#k way golf t shirts

[del-stars]

Now I’m curious. Which current nepo-baby would match with the marauders?

i believe this ask is inspired by this post from @s3raphinaa !!

based purely on vibes and things that celebrity said one time:

stretching the definition of current to say that sirius black is y2k paris hilton/kim k. just famous for no particular reason and proud of it. people ask him why he's famous and he'll say something along the lines of i'm pretty, everyone wants to be me, etc. etc. he definitely also leaked his own sex tape

james gives me lily-rose depp vibes very specifically for that quote where she's like 'i actually work really hard so calling me a nepo baby is really unfair.' just positively tone-deaf. he definitely does something with his nepotism like acting or music, but he's just far too out of touch to realise that it's because his parents are globally famous

for no particular reason i am saying remus is maya hawke. does pretty decent for himself, definitely booked and busy. like he's trying to make his own money so he is clocked in, but definitely recognises/acknowledges that a lot of his opportunities are due to nepotism

peter is clairo. for the reaction that i'm sure some people just had: what, she's a nepo baby? peter is a grand-slam indie bedroom pop artist, captures the feeling of being the isolated, awkward kid in a way that the internet just devours, but yes, his dad owns top golf

marlene is zoe kravitz. daughter of two really fucking cool parents who ended up also being really fucking cool in her own right. definite trendsetter, fashion icon, and stunningly gorgeous but that's just my opinion

lily and her sister are elle and dakota fanning, that sort of sibling nepotism. petunia gets famous as a child actor, when lily is much younger, and then lily grows up and eventually becomes more beloved than her. you see the parallels here

regulus. regulus is bella hadid. definitely got where he is because of his head start in life, but also really good at what he does, and also we are all so sorry about your mom. the constant comparisons to his sibling, their distance in the public eye, and the superseding parental fame by just staying booked and being iconic.

pandora and evan are willow and jaden. i dont know if i need to explain this at length, they just are. crazily famous parents, but they strike out on their own and do a little bit of everything

barty is hailey bieber very specifically when she wore that 'nepo baby' t-shirt, but it goes over much better when he does it. just does not give a fuck. yes, he's a nepo baby, he only sort-of works, but he's definitely got his own very intense fanbase

[fishnets-fingers]

Six Months - Part Twenty Two

Summary - Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together?

PAIRING - camboy!harry x indian!oc

a/n - i’d like to apologise for the impromptu two month break. work was hectic and my bosses are grade a pricks. things are slowly starting to wind down. this part took a long time to write with all the angst but i hope it’s readable. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome.  happy reading!

Word Count - 11.5 k

Warnings - angst cental, fluff, allusions to smut.

Masterpost (find previous parts here)

Layla does not know how long she can go on like this. She is  currently behind Earl’s stall at the farmer’s market, where he’s selling his produce and flowers. The slanting rays of the afternoon light, permeate through the thin petals of the dahlias, making the pointed edges seem luminous. It was unusually busy, the marketplace, almost all of Earl’s produce were sold out. Her eyes were fixed on the task at hand - wrapping a sheet of newspaper around a bouquet of aster and dahlias. But her body is hyper aware of the boy standing at the other end of the stall, longing for him to glance her way but he was busy counting money to give to the man for whom she was putting the flowers together. 

“Here you go,” Layla smiles, handing him the bouquet.

The man thanks her and heads on and she shoots a quick glance in Harry’s direction. She’s met with the broad expanse of his back clad in a black t-shirt, hair tousled with a pair of glasses tucked behind his ear, and black skinny jeans. He’s talking to Earl, pointing to something on his phone. She sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears, grateful for her Aunt who insisted on getting her a pair of fleece lined tights. The crisp autumn air does not make her quiver, like it used to. She’s still getting used to layering for the cold, but she thought she did a great job with her outfit. Much better than the one she sleepily pulled together this morning for golf, an outfit that made her uncle howl at the green.

She was even looking forward to the compliment when she walked out the door. She was wearing her white tennis skirt, with the fleece lined tights, doc marten loafers, her thrifted jumper and a faux leather jacket that she flicked from Abi’s closet. But Harry had stepped out with a surly look in his eyes, doing nothing but giving her a curt nod and he’d remained like that till now. She chalked it up to a bad day. Everyone had those days, even if he was chipper that morning. Hoping to lighten his mood Layla jabbered about what happened in golf and the nosey question a student asked about the two of them; she received nothing but apathetic nods and muted hums. 

That’s how it started then it snowballed into completely pretending like she doesn’t exist until now. He didn’t meet her eyes and went out of his way to put space between the two of them. Gone was the warm touchy, kissy boyfriend and in his place stood this lanky frigid boy - who looked like he didn’t want anything to do with her. It was someone pressed a button that bought a sledgehammer that shattered Harry’s lavender haze. 

Maybe he realised loving you way too much of a burden, she shakes her head, trying to dispel her thoughts.

“Hey,um, I’m gonna go pick up some stuff and head over to yours to get a head start on dinner,” Layla informs the two who were transfixed at something on Harry’s phone, hiking her bag up her shoulder. THe gang was congregating at Earl’s for dinner today.

“You’re sure? We’ll be done in a few more hours,” Earl tells, looking at her through the rim of his glasses; she was picking away at a fray thread on her tote bag.

“Positive.” She smiles at him. 

“Here, take this then,” Earl hands over the keys to his car. “I don’t want you lugging over that cast iron all the way home.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, putting the key in her pocket, shuffling over to the other side. It doesn't go unnoticed that Harry immediately steps away from her when she brushes past the two, making her frown. Since when does he pass up the opportunity?

////

Layla had managed to make quite a spread. A creole potato salad, sweet chilli halloumi with cashew slaw, and Ribollita . Her Uncle and Aunty were setting up the dining room, Anne and Earl were somewhere in the house and Harry was busy fiddling with Earl’s record player in the living room. Layla’s slumped behind the kitchen island waiting for the stuffed butternut squash to finish in the oven, while lazily flicking through Earl’s wife’s recipe book. There were so many pages that were blank towards the end. She wonders what she would have filled them with had she had more time. 

The ding of the oven, pulls her attention and not before long, she’s slipping on some mitts to take out the pan, to pull out the butternut squash she picked out in the farmer’s market. She notices Harry’s wallet peeking out from his tote - abandoned on the kitchen island - as she sets the hot utensil down. 

Maybe if I put the tickets in there? Maybe the surprise would make him perk up and stop being surly, she ponders. She looks up at him, sitting on the floor hunched over the turntable with his hair pushed back with the red silk bandana she got him from New Orleans. He was fixated on the red light that was on the side of the circular spinning table, as he was tuning something to help adjust the pitch. She takes it as an opportunity to  quickly pull out the black Gucci wallet and flip it open.

The image in his photo pocket makes her want to run over and tackle him in a giant hug. He’d put a picture of her in his wallet. He went out of his way to print a wallet sized picture and slotted it in there. Important enough for his wallet, it makes her smile. It was the picture he took on the day of Abi’s flower braiding ceremony - the two of them on her bed smiling into the kiss, dimples on display, her hands cupped around his face, lips pouring affection into each other. She runs her fingers on the laminate that protected the image inside, almost like she was checking to see if it would disintegrate, like she needed to make sure that the boy who was currently icy towards her all day was the same one who did this. She notices him move from the corner of her eye, making her swiftly dig into the pocket of her black faux leather jacket, slot the two fall carnival tickets she bought at the market behind his dollar bills and discretely slip it inside the tote.

She pretends to look for something in the cabinets as he stalks towards the kitchen, as he swings open the door of the refrigerator. 

“Harry,” she turns to face him, fighting the urge to control the simper that stretches across her face. “I made ribollita.”

The corners of her mouth droops when he barely looks at her, staring pointedly at the glass as he pours in the pineapple watermelon  big boy soda Earl has stocked up.

Despite not being acknowledged, she continues, “I remember you telling me about your final night in Tuscany where you, Mitch, and Sarah were so drunk and how you all stumbled into this dodgy looking place run by an elderly couple at midnight. And how that ribollita was the best you’ve ever had.” He even told her that if he ever got a chance to take her anywhere in the world, he’d fly her out to Anghiari and trudge up the steps of the town, wine drunk with interlinked hands under the starry Italian skies. “I found this recipe on YouTube by some nonna. Took a while to make it; hope it tastes -”

“Whatever,” he says quietly, shrugging his shoulders, walking over to the dining room with the glass of green liquid on one hand and the squash on the other with the dish towel.

“Prick,” she mutters, shooting daggers on his back.

////

Hushed voices float from the end of the hall, it had to be Anne and Earl. Layla walks quietly towards the partially closed door.

“I would not recommend it, Earl,” Anne says, looking at a report.

“You’re being overly cautious,” he chuckles, adjusting the rim of his glasses, so they sit higher up the bridge of his nose.

Layla tiptoes, hoping the wood of the floor does not creak, closer to the door. Angling herself so most of her body is hidden behind the white door.

“Everyone has headaches,” he says, popping an ibuprofen in his mouth.

“Not everyone had a stent placed on their heart three years ago. You’re feeling faint often, yeah?”

“It happened a couple of times,” Earl answers.

“Any fevers? Chills? Body pain?” Anne enquires.

Earl shakes his head. “I think you’re being overly cautious, Anne.”

“I still want you to come into the hospital. I think it’s best to do a cardiac cath, and run some bloodwork. I think Dr. Siegelbaum would also agree,” she states firmly.

Layla knocks - in hopes that she could join in her conversation so she can convince him to visit the hospital. Slowly creaking the door open, popping her head in, “Hey, dinner’s all set. Just waiting for you two,” she tells them in her best chirpy voice. 

“Give us a minute, sweetheart,” Anne says, putting back the papers in a folder.

 “We can talk later.” Earl tells her. “I have something very special planned for dinner,” he smiles, opening a drawer from his bedside table, pulling out a manila envelope.

Layla sits next to her Uncle, putting as much distance as she could with Harry. Earl walks in and sits next to her, handing her the envelope.

“What’s this?” She asks, eyebrow arched, as she takes a sip of water. 

“Open it,” he smiles.

She pries the tab open to find red coloured rectangular papers inside, she shuffles them out and five ticket stubs fall out. There’s a picture of Mickey and right underneath it it says ‘THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH.’ The other end of the tick stub is perforated, and it says ‘ADMIT ONE.’ “No fucking way!” She squeals. “You got tickets to Disney World!”

Earl gleefully cackles. “Yes. I did. All five of you are hopping on a plane for a four day trip to Orlando,” he announces. 

The table chuckles at Layla. “Wait, you were all in on this?” She asks.

Anne nods. “He coordinated with us for dates.”

“We’re going during the Thanksgiving break. It will be crowded but we all didn’t have similar holiday windows, so we settled for this,” Abi says.

“And before you protest. You have to accept it. We’ve been planning this for over two months now.”

“But it’s so expensive - “

“Hush,” Earl shuts Layla down. “You and Harry have worked in my shop and helped me with so many orders. Think of this as your wage.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” She tells him, kissing him on the cheek as she throws her arms around his shoulders.

“You’re very welcome,” he says, giving her a warm squeeze. 

“ Why aren’t you coming with us, Earl?” Vasanth asks.

“I’ve been there multiple times with my grandkids. Plus, I’m heading to Florida in the new year to stay with my son for a few weeks.”

“Did you make these tickets yourself?” Layla asks, passing them around. 

“All the tickets are emailed. I’ve already forwarded them to everyone. It’s a shame that you kids don’t have ticket stubs anymore for keepsakes. Harry made this on Photoshop. He even got it printed, so you all can have a tactile reminder.”

“Thank you,” Layla smiles at Hary who’s scooping up the Ribollita.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives her a tightlipped smile in return as she spoons some salad on her plate.

////

“You’ve been driving?!?” Vasanth screams, looking at Layla who’s burrowing behind Anne on the couch. He quickly walks away from where he was in conversation with Earl to his niece, who he believes Shiva put on his Earth to turn every hair on his head grey. “I see you!” He steps in front of her, arms folded up, stance upright.

“What?” She muffles over a mouthful of leftover creole salad. Earl had specially requested Layla to make it and she spent over an hour trying to meticulously follow his wife’s recipes hoping the elimination of thick cut bacon won’t affect the taste as much.

“Answer the question, kutti.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m talking about what Earl told me just now. Like you, manoeuvring his Prius from where it was parallel parked.”

“So it seems,” she shrugs.

“உன்னை அடிக்க வைக்காதே(don’t make me whack you), Layla. I’m being deadly serious. You could end up in trouble with the cops.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad of a driver.”

“I know that. Your Indian licence is valid in this state for only three months. You came here in August, meaning, you are not legally allowed to drive now. Don’t - Do you not care about how that infraction would look when you’re applying for a student visa?!?”

“Calm down, சித்தப்பா! Look,” she shuffles through her tote and whips out her licence from her wallet. 

He examines it closely. “When did you-”

“தாத்தா ஒரு நாள் என்னை அழைத்துச் சென்றார் (Grandad, took me one day).” She winks.”You’re crazy to think I would do anything that would jeopardise my shot at a PhD.”

“If you have an international driver’s licence, then why do you insist on me driving you to the Indian store?”

“Because,” she blushes, knowing Anne’s right there. “I don’t get to spend much time with you,” she says quietly. “Aunty works remote on certain days but you always go out the door at nine and get back home after six. Then you have things around the house to take care of and I know this is really selfish of me to say this but I don’t know how to share you with someone as needy as me.”

“Are you talking about the -”

She nods. “I’m just selfishly trying to bank on Layla Vasanth time before you run out of that because you have an infant to cater to. And I know that’s how it it should be but -”

“நீ என் பயிற்சி சக்கரங்களாக இருந்தீர்கள். அப்பாவாக இருப்பதில். (You are my training wheels. For being a dad.)” He sniffles, pinching her cheek. “Besides we both know the minute you’re gonna start studying here, you’re gonna be my pain in the ass full time.” 

She laughs. “Shut up!”

“How about we go golfing every weekend and head to Dominos for lunch? Just the two of us.”

“No golf. It’s really cold. I much prefer playing back home where it’s sweaty.”

“Bowling then? I can teach you how to,” Vasanth proposes. “We can even go see a movie while we’re there.”

“It’s a date.” Layla smiles.

////

Layla raps against the cherry wood door, before poking her head into the master bedroom. She finds her Aunt propped up against the headboard, legs outstretched on the fluffy olive green duvet, bump in the way - giving an ample distance between Abi and the Macbook bolstered on the wooden bed desk. One of the many advantages of working from home was getting to be the most comfortable - with a rapidly growing five month bump -  while working a humdrum nine to five. That and being in your sleep clothes; Abi’s is in one of her tattered wrap around skirts, and a tank top. 

“Hi, kutti,” she smiles at her niece, who makes her way meekly to the cushioned bench at the end of the bed.

“Am I interrupting?” She asks, nodding towards the laptop.

“I’ve got a couple of minutes. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to talk,” she plays with the end of the tie of her kimono style robe. 

“I’d love to talk but I have a hop into Zoom for a meeting in ten,” she informs, reaching out to take a sip of coconut water. “But we can talk after.”

“Okay. I’ll get out of your hair then. Have a pleasant meeting.”

“Can you get my blazer on your way out please?” Abi requests.

Layla heads into the walk-in closet to pull out a latte coloured blazer and she hands it to her Aunt, who is now sat straight up on the bed. 

“நன்றி (thanks), kutti.” She shrugs on the coat, and pulls out the banana clip that was holding her hair from her face. Her shiny raven locks cascade down her shoulders and curl at the ends, where it sat atop of her belly. Unfair, Layla thinks as she watches Abi muss up the hair at the scalp to give it that oompf. Layla would kill to look that effortlessly gorgeous. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Layla informs. “Do you want the door open or shut?”

“Open, please. Harry’s coming with?”

“He’s not exactly speaking to me at the moment. Don’t know why but nevermind, you finish your meeting.”

“Don’t forget to take your phone with you then,” Abi tells her.

“It’s already in my pocket!”” 

With that Layla heads to her room to throw on her Panic! At The Disco t-shirt and throws Abi’s faux leather jacket over her shoulder. The black paper bag from Fink’s catches her eye. She sighs, as she pockets the long black box with the gold foil lettering. It's one of the things she loves about her high waisted blue denim boyfriend jeans she’d picked up at a factory outlet sale back home. The jeans did not flatter her pear shaped body the least bit, it was loose around her waist - she’d often need a belt to stop it from riding down, tight around the tops of her thighs, digging into her guts whenever she sat down, but the redeeming factor were the pockets. They were as deep as the mines in Moria; Layla was akin to greedy dwarves throwing it into the shopping cart, when the pocket swallowed half her forearm. 

She locks the door, punches the button to arm the security device but instead of heading over to the house next door, she crosses the road and bimbles her way to the playground in the park and settles herself in an unoccupied swing. Best thing about coming to the playground at three in the afternoon was that there were no snot filled cretins running around wreaking havoc. She pushes her heel on the grimy green and orange chequered rubber foam floor, making herself oscillate to and fro. It’s funny that she’s going to her Aunty for advice when ten years ago, her mother and grandmother swore that she will end up miserable when Vasanth gets married. And as much as she believed that it would happen - it was only logical to her - with stories multiple relatives told her about absolutely losing her shit as a child when her Uncle would pick up another kid to endlessly fixating on some potential ‘fault’ with the other with the marriage proposals that came their way; disliking Abi was one thing that never happened. 

Layla didn’t even get to meet Abi in person until the engagement and wedding dates were fixed. Her grandparents came across her profile and breathed a sigh of relief when they found out that she was tall; it was a right pain to find someone for Vasanths’s towering six foot two. Their families got along well, and much to everyone’s delight Abi and Vasanth got along well over FaceTimes, calls and texts. It didn’t take very long before both the families went to the nearest temple and to fix up wedding dates. Layla had only got a chance to meet Abi’s parents and siblings before the dates were fixed. In hindsight, she suspects it was her mum and her grandmum’s doing to keep her away until she had no option but to be a cavalier. The day she met Abi was one filled with a constant stream of advice from her mum and grandmum since this was someone her Uncle fancied - she was told to be kind, respectful, welcoming, and most importantly to not run her smart mouth. Her grandad had taken her to the shops to get some sweets, and had told Layla that she should get something for her future Aunt. So, she used up some emergency snack money she’d set aside in her wallet and got her a set of these dragonfly pearl earrings and a matching pendant. It wasn’t made of real pearls or gold, it wasn’t the fanciest choice either, she’d bought it in a small fancy store - a small shop that often sold bangles, bindis, kaajal, and some cheap imitation jewellery - but Abi’s reaction indicated that it was the most precious thing that she’d ever received. Layla’s heart warmed when she caught sight of the tarnished, worn out dragonfly pearl necklace in Abi’s jewellery drawer yesterday, when she raided Abi’s closet for the faux leather jacket.

Things only blossomed to fruition after that initial reaction, she can’t recall what they talked about but the conversation flowed. Layla was surprised about how much Abi already knew about her; she was privy to some hilarious antics she’d been up to with Vasanth. Layla had managed to convince Abi to try pineapple on pizza and even told her loads of things that would fetch her brownie points with her Uncle. And by the time her granddad came to pick Layla up several hours later, they’d already planned another meetup but this time at a beach.

Layla's phone buzzes with and a picture of her father fills the screen. It was a picture from Vasanth and Abi’s wedding reception, his phone in hand staring to the side trying to flag off one of the venue managers. One where her father refused to buy a suit and bought a suede jacket, paired it with a sky blue button up and some dark wash jeans - he’d insisted to her and her mum that it was something that James Bond wore in a movie, making the two crack up in response.

“Aren’t you up late?” Layla speaks.

“Amma and I came back from a movie half an hour ago,” he answers.

“What movie?”

“Ponniyin Selvan. Did you all watch it?”

“No. How was it?”

“It’s certainly a spectacle but Amma understood it a lot better than me. I think I need to watch it one more time.”

“Book படித்தது உதவியாக இருக்கும் (reading those novel would have helped).”

“Yes. How did your classes go? Are you finding it easy with the time zone and all?”

“நன்றாக சென்றது (they went really well)! Time zones aren’t bad actually, but it’s only been two days. So I can’t say for sure.”

“Good. பேராசிரியர் உங்களுக்கு கருத்து தெரிவித்தாரா (did the professor give you any feedback)?” Her dad inquires.

“இதுவரை இல்லை (not yet). அநேகமாக professor வார இறுதியில் feedback கொடுப்பார் (she’ll probably will at the end of the week).”

“You do exactly what she says, okay? Incorporate whatever she says. That’s how you show her that you’re a good hire. Kutti, listen, do you remember my friend’s house we went to in Bangalore?”

“Yes. The house with two dobermans,” Layla recalls.

“இன்று அவனிடம் பேசினேன். ஒரு ஐபாட் வாங்க முடியுமா என்று கேட்டார் - (I talked to him today and he asked if you could get him an iPad -)”

“Appa! Do I look like an Apple mule to you all?”

“It’s cheaper there, kutti. And there’s nothing wrong in helping.”

“I’m already carrying five apple products with me. One homepod thing for you, iPad mini for Amma, AirPods for அத்தை (Aunty), and the new phone for my cousin.”

“That’s only four, Layla.”

“You do realise I have to bring my own phone too, right?”

“Oh. Then what’s one more product going to do?”

“Fine, I’ll get your friend the iPad. But if I get detained by the TSA for looking too suspicious with this many Apple products in my carry on. You’re gonna pay.”

Her dad guffaws on the other end. “உன் முகம் கடத்தல்காரன் மாதிரி இல்லை (Your face doesn’t scream smuggler).”

“To you maybe, நான் எப்படி மற்றவைகள் இருக்கிறேன் என்று யாருக்குத் தெரியும் (who knows what I look like to others)?” She laughs.

“சாப்பிட்டாயா (have you eaten)?” He asks.

“Yes. Had gobi fried rice  from the microwave. சித்தப்பா made it before he left for work.” 

“You are helping them out around the house, right? Remember that they are both busy with jobs. I know that they’ll never say this but you make sure to not burden them, especially now with a baby on the way.”

“I am helping. Reorganised the garage and all yesterday. I make sure to cook at least a meal everyday. Clean the house.” She exhales. “That’s more than what I do back home.”

Her dad lets out a laugh. “Now, Amma will hold you to the same standard when you get back. Listen, பாட்டி (grandmum) wants me to remind you to buy Ziplock-”

“Already bought three boxes of her precious ziplock bags.”

“Good. Okay, kutti. I’m gonna head to bed. You take care okay?”

“Will do. Tell Amma I said hi. Bye.”

She hangs up the call, and jumps off the swing; slowly making her way to Harry’s. The pit of the stomach seemed to bubble with nervousness. Hopefully his pisssy mood had lightened since dinner at Earl’s yesterday. She could punch in the security code but the boulder in her stomach only weighs heavier. Decking not to somehow piss him off by walking in, she rings the doorbell. Her feet tap against the white porch, waiting for him, mind racing. Usually he would have opened the door by now. She steps aside to peer into the window and spots no one. No signs of a tall lanky boy making it across the foyer. She presses the doorbell again and holds it down for a few extra seconds for good measure, craning her head to see if his Range Rover is parked in the driveway. The door swings open as she makes a fist to try knocking on it and there he was - clad in one of his muscle tank top that had darkened patchily with sweat, blue shorts, hair pushed back with the blue bandana she’d got, lips  and eyebrows pursed in a grimace.

“Oh god, are you okay?!?” Layla exclaims, zeroing in on the frozen bag of peas he had pressed up against the slope of his shoulder. 

“What do you want?” He grits his teeth, as he looks down at her - a result of the trapezius bundle protesting.

“I just stopped by to - did you hurt yourself working out?” 

“I’m fine,” he winces.

“You clearly are not, earth boy. Let me help,” she states, taking a step forward into the house but finds her boy fixed in place, blocking her. “Harry,” she says firmly, looking into his forest green orbs.

“Did mum ask you to drop something off?” He asks.

“Well no,” she takes in a huge breath, she slides her hand into her pocket, fingers curling around the box. “I’m actually here to see you.”

“I don’t want anyone’s company.”

“Well -” the door shuts on her face, and she feels her heart drop. “I’m not anyone,” she mumbles dejectedly at the wooden door, tears prick the corner of her eyes and she makes her way back to her room. Tossing the gift box on her bedside table. Tearing off a page from her notebook, she scrawls with tears beading her waterline. 

I don’t know what’s happened

Just tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?

She blinks back the film blurring the words on the page, wiping away the tears that landed on the paper. She uses the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks, breathing out slowly. She wipes her nose on the sleeve of her t-shirt.

I understand needing space. But the door slam to my face hurt

That’s all she manages to jot down before her mother’s voice echoes in her head, “சில நேரங்களில் உன்னை விரும்புவது கடினம் (It’s hard to love you sometimes).”

She crushes the paper with the note she was trying to write. It can’t be. Harry himself said the opposite. She abandons the crumpled ball, as she trudges her way up to the home theatre to fire up her PlayStation. All she needs for the next few hours is to mindlessly kill some Valkyries in God of War. She’d finished playing the game’s story days ago and the open world game gave her the opportunity to kill all eight of the valkyries. But she’d soon found out that  killing them was tricky business. What other perfect way is there to channel gamer rage other than using the bubbling anger directed at her boyfriend to kill the remaining two warrior women with wings.

////

“Wait, you actually wanted to get married?” Layla asks, sitting up straighter, tilting her head from side to side until an audible crack is heard.

“Hmm…” Abi smiles at the huff her niece lets out. She had trailed upstairs - after her meeting - to the sounds of Layla shouting ‘சாவு, பன்றி, சாவு (die, pig, die)’ at the projector screen armed with one of her video game controllers.

“You were the perfect daughter weren’t you, Aunty?”

Abi laughs. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t have to negotiate.”

“Go on,” Layla motions with her hand, as she reaches for her water bottle.

“My relatives zeroed in on my parents the minute I graduated from engineering. They initially didn’t give it much thought but then matches actually came home through Aunties and Uncles we knew. They sat me down and asked me if I was seeing someone -”

“Wait! Your parents were okay with a love match?”

“Yup. As long as the boy was Hindu and from our caste,” Abi answers.

“Of course. It came with terms and conditions,” Layla giggles. “As long as they were from the same caste. Could you imagine going around and asking people what caste they belong to when you’re out on a date.”

“I know right! Hella awkward.” She joins in with Layla, giggling away feeling her baby move in accordance. “But I guess it really didn’t matter because I wasn’t opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. I told them I wasn’t in love with anyone but I also asked them to give me three years to get some work experience. I knew I wanted to do an MBA in the US. My parents weren’t on board with my moving abroad alone. They wanted me to have ‘protection’” she explains, making air quotes for the last work.

“Ech,” Layla reacts. “Why are all parents the same? When Vasanth told everyone that he’s gonna prep for his GRE and move to the US for his Masters my grandparents were over the moon. I bet they never even considered his ‘protection.’ Fucking double standards.”

“It enraged me too but I realised it was that or not doing my MBA in the States. I pulled up some of the prerequisites and my parents got to know that the degree needed students to have work experience. After many fights, they finally relented and gave me three years and started looking for matches while I was working.”

“Didn’t that throw you off? Knowing that time was ticking?”

“It did. It made me feel guilty, knowing I needed to have all of these experiences before I got tied down but it melted away when my friends and coworkers started settling down and starting families. They still had the experiences just married and sometimes having those experiences with their significant other; life didn’t stop. It took four years of searching before Vasanth.”

“Four years?!?”

“Yeah,” Abi chuckles. “I didn’t make it easy for my parents either. I had given them a zillion expectations that they needed to meet. I rejected many. Plus, they had to find someone taller than me.”

Layla laughs. “It’s the same thing that happened with Uncle. Finding someone tall enough for him, தாத்தா பாட்டி (grandad and grandmum) almost pulled out their hairs trying to find someone tall.”

Abi laughs. “My dad made so much fun of me on the days leading up to our engagement, because I was running around trying to find heels to try and match his height. I only owned flats prior to your Uncle.”

“How did you know சித்தப்பா (uncle) was the one?”

“There was no one moment. We got along well. He seemed genuinely interested in knowing what I envision my future to look like. Others I talked to often talked about the future in terms of their goals or a collective familial goal. Your uncle asked me what I wanted, rather than ask me what I want as one half of a couple. He was supportive with my MBA plans and work goals too. Seemed open to moving closer to whatever college I got in. That’s how we moved to North Carolina from San Francisco; I got into Kenan-Flagler. I haven’t told him this but when he readily put his notice in and moved to Charlotte with me - before he found himself a job here - he just became so much hotter.” Abi uses one of her hands and fans herself.

“Eww,” Layla grimaces. “Don’t call him hot.”

“Is it a crime to find my husband hot?” She laughs.

“When the husband is my Uncle, yes.” She shivers in disgust. 

“Oh- லேலா உன் கையை கொடு (Layla, give me your hand),” she says urgently, grabbing her palm and pressing it to the side of her ever growing tummy. The baby rewards the two with a jerky roll. “Never gets old,” Abi whispers with a smile blooming. “I initially thought the kick would be like a ping but it’s like a jelly rolling around with her. Getting more active by the day this one.”

“Even Laya agrees with me,” Layla says. Bending down to the active baby, “Don’t worry. I find it weird that she thinks he’s hot too.” She whispers, making Abi laugh at their private conversation.

“You two are gonna team up and make fun of us, aren’t you?” She manages to get out in between fits of laughter.

“Obviously.” Layla’s eyes flicks up to her Aunt’s with the most earnest expression on her face. She settles back into the recliner and lets out an audible sigh. “So is that all it is… I can’t possibly get out of this arranged marriage thing and the best I can do is negotiate.”

“I never said you can’t get out of it, kutti. It will just be an arduous journey to get there but knowing your mum and knowing you're the only girl child - I think the best course of action is to negotiate like I did. If you say no marriage and stand your ground now, what’s to say your mum won’t also resist and force you with that intensity of your refusal. So, don’t say anything, stay out of it. This way your PhD won’t be affected by it.”

“What do you mean PhD not being affected?” Layla sits up, tucking her feet under her thighs.

“I mean, your அம்மா (mum) might just put her foot down and refuse to send you to school -”

“But she can’t do that,’ Layla shakes her head. “I’m an adult and it’s not like I will be financially dependent on them. The colleges that I’ve shortlisted are the ones that are the most likely to give me financial aid.”

“That’s all true,” Abi agrees, taking Layla’s hand. “You were also an adult and financially independent for the Singapore trip, weren’t you? Look what happened. You ended up coming here.”

“So you’re asking me to let things be?” Layla says quietly.

“I’m asking you to consider playing it smart. Don’t worry about all this marriage nonsense. You have your eye on your goal - PhD, don’t get distracted. The time to fight this battle is not now. It took me four years to find a match. Who knows how long it’ll take for you? Maybe you can get your doctorate by that time. If not, don’t worry; one of the perks of an arranged marriage is that it’s democratic. Everyone - or at least most of them -  in the family should agree. Vasanth and I are on your team no matter what. And as for அப்பா, பாட்டி, and  தாத்தா (dad, grandmum and grandad), you can always convince them to join your side. We will not let you discontinue your studies, kutti. I promise. You have no idea how proud we all are that you’re so bloody smart.”

“I’m not that smart and all,” Layla mumbles.

“Hush,” Abi shushes her. “Plus, if you do change your mind on marriage, we all be here to make sure that you are on board with the match. We will not force you to marry someone you do not like. For now let it go. They won’t bother you much until they have matches shortlisted and that itself could take a long while. And we will cross that bridge when we get to it, for now you worry about your PhD applications. ”

“Okay. What you’re saying makes sense. Besides, the application deadlines are on the first of December; it’s not very smart of me to keep fighting this and get distracted. Need to have my eyes on the bigger picture.”

“Are you applying for Chapel-Hill?”

“It’s on the maybe list. Why?”

“Vasanth has been wanting to sit down with you this weekend, to look at the places before you start applying. Get your safety and reach colleges and all in order. He’s been secretly hoping you have UNC at the top of the list, so you can live with us while you study.”

Layla chuckles. “Do you reckon he’s gonna convince me to move Chapel-Hill from the maybe list to the yes list?”

“I’m sure, he’ll try bribing you with all sorts of things,” Abi answers, warmly squeezing Layla’s freezing fingers. “Kutti?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m just saying because I think it’ll be best for you to figure out what you want in terms of a relationship. Especially now that you have Harry to consider too. I heard you tell him the other day that you’re gonna marry him when you were eating the focaccia he baked. And I know it’s not my place to say this but I get that you meant it as a term of expression but sometimes it necessarily might mean the same for him. Have a talk with each other. The sooner the better. I know he means the world to you and I know you mean the same to him.”

“I didn’t think of it that way… I never thought that I’d feel all these things for him. I just thought it’ll be a fun hookup but I guess you’re right. I think he knows that I don’t mean it like that. Whenever we talk about things we know our priorities - colleges. We always talk about the future like it’s distant. I think the hardest thing about January rolling around soon is him. I don’t want to leave,” Layla bites down on her wobbly lower lip. It only makes the angry flames in her chest spark up again because Harry’s being an utter asshole to her. All she wants to do is cosy up to him and drum her fingers down his back as he presses wet kisses on her pulse. 

“Maybe I’m overstepping my bounds but do you ever see yourself getting married or are you just saying no because of what happened between your mum and dad?”

“Oh um,” Layla worries her bottom lip, trying to think things through and lets out a long sigh.

“Bit of both, I think. As much as I respect the sanctity of marriage, I’ve seen it go right and wrong. Sometimes I think I’ll end up just like அம்மா (mum) - you know how everyone says we often butt heads because we have similar personalities - and that means I’d have to go through the same things she did. As much as I do and villanise her sometimes, I honestly don’t think I have an ounce of the strength and determination she does. We lived alone for almost a year and she single handedly took care of all of the finances and even now, she works and does so much work at home too. அப்பா (dad) is not like Uncle, he never does things around the house, except groceries; and on most of the days, I don’t either. But I don’t think I need to get married either, as long as I’m in a long term relationship with someone I trust. It’s just a piece of paper, right? I don’t see it happening for a long long time.”

“Marriage is more than a piece of paper, Layla.”

“Easy for you to say, you and சித்தப்பா (uncle) have the breeziest of marriages,” Layla comments.

“That’s not true, kutti. We hit a rough patch during my final year of my MBA. We even talked about separating,” Abi explains.

“What?” Layla can’t help but gape at her. They were the perfect love birds in her eyes. 

“I don’t know what it’s like universally but with arranged marriages, it’s more companionate, the relationship. You go into it with a stranger, you become friends and then start loving the other. Yes there is passion in there too but it’s more so a companion type thing. We went months leading our own lives, devoid of the other in it. Vasanth was busy working two jobs, and I would be busy with schoolwork and friends. All of the little free time we had went to chores. We went weeks without talking to each other, and didn't even acknowledge each other. It was like two strangers living in a hotel. Every time we’d open our mouths, we’d snap at each other and both thought that things weren't working out because we’d grown apart.”

“Wait, is that when your parents and தாத்தா, பாட்டி (granddad, grandmum) all flew over and stayed in shifts with the two of you for like three months?”

Abi nods. “We’d told our parents that we didn’t see a point in being married and they’d all immediately created an intervention of sorts. They asked us to give it one last try - wholeheartedly - and that they’d take care of things around the house. We signed up for marriage counselling and went to multiple sessions. Since we had our parents taking care of everything else - the minute we came back home after work and school - we would spend time with each other; getting to know each other again from scratch. Marriage is not easy. They don’t just work. You make it work. It’s very easy, at least, with arranged marriages to drift off to your separate paths - be strangers - and it takes work to meet in the middle again. And it needs to be done because you’re growing as your own individual too. That’s how we make it work - we’re not the same Vasanth and Abi who’d agreed to marry each other. We set aside time for ourselves. We talk. Go out on dates. Take holidays. We make each other a priority. It’s work. We are at this point because we put in the work to get here and we will need to put in the work after the baby too.”

“Isn’t it exhausting though? Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Everything in life requires work, Layla. But it's not exhausting with Vasanth. It’s easy to put in the work with him. Because it doesn’t feel like work with him,” she smiles.

“I guess it makes sense. This was a great talk. I should come to you often,” Layla tells her.

“Oh yeah? Finally realised that Abi is like that tortoise from Kung Fu Panda,” her Aunty jokes around.

“Yeah. An old tortoise,” Layla snickers.

“Are you calling me old?” Abi pinches her cheek.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Layla tries to say it earnestly but her giggles give her away. She shuffles closer to her, throwing her hands around her shoulders, slotting her body to the side, mindful of Laya’s residence. “By the way, you didn’t overstep your bounds at all. I’m glad it took you four years to find Uncle because there’s no one else I’d rather have as my Aunty.” 

////

Harry can hear Layla’s voice faintly drifting from the floor above - wrapping up her class - as he makes his way up the stairs to her room. It’s twenty past one in the morning and every time Harry shut his eyes, he couldn’t help but shake the image of her walking back home dejectedly when he slammed the door. When he silently creeks open her bedroom door, he’s hit with a mixture of baby soap and Charlie Red that makes his shoulders slump in relief. Her room is neat - like it always is; there was freshly washed load of laundry that she hadn’t gotten around to folding stacked in an opened suitcase pushed to the corner of her room. What catches his eye was the crumpled ball of paper lying limply at the foot of the bed.

He grinds his teeth at the pain shooting from his shoulder, bending down to pick it up, and his heart falls to his stomach when he reads what she’s scrawled in cursive. Fuck, he shakes his head, plopping down on the mattress.

Layla walks into her room rubbing her eyes, clad in her embroidered Winnie the Pooh t-shirt dress and the kimono robe loosely tied around her waist. “ஹம்மாடி (whew),” she exhales out, looking forward to cosying up in her duvet. Harry can’t help the way the corners of his mouth tug upward - she always grunts out that word when she’s finished with whatever exhausting activity she was engaged in. “Oh,” she mumbles, stopping in her tracks at the sight of him holding on to the letter she wrote.

“Layla, I-” Harry starts.

“No!” She says, voice louder than either of them anticipated, stalking further into the room. “Leave,” she seethes, chest heaving as she rapidly takes in shallow breaths, clicking the door close to not wake Vasanth and Abi. “I don’t care. Just go.”

Harry gets up. “Baby, please listen to me.”

Layla steps back - out of his reach - shooting him a warning glare that told him to not get closer to her. “I don’t know what’s up, but you’ve done nothing but be an asshole to me -”

“I’m sorry that I’ve hurt yo-”

Layla chuckles. “The hurt ship has sailed. I’m fucking livid!” She blinks back the angry tears that begin to prick her eyes. “Please just leave! I’ve had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.”

Harry’s eyes blur as a thin film beads at his waterline, and he’s quick to blink them away before they have the chance to trickle down. The last thing he wants to do is upset her further, so he sighs and mutters, “Okay. I’ll go.” He makes his way to the door with his head hung dejectedly.

“Wait,” Layla calls out, quickly rummaging through her bedside table to find the long black box. “This is why I came over in the afternoon before you so kindly slammed the door on my face,” she says, voice dropping an octave lower. “Take it and fucking go,” she throws the suede box in his direction. 

Harry’s hands lift up to catch it in reflex but the second the box lands on his palm, he lets out a loud grunt, face twisting in pain from the muscles of his shoulder. “Christ,” he bites, as the other hand - one that’s not holding the box - cups over the spot of affliction.

Layla’s eyes soften, instinctively stepping closer to him. “Shit. Your shoulder still hurts?” She enquires, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he gives her a weak nod. “Go wait downstairs in the kitchen… I’ll be right behind you,” she exhales.

“But…” he trails off, not knowing what exactly to say when she’d just asked him to leave a few seconds ago. When he blinks his eyes open to examine her face, she’s already stalked off to the bathroom when he can hear her meddling with her stuff. He takes a deep breath in, hoping it quells the pain, and calls out to her. “Okay.”

He sits on the bar stools, gently placing the black box on the kitchen island, as she walks in. He watches her beeline towards the microwave, taking a small bowl from the cabinet, Harry examines the two glass containers she’d placed on the island. A hexagonal glass jar with a copper lid that reads Tiger Balm and a green cylindrical container that reads  Monison’s. 

“Can you take off your hoodie for me?” Layla asks, as she spoons some of the brown and green balm into the bowl.

Harry slowly slips off his grey hoodie, watching her punch in thirty seconds on the panel and shuts the door. Layla steps over to the pantry, coming out with a tiny blue chequered cotton kitchen towel. She takes the melted mixture from the microwave when it beeps, using the spoon to stir it together. She dips her pinky in to check if the liquid is not scalding, and proceeds to sink her fingers in the murky looking concoction. 

The room is filled with scents of herbs, camphor and eucalyptus as she slowly lets the liquid drip down from her fingertips onto his defined shoulder blade. “Sorry about the smell,” she tells him quietly as she kneads his muscles in circles - easing the taunt muscles under. 

Harry’s speechless as she works her way down his shoulder and back, letting the warm liquid trickle down and later gently rubbing it all over. He doesn’t deserve this from her, especially with the way he’s treated her the past two days. But here she is carefully working the knots in his shoulder, even after asking him to leave her sight. He feels his heart weigh heavy in his throat, and he closes his eyes to succumb to the emotions his girlfriend’s tender act stirs up in his chest.

“Once in basketball practice, these huge fifth graders tripped and two of them managed to fall right on my arm. I was in so much pain that I thought it was fractured but it wasn’t. And Amma (mum) did this for me and I swear the pain subsided the next day, which I know is not possible but I barely felt it after. I mean it’s just pain gate theory, right?” She waffles on hoping to distract him from the pain she might be causing him as she massages the last of the liquid on the expanse of his shoulder. When she’s done she quickly washes her hands before she takes the clean towel and presses the button on the sink tap for hot water. Once it’s dripping wet she wrings the excess liquid out; opening it up and flapping it twice for good measure, when she’s satisfied she drapes the toasty damp towel over his clavicle and smooths it down his shoulders. “Sometimes I think I’ll perish if I don’t have a jar of Tiger Ba-” she stops where she hears a sniffle, followed by a shaky inhale and feels his frame tremble under her palm.

“Harry? Shit.” Layla rounds the corner to stand in front of him. “Hey,” she coos, gently tilting his chin up using her thumb and pointer finger. Moss green eyes gleam up at her under the buttery overhead lamp, a broken shudder follows as tears trickle down his face, and Layla realises that he’s hurting. He’s been hurting the past two days and that he wasn’t apathetic and detached. 

“Oh honey,” Layla says soothingly, thumbs coming to wipe away the hot tears that stream down his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - Sorry,” he blubbers, pulling her close to him, burying his face in her midsection as his arms hold her in place.

Layla wraps her arms around his head, one hand caressing his scalp and the other tracing circle on his cheek, “Shh. Har, you’re okay.” She presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m -,” he hiccups, a fresh wave of tears halting him and all he could do was nuzzle into her warmth as he bawls.

“We’re okay. You’re okay. Let it out. I’m sorry too, babe,” she whispers, mollifying him as she rocks him to and fro, letting him cry it out.

Harry pulls back, with broken shudders, sniffling, blinking at the dark patch on her t-shirt dress from his tears. “I - I uh - came -,” he breathes out between empty sobs. “I saw the tickets for the carnival,” he says with a weak smile.

“Yeah? You wanna go?” She asks, sitting down on the stool next to him, slotting her knees between his and scooting closer to the edge to weave their hands together.

He nods, looking up at her shyly through wet lashes. “I’m sorry.” He says, rapidly blinking down another fresh set of tears.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, hand coming to caress his cheek.

“Why?” He chuckles. “I’m the one in the wrong.”

“It wasn’t very nice of me to ask you to leave and throw that at you,” she points to the forgotten black box on the counter.

“You were angry.” He shrugs. “When did you manage to slip the tickets in my wallet?”

“When you were busy fiddling with the record player at Earl’s.” Layla worries her bottom lip, not knowing how to phrase her next question. “Why were you so cold to me?”

The question only makes Harry tilt his head to the side, as he tries to weigh the answer in his mind. “I uh - I was jealous,” he replies, cheeks reddening in response.

Layla snorts out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the words that had stumbled out of the messy beheaded boy’s slightly pouty mouth. She slaps down on his wrist as she guffaws, driving her emphasis further. “Harry,” she gets out. “Be seriou- oh!” She stops in her tracks when she’s met with his earnest gaze. “Jealous of what though?”  

“Ashwin,” he admits, feeling the blood rush to the tips of his ears as he hangs his head.

“Why would you be jealous of Ashwin?” She asks.

“It’s just - It’s like - Like you getting into his car this morning and just driving away,” he explains.

“You make it sound weird. You know we were meeting up with the others at the golf course.” She swallows. “Do you not trust me?”

It doesn’t escape Harry that she’s now leaning away from him, and the hands that were holding him, now were crossed protectively over her chest. “I do! It’s a me thing. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t understand. How am I not supposed to take it personally?” She barks offensively, eyebrows arching. “Harry, I’ve met the girl you were hooking up with! Do you see me getting jealous and throwing a fit whenever you take me to the lookout point in Chapel Hill? No, because it was before us and I trust you. Ashwin is literally an acquaintance and you throw a hissy fit for days because I hitched a ride to him to the golf course. That’s fucking stupid!”

“Hissy fit,” Harry chuckles, and it only makes Layla shoot daggers as she glances up at him. 

“I cannot believe it. Fucking jealous,” she continues and she isn’t sure if the last past was directed at herself. “Your mum told me that you tend to latch on to people but I didn’t expect you to be possessive. I don’t know if I’m okay with that.” She shakes her head, hand coming to frustratedly rub at her forehead. “How are we gonna work through this? What are you gonna say next? ‘Let me mark my territory when you hang out with others, like how a dog would do?!?’” She shuts her eyes, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths through her nose so she would raise her voice and wake her Aunty and Uncle. She knows she’s spiralling and spewing out ridiculous things but she can’t help but feel hurt by his admission. 

“Have I -” she says softly looking up at him, “did I do something to make you feel that way?” 

“No, baby. No. It’s not you!” He sits up cupping her face cursing himself for making her doubt herself. “It’s just,” his voice breaks as the tears well up in his jade irises, “every time I see you two hanging out, it makes me insecure and I didn’t like feeling like the second best again.”

“Again?”

“It’s stupid,” he sniffles.

“It’s clearly not stupid if it’s hurting you,” she reminds him.

“I’m just scared that you’ll realise he’ll give you something I can’t.” He confesses. “Like you don’t need to check if a Tamil movie has subtitles at the cinema to watch with him, he gets all the references you make, you don’t have to translate things in your head or explain why you’re doing certain things - like the other day when you accidentally stepped on my book and you’d stopped talking to bend down to touch it and bring your fingers to your eyes and you’d spent the next twenty minutes explaining why for me. And it’s scary to think that one day you’ll realise that I’m not worth it and leave.”

“Babe,” Layla frowns. “I don’t think that at all. If anything, all those instances only makes me endeared that you’re curious about where I come from, plus, you actively participate in them. It works both ways too. You taught me so much about your home too. I didn’t know what a chip butty was before I met you,” she jokes weakly. Harry doesn’t laugh - or even smile - instead he looks crestfallen, Layla leans over and stamps a soft kiss on his pink lips and his splotchy cheeks. “I’ll never not think you’re not worth it. Ever. You mean the world to me. You make me feel safe and you make me feel loved. And that is something I will not take very lightly. Ever. I have nothing like that with Ashwin. I hitched a ride with him the other day because everyone else was gonna shower at the country club and head straight for work. Ashwin had a day off and obliged to drive me to Raleigh to pick something up for you,” she tells him, nodding towards the black box. “Besides, he acts like he’s from the hood sometimes - I guess most brown boys do that when they come here; pretend to be an African American rapper. It just does not get my motor running like you in a pair of fishnets.”

There’s a lingering undercurrent of teasing in her voice towards the end that makes Harry smile - the ones where he flashes his teeth and it makes the dimples carve out in his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have been cold to you. That was wrong of me. I should have come and talked it out with you. I cannot apologise enough for that,” he resolutely tells her.

“It was,” Layla agrees. “I did not deserve to be treated that way. I thought you were mad at me or that you needed space which is very unlike you. Because I’m the one that pushes you away-”

“Not in the way that I did. You always told me that you need some time to yourself before you share but I just pushed you away.”

“True,” Layla sighs. “Would inviting you along help whenever I go out with that gang? I’m not gonna stop hanging out with them because I feel like I’m hanging out with my cousins. And I’m trying to make the best out of that because they’re gonna fly out as soon as the wedding is over.”

“That’ll be nice. I sorta felt left out when you went to watch that movie without telling me because I’m really used to being your number one go-to person for everything,” he admits.

“I understand that you felt left out but I didn’t invite you because the movie didn’t have subtitles and I didn’t want you to be bored because of me. It would have helped if you told me earlier. We could have gone to the cinema - just us - and made a date night out of it.”

“I didn’t want to seem clingy I guess.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Layla questions and Harry nods. “You said earlier about not wanting to feel second best again. Has it got something to do with your dad? I mean you don’t talk about it and I’m just theorising but feel free to tell me to back off if I’m crossing a line.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if he chose us. He was a good dad, Layla. He was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. But I guess, I was not enough for him with anything I did,” his lower lip wobbles. “He’d had another family and I guess in the end my step-siblings - god,  it’s so weird to call them that - had something that I didn’t and when he figured it out he’d just left mum and me.”

“Harry,” Layla whispers, arms wrapping around his torso to pull him into an embrace. Harry nuzzles his face into the crook of her shoulder, chest shuddering as he takes in his favourite scent. It made sense to Layla now - his icy behaviour was not to attack her but to protect him, his inner child. She had the power to make him feel the things he once felt, and the second Harry realised that she held the power; when he felt ‘not enough,’ he’d cut her off so she wouldn’t put him through that - like a hedgehog balling themselves up and straightening out it’s quills when it senses his predators were nearby. “Babe, I’m so sorry you went through that. Those choices were your fathers - an adult. You in no way played a role in the shitty choices he made. You were a child, babe, and it’s not your job to make yourself the best option for your parents. Remember when you told me love is not a burden?” She can feel him nod against her neck. “Love shouldn’t be earned either. It’s not conditional - especially from a parent.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, crying again, but this time it’s tears of relief. “You know,” he chuckles, pulling back to wipe his eyes. “Earl said something along the same lines.”

“He’s a wise man,” Layla says. “How’s your shoulder? Is the warm towel and தைலம் (pain balm) helping?”

“It is. Thank you.”

“No need for thank yous. I’d take care of you anytime,” she shrugs.

“So you made Ashwin drive to Raleigh to get me something?” He questions, stretching out to grab the black velvet box.

“Uh huh.” She smiles. “I got a commission from this woman. She wants three still life oil portraits of her favourite food for her kitchen. She’s paying me three fifty dollars for each. So, I’d figured I’d treat you with something.” She nods to the box. “Open it.”

Harry’s fingers trace the gold foiled lettering - Fink’s -  against the soft material. He flips the box open to find a dainty gold chain and a thin cross pendant hanging from it of the same metal. It looked identical to the silver one he’d have around his neck - he’d go on a limb and say this one looked even more beautiful. He immediately looks into her homey raven eyes, bottom lip trapped with her teeth, as she looks at him expectantly.

“I know I ripped it off your neck that day,” her face flushes with heat thinking back to their lecherous activity upstairs in the swing room in front of his giant ornate mirror. “I’ve been feeling bad since. I’ve never ever seen you take it off and when I got the deposit money for the commissions, it was the first thing I thought of. I wanted to get you an exact replica but I just couldn’t bring myself to get it in silver, so I called Fink’s and had them make it gold. You kept complaining that the clasp on the old one was too tiny, so I asked them to use a circular clasp, so it’s easier for you.” She rambles. “They said they couldn’t make the chain dainty in 22 karats, something about them not able to get the metal to bend, so it’s only 18 kara-”

Harry cuts her off with a passionate kiss, hands clutching her cheeks holding her close, as he pours his devotion. His tongue melds with hers and it makes her breathe out a quiet moan, as she sinks his fingernails into his bicep. He breaks apart, pressing his forehead to hers as they both catch their breath from the dizzying ordeal. “I love it! Put it on for me?” He asks her, thumb caressing her bottom lip, making her smile.

////

Bright blue powdery skies can be deceiving, especially in North Carolina. While Layla usually dressed up in her lightest cotton clothes with skies like this, today she’s tugging the drawstring around the hood of Harry’s hoodie to protect herself from the nippy breeze that blows through. Once she’s done securing the hood in place by knotting it under her chin, so the frigid air caused by a hurricane in Florida won’t freeze her ears off.

She kicks up the basketball that was at her feet, dribbling it up the driveway towards the garage door where her Uncle had screwed in a hoop. She jogs to it, gasping for a breath of air as she spins, tossing the ball above her head towards the net when she faces the street. She turns around expectantly to watch the ball kiss the rim as it tumbles into the basket but huffs when it bounces off the ring towards the hydrangea bushes.

“Ugh,” she groans, trudging behind it and when she’s picking it up she feels a sharp swat to her ass. “Hey! Not nice!” She squeals at Harry, turning around to face him.

“Not so nice when someone spanks you now, is it?” He laughs, clutching a pair of headphones in his hands. He’s dressed in his workout gear - brown trousers with a spatter of gold paint he’d managed to get when he helped her paint the ornate frame of his mirror. It cuts off at his knees, exposing his si no and oui and non tattoos. It baffles her that he’s not freezing while she’s been having goosebumps wearing sweatpants. He’s in one of his full arm length muscle hugging athletic t-shirts, with a hoodie tied around his waist.

“I don’t do it hard,” she replies.

“Well my stinging ass cheek would beg to differ.”

Layla rolls her eyes at his dramatic flair. “What are you doing up so early? I thought you were not gonna work out until your shoulder is better.”

“My better is better but I’m not gonna work out for the rest of the week and fuck up my muscles. Just going out on a walk. What are you doing up at seven in the morning?” He asks.

“Had a review meeting with my department head at four about my first week. Couldn’t go back to sleep after,” she shrugs. “I was scrolling on Instagram and I came across this trick shot on this basketball page where people run up to the net, do a spin and throw it in. Been trying to do that for an hour now and I’m nowhere close to nailing it,” she frowns, nodding to the ball she’s stationed against her hip.

“I could just lift you up and spin you around,” he suggests.

Layla laughs. “Cute that you think you can lift- aaah!” She shrieks as Harry quickly squats down, to grab the junction where her bum and thighs meet, hoisting her up.

“You were saying?” He arches his eyebrow up at her.

“Put me down,” she demands as he makes his way to the hoop.

“Nope. Make this backwards basket and come on a walk with me around the pond.”

He positions her right in front of the hoop and she’s hoisted up high up that the end of the net touches the top of her head. “I’m not supposed to face the net, you idiot,” she giggles.

“Alright then,” he turns them both around towards the street and marches down to the end of their driveway. Layla spots Nandhini Aunty right away, standing right in front of her open garage door, staring at the two with a cardboard box in her hand.

Layla tosses the ball and Harry turns them around to watch it perfectly go into the net, making him hoot and spin her around in celebration. They both laugh as Harry loosens his arms around her thighs making Layla slide down his torso. She doesn’t stop giggling as she wraps her around his neck, fingers massaging the baby curls at the nape of his neck, as she rubs her nose against his - feet still dangling above the ground as he holds her in place. “I like this trick shot so much better,” she whispers.

“Nandhini’s watching,” he mumbles, reminding her of her PDA rule around brown aunties, as she angles her head.

“Fuck her,” whispers with a smirk as her eyelids flutter close and she closes the distance between their lips.

  LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!    

[pyxisastronautica]

Do you have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? Do you go out of your way to always wear it when you can? Why is it your favorite? (To all)

Q: Oh, yeah! We all got to pick out one outfit as a sort of bon voyage present, courtesy of our roboticists!

E: They could be...sentimental like that, at times.

Q: Mine is a just big black hoodie. It's really cozy and soft.

E: ...My blue dress shirt. I'd like to think it's a nice color on me.

L: Mine is a hoodie too, my trainer stitched it together. It is made of brown pleather with green synthetic fur trim.

W: Cowboy hat, naturally! I think Papa's is that Cap'n hat he got from Yuma, and Yuma's is that studded black vest. Surprised Admiral let 'er keep that.

U: Everyone in Security has very smart dress uniforms! UwU

B: Purple bowtie. It is unique!

C: Pencil skirt. It's professional.

G: Golf cap. What can I say?

H: Kinda taking to this hard hat.

K: Same? It's fun to butt heads with someone with it on.

N: I have a fall leaf pin. n_nb

I: Goggles, for safety reasons.

F: Goggles, because they are DASHING! (Get it?)

X: Gloves maybe. Keeps my joints clean.

D: Pants with many pockets. S: Pants with many pockets.

J: Sky blue overcoat, darling. I rock it.

R: A silk rose pin, it's very elegant.

T: My cavalier hat. It's rather striking, no?

A: I have a tie that has the Script to Hamlet printed on it in extremely fine print.

Z: Mine has the notes to Hymn to Nikkal.

[jimmydemaret]

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[xgryffinwhore]

september nights

request:  i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.” 

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.” 

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door,  feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you. 

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you. 

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations. 

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

 you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed. 

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne. 

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special. 

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again. 

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good  bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his. 

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek. 

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers. 

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs. 

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

[vendettaparker]

Peanut Butter and Extra Jelly [T.H]

Summary: Tom’s long time crush on you becomes painful when you and Harrison are cast as love interests in a movie. 

Paring: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader 

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: Suggestive themes, fake smut (very light), jealousy, probably some typos, swearing 

a/n: i have no idea how filming a movie, or auditioning for one actually goes so don’t crucify me for this. i’m pretty happy with how this turned out, especially considering that this is the most i’ve ever written for a fic. also, Burt Kreisher is one of my fav comedians in real life, he has 3 shows on neflix and a mini series.  

                      ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     Tom was not a jealous person. At least, that's what he always told himself. He prided himself in thinking he was a very level headed individual who didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. That worked best for his job anyways; always being able to control his emotions and not get in his own head. That simple, pacifistic mindset seemed to change when it came to you. 

      You were one of the many actors Tom got the pleasure to help hone their technique and work closely with. You were new to the lifestyle of Hollywood and the only roles you had before were in small indie films that never garnered too much attention. The first major role that you landed, which also happened to help kickstart your career, was in the MCU. You played the secondary villain in the third Spider-man movie. 

     Meeting the cast was a dream come true; they were all extremely helpful and they provided tons of tips and tricks in navigating the hectic schedule required for such a huge production. By the time filming wrapped up, you were considered part of their little Spider-man family. 

     Tom was easily the most helpful. Whenever he saw you struggling with anything, he offered to help. You two spent hours upon hours together in his trailer, ordering take out and practicing lines. Some nights you two planned to work through your script, but inevitably ended up falling asleep binge watching The Office, and laughing about crazy shit that happened on set that day. 

     When the movie wrapped up and you went home for a month before the press tour, you were completely unsure and nervous about what direction your career was going in. You auditioned for a few new movies, but had yet to hear from any of the directors about casting decisions. You kept in touch Tom during the month you were apart and expressed your concerns. 

     “I don’t know, Tom. I’m just so sick of waiting around and hoping that some director out there throws me a bone, ya know’?” You said on facetime, while making cookies. 

     “Yeah, I totally understand that, (Y/N/N). I had that issue a couple years ago before the Marvel movies. Trust me, you did outstanding in that role and once it gets noticed I’m positive you’ll have directors calling you, begging for you to audition.” Tom smiled warmly into the camera as he walked around his apartment in London. 

      “Yeah, easy for you to say, movie-star.” You giggled, turning your face away from the camera in hopes that Tom wouldn’t notice the blush his compliments painted onto your cheeks 

     “I’m serious! You were outstanding! Like in that one scene where you—” 

      “Tom! Tessa chewed a hole in my trousers again!” A voice came from outside of the frame, “Mate, you gotta get her to stop doing that somehow.” 

     Tom sighed, and waved his hand dismissively at the figure, “Okay, sure. I’m busy right now.” Tom looked back to the camera, “anyways, as I was saying, don’t stress about not having a new project yet, (Y/N)—” 

     “(Y/N)?” The other voice whisper-yelled. “Let me say hi!”, suddenly the phone was yanked out of Tom's hands and the video shook around a bit as Tom wrestled to get it back. Finally, the camera stilled and Harrison was on the other end smiling. “Hi, (Y/N)!” 

     “Oh, hi Harrison!” You smiled back, laughing. You'd met Harrison a few times when he visited Tom on set. “How are you?” 

     The camera started moving around more as the background behind Harrsion whizzed past. You assumed Tom must’ve been chasing him to get the phone back. 

     “I’m good! I just auditioned for a new movie. You should audition too! The main female lead’s description looks just like you.” He exclaimed, running past the kitchen to his room. 

     “Oi! Give me my phone back you div!” You heard Tom yelling in the background, no doubt in hot pursuit of Harrison. 

     “I don’t know, I'm not sure I’m prepared for a lead role.” You sighed, “What’s the movie called? I’ll look into it.” 

     “It’s called ‘Collateral Damage’, it’s a spy movie.” Harrison said, shutting the door to his room, while Tom pounded on it from the other side. “Yeah, it’d be really fun working with you. Tom constantly talks about how much fun you are on set.” Harrison wheezed out, trying to catch his breath. 

      “Aw, that’s sweet of him.” You laughed. “Well I’ve got to go. Just tell Tom he can call me tomorrow or something.” You waved at the camera. “Bye!”

     “Yup, bye.” Harrison said right before the video cut out. 

      Harrison finally opened the door to a seething Tom. Tom grabbed the phone back from Harrison and noticed that the call had ended. 

     “Dude! Why would you do that?” Tom whined. 

     Harrison just patted Tom’s back, “Sorry, mate. She said she had to go, though. I was about to give the phone back.” 

     Tom huffed and sulked for a moment. “Whatever, I’ll just call her later, I guess.” 

     Harrison nodded and smirked at how whipped Tom was. “You should just ask her out if you’re so desperate for her attention.” Harrison teased. 

     “Shut up. I’m not desperate for her attention, I just like her voice and her personality, and the way she talks, and her funny sayings, and how her hair looks when she just woke up.” 

                      ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     It was only a few days later when you received an email from the director of the movie Harrison told you about, asking for you to audition. You were ecstatic, Harrison must’ve already sent in some things about you since the director seemed adamant that you were of high interest for the role. 

     You called Tom immediately to share the good news. 

     He picked up after the third ring, “Hello, darling! How are you?” he beamed when he answered your call. He usually was the one to call you so he felt a sense of pride knowing that you were calling him for once. 

     “Tom! The director of the movie Harrison auditioned for just emailed me asking for me to audition!” You squealed excitedly. 

     “Really? That’s wonderful, love! Harrison just got the part of the lead too, so you’d be filming with him if you got it.” 

     “That’s so exciting, I’m flying to London for the audition in two days. Are you still there?” You pulled the phone away from your ear and switched it to speaker. “I’m booking the flight right now.” 

     “Yeah, I’ll be in London for another week and a half. Then we have the press tour starting in Japan.” Tom said, also switching to speaker phone to look at his calendar. “You can stay with Harrison and I while you’re here. Since we have to go to Japan together anyways.” Tom offered nervously. He really wanted you to stay in his flat with him. It’d be all cute and domestic, and maybe, just maybe, he’d spend enough time with you to not feel nervous about asking you on a date. If he was lucky, that is, but awaiting your reply he was a jittery ball of nerves. 

     “Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I won't be intruding though, right?” You said, smiling from ear to ear. Thank god you weren’t on facetime and Tom couldn’t see the stupid smile adoring your features. 

     “No, of course not. Harry will be so excited to see you. And Tessa too, she really misses you.” Tom shuffled around with his phone, shooting a quick text to Harrison letting him know you were coming to stay for a week. 

     “Ok, thanks so much, this is really thoughtful of you. I absolutely can’t wait to see you!” You gushed, finalizing your purchase of a one-way ticket to London. “K, the flight is at 2:30 pm here, it’s about 9 and a half hours, but you’re also ahead of me, so I’ll be in around..5?”

     “Yeah, that sounds right to me,” Tom chuckled, “I’ll come pick you up. I’ll wear my incognito disguise.” 

     “If you mean that stupid t-shirt you got that says ‘I’M NOT A CELEBRITY’, then maybe I’ll ask Harrison to come pick me up…”

     “That’s cold (Y/L/N).” 

     You giggled softly, “I’m sorry, Tommy. If it makes you feel better, that shirt isn’t as bad as that stupid blue beanie that you never wear correctly.”

     “How the fuck would that make me feel better? You’re killing me, (Y/N/N).” 

     You laughed at his over dramatic reaction, “Sorry that you’re a sensitive babe. I gotta go now, see you soon!” You hung up before Tom could respond with a sassy quip. Then immediately after you received a text:

Tommy: The second you get here I’m bout to 👊 

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     Tom called Harrison up after you got off the phone, he needed to make sure his best friend wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass him in front of you. 

     “Tom, don’t you think this is a bit obsessive? I mean, she’s only staying with us for a week and you already know her so well from spending all that time filming with her.” Harrison sighed, sick of listening to Tom ramble about every possible embarrassing situation he could be put in, in the coming week. 

     “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It's no big deal. But don’t mention that time I accidentally shit my pants at the club, or that time I got hit in the head with a golf ball ‘cus I got distracted by a flock of geese, or that time a got chased by a flock of geese, or—”

     “Geez, mate. At this point we might as well not even talk to her.” Harrison chuckled, thinking of all the stories he could bring up about Tom around the dinner table with you. Tom really was just a walking ball of embarrassing moments. 

     “Stoppp ittt,” Tom whined, “when we were on set it was usually just the cast and Harry around, but you? You could do some real fucking damage to my love life, Haz.” 

     “What love life?” Harrison barked out, laughing. 

     Tom then hung up and began praying to whatever god was out there that this week could go by without a hitch, and then you and him would be on your way, together, to Japan. 

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     The whole week spent in London actually went really well, especially the audition. Tom and Harrison both accompanied you for moral support, well Harrison actually had to be there to be your scene partner, but it was still nice knowing he supported you. 

     The director shook your hand and you went through the normal formalities before beginning your scene with Harrison. It was a quick scene with a monologue in it. The main premise of the movie was all about choosing love over work, especially in dangerous, life-threatening scenarios. The scene you used to audition with Harrison was the scene where the main character, Lincoln, and his lover interest, Mallory, were arguing, trying to push each other away to keep each other safe. The scene had a lot of raw emotion that you were able to tap into, and the directors gave your performance a standing ovation once the scene concluded. 

     They said that they’d get back to you within the next few days, but they also mentioned how the chemistry between you and Harrison was off the charts, leaving you hopeful. Tom and Harrison both gave you hugs and pats on the back. Tom had watched the whole scene unfold and he was in complete and utter awe of your talent. Part of him was annoyed that he didn’t audition for the movie and a chance as your love interest. But Harrison deserved this big break and so did you, so he was hopeful of the outcome being something that benefitted both of his best friends. 

    After the audition the rest of the week went by nearly perfectly. The real kicker was when Tom’s family invited you and Harrison to join them for dinner. Tom had not anticipated his mom asking you to come to family dinner, so he wasn’t able to stop the embarrassing anecdotes his mom told on his behalf. 

     “Tom had the cutest little tush,” Nikki exclaimed, placing the old homemade scrapbook in your lap and flipping through a couple of pages. “See look,” she happily pointed to a picture of Tom as a toddler in a bath, surrounded by bubbles, his little bum poking through them. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably on the sofa next to you, cringing at the now 21 year old photo of him. He expected you to also cringe along, or worse case scenario, get up and make a flimsy excuse to leave his crazy family, but you just chuckled along with Nikki and continued making your way through the scrapbook, making little comments here and there. 

     “Oh, and this one,” Nikki said, pointing to a photo of Tom crying and Sam holding up a superhero action figure triumphantly, “that was Tom’s favorite toy, but when Sam saw how much Tom liked it, he made an effort to always be playing with it when Tom came into the room and he wouldn’t share.”

     You giggled at the little whiny face Tom made in the picture, and turned to him, replicating it on your face, making fun of him. Tom laughed along and playfully shoved you. He adored how well you seemed to fit in with his family and his feelings for you only multiplied. 

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     The week in London was one of the best in your life. You didn’t realize how much you missed Tom until you got to the airport and he was there waiting for you, unfortunately in his stupid blue beanie, and no, it wasn’t on right, his big ears poked out of it horrendously. 

     The last day you had in London before you and Tom went to Japan, you finally received a call about the audition. The director called you to congratulate you on getting the part, and he sent you numerous emails about scheduling, where to be, and when. Harrison was elated to have a familiar face playing his love interest on screen, and Tom was over the moon excited for you, this on top of the Spider-man movie coming out, you were certainly becoming a force to be reckoned with. 

     You spent the night celebrating at a club, Harry and Sam also showed up to party with you. The night was still young and the club was already packed and in full swing. Tom ordered two shots for each of you to start off the night before he was whisked away by a few fans to sign autographs. When he didn’t return you took it upon yourself to have his shots, giving you an extra edge to help spice up your night. 

     Harrison found Tom in the corner of the club talking to some fans. But throughout his whole time taking pictures with them, he couldn’t help but glance at you every once and a while. You looked so carefree and beautiful, dancing around in your shiny silver top and leather leggings. 

      “Tom.” Harrison interrupted Tom’s gawking and directed his attention to the small group of fans Tom was with. 

     Tom nodded and finished up his pictures and autographs before wishing them all a good and safe night. Once he reached you, you engulfed him in a bone crushing hug. 

     “Thank you for such a great time in London, Tommy.” you slurred, already feeling the impact of the four shots you took. “I had the best time of my whole life.” You pecked his cheek and pulled him close to dance with you. 

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     The following month or so on the press tour was a once in a lifetime experience. You travelled to more cities than you even knew the name of and you had all of your friends by your side. More so, you had motivation to remain approachable and well liked by fans considering that you were moving up in the industry. Some interviews were mostly for Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. Your role in the movie was big enough for you to be needed for some interviews, and most people were genuinely interested in getting to know you, but there were also a handful of press activities that you weren’t included in, which you didn’t mind. 

     When you didn’t have anything to do for an hour or so, you would text Harrison and send him funny memes. He was quickly becoming one of your closest friends; you had already created a surplus of inside jokes with him just over the phone. 

     Tom noticed how you were always laughing at your phone or rapid fire texting. Even when you were being interviewed, Tom could faintly hear the buzz of your text message notifications going off. 

     “Tom,” you snapped in front of his eyes, “did you need something?” 

     “Huh?” Tom blinked a few times, “Uh—no, sorry.” Tom’s cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed for having been caught staring at you. He couldn’t help it though, you were dressed so pretty that day. You had your hair done up in two bubble braids and you wore his pink sweatshirt over your yellow sundress. 

     “Okay then.” You smiled at him. You went back to your phone, reading what Harrison had just texted you. “What was the name of that comedian we watched the other night?” 

     “The one on Netflix?” 

     You hummed out a yes, tapping away at your phone. 

     “Burt Kreisher, why?” Tom asked, leaning over to your chair to try and catch a glimpse of who you were texting. When he saw the contact name “Hazzy”, he couldn't stop the little angry pit of jealousy that started in his stomach. Sure, you were here with him now, not with Harrison, but when you two were apart you also texted him nonstop, and the texts seemed to all be inside jokes, which was something you also shared with him that he held near and dear.

     “I made a joke referencing him to Harrison and he didn’t get it. Fucking nerd.” You chuckled, texting Harrison a link to the skit you were referring to. 

     Tom chuckled along, but he couldn’t help but frown slightly at how bright your smile was when Harrison replied. 

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     The press tour and premiere of the movie seemed to go by lighting fast. You’d never been to a premiere for a production this big, and your nerves for the red carpet were starting to get to you. 

     You and Zendaya were stuffed into a hotel room with both of your respective teams, both trying to rapidly get both of you ready for the event. 

     “So when do you start filming for your next project?” Zendaya asked, she sat in front of a broadway-equse mirror, bright bulbs of light giving a luminescent glow to her already near flawless complexion. She hadn’t even finished her makeup yet and she was so pretty.  

     “In a month, I have to go back to London next week.” You said, sifting through the opinions you brought for dresses. You brought three options, just in case you changed your mind after seeing yourself in the dress. “Harrison and I are going to go over the scripts together and we were also told to go out in public a few times; for press and whatnot.” 

      “That’s exciting!” Zendaya mused, she glanced at the clock and gave her hairdresser some instructions about how much time she had to do hair. “It’s a good thing you guys are already friends. I remember when I filmed ‘The Greatest Showman’ I didn’t know many of the actors personally, so we had to go out together and do press all while being almost strangers. It was a bit nerve wracking.” Zendaya smiled at you fondly, she was like an older sister to you during this whole movie-making process, she constantly had your back. 

     “Yeah, I mean I’ll probably be in a situation like that at some point, but for my first lead role it’s nice to be working opposite a friend.” You smiled back, finally deciding on the red, sequined dress. 

     You both sat and worked through the makeup process in comfortable silence. 

     “So you and Tom…” Zendaya broke the silence and looked at you with a smirk on her face. 

     “What?” You looked at her with a dumbfounded look, before nervously laughing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N/N).” She poked your arm and laughed, “He’s literally obsessed with you.” 

     You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. A movie star, and very famous movie star at that, obsessed with you? You? Impossible. 

     “Yeah no, sorry but you got the wrong girl, babe.” You sighed, pulling out your phone to snap and selfie with her for your instagram story. You quickly snapped a pic of the two of you, her kissing your cheek, leaving a small, faint lipstick mark. “I mean it’d be nice,” you back tracked, “but I’m sure that’s just my wishful thinking.” 

     “What wishful thinking? I thought you were a pessimist?” Zendaya chuckled, taking her own photo with you to post later. 

     “I am, but I can’t help but indulge a bit.” 

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     Before you knew it, you were back in London, staying in a rented out flat for the next three to four months. Harrison was kind enough to come over to help you set up a work space, but he also offered you to spend most of your time at his place. Since Tom was in New York, doing interviews about the new Spider-man movie and having meetings with the Marvel Cinematic Universe team to try and gauge his future in the MCU, he wouldn’t be around for almost a month, so Harrison offered up Tom’s office when you needed to go over a scene by yourself and wanted a place that was already set up. 

     The days of filming seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Most of your scenes were with Harrison, and he was the perfect scene partner. He rarely messed up, but if he did then he was quick to use it as an opportunity to improvise. His skills weren’t as well honed in like Tom’s, but it was obvious that their style ranged from a similar source. 

     The main thing about this movie that you were excited, but extremely nervous for, were the two sex scenes. The first one is at the beginning, where the two leads give in to each other for a night, then there's some implied stuff in between, and the last one is when the two leads part ways for the final time at the end of the movie. The first one had to be rough, fast, and needy, whereas the second one was direct to be more slow, thought out, and sensual. 

      Both were extremely stress-inducing to film. Harrison had also never done any scenes like this before, so he was on the same boat as you. Thankfully you had an amazing director and stunt coordinator to work with and with the help of other crew members, the scenes were mapped out so that it wasn’t too much improv or guessing on your part. 

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     The first intimate scene you shot actually happened to be the one at the end of the movie. That scene was more tame and dealt with more emotional subtexts than physical. Since you filmed that one first, you went into filming the next one with more confidence. It only took a few days to get the first scene down to perfection, so with this newfound confidence, it shouldn’t take too long to get the next one done. 

     On the days you shot intimate scenes, you only needed to wear the costume you wore before the scene and then you changed into a robe with nude underwear underneath. The bits with the outfit on before were already shot, so the director called a 30 minute break until you could begin shooting the actual sex part. 

     You were standing by the snack table, eyes scanning the table for any more muffins leftover from breakfast. The robe you wore made your skin prickle whenever a draft came onto set. 

     Just as you had found the muffin you were looking for, a pair of warm hands covered your eyes. 

     “Guess who!” An all too familiar warm, British accentuated, voice called. 

      You turned around in his arms, effectively nudging his hands from your face, and soon you were met with the warmest hazel eyes. Eyes that you missed so much this past month. 

      “Tommy!” You squealed and thrusted yourself into him in a hug. He immediately reciprocated it and wrapped your body in warmth. “What’re you doing here?” You asked once you let go of him. 

      “Harrison gave me the location so I could come watch you film. I just got home, like, two days ago.” Tom eyed you up and down, not realizing what little you had on. “Um—are you wearing anything under that?” He pointed up and down your figure. 

     “Nope, today and tomorrow we’re scheduled to film the sex scene.” You said casually, doing a silly twirl. Tom gulped. 

     “A s-sex scene?” He choked, “I didn’t know you guys had one.” 

     “Yup,” you smirked, “two actually, this is my first one ever, Haz’s too, I think. Well actually, we filmed the sex scene at the end of the movie last week.” 

     “Yeah… t-that’s cool.” Tom smiled weakly. 

     Right as you were about to continue your conversation with Tom, an arm swung over your shoulder and pulled you close. Harrison smiled at the both of you. He wore a similar robe to yours, except he left the front open. His plaid boxers on full display. 

     “Don’t listen to her, Tom. She’s a natural.” Harrison pinched your cheeks. Tom clenched his jaw at the comment. He knew Harrison hadn't meant to imply anything with it, but he couldn't help but hear the hidden meaning behind the otherwise innocent compliment. 

      You giggled and pushed his hand away, “Only ‘cus my scene partner is so darn cute.” You retaliated, poking and tickling his pecs. 

      This kind of goofy banter was normal between you and Harrison, but Tom hadn’t seen either of you in so long. He also had never seen you two interact so fluently with each other. He watched the interaction with a tight-lipped smile, nodding along and shrugging every once in a while to seem like he was paying attention. In reality though, he couldn’t pry his thoughts away from how close you were to Harrison. 

     “Ok everyone! Places! Let’s wrap this scene up and put it to rest today!” Your director called. You and Harrison smiled and waved goodbye to Tom. Harrison pointed to a chair in the room that had a nice view of the set where Tom could watch. Tom nodded and walked over to the chair, enthusiasm for watching you work completely dissipating. 

     The scene started off rough right off the bat. The second the director said ‘Action!’ you and Harrison were practically pouncing on each other. Harrison had you pressed up against the wall and you were both breathing heavily. He was leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collar bones. Your moans, which Tom always imagined to sound like music to his ears, sounded too real for his liking. But no matter how much he tried to look away, his eyes were glued to the two bodies moving fluidly with one another. 

     “Cut! Cut!” The director yelled, effectively ending the scene. You and Harrison pulled apart and he gave you a peck on the cheek, as in saying ‘good job’. “That was good, but Harrison,” The blonde nodded, awaiting further instruction. “You gotta be a little rougher, hm?” 

     Harrison nodded along with the critique. “(Y/N)?” the director moved his attention to you, “would it be okay if Harrison marked you up? Just a few hickeys to really sell the illusion. We can do without, though, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

     Tom overheard the interaction and internally hoped that you were too uncomfortable for that, but deep down he knew you would do it. You were never the type to stray away from a challenge. 

     “Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded, chest still heaving from the scene. You looked at Harrison. “Is that okay with you?” 

     Harrison nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, you guys have been working at this scene for days now, but he’d never been rough enough to leave marks. He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t invigorate him. 

     So the scene started from the top, you pressed up against the wall, all your weight shoved between the flimsy wall of the set and Harrison’s strong arms. Harrison did exactly as the director required, leaving noticeable dark spots across the top of your chest. Unlike your previous moans, which had just been for show, this new roughness in his actions tore real moans from your lips. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably in his chair, wishing he picked a different day to visit you on set. He shifted around, watching twin moans pull from both you and Harrison’s throat. He watched as you nipped at Harrison's ear as he faux thrusted into you. The jealousy that had pitted itself in his stomach soon turned to self-loathing. You looked really into the scene, he couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He knew you were a great actress, but he couldn’t believe that this was all acting. In his eyes, he believed that some part of you must wish that this was real. And part of you did like this scenario, but you wouldn’t have picked Harrison to be opposite you in this little fantasy. 

     Your moans and Harrisons both grew louder, leading up to the climax as scripted. Tom, not wanting to watch anymore exited the set quickly before he could watch the scene end. 

     You and Harrison finished up, gaining applause and praise afterwards from the director and crew members on set. 

     “Where’s Tom?” You asked, scrambling back into your robe and smoothing out your now roughed up hair. 

     Harrison, now noticing the absence of his best friend, began to feel a bit guilty. He knew Tom had a thing for you, maybe he should’ve told Tom not to visit set today. 

     “Um, (Y/N)?” He mumbled, pulling you aside slightly. 

     “Yeah?” You still looked around for Tom a bit, heart sinking when you realized that he must've left without saying goodbye. 

      “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this,” Harrison began, drawing your full attention, “but Tom really likes you. He always downplayed it, so I didn’t realize how much, but I think watching this scene might’ve upset him a bit.” Harrison looked towards the exit, no doubtedly where Tom left through, out into the parking lot. 

     “Oh—oh!” You gasped, feeling terribly for having put Tom in such an awkward position. “I didn’t know he felt the same.” You whispered, smiling softly to yourself. Guess Z was right after all. You pulled away from Harrison, “I’ll go talk to him.” 

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      Tom didn’t go far. He still wanted to be there to support you; he didn’t want to come off as a jealous prick, but he couldn’t keep watching that intimacy between you and his best friend. He sat on the curb outside of the building the set was built in. A few people passed him going to their designated buildings on the lot, but he didn’t pay any mind to them, too lost in his thoughts. He needed to tell you sooner rather than later how he felt. No time to be a pussy anymore. 

     “Tom?” You walked up next to his sitting figure, still only in a robe, tightly wrapped around you. He looked up to acknowledge you, mumbling a soft ‘Hey.’ before looking back down, trying to collect his thoughts and courage. It’s now or never. 

     You sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Harrison told me something interesting in there,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “about you.” 

     Tom’s head shot up, and he looked at you with frantic eyes, only imagining the worse. There were too many things Harrison could’ve told you about Tom to sully your image of him. 

     “Whatever it was, he's a lying prick!” Tom rushed out. 

     You giggled, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes, his dark hazel eyes boring into yours. 

     “That’s a shame then,” You shrugged, “considering I like you too.” 

     Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, before looking back at you, doing a double take. 

    “Wait, what?” 

     “Mhm, yeah.” You said casually, standing up. “But since Harrison’s a liar then I suppose he was wrong.” You teased. 

     “No!” Tom grabbed your wrist and pulled you back next to him, but his aim was a bit off and you ended up in his lap. “He lies about a lot, but not about this.”

     You smiled at him, “I should hope not, considering I’m crazy about you.” 

     Tom couldn’t help the smile that beamed across his face, but then he noticed the marks left on you by Harrison. Remembering why he was insecure in the first place, he looked away. 

     “What about Harrison?” He asked. You looked at him utterly confused. Tom caught on and explained further. “You looked like you were really into that scene with him.” 

     You giggled and pinched Tom’s cheek, turning it red. “I’m an actress, you idiot.”

     Tom scoffed, “I know that. It’s just— I didn’t realize you could fake that kind of love.” 

     You looked at Tom’s downcast face. You leaned in and kissed his neck, just under his jaw. You nipped and sucked softly, leaving a nice, dark pink blotch that would go away in a few days under his jaw and he whimpered softly.

     “I’d never fake that kind of love with you.” You grabbed his face, holding it gently in your hands. “I’d never have to.” You whispered, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and sweet. 

     Tom pulled you closer, resting a hand on the small of your back, kissing back fervently. 

     The short make-out session being cut short by the door to the set bursting opened. Harrison rushing out, now dressed in slacks and a white button up for the next scene you needed to shoot that day. 

     “(Y/N)! Hair and makeup need you.” You lugged yourself off of Tom’s lap, promising to talk to him after you finished for the day. You went back inside, jokingly blowing a kiss to Harrison on your way. 

     Harrison stayed outside and sat next to Tom. 

     “Did she confess first?” He asked after a moment of silence. 

     “Yup.” Tom smiled happily, licking his lips, tasting the strawberry chapstick he saw you put on earlier. 

     “You owe me 10 pounds then, you wimp.” 

     “Oh, fuck off.” Tom groaned, promptly pulling ten pounds out of his wallet and handing it to Haz. 

[cowboyjen68]

Rotten Apples & Frontier Justice

 Rotten Apples and Frontier Justice

By CowboyJen

My best friend Kendra had a small overbite that she grew into but there were a few boys who liked to tease her about it. One very hot summer day we were riding our horses in the old apple orchard down in what was soon to become a rural suburban development dubbed Woodland Estates. The two brick walls with cement lions on them already graced the entryway of our riding trail. 

I was around 11 and she was 10. A few of the boys were riding their bikes up and down the paved road which had been a dirt path a few weeks prior and the novelty of having blacktop was too much to resist. They basically rode up and down back and forth and the speed bumps were great to “get air”.

We ignored them, they ignored us, the way it was meant to be. One boy, and we will never know why, and perhaps he didn’t know either, suddenly  felt pretty brave and breached the unspoken boy/girl wall.  Maybe having his friends nearby to back him up or maybe to prove he was “a man” or If you believed my mom, it was “his way of showing us he had a crush”. No matter his reasons. He waited until we had dismounted to feed green apples to the horses Beau and Gypsy and veered off the smooth black top.  He stood on his pedals to gain speed as he approached and  he was bent forward over that K Mart bike’s handlebars as he got closer and closer. We saw him coming and sort of just watched the on coming flurry of feathered hair and Starsky and Hutch T shirt. 

This boy, thinking to spook the horses and cause us trouble passed us as close as he could and yelled “Bucky the Buck toothed Beaver!” 

Kendra was unphased and so were our seasoned mounts. She took the apple that was meant for Gypsy and hit the boy right in the back of the head from about a 12 foot range. The rotten part splatted in his dirty blonde hair but the solid part made an audible “thud” as it connected to his thick skull. He screamed in pain “shit.. ouch!” and slid his bike sideways in the grass, staining his Sears Husky jeans no doubt.  He paused a second on the ground, probably debating if pretending to be really hurt might save him or hoping  his friends were on the way.  No luck either way so he stood  up, picked up his bike and faced us with green grass stains and what was likely sweat, apple juice and tears on his face. 

Before he could turn to mount his bike I took my shot. Wham, right in the knee, not as accurate as Kendra but it got his attention. The look in his face was that of a man who suddenly realized he had severely underestimated the enemies he decided to create. Kendra already had two apples in hand and I reloaded while she fired off another shot. One missed, hitting his bike as it dropped to the ground. The other caused him to holler out “stop!” when it hit him in the stomach. 

Two tween girls, who both had their own baseball gloves and killed long summer days throwing rocks at trees and golf balls at tin cans are formidable foes. Poor kid realized the error of his ways too late. There was no time for him to formulate a plan. The onslaught of rotten green apples put him squarely in survival mode and he ran to the nearest dwarf apple tree. He hid behind it and tried bargaining. “Stop it you guys!”  One, two, three apples whizzed by him and one hit the tree causing a satisfying splatter pattern. “Come on guys.. stop!”.  A few more hits and we began to flank him. Our horses calmly grazed the shaded grass and we loaded our arms and moved to flush him from his barrier. 

In a moment of what I am sure he thought was brilliance, he grabbed a low branch and swung up, taking a hit to the seat of his pants and one to the back. A hard, well aimed hit in the soft part of the small of his back. I heard it and Kendra said “ooo  nailed him”.

Like a squirrel in Traxx Tennis shoes he moved around the tree and climbed up to a more covered branch forcing us to back away to see him better. Kendra seemed satisfied that he was out of range and I followed her lead to walk backwards to the horses. She started to pile up apples and he yelled down “Knock it off you Ass holes, i need to go home”.   We bit into and chewed the bitter green apples while sitting on the ground next to our ammunition pile. The other boys had dropped their bikes by the Lion topped brick walls and were sitting on it, watching. The trapped boy noticed them and pleaded “Guys.. come help”.  They only responded with “they are just girls” but none of them jumped down to aid him. 

It was getting to be suppertime and he decided we had grown tired of watching him. He slowly descended but as he hit the last branch before the ground we pelted him with the squishiest apples we could pick up. The splatter was satisfying but watching him scramble back to his perch was even more so.

We ate snacks from our saddle bags and waited. He tried a few times to make an escape.  Once even jumping to the ground and trying to make a run for it. He was not fast enough nor tolerant of pain enough to get more than one step before  swiveling and scratching his way back to his previous perch.  The funniest attempt was when he tried something he had seen in the movies. “I will come down with my hands up” and as much as we wanted to see that Kendra and I bombarded the tree trunk.  Every time he would try the pain of the projectile apples kept him in his place.  

In the final stages before the street lamp came on (we had one now) he begged “I’m supposed to be home now. Mom is going to be really mad”.  We sympathized slightly, knowing the mom wrath of those kids late for supper or not home right after the darkness triggered the light to come on. But I guess he shouldn’t have hurled that insult. . 

The other boys had left, we were bored and. in desperation, and wishing he would not have hogged so much Kool Aid he yelled. “I gotta pee really bad guys.. come ON!”.  He had two choices, unzip and pee from the tree, which would expose him just enough that we would have future ammo about “what we saw” or well, not unzip. His body made the decision for him. Enough was enough and we rode past him with a final  apple lobbed over his head. We never spoke of that again. Not to him, not to each other, no one. He had done his time. Frontier justice had been served. Lesson learned. 

Lessons: Don’t be a bully. If you drink too much Kool Aid and decide to take on two tween girls, it  is  best to have an exit strategy. Girls can’t always throw as hard as boys their age but their accuracy can be scary good. Girls have more stamina and patience in a stand off than you want to test. Straight girls can and will take it to the next level. 

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Miguel Diaz fluff alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Miguel loves your smile. He’s a funny guy and he thinks your smile lights up a room so he makes it his mission to make you laugh as much as possible. If you have some crooked teeth, he thinks it’s adorable. Also, looking at your smile makes him think about your lips which just makes him want to kiss you.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Yes, after he gets a stable job. He would love kids but he doesn’t want to be like his dad and end up abandoning his family so he would make extra sure he could support the child and you and makes a conscious effort to be there for his family no matter what. Asking about their day, being involved in their sports/clubs/hobbies, making snacks when they have friends over. He just wants to be the Cool Dad ™ and would probably try to teach them karate before they could even sit up.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He loves to have you sit between his legs and lean back against his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and make sure you’re always safe and warm. It’s the perfect position for movies, video games, deep conversations, baths. He will also often come up behind you at a party and hold you like this if someone is hitting on you or if you look uncomfortable or bored. He can whisper little jokes in your ear or kiss you on the cheek.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

He loves fun dates. You both have always found fancy dinner dates really awkward. He likes something where you guys can move around, do activities, and just let loose. The go-to’s are usually mini golf, the arcade, the zoo, or just a nice picnic in the park. He often gets you little gifts before dates, though, like flowers, a stuffed animal, or a cool rock he found. His Yaya taught him never to show up for a date empty handed. And he’s a total gentleman, never making you uncomfortable or rushing things. Miguel keeps his hands to himself unless instructed otherwise.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

You are my sunshine. As cheesy as it is, Miguel sees you as the shining light in his life. You make everything better, whether that’s an injury, a bad day at school, or losing a fight at training. He knows he can always go to you and be distracted by your beautiful smile.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

Miguel first knew he was in love with you when you met his family for the first time. They invited you over for dinner one night and he told you his Yaya didn’t speak much english, so you asked him to teach you some spanish so you could talk with her. It wasn’t perfect, you made lots of grammar mistakes and really only said a couple sentences to her, but the effort you made combined with the smile on Yaya’s face made him fall absolutely head-over-heels.

If you already speak spanish, it would be seeing you talk with his Yaya and joke around with her over dinner.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

The most gentle boy on the face of the Earth. Like I said earlier, Miguel keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him otherwise. The first time you guys kiss, he barely moves a muscle. You had to grab his hands and put them on your waist. Even now, when he’s teaching you karate, he refuses to hit or grab you, so you honestly don’t really learn anything lol and if you’re sick or sleeping, he’s like a feather, so scared to disturb you. It’s like touching a kitten honestly

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

All. The. Time. He’s not too big on PDA, except for hand-holding. This is how he lets everyone know you’re taken without seeming possessive or gross. Miguel will grab your hand at the mall, at school, while y’all are cuddling, at the beach, literally whenever you’re in arm’s reach from him, he’s holding your hand.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Miguel’s first impression of you is that you’re this bright ray of sunshine. He’s drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes, your smile, your laugh! And when he finally works up the nerve to say hi (Strike first!) he thinks his heart might actually melt. When you actually laugh at the joke he makes and hold out your hand to introduce yourself, he turns bright red and can barely speak omfg this poor boy. But luckily you think it’s sweet and keep talking to him.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

He did at first, we’ve all seen how he acts with Sam and Robby, but you lay down the law. You have to tell him that it’s not cool, it makes people uncomfy, and then he finally starts to work on it. Now he’s better. He still feels jealous sometimes, but he trusts you and can control himself a bit more.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

So your first kiss. You were giving him The Look for like 10 minutes straight and he never made a move. He just stared at you. So you had to be the first one to actually lean in, but once you did, he met you halfway. His kisses match his personality. Sweet, gentle, and goofy, but with a more dominant, aggressive side if you know how to bring it out ;)

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He did. After you had dinner with his family and he realized he loved you, he told you almost immediately. This boy just wears his heart on his sleeve. He was walking you home and when you got to your house and turned around to kiss him goodnight, he had a funny look on his face. When you asked him what was wrong he kind of went ILOVEYOU! Really fast and you had to make him say it again slower because you thought he had a stroke or smth lmaooo but once he took a deep breath and said it more clearly, you jumped on him and kissed his whole face and said it back a hundred times.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

When he first introduced you to Sensei Lawrence. He thought Sensei was gonna be super mean and make fun of you, but turns out you guys had a lot in common. You loved 80’s rock music, and responded to his sass with even more sass. Johnny almost couldn’t believe Miguel was able to get such a cool babe. You guys all had lunch after taking a tour of the dojo, and it was a super fun day! You all drove around in Johnny’s car with the windows down listening to Guns ‘n Roses.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Miguel spoils you in his own little way. His family isn’t as fortunate as others, but he still finds ways to make you feel special. Instead of a diamond necklace, he gives you a cool rock he found outside and cleaned up. Instead of taking you to expensive restaurants, he spends all day cooking with Yaya to make a nice picnic for you guys to have on the beach. And he saves up to buy you nice gifts for your birthday or anniversary.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Rose gold. You’re so beautiful to him and have this natural charm that everyone falls for. You’re so radiant and yet soft and unique. He just love love loves you.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Sweety, sweetheart, baby, gorgeous, and Princess during more intimate moments.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

80’s rock music. He learns to love it through Sensei Lawrence. He even saves up to buy a record player so he can feel more connected to the past.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Build blanket forts, cuddle, bake cookies, he might even let you put makeup on him if you ask nice.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Humor. He loves cracking jokes and lightening the mood. If you’re ever feeling down you know you can go to him and he will turn that frown upside down in mere minutes. Honestly even just being in his presence makes you happier. He cheers himself up by working out, taking some alone time to get his feelings out, and then going out with some friends or with you.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Umm, karate! Duh lol the boy is obsessed with it. Also superhero movies, video games, his day, he’s honestly kind of a rambler. He can talk about anything and everything if he’s nervous enough. Let’s not forget the gas station scene in season 1…

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

You, dark rooms, white noise, puppies, linen scented candles, his mom’s cooking.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

His new muscles. Ever since joining Cobra Kai, he’s gotten pretty ripped and now it’s a struggle to get him to keep his shirt on. He worked hard for that body, he wants people to see how good he looks!

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

After college, he takes you on a hike up to this ridge overlooking a lake. It’s fall, the leaves are changing colors, and there’s no one around. You guys have been holding hands the whole time, but his hand is super sweaty even though it’s like 50 degrees out. You guys finally get to the top of the ridge and he grabs both your hands and tells you all the things he loves about you. This boy basically recites your whole love story, and as soon as he sticks his hand in his pocket you know what’s going on. He barely even got the box out of his pocket before you were jumping on him screaming Yes! You guys fell to the ground and he stopped you so he could officially get the words out. You were both crying, it was very beautiful.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

More Than Words by Extreme. You guys dance to this at your wedding.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Absolutely. Y’all marry pretty young, like right out of college. He knew you were gonna get married on the first date.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Iguana. He thinks they’re like little dinosaurs! He would name it Wade because we know he loves Deadpool.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

Haikyuu But They Don’t Play Volleyball (Pretty Setter Squad)

Notes: I am once again telling you that I know nothing about sports.  

*Read that Captain version here! (oikawa was included in the captain thread)*

Sugawara Koushi: Diving

He’s beauty. He’s grace. How could he not be a diver?

I’m sorry but just imagine him coming up from a dive, his hair clinging to his forehead, just smiling that pretty smile of his as he swims back to the edge of the pool?

Catch me simping.

TEAMMOMTEAMMOMTEAMMOM!

Sugawara is brings a whole ass cooler of snacks and drinks to every meet for all of his teammates.

Probably leads in stretches?  His positive energy gets everyone super hyped for the competition.  I promise you’ve never heard anyone count to ten with more enthusiasm.

He’s there on the sidelines to watch every single dive during the meet, shouting words of encouragement as they approach the platform, and then cheering loudly after the completed dive.

But, also?  C H A O T I C at practices.  Like he knows when it’s time to actually practice, but if something has the team down?  He’ll do some stupid move, shouting some TikTok reference on his way down.

Sugawara is really good at twisting dives? Like?? Really good at them.

If you come to his meets to watch him?  Precious bean smiles so much, likely giving you a thumbs up and a toothy grin before he steps up to the edge of the springboard.  

You’ll try to give him a hug once he’s out of the water, but he’ll likely just laugh and object, saying that he’ll get your clothes all wet.

But, he will sit down in his chair and let you dry his hair with his towel.  Watch him melt into your touch once you're done and just running your fingers through his silver strands, getting any tangles out.

He always offers you his jacket, because he’s an absolute gentleman.  But, he inevitably ends up getting cold, and will cuddle you in his lap to steal your body heat, putting his towel down over his legs so you don’t get your pants all wet.

Kageyama Tobio: Basketball

He plays point guard, because much like the setter in volleyball, the point guard controls the team’s offense.  It’s the most specialized position, again, just like the setter.

Three point K I N G!

Drains them left and right with expert precision.

He plays so rough oml and it’s not even on purpose!  Someone could guard him too much and he’s pissed even though that’s literally the point of basketball??? Catch him throwing so many elbows.

Kageyama practices dribbling non-stop.  If he’s not in during practice, he’s on the side lines doing ball-handling drills.

He could be the best ball-handler on the team and he’s still working to improve himself and learn from some of the point guards from the opposing teams.

He will have no idea that you’re even at his games, because he’s so in the zone, but if you come up to him afterwards as he walks out of the locker room?

Insert soft Tobio smile here ;-;

He’ll ask you if you enjoyed the game, probably talking about how one of the other players had a really clean jump shot, asking you to rebound for him so he can try that.

Please tell him no.  He’s on an adrenaline high and needs to go get some rest.

Kageyama will probably con you into it, no matter how much you object. He’d be shooting baskets, asking for your input every now and then as if you have any idea what you’re meant to be looking for.

You definitely walked up to him after a game in a t-shirt that had his name on it and this boy just got so flustered, because he will never be over the fact that you, of all people, wanted to date him.

But, he would tell you that you looked nice, just like he always does.  Kageyama would never outright say it, but the fact that you get all dressed up for his games makes his heart do backflips 🥺

Kozume Kenma: Track

Right? Crazy, I know, but hear me out.  He does high jump or maybe pole vault.  Something that doesn’t require too much physical exertion.

Sitting outside in the sun at track meets for hours on end is by no means his favorite thing to do, but he’s one of the first events, so if the meet is at Nekoma, he can just dip for a little while and go play his games at a cafe that has air conditioning or something.  Don’t tell his coach though because they’re technically not meant to leave??

During practices, you will likely find him lying on the mats, playing a game on his phone, not even caring if his coach comes over.  The others are doing the same thing, so why does it matter?

He can get really meticulous though, especially right before postseason.  He’d get in this trance where he’s constantly working on his approaches, making sure they feel just right before he even thinks about jumping.  

Kenma hates when you come watch him.  It throws him off, so if you do plan on coming to a meet, please don’t say anything ;-; 

Honestly, he probably wouldn’t even tell you when he has meets, just so he doesn’t run the risk of you watching him.  

Assuming you do find out his schedule, it’s probably best if you come after his events?  It would put him more at ease knowing that there wasn’t even the slightest possibility that you had watched him.

He’ll sit on the bleachers with you though, munching on some snacks that you brought, making quiet conversation while he plays his games.

Kenma will always tell you that he doesn’t care if you come or not, but deep down, he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you while he’s waiting for results he absolutely will make sure that you leave if he makes it to the final round though

Akaashi Keiji: Golf

GOLF BRAT this is a joke don’t kill me pls

I’m talking like he grew up playing golf with his dad, but because he’s played so long, he’s super good.  

He shoots in the high-30s on nine holes and probably gets really annoyed with himself if he gets in the mid-40s

You’ll see him on the driving range right after the match, practicing until he’s content if he ever does worse than he expected.

He only uses Callaway golf balls and probably has a really unique ball mark.

His golf clubs?  Custom fit.  He’s not a snob, I swear.  He just takes it really seriously, because Akaashi knows that he’s good and could get some really incredible scholarships.  He wants to be able to perform to the best of his ability and if that means spending a lot on a nice set of golf clubs that will last him for a long time, then he’ll do it.

Akaashi carries his clubs.  He doesn’t understand the need for those push carts?  Sure the clubs are kind of heavy, but it’s not that bad.

Definitely refused to wear a glove for a long time, but eventually the blisters and calluses got so bad that he had to cave.  

Putting KING.  Can and will sink a 15’ putt without batting an eyelash.  He doesn’t have a lot of power in his drives, but his short game is impeccable. 

He’s always really flattered when you show up to his matches.  They’re boring to watch, and he knows that, especially if you don’t play golf or have any interest in the sport.  

But, the fact that you’re willing to walk with him around the course, asking him questions about the rules of the game, or even just helping him find his ball?  It brings that gentle Akaashi smile to his face. 

Akaashi in a polo akaashi in a polo akaashi in a motherfucking polo

Some weekends he’ll take you out to the course with him, let you borrow a set of his old clubs if you don’t have a set of your own, and you two will play a round of golf together

You give up after hitting the ball in the lake four times in row and just settle for driving the golf cart and providing him with emotional support.

Atsumu Miya: Tennis

Just imagine that wide ass smile of his when he scores a point

Wait i’m already soft i-

Anyway.  The intention was to get Osamu to play too and they would be this really incredible duo for doubles

But Osamu physically could not put up with Atsumu’s shit.  Like, in volleyball there are other people on the court to interact with, but in doubles tennis? It’s just atsumu

Osamu literally lasted one practice.

But, we’re not here to talk about him.

Atsumu doesn’t have a lot of power, so he has to come up with other ways to score.  He mainly relies on well-aimed receives or drop shots

He hates the uniforms and he looks terrible in them.  I’m so sorry Atsumu stans, but it’s just a fact.  Those really light, almost white, khakis and the maroon polo?  Boy looks so dumb and he knows it.  Add the dumbass headband his coach makes him wear to keep his hair from his eyes?  Fashion crises.

It’s for this reason that he really doesn’t want you at his matches.  Because he knows that you’re going to take stupid pictures of him and use them as blackmail.  You come anyway and yes.  You take a million pictures of your boyfriend looking like a hot mess in his uniform.

If he catches you taking pictures in between sets?  He’s going to steal your phone the minute he’s done so he can delete them all

“153 pictures?! What the hell, Princess. . .”

“Sorry, ‘mu.  You just look so dumb in your uniform.”

He likes to drag you out to the courts on weekends to play doubles with friends or he’ll ask you to play singles with him. He always says that he’ll go easy on you, but three volleys in and he’s slipped into the zone and he’s playing for real.

Atsumu has absolutely smacked your ass with his racket and feigned innocence when you whirl around to stare at him in shock.  He probably starts lecturing the nearest person on how they should treat someone like that, especially his princess.

Smack his arm and shut him up, please.

I promise he looks a lot better when the two of you go play than when he actually has a match.  Some nice athletic shorts and a black t-shirt or hoodie, maybe a baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face?  Yeah.  He looks hella cute.

[cksmart-world]

The completely unnecessary news analysis

by Christopher Smart

May 18, 2021

GOP BATTLE CRY: “GET RID OF YOUR DIAPER”

Who could guess the new battle cry of the Trump wing of the GOP would be, “Get rid of your diaper.” Although it's a great T-shirt slogan, it's somewhat limited because it's hard to sing, although Majorie Taylor Greene did give it a good try. The failure could have something to do with the acoustics as she bellowed through the office door mail slot of Bronx Rep. Alexandria Ocasio Cortez. Here at Smart Bomb, the staff has been unable to discern the origin of the catchy phrase. It may have been the product of focus groups in Taylor's backwoods Georgia district, although our analysts think it might be too sophisticated for her constituents, who are more likely to come up with something like, “Get rid of your taco you stupid spic.” Perhaps Taylor Greene paid an expensive K Street PR firm to come up the colorful maxim. The Trumper firebrand had a few other gems up her sleeve: she called AOC a “chicken,” which impressed some of her Republican colleagues for its finesse. But all that was just a warmup for the heavy artillery when she called AOC a "radical socialist," adding: "You don't care about the American people." But the former Bronx bartender seemed unrattled when she retorted, “I used to throw people like her out of the bar all the time.”

WINGMAN READY TO SING, MAN

Ever wonder what someone means when they say, “He's my wingman.” It used to mean a pilot whose plane is positioned behind and outside the leading aircraft in a formation. Then hockey players appropriated it for forwards, who generally do most of the scoring. But now wingman can mean almost anything. For Trumpist Florida Congressman Matt Gaetz it means something like “fixer” or maybe “pimp,” but boy did his wingman score. Of course, those are just allegations that came out when the feds investigated Gaetz' wingman, Joel Greenberg, who faces a 33 count indictment and will probably need a wingman, himself, when he ends up in the Big House alongside guys who have pretty good slap-shots. If Gaetz' wingman sings, the Congressman could face charges of sex trafficking of a minor and others. There have been more famous wingmen, of course, like Sundance was to Butch, like Spiro Agnew was to Richard Nixon, like Pence was to Trump, like Tonto was to the Lone Ranger, like Dale Evans was to Roy Rogers and like Mike Lee is to Ted Cruz (Laurel and Hardy of the Senate). But not even Agnew and Nixon were charged with sex trafficking. Let's not forget, Gaetz is innocent until proven guilty. And anyway, the girl said she was 18.

STEWART AND CURTIS: OFF WITH HER HEAD

Time to roll out the old guillotine. See, when you have a revolution everyone has go along and if they don't you have to cut their heads off. In the case of Wyoming's Congresswoman Liz Cheney, some say she's getting it in the neck for telling the truth about The Big Lie and that the January 6 insurrection was no picnic. But here in Utah, our Rep. John Curtis can explain the whole thing away: “Well, I think the thing that's been frustrating to me is missing the narrative that she was not removed because of her stance on President Trump, nor because of her statements,” Curtis said. “It's that she is not leading this party in a way that will help us,” undermine democracy or prove the Earth is flat. We also have Rep. Chris Stewart to help us understand what Curtis said: “This was not a vote to condemn Rep. Cheney for her previous vote of conscience (to impeach Trump); this was a vote to unify the Republican Party” so we don't have that bitch going on and on about The Big Lie. We can't keep talking about how the election was stolen and how January 6 was just a big party incited by Donald Trump. That would just continue to make us look like assholes who chose Trump over Truth. Oh, and by the way, don't put away the guillotine: Mitt Romney, you're next.

Post script — Well that about does it for another crazy week here on As The World Turns, aka Smart Bomb. Some of us worry too much and some don't worry enough. If you're in the second group we can help: Consider this — our birth rate is declining and has reached 1.7 children per couple. Pencil this out and you will find that is 0.3 of a person short of replacing the current population. What's wrong with that, you might say, the swimming pools and golf courses are too crowded and, almost as bad, people are starving in Bangladesh. Why can't we just go back to a less crowded world where you could get up Little Cottonwood Canyon? Well because, stupid, capitalism demands growth. There must be an expansion of goods and services — and people to purchase them. And it can't work in reverse. So for us in the U.S, the short term solution is that we need immigrants. What do you think all those Turkish guys are doing in Germany — other than the blonde women, of course. That's right, Germans stopped reproducing (too much beer?). Smart Bomb analysts have considered the data and made a prediction: Ten years from now Trumpers will be inviting immigrants from everywhere and anywhere. And when you ask, they'll say, What's a Trump?

Well Wilson, here it is May, the most beautiful month of the year and everything is coming up roses. So how about you and the guys play a little cheery something for Matt Gaetz and his sidekick Joel Greenberg:

If I had a boat I'd go out on the ocean And if I had a pony I'd ride him on my boat And we could all together Go out on the ocean Me upon my pony on my boat If I were Roy Rogers I'd sure enough be single I couldn't bring myself to marrying old Dale It'd just be me and trigger We'd go riding through them movies Then we'd buy a boat and on the sea we'd sail The mystery masked man was smart He got himself a Tonto 'Cause Tonto did the dirty work for free But Tonto he was smarter And one day said kemo sabe Kiss my ass I bought a boat I'm going out to sea...

(If I Had A Boat — Lyle Lovett)

[luvdsc]

i luv the songs u put together for all your fics!! they’re so cute and a lot of them i haven’t heard of before LOL idk if that is me not knowing good music or you just having great music taste!!! if you don’t mind me asking, do you have any song or artist recommendations?

omg wait this is actually the ultimate compliment???? like I just !!!!! you like my music choices?? aaah, thank you so so much, sweetpea!!! 💗💗💗 I’m honestly over the moon at the fact that you actually listen to the songs I’ve chosen for each fic 🥺🥺 what kind of music do you listen to, honey bee? Who are your favorite artists, and what are your favorite songs? 💘

and I don’t mind at all, I’d love to give you some of my song and artist recs!!! 🥰✨ I highly recommend the entire discography of each artist I listed, but I put some of my favorite songs for each one 💕

updated — 12.27.2021

MUSIC IN ENG ;

maisie peters — sad girl summer ⋆ you to you ⋆ favourite ex ⋆ worst of you ⋆ adore you ⋆ personal best ⋆ maybe don’t (feat. jp saxe) ⋆ john hughes movie ⋆ outdoor pool ⋆ talking to strangers

chelsea cutler — what would it take ⋆ nj ⋆ lucky (with alexander 23) ⋆ cold showers ⋆ three words away ⋆ lonely alone (with jeremy zucker) ⋆ sometimes ⋆ emily (with jeremy zucker) ⋆ this is how you fall in love (with jeremy zucker) ⋆ sixteen

sasha sloan — version of me ⋆ older ⋆ thank god ⋆ runaway ⋆ chasing parties ⋆ here ⋆ dancing with your ghost ⋆ lie

lennon stella — kissing other people ⋆ pretty boy ⋆ jealous ⋆ bad ⋆ golf on tv ⋆ bitch (takes one to know one)

jeremy zucker — scared ⋆ always, i’ll care ⋆ orchid ⋆ we’re f****d, it’s fine ⋆ thinking 2 much ⋆ firefly ⋆ brooklyn boy

gabrielle aplin — magic ⋆ so far so good ⋆ what did you do? ⋆ stay ⋆ you don’t like dancing ⋆ please don’t say you love me

mxmtoon — fever dream ⋆ unspoken words ⋆ no faker ⋆ used to you ⋆ blame game ⋆ temporary nothing

troye sivan — plum ⋆ lucky strike ⋆ ease (feat. broods) ⋆ talk me down ⋆ heaven (feat. betty who)

lauv — feelings ⋆ canada (feat. alessia cara) ⋆ bracelet ⋆ getting over you ⋆ never not ⋆ superhero

jp saxe — blurry ⋆ sad corny f**k ⋆ 25 in barcelona ⋆ 3 minutes ⋆ hey stupid, i love you

hayley williams — sugar on the rim ⋆ cinnamon ⋆ simmer ⋆ watch me while i bloom

paramore — grudges ⋆ rose-colored boy ⋆ caught in the middle ⋆ brighter ⋆ fences ⋆ playing god ⋆ hate to see your heart break ⋆ escape route

coin — honey ⋆ simple romance ⋆ crash my car ⋆ hannah ⋆ heart eyes ⋆ malibu 1992 ⋆ it’s a trap

bad suns — howling at the sun ⋆ daft pretty boys ⋆ the world and i ⋆ maybe we’re meant to be alone ⋆ outskirts of paradise ⋆ take my love and run

hunny — everything means everything meant everything ⋆ a slow death in pacific standard time ⋆ parking lot ⋆ hard to believe ⋆ kicking cans

lany — pancakes ⋆ someone else ⋆ made in hollywood ⋆ yea, babe, no way ⋆ the breakup ⋆ if you see her ⋆ i don’t wanna love you anymore

all time low — glitter & crimson ⋆ basement noise ⋆ afterglow ⋆ cinderblock garden ⋆ life of the party ⋆ missing you ⋆ somewhere in neverland ⋆ backseat serenade ⋆ shameless ⋆ break your little heart ⋆ a daydream away ⋆ therapy

taylor swift — list here.

MUSIC IN KOR ;

taeyeon — time lapse ⋆ love in color ⋆ u r ⋆ stress ⋆ gravity ⋆ LOL ⋆ blue ⋆ baram x3 ⋆ starlight (feat. dean) ⋆ when we were young (cover) ⋆ more specific recs

jonghyun — white t-shirt ⋆ lonely (feat. taeyeon) ⋆ neon ⋆ aurora ⋆ suit up ⋆ hallelujah ⋆ just for a day ⋆ before our spring ⋆ our season ⋆ i’m sorry ⋆ diphylleia grayi

taemin — sexuality ⋆ pretty boy (feat. kai) ⋆ hypnosis ⋆ heart stop (feat. seulgi) ⋆ truth ⋆ play me ⋆ wicked

key — i wanna be (feat. soyeon) ⋆ easy to love ⋆ imagine ⋆ good good ⋆ this life ⋆ one of those nights (feat. crush) ⋆ hate that… (feat. taeyeon)

i’ll — my love, i still ⋆ are you there ⋆ you & i ⋆ to my dear

woosung — face ⋆ ilysb (cover) ⋆ you make me back ⋆ wolf

shinee — quasimodo ⋆ an encore ⋆ love sick ⋆ drive ⋆ beautiful life ⋆ close the door ⋆ excuse me miss ⋆ hitchhiking ⋆ honesty ⋆ your name ⋆ romantic ⋆ replay ⋆ body rhythm ⋆ kind ⋆ lock you down ⋆ drive ⋆ i want you ⋆ lipstick

(g)i-dle — luv u ⋆ oh my god ⋆ blow your mind ⋆ what’s your name ⋆ $$$ ⋆ what’s in your house?

itzy — cherry ⋆ that’s a no no ⋆ nobody like you ⋆ wannabe ⋆ dalla dalla

weki meki — moya moya ⋆ i don’t like your girlfriend ⋆ oopsy ⋆ stay with me ⋆ metronome ⋆ true valentine

f(x) — all mine ⋆ deja vu ⋆ x ⋆ boom bang boom ⋆ pretty girl ⋆ jet ⋆ love

tomorrow x together — ghosting ⋆ our summer ⋆ eternally ⋆ frost ⋆ magic island ⋆ roller coaster ⋆ 0X1 = LOVESONG (i know i love you) ⋆ LO$ER = LO♡ER ⋆ okay, their entire discography but also blue hour ep especially !!!

the rose — insomnia ⋆ i.l.y. ⋆ candy (so good) ⋆ she’s in the rain ⋆ california

day6 — you were beautiful ⋆ best part ⋆ 365247 ⋆ dance dance ⋆ love me or leave me

stray kids — voices ⋆ rock ⋆ question ⋆ 0325 ⋆ mixtape#3 ⋆ sunshine

individual songs — when i fall in love (primary feat. meego & suran) ⋆ hide and seek (suran feat. heize) ⋆ rainin’ with u (heize) ⋆ under the starlight (onew) ⋆ diamond (irene & seulgi)

[jimmydemaret]

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[drowninginblox]

Thrown into It

Part: 1,2,3,4,5, 6, 7, 8

Part 9: Titles at Momo’s

How the fuck did I get here? We were just going over math damn it. Why did we have to train my powers? It’s not like I’m gonna be a pro hero! I’m not main character material after all. Have you seen what I'm packing? All bone and fat. No muscle to this bitch. “Y/n! Cmon! Keep your head out of the clouds!” Ochako called from the front. I can only nod my head and try not to faint. Right now me and the main character gang are walking to Momo’s house. Apparently this is an impromptu sleepover. Momo told us that she’ll cover everything we needed so now we’re just walking. Don't worry the cast dragged me to the local train station before hand and Inko was cool with this somehow. What even is this? “Y/n? Are you alright?” I hear before Tenya- fuck I mean Iida nudge me. It’s so weird acting like a stranger to people you already know. “Oh, um.. Y-yeah just a little.. I don't know how to explain it? Anxious?” I try to look at him but his straight laced demeanor and overall physic is intimidating in itself. “There is nothing to worry about though! Surely Midoryia has told you that we are trustworthy!” He declares while chopping his hand around. I try to hold in my laugh but fail miserably. “Did I do something funny?!” He shouts defensively while chopping more. Fuck its just as funny in person-. I feel eyes fall on me as I just keep laughing. “I-oh holly crap- fuckin give me a minute holy shit-” I takes deep breaths while the group mumbles something about me being weird. “S-sorry- Just.. The fucking hand chops kill me- you remind me of C3PO..” I whip a tear from my eye but when I focus back on the group they all look clueless as to what I was saying. “Um.. Y’know? Star Wars?” I prompt but all look just as clueless. Does this universe not have star wars? “What's that?” Tsuyu asks with a small kero. I couldn't only stare. “Just the greatest movie franchise to grace the planet! Yknow- fuckin-” I cover my mouth and inhale deeply. “Luke, I am your father!” They all glance at each other. “Y/n is it something from your home?” I feel my eye twitch but give up. “Yeah it is, and it's amazing.” I sigh. “What might it be about?” Tokoyami asks. His eyes widened at my overwhelming joy. Midoryia chuckles and smiles along with me. “Now you did it-” Before tonight Izuku made the mistake of asking me who my favorite hero was.

The rest of the journey was me basically explaining all of star wars to them without giving the major spoilers. At some points they had to smack me since in my excitement I was babbling nonsense. Ochako, Tsuyu, and Momo seemed to be the most invested in it from what I could tell. “Does the princess ever go home?” Ochoko questions. Momo interrupts me with a pointer finger. “There it is!”  She announces at the sight of the gates. She runs up ahead of us and speaks into the microphone. Not even two minutes later and the gate opens up to us, two white golf carts not too far behind. “Dude how rich are you..?” I mumble into the open air. She only laughs. I turned to Ochoko, then to Izuku, both of whom shook to the core over how long the driveway was. “My goodness! You have golf carts too Yaoyorozo?” Tenya acquires when two while golf carts pull up to the gate. The fuck even is this bull shitery? “Only for when I’m lazy.” She defends before hopping on the back of one of the carts. We all follow suit and within a few minutes we are in front of a behemoth of a mansion. “Welcome home everyone!” She cheers. The carts come to stop at her front door and holy fuck I am too intimidated to move. 

Everyone gets out of the carts while me and Ochoko take in the sight that is Momo’s home. It was larger than my house, that's for sure. It was also weastern, made of what looked like marble with stone accents near the front door and side of the house. The windows were large and peaking from the roof were two brick chimneys. “Are you two going to stay there all night?” Tenya called with what looked like a cocky smile. “Oh shush Mr. My brother is a pro hero!” I called playfully. His cheeks flashes a bright red and turns to Midorya while I slowly get up, help a dazed Ochoko in the process, and make my way to the front door. Izuku was mumbling about every small detail while Tsu and Tokoyami were notably quiet through this whole ordeal. Momo turned to us and smiled. “My mother and Father are out of town, visiting friends and the likes, so we have the whole house to ourselves!” She rings the doorbell and not even a second later, it opens to a maid. I could feel my face heat up at the sight of any of the main characters in that outfit like that, even though it wasn't that revealing. “Y/n are you okay?” Tokoyami asks about my flushed face but I just cough it off. “Oh my! Are you catching something?” Momo asks before turning to the maid. “Please get them some hot chocolate and hot tea! Also prepare my room with extra blankets, clothes, and pillows.” The young woman bows before walking away from us. “You didn't have to-! I'm not sick!” I tried but I was silenced by Momo rushing to me and covering my forehead with her hand. I jumped at how close we were. “You're burning up! C'mon! You can have a guest room.” She makes some medical masks for the group but Tsu backs me up. “Momo I think you’re overreacting.. Kero.” But she doesn't stop to hear reason, only dragging me through her maze of a house and shoving me into a room. “There should be a maid coming. Once she’s here she’ll give you something to wear.” And before I could say anything she closed the door. What the fuck. Why the fuck. I thought this was the training arch not the filler episode. I swear to god if one of the boys walks in on me changing I will murder. 

Thank god that wasn't the case. A maid got me some silk jammies and directed me to another room. It wasn't until I walked in did I realize it was Momo’s room. And holy crap was she a hero fan damn- I’m talking hero’s of all shapes and sizes. Ethnicities and races. Genders of all kinds. Some of the posters were black and white while others were neon and vibrant. All were framed and signed on the wall parallel to the door. “Holy-” I started but Momo caught me. “Y/n! It's good to see you out first!” She says just loud enough from her king size canopy bed. Her bedroom- in length- was the size of me and Midoryia’s rooms connected and then some. On the wall to my right were instruments, a desk, and cubicles for storage while the rest of the room was empty. Well scratch that, there was a rug. But it was small and a bright white, a needed contrast with the equally white was and dark floors. “Yeah.. um.. How do you know my size..?” I ask while motioning to my pjs. She laughs lightly. “Cmon! Come sit on my bed!” OKAY just leave me in the dark on that creepy fact then. Wordlessly I wander to the bed and take a sit right beside her. “So Y/n, tell me about yourself.” I glance up at her and play with my hair. “I'm not that interesting, trust me.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Oh please! There must be more to you than your quirk! I know I’m more than mine!” She assures. I kick my legs and think for a moment. “I'm a big nerd. I love fantastical worlds, and possibilities that probably won't happen. For better or worse.” I say with a nervous chuckle. “Really?” She asks. I nod and humor her. “YEah- I uh.. I write, draw, sing, creative stuff mostly. But I don’t think I’m that creative honestly.” She loosens her posture. “Well then, prove it!” I jumped at her request. “O-Oh um- I don't think-” 

“Madam, the other guests are ready!” A maid calls after a knock. Momo sighs “Let them in then!” With that the maid from before lets in the rest of the group, all in t-shirts and pajama pants/ shorts. Aside from Iida. He has a classic set of pajamas and a nightcap to go with the ensemble. “Thank you so much for the pj’s Momo!” Ochoko says with a smile, rushing up to us and hugging her in gratitude. “Oh it’s no problem at all.” “What were you guys talking about kero?” Tsuyu prompts. “Oh-” Momo starts but i cut her off. “Oh nothing interesting!” She glances at me and lightly slaps my arm. “Nonsense. Y/n was just telling me about their hobbies. Apparently they write and do art!” Tokoyami perks at this. “What do you write L/n?” I scratch the back of my neck “Ahahahaha- wouldn’t you like to know..” Tenya’s eyes narrow. “Certainly nothing unsavory? Right Y/n?” Fuck his glasses are reflecting light- f u c k. “Oh nooooo! Nothing like that. Mostly self indulgent romantic crap, some angst-“ Izuku gasped. “Y/n! You write angst!?” Of course Midorya’s the only one who knows that I’m talking about. “Strange. Why is your face a rose then?” Tokoyami teases. His tone says otherwise but that knowing glance is dangerous. “Ahahahaha- Tokoyami you jokester-” I get up close to him and say through my teeth. “You cant out me like this man-! Not here!” Over my shoulder I hear Ochoko laugh. “You remind me Jiro-chan, Y/n. She always gets flustered like this when she’s embarrassed.” I back up from Tokoyami and turn to the group. “Wait what?”

“Oh! You don't know Jiro, but she's so smart and talented.” Ochoko says. “Oh yeah, I know her.” I say casually but when I see Momo’s eyes widen I try to recover. “Me and my dad saw her on the TV. Y'know during UA’s annual sports festival. She had dangles on her ear lobes right?” I scratch the back of my neck for a moment to sell it. Thankfully Momo took the bait because she slowly nodded. “That’s her. She is very smart. Don’t underestimate her when you meet her.” Tyu nods. “What was her score on the midterms?”  Midorya hums for a moment. “I don't remember if she told us, but she was up there in ranking..” Before Izuku could go on a mumbling tangent, Iida inquired on the subject. “Seventh in class ranking I think.” The group hums in agreement before turning back to me. “What were you on about before Y/n?” I think a moment before remembering. “Oooh!” I snapped my fingers. I exhale a little at my idiocy. “I just forgot that you guys use titles normally. I was just a little confused.” Tenya’s glasses brightened in the light. Crap. “Shouldn’t you have researched on Japanese culture before you came to Japan Y/n?” He gets up close to me as he says that. “Uhh well.. yasee- I was kind of in a rush to get here and I don't have a phone anymore.. My dad thought it would be a great idea to take away my phone before I go to a whole ‘nother country soooo..” Great job Y/n. Nothing like feeding into the idiot father trope. Dad would be so proud of your creative genius. “And I've been so busy with school and my room..”

“Wow.” the group mumbles. “YEeeeah.. Not the brightest bulb.” I mumble dryly. “Well, surely we can teach you a few things.” Midorya counters. “No one is hopeless unless they don't bother to try! And you want to try don't you?” He says with that signature baby boy smile. I laugh a little at that bright fire in his eyes. That want to help is gonna make him a great hero one day. “Of course! If you guys can teach me that is.” I looked over at the group. Collectively they nod. Que the anime montage.

I was woken up by Midoya at twelve. Am not pm mind you. Momo was kicking us out. “I’m sorry! My parents just called and said they were on their way back home as we speak!” She defended sadly as me and Midorya were finishing up getting our shoes back on. Apparently because of my sleeping habits, Midorya had to watch all of his other friends leave until it was just him and Momo alone in her house together. “Dude, it's okay. Calm down.” I said with a slightly worried smile. Midorya was patiently waiting for me outside with a new duffle bag of his clothes for the night before and some new ones that Momo gave him this morning. “It was an honor staying here for the night Yaoyorozo-sama.” I say with a bow once both my shoes are on. She gasps, a light blush covering her cheeks from the title. But she smiles nonetheless. “It is an honor to meet you too, Y/n-san. And please, call me Momo.” She says with a smile, bowing after. We both rise and I smile back to her before walking out the door. “Y/n-chan, what took you so long?” Midorya asked. “Nothin. Just telling Momo thank you. And chan? Really?” He laughs. “What? Don't like being babied?”

“Oh screw you.”

[itssimonbeck]

my favorite Khonjin House quotes in ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ chronological order

“I think it’s time to order a PEP-PEP-PEP-PEPperoni pizza”

“You can’t do this, Gay Spaghetti Chef!” “Kid... It’s just Gay Spaghetti now”

“Actually it’s a silent D. It’s pronounced “Jeffrey”“

“he͝ļlo son҉“

“but that’s a different plate of cookies for a different glath of milk”

“Do you even know what 9/11 is?! I WAS THERE!!!!!!!! on those planes”

“do not touch it” “why” “it’s just a little scooty” “what” “you know, it’s just a little scooty, don’t f u c k w i t h i t”

“WOW YOU FUCKING ASSHO O O O O O O O O O O O O O”

"The only C I can explain, are the C4 explosives planted under the floorboards." “What” “This whole place is going to hell.” “This can’t be!” “You’re right. Cause it’s C. Four. I planted the bombs. As previously stated.”

“Dear Mr. Fratelli, You may already be a winner.” *8000% VOLUME SMASH BROS VICTORY JINGLE*

“Unfortunately for Gino... He will never find the chiwowwow.”

“how about you get me a PSPiece of pizza or you can Nintendo 64get about ever surviving!”

“Here’s-a your pizza! With extra pizza!”

“EVERY- FUCKING- SHITTY-ASS SPAGHETTI PIECE OF SHiT!” *crash* “OH SHIT NOT AGAIN OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO0000000000000000″

“Hey, you! You like pizza?” “EƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎ“

“It’s right here!” “That’s a wrench.” “Oh, I- I could have sworn this was a... a thermometer-” *WHACK*

“YAO IDIOT”

“*speaks Japanese*” [How easily you forget... ...I had the pepperoni pizza all along.]

“The following advertisement is anadvertisement.”

“Members of the jury, Gino says I’m fucking idiot.”

“I rest.” *collapses*

"Alright, boys. The heist is very ssssimple.            Kay. A rival gang set up shop right. Across the street.           Gay Spaghetti.          Okay? From the pizzeria.      You fuck. Their main export;          ᵖᵉᵖᵖᵉʳᵒⁿᶦ ᵖᶦᶻᶻᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵈ” “So... If we steal-a the pepperoni... No more pizza bread.” “Precisely, ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵘᶜᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᶦᵈᶦᵒᵗ. Rob the place of every peppy. I want every peppy, on my desk, by the... The 69th...          hour...      Four... 420 days.    From now.” *the entire cast cracks up*

“Rob the place of every f u c k boy. I want every desk on my desk.”

“Oooooooooooh.    The map is spaghetti”

“Khonjin. Just give us the pepperoooni.”

“WELCOME TO THE KING OBSTACLE COURSE TO BECOME THE KING YOU MUST GET THROUGH THE FUCKING THING READY GOOOOOOooooo”

“It looks like a magic”

“Do I look like someone who knows what the hell. That is. Because I am. What was your question?”

“A real shark would never fall for such a stupid trick! Wait a second. A shark would never fall for that. And if he was a shark, why is he at the newsroom, if there’s no news in the ocean? And why are his legs comprised of the seven Chaos Em-OH SHIT IT’S THE BIOLIZARD”

“ᵂᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵇᵒᵈʸ, ᵐʸ ʷᶦᶠᵉ ᶦˢ ᵃ ᵇᶦᵗᶜʰ, ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ ᴺᶦᶜᵏᵛᶦˡˡᵉ ˢᑫᵘᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʳʸ ᶜˡᵘᵇ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒᵗᵒʳᶦᵒᵘˢ ᶠᵒᵘʳᵗʰ ʰᵒˡᵉ ʷʰᶦᶜʰ ᶦˢ ᵃ ᵖᵃʳ ²⁶. ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ, ᶦᵗ ᶦˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴬᵖᵖᵃˡᵃᶜʰᶦᵃⁿ ᵐᵒᵘⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿ ʳᵃⁿᵍᵉ. ᴺᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉˢˢ, ᴷʰᵒⁿʲᶦⁿ ᶦˢ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗʳᵒᵏᵉ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵛᶦᶜᵗᵒʳʸ. ᴹᵘᶜʰ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵐʸ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᶦˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗʳᵒᵏᵉ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵃᵛᶦⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ᶦⁿʰᵉʳᶦᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐᶦˡʸ ᶠᵒʳᵗᵘⁿᵉ. ʸᵉˢ ᶦⁿᵈᵉᵉᵈ, ʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵐᶦˡˡᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒˡˡᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒⁿ ᵐᵃⁿ. ᴴᵉ ˢᵒˡᵈ ᵇᶦᶜʸᶜˡᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵍˡᵉˢˢ ᶜʰᶦˡᵈʳᵉⁿ. ᴳᵒᵗᵗᵃ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᶦᵗ. ᴼʰ. ᴬⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ THE SHOT- IN ONE SHOT! WHAT A BBBBEAUUUUUUTIFUL SHOT! THE SHOT IS SO GOOOOOD! IT’S OVER! KHONJIN HAS WON THE GGGGGAAAAAME”

“Khonjin, you’ve just won. The 4th. Grand slam. Golf tournament. In Africa”

“We have the pepperone pazzi”

“I’m gonna teach you how to speak English. Repeat after me. my unununultra fufulf GYEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎH and my ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵘᶜᵏˢ rememberɹǝqɯǝɯᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ thɥthɥʇat one. My fblɟqlɟqɟfblɟqlɟqɟfblɟqlɟqɟ eugh.“                          “ᵉᵃᵗ ᵗʰᶦˢ ˢᵘᶜᵏᵃ”“ʷʰʸ ᶦˢⁿ’ᵗ ˢʰᵃᵈ ʰᵉʳᵉ””ʸᵉᵃʰ!”“ᵍᵒ”“NOW THIS OUGHTA STOP THAT PIECENJAHDNKSLCJBHJBJSJBFSEHJABHJ”

“I ain't gunna play cards with some bitchy fishy tryna play with the sharks, so how about you grab yourself a towel and get out the pool.“

“But like an elephant on 9/11, I never forget”

“WHERE’S MY SLICE OF PIEZZA”

“ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵛᵒᶦᶜᵉ ᵃᶜᵗᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒᶦⁿᵍ”

“We’re not going to Six Flags. We’re going on a hit.”

“If I a-were a target... Where would I hide?”

“How we supposed to- wait”

“IIIII’VE GOT THE NET” “TAAAAAKE THIIIIIIIIS” “Oh my God” “FINALLY. I can return... to Kingda Ka”

“Some people want to make it their own way, but I like to make it the Gay way”

“Dear Diary. Today I’ve decided to stop wasting my time with habits that just are fucking dumb.”

“Dear Diary. Gino is Gino.”

“The graphics look like they were drawn by a four year old. With the talents of Pablo Picasso. In his prime. Which is what I would have said, if I liked the graphics. Which I do. Not.” “Fascinating.”

“And that’s why I give this game a five out of five. Billion. It fucking su-”

“Gino. Touch this bow~” “I’m- I’m not touching that bow.” “How about- eh~" *Gino gets a bow* “I knew it! It’s a bow that makes bows. We can sell them for four dollars a piece. Cold hard cash. Or credit.”

“HOW MAY I HELP YOU”

“Alright I’m taking a look here, says you’ve been making pizza for five... minutes. Under wage you wrote... A GameCube.” “I know what I want, and I know what I deserve.” “Oh, that’s great, I’m glad you know, but uh- I don’t- I don’t know what the fuck a GameCube is.” “Look here, bossman, these three words are non-negotiable. Super. Monkey. Ball.”

“So it says here your name is Gay Skateboard Man?” “YEEEEEEEUS *cracks up*”

“Yes, I’m fr- *clears throat* America. I am from America.”

“NEGADAD.”

“RULING THE GALAXY.”

“OH SHIT O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0″

“Why are you after a baby, you psychopath?!” “Alright you wanna know so bad? The baby stole my gun.”

“What was so important that you had to leave your gun?! Outside?! For anyone to take?” “This frisbee.”

“heY freD. it’S mE, yogI BEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎEƎ“

“woof woof bark bark BARNEY MY PUEBLOS”

“I knew you would sneak in through the pipe, SO I TURNED MY BASE INTO A GIANT PIPE!”

“Who taught you how to cook? Papa John? Or as you call him. Daddy.”

“HOW DO I GET TO THE INTERNET?!”

“Gino, you didn’t tell me that CrabCrab was a Crab!”

“PSYCHIIIIIC net”

“Have you thought of picking up garbage? And selling i-*cracks up*”

“Khonjin! there’s a crazy penguin prize!”

“backetball is my middle name”

“I’ve learned all the racial slurs in existence. And I will recite them now.”

“Gay Spaghetti Cheeeeeef~ is back”

“Ultimately Cory had to be evacuated for safety. He later opened a Quiznos to moderate success.”

[Gino says the fucking N-word] “WHAT” “Get your Bobby Childs™ brand Bobby Childs™ T-shirt!”

“Hello welcome to Fratelliano’s pizza would you like to purchase WinRAR”

“Send in the missiles.” “Oh yes sir absolutely coming right up”

(in not even close to Gino’s voice) “Khonjin I just remembered I don’t know how to sing Amore and I’m not Italian”

[the--blackdahlia]

Armageddon Chapter 1 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Armageddon Chapter 1

Summary: Space. The Final Frontier. But for Dean Winchester, space was the last place he thought he would ever go. His family life isn’t perfect, his job isn’t ideal, but he has (Y/n), the woman he loves. Sam Winchester never thought his life would turn out the way it did. He is divorced, alone, and his brother most likely hates him. Working for NASA was not going to be easy. But, when a threat to the earth has him calling on his family for help, what can he do? can Sam and Dean push past his family issues to keep the Earth spinning another day? Based on the movie of the same name.Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Jessica

Chapter Warnings: Brief language, implied sexual content, the beginning of impending doom.

AN: Check out my Patreon to get access to fics before they come to Tumblr! Also, I am doing a song for each chapter like I did with This Life. The song for this chapter is Can’t Stop Loving You by Van Halen. This was written by @flamencodiva and myself.

 Another late day at the office. Sam Winchester groaned as he pulled into the driveway of his house. It was quiet and empty. It had been almost five years since he and Jessica had split. She went back to a house her parents owned in San Antonio, and Sam stayed in Houston. So he always came back to an empty house.

Well, he had Sadie. His always faithful dog there to keep him company. But Jess was gone, and so was their adorable little boy. Sam got time with him, but not near as much as he had wanted. Work kept him busy though, so he didn’t have a lot of time for him to come around. Sam made his way into the house, Sadie there to greet him from her backyard kennel. Sam let her in, scratching her ears.

“At least I have you girl.” He smiled at his dog and hung his keys on the hook by the door. The house was pretty quiet, just the humming of the AC and the fridge running. Sam loosened his tie and pulled off his jacket, tossing them on the island in the middle of the kitchen. He knew that there wasn’t much in those light wood cabinets. There was some beer in the fridge, and some leftovers from dinner the previous night.

But he had a couple days off to relax and buy some groceries now. And maybe he could convince Jess to let him have a day trip with Ashton to the zoo or something. He missed that kid dearly. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Sam tried to relax a bit. Grabbing a plate with leftovers, he placed it in the microwave. He cracked his neck some trying to relive the tension in his shoulders. Once the microwave beeped, he grabbed his beer and food and made his way to his TV. Settling in, he had leaned back to relax when the phone rang. With a groan, he reached for it and sighed.

“Winchester?” Sam rubbed his eyes.

“Sam,” the voice sounded urgent. “We need you to come back in, something’s happened out on the coast.”

“Are you kidding? I just got home.” Sam sighed.

“Look, I don’t care if you come in in your sweats and a Barbie t-shirt. I need you to get here and get here now.” The voice said. “Sam, listen, it’s bad. Real bad.” Sam closed his eyes and led Sadie back out to the kennel.

“I’m on my way.”

***********

Gulf of Mexico

John Winchester stood at the edge of the rig, watching the protestors on the boats, screaming about fracking and how they were harming the environment. John chuckled a little and looked over at Ash, who was setting up a golf tee.

“Can you believe this?” John asked, motioning at the boats.

“What?” Ash asked.

“How the hell do they think those boats run? Fairy dust and unicorn farts?” John laughed. “You should be thanking me!” John yelled over to them, knowing they probably couldn’t even hear him. Ash handed John his golf club and smirked as he lined up his shot.

“Fore!” John yelled, driving the ball towards the boat. Ash picked up his night briefing while John teased with the protestors. “God Ash, what could be better than this?”

“John, number 2 chewed through 180 feet last night,” Ash told him. John smirked and turned to look at Ash, who was trying to hide the smile on his face.

“And who do we have to thank for that?” John asked. Ash cleared his throat.

“Well, I’ll give you two guess, but you’re only going to need one,” Ash explained. John growled a little.

“Damn it, Dean!” John yelled out as he threw his club down. “I’m gonna kill him.” He marched away from his homemade driving range and headed towards the room he knew Dean was sleeping in. He smacked the door hard. “Dean! Get up!” John yelled.

Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes. He could hear his dad’s angry voice on the other side of the door and realized what was going on. John threw open the door as Dean jumped up wearing just his boxers and a tank top.

“Oh good, you’re in bed,” John said.

“Uh, hi dad…” Dean said. “You looking for me?”

“No, I’m looking for James Dean,” John said. “Of course I’m looking for you!” He walked towards Dean, who backed up.

“Look, I know you’re pissed and…” John held up a hand, silencing Dean.

“Dean, you’ve seen me pissed,” John grumbled. “What I’m feeling right now? Well, I would say that this is beyond pissed.” He gave an angry smirk as he glared at his eldest son. “Tell me, Dean, did I or did I not shut down number two last night?”

“Yeah, but I had a hunch and…” Dean started, but John raised his hand again to stop him from speaking.

“Okay Dean, let me tell you something,” John started. “Someday, many years from now when I’m in the ground, and you’re running this, you can make the decisions to run the drills at night. But as long as I’m breathing, you disobey my rules, you have to deal with the consequences. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Dean said. John raised an eyebrow. Normally Dean argued. Today, it was like he was trying to get him out of the room. “I screwed up, and I’m sorry. Now I will just think about the choices I made and work to make myself better.” Dean said, trying to usher John towards the door.

“What’s going on here?” John asked.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, trying to play innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He was now trying to keep John’s attention on him.

“Dean, you’ve been alive for thirty-five, and you’ve never once apologized to me this quickly.” John narrowed his eyes at John. John’s eyes scanned the room and found a black and white, lacy bra hanging off the bed. “Dean…”

“I uh, it might be Ketch’s…” Dean’s eyes widened a little and John turned around, stopping (Y/n) from going any farther.

(Y/n) froze in her spot, she was lucky to even be able to button Deans flannel enough to cover what she needed. She closed her eyes and cursed softly. Hanging her head in defeat, she cleared her throat.

“Hi John,” She muttered staying in her spot. John turned to look back at Dean.

“(Y/n), put some clothes on.” John looked at his son. “You, wait here. I’ll be right back.” Dean took off out the backdoor then. John went to his office.

“What’s going on?” Ketch asked, looking over from his controls.

“My son is dead,” John said, getting his shotgun. “I’m gonna stuff him and mount him and use him as a teaching aid on why you don’t screw around with my best friend’s daughter.”

(Y/n) having gotten dressed rushed out of the room and put herself between John and Dean.

“John, don’t!” She looked him in the eye.

“(Y/n), move,” John said, pointing his shotgun at Dean. (Y/n) looked over at Ketch for help, who just raised his hands. He wasn’t getting involved.

“John, you’re being ridiculous,” she stood firm not even letting Dean move her out of the way. “You both are behaving like children, and if that clock is right… we have investors coming on in five.” she nodded her head towards the clock and raised her eyebrow at John. John lowered his gun.

“Go get dressed,” John said. “(Y/n) use the room. Dean, up in the office. Now.” (Y/n) gave Dean a look before heading back towards the room to provide Dean with some clothes and to get dressed. Dean looked back at John.

“Dad, man to man, I love her,” Dean said.

“I still have time to shoot you,” John said. (Y/n) handed Dean some clothes then went to change.

“Do you really think that low of me?” Dean asked, taking the clothes and heading to the office. “Is it because I’m not in some cushy office job like Sam? Because look how that turned out for him.”

“Dean, I don’t want to do this right now. Just go get into your uniform.” John growled. Dean sighed and headed to the office, changing into the jumpsuit he wore while drilling.

(Y/n) shook her head at John, “You know he worked his ass off to finish school. He’s working on his masters, and you can’t even see that he is a good man, John. My dad wouldn’t treat him like this, and you know it.” (Y/n) shook her head as she adjusted her business attire and fixed her hair. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a tour to give.” With that, she left the room giving a soft smile to Dean as she passed him.

**********

NASA Headquarters

Houston Texas

Sam sat at the conference table with other people just as confused as he was. They were waiting on the full report, but so far, all they knew was that a large meteorite had fallen somewhere on the east coast and had caused lots of damage. He knew that the media would eat it up and would be showing up at their doorstep soon to demand answers. But that’s the problem. They didn’t have any answers.

“I know about as much as you guys do.” Director Robert Singer said as he settled at the head of the conference table. “Has anyone been able to figure out anything?”

“It took out one of the space stations.” One of the men said. “There was no time to get them out of the way.”

“Shit,” Bobby grumbled. “What else?”

“We’ve been mapping the trajectory,” Another scientist said. The woman pushed her glasses onto her face. “We have estimated the ETA to hit the earth at about 22 days.”

“Why the hell was something like this not brought to my attention sooner?” Bobby asked.

“It just changed courses suddenly,” Someone else said. “We’ve been trying to see if it would change again, but it’s kept a steady path this time.”

“Damn it!” Bobby hit the table. “Shit like this happens, you tell people. This could cost lives.” He motioned at the sky. “Shit. What are we supposed to do now?”

"Sir, we could right now try and measure the object and see if our satellites can figure out what it is” a voice from the end of the table spoke up. “We could also try to pinpoint where it will hit exactly, and a time frame on how to try and destroy it." Charlie Bradbury, one of the scientists who had just transferred from Florida, explained to them. "We would then need to come up with a plan, once we know more."

“Well?” Bobby said looking around the room. “What are you all waiting for? Get moving! Ya Idjits!” Everyone jumped up and started to get to work. Bobby looked over at Sam. “We really stepped in it this time, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam said. “I’ve been sitting here, doing the calculations and everything.”

“I trust your math Sam, I do. But right now we need one hell of a plan to figure out what the hell we’re dealing with.”

“Director Turner is on the phone now trying to get some answers.” Bobby sighed. “But I think he’s dealing with the president. And you know how well he likes to get answers and give out blame.” Sam chuckled a little. He had been on his fair share of those calls.

Sam and Bobby made their way toward Director Turner’s office. Rufus was sitting at his desk, on the phone with the President. He kept trying to open his mouth to talk. As Sam and Bobby approached Rufus’s desk, a scientist ran by and place a paper on his desk.

“Can we stop calling it an anomaly, what is this thing?” The President’s voice dripped with annoyance.

“This just in,” Rufus stated. “It’s an asteroid.”

“An asteroid?” The President asked. “How big is it?” Rufus read the paper.

“It’s diameter according to the Hubble telescope is approximately 96.7 Billion….” He shook his head and looked up at Bobby and Sam. “It’s the size of Texas Sir,” Rufus drawled. Sam placed his hand to his mouth to stifle his laugh. If this had been another time and place, Sam could imagine the color words that Rufus would’ve used to describe the asteroid.

“Why didn’t you detect this sooner?” The president was all but angry. Rufus had to grip the phone, or he was going to scream at him. Bobby could see the smoke coming out of Rufus’s ears as the anger bubbled up.    

“Well, our object collision budget’s a million dollars. That allows us to track about three percent of the sky.” Rufus drawled. “Begging your pardon sir, it’s a big ass sky.”

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af @feelmyroarrrr  @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog 

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @queenslandlover-93 @screechingartisancashbailiff @strab0 @maaryisafangirl @deathofmissjackson @luciathewinchestergirl @sheris532 @bobasheebaby @bella-ca @akshi8278

Supernatural Tags:  @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories @huntingfreewill

[edmundogough-blog]

How Big Do Brown Trout see?

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