping his way back to the dorms, cursing that stupid nerd Deku in his mind. Kicking some rocks lying in his way, he was radiating murder. Naturally his classmates left him alone to cool off for a minute, even the Baku squad left him alone. They had chosen not to interfere, because they would like to live to see another, thank you very much. 

The stupid nerd had been too close to y/n at lunch today, and Bakugou had spent the entire time glaring at the curly green haired boy. What really made him snap was when she hugged him, and the stupid brocoli went as red as a tomato. She was giggling loudly and seemed really happy at whatever Midoriya had said, and the fiery ash blond couldn't control his jealousy so he stormed off. After class was over Bakugou was the first out the door, not even stopping to insult Denki when he made a bad joke. 

The rest of his classmates were confused, sure they all knew Bakugou to be a hothead. But still he seemed angrier than usual, only the Baku squad had small nervous but knowing smiles on their face. They knew of the explosive boy's crush on y/n, it wasn't totally obvious and they really wouldn't have known had Kirishima not pointed out the subtle things. Like how he never once called her an extra, he still called her idiot, dumbass and such. That was probably Bakugou's version of a compliment, which was probably the reason they took so long to figure out his crush.

So here he was stomping his way back to the dorms, cursing Deku for being close with y/n, Himself for getting jealous, y/n for being too friendly and everything he could curse in general. He stopped dead in his tracks when he felt a little tug on his uniform pant leg, glaring down at the thing that stopped him. Only to be confused when that thing turned out to be a little boy, around the age of 4-5 by the looks of it. Bakugou's brows furrowed in confusion, how did a little boy end up here. UA is one of the most secure places in Japan, courtesy of the League of Villains and other past incidents. 

What caught Bakugou's attention though, was the fact that this little boy was bawling his eyes out and trembling with his sobs. Bakugou didn't know what was happening, he felt incredibly protective of the young boy but didn't know why. He seemed kind of familiar, like Bakugou had seen parts of him somewhere else before. The little boy had big e/c doe eyes, filled to the brim with tears as he stared at the ground. His hair was unruly and a familiar shade of ash blond, he reminded Bakugou of himself a bit when he was young except the crybaby attitude of course. It was weird for Bakugou to feel this protective of anything, and he didn't like it one bit

" Oi brat, where are you parents?" The teenager asked the little boy, crouching down to his level, making the little lad finally pay attention to the stranger he had grabbed. The little boy gasped and flung himself at Bakugou, clutching on tightly to the stunned teenager's shirt. A new wave of tears hit the little blonde, being relieved at the familiar sight of his fathers face though much younger. " D-daddy, I-I was so scared" the little boy whimpered, burying his tear stained face in his fathers shoulder. Bakugou was speechless, he sure as hell was not this kid's father even if it explained the feeling of familiarity. No Bakugou shook his head at the ridiculous thought, this kid was obviously terrified and contrary to popular belief Bakugou would not abandon a lost child " Oi brat, I'm taking you with me back to the dorms. Afterwards we'll find your parents' ' he huffed, Bakugou was going to kill this kid's parents once they were found.

The younger boy began calming down in the older boy's arms, the tears had stopped and he was only softly hiccupping now. "B-but daddy I did find you, I wanna go see mommy" the young boy huffed out, defiantly crossing his arms over his little chest. " Oh yeah, prove it brat" Bakugou smirked thinking he had cornered the little boy in his lie, but much to his astonishment the little boy let out a small explosion in the palm of his hand. Though much brighter than his own, there was no mistaking his explosion quirk.  Bakugou hated to admit that so far the brat seemed to be telling the truth, and he hated even more how his feeling of protectiveness grew at the revelation that this kid in fact was most likely his son from the future. It wasn't rocket science, right now Bakugou was 16 and 100% not a father. Yet here is a little boy that is the spitting image of him as a kid except the eyes, and in this world where quirks exist perhaps time travelling was possible.  

Bakugou's little chat with his son had taken longer than he thought, because as soon as he entered the dorm common room every one in the room snapped their head towards the two ash blondes. The first to break the pin drop silence was Kirishima  " Eh who is the kid, Bakubro" he asked. While Mina asked if he had kidnapped the kid, earning a glare from the explosive blonde. " Daddy, why does Aunt Mina and Uncle Kiri not recognize me? " a little voice asked, making a lot of jaws drop and eyes widened. 1....2......3...... " WHA!!!" The lot of them shouted, questions coming left and right, wanting an explanation as to why this little boy who looked suspiciously like Bakugou called him dad. 

What they all failed to notice was the little boy was recoiling from the loud noise, pressing himself closer and closer to his father. Bakugou noticed this, and thanks to his newfound protectiveness he hugged him closer and glared at them effectively shutting them up. Mostly they were just silenced because the sight of Bakugou hugging and being protective of his supposed son baffled them. I mean we are talking about Mr.Hothead angry Pomeranian, the most blatant rude student in class 1-A if not in the entirety of UA. " Shut it ya damn morons, can't you see you're frightening him" Bakugou sneered at his classmates, not loudly but it was still malicious enough to make a shiver run up their spines. 

Midoriya, who had known Kacchan the longest, was intrigued by this side of Kacchan and unconsciously moved closer to the two ash blondes. Seeing the familiar shade of green hair approach them Bakugou sneered, while his son became ecstatic. " Uncle Izu '' The child yelled excitedly, stretching his arm towards the blushing brocoli boy indicating he wanted to be held. " Ah hell no! He is not your uncle, I won't allow shitty Deku to hold my son" Bakugou yelled, making a few snicker quietly, but what really set them off was the fact his son chopped his head with a little fist. "Oi, why the hell did ya do that for ya brat? Bakugou barks at his son, only receiving a deadpan expression in return. " Mommy said, every time your daddy is mean to uncle Izu chop his head for me, okay baby?" After that announcement they all burst out laughing, while Midoriya tried not to tremble under Bakugou's glare. 

"Speaking of which, who is your mom?, uhm I never got your name, little guy" Kirishima asked the little boy, stating a valid point. Bakugou realized that even though he had known his son for about 5 hours now, he never once asked what the boy's name was. " What do you mean, Uncle Kiri, it's me Katsuma?" Katsuma tilted his head a bit, not really being aware or understanding that he most likely travelled through time. " Well you aren't born in our time yet, mini Bakugou" Kaminari informed the little boy, in his usual teasing voice. " Really Uncle Kami" Little Katsuma asked " Does this mean mommy and daddy aren't together yet?" He asked, surprising the teenagers. Katsuma was surprisingly smart for a kid his age, and after the initial shock from being called daddy Katsuki totally forgot to ask about his son's mother. 

"That is correct, Katsuma'' Todoroki piped up in his usual monotone voice, surprising Katsuma with his appearance. " Uncle Todo'' Katsuma replied coolly, surprising everyone present. The happy bubbly 5 year old had vanished in an instant, and been replaced with a little boy full of hatred. Breaking the little staring contest that had broken out between his son and the damn half n half bastard, was none other than Midoriya's phone. Being the klutz that he is, he ended up answering and putting it on speaker. " Izuku, Ochaco said there was a cute kid at your dorm, so I'm coming over " y/n voice could be heard, instantly Katsuma brightened up again being all sparkles and rainbows again. He tugged at his dad's collar, demanding Katsuki's attention " daddy, daddy did you hear, mommy's coming over" the little ash blonde exclaimed, bouncing in his fathers arms from being giddy. This new information caused everybody's jaw to land on the floor once again.

" WHY, why does Bakugou get the hot chick? '' Mineta yelled in agony, being the little pervert he is, he had to comment on her looks. " Oi, don't talk about my future wife and baby mama y/n like that, I'll fucking blast you to hell" His statement followed by the crackeling in his palm, and the sound of a phone being dropped? Turning around Bakugou was met with your stunned face, eyes blown wide with confusion and astonishment clearly written on your face. " Mommy" Katsuma yelled, squirming trying to get out of his fathers embrace, and slowly Katsuki sat him down. When his small feet hit the floor, Katsuma was sprinting towards y/n with all his might and flinging himself into her arms. Resulting in the poor girl, falling down on the floor in her confusion.

Katsuma buried his face in her neck, sighing happily to himself. The remaining nerves  he had totally disappeared once he saw you. As much as Katsuma was a daddy’s boy, he was even more of a mama’s boy. Katsuma could feel the lack of response coming from his mother, curious and slightly scared he looked at her face. you were absolutely stunned, no response came from you frightening the young boy. Tears began swimming in Katsuma’s beautiful e/c eyes, snapping you back to reality. The sight of a child with tears in his eyes, struck your motherly instincts. Answers could wait, right now there was an adorable toddler with tears in his eyes, and you had to comfort him.

Slowly Katsuma was pulled into your embrace, head buried in the crock of your neck. Arms wrapped tightly around the preciuóus boy, letting him cling to you for deer life. “ M-mommy, I m-missed you, I was s-so scared-d” Katsuma said through sobs and hiccups. Not bothering to correct him, you bounced him lightly up and down in your arms. Bakugou came and helped you onto your feet, putting an arm around your waist. His other hand began stroking Katsuma’s unruly blond hair. 

Around them the rest of the class was still stunned into silence, seeing the small family in an embrace. Most of them had never seen Bakugou look so protective and calm, let alone with a small blush. You would also sport a matching blush if it weren’t for the fact, all your attention was on the young boy in your arms. He looked like a carbon copy of Katsuki, yet his e/c eyes looked exactly like yours. Slowly the sniffles stopped. Instead they were replaced by steady breathing, it seems like the child had a long day because he was fast asleep in your arms.

Slowly you made your way to the 1-A dorm living room couch, with the sleeping child in your arms and Bakugou not far behind you. He made it a point to keep his hand on the small of your back, glaring at the other guys present if they looked at your or his son the wrong way. “ Can somebody please explain to me what is going on?” You whispered so you wouldn’t wake up the young boy, whose name you still hadn’t caught. Your eyes caught Izuku’s eyes, but for some reason his eyes widened and he averted his gaze from you. Izuku is one of your best friends, you met because you and your classmate Hatsume Mei worked on his hero costume and you hit it off. 

With your attention not fully on the child anymore, you now realised that somebody had their arm around your shoulders. Looking to your right where the owner would be stítting, your eyes widened slightly at the person on your right. One of the hottest guys in UA had his arm around you, Bakugou Katsuki of class 1-a was well known in the school. His temper, looks and quirk had made him extremely popular with the female population of UA, though none of them dared approach him. The bad boy image both attracted them and made them keep their distance from him. He wasn’t exactly known for being a teddy bear, so Katsuki hugging y/n closer to him and keeping touching her was not expected.

 “ Oi Flashlight, brat is ours from the future. I don't know how he got here but it’s true. He even has my quirk, you know what this means right ” Bakugou spoke, explaining the situation. The others had left the two of you alone, giving Bakugou privacy to explain the surreal situation to you.  What this means? What did he mean by that? You couldn’t help but ponder the meaning. Turning your head to face him and question him on what he meant, you were met with a very close Bakugou. Bakugou couldn’t contain himself seeing you look so adorably clueless, so he closed the small gap between you. 

His lips were surprisingly soft. He was gentle in kissing you, not knowing how you would react. I mean you had to like him back right? You were sitting there next to hum with YOUR SON in your arms. He smelled nice, it was a sweet scent like caramel courtesy of his quirk. The kiss was slow, loving and gentle, the feeling of his lips on yours were intoxicating. Pulling back from the kiss, Bakugou growled silently, huskily in your ear “Your mine, flashlight” Heat crept up your neck, and you were left softly blushing. “ What are we going to do with him Bakugou?” Still facing Bakugou, you looked at your son from the future. There really was no mistake, he looked like a perfect Katsuki copy with your eyes, and your motherly instincts told that this was in fact your son. 

“It’s Katsuki to you Flashlight ” He corrected you “For now let's go to bed, it’s late. We can ask the squirt questions tomorrow” Katsuki led you to his room, still with a sleeping Katsuma in your arms. His bed was big enough to fit the three of you. You laid down with Katsuma in the middle, both you and Katsuki put an arm around Katsuma. Katsuki intertwined your fingers, and slowly you fell into a blissful sleep. You could ask more questions tomorrow.

But when you woke up, Katsuma was nowhere to be found. Only you and Katsuki were cuddling in his bed. You and Katsuki both came to the conclusion that whatever quirk sent Katsuma here probably sent him back to his own time. “Katsuki, is it wrong of me to miss him already?” You looked at your new boyfriend, looking into his sleepy vermillion orbs. “ If you miss the little firecracker already, why don’t we bring him back” His morning voice was rough, and tickled your ears just right, sending a shiver down your spine. Bakugou's eyes glinted with mischief, as he began kissing your neck. The innuendo not lost on you, the feeling of his lips on a particular spot had you giggling. It was ticklish and stopped him in his tracks for just long enough for you to get a word in. “ Let’s wait a few years okay” He nodded and laid down next to you again, pulling you close.

You would see Katsuma again. Someday.

[punkgrogg]

Doorway Duo pt.3

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,074

Notes: Sorry I took so long! I had to split this update into several parts because I ended up typing out over 6,000 words so another part will be posted in a couple days hopefully I can fix my laptop by then.

Date Posted: 9/4/2021

“Share the heat,” Hoseok complained, tugging the blanket from my cocooned form.

October ‘s days were chilly but as soon as the sun set, it was freezing. I was propped up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and a king sized blanket tucked around me. Mom sat on the recliner to my left, the reason behind my assortment of pillows, and Hoseok was shoving his way into the occupied seat on my right. Well, my legs were occupying it.

“There’s a while couch right there ass hat.” I whined as he lifted my legs and placed them on his lap. This wasn’t so bad- he was warm- but the sibling bond between us made sure to complain.

“I don’t want to sit next to dad, he’s way too excited over the game.” Hobi pulled out his phone and scrolled aimlessly.

“When’s Namjoon gonna be here? His team is kicking ass.`` Dad was lively when it came to soccer. It was cute though and I loved how animated he’d get with each goal. But the kicker is that he and Namjoon rooted for other teams. Hobi, Jin, and I all sided with dad on the sports front but Joonie picked a shitty team that’s been coming up in the last couple of years. Maybe the heart attack he nearly gave dad ten years ago was worth it- if the pride in my dad’s eyes were anything to go by.

Joonie was our wild card, he seemed to pick the most difficult path just because he liked the challenge. He’d always do the opposite of what we expected, whether it was the sudden law school decision or boycotting Christmas one year. But today was probably the most surprising.

Jungkook apparently wasn’t a sports fan until this season started, my dad’s enthusiasm rubbed off onto him and now it was funny to see him white-knuckling a sprite over a bad call. Taehyung was taking a nap upstairs and mom was idly reading some seedy romance novel if the blush on her face was anything to go by. Well it was probably the shirtless man emblazoned on the cover that truly gave it away.

Hobi sighed and tossed his phone over onto the side table, he closed his eyes and melodramatically threw his arm over his face as he rested against the back of the loveseat. I rolled my eyes, “what’s it now buttercup?”

He huffed at my nickname, “Jimin isn’t responding.” He dropped his arm to pout at me as if I could help the situation at all.

“You know he’s probably working right now?” I nudged his arm with one of my feet.

His pout turned into a full blown frown as he made puppy eyes at me. “Yeah but that doesn’t mean i can’t miss him.”

“OH, so you’re going to finally admit that you’re dating him?” The delighted smile that ripped it’s way across my face made the frown completely fall off of his.

“Oh shit.”

His shock made me full bellied laugh, “Mom! Hobi finally sa-”

“Shut up! You tricked me!” he hissed as he covered my mouth, I smiled evilly as I licked the back of his hand to deter him.

“The baby.” Jungkook snapped, ripping Hobi's hand off my face. How did he manage to get across the room so quickly? Beyond me. There was a cloudy sort of anger in his face, one where he knew he shouldn’t be angry but couldn’t help it.

“Kookie, I'm fine.” I reached up to hold his wrist as he let go of Hobi's hand. He looked down on me tersely, his eyes colder than usual.

“Hoseok, how many times do your mother and I have to say to be gentler with your sister? You two are honestly getting too old for this.” Dad scolded, his hand on Hobi’s shoulder. I could see him curling into himself and suddenly I felt small.

“Dad, I'm okay, Hoseok and I were just playing. You know he’d never hurt me or the baby.`` I let go of Jungkook's wrist and tried to sit myself up more. It was hard this late into the pregnancy.

“You need to be more careful too, you’re way too rowdy these days.” he chastised me and I could feel the anger at being talked down to. I’m not a child anymore.

“No, this is my baby and my body, I get to decide when it’s too rowdy. We weren’t wrestling or fighting and I could easily breathe. We were doing nothing wrong, why are you acting like this?” My tone was cold and I forced myself up into a standing position. Jungkook stepped away from the couch so i could have enough room.

“y/n baby, you know i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-” i cut him off; i was fuming.

“Well you did. You basically said that either my big brother is going to hurt me or that I'm incapable of judging how much energy I can exert. We’re all adults in this room, why did you two have to intervene?” my glare turned to Jungkook, he hardened his gaze.

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“No more baby excuses,” I cut him off. “I know he’s fine, he’s twisting and kicking just as he’s always been.”

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“Stop Jungkook.” I held up a hand, the anger bubbling up to the surface. I needed to cool down before I lashed out. I could feel the heat coursing through my arms and filling my chest.

“No, Y/n he’s right I didn't notice it till you stood up but the baby’s hormones have gotten really strong all of a sudden.” Hoseok chimed in. still seated, he reached out and touched my stomach. Mom crossed the room and shoved her way through Jungkook and dad to kneel in front of my stomach, accessing my state.

“What? What does that mean?” I cradled my bump, the fear seeping into my words. He felt normal there, my doctor told me if anything were to feel wrong then to trust my instincts and immediately go to the hospital. But this was different, nothing felt wrong.

Taehyung thundered down the stairs, “Y/n? What’s going on down here? I can smell the stress from upstairs,” he took a backseat to the worry on my mind.

“Is something wrong with him? Nothing feels wrong.” I turned to Jungkook, the worry overpowering the shame of the argument we had just had. He was the first to notice so maybe he knew what was wrong.

“I was wrong, holy shit, we should make a doctor’s appointment.” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed, he jumped up and held me at arms length by the shoulders. He looked down to my stomach with a shocked expression.

“Honey, get the keys we’re going to the hospital.” mom barked out. I didn’t even notice her leaving the huddle but she was back at the recliner as she tugged on some tennis shoes.

“No! It's okay! The pheromones are showing that she’s okay too.” Jungkook finally spoke up, he threw an arm around me and pointed at the baby.

“She?” The confusion in my father’s voice was only a mirror to the rest of the room.

“Yeah, the pheromones got so strong because there’s two.” Hobi explained as he crossed the room and relieved mom of her purse. He placed a calming hand on her shoulders. Shoulders that seemed to be leveled with her ears with the abrupt stress.

“You mean twins? It's a bit late to find that out don’t you think?” she all but hissed at her third son. Mom was visibly anxious right now, something I had never seen before. She was usually so calm and cheerful around us.

“Mom, you’ve said it yourself, y/n is bigger than most pregnancies.”

“I mean yeah but we’ve gone to the doctor twenty times over the summer and I think he’d find another baby in there.” I chimed in, coming to mom’s other side. I think it helped with calming her down because her shoulders lowered a bit.

“I can smell both, I can smell her all of a sudden alongside him.” Taehyung wrapped his arms around me, his head burrowing into my shoulder. His grip on me was tighter than usual.

“But Tae that doesn’t make sense.” I turned in his grasp, facing the snow leopard hybrid, my disbelief written across my face.

“He’s had a very strong scent and a very strong heartbeat, maybe he just masked hers.” Jungkook stepped into my bubble once again. He was on the other side of Tae but seemed to block off any others from joining in the clique.

“But the ultrasounds only show one baby.” I reasoned out, my right hand reaching behind me to rest on my mother’s shoulder. Accepting there was a second was terrifying, I was barely holding myself together for the one pregnancy. Adding on another? Was I eating enough? Taking enough precautions? Maybe dad was right in intervening today.

“Back in the day they couldn’t find Seokjin’s penis and told us we’d be having a girl. It was a bit of a shock when he came out.” Dad. Of course, I've heard this story before, ultrasounds weren’t always perfect.

“What should i do?” I was scared and it was evident in the shake of my voice, Taehyung only hugged me harder.

“Hey guys, what's going on here?” Namjoon’s voice shattered the tension of the room. Seeing him and the dark haired male next to him gave me a chance to breathe.

Hoseok flitted across the room, his excitement at seeing our older brother evident in the wagging of his feather duster of a tail. “Joon, you're going to be an aunt and an uncle.”

“What?”

“Hobi that’s not how it works and you know it.” Mom chastised with a small shake of her head. Hoseok was a blessing to us all when tensions were high. “Who’s this?”

Namjoon seemed to freeze up a bit before throwing an arm around the guy hovering behind him a bit. Said man flushed lightly at the attention turning to him and in the soft light of the living room I could barely make out a pair of silky black ears atop his head. “This is Min Yoongi, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I sputtered out, breaking the moment of silence that enveloped the living room. I could see dad from my peripheral making his way to the doorway with a smile.

“Yeah, problem?” Joonie’s eyes were narrowed at me but eased up at the grin I was sporting.

Pulling away from Taehyung a bit, I sneered at Hobi. “Hoseok- he told us about his boyfriend before you could. How does that feel?”

Hoseok groaned before stomping over to me to grind out: “Oh my god you're annoying and technically i said it first.”

“But you didn’t tell mom and dad.” I taunted, the faux misery on my brother’s face would fuel me for months. Taehyung sat on the loveseat behind him and tugged at the hem of my shirt for me to join him.

“They’ve met Jimin before though and according to you i’m not subtle.” Hobi argued, his hand on his hip. Jungkook followed Tae and I down to the seat and I was wedged between the two with my legs in Kook’s lap. He gently rubbed circles into my swollen ankles as Hobi and I glared at each other.

“Anyway, what's this about me being an aunt now?” Joonie interrupted the stare down with Yoongi by his side, our parents must have finally let them out of their interrogation.

“These three are suddenly claiming I'm pregnant with twins.” I explained with a flick of my wrist, the stress of the situation (that was only a few minutes ago) seemed as if it were twelve years in the past.

“Um, I can smell two scents too.” Yoongi’s soft spoken words brought back the fear.

“Holy shit, mom! What am I supposed to do? Should we go to the hospital?” I tried to push myself up into a sitting position but Taehyung held me gently to his chest.

“The babies are happy, I don't think they’re in danger. “He hummed softly into my ear. I could feel the sincerity behind his words. He rubbed a hand up my arm gently and started to purr. An attempt to ease my anxiety.

“Danger or not- we still need to confirm if there are actually twins. That’s a nightmare in itself. That’s double of everything I was sort of ready for. Wait, what if I give birth prematurely- don’t twins come early?” there was panic rising in my chest.

“Mom and Dad went to their room, they’re recovering from the unexpected news but Y/n it’s going to be okay. We’ll go to the doctor’s tomorrow, together,” Hoseok reminded me, he softly ruffled my hair as he leaned down to kiss the top of my forehead. Still I looked around the room for my mother. The one who holds all the answers to my pregnancy fears. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi, all stood above us three, all showing a different expression. Namjoon looked apprehensive, which was normal for him. Hoseok looked as if he were trying to tame a wild animal. Yoongi thought he looked stunned, his eyes blown wide.

“Hobi you’re banned from my ultrasound appointments. You almost broke the equipment.” I reminded him with a forced smile. I could still feel the panic but it was ebbing away. I wasn’t dying, I was safe. The babies were safe. Everything will be okay.

“That’s so rude, I apologized and everything.” he crossed his arms, generously taking the bait. Knowing that Joonie would laugh at his expense.

“We’ll go with you, we haven’t been able to go since Hoseok has been.” Taehyung declared, way too happy for me to decline, and I smiled softly at him. I was held up against his torso, his head just a few inches above my own. He leaned down and rubbed his forehead against my own.

“You’re going to scent mark my sister in front of me?” Namjoon sputtered indignantly, causing Tae to freeze all of a sudden.

“Namjoon, that’s not scent marking.” Hoseok laughed and shoved at his shoulder playfully.

“Actually, we feline hybrids scent mark like that instead of that mess you canine hybrids do. I scent marked Namjoon earlier in the same way.” Yoongi crossed his arms and seemed to glare down at Tae. I was a bit shocked to say the least.

Hoseok had explained it to me when we were younger, scent marking was a hybrid instinct, and it had two different connotations. There was a familial way and a romantic way to cover another person in their pheromones. Hoseok would hug us and hold our hands growing up to rub just enough of himself on us to comfort himself that we were his family. Especially when we were younger and playing with larger groups of children or when there was a big event. The familial way would only last a few hours and was more of a comforting thing for family and very close friends to help with bonding.

Hoseok had explained the more romantic way was to imbue another’s scent for a much longer time and it was done by stimulation to the scent glands which meant that they would lick each other’s scent glands. He had been tomato red explaining this to me when he had found another hybrid’s scent on me that was much stronger than his own. When I explained that I was just playing with a hybrid at recess and they hugged me he seemed to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

Taehyung was staring up at Namjoon with an indecipherable expression. The massage on my ankles had stopped at Namjoon's exclamation and my glance at Jungkook showed him to be in the same emotionless stare down but instead he was staring down Yoongi. He knew too, but why hadn’t he told me?

“She’s part of our pack, of course I would scent her.” Taehyung had no emotions in his words, the monotonous response seemed to aggravate my brother.

“Wait,” I held my hand up to the seething man before turning to his boyfriend. “I’m confused. Hobi said that licking my neck would be romantic scent marking and hugging was familial scent marking. Which would this be?”

My question caused all four hybrids to freeze up, Hobi’s face once again lighting up in embarrassment.

“Uh, he said that? Well, uh, that’s wrong.” Yoongi forced out, his face turning a light shade of pink.

“Hybrids themselves decide what the type of scent marking it is when they release the pheromones, and there’s a lot of different meanings that could exist. Typically a more familial scenting would be a hug- so that part is right- but also kissing the top of your head could work. Licking your scent glands isn’t a romantic way for scent marking, it’s more sexual.” Yoongi's face almost matched Hoseok’s at this point. “Romantically speaking there’s a lot of ways you can scent someone- like rubbing your necks against each other which is common amongst the canine hybrids. For us feline hybrids we rub our faces against the person, like he had done to you. The pheromones typically let us know, but he’s not releasing heavy enough pheromones for us other hybrids to notice, but rubbing his face against yours is claiming you as his in feline standards.”

“Oh,” I could feel the hybrid underneath me tense up as Yoongi's explanation came to an end. I glanced up at him to see him still staring down my brothers.

“I’m still a little confused but thank you Yoongi. Namjoon, Hoseok, I’ll take it from here, I don't need you hovering over us for this conversation. In fact, I think I'll take this conversation elsewhere, you three have fun watching the game. Joonie, dad recorded this and last week’s matches for you.” I worked my way into a standing position with Taehyung’s help and made my way to the stairs, both Taehyung and Jungkook glued to my sides.

“It was really nice meeting you Yoongi,” I smiled at him and waved my goodbyes as I made my way up. We made our way into my room, the two hovering in the doorway. Just like I had met them. I took a deep breath and settled onto the bed.

[x-chubby-reader]

Hey, how about hcs Ushijima,Terushima, Bokuto and Kuroo getting jealous when their chubby s/o being hitting on right before their eyes 🥴 what would they do? Might as well do nsfw a lil' bit? 🥺

Thank you! I love your works ❤🥰

 Jealous Haikyuu Boys + !NSFW!

Ushijima, Terushima, Bokuto, and Kurro x Plus size reader

A/N - Hope I brought this to justice. I loved this idea a lot but I think they might have made them a little toxic- Also sorry for this being very overdue with writing, but as most of you know my motivation for lots of thing is shit. Also Thanks to @livieeee for basically helping to edit and give ideas for this. I also may add to the other characters NSFW as I accidentally gave Bokuto the most detailed part

Lowercase intended

Not proof read

NSFW included

Cursing

The Characters are all aged up for this Headcannon

Ushijima

we are all very aware about how blunt he is with things

not one to bottle things up

if he doesn't like something, he will voice his opinion

ushijimas blunt ass will sat whatever he wants if he deems that its true

doesn't everyone want to know the truth about things?

he also isn’t one to be easily jealous over things too

his confident ass knows that he’s got you in the long run anyways 

he has complete trust in you, your his rock

ushi knows that you wouldn’t go off to flirt with some douche just for the fun of it

the first time that he had ever found himself jealous was when you had dragged him out to your friends birthday party in college

he wouldn’t of even gone if you hadn't forced him out to be social and to make some friends with people his own age and should get out of the house for something other than practicing with the volleyball team he was on

since the party had been for your friend finally becoming of legal drinking age, of course there had been alcohol

oh i wonder how this liquid luck could get you into a predicament?

you had needed to go to the bathroom, so you gave your boyfriend a little wave before leaving

it should of only taken you about five minutes, and ushi knew that

so when you took over twenty he decided to go looking for you

while he was searching for your thicker frame, you had been quite preocupied with something else

there was this guy, completely drunk off of his ass, who wouldn’t leave you along

“are you lightning? because your my mc-queen”

 just really icky and shitty pick up lines

homeboy was so touchy too omfg like back up ass hat

you hadn't even noticed the amount of time that had passed until you felt a strong hand on your shoulder

boy did that make you jump

and he looked pissed

~Nsfw~

homeboy really said posessive~

ushi literally ripped you away into the bathroom as you had been stuck in the hallways for god knows how long

for once his touch wasn’t gentle with you, it was more rough and less caring

he’s so rough with you right now oml

to make the story short, you won’t be walking easily later

he wants to make you yell out, to show everyone in the premis know that you are his

“how about you let everyone know who you belong to, sweetheart~”

his buff ass literally is holding you up, just fucking railing into you

only stops when he deems that you are done

he even apologizes if he hurt you too badly

cleans the both of you up with one of the guest towels hanging, before walking you ever so gently out to grab a cab and make your way home

Terushima

while the two of you had been out shopping for god know what, you happened to spot an old friend

he was ole of those guy friends that were overly touchy, but you never had really minded it since he was just being nice

your friend had been very high energy and affectionate, but they always meant well

so your boyfriend, terushima, had just smacked a smile on his face and acted as friendly as could be

But he was jealous of all the attention you were giving him

hey you couldn’t help it, you haven’t seen the guy in years

hello? teru is your boyfriend, not this guy!

the look on his face when you exchanged numbers to meet up later

you would of thought that you had just shot his puppy dear lord

he was so god damn sad

“he’s totally trying to get into your pants y/n!”

“no he isn’t teru, he’s just being nice”

“y/n, no-”

your so oblivious to it 

terushima has two levels jealously

he goes from pout-y little kid to complete asshole in a matter of seconds

homeboy is black and white with his personality, there is no gray area with him

even though he isn’t one to keep quiet about something he doesn't like, he did it anyways for your sake

though he glared holes into him

eventually when he had left ho boy did terushima give you an earful

you heard even more when he found about how you made plans with before mentioned friend to have dinner

it was just so the two of you could catch up after the many years that you haddn’t seen each other

“its just dinner”

“y/n its like he’s trying to date you

“can you chill out?”

“no! what? are you dating him now???”

okay he can be a little high strung sometimes, but its something you can tolerate

~NSFW~

remember how you had given him your phone number?

yeah, that may be important

while you had been getting ready for your little ‘dinner date’ with your friend, teru had still been glaring at the back of your head

you could see his annoyed look from the mirror, but you payed him no mind

hey, he would get over it sooner or later

your phone decides to start ringing, and its the guy

teru looks at it, then at you, then back at the phone

he hits answer before handing the phone to you

you decide to start talking, everything is in a friendly tone

and then he decides to play around a bit

a little nip here and there, nothing more nothing less

just to see what his little doll face can handle

then soon he escalates it more and more

soon lurking hands become groping and nips became hickeys

though you had to pretend that everything was hunky dory on your side of the phone

homeboy on the other line didn’t even think anything of it

“hey are you okay?” he had asked once when you particularly couldn’t handle his stimulation

“y-yeah i’m great right now...”

his hand would slip and dip into places that you had forgotten about until now

just the smooth and slick friction would bring heat to your face, though 

that’s when teru had taken the phone back

“screw off your asshat, never call her again!”

and he never did, even if you say him in public, he would walk the other direction 

Bokuto 

the two of you had just been out window shopping and peaking into stores on a saturday

when a store employee had started talking about a popular television show that had aired yesterday, you hadn't thought anything of it

in your mind it would of been rude to ignore them completely,

what if they were just having a bad day and you little small talk and brightened it just a little?

you didn’t want to have something like that on your consensus 

bo had been standing beside you the entire time, and you hadn’t even noticed the way he had stiffened and almost seemed to puff up, like an owl

there had been one person who did notice bokuto’s uneasiness

baby boy had thought that the two of you had been flirting when he walked by

omg he looked so sad

he went from being all perky and happy to looking like a deflated balloon

it was pretty pathetic

sooner or later the worker had felt so awkaward that he left, that’s when you had noticed his discomfort

he had waved if off until the two of you had gotten home, then you finally cornered him and asked

“whats wrong?”

he just rolled his eyes to himself, “you should know!”

yeah just the buffering circle above your head for that one

you really had no idea

“i seriously don’t bo...” 

“yes you do, in the store that worker was totally flirting with you!” he had finally spoke out

oh...

that had made sense you guessed

even though you had apologized to him, he had still been down, even needy

~NSFW~

bo had just been clinging on you for the past hour

if your standing, he’s right behind you, just looming

he became a shadow or a lost puppy, following you everywhere

his arms always found their way to your generous waist, holding onto you as if you would be blown away if a gust of wind decided to make its way though your home

as you had tried to walk down the short hallway that connected your bedroom to the living room, bokuto had stopped the both of you

he looked down to you before grabbing your wrist

bokuto half dragged and half lead you to the shared room you both shared since you moved in together

he had pushed you, not carefully may I add, onto the futon bed

koutarou soon climbed on top of your plush frame, his face lightly dusted in a red hue 

one of his hands wandered down towards the plush button that resided between your thick thighs

the other had cradled the back of your head, pulling you back lightly so he could have more access to your neck and collarbones

bokuto lightly kissed your skin, it didn’t matter if imperfections or not

now this would have been more of a sweet moment if you hadn’t noticed the almost mocking circles you felt at your core

“am i good enough for you now baby owl?”

you would of answered him if you were able to form words, but the amount of stimulation that he was able to give you simply from the tips of his fingers was astonishing

damn boy he got magic hands

you had opened your mouth but no words came out

that had made the two toned haired boy let out a laugh

the only thing that you thought to do was to wrap your arms around his broad back

“speechless, huh” he had taunted you, a smirk on his face

he just kept up his happy little circles, the stimulation bringing a warm, almost butterfly like feeling to your abdomen

 it was if he filled an empty part of you, and you needed him to survive

the tightness in your core had started to bubble, feeling as if you were going to top off the edge and boil over

your former speachless self was soon a babbling mess, telling bo how much you did need him

and even after you had reached and passed your high, he hadn't stopped, he loved the way your words flowed from your mouth in light, breathless pleas

oh he wasn’t even done

play nice you two

Kuroo

out of the two of you, kuroo had always been the more jealous one

baby boy is passive aggressive about it too

he doesn't do the keeping it to himself kind of bullshit

just completely straight to the point

he dosent often become jealous either

kuroo trusts that you wont get flirty or ‘advance’ on anyone else, because you have him for that

why would you need anyone else when he’s right there?

he has the confidence that all of us are jealous of

you and i know that this boy gives little insults to almost everyone

just in a joking and playful way, because that’s just how he communicates to people

but if someone decides to push it

ho boy

mr. rooster man slowly gets more and more passive aggressive

literally they turn into thinly veiled threats

you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears

so imagine his reaction when the waiter at a restaurant had decided to get a little too cozy with interacting with you

kuroo had been sitting right across from you, a pissed off look slapped over his face

who was this asshole and why the fuck was he going after his little kitten?

he had kept his mouth shut but raised an eyebrow at your plush form

it was as if he was asking if you were going to let this guy keep his shitty advances up

you just thought he was being friendly, but according to kuroo he wasn’t

when he had figured that you weren't going to stop him, he spoke up

“lay off dickwad” his voice had been laced with the utmost hate, you had never heard him ever use that tone before

with that, he had grabbed you by the arm before leaving, not paying for the two glasses

~NSFW~

the two of you had gone home in his car

no words had been exchanged between kuroo or you

“you were so into that, weren't you y/n” the bed-head boy had muttered to you, almost in a mocking way

you couldn’t think of a reason on why he was acting like that, so you had just kept your mouth shut until he would drop you off at your apartment

his hand that usually resided on your plush thigh while he was driving was currently white knuckled on the the steering wheel

even though he was looking at the road, he looked completely pissed

no plea for him to talk to you would make him speak up, it was as if he was stuck in thought

even when he had dropped you off at your flat, he seemed to still loom over you

when you took out your keys, he took them from your hand and opened the door himself as if you were suddenly incompetent of doing anything for yourself

“need someone to do everything for you huh? just too dumb in the brain to do anything...” kuroo had sneered to himself

“okay what the fuck is your problem you asshole?” you had finally spoken up, really what was this jerks deal with you?

homeboy had glared at you before pinning you against the wall in your own home as if he owned the place, “oh so now you talk, you were so fine with that guy in the restaurant huh? completely preoccupied with him to forget that i was there...”

suddenly everything is making sense right now, the puzzel pieces are fitting together

homeboy was jealous and you had no idea, you just though he was being pissy for no reason

he just sighed, putting his head in the crook of your neck, “idiot...”

kuroo had finally turned his head to look up to you, a slightly sad look on his face

oh you felt like complete shit, homeboy looked so down that your heart hurt

you leaned your head slightly down so you could give the top of his head a lil kiss kiss

homeboy almost seemed to purr from the affection

he slung his arms over your shoulders, it was as if he was leading you into the minimal living room that you had

the two of somehow ended up on the crappy couch you had, him on top humming happily down below at you

sandwiched happily together

“i’m still disappointed in you...” he muttered, looking down at you

“oh bite me” though you paused before thinking, “how about i make it up to you?”

kuroo had smirked, “and how are you going to do that?” he questioned you

it was as if you had suddenly forgotten how to speak, a burning heat spreading from your cheeps to the bridge of your nose

lets just say that you did not expect that answer from him in the slightest-

his slender hand ran up the side of your torso, as if he was memoriizing the peaks and valleys of your figure

“i’m the only one who can make you feel like this,” kuroo had muttered cockily, staring into your eyes

he had no shame making comments like these, why should he?

his fingers snuck under the elastic material of the underthings you had currently been wearing, teasingly testing the waters and rubbing fether-like circles over your sensitive bits that were located on your chest

“are you ready?”