#it's half past four in the fucking morning why do I do this shit?

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[homunculus-argument]

My usual problem of "and then some other shit happens" is that they keep piling up on top of each other. This morning, I was just about to start work when

mail comes in. I've received a letter from the tax office.

I open the letter and get a Fuck No Way That's Right kinda bill.

time to hit up my accountant and ask what the fuck do I do now

realise that I haven't delivered my accounting stuff for like four months either, gotta apologise to her about that too

e-mail doesn't go through, double-check the address, re-type my whole apology and explanation again

four consecutive e-mails do not go through

fuck I gotta call them, where's my phone

just as I was about to make a phone call, I receive a phone call

forgot I had a phone appointment with my doctor, turns out I do not have a natural physical resistance to poison damage, and my medication resistance is something else.

confident in my ability to execute two unrelated tasks at once, I take a sip of my tea while on the phone. Naturally I fuck it up and pour the lukewarm tea on my lap instead.

figuring that since I'm unhurt and only poured enough to soak my clothes, not my chair, I'll just sit with the wet tea on my lap until the phonecall is over, and hang them to dry on the balcony later.

phonecall done, I remove my clothes and go hang them up to dry.

spot my little ficus tree cutting on the balcony, decide to water it since it's so hot and I don't want the thing to die.

coming back inside after leaving my clothes on the balcony, my boyfriend sees me undressed and wants affection.

he also wants to show me a video that he came upon.

make myself more tea

coming back to my computer, remember the phonecall I was supposed to make.

call the accounting people and tell them I can't e-mail the person I worked with, and get informed that the person I had been working with quit unexpectedly, and the one currently running the whole business on her own will look into my shit once she's personally out of the hospital. She meant to call me earlier about What The Fuck I'm Doing but unfortunately hospital.

promise her to deliver my accounting things today since it's the least I can do to not make her day any worse than it already is.

save through my paypal activities, log onto my online bank, check my account and do some math to confirm that I should more or less be alright until my next payday. Move some more money to my bank card account for groceries, and log out.

remember that the reason why I logged into my bank in the first place was the accounting, and log back in to get that data.

send my records to my new current accountant with apologies for not doing that for four months despite of being supposed to do it monthly.

finally done with that, satisfied of actually Getting Things Done, I suddenly realise I've spent the past three hours on random sidequests, haven't even touched whatever it was that I was planning to do today, and top of that I've completely forgotten what it was that I meant to do.

waste another half an hour writing a meticulous account of how I spent my morning doing everything else than what I meant to.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

sink, m | jjk

you left your hair tie, battin’ those eyes by the sink, you leave ‘em behind think I know why – 'hair tie' by ØZI

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-with-benefits going downhill thanks to shitty communication; smut (fem reader, f and m-receiving oral, heavy petting, m-masturbation, ball spanking, spit kink, breath kink, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – fuckboy?Jungkook x rock fan!reader tired of his shit XD inspired by the song above and ofc I referenced 'Too Much' ;)

--

You left your hair tie by my sink again.

Oh, shit, my bad. I’ll pick it up next time I’m over. :)

You left him on read.

Went back to brushing your teeth, looking down on the clear hair tie by your sink. It was one of those squiggly ones that were meant to not leave ceases in the hair. Not one of those that could easily be secured on the wrist. He must have taken it out right after. Well. He had needed it. You would have opened the window to get that cool night air, but Jeon Jungkook was loud when he was fucking.

Hm.

He sweat a lot when he was fucking. All over his back and chest, his skin glistening in the rainbow starlight generated by your mood lamp. You didn’t really care if the lights were on or off. He liked mood lighting, so he bought it and left it in your room so he could turn it on when he wanted to turn you on. Always tried to act all cool about it, as if you didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he hit you up. As if he actually needed to talk to you in-person about the latest installment of the Marvel universe.

Uh huh.

Somehow your back had ended up against his chest. Somehow his mouth had ended up by your neck and somehow his hand had ended up sliding under your shirt. Can’t stay too late, he always said. Same lines to the same old story. You half-scoffed into the mirror, switching sides of your teeth. The same routine, accidentally knocking the light switch, somehow knowing exactly where in your nightstand the remote for the mood lighting was, and then it was clothes on the floor. Your hand around his wrist and your hot breath by his ear, the fuck you think you’re doing?

“What? Too much?” he had replied with a smirk.

The shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

Fuck it.

The hair tie must have been because he had planned to eat you out today. Precautions. He was better at it this time than the last. It wasn’t that his black hair was excessively long. A good amount simply fell past his ears when he leaned forward and, between your thighs, it stuck when he sweat. You might have lightly complained about it last time. Jungkook was self-conscious enough to remember and pull back the upper half of his hair before showing up at your doorstep. His own damn fault since he liked to plant his hands on your ass and drag you forward into his face, strong tongue consistently and firmly pressed to your clit and looking up at you with those round dark brown eyes of his. He had been trying to tease you but you saw right through him.

“A little higher up,” you had gently prompted.

The simmering waves danced through your veins as soon as he obeyed. Your hand had eventually found the back of his head. Crowning touch and locking your hips, feeling your slickness press against his lower lip and chin. The thought of your juices smeared into his double lip rings. Your tense thighs pressed into his jaw and cheeks. His long fingers sinking into the full curve of your ass.

The ghost of imprinted fingertips lingering on your skin.

You leaned over the sink bowl and spit out foam.

Jungkook had been truly annoying about it from the start. Needed to know that he was the best you had ever had. First kiss was an accident in the way that accidents don’t really happen. The kind of accident that was you getting into his face after he called you at three twenty-four in the morning and ordering you to stay on the line so he didn’t drunkenly pass out while walking home on a night out. He had even thrown up in some poor neighbor’s flowerbed mid-walk. The next day you had gone over to his place with take-out food and an annoyed attitude, confronting him after he had groggily brushed his teeth, smelling his minty breath as you scolded him that he was too old for this shit, right next to his bathroom sink.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes had given you this look.

And you immediately knew how this was going to play out.

The kiss was to get you off my case, he said.

But.

“But… would you do it again?”

You rinsed your mouth out and applied your lip balm.

Not seeing yourself in the mirror, but instead seeing your shocked face from back then, squeezed between his bare arms and tasting the mint of his breath, strands of his black hair against your face. You remembered the way he smelled. Like warm, crystal-clear rain. The residual notes of cologne. You had found it later on his dresser. A square glass bottle.

Calvin Klein, Euphoria for men.

Strange, you had smelled that scent on other men before but he never smelled as good as it did on Jeon Jungkook.

But he did this shit all the time. A little kiss here. A little kiss there. Loved to disappear and pop up at just the right time when you were thinking about him and suddenly you were alone with exploring hands and a smiling mouth, is it too much, and you would reply in your most unfazed tone, shut the fuck up. He would promise he wasn’t fucking around but also he wouldn’t stick around either. You didn’t chase him but also you would blow his mind every time. Like that one instance where he had thrown himself into the wall and wheezed for air after you non-stop sucked him off for three orgasms straight, only stopping because you were done swallowing.

“Fuck… How does your mouth always get me hard so fast, f-fuck…”

“Told you not to question me,” was your calm reply as you wiped your lip with the heel of your palm.

There was no way that you were going to tell Jeon Jungkook that he was driving you insane with his behavior. Maybe he really wanted you to be the one to say it. But you weren’t going to, not with his constant, too much or next time or his stupid non-accidental leaving of his hair tie by your sink. He had shirts and sweatpants left behind in your apartment, just in case. The scent of Euphoria for men lingering on your bedsheets for a few hours, but it would disappear before the morning.

Just like him.

You knew Jungkook didn’t like it that you never tried to stop him from leaving.

“If you have to go, you have to go.”

If he wanted to, he would.

You left the bathroom, holding your phone loosely.

-

Jeon Jungkook looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she would let him love her the way he did.

He had a sinking feeling.

It started in the way that all accidents don’t happen. His finger hovering over her name in his contacts one too many times. More than one of those drunk times actually pressing it and then immediately ending the call. And then a single one of those extra drunk times not hanging up when she answered at the second ring. The fuck was she doing up at three in the morning anyway? His drunk brain was too over the moon to care though. His impulses uninhibited and his mouth going off before his brain could keep up.

Then promptly informing her that he needed to vomit and throwing up in some random flowerbed.

Not one of Jungkook’s best moments.

For some reason, she hadn’t completely written him off for that. Both a good thing and bad thing. A good thing because at least that didn’t disgust her. A bad thing because it made him fall in love a little harder. Then she had showed up on his doorstep the next morning with breakfast and looking like a million bucks. She looked too beautiful with tousled hair and that stern kindness. Even her lips moving as she chided him, you are not a kid anymore, you’re an adult, they looked so soft and inviting and she didn’t back away from he leaned in.

His head hurt like hell but he did it.

Her perfume was sweet and smokey and addictive.

He could still remember the feeling of her hand on his chest. Only thin white jersey separating him from those five fingertips. What are you doing? It was his fault. She put him on the spot and he couldn’t admit it fast enough. Getting you off my case. She shoved him and he laughed it off, setting a precedence that he couldn’t stop. No.

Didn’t.

“But… would you do it again?”

She had scoffed at him.

“Let’s see if you’re brave enough to meet me after dark when you’ve got a clearer head. Bye.”

There was something in that expression that dared him. Something in her body language that he couldn’t get out his head. Word on the street was don’t fuck around and find out, so Jungkook did precisely what any man would do when encountered with that information.

He fucked around and found the fuck out.

“Hey, now.”

Shit, her ass had looked so damn good in those black leather pants.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, punk?”

He had never met a better tongue. And her breath. He had begged her to breathe on him before. Hot and heavy like his heart, over his neck and chest and down his abs, warming the line of spit made by her wicked tongue. Unseen marks that stayed in his mind when he closed his eyes, looking down to her sensual stare, locking eyes with him as her tongue curled around the swollen head of his cock. Didn’t even need to look. So fucking hot. There was magic in that mouth. He never knew what to expect next but it was always exactly what he wanted. Soft and tight. Rough and deep. Warm tongue that curled around his girth and pressed him into the ridges, driving him insane with the sensations and the pressure.

If he had ever wanted anyone else, he had already forgot about them.

Jungkook refused to believe that she fucked anyone but him with that kind of vigor. She would place her palms on the headboard and ram her hips into him like he owed her goddamn rent. Pussy squeezing him all around. Dripping down his balls, sticking to his inner thighs. She would throw her hair back and grin after she blew his mind, sure, I can go again, like it was no big deal even though his chest was about to burst. He must be special.

Right?

He had brought a hair tie with him last night so his hair would stop sticking to his face.

He needed a haircut.

It made him so mad that she wouldn’t take the bait. She would corner him before he had his trap set and then he would balk under her stare, lips to lips to avoid saying anything. Hand to skin. Lips to his jaw, tongue playing with his earrings.

He just didn’t know.

Jungkook rolled in his bed, wishing it was her body beside his.

Stay away. She was a nightmare dressed like a daydream, everyone said. Road to ruin, everyone said. He didn’t care about that shit but he could feel the distance. Even between naked bodies and tongue to tongue, Jungkook got the feeling that she was never going to need him and that pissed him off. Was that stubbornness? Yeah. But wasn’t she being stubborn too by not giving in to what was so clearly there?

He had pulled the hair tie out and put it by the faucet, rinsing off his face to clear his head.

I’m not gonna stay if she doesn’t make me, he had said to himself, using her soft white hand towel to wipe his face. Looked at himself in the mirror and remembered that morning when she had come up behind him, yanking his shoulder and telling him he was too old for this shit. He wished she had done the same thing to him last night too.

But she hadn’t.

The sinking feeling persisted.

He texted back and he would get the hair tie next time. Next time. But she was pulling away and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t like it. It made him irritated. It made him think he didn’t need this. It made him think he didn’t want anyone else because he was addicted to her now.

And.

It made him sad.

He looked to see if she had replied and of course she hadn’t. Reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside with a click of his tongue. Needed a shower. Needed to wash her memory off his mind. Maybe make an effort to call his friends and go out tonight.

Jungkook got up from his bed, holding onto his phone.

-

People were scared to be messy these days. But not you. The world was always going to be chaos. The only way to be in control of it was to be at the center.

Or start it.

You liked to be alone and you liked to be alone amongst people. The kind of feeling most people dreaded. You slid in deeper, deeper into the crowd, caged by body heat and bated breath. The world was darkness alight with neon points. The thundering bass traveling up from the floor seized the heart, threatening to stop it. A steady, continuous beat before the chaos. The other audience members where whispering amongst themselves in the dark. And there you were, standing in the vacuum of space surrounded by universes abound, and you the black hole, catching bits and pieces of their excited conversations, passively devouring in their palpable anticipation.

The music started.

The mosh pit came alive.

You had earplugs to prevent permanent damage for your dangerous pastime. Drums and guitar and guttural vocals. Bodies on the floor and leaning up against yours, even jostling you, but you paid it no mind, licking your teeth and letting the vicious, subline energy burn through you. It was hard to think about anything else. The band was alternative rock but they occasionally covered heavier songs live which was a real treat for your nostalgia.

A phase you never grew out of, heh.

You headbanged along and thankfully the hair tie kept the majority of your hair away from your face.

Not that it would have really mattered here. The concert was a psychedelic and everyone here was under the influence, lost in their own high, too deep into each song, reliving old memories and creating new ones. No one would care if you were sweaty. Everyone was sweating. Still, even with the mesh cutouts on the thighs, you probably shouldn’t have worn these leather pants. Now it was becoming disturbingly hot and you were really hoping adrenaline could make you forget about it. At least you had opted for a mesh long-sleeve shirt and loose crop top with the band’s logo on your upper half. Plus, you learned from last time – a skimpy black swimsuit top under instead of a bra.

Moisture-wicking, check.

“Nice jewelry.”

“Thanks,” was your quick reply between songs. They were talking about your tangle of silver bracelets and chain necklaces, you assumed. You did not really want to engage anyone too much. Rock bands tended to attract a lot of unsavory men. You never knew who you were amongst unless you trusted too much, so it was better to be distant and vigilant.

You tensed during the interlude as the band took a break.

“Are you by yourself? Me too.”

It was years of unfortunate experience that made you relax, because now you could tell the difference between someone you could hurt and someone that could hurt you. You didn’t check your phone when it vibrated while you spoke to the man who approached you. You could feel it and your cardholder practically glued to your hip in these tight leather pants. You weren’t going to get pickpocketed without a fight. But that wasn’t what this was. The guy was calm. Young face with an oddly wise aura. Seemed a little nervous. He was cute in a shy way.

Reminded you of someone.

Intimidating with his broad shoulders and all-black fit. Black hair swept over his forehead and soft dark eyes so large that they reminded you of boba pearls. You got him to smile easily. He had a brilliant, stunning smile. Apparently, he was supposed to meet a date and they flaked on him. It could have been a fabricated story, but he seemed genuine in the way he described it. Since he had already paid, he had decided to stick around. Noticed you because, unlike everyone else tightly packed in their groups, you thrashed alone. He said he was surprised that you had come alone. Even more surprised when you clarified that you had wanted to come alone.

“Well, big bad lone wolves like me can protect timid chipmunks like you, hm?” you joked.

After all, the world didn’t stop revolving just because Jeon Jungkook didn’t try hard enough.

That made him laugh and you let him enjoy the night with you. Even without knowing someone deeply, there was just something about enjoying music together that was its own intense experience. Bonded by bass and beating hearts, by the winded lightheadedness of whipping your heads too hard, by melodies that reminded you of darker times that made you stronger now, strong enough to be alone and casually with another, impulsively letting this strange wrap his arms around your legs and lift you so you could blow your lungs out and go hoarse during the last song.

You didn’t even feel your phone vibrate again because the bass was too fucking intense.

You bounced off that broad shoulder as the lights went down, laughing manically, electricity still simmering in your veins.

“I always wanted to do that.”

“Glad I could help,” the handsome stranger was chuckling. “You’re insane.”

It was, and you took it as such, a compliment.

You didn’t see Jeon Jungkook’s double text until you pulled out your phone to get this guy’s number.

Hey.

I see you.

A strange feeling. But you did as you intended and broke away, not lingering as the rest of the crowd filed out. You weren’t sure if this annoyed new guy, and at the moment you didn’t really care. Life, after all, was not a fairy tale. You wouldn’t have linked up tonight anyway, with or without Jungkook’s texts. The concert had been set in was a small venue next to a bar. People were either going through the side door or through the bar to keep the night going. You also followed towards the bar because you needed to get to the main street to get to the train.

If Jungkook had seen you, he must have brought tickets as well.

You hadn’t thought to even ask him.

You texted back.

You still see me?

Yeah.

You raised your eyebrows at the immediate answer, breaking out the crowd and moving towards the wall. You didn’t, however, look up. You weren’t about to give that satisfaction. Checked the time and the train schedule. Hm. You debated on whether or not to entertain this bullshit.

You look really good. Love your hair like that.

It took effort to not roll your eyes. Thing is, he could just approach you right now. The crowd was thinning out, but you ignored everybody and stayed glued to your phone. The only reason he wasn’t, then, was because he must be with others, which meant for some reason he didn’t want them to know that he was talking to you right now.

And.

That shit really pissed you off.

You cocked an eyebrow.

Come get your hair tie.

One of those times where you actually wanted to be left on read.

But he disappointed you.

Your place or mine?

You stuck your tongue in your cheek and dropped your hand, shoving your phone into your leather pants. Didn’t bother looking around. Just started walking out the door, thinking about the fastest route to the train station. Huh. Twenty-first century and Jeon Jungkook was out here thinking only guys like him could be fuckboys. You pushed through the smoked glass, out into the cool night and bustling street lit up with streetlamps and neon signs. Maybe you should have followed that stranger tonight. No. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t right. You shook your head at no one, whipping your hair about your shoulders, and began your brisk walk, Jeon Jungkook on your brain.

Fucking idiot.

-

He realized it too late.

The top of her hair had been pulled back, half-up, half-down, with wisps of bangs around her face, and he recognized those black leather pants, damn, her ass looks so good, and then he still didn’t get it as her shoulders slumped. She completely ignored his reply, walking out instead.

Ten minutes and then it hit him.

Come get your hair tie.

Fuck.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go.”

“What? Why? Did something happen?”

“Yup, bye.”

“Yah, Jeon–”

He didn’t even wait to hear his name being called, instead jumping over the chairs in haste and one beat away from running, just now realizing how fucking stupid he was. His heart fluttering as he knew a little piece of him was with her, but he was also mad. One of his friends had suggested the concert thing earlier tonight, and they had arrived late, staying in the back with their beers and enjoying the music. It had been a small, dark venue, but it suited the band and their heavy sound. Jungkook thought he had been going a little crazy, thinking about her all night with a drink in his hand, so crazy that he thought he had seen her silhouette towards the front. Thought he recognized that flying hair and rocking shoulders, but, no way, right? Then that same girl was lifted onto a shoulder and bouncing with her hand held high.

Devil horns and everything.

Whoever it was tipped her head back and Jungkook swore he recognized that back and those body proportions. Then her hoarse voice entered the meld of screams and instruments and boosted bass.

And he knew.

She was with someone.

Someone that wasn’t him.

He wanted to remind her. Remind her it was him that held her last night, remind her it was his mouth between her legs and his hands on her ass, but mostly he just wanted to remind himself. He wanted to know who it was that she was with but she had emerged from the doors alone. Weird. It made him feel a little better though. Selfish, Jungkook knew, but so he was. He had stayed were he was, at a table with his friends, out of her sight, but she didn’t even look up. Really. She was willing to make him feel all kinds of fucked up and not willing to even look the fuck up.

Okay.

Come get your hair tie.

Yeah, okay. Okay, she wanted to use him. Fine. Fine, he was cool with that. But she left him on read. In fact, he watched her not look back and leave. Wow. And then it hit him and now he was running in the night, past flooding pools of light and wishing to catch a glimpse of mesh sleeves or black leather pants or even those heavy black boots with silver metal heel. Now he was throwing himself onto the train and trying to remember which one was her stop, wondering why he didn’t see the invitation for what it was. Now time was a thief stealing away the perfect moment and he was chastising himself for not chasing that feeling that he wasn’t so sure about.

-

You pulled the clear hair tie out of your ponytail. The squiggly kind that was meant not to leave ceases in the hair. The strands still ended up wild from the headbanging and the windy night. You ran your fingers through it haphazardly, annoyed when your fingers caught a snag. Scowling at your bathroom mirror as you untangled the strands and wondered why the fuck you ever let Jeon Jungkook get in your brain and drive you insane.

Fuck it.

Fuck him.

Your body was still on a high from the concert. Nerves alight, senses simulated, emotions caught in a rollercoaster. You yanked your clear earplugs out and cleaned them off in your bathroom sink, patting them dry with your hand towel and leaving them next to the hair tie.

You looked down at it.

Should throw it away.

Your hand reached out and then there were three loud thumps at your apartment door.

You jerked and backtracked, surrounded by no light except for the one from the bathroom. It was a short walk. You had to step past your heavy black boots, careful not to stub your toe on the metal heel, and peered through the peephole, seeing a large dark brown eyeball because Jeon Jungkook was too damn close to your door.

You yanked it open.

“The fuck–”

And froze.

He was panting, slightly hunched over. Wearing a black racer jacket with white stripes. It lay half off one shoulder, exposing the black tank top underneath and a peek of his right arm tattoos. Slate blue jeans with slight rips on one knee and black boots, but none of that made you stop and stare, not even his furrowed brow and annoyed expression.

“You cut your hair,” you beathed.

It was fresh. Sides cut short, with the top layer long enough to touch his brows. Currently half swept back, probably from running around. A few strands fell by his dark eyes, additional shadows to this harrowed tension. You backed up. He stepped in, one hand catching the doorframe.

Jungkook glared at you and you felt none of that fake frostiness.

“Yeah, I had a hair appointment today,” he huffed. “I didn’t come for the damn hair tie.”

It was all piling together. The moments of hands around each other’s waist, around his wrist, around his hard cock with his low voice in your ear. Don’t stop. The things unsaid and not said. The nights with him and the mornings without him. Backing away from Calvin Klein’s Euphoria still clinging to your sheets. Alone. The music of your youth, hard and rough and full of anger. The strength of a stranger and the cold air of the night, and suddenly you felt alive, alive and needing answers and fucking pissed off at all the shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

You let him in your apartment, but not in your space.

“How did you know where I was going to be?” you accused.

The door fell shut.

Jungkook cocked his head. Dark eyes finding yours, cornering you with his gaze. You locked stares and did not back down. “Where else you gonna go but home?” he shot back.

You narrowed your own eyes and didn’t bite your tongue.

“How would a guy like you know what home even means?”

-

Goddamn, the one always knew how to hit him where it hurt.

He stopped moving forward.

But his heart was racing fast, remembering all the moments piling together. Lips to lips, hips to hips, and how tightly she held him, as if she wasn’t going to let him go. Not falling for any of the traps he set but drawing him closer and closer each time with that look in her eyes. Alone. Trying to forget how it felt to be held by her even through it was the most secure he had ever been.

Thinking about it now, maybe too much.

His voice wavered in the darkness between them.

“But, would you do it again?”

She paused at his question. Those eyes seemed a little less shadowy, a little less space between them but only for this second. Kept her hands by her sides though, not reaching out to him.

“How much of this was a lie?” she quietly asked.

He answered honestly.

“None of it.”

She scrutinized him. He stayed an open book. Mostly because he didn’t know any other way to cover up except run, can’t stay too late, didn’t know what was the right thing to do when clearly he had done so much wrong, didn’t know how this was going to end but Jungkook damn well knew this was gonna fuck him up for his whole life.

Silence.

That sinking feeling.

“You have time to spend?” she finally asked.

-

“Yeah.”

Must be a dream.

You closed the distance, trying to stay awake, watching his eyes. Waiting for Jungkook to run, as he did so many times before. He always had somewhere to be that wasn’t here. Following his dark brown eyes, the memory of his taste on your tongue, breathing in the clean scent of Euphoria, closer, body heat radiating off him, and Jungkook bit his lip, causing the two silver lip rings to catch what little light there was, like punctured stars in the darkness between you and him.

His lashes lowered.

You looked at him, unfazed.

Raised your hand.

Placed five fingertips on his black top. Thin jersey fabric between skin to skin, and you walked them up his chest, staring into the windows of his soul to find the truth. Your lips formed his name, but made no sound. His own followed suit, breathing your name under a tense exhale, not yet moving, shivering as your middle finger traced his chain necklace.

“You never have time to spend,” you murmured, your breath against his jaw.

He lowered his head, gaze flickering away. Then back, mumbling even though he meant it.

“I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head.

Opened your mouth to chastise him, but all that came out was an exasperated chuckle.

“Don’t do it again.”

You pressed your lips against his.

Jungkook stole your breath and sank into you.

Your hand pressed into his chest and his arms slid around your waist. His fingers splayed out under your crop top, pressing the slinky micro-mesh against your skin and sending a tingling sensation up your spine. He tasted like haste and hunger. Warmth spreading out, squeezing your torso between leather-covered arms, gasping when your tongue flickered against his lips. Slow. Teasing. Dragging it out. Your other hand slid under his jacket, grasping the small of his waist and digging your nails in. He winced, a small whimper, then tried to cover it up by pulling back slightly, but your tongue remained, sliding out further between his open lips.

Your eyes cracked open to see Jungkook’s lashes flutter, his hot moan warming your lips.

“F… Fuck…”

Your tongue retreated.

Exhaled, giving it the weight that made it drift over his neck and chin. He sucked in a sharp inhale, opening his eyes too. A stand-off. His thighs pressed against your thighs. His erection was straining, even in his jeans. You traced your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, seeing him track the movement with bated breath, smiling slightly as his cock twitched.

He narrowed his eyes. “Can you not?”

You cocked one shoulder, smirking with the tip of your tongue at the edge of your teeth. “Why?”

The faintest of eye rolls. “You don’t suck my dick unless I shower first. And I haven’t showered yet.”

“That really sucks,” you hummed.

With just the correct about of intonation hat you had no sympathy. Especially since your hand was sliding over his ass to follow the line of his hip and then further down, hooking your thumb over the waistband of his jeans and molding your other four fingers around the unforgiving bulge. You heard him bite back a sound, pressing his biceps against you in warning, but you merely smiled, leaning forward to graze your lips against his cheek and jaw.

His cock pulsed strongly in your grip as you whispered into his ear.

Low and hot.

“That really sucks.”

Jungkook made a noise between a whimper and a growl.

But you didn’t care, pressing your breasts against his muscular chest. You knew he could feel your lack of bra through the layers of fabric, the confusion spreading over his facial features as you backed up. There was something there, his brain was working that out, but the swimsuit fabric was thin and your hard nipples were large enough for him to barely feel if he really flexed his pecs.

You unbuttoned his jeans.

He didn’t stop you because he would be crazy to.

The tension so tight that neither of you were breathing.

You grinned.

And yanked his underwear and jeans down at the same time.

You probably wouldn’t have tried this shit if it was someone else. Jungkook was habitual creature. The kind where he kept a small tube of hand sanitizer on him at all times, and you would catch him using it all the time, so absentmindedly that it seemed to have become second nature. He would do it after getting off the train. Walking aimlessly. Standing at your front door as you opened it, rubbing his hands together and directly looking at you, cocking an eyebrow.

The first time you noticed this action you thought he was being a creep before you realized it was hand sanitizer he was putting back into his pocket. He was not, in fact, imitating eccentric cartoon villain behavior. Had you in the first half, not gonna lie.

“What?”

It had been a pointed what at that time.

This time it was a sexually charged and gravelly, “What…?”

You squatted down and took his right hand, turning it palm up. Opened your mouth and drenched saliva all over his palm and fingers, the clean citrus scent of his hand sanitizer hitting your nose, hearing him hiss and feeling him tense. The tendons of his wrist stood out, black ink of his tattoos creeping out under the sleeve of the leather jacket. Your tongue lingered against the texture of his calluses along the top of his palm.

Guess he had been working out his frustrations.

“F-Fuck!”

You wrapped his spit-covered hand around his stiff length. Instinct and arousal and the slippery, tight, pleasurable sensation beat out any protest he had about what was happening, firmly and quickly jacking himself off right in front of your face. You calmly watched the glossy, swollen head pop in and out between his tightened fingers. All colors were desaturated due to the dark apartment. Didn’t matter. You had seen it enough times to know what he looked like.

You looked up.

Jungkook was looking down, gasping, the visible strain making his shoulders tremble. Jaw clenched, dark irises glassy, you’re so fucking pretty, shit, and you stuck out your tongue, enjoying the power. He shuddered, gripping himself tighter. Using your left hand, you hooked a thumb under the hem of your shirts, pushing them up, up, over your barely-covered breasts, revealing your hard nipples straining against the tiny black bikini top.

Those large brown eyes went wide, his lips parting.

“Oh, fuck…”

You used your right hand to shove the thin fabric away, scooping your breasts closer together to give him a good view, securing your left hand against your shoulder, easily holding the bunched-up fabric. Grinned, not hiding how pleased you were at his reaction. You lowered your right knee to the ground, stabilizing yourself.

And, now that your right hand was free, you reached forward and smacked his balls.

His black hair whipped in the air as his head snapped back, moaning sharply at the sudden impact. You slapped them again, and again. It was slightly slick from your own spit. Fast and firm. Not hard, since Jungkook hadn’t quite expressed the level he wanted yet, but then his head fell forward, erratic gasps and pupils blown out, squeezing the head of his cock hard, his entire body shaking.

“Harder,” he groaned out, depraved and deep.

You did as you were told, smacking harder and spreading out the hit over the entire area, keeping yourself exposed for him.

“Fuck… f-fuck…”

It was loud, lewd, and wet. His hand moving fast, and your fingertips repeatedly punishing his balls, his hips shaking in ecstasy. The scent of sex mixing with his crisp cologne, deliciously dirtying it. He turned his hand so it was palm up, knuckles down. You spat on his closed fingers and Jungkook moaned even louder, tipping his head back, sweat glistening along his throat.

Spit dripping down.

A bit of a mess, truly.

His head snapped back, fucked-out gaze, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Can… Can you breathe on me…?”

You leaned forward and parted your lips. Keeping eye contact, sliding your tongue out, and exhaled. Slow, heavy, saturated with warmth, leisurely drifting over his fast, tight grip on his hard cock. His eyes squeezed shut, drawn-out groan thundering in his chest. You did it again and his eyes opened, rolling back slightly, his lashes fluttering. You increased the pressure on his balls. The sharp smacks getting louder, wet thrusts, sensual sighs mixing with his desperate whine, and Jungkook tipped his hips down, fixated on watching himself cum onto your tongue and down your throat.

Hot, thick streaks.

You tilted your head back, drinking his orgasm down as you locked eyes with him, electric bliss simmering through your veins. His short black hair was damp with sweat. The strange feeling came back again, somewhere between a dream and reality, yet unmistakable clarity.

Fuck.

You were both sinking.

Shit.

-

“Don’t stop.”

To be honest, Jungkook didn’t like missionary for the sheer reason that she was too damn powerful in this position. Face too damn pretty. Tits too damn perfect. Legs on his shoulders letting him get too damn deep, soft thighs against his hard abs, pussy clenching around every centimeter of his length and not letting up, her hips smacking up every time he thrust down. Okay. It just felt too fucking good. It was a damn problem. He had to grind his teeth and fuck hard so he could slow down and not cum too fast. One would think the second orgasm would be difficult to reach, but one would be fucking wrong. His was rock-hard once she was naked and even harder when she dipped her fingers into her wet pussy to smear her juices over the throbbing head of his cock before he rolled the condom down.

“Are you a virgin or what – fuck!”

She was giving him that smug smirk of hers.

It both pissed him off and made him so damn happy.

A bitch faking it would be imitating shitty porn right now. That was why he never did missionary with any other women before her. It just made him limp. Better it hit it from the back and not have to look at their faces.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

“Always a virgin, only for you,” she snickered.

“I feel so fucking special,” Jungkook growled back, emphasizing each word by pounding her into the mattress.

He did, though.

Somewhere between dream and reality. That strange feeling as he watched her hands grip her pillows, her features softening as she fell into the pleasure, smacking her hips into his, their breathless moans blending together, primal harmony, and he knew he was well and truly fucked because instead of only drowning in the physical sensations of shoving his cock into that tight, wet hole, Jungkook was thinking about how he would wake up and bury his face in her hair the next morning, inhaling the scent of her sweet and smokey perfume, hoping other people could smell her on him, thinking about how lovely it would be to look over and see those eyes roaming over his face, every day and every night.

Well.

Shit.

She clenched around him particularly hard and Jungkook snapped out of his daydream.

Back into his lustful nightdream.

“Harder,” she hissed out, narrowing her eyes.

He was going to gasp, fuck you, but he was doing that already and there was no time to think because she sank lower into the mattress, angling her hips ever-so-slightly, and it was so deep, so good, so tight, losing his mind. Sweat dripping down his chest. He tucked his head back, trying not to get it all over her, bending his elbows and locking his muscles, driving his back and hips into his thrust, bending her in half and neither of them could breathe, closer, clawing up to the high, fast and intense and coiling tight in his chest, sinking down, down, deep down.

Airless.

His orgasm crashed into him so hard that his arms almost gave out.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

He was sure that the noise that came out of him was not one he wanted to be self aware of. Something between a choked groan and whining moan, lost in the pulsating walls shivering against his jerking cock, wave after wave burning through him. The high seared him like electricity and the aftermath was layers of sparks building over his skin, tingling nerves and forgetting about anything else, suspended in this feeling.

Then his muscles screamed from fatigue and Jungkook realized his back was alarmingly sweaty.

“A… ah, hah…”

She plucked the white hand towel from her nightstand and flung it over his shoulder, falling back into the pillows and gasping.

He was in the middles of wiping his face before he realized that she didn’t have a towel there the first time he came over. But a towel was always there every other time he had showed up after. Either white or dark gray. Always fluffy. He looked down. Her eyes were closed, her pants slowing down to heavy breaths. She hadn’t been looking at him during his epiphany.

She smacked his arm for a second time before he realized she was trying to get his attention.

“Put my legs down, damn…”

“Oh, shit, right…”

It took him a moment to untangle himself. She went to the bathroom, as she usually did. Their clothes were all over the floor. Leather pants. Mesh shirt. The bathing suit top. Panties. His tank top. Black boxer briefs. His jacket and jeans were out there somewhere in the hall outside the bedroom. He noticed a pair of folded gray sweatpants and white shirt sitting on the corner of her room, randomly atop a low bookshelf. He had put them there a week ago. Just in case. She hadn’t moved it.

Jungkook breathed out.

He patted his temple.

I’m in idiot.

Then vigorously dried his hair.

The feeling came back when it was his turn to clean up in the bathroom and he saw his clear hair tie by her sink. A little tangled up from use, next to a pair of clear earplugs. He should probably check his phone and tell his friends that he was fine, but it was somewhere out there in his jeans and Jungkook wasn’t going to go hunting for it right now.

He went back to the bedroom.

Damn, she was so stunning even simply lying in bed. Her gray duvet was only covering her lower half, her forearm draped over her eyes. Amazing breasts. He took a moment to ogle them, perfect nipples and all.

“Stop staring at my tits.”

Well, shit.

She raised her arm and cocked her eyebrow at him.

Not saying anything, but the message came across quite clear.

Jungkook draped the hand towel over his shoulder and picked up the gray sweatpants from the bookshelf, yanking them over his legs before looking up again. Those shadowed eyes were watching him carefully. Surprise but not quite believing. He left the t-shirt and dropped the towel onto the floor, walking over to the other side of the bed and throwing himself down onto the mattress, making her body bounce.

Side eye.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“I’m tired.”

She frowned at him.

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

He used his elbows to scoot himself to the pillows, resting his chin on the backs of his hands to look down at her. Her eyes followed the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. Down and then up. Observing his facial expression carefully.

“Can’t stay too late?” she whispered. Somewhere between a taunt and weariness.

It broke his heart a little, hearing his own words said back to him. He moved one hand and lifted her forearm from her brows, seeing more of her face now. The mood lighting was still on. Points of color dancing over the ceiling above them. They reflected in her eyes even as she faced him.

Jungkook could smell her perfume, soft and sweet and not yet clinging to his skin.

“Can I stay the night?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And why would you wanna to that?”

He shrugged, realizing now that it had never been a no.

“Boyfriends stay over at their girlfriends’ places sometimes. Free breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

“The shit you pull, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned down. Had to fight for the kiss. Hands on wrists. His chest pressed against her breasts. When their lips touched, he could feel her smiling, so Jungkook smiled too and kissed her deeply.

--

masterpost

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 4

[chap three] | [all chapters here] | [chap five]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Oooh lads, here we are again! I was going to save this chapter for tomorrow, but I'm having a bad day, so I decided to treat all of us with an update today! Not too much happens in this chapter, however, it still charmed me very much, and I'm the one who fucking wrote it lol. As always, enjoy and let me know what you think!

taglist: @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @steeldaisies

wc: 4.0k

Chapter Four

“What the hell?” Amelia hisses while practically slamming down her lunch tray. You looked up at her with feigned ignorance, your eyes cool as you took both her and Janet in. You’d once again attempted sitting at your new lunch table, the same dorky couple sharing it with you, amongst a few of their friends. Although the group briefly eyed you, they’d been ignoring you for the past few minutes. That is, until your friends showed up.

“What?” You asked before turning your attention back to your food.

“You know what.” Amelia insisted, staying on her feet with an irate look. You were shocked she even dared to come out here in no man’s land to talk to you for a second time. Janet, submissive as ever, stayed back, looking between you both with worried eyes, “Did you hit your head or something? Why are you suddenly so interested in Munson?”

Annoyance jaded your features. You settle your glaring eyes on Amelia, your voice just as accusatory as hers, “Why does it matter?”

She scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the word, “Because he’s a loser. What’s everyone gonna think if they keep seeing you two together? You already made a scene this morning, they’re already talking.”

You shrugged, far too nonchalantly for Amelia’s taste, as you spoke around a bite of food, which was actually your way of hiding the glee you felt knowing that people were already talking about you and Eddie, “Does it matter? Does any of this shit matter?”

“Of course it does.” Janet finally chimed in, her voice calm compared to Amelia, “You could get yourself in trouble hanging out with someone like him.”

You rolled your eyes before shooting her a condescending look, “When have I ever gotten in trouble for literally anything?”

“It’s bound to happen eventually.” Amelia countered, and you finally dropped your fork to look at them both, your frustration growing.

“If it bothers you so much,” You start, your tone cold and direct, as non-emotional and harsh as you could manage, “start hanging out with someone else. Start hanging around Duncan, for all I care. We have loads of other friends who I’m sure won’t do something as stupid as talking to a boy.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at the way you mocked them, familiar with the tone of voice you were using. She’s heard you use it at least half a dozen times before when you two had gotten into stupid arguments in the past.

“Look, whenever you’re done PMSing or whatever, you’ll see where we’re coming from.” With a finite look on her face, Amelia picked up her lunch tray again and headed off back to her familiar, comfortable lunch table. Janet gave you an apologetic look before scurrying off a moment later.

You should be upset. And, yes, a part of you was irritated by the conversation, and yet, a large smile spread across your face - you didn’t anticipate that you’d piss Amelia off so quickly and acutely. You two have fought a number of times before considering how easily your personalities could clash, but this felt like you actually accomplished something. Your plan was already working wonders, despite your continued doubts.

As you went back to your quiet lunch, you couldn’t help but watch your group of friends from afar, mostly in irritation, although you felt a mild pang of loss in your chest. They all looked so happy, so at ease with one another, and a part of you suddenly missed that feeling. But you knew you were just being nostalgic, because you wouldn’t feel any of those things if you sat with them - you wouldn’t feel happy or at ease, rather you’d feel annoyed and tense.

Yet you couldn’t help but that bit of sadness you felt at the sight of them.

Even Duncan, that asshole, looked cheery as he shared a laugh with the guys, clapping one of them on the shoulder. You couldn’t help but glower at the sight of him. Diverting your attention, your eyes began to scan the lunch room, wondering where exactly Eddie and his band of rejects sat. You’d never noticed before considering that it didn’t matter in the past, but it was probably a good idea to start keeping track of these types of things. 

You eventually found the gaggle of geeks, watching as they excitedly conversed. The mean-spirited part of you made a judgmental face, assuming they were talking about D&D or the arcade or something else equally as nerdy. After a few moments of taking in the group as a whole, you found yourself studying Eddie’s face, taking in his ever-changing expression; he didn’t seem to notice you watching him, which gave you a better chance at observing him.

Eddie was always theatrical, you realized, always throwing his arms around as he spoke or raising his voice for particular emphasis. You found it strange just how big his communication style was, especially considering how tightly wound you always were. Where he had his exaggerated movements and his dramatic tones, you had your tight motions and controlled voice. Just thinking about how different he was dared to give you a headache, and you caught yourself wondering what the hell you’d be in for once you two moved your fake relationship along.

Eventually, Eddie seemed to sense eyes on him, because his gaze found yours curiously. You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was able to see the movement from halfway across the cafeteria; when he made a face in return, you figured he noticed. He, too, raised both brows as if in question, nudging his head ever so slightly - it appeared that he was asking you to join him, but you couldn't be sure if that’s what he meant. Nonetheless, you shook your head at him, deciding that you were enjoying your quiet lunch and that you weren’t quite ready to put up with his group of loser friends for even five minutes. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to, you knew you’d get to that point eventually. Eddie gave a shrug of his shoulders, as if silently saying “suit yourself;” and although he turned his gaze back to his friends, you two continued stealing glances for the remainder of your lunch break.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Come Wednesday morning, Amelia wasn’t waiting for you at your locker. No one was except for Janet, who looked tense before she spotted you walking towards her. She tried to put on a brave face once you two met eyes.

You figured this meant Amelia wasn’t planning on talking to you anytime soon. Good. As for the rest of the group, it didn’t matter to you either way. Although, it was still surprising to see Janet here by herself - she must’ve been sent by Amelia.

As you approached, Janet gave you a sheepish wave. You couldn't help the familial smile you gave her - she was a much easier person to get along with than most others in your circle.

“How long before Amelia talks to me this time?” You jested with a mean quality to your voice.

Janet didn’t appear to be amused by it, though, as she responded, “She’ll hold out forever if she feels like it.”

You huffed out a laugh while opening your locker, “Good point. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

You two were silent for a few long moments as Janet nibbled at her thumb nail and you moved belongings between your bag and your locker.

“What’s going on with you this week?” She finally asked, out of curiosity, rather than with judgment. Nonetheless, you shot her a look, to which she quickly waved her hands as if to calm down whatever bitchiness was about to stir up in you, “No no, I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just… you’ve been weird since school started.”

So, Janet noticed. You wondered if anyone else had. Maybe they’d all been ignoring it, but now that Eddie was in the mix they couldn’t keep that up anymore.

You shrugged as the pair of you began the trek through the halls to your respective classes, your answer noncommittal, “‘Weird,’ huh?”

Janet watched you as if she was waiting for you to elaborate, before sighing and asking, “Is there something going on? Like, something you need to talk about?”

You laughed without thinking, a mean and dismissive sound even to your own ears, “Yeah right.”

Hurt flashed across Janet’s face, her tone clearly different than it was a moment before, “Geez, sorry I asked.”

“Just stop worrying about it, alright?” You insisted with harshness, your eyes cold as you looked over at her.

With a resigned expression, Janet dropped her head and sighed, muttering as she walked away, “Yeah, whatever…”

It briefly struck you that maybe you didn’t have to be so bitchy all the time. But, then again, you didn’t really know how to be anything else.

Your day went on as usual from that point. You discussed a boring book in first period, you wasted time in second period, and once third period rolled around, a vague excitement struck you as you remembered that that was the one class you shared with Eddie. You should not have been excited at that thought, not in the slightest, and yet it added something interesting to your otherwise stupid and monotonous day.

When you entered the classroom, Eddie was already there, sitting at his usual desk in the back corner, looking bored despite class not even starting yet, drumming his pencil absently on his desk. As you approached and he spotted you out of the corner of his eye, he sat up a little in his seat, a nearly cute smile crossing his lips. Once you reached his side, the kid next to Eddie glanced up at you curiously, to which you made a face; meanwhile, Eddie just appeared surprised that you were the one to initiate conversation.

“Didn’t see you this morning.” You started simply, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I was late.” He shrugged lazily before giving you a conspiratory look, “What, were you waiting for me?”

You narrowed your eyes a little at his teasing, responding in a flat tone, “Oh, I was absolutely heartbroken.”

“Figured.” Eddie grinned widely, to which you responded with a subtle smile.

You turned away and went to your desk in the second row, surrounded by other students who were part of your usual circle of acquaintances. While waiting for class to start, you looked around the room, your gaze unintentionally drifting back towards Eddie. You studied him for a few moments before a decisive look graced your features and you abruptly stood back up. The movement caused a couple of people to glance your way, but otherwise no one cared.

You walked to the back of the room, turning your attention on the boy sitting next to Eddie, who awkwardly looked between you and his desk as if he were nervous under your gaze, as if he feared looking you in the eye.

“Move.” You say harshly. He looks at you in surprise and confusion, to which you raise a curved brow as if challenging him to defy you, “Move.”

You didn’t have to repeat yourself again. With a surprised scoff, he collected his things and migrated to the next available seat, which was sure to throw off the entire seating arrangement of the class for the day. As you plopped down at the desk next to Eddie’s, he laughed halfheartedly, his expression just as surprised as the other boy’s.

“Jesus, you are mean.” He states, although his eyes seem to show at least a hint of appreciation. You shrug, pulling your notebook and pencil from your bag.

“Well, I wanted to sit here.”

“Ever heard of the word ‘please?’” Eddie teased, shaking his head at you. You gave him a look out of the corner of your eye, refraining from talking back.

As the bell rang and the stragglers migrated in, people began to notice your change of seat. Some people looked at you strangely, others with disapproval, and the rest just didn't seem to notice or care at all. Hell, even your teacher had to pause and search for you during attendance, realizing you weren’t at your usual desk. Her vague hum of disapproval was enough to get a few students to shoot glances your way. As if in response, Eddie stretched his leg across the aisle to rest his foot on the metal basket beneath your seat.

Math class came and went, and as you walked out of the room, Eddie followed right alongside. As you led the way to your next class, Eddie playfully bumped your shoulder with his, which was starting to become a common thing between you two already, a quick way for him to break the rules you laid out for him.

You glanced up at him with a raised brow, “Yes?”

Eddie shrugged, looking falsely nonchalantly, causing you to narrow your eyes in confusion and perhaps mild annoyance. The playfulness wasn’t something you were accustomed to, nor did you think you ever would.

“You gonna sit with us at lunch?” He asked, to which you pulled a face, causing him to laugh without amusement, “I take it that’s a ‘no.’”

“I didn’t exactly factor your friends into this plan.”

Eddie looked nearly amused, but also perhaps a touch critical, “What did you factor in?”

You made a face, but he continued to simply look down at you with a slight grin. You sighed in response, chewing the inside of your cheek with thought.

“I guess we need to come up with some more rules.”

“Do I get to make some this time?” Eddie joked.

You rolled your eyes smally, “I’ll allow it.”

“Then I guess it’s a date.” You paused momentarily to look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“You still have to actually ask me out, that doesn’t count,” The pair of you reach your biology classroom, so you pause outside the door. “I’m expecting those flowers and balloons, you know.”

“I’m sure you are.” Eddie mocked, that damned grin still across his lips.

Students brushed past you to enter the classroom, and you briefly wondered if Duncan - who you shared this class with - was already here, if he had noticed the two of you. But you didn’t dare to look into the classroom, because just your luck he’d figure you were looking for him. But as that thought crossed your mind, you took a small step closer into Eddie’s personal space, putting on your best look of interest as you stared up at him. Eddie first appeared flustered and confused, but he quickly brushed it off as he seemed to slowly realize what you were doing.

“You’re not half bad at this, you know,” Eddie teased, his eyes shining as he said in a slightly lower voice, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost believe you liked me.”

Despite yourself, your cheeks warmed a little, but you hoped that it wasn’t obvious. Or maybe you did want it to be obvious. There was just something about Eddie’s tone that threw you off your rhythm, and you mentally kicked yourself for it.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” The flirty expression on your face juxtaposed your flat tone, and Eddie’s face looked almost wicked in response.

“No, that’s supposed to be your job.”

You had to pull your eyes away from Eddie’s - you had absolutely no interest in him, but this performative flirting was starting to mess with you a little. That’s something you’d have to work on as well, because you didn’t need this plan to confuse you one bit.

You didn’t realize how long the two of you had been standing in the hallway, as the ring of the fourth period bell nearly startled you. You found Eddie’s eyes again, giving him as cute a smile as you could muster.

“Go before you land yourself in detention.” You instructed; Eddie grinned widely while shaking his head.

“I practically run detention.” He, again, brushed his fingers along the small of your back as he moved past you, holding your eyes as you watched him go, “I’ll catch you later.”

You gave a small wave before dipping into the classroom, eyes roaming over everyone as you walked to your seat. You caught Duncan looking at you knowingly.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

By Friday afternoon, Amelia was over your spat earlier in the week, insisting that you sit with them at lunch, to which you begrudgingly agreed after she kept pestering you. Well, maybe she wasn’t entirely over it - her snide little comments throughout the week made that abundantly clear. But, just as most teenagers do, she chose to pretend it didn’t happen and go on with life as usual. She ignored the little glances Eddie would shoot you in the hall, the little knowing looks you two shared, and you didn’t mention your new seat next to him in math class.

After classes ended for the day, you were amongst a group of students lingering in the parking lot, everyone discussing that night’s football game and other upcoming plans for the weekend. You actually managed to hold a half-decent conversation with a couple of the cheerleaders and a boy you once upon a time had a crush on back in freshman year; that never went beyond making out drunkenly a couple times at parties. Nearby, Duncan entertained a group with some story that probably wasn’t as interesting as everyone acted; he hadn’t acknowledged you this entire time, and had made it a point of ignoring you since Wednesday.

The group seemed to be in agreement that they’d all go out after the football game, and of course it was presumed that meant everyone, including you. You avoided saying anything on the subject so you wouldn’t be held accountable for it later.

At some point in your conversation, your former crush made a puzzled face at something past your shoulder. You mirrored his expression curiously, looking behind you to see what caught his attention.

Eddie was approaching the group. You had to give him credit, it was ballsy to come up to a dozen popular kids as the guy who was almost universally hated in this school. In that moment, you appreciated Eddie’s confidence and lack of fear.

You decided you’d rather spare yourself the headache of everyone ganging up on Eddie, so stealing a glance at the group, you slid off the hood of the car you sat on, walking away from them without another word. As you met him halfway, Eddie gave you a devilish grin, his eyes drifting from you to the crowd of kids just beyond your shoulder. You raised your brow challengingly at him, but managed a small half-smile at his presence.

You briefly wondered what they were all thinking, what they were all saying. You hoped it was nothing good at all.

“They sure look happy to see me.” Eddie commented, casually sliding his hands in his pockets with a lazy grin once you two came together.

Just like you’ve been working on, you stood closer to Eddie than you would have liked, giving a performance even as your back was turned to all of your friends and acquaintances. You needed to be convincing at all times, so you tried to think about all the little details that would suggest you were interested in Eddie, even if no one could see your face - leaning in as you spoke, twiddling your fingers, etc.

“So, are you asking me out now?” You tilted your head to one side as you asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

A small huff escaped Eddie’s nose, “You’re a real romantic, you know that, princess?”

“Aren’t I just?” You taunted, eyes narrowing.

Keeping his face cool, Eddie leaned forward so you were nearly eye level with one another, a smirk still resting on his lips as he responded in a prodding tone, “I’m going to ask you out now. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

You made a face at his mocking tone, but nodded nonetheless, staring at him impatiently. Eddie put on an extra charming smile for the audience inevitably watching your interaction as he stood back to his full height.

“Then in that case,” He paused to eye you up and down with an expression you’d never seen on his face before - if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve bought it, and you nearly flushed at that thought. Eddie projected his voice, not so loud that it was obvious, but just enough that some of your friends were certain to hear him, “So, what do you say? Let me take you out tonight, anywhere you want.”

“Tonight?” You asked with actual surprise while Eddie smiled at you with a charming look on his face.

“Unless you have something better going on.” Eddie taunted while stealing a glance at the group behind you, his expression growing almost too cocky considering that you both knew that you couldn’t say “no.”

You were certain the group was watching your conversation unabashedly, if Eddie’s attentive eyes were anything to go on. You traced your tongue along your lower lip as you drew out the moment just as Eddie had done to you before. When it seemed that you were taking too long, his gaze flicked back down to you.

“I really hope you don’t have something better going on.” He added as if he were getting nervous, as if this was real and the feeling of rejection was creeping up on him. You raised your brows tauntingly, your expression a little mean, and Eddie realized you did this on purpose. He just had to refrain from letting his impatience show on his face.

You finally show him mercy, adding a flirty smile despite the fact that your friends still couldn’t see your face, “Anywhere I want, huh?”

You could practically feel the impatient exhale that escaped Eddie, his eyes showing the slightest bit of annoyance at you. But he kept that charming grin in place.

“Anywhere.”

“Then it’s a date.” Your tone is a little brighter as you try to convey excitement.

You turn back in the direction of the group so that you could walk to your car, Eddie coming up alongside you. Your stride is confident despite all eyes on you, and you can see some of them whispering to one another. As you breeze past with Eddie beside you, you see Duncan shaking his head in disbelief, while another friend makes a harsh comment about Eddie.

“Pick me up at 7,” You start to instruct, letting your cool eyes look over the crowd of popular kids, “figure out if any good movies are showing, I’m craving popcorn.”

Once you two reach your car, you lean your rear back against the driver door while looking up at Eddie who now had his back to the group. You almost enjoyed the reversal, as you were able to catch every small glance sent your way by Amelia, Janet, and everyone else; now you could see just how harshly everyone had been staring at you before.

You whispered, forcing Eddie to stand a little closer, “We’re not actually going out tonight, I have something going on.”

“Damn,” Eddie teased with a false grin, “you got my hopes up.”

“But we do need to make plans soon,” You continue, ignoring his sarcasm, “We have to figure out how this is going to work.”

“And it’d be nice if your fake boyfriend actually knew anything about you.” Eddie added, to which you made a face despite knowing he had a point. A curious look crossed his face, as if what you said about having plans just a moment ago was finally setting in, “So… what do you have going on tonight?”

“Not telling.” You answer simply as you give him a wicked grin. Your eyes trail back to the group of your former friends for a split second, and in an impulsive act of defiance, you lean up to kiss Eddie on the cheek, his barely-there stubble tickling your lips. You pulled back with a flirty look, desperately fighting the impulse to make a face at the physical contact that you just initiated, “We’ll talk next week, Munson.”

[phthalomushroom]

The Family (3)

last next

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

word count: 3.3k

warnings: language, mentions of trauma, mentions of shooting, alys rivers, Italians, drunk aemond??

notes: this felt rushed but it is also long - sorry about that, idk what happened I've been super busy!!!

You hadn’t spoken to Baela the entire way home.

To say you were more than pissed was an understatement. You couldn’t tell if you were more mad at the situation or at your best friend for keeping such monumental information from you. You stormed into your apartment with a plan to shut yourself in your room for the night when Baela stopped you.

“I was told not to tell you.”

You whipped around. “What?”

“Aemond… wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“And how would he have told me?” You had blocked his number and his social media when you left the city, fully shutting him out of your life. She gave a weak smile.“He didn’t say.”

You crossed your arms. 

Baela let out a long breath. “Listen, even if Aemond didn’t ask me not to say anything, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“You're my best friend Baela, I should have been told. What kind of friend are you?”

“One that remembers how fucking destroyed you were when you two broke up. One that remembers you leaving the city, fleeing from everyone all because of a fucking guy.”

“Which is why I should have known!”

“Why!” Her voice rose. “So you can run again?”

“I wasn’t running!”

“Then what the fuck were you doing?”

Escaping.

But you couldn’t say that. You couldn’t say that because it would make everything that happened that night too real. It would make everything and everyone you had shut out all these years pointless.

“I couldn’t deal with another 10 hour train ride,” Baela said after a minute of your silence. “Clearly there is still something you have towards Aemond.”

“Baela-”

“Whether it’s feelings or unresolved shit, I don’t know. Just… maybe seeing him, talking to him, will help you.”

She moved past you to go towards her room. She stopped with her hand on the door. “I’m sorry for the part I played in this, but Aemond asked and-”

“You couldn’t say no.”

She frowned, opening the door to step into her room. “He’s the head of the family now since Otto is in jail. You know whatever is asked goes.”

Your heart dropped. 

Aemond was head of the family?

********

You had an awful night's sleep. You tossed and turned, thinking about what Baela had said. 

Aemond was head of the house, he now ran the family which meant he called all the shots. He finally achieved what he had wanted all those years ago, but how he got there is what plagued you.

Your clock was nearing eight in the morning when your phone chimed. You looked at it seeing a message from an unsaved number, your heart sank as you read the screen.

Heard you're back in town, we need to catch up. - A

The fucking bastard. 

You had half a mind to tell him how caught up you were when you decided against it. You threw your phone on your bed and began getting ready for the day, making your way to the kitchen. You saw a note on the table from Baela, apologizing for last night and how she wanted to talk it over more when she got back from the dinner tonight.

You crumbled the note throwing it in the trash. You had already forgiven her in all honesty, you couldn’t be mad at her for long. Besides you were being too harsh on Baela, after all you hadn’t told her anything from that night. She only knew that you and Aemond weren’t together anymore and that you needed to leave right away. In the end you were taking a lot of your frustrations out on her rather than the real person causing it. But to redirect those feelings meant that you would need to talk to Aemond and that wasn’t going to happen.

Not anytime soon anyway.

You sent Baela a quick text telling her all is forgiven and that you would see her when she got back from the celebration dinner. 

You rummaged through the cabinets trying to find anything to eat but it seems like you’d need to do a grocery run. Thankfully you didn’t start full time at work till next week, your employer understood that you needed to settle into your “new” home. 

At least that's what you had hinted at when they asked when you could start.

You put your shoes on and headed out of the apartment, going to the cafe that was a block away from where you lived. From what you remembered this place had the best chocolate croissants and made the best drinks you’ve ever had.

You had just put in your order, sitting at one of the corner tables, scrolling through your phone as you waited for your name to be called, when the chair across from you screeched.

You looked up meeting the delightful green eyes of Alicent Hightower. 

You nearly choked on your spit.

She smiled cheerily at you. “I heard you were in town.”

You smiled back, putting your phone in your bag. “I just got in yesterday, I was gonna call but-” 

She held her hand up. “Best not to, there are prying eyes and listening ears all around that house I swear.”

You laughed. Alicent Hightower had been like a mother to you when your own mother left. When you had come crying to Aemond freshman year when your family was falling apart, Alicent was the one who wrapped her arms around you and let you stay in the house until you were ready to go back.

You still remember her rage when you had told her about the note your mother left.

She truly was one of the things you missed about the Targaryen family. 

“What are you doing on this side of the city?” Alicent, along with most of her family lived in an estate on the East side of the city that overlooked the canal.

“You know this side makes the best pastries.” She gestured to the boxes by her feet. 

“Georginos is pretty stellar.”

She grinned, reaching across the table to give your hands a squeeze. “And how are you doing?”

You put on a convincing smile. “Great, no problems yet.”

She nodded. “Good to hear. After what Aemond told me, I’m surprised you decided to stick around here.”

Your heart dropped. “What?”

“The rats, dear. I don’t know how you and Baela are able to live in an apartment with rats in it.”

You swallowed your confusion. “A lot of traps.”

“Aemond said he’s heading over later to talk with the exterminator, I’m confident he’ll take care of you.”

You nodded along. “Yup!”

She squeezed your hands again. “I’m so happy that you and him could remain friends all these years, I mean I had half a mind to drag him to Winterfell and make nice.”

You nodded along, hoping your face didn’t show the confusion and anger you felt.

“Anyway, what is your number? I've missed our chats.”

You hastily reached into your bag, wanting the uncomfortableness of this conversation to end. You pulled your phone out and along with it, the invite from Alys.

Alicent’s eyes widened, upon seeing the crumpled invitation. She looked up at you smiling. “I was hoping Aemond would take my advice on inviting you.”

You gave a half hearted laugh, shoving the invite back into your bag.

Could this get any worse? 

“So I take it I'll be seeing you tonight then.” She stooped to pick up the pastry boxes. 

Come fucking on.

“I actually wasn’t planning on attending.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

You stumbled over your words. “I’m Aemond’s ex.”

“But you're part of the family.”

“It wouldn’t look good if I came.”

“And why not? You and Aemond are still best friends, it would be absurd for you not to be there.”

“I just don’t think Alys-”

Alicent snorted. “Screw what Alys thinks, I’m the one paying for the whole damn charade. I might as well get a say in who gets to come.”

Just then your order got called. She grinned pushing in her chair. “Till tonight, dear.” 

You watched her walk out, at a loss for words frozen in your seat.

What the fuck just happened?

********

You had managed to fill Baela in on the phone of what happened in the cafe. Telling her about Aemond’s lies to his mother and the insistence of Alicent that you attended the dinner. Baela was able to stop by after work so that you two could walk in together.

You had just managed to find a dress in the back of your closet that would work for the formal occasion, your boxes from Winterfell still hadn’t come yet, to your dismay. The dress was slick black that had a perfect neckline that accentuated your boobs and yet didn’t do too much to make it seem like you were trying. Baela had described it as ‘tasteful sexy.’When you were looking in the mirror you couldn’t remember for the life of you where you had gotten it but didn’t care as you quickly left for the event.

You were already late and you didn’t want to have to spend anymore than an hour at the dinner. Luckily it was at Federicos, the whole place having been shut down for the special event. 

The restaurant came into view as you walked up the street, you could see Jace, Luce, and Rhaena all standing outside waiting. 

“You ready?” Baela asked. “We can bail out now, Luce can vomit on cue.”

“Tempting but gross,” You responded. You let out a long breath fidgeting with your handbag. “If I don’t show up Alys will be smug, and Alicent will hunt me down.”

“You don’t say no to the family.” She squeezed your hand.

You approached your friends, plastering on a smile that you knew you’d have on all night.

Rhaena hugged you first. “Finally, I’ve been trying to get Baela to let me come over to see you.”

“Yeah, it's been a crazy first day back.”

“Are you ready to go in?” Jace asked.

 “Of course, I’ve been wanting those garlic knots since we left last night.”

You hated faking it for them. You’d rather leave, you’d rather not be here. But maybe this was a fateful way of telling you to face your shit head on. So you took a deep breath as everyone filed inside, squared your shoulders and knew that you would get drunk as shit after this.

For now you picked up a cocktail from the bar with the others and sipped carefully, you needed a clear head for the night. You already spotted Alys making her rounds around the room, but hadn’t noticed Aemond among the crowd. You looked around again seeing Alicent sitting at the corner booth, nursing a glass of wine.

“I’m gonna go make an appearance with Alicent,” you told Baela.

You snaked your way through the crowd, all mostly being people from Alys’s side with a few Targaryens and Hightowers mixed in. A part of you wondered why more of the family hadn’t come but those thoughts were put on the back burner when you took the seat across from Alicent. 

She smiled. “Glad you could make it, love.”

“Glad to have been invited.

She waved you off. “Of course.”

“This place looks amazing, Alys really outdid herself.” You looked around at the black and white monochrome decorations that were dispersed around the restaurant. 

“It’s tacky,” she frowned. “And dull.” 

You chuckled. “You are just as blunt as I remember you.”

She lifted her glass. “Always.”

Her eyes drifted over your shoulder just as you heard a voice say your name. You turned to see a wide eyed Aemond Targaryen standing in all black with an empty whisky glass in his hand and a beer in the other. His hair that was cut short the last time you saw him had grown out and was now tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. He was as handsome as ever and the skip your heart did told you everything you needed to know.

You needed to be strong and you needed to be cold. 

You swallowed the panic that rose and instead raised your glass to him. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

That seemed to knock him out of his stupor as he gave you an easy smile. 

You heard Alicent get up from her seat, rounding to her son. “I can take this to the bar, you two should catch up.”

Aemond let her move past him, taking the empty glass from his hand before he slid into the seat opposite of you. He leaned back like he didn’t have a care in the world, his eyes glazed. “You never answered my text.”

“What text?” You took a sip of your drink.

He smirked, taking a sip of his beer. “You never were a good liar.”

“I blocked your number.”

“I got another number.”

You shook your head, he was still insufferable it seemed. “Seems like a lot of trouble to contact an ex.”

“You’re worth it.”

“You're engaged.” You weren’t going to let him win this. 

He leaned forward putting his forearms on the table as he set the beer down. The veins of his forearms strained slightly. “I was going to tell you when we met up.”

“And how would we have done that?”

“Well if you were going to continue ignoring me it was going to be more of an “accidental” meeting. I think that would have been charming.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re insane.”

“And you are still as beautiful as the day I first saw you.”

“I wonder how Alys would feel about that comment.”

“Alys isn’t here,” he slurred. 

Now that pissed you off. Yes, you hated Alys Rivers but like hell were you going to be treated like some mistress. “You're an asshole, you know that?”

He shrugged, leaning back as he took a swig of his beet. “I don’t understand how I can be the asshole when you're the one wearing a dress that I bought you. That is just insulting to my soon to be bride.”

Your stomach turned. That’s where you knew the dress from. Aemond had gotten it for you on your last anniversary. But if he was going to be an asshole about it, so could you. Strong and cold, that’s what you needed to be. 

You shrugged like he did. “A lot of men have bought me a lot of things over the years, I must have just forgotten.”

Something flickered in his eyes at that, like a fire had suddenly been lit. “You’re lying.”  

“Kinda like how you're lying to your mom about us.”

His face blanched, clearly taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re best friends? You’re helping with the rats in my apartment?”

He regained his composure quicker than you thought. “We are best friends and I did help with the rats.”

“That was the first week we moved in and it was one.”

He waved his hand. “Semantics.”

“We haven’t talked in years and from what your mother tells me it’s like we talk everyday.”

He leaned on the table again“What are you doing here, (y/n).”

“I was invited by your beautiful fiancee and your mother.”

“No, what are you really doing here?”

You ground your teeth. “Your mother invited me. You don’t say no to the family.”

“Except you.”

“What?”

“Everyone else can’t say no but you.”

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You were always the exception, (y/n). Then, now, always.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“I know that if you really didn’t want to come here you wouldn’t have, rules be damned. So why did you really show up here in a dress I bought you for our anniversary?”

You hadn’t realized it but during your exchanging of words his hands and yours had moved closer, your fingertips just touching.

Just then Alys came around the table sitting on Aemond’s lap, he pulled his hands away snaking them around her waist. “We’re doing toasts soon, honey.”

His eye drifted to you, before he looked at Alys. “I’ll be there in a minute, just need to finish this conversation.”

Alys suddenly looked at you, her eyebrows shooting up as she tried to look surprised. “Oh, you came! I gotta say I didn’t think you’d show.”

You looked at Aemond then. “I’m just here for the celebration.”

She smirked. “Well I hope your gift is nice, gods know enough of these people only gave us cash.”

She stood up then, leaning down and giving Aemond a long kiss. You looked at your now empty glass. 

He pulled away first, giving her a weak smile before she darted off back in the crowd. He folded his arms over his chest. “Celebrating Alys and I’s engagement? Seems very mature of you.”

You scoffed. “And how would you like me to react Aemond? Smash all the glasses, destroy the present table, burn the whole place to the ground?

It was his turn to scoff. “Well at least it would be a reaction, instead of this cold whatever.”

“I have been nothing but polite since we started talking.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“Then what are you talking about, Aemond?”

He leaned forward. “You’re shutting me out, putting walls up, being cold.”

“And what’s the problem with that? You were the one who told me to leave, Aemond. Then I come back and you’re trying to act like we’re friends. I don’t know you.”

“You’ll always know me, just like I will always know you.”

“Then how come I look at you and I don’t recognize you.”

“Maybe you don’t want to recognize me.”

“Don’t do that.”

He smirked. “Do what?”

You gestured to him. “Those stupid fucking games - answering my questions with questions, giving stupid fucking philosophical answers.”

He crossed his arms. “And why is that?”

You huffed. “You’re a prick.”

He shrugged. “At least I got some reaction out of you instead of that ice princess bullshit.” His voice went high pitched as he mocked you- “congratulations are in order, beautiful fiancee.”

“Is being nice a crime now in your family?

“No but being a liar and a coward is.”

You rolled your eyes. “Get a grip, Aemond.”

“What’s the real reason you came tonight?”

“I was invited by Alys and your mother, you know how they both can be.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “I think you came here because you were curious, you couldn’t stay away.”

You wanted to laugh. This was such bullshit, what even was happening right now. Was he mad at you cause you weren’t mad? 

“Admit it.” He scooted closer.“I think you wanted to be here tonight to see for yourself if you could get me back.” He was leaning across the table now, his eyes flitting between yours. His voice dropped. “The ring was always yours, she’s just keeping it warm for ya darling.” 

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. He was clearly drunk and now he was being cruel. When you knew him he would never have let himself get to this level of intoxicated and he certainly would never have been so mean to you.

What the fuck happened when you left?

You shook your head, looking away from him.“I’m not here for you, Aemond.”

He arched his brow. “Then why’d you come?”

“To see for myself that everything we had was a lie.”

He leaned back, shaking his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Seeing you tonight like this, with her, I understand now that it wasn’t love we had but convenience.” You started getting up. “I hope you two are very happy together.”

He stared wide eyed, watching as you began pushing through the crowd. “Wait.”

“Goodbye, Aemond. Have a good wedding.” You waved over your shoulder as you walked away from Aemond Targaryen.

Tag List: @dixie-elocin @liannafae @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy @zenka69 @bellaisasleep

[svnnyd4ys]

the seven + nico incorrect quotes lol

Piper: She's the girl of my dreams! Annabeth: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams. Piper: I have a lot of dreams.

!!!

Leo: *watching their house burn down* Leo: Leo: *starts filming* Waddup, guys, welcome to my vlog, today's topic: how to get away with accidentally committing arson because you forgot Spaghetti O's cans are metal and thus non-microwavable! Step one: deny everything.

!!!

Jason, looking at a selfie of Leo’s: I hate this photo. Leo: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly. Jason: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something. Leo: Up to kindness.

!!!

Hazel: Nico, how do you feel about lifting heavy things? Nico: My doctor just said I should avoid— Hazel: Being a wuss? I agree.

!!!

*During a game of Hangman* Piper: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose. Leo: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something! Piper: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

!!!

Jason: Are you guys bringing anything to the party? Nico: Yeah, an empty stomach. Annabeth: My sparkling personality. Percy: A flagrant disregard for common decency. Hazel: ... Hazel: Chips.

!!!

Piper, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Jason: Other side, Piper...

!!!

Percy: You know, Leo, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. Leo: ... Leo: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

!!!

Annabeth: What time is it? Piper: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out Piper: *BLASTS the saxaphone* Nico: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING Piper: It’s 2 in the morning.

!!!

Leo: You’re overthinking this. Hazel: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Leo. What if I’m underthinking?

!!!

Frank: I am an expert at identifying birds. Percy: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Frank: Yeah, they're all birds.

!!!

Percy: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere* Jason: Where did you get that? Percy: My pocket. Jason: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Percy: Skills.

!!!

Frank: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

!!!

Frank: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Jason: Is that… bad? Frank: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Jason: Isn’t that just causality? Frank: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Jason: So what are my odds? Frank: Do you have a family history? Jason: Of what? Frank: Just, in general. Jason: …Yes? Frank: Oh no.

!!!

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups* Leo, Frank, and Jason: *spinning a little and talking* Nico, Annabeth, and Hazel: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

!!!

Percy: My dad drowned at sea when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement. Percy: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

(pre discovering yk his half God-ness)

!!!

Annabeth: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

!!!

Nico: This is a safety pin. *cuts off end* Nico: It is now a danger pin.

!!!

Jason: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason. Jason: Me too!

!!!

Piper, explaining why they are not allowed to cook: I put the noodles in the pot and put the pot on the stove and turned the burner on high. Turns out you don't put noodles in marijuana and I almost burnt the whole house down.

!!!

Hazel: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Hazel: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

!!!

[solarache]

gojo satoru is a book character from your favorite series set in ancient times that accidentally ended up in your (very modern) world, he discovers electricity for the first time and becomes an ipad kid (289-ish words)

"so what does this one do?"

"that's a remote. it controls the television and helps you switch before channels" you explain patiently, watching him furrow his eyebrows

"your world doesn't even have sorcery or magic, how you come up with this stuff is unbelievable" he says, mildly impressed "how do these even work anyway??"

silence.

".......you don't know do you" gojo snickers at your embarrassment as you try to come up with an excuse, and smirks when you give up

"if you wanna know so bad I'll just pull up a YouTube video for you and it'll explain everything"

gojo raises an eyebrow at you, and shrugs "pull it up then"

you're awoken at 4:30 am when gojo starts rapidly shaking you "gojo fucking satoru it is"  — you look at the digital clock on your bedside table  — "half past four in the morning what the fuck do you want"

he stares at you unblinking "I watched all the videos I can find about electricity. show me the history of this entire world next"

"......what?"

"also you should be nicer to me! just because I'm not from this world and barely have my powers anymore doesn't mean I can't kill you"

"I'm getting a priest I can't do this shit anymore" you get up reluctantly and grumble, holding out your hand in the air as gojo states at it confusedly

"why are you giving me your hand"

"give me my damn iPad back so I can type it"

"oh!" he perks up and watches in excitement as you type out the words to spell 'History of the Entire World' in YouTube, purposely picking the longest one

"now don't make a peep and let me sleep"

"yes ma'am!"

[teenwolf-theoriginals]

Sitting on top of the kitchen counter, Carmen drummed his fingertips along his palm to the rhythm of constant thoughts. His pace quickened at the thought of the restaurant being four weeks away from opening, and yet, they still weren’t fucking ready. It slowed when he thought of last night with you, the first time in months he had gotten a decent sleep. Then it quickened once more when his mind circled back to the never-ending list of shit that needed to be done throughout the week. Before finally, slowing down to a steady tempo when he exhaled, bringing his thoughts back around to you. It calmed him. You calmed him. Yet, everything about that terrified the hell out of him. Simply because anything considered good, Carmen tended to self-sabotage. He did it at the family barbecue, getting an ear full from Suga when you had explained why you were leaving early. He said some shit, you said some shit back until Carmen played the "You deserve better than me" card. You listened and vented to Suga who then proceeded to tell Carmen how much of an asshole he was, leading him to sulk throughout the barbecue debating with himself whether he should call and apologize. He called that night, silence greeting him on the other line. He left a voicemail apologizing, and one year later he finally saw you again, standing in his shamble of a restaurant. The first word out of his mouth had been a low whisper of “Fuck”. But the good kind. The kind where the surprise was pleasant and a welcome breath of fresh, calming air after the mind fuck of the day.

Now, one month later, it felt as if the barbecue fallout never occurred and the two of you hadn't lost those 365 days. He had come home to you standing by the stove, the very place Carmen’s eyes had been staring at for the past 10 minutes. Remembering you in one of his white shirts after accidentally spilling wine on your black sweater top. He smiled when the memory of a faint blush radiated off your cheeks in the middle of you rambling on and on about how you weren’t sure if he would be okay with you borrowing his shirt. He kissed you mid-sentence, mixing the taste of white wine and cigarettes, leading to dinner being forgotten.

"Carm?". He looked up, softly smiling when he saw you walk around the corner. His white shirt looking so much better on you. "You okay?". 

He nodded, frowning his brow soon after. "I'm-I'm not entirely sure. Last night was...it was amazing, you know?".

"I do, I was there". You cheekily replied, smiling at him.

Carmen smiled back, starching his cheek before playing with your hand. Rubbing it, tracing up and down your fingers, just feeling your soft skin against his callous hands. "But I-I woke up this morning and I, I don't know, I had this thought that scared the shit out of me. And my mind, it er...it kept going back to the barbecue".

"That wasn't our best moment". You whispered, remembering that afternoon as if it happened yesterday. Richie had just started on the grill, the others enjoying the sunshine and drinks while you and Carmen were in Suga's kitchen. In two minutes it went from smiling and stealing kisses to watching Carmen's face drop as he chopped the tomatoes. Yelling followed shortly after as the two of you debated in circles about the relationship. Out of the blue, no warning, that was Carmen. A winter blizzard or the warm sun gliding across your skin, there was no in-between with him. It was either no emotion or an overload of emotion.

"It wasn't my best moment. And I'm sorry that I was such an asshole".

"You don't need to apologize again, Carmy. I heard your voicemail".

"You did?"

Stepping a little closer, you nodded. "I should have called you back, or at least texted, but I-".

"You didn't owe me anything, alright. I was the one who messed up. That is why I'm so fucking nervous about messing it up this time".

Brushing his hair away, Carmen closed his eyes for half-second to relax in your touch. "What if I'm the one who fucks it up?". You whispered.

"Not possible. It'll be me. And I don't want to, you know? I, um, I'm trying very hard to be present. To focus on you when you need me. But sometimes I feel-".

"Overwhelmed?".

"So overwhelmed". He exhaled as he rubbed his thumb across your palm.

"We're both going to mess up. Make mistakes, say the wrong thing. Get frustrated at the other for not listening, for not paying attention. But I won't give up trying to make this work. Because I really want this to work".

"I want this to work too".

"Then we'll find ways to make it work, Carm". You reassured him.

"Even when I'm being a piece of shit?".

"Especially when you're being a piece of shit".

Smiling at each other, Carmen ran his thumb gently across your cheek. "I really like that you're here".

"Me too". You replied, adding. "Is there anything else you're thinking about?"

"I'm thinking you're very, very beautiful". He confessed, leaning in to kiss you. Like dinner, breakfast was forgotten. And for worse or for better, you and Carmen were determined to take this second chance and build it all back up again.

[eddiessluttywaist]

angsty ending (as if)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: sad ending to part three of as if 💔

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 812 words

content/warnings: swearing, mentions of smutty content MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), teasing, angst :(((, rejection, grudges. i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: eddie’s actually the worst i’m so sorry. it’s arguably a really basic ending tbh but to me it’s so heartbreaking idk about y’all.

part one - part two - start of part three - surprise part four based on this ending

*

Eddie never did work up the nerve to properly ask you what you meant by that blunt reply that one Autumn day. And he really should have rather than let it fester like some sort of black mold in every dark corner of his mind. It made him grow bitter again. He stayed as sweet as he could to keep you wrapped around his finger, but he was really starting to hate you for that day. He hated that you had made him so sweet—even for a moment. He hated that he couldn’t have just simply hated you and bully you only to make you miserable. He hated that deep down he was sure that you only grew to like the excitement of how wrong this all was. After all truly being with him…? As if, right?

You’d grow bored of him by your first semester of college, finding yourself all cozied up to some fucking tool in pre-med or some shit like that. He had to hurt you the way you had hurt him that day in ‘83. He had to hurt you the way he was so sure you’ll hurt him once you realize you want a normal, boring relationship. He thought about it every time you made him smile or his heart ache or his stomach clench—just so angry that he was inevitably temporary to you. A phase in your perfect little world filled with loving parents and white picket fences and your pick of colleges to choose from.

So he fucked everything up. He couldn’t help himself when you presented the opportunity so perfectly. You were half naked in your cutesy bed, all laid out after spending hours fucking off and on. It was a muggy, rainy day and those were the days you felt so domestic with him. Like you were having sex on a calm, Sunday morning in a home you shared while the rain pit-pattered against the windows. So maybe it got to your head, maybe you were actually sincere. Either way, you looked over at him as he smoked over by that window you never locked anymore. (He really wasn’t supposed to be smoking in your room, but at least you got him to stay by the window whenever he did).

“Eddie?” You ask in a soft voice. His head tilts and he looks at you expectantly with a lazy raise of his brows.

“I think I love you…”

Think. Why was that the part he was focusing on? He kept his face neutral and you could hear the crackling end of his cigarette burning as he breathed in. You toyed with your comforter with anxious hands.

“Do… do you love me…?”

It was something you had been thinking about for a while. Something you had wanted to admit for a while. All the time you two spent together was likely more about lust for him than anything else, but you had to tell him how you felt. You needed to see if there was more potential to this than sneaking around. You had been brooding over it for the past few weeks as you started to really consider telling him—actually having had a few failed attempts up your sleeve by now. You felt nauseous when you thought about him not feeling the same way. You tried to keep a rein on your expectations (especially considering this was Eddie you were admitting this to), but sometimes they got away from you. Sometimes you imagined a world where he had also been secretly holding onto a love of his own for you. He had certainly become gentler with you. Kinder, even, so who says he couldn’t love you back? You feared you had let yourself sink into the sunshine and rainbows side of what could be, rather than what was arguably the more realistic side. The one where he laughed off your feelings like it wouldn’t grip onto your lungs and form a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. The one where you wind up all alone, wondering how you could have become so delusional along the way.

Eddie let out a partial snort despite that fiery grip on his heart, looking down at that small hole in the bottom of his boxers then looked over at you—taking you all in before your expression crumbled from four simple, cruel words. Before you try to laugh it off and say Eddie, I’m being serious (you had hoped his smirk at his own response was a sign of playfulness rather than smug maliciousness). Before he shrugs you off to flick his cigarette outside to fizzle out in the rain. Before leaving you all alone with a whiplash that you feared you gave yourself by driving too fast towards the sunshine and rainbows with someone who really never would’ve let you get too far.

“Love you? As if.”

[obsessedasusual]

Lonely No More - Eight

Bishop Losa x OC Series

Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.

Warnings: swearing, feels, everything MC related really

Note: -2k hellloooooo!!!! When I tell you I have had the first half of this written since my last bloody upload I’m not kidding🫣🫣 I won’t try to defend myself, I’ll just leave this for you to chew on byeeeeee

It had been four days since the incident, as Amalia was now calling it.

Four days and she hadn’t heard from Bishop. She hadn’t been running past his house as usual, she had however heard a Harley ride past each morning and night. It seemed Bishop wasn’t swaying from his usual route to the club, just deciding to not stop in.

No texting, no calling, no notes.

Radio silence.

She had also been avoiding her brothers, which wasn’t hard. Angel had tried to call her once which she had ignored, instead flicking a text his way saying, sorry busy with work, will call you back, she hadn’t, and he hadn’t tried again.

She even turned the other way when she almost ran into Gilly at the grocery store the day prior. Instead pushing her cart down the aisle of baby bottles and nappies. She was sure she’d successfully dodged him and he hadn’t seen her. He had, but figured she wasn’t in the mood to talk and let her be.

Her mind was stuck on that night, replaying it over and over. It was obviously a mistake. Had to have been. There was no way he had meant to kiss her.

Her friend Zoe had been let in on the secret when she came knocking, worried about her best friend’s sudden dazed mood. Well… Zoe had been let in on how she had made out with a guy and it was great, amazing, fantastic but it was bad, terrible, never should have happened. The fact that the ‘guy’ was a slightly older President of a fucking outlaw club was conveniently left out.

“You can’t be this torn up over a kiss and not give me any details!” Zoe had pouted over a cup of coffee.

Amalia paced the length of her dining table, hands on her forehead in frustration, “it’s not the kiss that’s the issue! Well, okay it’s kind of the kiss but it’s more to do with who the kiss was with!”

“Which was who?”

“I… I can’t say,” Amalia sighed, “it was just with someone it really shouldn’t have been with and now he won’t talk to me and I don’t know what this means or what happens from here. Do I just ignore it too? What if I see him around? I mean, I’m definitely gonna see him around this town is only so big-“

“So he’s a local?”

“And if my brothers ever found out Jesus Christ they would have my head on a platter. They’d kill me! They would actually kill me. They’d never speak to me again-“

“I’m sure they’d be okay with it-“

“Ha! Okay with it? You don’t know my brothers, they’d hit the roof. Angel especially, oh shit Angel-“

“Okay! A! You need to stop and take a breather, seriously. Just talk to me. We can talk it out and work out what to do.” Zoe stood from her seat, gently touching Amalia’s arm and steering her toward a chair.

“Take a breath. Okay, why is this freaking you out so much?”

Amalia looked from her friend to the ground, “I shouldn’t be involved with him.”

“Could you tell me why? If you like him and he likes you-“

“He doesn’t like me, Zo,” she interrupted, mumbling slightly, “It was just a caught in the moment sort of thing. And, even if he did. We couldn’t be involved.”

Zoe sighed, “You’ve said that, but why?”

“It’s… complicated.” The Reyes sister was right. It was complicated.

“Is he a friend of Angel’s?” If she wasn’t going to give straight answers, Zoe was going to start guessing.

Instead of answering, Amalia hesitated before nodding slowly. A friend… kind of. His boss. His President.

“You said he wouldn’t talk to you, have you tried calling him?” Zoe suggested causing Amalia to look down and shake her head.

Zoe continued, “Maybe you should? A simple phone call and this could all be fixed.”

Amalia rested her forehead against her clasped hands and sighed heavily, barely listening to her friend.

“It’ll get sorted out, A. It’ll be okay.”

Four days on, and it still had yet to be “sorted out”.

Had she tried to call him?

No.

Had he tried to call her?

Also no.

That shouldn’t have been cause for concern. Afterall, they’d had many days go by without a phone call before. But that was before. Before everything turned to shit in Amalia’s mind.

Her mind decided to torture her each night when she attempted to get a full night’s rest, teasing her with made up images of Bishop with another woman on his lap at a club party. Quite happily lapping up the attention.

She was sure that wasn’t the case, and even if it was, so what? He could do as he wanted. He was a single man. He could hook up with whoever he wanted. So why did the thought fill the brunette with so much dread?

Another sleepless night eventually led to morning and Amalia dragged herself out of bed, begrudgingly threw on an office appropriate outfit, washed her face and took a deep breath to ready herself for another day of seemingly meaningless work.

The day passed slowly. Send an email, answer a call, read an email, stare blankly at a report that was due tomorrow, wonder why James from sales insisted on hitting ‘reply all’ on an all company email for his reply of:

Thanks,

James.

Her mind numbing train of thought was gratefully interrupted by the short vibration of her phone, the contact on screen reading, Angel

Heads up if you see pop, he’s in a pissy mood.

Relevant enough to not be suspicious, but Amalia knew her brother well enough to know this was an attempt to break the wall of silence she had put between them.

Same with Ez.

Came a second text. Amalia typed out her reply.

Any particular reason?

Dunno. Come to the club later.

Amalia internally groaned. The freaking club. Why couldn’t he suggest his place like a normal brother?

Not in much of a party mood.

Chill. I meant to talk to your little brother.

Oh. Well, stopping by EZ’s trailer was out of the way of the club.. kind of. She could probably be in and out without raising the attention of the President. And if her brother needed her, that had to take priority, right?

Fine. Be there after work.

-

Amalia’s stomach was in knots as she drew closer to the club.

‘Sneak in, sneak out, you’ll be fine.’ She kept reminding herself.

If she saw Bishop she had a plan; hold her head high and carry on like the mature adult she was.

Putting her car in park, she gripped her steering wheel and drew a deep breath.

Get out of the car, she thought to herself, get out and beeline for the trailer.

She did just that.

Walking as light on her feet as she could without looking like she was guilty of something to draw as little attention as possible, she kept her head down and made her play straight for the trailer.

Chucky spotted her from the office window and waved out excitedly, she waved back, but apart from the likeable oddball, it seemed there was no one else around.

Good.

It was quiet around EZ’s trailer, as it usually is. Amalia hoped it meant he was tucked up inside minding his own business and not with the guys in the clubhouse.

“EZ!” She called as she approached the door, tapping twice, “You in here?”

She could hear a rustling coming from inside along with a muffled, “Just a sec!”

More rustling followed before finally the small door swung open to reveal the smiling younger brother.

“Hey, A. What’s up?” EZ leaned out the door but didn’t make any move to actually remove himself from his trailer, resulting in him towering over his sister - more than usual.

She gave him a little smile and shrugged, “Just hadn’t seen you around for a bit. Thought I’d check in.”

If EZ wanted to call bullshit he didn’t, instead playfully rolling his eyes, “I’m good, A. Nothing new to report here.”

Amalia knew her brother well enough to know he was lying. But she also knew she couldn’t push him too much, he was like Angel in that way.

She nodded, “Okay well… do you wanna go grab a coffee or something? I could do with a little outing.”

That wasn’t a lie, she could really do with the distraction.

She registered footsteps approaching from behind as EZ replied, “Uh, nah I’m good. Sorry just…” he shrugged, “kinda caught up with something at the moment.”

His smile was forced this time, eyes shooting between her and Angel who had just graced them with his presence. She didn’t acknowledge the oldest brother, attention still on EZ.

“You sure you’re good, EZ?”

Angel piped up, “I heard coffee. I’m down. Be good for some… sibling bonding or some shit.”

Clearly beginning to feel like he was being interrogated, the youngest Reyes pursed his lips and looked between his two siblings.

“What is this?” He started, glaring between them, “Some kind of intervention? You two gossiping about me now?”

While Amalia prepared to defend herself, Angel just shrugged and spoke first, “You’ve been acting weird lately. Pissed all the time. Same with pop. We’re just wondering what’s going on.”

“There’s nothing going on,” EZ stressed, “God you two need your own lives. Honestly, I’m good. Now if you don’t mind…” he gestured to the trailer, “I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Wait, EZ-“ Amalia was cut off by the door swinging closed, taking her younger brother with it. She turned to Angel, “What was that?”

Angel shrugged and looked at the trailer, “He’s been like that for a few days. Doesn’t say much to me.”

Since their mother’s passing, Amalia had tried really hard not to step into the ‘overbearing mother figure’ role. It wasn’t her job. And her brothers were both adults, she couldn’t expect them to tell her every detail about their lives. But in situations like this, when she could clearly see something wasn’t right, the urge to dig grew stronger.

Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Angel nudged her and they began walking back to her car, Amalia noted they were absentmindedly taking the long way, close to the clubhouse.

“Do you think it’s club shit?” She questioned, clocking Angel shaking his head in her peripheral.

“Nah. Things are decent at the moment. I think it���s gotta be something to do with him and Pop.”

Amalia sighed, “And like always, we’re the last to hear about it.”

“Yup.”

While they continued their slow walk toward her car, Amalia could feel eyes on her from afar. Turning her head slightly she found her gaze locked with that of the Mayan President. Gee what a surprise.

She quickly reverted her gaze and let it drop to the ground in front of her. Angel came to a stop and leant against an old fence, Amalia following suit.

“What about you?” Angel questioned. She look at her brother confused before he continued, “Are you okay? Didn’t hear from you for a while. Not like you.”

Amalia took a deep breath and looked around the yard, catching Bishop’s eye again. Neither moved their gaze this time, locked in a staring battle that the Reyes sister was sure to lose, “I’m okay, Angel. Just had some work shit going on. Forgot what a work/life balance was for a second.”

She broke her stare with the President and turned to give her brother a small smile, “I am good, Angel. Promise.”

Liar.

Angel nodded, accepting her answer, “Good. I can’t deal with two fucked up siblings.”

She let out a snort, “Welcome to my life, ‘mano.”

He pushed her and began to walk away, calling over his shoulder, “I’m coming for food this week.”

“Only if you use your manners!” She retorted, laughing when he raised his middle finger in farewell.

Her eyes darted the yard once more, again locking with Bishop’s from the porch. Man had a real staring problem apparently.

So he can openly stare at me but can’t send a girl a text?

Again being the first to break eye contact she quickly turned and headed for her car, readying herself to once again hide away and overthink what Bishop’s staring could mean.

[charleslee-valentine]

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks Event Day 6: Music is my Life

Ship(s): Radiohead/Vietnita/Brocktop (Chop Top x Stretch)

Word Count: ~1,800

Warnings: Alcohol use, hangovers, abuse mention, mild sexual content.

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

________

It wasn’t intentional.

Bobby was supposed to be out and back before anybody even noticed he was gone. To just grab a couple drinks and then get the hell out. Easy.

Now, nobody else knew that plan, so did it matter that much when two beers turned to three, then three to four? Probably not. He wasn’t far from home and hadn’t driven anyways. He could be there in time still.

Except he didn’t walk his goofy ass home. He woke up in a pretty girls bed.

She greeted him with a soft, close-lipped smile, “Morning. Didn’t think you’d be up before the afternoon.”

A groan slips past his lips. His head is fucked. Bobby tries to sit up and then lays right back down, rubbing at blurry eyes, “Time?”

“‘Leven thirty. You got somewhere to be, I’ll drive you.” She informs him, sitting on the side of the bed. Her bed.

Bobby should tell her he’s got to get home. But he’s barely awake, and barely able to remember what happened last night either. Speech isn’t coming to him.

He just shakes his head ‘no’.

“Your head still hurtin’ you?” The woman observes, when he nods again producing a little pain-pill bottle from somewhere, maybe the night stand, and giving it to him, “Here. Don’t leave it on an empty stomach. I can make you breakfast too.”

Really, he appreciates the offer. There’s no way in hell he’d lie and say he doesn’t like the attention from this gorgeous lady. But, one thought creeps up in his head and he has to ask, wondering if maybe she’s one of those women that take advantage that his big brother warned him about. After all, she doesn’t seem to be affected by last night in the least.

Maybe she was sober while he wasn’t.

“A-Aren’t you hungover t-too?”

“Sugar, I do that every night. If I still got as fucked up as you, I’d’ve been kicked out by now. My drunk lasts a lot less than yours.” She informs him, kind but a little humored.

That’s when Bobby remembers some. Pretty girl is the disc jockey from the bar. Stretch is her work name. Vanita is her real one. Even that part of her is beautiful.

Okay, so he might be a little pussy whooped, but he can’t help it. She played good music. Actual rock and not the radio approved shit. Alcohol in his system meant he was probably rambling about all the artists and such for hours last night, and she’d done nothing but listen contentedly. And then kiss him.

It was really pretty fun, dancing all night, sharing drinks and cool facts and kisses. Nothing like the other quick hookups he’d had in bathroom stalls and seedy motels. The kinds where they wouldn’t look him in the face or kiss him after they got their rocks off.

Those times had been better than being lonely, but not being hat he wanted. Nothing like miss Vanita.

Even now, she could kick him out. Instead of sitting here close and brushing stray hairs off his face, she could be dragging him out the door.

Not that he even should be still here. He’s a long several hours overdue to be back home. They’ll have noticed by now he ain’t there.

He looks her in her eyes, half squinting from the stubborn headache, “I-I kinda lied. M-My brothers’ll be look-lookin’ for me.”

Stretch seems understanding, putting her sweet hand in his hair like she’d done the night before and makin’ him blush like some kinda idiot, “I can take you home, hon. Promise it won’t bother me none to do it.”

“I-I don’ wanna.” Bobby doesn’t know why he’s honest. Like he’s her puppy or something.

“Mm. I hear ya.” Stretch can sense the sadness in him, the part of the truth that isn’t being told. She just misunderstands it’s meaning a little, “Bobby, are you sure you got somewhere to go? You can tell me the truth.”

“Huh? O-Oh yeah. M-My brother o-o-own’s a real big farm house. We all l-live there. All-“ He counts his siblings on his fingers, including his Sissy even though she doesn’t come home often, “Five of us.”

That doesn’t fully answer her question though. Stretch asks him slowly, “And you’re safe there?”

“S-Sure. Drayton says..says I-I’m in my r-rebellion phase.”

All he means by that is that he’s on a slightly longer leash than he used to be, not getting beat up the same as he used to either. Safe enough. He might get smacked around a little for coming home so late, but it’s nothing miss Stretch outta worry her little self about.

She sure looks like she’s worrying though, with her eyebrows all shot up high on her forehead, “Mister, you told me you were 30 something.”

“Yeh. I-I am.” Bobby tells her bluntly, even though his stutter makes him sound less sure.

“Alright then.” She relaxes quick, looking at him in this infatuated way, the kinda look nobody ever gave him before. A light laugh bounces her strong-frame shoulders, “You are a mystery, Robert Sawyer.”

It sounds nice, but he wants to be sure she isn’t trying to pull one over on him. “I-In a good way?”

“The best.” She promises.

“Cool. Gr-Groovy.” Without the whiskey and beer, he ain’t exactly some Romeo. He feels awkward and dumb, so he tries to make up for it, “Hey, c-can I kiss you?”

Stretch hums with tiniest play of a smirk on her face, “Honey, you done a lot more than that.”

Oh she knows just how to make him blush. It’s nice having someone who challenges him back.

He smiles really genuinely, even though he’s been told his overbite is gross looking, he hopes she won’t mind, “I-It’s polite to ask.”

She must like his smile.

“Then yes, baby. Anytime you like.”

Stretch even initiates the kiss, already holding him in her arms, only taking a little effort to lean in and connect their lips. Everything about her is gentle, but not her kisses. Those are hungry. Fierce.

Dominant.

Bobby makes some kind of a noise like a whimper and a mewl combined. It makes Stretch laugh softly.

Flushed as pink as a peach, he pulls away a little, for the sake of catching his breath as much as to get his bearings back, “Wh-What’s funny?”

Her soft hands never leave his face, “You just weren’t this shy last night, baby. Don’t worry though; I like my boys a little soft.”

Soft isn’t really a word he’s been called before. Or even been allowed to be. In his head, soft translates into pansy ass. To sorry excuse for a brother.

He knows his face must light up like a puppy dog when she says that. Every instinct in his body screams to kiss on her, so he does. Not that he’s usually one to deny things like that, but it seems especially right, being here with this special girl.

He lungs and kisses all over her face. Any inch of skin he can reach gets a smooch.

She’s howling with laughter by the time she gently pushes him off, “Calm down now, mister!”

But he doesn’t want to go far away from uer. The contact and the pressure and the warmth are too nice. He leans on her while his hands get tappy and a couple little noises squeak past his attempts to stop them. That happens when he gets happy. Stretch might have to get used to that.

She doesn’t seem off put at a glance. If anything, the look in her eyes is kinda fond. Loving.

Her fingers card through his long hair again, careful not to catch on any tangles, “You and me gonna party ‘gain soon, sweet thing?”

Bobby shrugs, “M-Maybe once I’m ungrounded. I-I’m gonna be in biiiiig trouble.”

“Even if I come back with ya and explain?” Stretch offers.

That makes him feel silly. People don’t really think it’s normal, him being old as he is and still being pushed around by his big brother. Living with him ‘stead of on his own.

They think that it makes him either some drooling idiot, or a spineless pushover. Like he’s just supposed to walk away from the man that raised him, and his other two brothers that need the extra help. The man feeds him for thirty years, takes care of his brothers and helps with his medicine, and that’s supposed to mean nothing?

Thankfully, Stretch ain’t most people though.

Bobby looks at her all wide eyed, “Y-You’d do that f-for me?”

She sounds real genuine as she explains her reasoning, knowing he needs to heard it to believe it, “Sure, hon. I get it, you been gone all night, but it’s better’n both of our drunk asses winding up in a ditch somewhere. They’ll understand that.”

He nods, and wraps his arms right around her, determined to look in her eyes while he declares, “I-I won’t let ‘em be mean t-to ya. Y-You’re my girl, miss Stretch.”

It was mostly a success. His eyes do that blinky twitchy thing they do, which has always annoyed him, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.

For once, she’s the one between them that blushes “Am I now?”

“Y-Yeah. My..My fave.” He promises, hoping she understands what a high compliment that truly is.

But then she says something that surprises him. “Ain’t always you get to meet the folks this early. That’s gotta be a new record.. Hope I’m not comin’ off too desperate on you.”

As if. Not when Bobby’s around, he thinks. His middle name might as well be desperate (He actually doesn’t officially have one on paper.) It’s awful weird having someone who doesn’t just automatically point out that he’s annoying or blame him for everything. Stretch really thinks she could be too much?

“N-No way. Y-You and me, we c-could be s-soulmates o-or somethin’.” To prove it to her, he belts a line from a Van Morrison song about love, “I'm run into to her like a river strong-“

Music gets to a girl like her. One who knows allll about it from her nights dj-ing at the club. She interrupts him with a kiss.

Strong as all the other ones with even more tongue. There’s intention behind it, a silent but perfectly clear question. An offer to do a repeat of last night, but sober. Bobby gives her some little sounds as confirmation. Moaning little whines.

All the confirmation she needs.

Stretch throws her leg around his waist, using the added leverage to pin Bobby to the mattress and straddle his waist.

Somehow they stayed connected through all that, but she breaks the kiss to ask him, panting, “How much longer b‘fore you hafta go?”

“A-A little while more w-wouldn’t hurt nobody…” He confirms.

It’s true enough. Might get him hurt, but he’s more’n used to that.

Something tells him he ain’t never gonna get used to the feeling of a pretty girl on top of him this way. So he’s sure as hell gonna revel in it.

[orions-choker]

+:★:+* Chapter Three: Jump In The Fire +:★:+*

The MetalliMansion was a shit show, no matter how much Y/N attempted to keep it clean it was always riddled with empty beer cans, cigarette butts and an unfortunate amount of playboy magazines. The only reprieve Y/N had was in her own room. Clean and organized, posters and collectibles in neat displays.

“God you guys are fucking disgusting.” She groaned, stepping over spilt beer in the kitchen as she rummaged in the cupboards for cereal. “Clean up after yourselves you pigs.” Her nose crinkled in disgust.

From the couch Lars called out. “Dont like it find your own fuckin’ place, I still don't remember agreeing to let you live here.” There was no malice in his words. Infact as Y/N peaked her head around the corner to glare at him he smiled brightly back at her.

She flipped him off, sticking her tongue out. “That's why you're my least favorite.” She teased. Bowl of cereal in hand she sat beside Lars on the old couch, stretching her legs across him. “Remote.” She mumbled around a mouthful of her food, hand outstretched.

“Do they not teach you manners here in America, fuck.” He placed the remote in her hand anyways. She dug her heels into his legs in retaliation. Grinning at the way he winced. “Bitch.”

The television changed to cartoons, Mighty Mouse. “You fuckin’ love me shut up.” She smiled at him. When she didn't hear him protest she took it as a victory. Lars fell back asleep shortly after that, never one to be up early anyways.

Behind her she could hear the groggy mumblings of her brother and Cliff. “Morning!” She called out cheerily. The responses she got back were less than enthused. “You guys have a flight to catch in the afternoon don't you? Get your shit together.”

The boys were flying out to Denmark to record their next album. It frightened her to be alone now. She had been with everyone for a year now, ever since their first tour she hadn't left their sides. She couldn't go with them this time. Someone had to stay behind and take care of the house, pay the bills.

“Flights not till four.” James grumbled at his younger sister, sitting down with a coffee in hand.

“And it is currently one, airports an hour away dude.” She pushed his head to the side affectionately. “I work in an hour so i'm not gonna see you guys off.” She frowned.

Kirk stumbled into the living room next, his hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, glasses crooked on his face. Y/N stood up with her empty bowl and straightened the eyeware on his face before walking past him to the kitchen. “You're not gonna be there?” Kirk mumbled at her, sleep and disappointment laced in his voice.

Y/N shook her head. “Sorry Kirky, it's Sunday, happy hour starts early at the bar today for all the old people.” She sighed. She didn't want to miss seeing them leave either. Knowing she would come home to an empty house after her shift made her feel empty. “I'll miss you though, all of you.”

Cliff's presence was beside her, pulling her into a warm half hug. “Just a month, we'll be back before you know it.” He comforted her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before moving to grab his own cup of coffee. It brought a smile to her face again.

She had gained two extra brothers, Cliff and Lars. As much as the latter pissed her off she loved him all the same. She made a point to not include Kirk in her affections the same way, the desire that burned beneath her skin when she saw him wouldn't allow her.

“A month of peace might actually be nice.” She grinned, she didn't mean it and they knew that.

“A month without your best friend? Sounds lame.” Kirk's voice was still heavy with sleep, his voice just slightly deeper though still tinged with that same boyishness she was used to. “Who's gonna watch Evil Dead with you repeatedly?”

Best friend, she wasn’t sure when that title came into effect. She wasn’t completely upset about it, though some part of her ached everytime Kirk called her that. Y/N had made her peace with the desperation she felt to be more than just his friend. But it was true all the same he had become her best friend, not that there was any competition.

Her eyes glinted with something wicked. “Hmm doesn't really matter, I can always find someone else.” She shrugged nonchalantly, reveling in the faux hurt on Kirk’s face. “Be right back!” She giggled, quickly running up the stairs before Kirk shook the sleep from himself and chased her.

She had started working at the bar just down the road as soon as they got back from tour. She found it ironic, the way she was unable to drink alcohol at her age, but be a waitress and serve it? That was totally fine. Halfheartedly she got ready for work, her hair was growing out now, finally long enough to pull back into a ponytail without loose strands. She pushed her bangs from her face and did minimal makeup. She found she got better tips from creepy old men when her face looked ‘fresh’. Her uniform was nothing more than a black collared shirt and matching pencil skirt. She didn’t think it did much for her in terms of looks but the eyes on her said otherwise.

Skipping down the stairs two at a time, Y/N grabbed her purse hanging by the door. The boys all sat in the living room, more alert and more dressed. She smiled fondly at the sight of all of them. “I have to get going now, you guys are going to call me tonight when you make it to where you're staying right?” She asked stepping forward to give them each a hug.

She lingered the longest on her brother and Kirk before pulling away. “Yeah of course.” James assured her with a smile. “Aaaand we will call you at least twice a week, blah blah.” He made fun of her worries.

“God forbid I care about you fucks and don’t want you like dying when your like a million miles away.” Her top lip curled into a snarl as she kicked at James’s leg.

“So it would be okay if we died here?” Kirk asked, provoking further.

“Yes because then at least I could kick the shit out of your guy’s bodies for being fucking idiots.” She growled and lunged to attack him next.

Kirk quickly sidestepped her attempt with a laugh, reaching to pull her into another bear hug and trapping her arms beside her. “Don’t worry I could never die and leave you alone.” He whispered into her ear, low enough that no one else could hear. It sent goosebumps down her skin, her body stiffening in his hold before she quickly pulled herself away.

With a groan she gave her final goodbye. “Ugh I hate you guys, be safe.” The door closed behind her as she stepped into the slightly cooler California winter, nowhere near cold enough to bother with a jacket. The walk to her work was a short one, part of the reason she applied there in the first place.

The bar was old, run down, certainly not a hot spot for nightlife activity. Most of the patrons were older folk, making it easy not to deal with young drunk assholes, and she made great tips from old men with lingering eyes. She liked Sundays. It was an early start and dead at night, meaning she got cut quickly and could go home early.

“Hey Y/N.” From behind the bar a young woman greeted her, punctuating her sentence with a pop from her lips as she smacked gum between her teeth. Steph was a couple years older than her, just 21 and the bartender at her work. She was cute, tall and lean, long black hair and pretty dark eyes. She was a favorite for people to look at, including Y/N. Despite her interests in a certain curly haired guitarist Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed to find out Steph had a boyfriend.

Y/N smiled brightly, excited to see they were working the shift together today. “Hey Steph! How’s it been today?” She asked sweetly, sliding behind the bar to set her stuff down and relax for a moment.

“Oh the usual, we’ve had two customers all day but we should get a rush here in a second.” She waved her well manicured hand, dismissing the small talk. “So your brother is in that band Metallica? Right?” She asked, a surprising amount of intrigue in her voice.

Confused Y/N nodded. As far as she was aware Steph really only listened to music like Bauhaus and The Cure. “Oh James? Yeah he is.” Y/N tied her apron tight around her waist. “Why? Have a sudden interest in thrash metal?” She joked.

Steph shook her head with a giggle “Oh god no, thank you.” Her face scrunched up in playful disgust. They might not share the same music taste but the two girls had become fast buddies at work. “My boyfriend is though! and I heard him talking about them the other day, said they were probably gonna get really big here soon and I remembered you mentioning your brother.” She explained.

Y/N’s heart swelled with pride. She knew the band was great of course, but she may or may not have been a bit biased. Hearing of the boy's success and more people talking about them excited her. She nodded, a blush coming to her cheeks. “Yeah they kick ass, glad your boyfriend thinks so too.” She grabbed her notepad and pen, tucking it into her pocket.

She felt as if she was on air the rest of the evening, floating from table to table as she served her regulars. Just as she had hoped she had been sent home around Seven, a couple hours earlier than she had been scheduled for. Making more than enough tips she was eager to leave.

The walk home was interrupted by a quick stop to the gas station across the street from her work. Grabbing a slush and a bag of mixed candy, she was set for the evening now. The walk home was slightly more chilled with the mixture of sweet ice on her lips. The sweets did little to ease the empty ache in her heart as she returned home to silence. The boys did their best to clean up after themselves and it brought a smile to her face.

The couch felt too big and empty as she lay across it alone, flipping the channel to a random network that was playing back to back B-Rate horror films. She assumed they should be landing soon, it was a ten hour flight. She would wait to go to bed until she got their call.

It was about halfway into the second movie she was watching when the worn out phone on the side table rang. Y/N smashed her knees on the ground, tumbling from the couch and crawling toward the phone. She was out of breath, voice laced with excitement as she picked up the call.

“Hello!”

“Hey Princess.” the groggy voice of her older brother came crackling through the phone. “We made it safe.”

Y/N sighed in relief. “Oh good, you made it to a hotel?” She asked balancing the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

There was an annoyed grunt over the phone. “No, were sleeping at the fucking studio on the floor, lars the prick is staying with family and wouldn't let us tag along.” James was tired and pissed, Y/N didn't want to press the issue any further, she didn't have to when she heard a familiar voice muffled in the background.

“Let me talk to her, move.” Kirk sounded more energetic than her brother as he overtook the phone. “Dont worry about us though Y/N, we'll be fine.” He instantly reassured her. It brought a dumb smile to her face knowing how well he knew her.

“Thanks Kirky, you guys should get to bed then.” She reminded them fondly, her finger twirling in the cord of the phone as she reveled in the comforting sound of Kirk's voice. “I love you guys.”

The was a stark silence for a moment, Kirk's heavy breathing the only noise that could be heard. “I- we love you too Y/N, talk to you tomorrow I promise.” There was a click, then silence, then the static of a dead phone line.

[icallhimjoey]

Only Temporary

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe needs a temporary living space, and you happen to have a spare room to let. One plus one equals two, baby.

CW / disclaimer: rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, swearing (lots), fluff 

Author’s note: this is the last part, sadface. The summary didn't need adding onto, I don't think. Also, we all hate Tom and we all love Eddie, join our club. (rewritten 15 nov 2023)

Wordcount: 3.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

  “Bye!”

Your goodbyes were short and dispassionate. 

A quick wave at the door with everyone still sat around the breakfast table, enjoying conversation, and having second helpings of whatever they liked most. 

It felt a little like thanking your dentist and telling him goodbye after you had him prod around in your mouth for forty minutes. 

You knew each other on another level, and it felt like there should be heartfelt hugs, but that wasn’t the relationship you had with your family.

Instead, you’d taken two bottles of water from the fridge for your drive, walked past the table and said “That was fun, guys. See you on the next one!” and hadn’t even bothered to stop by the door as a chorus of goodbyes from the table saw you out. 

Joe followed suit and it was only minutes later that you were back in the car, on the road together, on the way back to your flat.  

You recounted the morning, and Joe saw you sink into the seat like you hadn’t relaxed in weeks. 

“And?” you asked Joe, whose eyes danced between the road and you. 

“Any regrets on offering to tag along?” 

“The sand in my underwear says yes,” Joe joked, making you laugh. 

You couldn’t deny that you’d had fun, but you knew it was mostly because Joe had been there too. 

You were not going to tell him that, though. 

Obviously. 

“You’re going to have to come to one of my family get-togethers next, to teach us your family’s way of playing football,” Joe said, and he reached over to squeeze your knee before quickly pulling his hand back to grip the steering wheel. 

You felt the skin that he’d touched burn.

Joe cleared his throat loudly, and you didn’t know why it suddenly felt weird in the car, but for some reason, it did. 

In a bid to fan away the fluttery feeling in your stomach, you turned up the radio and let music fill the car to help drown out the thoughts milling around in your head. 

You tried to convince yourself that it was all figments of your own imagination, but you couldn’t even look at Joe’s hands with his fingers curled around your steering wheel. 

Tight grip. White knuckles.

Shit. 

Stop looking.

So, you sipped from your bottle of water, hummed along to the music as casually as you could, and looked out of the window at the rolling hills, thinking of what you were going to wear later for your date with Tom; the man you should be thinking about right now.

The air between the two of you remained tense, but you ignored it.

Said nothing, until after about half an hour, Joe decided against better judgement to just spit out what was on his mind. 

“Don’t go,” he suddenly said, right as you were about to gulp down a mouthful of water, making you cough and wheeze for air as some of it found its way down your windpipe.

“Shit, I’m- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Joe reached over a hand, eyes darting between you and the road, unsure what his hand would do to help you. 

You swatted it away fast as you coughed, water dripping down your chin. 

“Don’t go where?” you spoke with a constricted voice, and you used both your hands to wipe at your chin, your sleeves now spotting sizeable wet patches on either side. 

Charming. 

“I don’t- ugh…” Joe winced at himself. “I don’t think... Tom’s not, I don’t think he’s a good guy,” 

Um.

What?

You stared at Joe who now kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead of him. It was easier to get out what had been plaguing him for a second without having to look at you.

Joe went on to explain how he’d seen your neighbour earlier that week, walking into his building across the road from you, with another woman, how he had then decided to stay out of it, but that now... he felt like he had to tell you, so at least you knew. 

You know, before actually going on your first date with the literal man of your dreams. 

You remained silent all throughout Joe’s monologue and felt the urge to escape the car grow within your limbs. 

There was no chance of escape, though, obviously. 

You were going down the motorway at sixty miles per hour. 

Joe could literally go on and talk for all he was worth, and you’d just have to sit there and listen to him as he spewed things about your neighbour that you didn’t want to hear.

“People have siblings,” you reasoned immediately, all defensive. “And friends.” 

“They were making out a lot for siblings, I think,” Joe’s voice was soft, but it felt like he was making a joke, and it had anger bubbling up your throat.

“You’re overstepping.” You sternly said, because he was. 

“Sorry, I’m just trying to… I don’t know, protect you? I guess?”

You didn’t appreciate that.

“I don’t need protecting.” You huffed.

“I just thought you should know.” Joe’s eyes glanced at you, seething beside him, and he regretted even bringing it up at all.

“Okay, thanks for telling me then. Can we please talk about something else?” 

You didn’t talk about anything else. 

The rest of the drive home was silent, and as you stared out the window, you let resentment grow inside of your chest. 

Even when you tried to forgo it by trying to phone your friend, who you still hadn’t talked to, you got her voicemail. 

Again. 

Fucking bitch. 

You had to actively remind yourself you had a crush on Tom. That was who you were: a jobless, single, dumb old idiot with an orange tomcat who had feelings for her neighbour who lived opposite you and drove a range rover. You’d had those feelings for ages and they were a part of you now. 

But then Joe moved into your flat and had the audacity to just go ahead and change all of that? 

You realised your anger was mostly aimed at yourself, which in turn only angered you more. 

Come on! 

You’d actually bagged yourself a date with your neighbour, who was meant to be the love of your life, and now Joe was telling you that you should be careful of him? 

All kind, and sweet, and charming? 

What a dick.

Your thoughts ran rogue, and you knew the underlying feelings present, but were set on not facing them. 

Not right now. 

You had a date tonight, for fuck’s sake. With the man you’d been lusting over for months. You weren’t going to let Joe screw that up for you. 

When you pulled into your street, Joe stopped the car outside your flat. 

“Head inside, I’ll find a parking spot,”  

Ugh. 

He had to stop. 

You stomped out of the car like a grumpy teenager and slammed the door a tad too hard. 

Inside, you immediately locked yourself in the bathroom for a proper everything-shower. You made sure to wash and condition, several times, to exfoliate every inch of skin on you, and to shave every single strand of hair from the ears down. 

Because who knew who was going to be seeing what tonight, you thought. 

You weren’t one to bare all on the first date, but the way Joe had pissed you off, you almost wanted to get into Tom’s bed to prove Joe a point. 

Except, doing just that was probably only going to be proving Joe right, in this case. 

So, then the shaving became an act just for yourself, just so you’d feel smoother. 

And sexier. 

Perfect reasoning for a perfect date with the perfect man. 

It just... it was annoying you that you couldn’t remember the colour of his eyes, the way you could remember Joe’s. 

“You ruined it!” you yelled into your house as you walked from the bathroom to your bedroom after you shower. 

“What’s that?” Joe’s voice travelled from the living room where he was cradling Eddie in his arms like a baby.

“You ruined it before it even had a chance to properly kick off!” and you slammed your bedroom door shut, leaving Joe to read between lines he wasn’t sure he was even reading correctly at all. 

The piles of clothes in your bedroom took a minute to tidy up. Finding something for you to wear took even longer. 

When you eventually ventured out to head back into the bathroom to get started on your hair and make-up, you found Joe, standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall, facing your bedroom door. 

How long had he been there? 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Joe said when you did your best to ignore him. You strode past him, stepped back into the bathroom, and started taking random make-up products from your bag which you placed on the ledge by the mirror one by one. 

“Have the best time, yea?” he then said and reached for his jacket from the coat stand. 

“Where you going?” you hated that you asked it. 

“Pub,” was all Joe said, and neither of you said goodbye as Joe walked out the door.  

It was eight o’clock on the dot when the doorbell rang. You’d been fanning yourself with your hands as you’d walked back and forth between the kitchen and living room for the past thirty minutes. Barefoot, because postponing putting your heels on meant you’d stand to wear them longer. 

Eddie had taken notice of your frantic movements and meowed at your loudly from up on the kitchen table, a spot he knew very well he wasn’t allowed to be. 

You were too busy trying to wave cool air onto your chest to help fade the blotches that had formed there, and unfortunately for Eddie, you didn’t have time to pick him up and nuzzle into his fur like Joe had been doing earlier. 

“Tom,” you said, smiling your sweetest smile when you opened the door to a man holding a bouquet of flowers.  

“Thomas. I go by Thomas.” 

Oh. 

Funny way to greet you... 

The problem wasn’t that his way of saying hi to you was to correct you on his name; it was the juxtaposition you immediately noticed between him and Joe. 

You remembered how Joe had corrected your friend when she had tried to call him Joseph, opting for the more informal shortened version of it. 

Tom, Thomas, however, seemed to be of a different breed. 

Strike one, spoke a voice inside your mind that you immediately tried to shush. 

He did bring you flowers, after all. 

“Oh, sorry. Thomas, hi. Come on in, I’m just finishing up,” you stepped aside and let your neighbour into your flat. Your flat, which had looked fine before but now seeing it through Thomas’s eyes, felt like a complete pigsty. 

You silently cursed at yourself for not having put your heels on before Thomas had rung your doorbell so you could’ve immediately left, and quickly dashed off into your bedroom whilst Thomas stepped foot into the living. 

“Oh, jeez,” You could hear him exclaim, and when you joined him, you were met with Eddie who seemed to have doubled in size and was glaring at your neighbour. 

Thick tail shaking high up above his arched back and with ears flattened back against his head, he looked just about ready to pounce. 

“Eddie!” You tried, but Thomas let out a nervous laugh. 

“Cats tend not to like me much. Doesn’t help that I’m allergic,” 

Shit.

Strike two. 

“Eddie tends to not like humans,” you justified. “Trust me, it’s not you,” you tried to convince yourself as much as you tried to convince Thomas. 

“Ready to go?” he looked like he couldn’t wait to get out of your flat. 

At the restaurant, Thomas showcased how much of a gentleman he was. He held your chair out for you to sit, got champagne for the two of you and told the waiter it was a special occasion, not revealing it was just your first date together. 

Thomas was all polished jawline, strong brow, dark hair, and he smelled divine. 

Textbook handsome in his pale blue shirt, you thought. And, he drove a fucking range rover. This man had success written all over him.

You felt like you didn’t measure up. 

Sat across the table from him, you tried to search for faults of his – just, any obvious imperfections – but just from looking at him, there weren’t any. 

You, on the other hand, had many faults, and it was easy for you to list them in your mind:  

-       Your life was shit, for one -       You left dirty laundry on the floor all the time -       Your sofa was covered in cat hair -       You barely ever flossed -       You didn’t know how to drive your own car properly -       You didn’t have a job, a pension plan or any savings left at this point -       You left rings all over your own coffee table, you didn’t own any coasters -       Your freezer hadn’t been defrosted in over a year -       You had no idea what to do with flavoured olive oils -       You unhealthily romanticized the idea of dating your neighbour  -       You had a crush on your flatmate -       Shit. -       You had a crush.  -       On your flatmate.  -       Shitting shit, shit.

You snapped back into the conversation Thomas was seemingly having with himself, because you hadn’t been listening at all. 

You looked at your glass of champagne and downed the full thing in one go. The bubbles fizzed up into your nose, and you had to hold back a sneeze. 

Thomas was talking about how he’d been plucking up the courage to ask you out for months. Hardly the right time to spray champagne all over him. 

“There was never a right time,” he said. “We kept bumping into each other, but I was scared of looking like an idiot.” 

He was saying all the correct words as you refilled your glass, tempted to just have a sip from the bottle itself, and had Joe not put the image of him making out with another girl in front of his flat earlier this week into your head, you would probably have swooned. 

“You were scared?” you gave a condescending chuckle, not believing a word of it. 

Had he seen you?  

“Well, yea,” he said, and smiled at you. You were sure it was meant to be cute, but to you, it all felt brazen. 

No, get it together, you thought. 

You reminded yourself you were at a fancy restaurant, with a sweet man, who was very handsome. So, you talked about your weekend, your dad’s birthday, your awful stepmother, and with every joke you made, Thomas didn’t laugh. At one point he even went, “I don’t get it,” and left you to explain why playing football the way your family played it was more fun than boring old regular footy. 

And then he still didn’t get it. 

When Thomas excused himself to go to the bathroom, you sighed when you tried to pour yourself another drink from an empty bottle. You’d drank all of it, and Thomas hadn’t made you laugh once. 

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly as you listened to your mind whisper: strike three.  

Was it just Joe’s words that had slowly convinced you Thomas wasn’t who you had imagined him to be? You tried to convince yourself that dating several women at once was fine; you weren’t exclusive, this was only your first date. 

But you weren’t actually fine with that. 

You tried to imagine if you would’ve liked Thomas better if Joe hadn’t told you about the other woman he’d seen him with, but the mental image of Thomas stayed the same. 

It was tainted now, and you wondered why you had ever even lusted after him to begin with. You’d been so head over heels for this guy, and for what? 

You stared helplessly at the breadbasket Thomas hadn’t touched – “Too many carbs for me, but go ahead, have some,” – and you felt your fantasy of Thomas and you living together happily ever after fading fast. 

When he came back to the table, you did the unthinkable before your mind could catch up with you. 

“I need to leave,” you were on your feet before Thomas could even get a word in. 

“Let me know how much this was, I’ll pay you back for it,” and without looking back, you marched out the door, leaving behind your dumbfounded neighbour who was left to scramble at what he had done wrong to have you walk out on him before the main course had even been served. 

Instead of going home, you headed for the pub. It wasn’t a long walk, and with the large, angry steps you were talking, heels scraping against the pavement, it took no time for you to get there.  

Walking in, the crowd was made of up families and groups of friends finishing up their Sunday roasts, as well as people stood around holding their drinks, double fisting large pints, having chats. 

It was loud inside, and you scanned the room from the doorway until you spotted him. 

There. 

By the bar. 

Pint in hand. 

Talking in a group of three. 

Actor friends, you were sure.

You beelined straight over to him, bumping into strangers’ shoulders as you went, and when you were just a few steps away, Joe saw you.

“Hey, what are you doing here? You seem–” 

You silenced him by planting your lips right onto his, arms slung around his neck with your chest pressed up against him tightly. Joe didn’t try to resist – it would have been useless anyway. You had more champagne in your system than was good for you, and you were all riled up with emotions. 

The poor boy didn’t stand a chance. 

For a second, Joe was frozen. Unsure of what was happening. But then, behind you, one of Joe’s friends took Joe’s drink out of his hand and you felt how he took hold of you, wrapping his arms around, and how he started kissing you back. 

It took a few seconds for the two of you to be making out like teenagers, and you heard people snicker beside you. 

Pulling back, you glared at him.

“Thomas is shit.” 

You kissed him again. 

“You’re shit.” 

Another kiss. 

“Honestly, such a shithead.” 

And another.

“I am,” Joe agreed, speaking into your mouth. 

“The biggest shithead.” 

Joe pulled you into him until your feet weren’t touching the floor anymore, and he felt the bar press hard into his back. You kissed roughly, passionately, in a way that would make anyone watching you uncomfortable until you had to pull back to catch your breath. 

When your feet found the floor again, you suddenly pushed back forcefully and slapped Joe against his shoulder with a flat hand. 

You were mad, still.

“What did you have to do that for?” what you accused Joe of, you weren't even sure, but your voice was so annoyed, and the frown etched deep into your face accompanied it perfectly. 

Joe fucking loved it. 

“How could I not have? You’re shit,” Joe said and was quick to pull you in for another kiss. 

“You are such a shithead.” 

And you agreed, sinking deeper into Joe’s lips as his hands found your cheeks to hold, and his hot breath caressed your face. 

“This is the weirdest kiss I’ve ever witnessed,” you heard one of Joe’s friends say, who were both still stood beside you. 

“Fuck off,” Joe spoke between kisses. 

“Yea, fuck off,” you repeated, entirely unaware of who you were speaking to, and you felt Joe smile against your mouth.  

You could both be shit. 

Could both have shitty lives, because you were convinced that they’d cancel each other out just fine.

The sudden vibration in your pocket pulled you right out of the kiss, and back into the pub you were both stood in. When you quickly checked to see who was calling you – you were kind of hoping it was Thomas, just so you could tell him to fuck off as well – you saw it was your friend, finally returning the countless calls you’d made. 

You shot your eyes up at Joe, who had also seen your phone’s display, and for a moment you contemplated not picking up. Sending her call to voicemail felt like the payback she deserved.  

“Pick up. Tell her we kissed,” Joe nudged you and smiled, holding out his hand for his friend to pass him back his drink. 

And you smiled back, because that was exactly what you wanted to do. 

“I’ll see you back at the flat in what, thirty minutes?” 

“Thirty minutes,” you repeated, all giddy and stupid when Joe winked at you as you started moving towards the exit.

“Bitch,” You answered your phone. “Guess the fuck what? I’m about to test-drive your plan B.” 

"What?!"

And you almost skipped on your way home. 

Life suddenly didn’t seem so shit anymore. 

It could only go up from here.

the end

----

The Taglisted: @ghostinthebackofyourhead​ @kiwisa​ @jasminearondottir​ @josephquinned​ @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71​ @alana4610​ @emmamooney @xomunson​ @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5​ @nobody-000 @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks​ @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi  @thewondernanazombie​ @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster​ @kellysimagines​ @thefemininemystiquee​  - add yourself  

[zentriii]

Most of the time? Atsumu's just a guy who acts before he thinks. Doesn't think before he acts. However that saying goes.

What feels good? What's easiest? What does he want?

Those aren't questions he writes down like life's an exam. They're simple urges that guide his actions during a typical day. He’s not a fan of overthinking the details.

He's been doing well enough for himself, so why fix what's not broken?

Unfortunately for Atsumu, there are times when this goes around to bite him in the ass. Covered in flour and three seconds away from screaming, well, he's shaking his fist at his past self again.

He sets the bag down onto the counter and peers in- great. Just what he was hoping for, there's not enough left.

Atsumu kicks the small pile of flour that was making itself comfortable laying on his feet and puts his thinking cap on. He’d wallow for a bit, but it’s too late at night for him to feel frustrated for long. It’s already half gone, slipping through him like a ghost. What's next?

Staring forlornly at the spilt four, he knows he has to throw it out. Sure the floor looks clean, but he hasn't swept in a week or mopped in. Actually, he's not finishing that thought. In too long's good enough.

He quickly sweeps up and takes a wet cloth for the bits that were left. Atsumu didn’t have the energy to chase the stubborn line the spade leaves behind forever. The recipe called for two cups of flour and he knows from just the look of it, there's not enough left. Fuck.

Alright so he needs flour. That's his solution. Unfortunately, it doesn't come with any steps he's willing to take.

Atsumu can feel the flour under his clothes, there isn't a damn way in hell he's going out in public looking like a hot mess. And honestly, it's the middle of the night. The clock above the stove helpfully supplies the time and puts the final nail in the coffin, 4:23AM. Even if there's a place open, it's nowhere near close enough. Not only would their PR manager have a fit if he got caught, he'd get clowned on by everyone until the day he dies for it. His friends and family don’t need that sort of ammo on him, they’ve already got enough as it is.

Atsumu shakes some of the flour out of his hair, if he's lucky one of the college students across the hall should be awake. It's midterm season, if his brother's grumbling over their last call is reliable. He stares mournfully at his apartment’s door. Hopefully the friendly one answers, because he's not looking forward to explaining himself to the one with the death glare.

The one with the death glare opens the door because of course the gods were laughing at Atsumu, of course they were. The words he had prepared die on his throat but thankfully Tall, Dark, and Brooding doesn't give the silence time to become awkward.

“Can I help you?” Grumpy-san asks, attempting to incinerate Atsumu with his eyes alone. Sadly for the poor guy, Osamu's been trying to do the same since the moment he came out of the womb, Atsumu's immune.

“D’you have any flour by chance?” Atsumu asks sheepishly, playing up the charm. He gestures vaguely to the mess on himself, “I kinda had a bit of an accident in the kitchen.”

“I can see,” The man drawls, not giving Atsumu an inch.

“What do you even need it for at,” he glances at his phone, “four-thirty in the morning.”

The Man with Moles glares at him, like he's a ten year old inconveniencing his teacher by asking to use the washroom.

“I'm baking cookies, would ya like some when they're done?” His voice is saccharine and his smile fake. Atsumu hopes his neighbour doesn't take him up on the offer. Who would want to spend more time with a guy that looks like he could make you shit yourself if he tries? So obviously, the hot stranger agrees.

“Are you going to poison them?” He asks Atsumu, and interrupts before he can answer, “Actually no, I don't care. They just better not taste like shit.”

He slams the door in Atsumu's face, which, rude, but gives Atsumu a chance to process what the fuck just happened. Ah well, a few cookies is a small price to pay, maybe he could even weasel a name out of Eye Bags for Days, it’s getting tough to keep coming up with names for him. A small part of him is offended at the lack of trust in his baking skills, but he’s aware of how he looks right now. Atsumu wouldn’t trust a stranger in sweats, knocking at his door at ass-o-clock, asking for flour cause he got it all over himself.

The door opens as abruptly as it closed, and a container of flour finds it way into Atsumu’s hands, damn, Curly Hair works fast. “Don’t come by again for another 10 hours at least. Good night.”

With that he nods a goodbye and Atsumu still feels stuck reeling. His Ma raised him with manners though, even if he deigns to ignore them most of the time, so he chirps a quick, “Thanks! Ya saved my life.”

His gratitude is sincere, his words, less so. It doesn’t matter much as his fellow insomniac’s eyes are bleary with sleep. Glaring must be exhausting. He grumbles something Atsumu can’t pick up, and closes the door, Atsumu takes that as a courteous you’re welcome or anytime, even if he’s not tired enough to actually believe it. The guy should’ve spoken more clearly if he didn’t want people putting words into his mouth.

Still mostly dusted in flour, Atsumu walks back to his place. A little lighter with the container of flour weighing him down, a little nervous to see the man again, a little annoyed at his curt responses. At least he’s interesting, Atsumu can’t stand boring people. He’ll just overlook the guy’s prickliness as sleep deprivation, he’s a kind guy like that.

updated vers on ao3

[in-your-reflection]

Somewhere, beyond space and beyond time…

[TW: Domestic abuse, suicide]

A town of polished white stone sits stop an endless sea, buildings stacked upon buildings like a great pyramid, as if reaching up to touch the sky. Orange light covers the whole of it, glistening off the water and bathing the town in an eternal twilight.

Beneath a pure white gazebo, two youths sit across from each other, one bearing four arms and a flower in his hair, the other with horns and a patch over one eye. The table between them is covered in a lavish display of pastries - macarons, miniature tarts, financiers, mille-feuille - with an ornate tea set alongside them, with plenty of everything for the two to share.

To one side lies a chessboard, in the middle of a match, though some of its pieces are conspicuously missing. The white-clad boy adjusts its bishop, planting it near the center of the board.

"Checkmate." "Fuck you mean checkmate." "Look. It's threatening your king in both timeline A turn 7 and timeline C turn 9. You can't save them both."

The blond lifts his tea to his lips with his upper-right hand, lower-right taking another slice of tart while his upper-left lifts the knight.

"Yeah I can. It's turn 4."

The piece hits the board with a clack.

"…So you can. Impressive work, morning star." "What's this all about, anyway? This whole setup, the tea party. Clearly you're trying to win me over. Spill it." "But I just made this tea…" "The truth, not the tea." "Ah. Well, in truth…"

The teary-eyed boy bows his head, pony-tailed hair hanging over one shoulder.

"…I felt my apology was insufficient. I had hoped to find time for us to just…talk. Thus I asked you to make time for us. …I would have done so myself, had I the strength." "Your apology." Two arms fold over his chest with a skeptical twitch of an ear and a crisp bite into a macaron.

The boy in white pinches his single eye shut.

"…For everything. I have been…a horrible husband. For as much grief as I have caused you regarding your memory, I…was unable to control myself under the weight of my own."

The boy in black returns his teacup to the table with a click.

"Thousands of thousands of years, and you never once actually told me about your past. About what All was like before the universe we made."

He lets out a deep sigh.

"Why won't you just talk to me? What's with all this memory-erasing husband-beating doormat-act bullshit? Maybe if you would actually talk about what's been bothering you, we could work through it."

The gaze of that red eye would burn through steel, piercing directly into the fallen god's soul.

"You know what it looks like on my end? It looks like malice. You haven't bothered to give me any sort of justification for why you've been doing what you did, so the only logical conclusion is that despite how much you suck up to me, you actually want me to suffer." "I--" "Is that how you feel? Is that any way to treat the person who brought you back from the dead just so we could be together again? I could put you back. Your corpse is still there, you know. I can easily pay it another visit."

The sinner chokes back a breath.

"…But I won't. Cause despite everything, I do have some love for you still. And I know we could work something out. If you would just open your fucking mouth for once in your life."

Pale as a ghost, the ivory prince stares into his half-emptied teacup. The liquid quivers between his shaking hands.

"…Please. Put me back. I cannot continue--" "CUT THAT SHIT OUT ALREADY!"

Four hands slam against the table's edge, scattering treats across the sky, before they abruptly reverse in trajectory and gently resettle themselves back into formation on their platters.

"You can't just keep saying that you want to die every time you run into something uncomfortable! Sometimes you just have to open your fucking eye and face the reality in front of you. That's life, Ayin! That's what being alive is about!" "Prrh…mm…tlif…", a shaky voice mumbles in response. "WHAT? Speak up, dammit." "Perhaps I am not meant to live."

The eternal twilight comes to a gradual end, the moon rising to bathe the plaza in shadow. As if on cue, the one of shadow stands up, gazing down in silhouette as his glowing red gaze brands itself into his partner's mind.

The quiet lasts for what feels like an eternity. It may well have been, in the absence of time.

"If what you want is to suffer, then suffer." "What?"

A two-fingered gesture towards the fruit-covered tart in the center of the table, cuing the platter to rise up.

The knife takes flight. Gently, deliberately, moving to rest on the plate of the boy in white, blade towards his chest.

"…Lucifer, what does this mean?" "You know what to do. Do it. Right now. Like the coward you are."

He takes the knife in his hands. Holding it primed, ready to thrust.

Minutes pass. Hours. Days, perhaps. Who could possibly tell?

The newly-established night turns pitch black, not a thing in sight but that crimson gaze.

And in the black, metal clatters to the floor.

A boy's voice timidly speaks, sobbing into the cold midnight air.

"Okay…okay. I'll talk. I'll tell you everything. No half-truths, no tricks. I… I…!"

The night is cold, and lonely. One cannot face the darkness by oneself.

[the-kipsabian]

so heres the gist of it

im unemployed

that should be the end of it lmao. unfortunately its not

on top of that, i live in one of the cheapest single bedroom apartments in the entire city. and yet according to new rulings that started this spring, im paying 12 euros too much for rent to be considered for the full amount of financial help that i should be able to get to help pay for it, which delays my paperwork every single time i apply for this benefit (thats high key crucial for my survival as, again, im unemployed as fuck) and they keep insisting i need to look for a cheaper apartment (which is impossible, there literally isnt any in this whole city and if there is, they are so sought after at this point people nab them immediately so...) or i might lose most of those benefits in the future. so thats fun

but i cant move cause i cant afford a more expensive place cause 1. im still unemployed as fuck and 2. they wouldnt approve of my paperwork cause even higher rent would be against their rules and the cost limit they are enforcing so...

ive been trying to get a job for a well over a year and a half now. nobody is hiring even tho a lot of people are looking. it always comes down to either being in a location i cant get to (cause its too far and i dont have a car or the hours are so inconsistent i cant make it without a car, usually) or just not being good enough with my skillset or whatever the fuck. it always goes to someone else and its been like that for months now so.. yeah, im kinda stuck with that too

HOWEVER the city has decided to add another fucking wrench into my entire situation since remember, im 1. unemployed as fuck, 2. i dont own a car, or even have a license for that matter, to move around everywhere, and 3. the government is actively trying to get me to move into a cheaper apartment that simply does not exist in this city ffs or they might cut my benefits or at least delay all my payments with taking ages with the added paperwork cause of that :)

so now? they have completely destroyed the bus schedules to my part of the city. nothing moves in or out of here past half six on the evening on weekdays anymore. even worse, on weekends nothing goes past two in the afternoon. which is.. ridiculous. that means that if you work evening shifts, tough shit youre not getting home unless you bike or walk (which isnt exactly a valid option with winter coming soon and lasting for like 75% of the year lmao), youre not getting to morning shifts if they start at 7am cause nothing moves from here before that, god speed if you work on the weekends cause youre really not moving from here or to here almost at all since the schedules were already horrendous and now theyve cut at least three or four drives from that sssssooooooooo

basically what this means is that it cuts my possibilities for jobs i can apply and accept a RIDICULOUS amount. any normal retail job would ask you to be able to work both morning, day and evening shifts; i literally cant do two of those anymore which ofc limits my chances dramatically as someone they would consider hiring. work on weekends? yeah i was already on the fence for it since my saturdays are usually hangout days but i was willing to make sacrifices but knowing i wouldnt be able to work past half two? yeah again, limits my chances so much on being hired

which means. im already struggling to get a job. now with this new schedule they are limiting me so much more on what i can go for and what i can be hired for so i can actually cover any shifts on anything ever. which in turn means im not gonna have that money i need to pay for a bigger apartment. which means im not gonna be able to move. which means im stuck with these schedules. which means im limited in what jobs i can apply and get even considered to be hired for. which means....

you see the issue? you know why im fucking upset and mad and angry and sad and i actually had a screaming crying fit last night cause i cant fucking handle this shit and how inconsidered this whole fucking thing is to literally everyone?? the people who changed the bus scheduling said its cause of the lack of customers (which isnt even true and they compared summer numbers to winter numbers which fucking LMAO ofc people use the busses less during the summer when they can bike or scoot about so much easier. and most of them are not even in town anyways for their vacations so) but also its important to note that i live in the part of town where theres a lot of families and old people and the lack of cars and kids moving around here from school to back is actually very big and yet. YET

im just.. sorry. i needed to get this out. cause its utterly ridiculous and im now stuck in this fucking cycle and i dont know what to do. im gonna send an application for any potential open apartments to the firm i rent from right now since they cover the entire city and have basically the cheapest places here so that maybe i can get something offered to me if anything frees within the next year or so. apart from that i have no idea what to do. i have no desire or money to get a license, let alone a whole ass fucking car, i get anxiety just thinking about driving. im just stuck here, in this goddamn loop that just somehow got worse as i discovered this whole bus scheduling issue last night. and i really dont know how to break it with how these things are all affecting each other

i left the city some feedback about this and got my friends to do it too since we are all fucking mad about this but.. unless they get a noticeable amount of it, i doubt they'll be doing anything about it, or at least not very fast so. im just stuck and im fucked and im upset and im angry and i needed to get this out im sorry if you read this whole thing im just. im going to fucking explode