#let me know if you guys like the new alphabet better or the old one

[scribblesofagoonerr]

For what it's worth, I'm sorry and I don't really hate you | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, F - For what it's worth, I'm sorry and I don't really hate you

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Hello, I'm back with part 6. Sorry it's been a bit of a wait, life gets in the way and makes it hard to write, but here's the next part. I honestly don't know how many chapters this will have because I'm really enjoying writing it, so hey ho, I might even just make this one small fic series of many ideas' I currently have in my head :)

I don't know if this chapter does make much sense at all and non of it's been proof read again, so it could be a bit all over the place but please let me know what you think!

Thank you for all the ongoing support so far, it's overwhelming to see how much that you all love this, and it gives me motivation to continue to write!

My asks are open for anyone to drop me an any ideas' on this fic or anything else that people would like to see be written, however, I am only comfortable writing anything platonic though :)

You're progressing well to get better and you're slowly returning to usual happy, self chaotic self.

TW: angst and mentions of SH, MH, suicide and death.

"So, what's the food in this place like then?" Kyra broke the silence in the room, where all the girls were all crowded in as they came to visit you in the pysch ward of the hospital during the visiting hours.

It had been 46 hours since you had been detained, 46 hours since you all but shouted at Leah that you hated her.

You really did regret it.

You didn't actually mean that though, and you had been feeling terrible about it ever since the words escaped your mouth.

"Seriously, Kyra?" Steph stares at the younger Australian in disbelief.

"What? I'm just trying to make conversation here" Kyra replies, shrugging her shoulders.

Caitlin can't help but snort. "And you decide to start with asking what the foods' like?" she teases the twenty-one-year-old.

"Yeah, cos' I've heard that hopsital food is disgusting and all" Kyra remarks to the older girl, sticking her tongue out at her.

"Very mature" Steph rolls her eyes at the two of them.

"So, what is the food like then?" Vic asks, peeking interest to know the answer.

"Terrible, I think that even Leahs' cooking might be better than what they're serving on the menu here" You can't help but grin cheekily.

"Ouch it must be bad then" Beth joins in with the joke.

"You'd better not let her hear you say outloud or I think she'd been offended" Viv tells you as she can't help but smile slightly, just happy to see you slowly returning to your old self.

"So, she didn't come with you guys then?" You ask as you pull at the sleeves of the hoodie you currently had on.

You don't miss the look that all the girls share with one another. You weren't an idiot to know something was going on.

"Just tell me what's going on" You stare at them all, trying to get an answer out of them.

"She's outside in the waiting room with Lia" Jen admits, exhaling a sigh.

"Oh" Your smile falters at the disappointing news.

"She wanted to come in with us Y/N but it was hard for her" Beth explains on behlf of the blonde, who you miss terribley. "I'm sure when she's ready, she'll come and see you" she adds, trying to keep the hope alive.

You really had messed up with what you said, you doubt that she would want to visit you, nor would she want you to come back to the flat where you lived with her.

"Oh uh, well then that's okay I guess, I mean I don't blame her for not coming cos' what I said was horrible and stuff" You make up an excuse as you find sudden interest with the floor beneath you.

"It's not your fault for being angry, Y/N" Katie pats you on the shoulder.

"How're you feeling now?" Alessia asks, concerned as a way to try and change the subject.

"Is this your way of subtly asking me if I'm going to try and attempt to kill myself again?" You glance around at all of the girls' faces in the room.

"Y/N" Kim shoots you a disapproving look.

"The answers no by the way" You mumble quietly.

"Y/N" Kim repeats again, a bit louder.

"What? You know I like to make dark humour jokes in this type of situation. It's just a coping mechanism" You tell your captain as you hold your hands up in mock-surrender, who continues to look at you with a certain look that makes you back down straightaway. "Alright, okay, I'll tone it down with the death jokes" You mumble, slouching further down in your seat.

"How's she been doing?" Leah stands in the reception area of the hospital and fumbles with her hands, as she speaks to one of the doctors.

"Y/N has making good progress. I think another day or so and she'll be ready to come home" The doctor explains with a kind smile.

"That's great news" Lia says, smiling as she glances at the blonde for her reaction.

Leahs' eyes widen in surprise and smiles slightly. "Yeah, that's good to hear. I'm proud of her making so much progress in such a short space of time" she tells the doctor.

"It is, Y/N/N has really thrown herself into trying to get better, the therapy sessions seem to be going well too" The doctor tells them honestly. "Are you going to go and see her? I'm sure that she'd love to see you" she adds.

The blondes feels apprehensive, her eyes dart over in the direction of where the doors led to the psych ward, where you would be with the rest of the girls that had all visited.

Leah had wanted to as well, she just couldn't find the courage to actually take the steps and dipped out at the last minute.

"I hate you, Leah" The words that you shouted at her, played in her head on a constant loop.

"Uh, I don't know about that. I'm not sure if she's going to want to see me" Leah confesses, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Le, you don't know that" Lia squeezes the blondes' shoulder gently as she tries to reassure her.

"I know that she hates me, Wally. You heard what she said before" Leah replies quietly, shaking her head as she takes another glance towards the doors.

"You know that she didn't mean that, Le. You know she is just a kid with a lot of feelings sometimes" Lia tells the blonde, smiling at her.

Leah looks a bit more apprehensive as she shakes her head. "There was so much hatred in her voice when she said, it felt like she did mean it" she disagrees with her.

"She was angry the other day though, Le and you even said that yourself" Lia reminds the younger girl.

Leah hums as she bites her bottom lip "But what if she doesn't want to see me? I know she's going to be angry with me for leaving her here in this place" she admits to the older girl.

"She's been asking for you every day since she has been here" The doctor pipes in, gently smiling at the two girls.

"Really?" Leah asks, blinking in slight surprise.

"Yes, Y/N has told me about the visits from all of the girls but the only person she mentioned that she actually wants to see is you, Leah" The doctor tells the blonde.

"See?" Lia smiles at Leah and sqeeuzes her shoulder. "I told you that I don't think Y/N could ever hate you or be angry, you know that, Le" she insists.

"I know" Leah bites her bottom lip anxiously, taking another glance at the door ahead. "I just can't help but feel horrible for making the decision and I'm weary incase she resents me for it" she admits, quietly.

The doctor frowns at them both. "I know it must have been hard to be the one to make that call but it was for the right one to give her the best possible chance to get better" They explain.

"You shouldn't be blaming yourself for this, Le. It's what was needed" Lia repeats the doctors words, so to speak.

"Yeah, yeah I know" Leah admits, pulling at the sleeves of her hoodie that she had on.

"You're nervous to see her?" The doctor asks, making the brief observation.

Leah can't help but snort slightly. "That obvious?" she jokes.

"I've been in this job for a while now, it's easy enough to pick up on things like this" The doctor chuckles amusedly. "Regardless of what may have been said, I have a feeling that Y/N will be happy enough to see you" They add in.

"SNAP" You scream loudly as you slam your hand down on the deck of cards that are on the table. "HA! I win!" You cheer in glee.

Kyra let's out a irritated huff while she glares at you. "Why are you so vicious with this game?" she asks.

"I want to win" You smirk and stick your tongue out at her, pulling the deck of cards towards you.

"Kyra, you're literally losing a child" Vic chips in, watching the game amusedly.

"Said child is a menace" Kyra mumbles as she pouts.

"Sucks to be a loser" You can't help but quip as you reshuffle the deck of cards in your hand.

"Room for a couple more visitors?" Leah pokes her head round the door and braces herself for your initial reaction to seeing her.

"LE!" You dart up from your seat and run to the blonde, abandoning the game of cards completely.

All feelings of anger had been swept aside as you were just happy to see her in the room. You thought you'd blown it when you told her that you hated her.

"Hi bubs" Leah instantly embraces you in her arms and kisses the top of your hair. "I've missed you, Y/N/N. I'm so sorry I haven't been to visit you" she apologises.

"S' okay, you're here now" You mumble, burying her head in her chest as you refuse to let go off her.

"Oi I'm here too, you know" Lia jokes playfully, knowing that you would want that moment with just the blonde.

"Yeah, yeah. Hi Wally" You grin cheekily at the older girl before you turn back towards the older blonde girl. "I'm sorry for what I said cos' I didn't mean what I said about hating you, I was angry and upset and I really don't hate you I promise!" You tell her honestly.

"It's okay bubs, I know you were upset and didn't mean it" Leah smiles as she squeezes you a bit more tighter than before, being careful in case she caught any of your bandages on your arms.

Moving to sit down on the now vacant chair, Leah plonks you down on her lap as she keeps her arms wrapped around you tightly since it was apparent you weren't going to let go any time soon but she was okay with how clingy you was after she hadn't seen you in a few days.

"Whats' been going on here then?" Lia looks towards the game that was previously being played.

"We were playing cards, but Kyras' being proper salty because she's loosing now" You grin, sticking your tongue out at the Australian girl.

"How do you even loose at that game?" Steph wonders.

"I didn't know you could even loose at snap" Beth chuckles, amusedly.

"Apparently so" Jen jokes, joining in with the two of them.

Leah can't help but laugh amusedly as she runs her fingers through your hair. "The doctor said that you're making good progress" she tells you.

"Mhm" You mumble, resting your head on her shoulder.

"That's good news!" Vic overhears the conversation as she smiles at you.

"Yeah, that means you'll be able to come home soon enough" Alessia pipes in.

Katie can't help but scoff. "She should've never been here in the first place" she sneers in the direction where Leah is sat.

"Katie" Kim glares at the Irish girl.

"What? It's true!" Katie exclaims in outrage, not backing down from glaring at the blonde. "You and I both know it, we all do! She should've never been here, she should have been at home with people that care about her" she insists.

"It's what was best for her" Leah fires back just as quick.

"Was it?" Katie scowls at her.

"Can you guys please not talk about me like I'm not in the room?" You huff and glance between the two older girls.

"Sorry kid" Katie apologises.

"Sorry bubs" Leah apologises.

"Hey, Y/N/N, it'll be good that you're getting out of hospital soon enough now" Kyra slyly grins at you, looking forward to the pair of you being able to cause mischief in no time.

"Yeah, partners in crime reunited again" You grin at the Aussie girl.

"No, no! Absolutely not!" Steph protests, shaking her head. "It took me at least a week to get the ketchup of the ceiling after the last stunt that you two idiots pulled" She adds.

"I don't know what you're talking about" You try to act innocent as you slyly smirk at Kyra.

"Oh, really? So the baking soda just happened to find it's way inside the ketchup bottle, did it?" Steph narrows her eyes' in the direction of the two of you.

"Maybe" Kyra can't help the shit eating grin on her face.

"I know that look, the pair of you are definitely going to be up to no good" Viv shakes her head.

Jen chuckles in amusement. "You two willl definitely be under a careful watch now incase the next prank gets out of hand" She notes.

"Sure, cos' I'm not going to already be watched like a hawk now anyways, right?" You remark sarcastically, peering up at the older blonde.

"What do you think?" Leah replies back, raising one of her eyebrows.

"You can relax, Le. I'm not going to attempt to kill myself again any time soon" You joke, not realising that now probably isn't the best time to make any type of comment like that.

"Y/N" Kim and Leah both scold you at the same time.

You huff when you realise the pair of them are already ganging up on you and remember that being the baby of the team definitely sucks sometimes.

"What? I'm just saying, I'm not gonna, well unless Leah attempts to try and cook dinner again then it's an easy way out-- Ow! What the fuck?" You continue to make jokes about the situation at hand, jolting in shock when you feel a light pinch on your thigh from said blonde you are sat on.

"Language" Leah states sternly, giving you one of her famous glares.

"That was mean of you to do that! Too soon to make jokes about it then?" You pout and rub your thigh to try and relieve some of the pain. "Yep got it" You add, smiling innocently at the blonde.

"So, I thought you weren't going to come in because it was hard for you?" Katie scoffs at the blonde, deciding to bring the subject up now that you were out of the room, having gone to grab a drink with Jen, Steph and Beth.

"Katie" Viv glances at Katie and exhales a sigh.

"It has been hard Katie" Leah admits, biting her bottom lip.

Katie scoffs again. "Oh? I'm sorry, I'm sure it must have been so hard for you, Leah" she deadpans.

"You don't know how hard it has been, Katie!" Leah shouts loud around the room, attracting a few looks in her direction.

"Wonderful" Steph speaks up first, exhaling a sigh.

"Not again" Beth mumbles, shaking her head.

"They're fighting again, aren't they?" You huff as you walk back towards the room with Jen as you can hear the raised voices from the two girls, who weren't seeing eye to eye now

"I think so" Jen agrees.

"Fantastic" You mumble, slowly walking back into the room.

"Oh? And how do you think it's been for Y/N/N? You made the decision to keep her in here!" Katie continues to argue with the blonde, not afraid to be open about her feelings. "You haven't even visited her once while she's been here" she adds.

The Irish girl really hadn't been happy with the whole decision that had been made but there was nothing that she could do herself to stop it from happening.

It had left a tense atmosphere between the two girls and they'd shared a few cross words ever since.

"It wasn't my choice Katie!" Leah insists, continuing to argue with the fiesty Irish girl.

Katie couldn't help but scoff and roll her eyes. "Sure, but you could have said something to stop it!" she fires back at the blonde, not willing to back down from the argument just yet.

"Girls lets' not do this here" Kim looks between the two of them as she notices you walk back into the room with the older girls.

"Katie, come on, just leave it" Caitlin takes a hold of the girls' hand to try and calm her down.

However, neither of the girls were willing to back down just yet.

They were both just as stubborn as one another sometimes.

"The doctors thought it was best since Y/N/N--" Leahs' words were cut off by you, walking in right at that moment.

"Tried to kill myself, I tried to end my life, and it would have worked if Leah hadn't ran in and stopped me, so everyone thinks keeping me locked up in here it will help to keep me safe"

The room is suddenly so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

Whoops?

"Hey, at least the therapy is somehow helping to help me express my feelings now. Yay" You deadpan, plonking yourself back down on Leahs' lap as you rip open the packet of Haribo Tangfastics you had brought from the hospital shop. "So, does anyone want a sweet?" You offer, like you hadn't just said what you did.

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Four

Pairings: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: did you guys know fifty dollars back in ‘66 was like five hundred dollars??? I didn’t and now I wish I never did. Anyway I kinda just wanted to explore more of Angus and Y/n relationship before the event of the holdovers. So a little backstory on this one. I maybe got carried away. Also this is a long ish chapter cause I have MAJOR exams to take so yeah :0 it might be while till I update again.

Word Count: ~7.5k

Enjoy!

Four Years Before - June 12th, 1966

Your parents had fled to Barbados for a destination wedding which they would follow with a cruise they claimed to deserve. Although it was one of those rare occasions where they had extended an invitation, you had declined. The prospect of being able to stretch your legs on the couch without worrying if you would be crushing some unknown guest, or to be able to walk into rooms without crashing into a waiter passing out shrimp puffs, was much more appealing. You had been left behind with fifty dollars for your fun fund, as your mother called it, and a kiss on the forehead. The nanny your parents kept on retainer would check up on you occasionally only to find you were much better at cleaning up after your messes and doing ordinary tasks than your parents. She’d leave after a few hours and then over the course of the first week she stopped coming.

You had prepared yourself for a month of solitude after Angus had announced he’d be spending his vacation at a tennis camp in Montauk. You must have been reorganizing your bookshelf for the third time that day (once by alphabet, then by color, and finally by size) when you heard a knock at the door. The sun had just begun to set, the sky colored a purple-blue, and you cautiously decided to take your fathers golf club. You dropped the club shortly after opening the front door to find not the face of Norman Bates but of your best friend. You scanned his tear-stained face. His eyes were glossy and his cheeks rosy, like when one stands in the snow and is attacked by the harsh winds that nip at your skin.

He collapsed into your arms, and you are quick to hold him steady. He was crouched over, having had a growth spurt a few months earlier, making it hard for you to look at him eye to eye.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

It was the summer of ‘66, where paranoid parents were starting to believe rock music would possess you. Ironically, it was the year Pet Sounds came out and you couldn’t stop rewinding the songs on your turntable. And most significantly it was the summer you spent with Angus.

He broke the news through jumbled words and choked down tears. How his father had been placed in a Mental Health hospital and how taking him to camp was just an excuse to make sure he wouldn’t be there when the people from the hospital came to pick his father up. They had apparently come early, mixing the dates up.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” You asked, hugging his torso.

“No. I'm sure she’ll be coming to check soon though,” he sniffled, “She’ll probably try to drag me to Montauk anyway and say that ‘it’ll be good for me’.”

You kiss his curls, “What if you stay here?”

He lifts his head up, “I’m not sure she’ll let me.”

“I think she will,” you reassured, “I am a very good guilt-tripper.”

“You can try if you want. How much did your parent’s leave you anyway?”

“Enough for both of us, don't worry. Even if we run out, we could whip something up to eat.”

His eyes widened, “Let's stick to take-out.”

Your house was the first place Angus’s mother looked in, just like he had predicted. He hid at the top of the stairs, staying away from his mom's line of sight as she pressed you for his whereabouts. You had been truthful about how he wanted to spend the next few nights here.

“Are you serious? I’m not going to leave two fourteen-year-olds alone, unattended, unsupervised! God knows what you’ll get up to.”

“We’re not going to do anything!” you argued, “We’re smart enough to not light the house on fire and to dial 911, in case we happen to. Angus just wants to be away for a little while. You should understand why,” you glared.

She looked down, shuffling her heeled feet.

“Besides, you take him away now he’s just to keep coming back here,” you sighed, stating the obvious.

She cleared her throat, coughing as she nodded, “Fine. Alright. Uhm- just make sure he calls me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you do your best to stop yourself from slamming the door in her face. "Bye.”

“The coast is clear,” you shout to Angus who came barreling down the stairs, skipping the last few steps.

“Did she look mad?”

You shrug, “A little. But she'll move on.”

He hums, agreeing as his eyes flicker around the room. He’s looking at the house he must have been at least a thousand times, whether because you invited him or because your parents did. And for the first time in either of your lives… it was completely silent. …

That first night Angus slept on your bedroom floor on a mattress you had dragged from the guest room. You had only your lamp on, and your window was open just wide enough to bring in the refreshing summer air. You were reading a few pages of your book to Angus, and when you glanced down you saw his eyes beginning to close.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. You have a nice voice is all.”

“Thank you. You do want to go to sleep though,” you observe.

“Should I turn off the lamp?” He says almost immediately. He lifts himself up slightly so he can reach your bedside table and waits for your permission to turn it off.

“Yes please.” You settle deep into your duvet. You turn to the side that faces Angus and wish him goodnight.

A few minutes later he speaks up again in a whisper. “Thank you again. For letting me stay here. I'll be out of here by next week, swear.”

“If you could, I would want you to stay here your whole life.” He scoffs at your words as you lean up with the support of your elbows to stare him down. “I’m serious. I only wish I could live in a house with you. Except somewhere far away from here.”

“By the beach,” he adds.

“Yeah. On a beach so obscure they can’t even send us mail because no one will know our address.”

“Oh no. How would your parents ever send you the invitation for your debutante ball?”

“I guess they’ll just have to throw it without me.”

“Shame,” Angus sighs. “I would love to see you in a white dress.”

You pause and then crash down back into your bed. You admire the garland that hangs above you. It’s made of postcards your parents sent you during their many endeavors. In that moment you're reminded of them and turn to Angus. “Oh. About that. My mom told me to tell you to prepare to be my escort in a few years.”

“Already?!” …

You and Angus had fallen into a routine. He’d sleep way later than you, sometimes until noon, and you’d wake him when you got too impatient and hungry for breakfast. He’d stir and groan to the point that it was obvious he was faking before finally getting up.

You would carry what you could from your kitchen pantry onto the backyard patio and eat under the summer sun. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet of fig jam, English muffins and sometimes pears from the tree that stretched over your neighbor's fence. Afterward you and Angus continued your day in the green grass. He would sprawl himself out on a picnic blanket and read a comic book, wearing shades that were on the verge of tipping off his nose. Meanwhile you would tend to your mother's garden. You’d put on her straw hat too, just to make it feel like you were with her.

When you were little, you’d pull the weeds out of flower beds as your mom pruned her lavender. It was her dearest plant, and she treated them so, regularly nursing it to keep it alive. She’d motion for you to come with her and pick up the shears from the gardening shed. Eagerly obedient, you did as she said, and you would work together until called for lunch. Your mother was always a vivaciously elegant woman, always knowing the right things to say and charming anyone she met. You often wondered why you hadn’t inherited her brilliance, the one that made her seem as if she was glowing in any room she inhabited. It was odd that she’d often claim her ability to converse was her greatest ability when the two got along best when moving in silence.

You did your best to care for the plant too. Before you mom left, she asked to handle their upkeep. You took your duty seriously, checking in on them every day until you saw one sign of disarray.

That summer was like playing house. And although you never admit, for the fear that he’d read too much into and freak, it was exactly as you had often dreamed it to be. June and July passed quickly, and you hadn’t even noticed it. You imagined a life where it could just be you two forever, away from your parents and outside of stifling Massachusetts.

You imagined a life in an apartment described as ‘quaint,’ by the realtor to disguise the incredible small square footage. You wondered if he would like to be in a city like New York or Chicago. Somewhere that was always busy, and the chirping of morning birds was replaced by honking cars.

By the time August had rolled around, you could practically hear the unmistakable sound of the school bell ringing in your ear, warning you of its proximity. Thoughts about the future had you asking Angus one bleary Sunday afternoon, “Are you nervous about starting high school?”

Angus was pushing you on the tire swing, trying to give you motion sickness by twisting the ropes of the swing and letting them untangle a second later.

“Not really. It’ll be like eighth grade just with more tests.”

“I guess. But aren’t you nervous about making new friends and stuff? What if we tangled ourselves into a web so deep that we can’t talk to other people normally.”

“Then I have done my job of keeping you to myself.”

“Haha,” you deadpan, “Seriously though. Won’t you miss having me to talk to?”

“Of course I will. But you’ll write to me and crap… right?”

“Of course,” you echo his words back to him, “You’ll visit me when you get the chance too, correct?”

“Eh. If I’m not busy.”

“Angus!”

“Yes! Obviously, I will.” He pushes you a little harder.

“I do want you to be more out there though. Don’t go sulking in corners like you always do. People would really like you if you let them talk to you for more than one minute.”

“You’re starting to sound like my mother Y/n.”

“Seriously though. Did you notice we’re always addressed as ‘Y/n and Angus’ by teachers. Never just Y/n and never just Angus.”

“Yeah. But I like it. It’s like Bonnie and Clyde. You can’t separate them because then it sounds plain wrong.”

“Okay Clyde,” you roll your eyes. You stop swinging, scraping your shoes through the dirt until you are still.

“I’m giving us two weeks before we break down to each other over the phone.” You lose the hold you have on the tire swings and let them drop onto your lap. You simmer under the sun and enjoy the breeze that flows through your hair.

“Don’t go replacing me when you get to your school.”

“Don’t worry, you got a head start seven years ago. No one else will be able to catch up,” you smile teasingly. “Maybe I’ll find myself a boyfriend though. About time for the both of us, don’t you think?”

He frowns, “You don’t need a boyfriend.”

“Yes, I do. Everyone else does.”

“Since when do you do what other people do? I think you should stop talking to people who peer pressure you,” he flicks your forehead.

“Why?” You rub your forehead, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” You smirk.

“Gross! No! I was just kidding. Get a boyfriend, I don’t care.”

“You wouldn’t care if I got a boyfriend?” You look at him skeptically.

“As long as he treats you nice and shit,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s just that we do everything together Angus. There are some things I would like to get over with that I can’t do with you.”

“Like what?” Angus wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“Like hold hands and go to bowling alleys or whatever.”

“We’ve done that.”

“I like…kiss,” you whisper, fidgeting with your hands.

“Oh,” he chuckles awkwardly. “So would you want to do that … now?”

“What!” You shout, leaping off the swing and walking a few steps away from him. “I’m not asking you to,” you clarify, shaking your head.

“No, but I would like to be over and done with it too… so maybe we should just…” He motions his finger between you two.

“Uhm,” you laugh, tilting your head, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’ll be just to check it off the list,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Um, yeah, okay,” you move closer to him in small timid strides. “You lean in though. I read that the guy is supposed to do that in my mother's Cosmopolitan.”

“Right, right,” he nods eagerly, interlocking your fingers together. With hesitancy he leans his head down and pulls you even closer to the point where you are bumping your noses. You close your eyes, and it's like your brain begins to spin like those show wheels with choices on them. Your brain tries to land on a feeling but loops on endlessly. His lips are softened by the humidity, and you don’t even notice it is over until a couple seconds after he pulls away.

When you think back on it, it really was the most 'first kiss moment’ to ever exist. It was more of a peck, both of you were bright red and shortly after you were as stiff as statues. Not knowing what else to do, Angus clears his throat and removes his hands from yours to wipe them on his shirt. “So, uh, what does your mothers Cosmo say to do afterward?”

You let out a breathy laugh, “I don’t know. I didn’t read that far.”

…

Christmas Eve - December 24th, 1970

After that summer, when you shared a weepy goodbye and headed off to your own high schools, it was undeniable that something had shifted between you both. Even if it often went unspoken. Neither you nor Angus had brought it up, but on occasion you would acknowledge it. Like last night after leaving the auditorium to return to the common room and pick up the dishes, your eyes drifted to the TV where a cheesy kiss scene was happening on screen. The two of you shared a knowing look that said, “That’s not how ours went down,” before shutting the television off and helping Mary into a more comfortable sleeping position.

You tried not to dwell on the past, but it was hard not to when the only thing in your childhood that had always been good, always been constant, was Angus. Every time you looked into his eyes it was like the decade you had spent together flashed by in a sequence of blurs. All he had to do was breathe a specific way in his sleep to remind you of some obscure memory that had died but he had brought back to life.

This morning you felt like you were ten again and Angus was trying to steal your bread rolls at Thanksgiving dinner. Except today he tried swiping your bacon as you shoved him off playfully.

“Get your own Angus,” you say playfully.

“I’ll trade you for my toast,” he offers.

Rolling your eyes you accept, grabbing the bacon and shoving it in his mouth, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he says, muffled.

You munch on your toast and catch Mr. Hunhams stare.

“I see you two finally made up,” he comments with a sly smile on his face.

“Mm-hmm,” you cover your mouth with your hand as you chew and turn away embarrassed.

Mary joins you all a second later, emerging as usual with her coffee and a cigarette. She switches between eyeing the two men infront of her, “Why’d you two miss supper last night?”

Mr. Hunham and Angus freeze. “We went into town on, uh, some school-related business.”

“And you couldn’t call? You left me and Y/n out in the cold.”

“Yeah Angus,” you pout at him as he nudges your ankle under the table.

“Sorry,” Hunham turned to you, “And to Ms. L/n.”

“No worries. Really. I had fun,” you smile up at Mary who pats your shoulders gently.

Danny, a man you had been introduced to a few days ago, enters with a mop and bucket. You wave to him which he acknowledges with a slight bow of his head.

“Good morning, everybody.”

“Hi, Danny,” Mr. Hunham greets.

“Good morning. You can go on in and make yourself a plate,” Mary points to the kitchen.

“I just saw something funny,” Danny focuses onto your friend. “I walked into the gym, and somebody had vomited in there.”

Mary and you raise your eyebrows in sync.

“You don’t say. I don’t know anything about that,” Mr. Hunham feigns surprise.

“Yeah, me neither,” Angus wipes his mouth as he speaks.

“I’ll look into that right away. Thank you,” he dismisses the conversation.

“Mm-hmm. I see how it is. Trying to leave us out of your boy's club,” Mary tsks. Danny places the custodian supplies beside Angus' chair and walks away.

“Gross Angus,” you say, like it's his full name. You shake your head in disappointment. He nudges your ankle harder, shaking the silverware above. You fight back, beginning to use your hands as a defense. You two are soon in a game of tug of war.

“Knock it off you two! You are acting like fractious children!” Mr. Hunham scolds and stands up from his seat. Across the table, he tries to part your hands. “This is not how young scholarly men and women behave!”

You and Angus are too drunk on laughter to care. …

You and Angus are in a search for Mr. Hunham who stomped away upon realizing stopping you two was a fruitless cause. You intend to apologize; Angus intends to nod along as you speak. You follow the chatter you hear coming from the kitchen to find Mary replacing you as you as her sous chef.

“Hey that's my job,” you point at the potatoes Mr. Hunham is peeling.

“That’s the culinary industry for you. It’s cut-throat. You still want to be a part of it?” Mary peers over her glasses.

You run a hand through your hair, shrugging. “Um. Mr. Hunham?”

He stops his task, “Yes Miss L/n?”

“I want to apologize for my-,” Angus clears his throat, “Our behavior. You were right. It was very inappropriate. Emily Post would turn in her grave.”

“She certainly would. I accept your apology, however unnecessary. I understand it was that childlike spirit in you that is still intact that came out.”

You shoot him a quizzical look. “Uh yeah…”

Angus gasps behind you as he notices the tray of brownies on a table beside him.

“Brownies? God, yes. I want all of these.”

“Each of you just take one. The rest are for the Christmas party tonight.”

Angus snags you a brownie before practically chomping his down.

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He perks up like a dog being told he’s going out for a walk.

“Yeah, at Miss Crane’s house. I’m only gonna go for a little bit, show my face and say I was there. You know Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

“Who’s Miss Crane?” You ask, inspecting the brownie and wondering what Mary does so differently to get it to taste so good.

“School secretary,” said Angus with a full mouth. “Just one of the loveliest faculty members at Barton,” said Mr. Hunham at the same time.

A beat passed as you all noted the flustered expression that passed through Mr. Hunham face.

“Ah- anyways, she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

“If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take them.”

“Mary can take us,” problem solved, Angus thinks.

“Oh! Okay… so we are going! I packed a dress that’s been collecting dust in my luggage.”

“No, that’s not how it works. You’re under my supervision,” Mr. Hunham reminds.

“Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around reading books all day, but I am losing my goddamn mind! Jesus!” Angus' suddenness makes you flinch. You avoid the flying brownie as he storms past you.

“Hey! Watch your mouth, young man. Not on Christmas Eve!” Mary yells after him.

“You, see?” Mr. Hunham points at his retreating figure. “I can’t trust him in a social situation.”

“Mr. Hunham, if you’re too chickenshit to go to that party, then just say so. But don’t fuck it up for the little asshole or his sweet little angel of a friend! What’s wrong with you? It’s just a party. What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Hunham said so quietly you could hardly hear him.

“Shit. Now you’ve got me nervous,” Mary wipes her hands on her apron.

You’re still standing there until they hear you go retreat the brownie and throw it in a nearby waste bin. “I could replace those?” You laugh uncomfortably.

“That’s alright sweetie. I want to come out of this party with my reputation intact,” Mary winks.

“Ouch,” you clutch your heart jokingly. “So can I go get dolled up?” …

Someway, somehow, Mary had gotten Hunham to take you to the party. You got ready in the room Ye-Joon and Alex had occupied before. You hadn’t anticipated wearing anything fancy, so the dress you had was a relatively simple one. It was red which fit the Christmas theme well enough and ended just above your knees. You hoped Mr. Hunham wouldn’t make a big deal out of it like Ms. Orchard probably would. You wore flats and did your hair the best you could without products. Although you had managed to give it some more volume by using some leftover soda cans that had yet to be thrown out. It was a common hack all Janie Patrick School girls learned in their freshman year. It was practically a seminar, as the senior girls taught you how to roll them into your hair just right.

You waltz out of your room, feeling as fresh as a daisy and catch Angus shaving. You sneak up behind him, putting your hands on his shoulder and looking at him through the mirror. “What is there to shave Augie? You’re as clean shaven as a newborn baby,” you tease.

You try to check your makeup and feel Angus stiffen under your touch. You remove your hands and see him staring at you open-mouthed.

“What?” You panic. Had you screwed up your hair? Was your mascara too clumpy on your lashes?

“Nothing,” he gives you a once over as he gulps. “You just, you look, you… you look pretty.”

“Oh,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, “Thank you. It’s just the makeup.”

“No, it’s not that. You always look pretty; I just never have a reason to tell you. But I can… today.”

“You look handsome everyday too…” you fidget with your hands.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him bashfully. Quickly you take the razor from his hands, “even more handsome once you change. We’re going to be late."

You run back to your room and try to regulate your breathing. In the reflection of the fogged-up window, you admire yourself momentarily. You suppose you do look pretty tonight. …

You four travel in Mr. Hunhams rickety car. You awe at the town Christmas lights before arriving in front of what you assumed to be Miss Cranes house. One by one you all enter, lingering by the front door like wallflowers. You inch closer to Angus, self-conscious suddenly. You loop your arms together when Miss Crane enters to greet you.

“Oh, hi. Oh, you made it! Welcome,” she pauses to address you and Angus, “Aw hi!”

“I'm so glad you're here,” she tells Mary.

She laughs at the flattery and refers to the brownies, “Where should I put these?”

“Um, oh,” Miss Crane lifts the cloth draped over the tray and gasps, “Those, I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”

“Oh! You're a wicked woman.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she takes the tray off Mary's hands.

“Certainly a lot of people here,” Hunham comments, surveying the room. It is lively with Christmas classics blasting on the radio and kids running around playing tag. The entire house is decked out, almost looking like the spirit of Christmas had barfed out the decorations. Some adults take a swing of their liquor, others smoke, others do both as they chat.

“Yeah, yeah. Some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”

“That’s my mom on the couch,” She points to an older lady sitting by the silver and blue Christmas tree. Next to the woman dancing with her toddler who wears no pants. “Uh, that’s my sister Kathy and her son Marvin.”

As she continues to point out each invitee you wander with Angus further into the living room. He seems captivated by a snow globe on a mantel. He shakes it and watches as the snow falls around Santa. You too are enchanted by the sweet melody that plays from it.

“Angus!” Miss Crane snaps you both from your trance. Miss Crane stands next to a girl who appears to be around your age.

“This is Angus Tully. He’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise,” she introduces.

“Niece Elise. Nice,” he glances at you, hoping you got the joke as Elise rolls her eyes at his word play. You give him a tight-lipped smile. “And is his friend Y/n L/n. She goes to the school across the lake from Barton. Janie Patrick’s.”

“Nice to meet you,” you stretch out your hand for her to shake. She does so awkwardly.

“And this is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?

“Ancient Civilizations, yes”.

“And this is Mary Lamb. She’s the manager of the cafeteria.”

You don’t know why, but you start chewing your nails. A habit you had thought you had broken in the seventh grade. You bite down particularly hard every time Angus glances at Elise.

“Hey, why don’t you take Angus down to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition?” Miss Crane has a hint of something you can’t identify in her voice.

“Come on,” Elise tilts her head and hesitantly he seems to follow.

“Um. What about Y/n? Can’t she come?”

“Don't worry about that! I have someone I think she would like to meet,” Miss Crane nudges you forward.

“Oh?” you say worriedly.

Elise takes Angus away by the hand and distantly you hear him call out, “Wait what?”

“His name is Joseph Leery. He’s a freshman at Yale!” she gushes.

“Oh? Great? Go bulldogs? That’s the mascot, right?”

“Honey, save your charm for him!”

…

Angus descends downstairs. He repeatedly glances behind him, desperately searching for the remaining bits of your voice. “Um. Maybe I should go back upstairs? My friend Y/n doesn’t do so well with crowds so.”

“Nonsense! She’ll be fine. If I know Auntie Lydia, she’s probably introducing her to the Leery's son, Joe.”

“Joe?” Angus scowls at the name.

“Yeah. Family friend of ours.”

Elise leads him to an arts and craft table, full of scattered red, green, silver and white pipe cleaners. Glitter is spilled everywhere, and the kids take their time decorating their popsicle sticks.

“This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties. I think it’s kind of cool. There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”

“Picasso’s cool,” Angus digs his hand further into his front pockets, “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse,” He tries to mimic it as best he can.

“Yeah, I know Guérnica. You really saw it?”

“Yeah. At the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It’s huge. My dad took me.” And Y/n too, he wants to say. Although if what Elise said was true, that Miss Crane fancied herself a modern-day cupid, then he figures he should try not to scare her off by bringing up another girl.

Although it's hard not to think of you when he thinks of his dad. His dad liked puzzles which you happened to have a plethora of that your parents had bought you to keep you entertained during long plane rides. This was before they trusted you enough to leave home alone.

In the winter you’d sit by the fireplace and lay out the puzzles of Monet’s Water Lilies. Then when the spring would offer you limited warmth, you’d all be found in the backyard of Angus’s house trying to piece together Van Gogh's Starry Night.

So many art inspired puzzles eventually had Angus’s father turn to you both and asking, “How would you guys like to see these in real life?”

That easter break had you three crammed into a yellow taxicab and enjoying New York pizza slices.

“Hey Guérnica,” she breaks through his nostalgia plagued mind, “You just gave me an idea,” she smiles.

…

Mr. Hunham stands by the funky-looking Christmas tree when he feels someone’s lips crash onto his cheek.

“Oh!” He says shocked. He feels as if he had just been dumped into a cold bucket of water.

“Mistletoe!” Miss Crane laughs, pointing at the little green and red plant that hangs on the ceiling. She hands him the Jim Beam he asked for earlier as she wipes the side of his face clean to get rid of any lipstick that might have been transferred.

“Yes, of course,” he laughs along, unsure of what else to do but to let her caress his face. “I didn’t you know you were quite the mastermind.”

Miss Crane tilts her head and motions him to elaborate

“Playing matchmaker for Mr. Tully and Ms. L/n.”

“Oh! Well, when Angus said they weren’t an item I figured they’d were itching for a chance to mingle outside of their little circle. I hope I didn’t overstep anything. After all I imagine they don’t get many opportunities to openly chat with people of the opposite sex! Dating is crucial in shaping character.”

“Yes, I imagine it is,” Mr. Hunham agrees, unsure if that is fact or fiction. He is awful at letting silence just be silence, so he does what he does best. Spew nonsensical facts.

“You know, it’s interesting. Aeneas carried mistletoe with him when he descended into Hades in search of his father.”

“Oh. Huh…” Now it is Miss Crane who is unsure of what to do with that.

“Um. Anyways. I like your tree. It’s really space age,” he comments and is hit slightly in the shoulder by her enthusiastic hand.

“I brought it to commemorate the moon landing!”

“Really? Wow.”

Miss Crane takes a sip of her punch, “So where is your family this Christmas.”

“Nowhere. I’m an only child. My mother died when I was young.”

“And your father?”

“Let's just say I left home when I was fifteen.” If Mr. Hunham had known this was what small talk topics had evolved into, then he must have been right in avoiding social functions all this time.

“You ran away?” She guesses.

“Worse. I got a scholarship to Barton. And from there, I went to college and never looked back.”

“But you did a little,” she points out.

“Hmm?”

“I mean you came back here.”

“Ah.” He really did not feel like being questioned so heavily tonight. Not to pat himself in the back, but he believes he's credible enough to label himself as a decent writer, able to handle the equal weight of a pen and his words with ease. But as a conversationalist, he figures even one of the dimwits in his Ancient Civilization classes have him beat.

“It feels kind of like home I guess,” he muses, “and I guess I thought I could make a difference. I mean, I used to think I could prepare them for the world even a little. Provide standard and grounding that Dr. Greene always drilled into us.”

Mr. Hunham can feel himself run out of breath, “But, uh the world doesn’t make sense anymore. I mean it's on fire. The rich don’t give a shit. Poor kids are cannon fodder. Integrity is a punchline. Trust is just the name of a bank.”

“Well…” Miss Crane tries to soothe him by running her hand back and forth on his arm, “look, if that's all true then now is when they most need someone like you.”

Mr. Hunham knows when he is being humored and told what people he wants to hear. He looks at Miss. Crane and for the first time in a while he is looked back at with genuineness.

…

Elise and Angus finger paint on a wide piece of blank paper. He’s mixing the colors, and they all tend to come out looking a sickly brown. Elise covers her side with an untainted red. She seems to be more into it than him as she incorporates real swirls and shapes onto their canvas.

“Am I doing this right?”

“There is no right or wrong,” she reassures. He feels her stare linger on him for a second. He is scared to look up. “Are you okay? You seem… gloomy.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. But, uh, tell me about this Joe guy.”

She looks at him suspiciously, “Why?”

“Just curious. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of him around my school is all.”

“Well probably because he graduated over a year ago.”

“So, he’s in college.”

“Yes. A freshman at Yale.”

“Yale!” He shouts loud enough for even the kids to glare at him for disturbing their fun. “Sorry,” he apologies to them.

“Would you say he’s cool,” he asks a millisecond later.

Elise tries not to laugh at his blatant desperation, “Yeah I would say so.”

“Funny?”

“He's basically Gene Wilder.”

“The dude from The Producers?!”

“Yes, and he was also a football quarterback.”

“What.”

“And valedictorian, and the heir to the Campbell Soup Company.”

“What the hell? Is this guy superman or,” Angus takes a minute to recognize the smug face on Elise. Finally, she breaks out in a loud giggle.

“Oh,” Angus sighs in relief, “You’re messing with me.”

“A little,” she says through fits of laughter. “Anyways if you’re so worried why don’t you go back up there?”

“I was just worried that he would try something. But technically he sounds alright.”

“Ah. So, you’re jealous?”

Angus rolls his eyes, “No. I’m a concerned friend.”

“I’m not sure about that. Concerned friends don’t start interrogating the girl they are on a hypothetical date with.”

She leans down to point at a glob of paint in the corner of the paper, “I think you even doodled her name.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, going over it and trying to cover it up along with his embarrassment.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like this was going to go be framed at the MET.”

“What are you implying anyway,” he narrows his eyes.

“You’re going crazy being gone from her for two minutes. What do you think I’m implying?”

Angus slumps his shoulders and admits what had been ignoring. It's like a message in a bottle he threw into the sea, desperately trying to avoid the shore. Even when it does reach land, the cap is tightly sealed, clinging on to the bottle and doing it best to remain unread. When it does pop open and the paper is unfolded, although it might be difficult to read, the message still exists. It still exists even though time fought so hard to destroy it.

“I do think about her that way. Sometimes. Then the rational side comes out and tells me that it's human nature for a girl and guy friend to think about each other that way.”

“Well, does she know you think about her that way?”

“No. Sometimes I imagine she feels the same, but you’d have to know her to understand why I’m so confused. She’s the most thoughtful, kind, and perfect person in the world. It's hard to tell if she’s showing that side to everyone or if I’m special enough for her to give me that treatment.”

“You know Picasso also said that ‘Everything you can imagine is real’.”

“Are you Picasso's biographer?”

Without missing a beat, Elise smirks and says, “Yes.”

Angus is up the stairs without having thanking her, too fueled by adrenaline to practice basic manners. He’ll have to tell Miss Crane to pass on the memo. He’s on the hunt for you but is yanked into the house's kitchen by a mysterious hand.

“Hey?” He asks, disoriented.

Danny is staring straight at him, with both hands on either side of his shoulder.

“I need you to find Mr. Hunham,” he orders. Angus looks past the man to see Mary weeping heavily into the sink. Understanding, he nods firmly and is back out the door.

…

Joseph Leery is not half bad. He’s kind of funny, clever and not a bad person to pass the time with. You sit in the back of Miss Crane's living room on a couch all to yourselves. He tells you how he’s majoring in English in hopes of becoming a journalist.

“What kind of journalist?”

“Investigative. I would love to be the next Upton Sinclair. Or Seymour Hersch.”

“Ew! The Jungle made me so sick for a week after. It was so gross.”

“I know but that's what made it so great. Exposing the meat packing industry probably put him on a few hit lists too.”

“Oh yeah definitely. So, then who are you planning to expose?”

He laughs, “I don’t know yet. Is there any chance you’re planning on becoming some corrupt politician?”

“Not in the foreseeable future. I’ll let you know if I ever do,” you giggle.

“What are you planning to do then?”

“Then? Um... Like as president? I don’t know. Fund schools-.”

“No,” he laughs harder, “I mean like with college and life. Do you have anything planned out?”

“Erm, not really. My parents probably want me to go to the Ivy Leagues and crap. I should have a plan, I know, but I guess I’ve been putting it on the back burner.”

“Why?”

You shift in your seat. “I have this friend. He’s sort of had this rocky life, not I haven’t, and I know it's stupid to mold your entire life to fit around one person’s but for him I would.”

Joseph sniffs and straightens his posture. “Sorry. Lydia didn’t mention you having a boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t,” you stress, “I just really care for him, you know. We’ve known each other for so long. He’s important to me.”

“Y/n have you ever read Persuasion?” he asked suddenly.

“Um, not yet. I know the gist of it.”

“Well, it's ultimately about regret, right? Anne spends eight years longing for Wentworth when she could have been with him instead, had she not given into pressures. The point of the novel is not to wait to love the person you’re sure is it for you.”

“Love?” You hear someone say above you. You look up to see Angus, his arms stiff by his side. He glowers at Joseph. You jump off the seat and on operating on some strange reflex you go to fix his shirt collar that has stood up.

“What's wrong?”

“What were you guys talking about?” he interrogates.

“Books. Why?”

Angus doesn’t buy it but ignores the gnawing feeling in his gut, “Mary needs us in the kitchen. Go ahead, I still need to get Hunham.”

“Oh…Alright,” you turn and wave to your brief companion. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah maybe,” Joseph lifts his canned soda as if to say cheers.

You walk on ahead as Angus loiters behind, silently scrutinizing him.

Joseph takes a sip from his coke and points towards the direction you disappeared to. “Your girl went that way man.”

Angus rolls his eyes but leaves, nonetheless.

…

Miss Crane and Paul are sitting next to each other, their drink half-finished. They can feel the red tinge on their cheeks and themselves becoming looser.

“Are you planning anything special for tomorrow?” Lydia inquires.

“No. Why? Are you having a…”

“No, I just thought maybe you’d be doing something special for Angus and Y/n.”

Mr. Hunham shakes his head and Miss Crane lets out a small gasp, “You should! Help preserve some of the magic. Angus may be a little difficult, but he’s still just a kid. So is Y/n. And life catches up to them so fast. Them,” she stares at her lap, contemplating. “Ha. Us!”

“You’re a very sweet person, Miss Crane,” he compliments.

Miss Crane melts, “So are you, when you want to be,” she quips, “and it’s Lydia.”

He enjoys the feeling of camaraderie between them. He feels a cool breeze at the back of his neck and the sound of the door opening.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Miss Crane gets up and moves past him.

Mr. Hunham turns in time to see a man take off his coat, a gift under his arm. A moment later Miss Crane is there to receive him with a kiss. Together they walk away, and Mr. Hunham is left alone. Once again.

“Mr. Hunham, could you come with me, please?” Angus nearly trips as he stumbles over to the teacher.

“Yeah, what is it?” He sighs as he gets up with a groan.

“Come on, it's serious,” Angus leaps away. Peeking at him at the corner to see is Hunham is following, “Come on.”

Mr. Hunham is dragged into the kitchen, where he spots Mary, crying quietly to herself. Danny is next to her. You’re across the room biting your nails and hinting at Mr. Hunham to do something.

“Mary? You alright?” he questions, even though he knows it's in vain.

“Just leave me alone,” She mumbles.

“Want me to take you home?” Danny offers, placing what he thinks is a consoling hand on her back.

“Back off! Back off!” Mary whisper-shouts, her hands shaking down in anger. Mr. Hunham shuts the door, giving her privacy if nothing else.

“He’s gone,” she erupts into full on sobs. The mask comes off and she’s no longer Mary, the woman who appears to deal with grief like it was nothing but a bump on the road. Instead, it's Mary, who lost a son and whose grief has entirely consumed her until she can no longer breathe.

…

Angus and Mr. Hunham support Mary on both sides, as they make their way to the car. “I was right. This is why I hate parties. That was a disaster. Total disaster!”

“Speak for yourself. I was having a pretty profound conversation. I was about to make some serious life altering moves,” he blurts, angry and unable to believe his window opportunity was slammed shut. He had an internal plan. That'd he’d whisk you away from stupid Joseph and ask you to dance, maybe lead you to a mistletoe and see where it goes.

“With whom? The niece? Are you kidding me? This poor woman is bereft, and all you can think about is some silly girl.”

“I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

“I’m not talking about Elise; I'm just saying this is the first good thing that came from being in this prison with you.”

“Need I remind you it’s not my fault you’re stuck here? Do you think I want to babysit you? I was praying to the God I don’t believe in that your mother would pick up the phone, or your father would arrive in a helicopter or a submarine or a flying fucking saucer to take you-.”

“My father’s dead,”

“Angus-,” he hears you say but he holds up his hand for you to stop speaking.

Mr. Hunham stops dead in his rant, “But I thought your father-.”

“That’s just some rich guy my mom married. Give me your keys,” he sticks out his hand.

“It’s unlocked.”

Furiously, Angus stomps away. You excuse yourself from the two adults before doing your damnedest to not slip on the ice. Flats at this time of the year were not your best idea.

“Angus,” you reach him, tugging at the back of his jacket so that he’ll slow down. “Why did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“The thing about your dad,” you mumble.

“The way my mom and Stanley talk about him, he might as well be don’t you think?”

“You don’t mean that,” you scold. “What happened? Are you really this mad about Elise?”

“No. Damn it. I don’t even like Elise.”

“Oh,” despite the circumstance, you can’t help but feel giddy. “Then what is it?”

“You seemed to be having a pretty good time yourself with Joe on that couch.”

“Joe?” You cross your arms. “You mean Joseph?”

“Oh great. You have a nickname for him.”

“Angus, Joseph is his legal name, that's the opposite of a nickname.”

“I don’t want to talk about Joe,” he says. You both reach the end of the block where Hunhams car is parked. In the distance you see them come closer, their feet crushing the white snow.

“You brought him up,” you massage your temple. You think back of the endless list of books you have read, or the many movies you’ve watched. You scour through the genres. You think of how Joseph managed to connect to life. You think of the rewatch of Cactus Flower with Mary. How envious Ingrid Bergman character was every time she saw Julian talk to Toni.

“Angus, were you jealous of Joseph?”

He stops his ongoing struggle with the car handle, finally prying it open.

“Were you jealous of Elise?” he asks you.

You frown and fixate on the pavement; your nails dig into your palm as your hands turn into fists. Deafening silence engulfs you before Angus exhales heavily. Before you can speak, Mr. Hunham arrives and motions for you to scooch over so he can open the passenger side for Mary.

“Sorry,” you apologize and get in the backseat.

“Straight to bed you hear me,” Mr. Hunham warns once you are all buckled in. “Enough theatrics for one day.”

“Mmhmm,” Angus responds, but all he is doing is looking at you.

[sirfrogsworth]

Adventures in Cooling

The 5-star rated HVAC repair service I used kind of depressed me.

It was almost... too good?

Like, they offer 24/7 service. They have a text message system that lets you know when the tech is coming. Every tech has their own custom van that serves as a giant advertisement. The entire process is documented with a tablet computer. Every serial number and model number must be photographed. He has to follow a diagnostic checklist. And an upsell checklist. And a repair checklist. He had so many checklists that at one point he pulled a card out of his wallet to make sure he didn't forget one of the steps. He had a poorly memorized speech for every upsell. You could tell he didn't have "his" tools, but the company's tools that he borrowed.

None of this was "bad" as far as a workflow. The service was flawless and nothing was forgotten. But you could tell that every detail was micromanaged and if the tech didn't follow the procedures to the letter, he would probably get some kind of demerit.

I felt sorry for my tech. He was in his 60s and clearly had a severe chronic knee injury. He walked slower than I do. He was quite monosyllabic and difficult to make conversation with. Not unpleasant, just not great at communicating.

At one point I asked him if I was a good candidate for a heat pump and he was like, "Everyone is."

End of advice.

Oh, and the uniform.

The uniform was very silly.

Every square inch of his shirt was meant to assure people they have a qualified technician. The one sleeve listed his certifications from some Alphabet Association that certifies such things. And then the other sleeve made sure to let me know my technician was drug tested and background checked.

The entire visit I kept trying to imagine how being stoned might negatively affect HVAC repair. I mean, if he was on a little cocaine perhaps we could have wrapped things up 30 minutes sooner. Marijuana might have helped him communicate. Opioids could make his knee feel better. I don't think shrooms would have been a good idea. If he hallucinated an angry fan monster in my A/C unit that could have been really awkward.

He was a terrible salesman—but for some reason, I fell for every upsell. Actually, I sold all of the upsells to myself in my head. I got a new filter and had him install it because I worried I would forget or I would install it improperly (not really possible, you just stick it in). But for the price I paid I could have bought 6 years worth of filters.

I just wanted everything sorted. I am so stressed and do not have the bandwidth to deal with A/C troubles. So I just said "yes" to everything. But the price kept inflating as we went along and every time it inflated he required a signature on his tablet.

This repair business had been corporatized to death and it made me miss all of my dad's friends from the old days who he would ask for favors. He always "knew a guy." He would trade car repairs for discounts on things we needed around the house. And they all worked for themselves and had their own tools and their own shitty truck and they all said, "There's your problem!" with the same masculine affect.

Their uniform was a flannel shirt and jeans and I bet some of them were high as fuck.

And this elderly gentlemen with the bum knee kept checking his checklist to make sure he checked every check because he feared managerial discipline.

He got to the sales pitch for the fluorescent dye. He was like, "Do you want this? You don't have to buy it." And I started selling it to myself in my head despite his assurance it wasn't really necessary. I worried if I had a big leak and I don't discover it until the middle of July, I would regret saying no in this moment. But then I realized he hated the dye injection process. And his poor salesmanship was mostly him not wanting his hands to be fucking radioactive yellow for the rest of the day. He tried wearing gloves to avoid it, but he still ended up with yellow hands and grumbled, "I really hate this stuff." Which was one of the few unrehearsed things he said to me the entire time.

Once the checklist was complete and the house was already starting to cool, he had one final sales pitch for me. He asked that I give his company a 5-star review and to make sure I mention his name. He told me that in July all of the techs with the most 5-star reviews will have their names put in a hat. And "the boss" will give one lucky employee a free vacation.

This vacation thing sounded like such a manipulation. And I'm sure "the boss" has instructed his techs to tell this tale of the free vacation so customers will be like, "Well, shit. I don't want this poor old guy with the shitty knee to miss out on that."

And it was then I realized just how this company got so many 5-star reviews.

Diabolical.

But the good news... my house is cold as heck.

And I keep shivering because I can't figure out the perfect setting on my thermostat. I guess I was used to the inefficiency and I will have to recalibrate.

[sandy-the-glader]

My Masterlist (Alphabetical)

Navigation

Check here for who I write for ⬆️

Adrian chase 

Lazy Day - A lazy day full of kisses

Baby It’s Cold Outside - After a long day Adrian is so cold but so hot at the same time

The Protector- You get insulted as a waitress at Fenel Fields and Adrian has your back 100%

Is That Me?- All month you have been ranting to your best friend about your celebrity crush and Adrian gets a little jealous. Little does he know that the face is quite familiar.

Guide Me- You have had your first's with Adrian and now you are ready for your first time with Adrian. He guides you through it all.

Afraid of Me- Adrian finds you while on a mission and accidentally kidnaps you? He tries his hardest to apologize and gain your trust

Secrets- Adrian is going through a box of your guy's old stuff and comes across your old assassin suit. He asks about you and your past with crime and he just has one question. Why?

Corey Cunningham

Be Quiet! - You and Corey get heated during a game of hide and seek.

George Karim

Come On I See That Smile! -  Ever since you got to Portland row all it has been is neutral faces, anger and frowns. But George seems to be curious about what your smile looks like… for research purposes of course!

New Assistant - Georges acts cold towards you because he’s jealous but also maybe has a crush on you

Little Place In The Back Of Your Mind -  You’ve always been clumsy and slow. You feel so bad for keeping the group behind and you feel especially bad for how George always saves your ass. One early morning it finally gets to you and George reassures you that it’s okay.

I Like Your Lips Better When They're Not Talking- You and George have been at a constant war of who's the better researcher. One ups, sabotaging, etc... After a disastrous trip George lets something go even you couldn't read

Happy Halloween Stranger- George comes across a beautiful Fittes agent he's never seen before. She's there to cure his boredom at the Fittes Halloween party and he wants to know more about her by the minute. Did I mention this is a masquerade and he has absolutely no idea who she is or how to find her?

Vince Dunn

Coming soon!

[thegirlwholivesin-delusion]

2023 ...

So you are leaving huh

First of all, thank you!

Thank you for happening.

2023 was my year of healing. I also met a lot of new people and reconnected with the old ones. I learnt new things and had fun experiences. Hell, I even joined tumblr in 2023! All I'm saying is I like everyone had highs and lows.

But compared to 2022 , the highs were more.

I wish that in terms of the world you could have been better but it's ok we have 2024 for that.

Time , I'm fucking impressed by your ability to not stop. I aspire to be like you, not all the time ofc but most of the time. (Lol what am I writing)

Now on to you 2024.

I don't expect much from you. I've learned not to. All I hope is that you can be a better year for everyone and for the world. Let it be a year of prosperity and happiness. I know the whole year can't be like that but even if a small part of you is like that, it'll be enough ♡

Everyone who is reading this , I wish you a very very very happy new year and I hope from the bottom of my heart that this year if your year of healing , or prosperity and happiness. I hope that this year you are , Happy 💕

To all my lovely mutuals : @acewithobsessions @holychaoticdevil28 @notbrucewayne48 @scrambledd3ggss @waiting-down-the-hall-for-me @guess-ill-dye @snazzy-fangs @alphabetically-deranged @bejeweled-bitch @coreyscoffin @coffeelovinggayidiot @jasperthenotfriendlyghost @weeping-in-the-willows @stars-of-the-heart @marcusmurdyspond @octoberconstellation

@/sheisovarit @/jessicavovu

Thank you so much for being my mutuals!

I love you guys

Wishing you a very happy new year ♡

[mandobatemans]

SFW Alphabet (Agent Whiskey x afab!reader)

warnings: pregnancy mentions, ex-wife & child death mentions, reader is assumed to be a Statesman agent but it's not really important, sex mentions 

word count: 3,151

also posted to ao3

A/N: This can be read as a gender neutral reader, except for a mention of pregnancy in letter "L", which is why it's tagged as afab. If there's anything implying a female-presenting reader that I missed, please don't hesitate to message me and I'll fix it! Also I didn’t do the letter “B” because I got lazy but the rest of the alphabet is there.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jack loves touch. He always wants to be touching you, a hand on the small of your back or drawing little shapes with his fingers on your leg as you sit together. He’s into PDA—maybe too much. At work, he’ll sometimes rest his hand on your thigh during a meeting…you try to give him a warning look, but that grin on his face has too much influence on you, so you let it slide. When he wants to make out with you every time he sees you in the hallway…well, that’s when you have to put your foot down. Even if you two are sitting together at home working, he wants to be touching you in some way. He’ll cross one of his legs over yours on the couch or you’ll put your feet on his lap. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s opposed to you calling it “cuddling” but, yes, he loves to cuddle. After a rough mission or a long day of paperwork, there’s nothing he wants more than to curl up with you next to the fire or in bed. Jack will very often fall asleep while cuddling, but you can’t blame him. You’re just as comfortable wrapped around him as he is with you. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Oh my god, yes. Despite the womanizer exterior, Jack is a huge softie inside. All he really wants is to grow old with you at his ranch surrounding by kids and grandkids and great-grandkids and–

The first time he cooks for you, it’s in his New York apartment. You’re prepared with the number for the pizza place down the street in anticipation of his burning the kitchen down, but to your surprise, it's one of the best meals you've ever had. True to form, however, he’s a meat and potatoes kind of guy. The first meal he ever cooks for you is a steak dinner with mashed potatoes, green beans, and homemade gravy. You almost point out how stereotypical it is that your first home-cooked meal from a cowboy is steak and potatoes, but you keep it to yourself because the dinner is so good. He makes variations on it for your anniversaries, incorporating recipes from your side of the family over time. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Whiskey doesn’t break up. He’s snuck out on some one night stands before, but once he’s in it for real, you better believe it’s ‘til death do us part. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Once he falls in love with you, Jack is unconditionally committed to you. He has a funny way of showing it sometimes, but when you get more serious, he’s certain he wants to marry you. It will take him some time to be ready to get married again, but he knows it’s in your future. He’s tested the waters with off-handed comments about marriage, and you've made some indications that you'd like to marry him eventually. Neither of you are in any particular rush, as you’re happy with your relationship and both know you’ll get married at some point. As they say, things move slower in the South. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Emotionally, he’s much gentler than you ever would have expected. He’s sweet and sensitive, nothing like what you expected from his strong, rough exterior. He’s maybe the most understanding man you’ve ever spoken to. Physically, he only won’t be gentle with you during sex, and that’s only if that’s something you’re into and express wanting. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

While Jack loves a good hug, it would usually be you initiating them. He’ll wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder while you’re brushing your teeth in the morning, but you've been known to give him a full-on hug out of nowhere. You just can’t help it, being enveloped in his arms overwhelms you with his scent, his warmth, and the steady sound of his heart beating, that you have to hug him at least once a day. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes him a while to say the words “I love you” explicitly. He tells you he loves you in every way except verbally. From teaching you how to ride a horse to telling you things he’s never shared with anyone else, he hopes you know he loves you. Jack knows it doesn’t make sense, but he equates love with loss. He loved his wife and unborn child—he lost them. The nagging voice in the back of his head tells him that if he doesn't say the words aloud, he won't lose you. When he finally does say it, it’s after a mission, one he barely survives. Something went wrong with the tech and his cover was blown, forcing him face-to-face with death. Whiskey had encountered his fair share of near-death experiences, but this one was different, a brush with death so close that he could feel it. The second he’s back at Statesman HQ, you’re there waiting for him. Neither of you are sure who threw themselves into the other’s arms, but you're a mess of limbs and tears. Cradling you as close to his chest as he possibly can, he repeats his first, second, third, and so on “I love you”s into your hair, on your lips, determined to make up for lost time. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Whiskey rarely gets jealous—he’s much too cocky. He’s amused when you’re jealous, though he would never purposely upset you. Whether on your own time or on Statesman business, people will approach him to flirt. Who wouldn’t flag down the cowboy at the bar? Before he can get a word in to politely turn them down, you’re at his side, greeting him with a kiss or firmly attaching yourself to his bicep. He can’t help the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips when you get defensive over him. Part of why he loves you is how well you can handle yourself, and he’s more than happy to let you show him off.   

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

JACK LOVES TO KISS YOU! He’s always finding an excuse to sneak a kiss: at work, passing you in the hallway, before bed, before work, while you're brushing your teeth, etc. There is no time or place where this man will not be trying to lay one on you. They can be gentle and loving or passionate and demanding, depending on the mood he’s in. Long before he says “I love you,” his love is contained in his kisses. 

There’s a little patch of his neck, right under his jaw, that makes him putty in your hands if you kiss. If you asked him directly where he likes to be kissed, he’d answer, “Oh, you know where, darlin’” and waggle his eyebrows, but in actuality it’s neither of those places. He wouldn't admit this, but he loves when you kiss him on the cheek. It’s something you do without thinking, like when you’re in a rush and have to head out the door or after he's answered a question of yours. It’s so natural to you that he can't help but feel loved when he thinks about it. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Some of the other agents have children, so occasionally there will be a kid or two running around Statesman HQ. Days when there are kids around are the longest you've ever heard Jack not curse. He was raised a good Southern boy, and you mind your mouth around little ones. As for your own children, Jack lost a child that he never even got to meet, so it will be a delicate subject. Personally, he didn’t really expect to have kids at his age or in his line of work, but if you unexpectedly became pregnant, he wouldn’t react badly. He’d be a little shocked, but slowly warm up to the idea of becoming a father again. Alternatively, if you express during your relationship that you want children at some point, he’ll have a bit more time to get accustomed to the idea. When you're pregnant, he’ll quit drinking with you, go to the doctor’s appointments, baby proof the ranch, everything. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Some days he’ll have to be in the office earlier than you are and vice versa. Whoever’s up first will usually make coffee or tea for the other to enjoy once they wake up. When it’s him, he tries really hard not to wake you up, but you sometimes stir from the kiss he has to press to your forehead before he leaves. When on the ranch, where the both of you can usually sleep in, he’s still up before you. On these days, he’ll make you breakfast, sometimes bringing it to you in bed, sometimes leaving you to sleep a little longer. Your favorite mornings are the ones where he stays with you, your bodies a lazy mess of limbs. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It depends how tired you both are. If you’ve still got energy, you’ll usually have sex. If it’s been a long day, one or both of you is reading and/or knocked out on their pillow. However, seeing Jack in his reading glasses will sometimes wake you right up. He won't go to bed without giving you a kiss and telling you he loves you. Some days, those will be the last words out of his mouth immediately before knocking out. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Jack has some fairly open wounds from his past, and he’s not going to just come right out and tell you about his fear of falling in love just to lose them again. Early in your relationship, he purposely avoids opening up emotionally and eventually, you stop asking. Once he’s more comfortable with you, he finds himself wanting to be vulnerable. He wants to have the kind of relationship with you where there’s open, healthy communication and no secrets. It will take him a while to get there, and it won’t happen all at once, but it will happen.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s pretty patient. When he’s stressed out or tired, his fuse gets a little shorter.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He can be forgetful, but he remembers the important things. Everything you express any interest in at all, he remembers, even when you don’t. You’ll find him fixing the sink because you had mentioned the drip was bothering you. Or you lingered a little bit looking at a necklace in the shop window and next thing you know, it’s wrapped up in a little box on your desk.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

There was a time where you both got injured on two separate missions, and Ginger had you both in the lab under observation in beds right beside each other. You had been on one or two missions together before, but always with another agent. Of course you knew each other from meetings and passing each other in the hallways, but had never really talked. Ginger had put you on lockdown in the lab, though, and there was nothing else to do but talk. This was long before you started dating, but looking back on it, it’s probably what Jack would cite as the beginning of your relationship. You had looked over at him and snickered, laughing about how he looked with healing gel around his forehead. After asking you what you were laughing at, he commented that you had the same gel on your chest. 

“Staring at my chest, cowboy?” 

“Hard not to, sugar, there’s a big fuckin’ bubble of shit on it.” 

You paused for a second before cracking up. Ginger wasn’t all too pleased when she returned later that day to find you had spent the time that was meant to be used recovering to talk and crack jokes (and flirt, in Whiskey’s case). 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Jack knows you can take care of yourself (he’ll never forget the time you roundhouse kicked him in training and he walked funny for a week) but he’s a cowboy, so a part of him is always going to want to protect you. Whether in public or on missions, he can’t help but keep an eye on you in case for some reason he needs to jump to your rescue. 

He has an emotional wall up when you first meet from the grief of losing his first wife. It’s an attempt to protect himself from ever feeling that pain again. The longer he knows you and the more time you spend together, the more he feels comfortable lowering that wall and baring his heart to you. He comes to find that, yes, love puts you at risk of being hurt, but it’s worth it to get to be with you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It’s rare that the two of you get to do a date night, so he puts all that energy into anniversaries and gifts. Your first anniversary, he plans the most elaborate, all-expenses-paid trip for the two of you. It’s the most expensive and luxurious trip you’ve ever been on. You have the time of your life, but if this was the plan for the first anniversary, you worry if your bank account can handle what he would have planned for the second, third, fourth… After expressing this worry, he tones it down. Every 5th anniversary or so he’d plan something extravagant, but the ones in between are no less special. Dinner and drinks at home show you how much you mean to him just as much as a cruise would. 

Sometimes gifts just appear on your pillow or on your vanity or on your desk at work. They’re not that often, usually so spread apart that there’s no discernable pattern to them. The truth is, there is no special occasion. If Jack sees something he knows you’ll love, or remembers something you mentioned offhand and there’s no birthday/anniversary/holiday coming up, he’ll get it for you and leave it somewhere for you to find. He doesn’t feel like he has to make a big deal of giving it directly to you because he doesn’t need the kudos for it. He just wants you to have it. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Jack can be cocky. Nine times out of ten it’s charming, but sometimes he’s so stubborn and so arrogant that it’s too much. To his credit, he is working on it.

He can also be forgetful, dragging his shoes in without wiping the mud off his boots, or forgetting something from the grocery store if you don’t write it down for him. He’s got a great memory when it comes to mission briefings or differentiating a Scotch from a Bourbon, but not for mundane, day-to-day things. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s no more concerned with his looks than anyone else is, except for when it comes to his mustache. He could spend hours in the mirror trimming and grooming it to ensure it's totally even and just how he wants it. Half his bathroom cabinet is grooming products: comb, scissors, balms, oils, wax. For his birthday one year you got him a mustache care subscription box, and you swear he almost cried. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He doesn’t subscribe to the idea that a partner makes you whole. Your partner should make you feel like the best version of yourself, and that's how he feels about you. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Jack is over the moon when you agree to let him teach you how to ride a horse. He has a few stables on his Kentucky ranch, and he’s had the perfect horse in mind to teach you on ever since you first told him you'd never ridden. She’s a Clydesdale named Peaches and a good beginner horse for you because of how obedient and affectionate she is. At least that’s what he tells you as he picks out a saddle for you. However fast or slow of a learner you are, he’s very patient with you. In the beginning he gets too overzealous and explains way too many things at once, but after you ask him to slow down he’s much more aware of your pace. When you finally get the hang of it, he’s so excited to take you to some of his favorite parts of the ranch that are only accessible by horseback. The first time he sees you out riding on your own, he’s overjoyed that you seem to like it as much as he does. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Whiskey doesn’t want someone who’s mean. He can take a joke, but if you’re downright mean? He’s too old for that shit. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He can fall asleep anywhere. He’ll pass out on the Statesman plane ten minutes into the flight. The second his head hits the pillow on your shared bed, he’s out like a light. After sex, when he’s sure you’re clean, comfortable, and settled, he falls asleep immediately. You've caught him snoozing at his desk a few times, too. Sometimes you tease him about it, saying, “Okay, old man…” when he insists he can stay awake to watch another episode of whatever the two of you are watching. When he ends up knocked out, you pause the TV and quietly tuck him in. You’ll either fall asleep with him on the couch and stay there all night, or he’ll wake up a few hours later and carry you to your bed before climbing in with you.

tagging: @absurdthirst @laters-gators​ @eupheme​ @psychedelic-ink​

[cinewhore]

Starfish

pairing: Doug Renetti x fem!reader word count: 4k warnings: fluff, angst, smut: vaginal penetration, cumshot a/n: in a minx mood! I just finished the second season and fell in love with the characters again. Folks have also been asking me about this so I guess this can live on here again. no beta and this is kind of old lolz. Enjoy & give credits to the gif creators!

Popping your grape flavored gum, your eyes fly across the screen of the game you were currently engrossed in, hips swaying back and forth to KC & The Sunshine Band “Get Down Tonight”.  You came to the Hot Spot bar often, checking the high score of space invaders. You were the top player of the famed game ever since Charlie installed it and he always made sure to tuck away tokens for you whenever you showed up. 

It wasn’t your thing, playing video games. With the increase of working days and a higher demand for adult content, you were always looking to blow off steam that wasn’t sex related. You drunkenly stumbled upon the flashy box and were hooked. 

“C’mon, you piece of shit, eat my dust!” you mutter, tongue poking out a bit as your concentration deepens. The colored aliens jump around, narrowly avoiding your blazing ray gun. You weren’t going down without a fight and with a quick flip of your wrist, the last three aliens on your screen were blasted to hell. The machine dings as NEW HIGH SCORE appears, prompting you to input your initials for the scoreboard. You continue to hum to the song, jerking the joystick around the alphabet to claim your rightful throne. 

F.U.K

“Whew momma, I’d know those hips anywhere.” 

You bite a smile as you finish your gaming session, tossing your purse back over your shoulder. Turning around, you come face to face with Doug Renetti. He holds up two shot glasses filled with brown liquor, shaking them a bit to entice you. 

“You’re late.” 

Doug laughs and it pings your heart. You hated how much you liked to hear his laughter. 

“What can I say, I’m a busy guy.” 

You permit the rugged looking man to escort you to a booth, sliding in across from him and accepting the drink. 

“Too busy for me even? Wow!” you joke, signaling to the bartender for another round. 

“Never too busy for my favorite girl.” Doug flashes you a smile, dazzling you with his pearly whites. You bite your lip and lean back against the plush seat. 

“You go to work today?” 

Doug nods, thanking the waitress for the new set of drinks. “Yeah. I, uh, actually got this new magazine in the works. It’s gonna be big, I can feel it.” 

“So I heard.” 

Doug raises an eyebrow, massaging his sharp nose. “Oh yeah? Tony keeping tabs on me now?” 

You let out a nervous chuckle, rolling your eyes. Tony was always a sore subject of conversation. Your current boss, Tony Delgatto owned one of the biggest adult production companies in L.A. Tony and Doug started in the industry together but lines were crossed and the two went their separate ways. Tony and Doug both refuse to discuss what exactly happened between them and you knew better than to ask. Something about men with their dicks and egos. 

“No, the porn industry is just very small. Word travels fast.” you shrug but Doug wasn’t buying it. 

“How much did Bambi tell you?” 

You giggle into your glass. “Everything.” 

Doug groans. “She never stops talking, that Bambi.” 

“We go to the same hair salon! What else are we supposed to talk about, the weather?” 

“Yeah, that’d be nice for a change.” 

You scoff. “Oh, geez, maybe next time I’ll lead off with a: Hi Bambi, how’s the weather today? Oh! It’s mid-70s? Again? Someone call the press!”

“Yeah, alright. I get it.” 

A moment of silence passes by and you know exactly where this is going. 

“The offer still stands-” 

“Doug! Can we not do this today?” 

Doug’s face softens, his normal joking demeanor changing into something serious. “You’re a goddamn sex symbol and instead of becoming a household name, you’re wasting potential by showing your ass on a calendar spread where February has thirty days in it!” 

“Hey! Gertrude apologized for that and got new ones printed.” 

Doug sighs. “What I’m saying is that I can take good care of ya and present you to the world in the right way. You need to be on magazine covers, video tapes, television, not that other shit.” 

You clear your throat, gazing down at your hands in your lap. Doug was right. He tends to be, having done this for such a long time. Even as a high school dropout, Doug always felt that he was smarter than any test could prove. His business started off a tad rocky but once both of his feet were planted firmly on the ground, it took off. You always teased that he was hiding all his secrets in his hair. 

“I know my worth,” you assert. “And I’ve been working with Tony for years, if I just up and left for his biggest competitor he’d blackball me before I even left the parking lot.” 

Doug downs his drink. “Yeah….maybe.” He takes in your sullen expression. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, let me make it up to you.” 

You give him a half smirk. “Oh yeah? And just how do you plan to do that, Douglas?” 

The walls to the single stall squeal as you get fucked against it, holding onto Doug for dear life. You were happy that you decided to wear a dress for the occasion, forgoing the bright colored tights due to the warm weather. Your underwear was currently dangling off of your right foot, legs thrown across Doug’s arms. 

“Now this,” Doug grunts, shifting his angle and hitting a deeper spot that made you cry out. “Is some grade-A pussy.” 

You laugh breathlessly. “Don’t you fucking forget it, sweetheart.” you grab a handful of his hair, tugging on it hard to spur him on further. 

The bass of the music playing seeps into the restroom, helping to conceal the moaning you were doing. Doug licks at your throat, analyzing your facial expressions. Even though you were a performer, he could tell from certain ticks that this wasn’t an act. Doug knew how to fuck you good and he was cocky about it. Some days he took it for granted but today he wanted to savor the moment, he wanted to make you unravel as many times as he possibly could. 

Creeping over to the sink, Doug sets you down and flips you over, spreading your legs with his foot. He doesn’t warn you as he enters you again, slowing down his pace in order to catch his breath. 

Your eyes meet in the mirror and you grin, eyes half open. He towers over you and tugs at the front of your dress, yanking it down enough to release your breasts. Doug kneads your tits, fingers pulling at your nipple. You whine, arching your back more. 

“I’m a pretty girl, say it.” 

Your eyes open all the way as you stare at Doug who doesn’t skip a beat. 

“Say it or I swear to God I’ll stop.” 

He thrust forward more harshly and you shuffle your feet around to accommodate him more. 

“I’m-oh-I’m a-” 

Doug smacks your ass. “Eyes on me when you say it.” 

You force yourself to glance at Doug. “I’m a pretty girl.” 

Doug nods. “Again.”

“I’m a pretty girl.”

He grabs your neck, pulling you up straight against his chest. “The prettiest fucking girl with the best pussy, ain’t that right.” 

You mumble and whimper affirmations, losing yourself to an orgasm. “I’m comin’, Doug, please.” 

“Uh huh, honey, I’m not done with you yet.” 

Doug slips out and prompts you to sit on the sink, positioning himself in between your legs. You groan as he enters you again, your immense amount of wetness making it an easy process. 

You surge forward kiss Doug, licking into his mouth. Your tongues fight for domination, Doug devouring all of your soft moans. 

“You want my cum?” 

Your head bobbles as you say yes. 

“How much you want it?”

“Bad. I want you to cum so badly, Doug.” 

Doug pumps his cock into you a few more times before he pulls out, snatching the condom off. He jerks his shaft, gasping as he spills his seed across your open legs. 

He drops his head on your shoulder, arms locking around your hips. You take a hand and lace it through his hair, humming lowly as your body simmers down from its tiny spasms. 

“Come work for me. Please.” he utters, pressing kisses to your bare shoulders. 

“You know I don’t talk business with your dick out.” 

Doug laughs softly, leaving one last kiss on your cheek before he makes himself decent. You adjust your dress, thanking Doug when he hands you your panties. 

“Doug, you know I can’t work for you.” 

Doug stares off into the distance, nodding to himself. 

“Ok.” 

The whole Tony excuse was played out. You could give a rats ass what Tony thought, you were fucking scared of Doug. You were head over heels for your oldest friend in the city who you sometimes had sex with. Ok, so you had sex a lot but it wasn’t like he was asking you for more and you were happy not to enter that unknown territory. You didn’t want people to think that you were fucking him for special privleges. You didn’t want to admit your true feelings. You didn’t want to get hurt. Not by anyone but definitely not him. 

Doug goes to leave the restroom but stops himself, digging in his suit pocket. He produces a small velvet cloth bag, handing it to you. 

You grab it, looking at him confused. “What’s this?” 

He gestures for you to open it. You gasp openly, a hand flying to your mouth. Inside the bag was a silver starfish necklace. Simple and beautiful. 

Doug takes the necklace from you, fastening it around your neck. He admires the charm, touching it gently. “Saw it and couldn’t stop thinking about how much you would like it. Happy birthday.” 

Doug says nothing else as he leaves you alone in the bathroom, closing out his tab and exiting the bar. 

Tony hadn’t said anything to you all day. 

It was a tough business. Not the industry you’d thought you would be a part of when you first moved out west. You wanted to go to school for marine biology but your parents didn’t approve, saying that the money wasn’t there and you should do something more practical with your life. They agreed to let you go to L.A. but set a hard rule that they weren’t going to support you so you had to find a job while applying to schools. 

Balancing rent, tuition, books, and other bills proved to be too much so you took up a call girl job when an older woman you came across in a bar one night told you that you were wasting your pretty over the phone. 

“Film is where it’s hot, sweet cheeks.” she advised, handing you a business card for Tony. Doug offered to help but you turned him down, saying that phone sex was better because you didn’t want your image to be broadcasted everywhere. 

You weren’t exactly sure when your beliefs changed but talking sexy over the phone wasn’t putting food on your table. 

A Week Later.

You slip your sunglasses on top of your head, popping your gum noisily. You mosey up to the front desk of Bottom Dollar, smiling at the receptionist. The poor girl couldn’t get a word out before Bambi rushes past her, engulfing you in a tight hug. 

“I knew you would show up!” Bambi steps back, grabbing your hand and dragging you through the office. “Doug was adamant that you were not going to come but I just kept telling him that you’d end up here and here you are! My horoscope said that good things come to those who wait.” 

Bambi leads you into the photo area where Doug, Tina, and Richie were observing a new layout. They all turn when you enter with Bambi. Doug sits up straighter when he sees you, eyes zooming in on your neck. 

The necklace was still there. 

“Well would you look at what the cat brought in!” Bambi shrieks. 

You wave, surveying the scene. 

“You came.” Doug says, walking over to greet you with a hug. You hug him back, inhaling his familiar scent. 

“I heard you were struggling to stay afloat so I figured I’d offer a helping hand.” 

Doug chuckles and pulls you over to the table. “Oh really? Wonder where you heard that.” he side eyes Bambi. 

Gazing at the boards on the table, you whip your head up to look at Doug. “Is this for me?” 

Bambi holds up the layout for you to see it clearer. “I came up with the idea!” 

“Well, that’s half true.” Doug points to the board. “With the new magazine we got coming, it’s all about the female gaze. Intellect. What a better way to gain knowledge than having your own fun fact spread! We would feature you in every other issue and we’d use the space to feature fun trivia and facts about the ocean. We could even give some proceeds to a sealife charity of your choice.” 

Tears well up on your eyes as you gaze at Doug’s work. Setting down your purse, you shed off your jacket. 

“Where do I stand?” 

[babycatlix]

hello friends! 💖 and happy new year! i hope 2023 is kind to us all! 

let’s just get into it! at the tail-end of 2021, i wasn’t really sure i was going to stay on tumblr. a lot of the friends i had made on my main and on another side blog had moved on from tumblr/we didn’t talk anymore. the few IRL friends i do have, i don’t follow on here bc i got rid of my old account (c. 2011) so i wasn’t really sure i was going to even be on tumblr during 2022. 

but then... march, 2022, my friend wanted to show me a music video. i wasn’t super jazzed but said “okay.” and he said, “have you heard of stray kids?” and me being into kpop for the better part of 16-ish years i said, “yes, i’ve heard of stray kids. i don’t stan, but i have heard of them.” fast forward a few weeks, he’s made me watch the maniac mv like 10 times and he thinks now is a good time to tell me, “by the way, stray kids is a self-producing group.” in case you didn’t know, i love groups that self-produce. see the other groups i love, bigbang, bts, seventeen, winner and ikon. so as soon as he said that, i was done for. i fell even deeper into kpop and fell into stray kids. 

in april, 2022 i decided that i should make a side blog for stray kids. i didn’t think it would grow into what it has. i just thought it would be like my itzy and blackpink side blogs, where i occasionally post some fan photos and other ppls creations. instead... i thought a good way for me to catch up on 4 years of content was to start giffing and here we are. i say this every time i do a follow forever, but i'm so happy here in my corner of stayblr. everyone is so kind and wonderful! and i want to thank everyone that shows my gifsets love! i'll tag some ppl below, but i want to mention a few special ppl to me first:

@yonglixx and @quokki my lovely sun ☀️ and ale! 💚 we may not talk a whole lot these days, life is busy and school is way too much, but you two were some of the first ppl on stayblr that i really talked to 💖 you guys were my first mutuals 😭🥰

@jinniebit ahhhh anna! we also don't talk a whole lot, but you are special to me! i followed you from your svt main and when i realized that you were here on stayblr, i plucked up my courage (i'm a huge chicken when it comes to interacting first! 🙈) and filled out your mutual form 💖 and i'm so glad i did!

@changbeens wonderful, amazing, talented bee! you mentioned me in your birthday follow forever and i was like, "how have i NOT seen them in my notifs?!" turns out, i was just blind, you were there all along. i love the way you express yourself and you never hesitate to stand up for your friends.

@sunnishine my sunshine 🥰 i'm so glad you were brave one day (i know it took a lot of courage and i'm proud of you 😭) and reblogged one of my gifsets, bc you gave me my own tag and an emoji to go with it 🥺 it was so cute and tbh... i was so nervous to tell you that i wanted a different emoji 😂 but i did and the rest is history.

okay, with the sappy emotional stuff out of the way, here are other ppl that i love a whole lot. if you're not following them, consider doing so! they're all so talented and wonderful! no special order, just alphabetical!

@agibbangs / @atinystraykid / @chanrizard / @chanstopher / @cheekyquokka / @freckledbbokkiee / @geniaparadox / @ggthydrangea / @hanjesungs / @hanjisoonie / @hyunchanz / @jerirose / @jisungs / @juiceofmoons / @jisungsjaistandjeekies / @khairemisthios / @lee--felix / @leefelex / @leenow / @minzbins / @missyedits / @nevoono / @seo-changbinnies / @skz-films / @snug-gyu / @straykidsgallery / @winterfloral

i love you all, you've made being here on stayblr so nice and wonderful! i would've done this sooner, but i worked both new years eve and new years day. but better late than never! i hope 2023 is kind to us all! 💖

[kynmites-blog]

Looks like my first true post is going to be a frustration rant.

So I work in a very male industry, and I'm male passing despite my bookishness.

Ugh, there is a lot of baggage here, so let me start from basics.

As a white guy, racists see you as part of the ingroup. You must also be racist because all these minorities are suppressing the white folk, and as such, all white folk are too scared to reveal their racist attitudes.

What this means is that racists only openly reveal themselves, as opposed to badly hiding their bigotry, when the object of their frustration leaves the room.

Example. I was working in the fuselage, and there was a black man and a couple of white guys. The second the black man was out of earshot, the racist man in the group did the look.

Anyone who passes as part of the ingroup will know what I am talking about. Suddenly, there is a change in the atmosphere as the bigot thinks they are free of view by the outgroup.

Suddenly, it's testing jokes (insults) at the expense of the outgroup. Then, especially if no one laughs, straight up hateful bigotry. It will go on as long as the outgroup isn't present and the "traitors to the ingroup" don't reveal themselves.

Unfortunately, despite my very liberal state, blue collar work is filled with the uneducated and thus ignorant. There are plenty of people who might consider themselves allies in that they disagree with the bigots on a fundamental level, but they don't act because they'd never stop. At no point would they reach the end of reporting people.

You feel surrounded, drowned by it. A match against a hurricane only moments away from violence if you let your guard down.

You are in effect in the same position as the bigot. They fear the repercussions of their bigotry from "the new order" while you fear it from the old.

They find it "easy" to identify the ingroup because they assume everyone "like them" is the ingroup. Whereas potential allies are constantly giving the same looks at eachother as the bigots, trying to sus out who is in and who is out.

It's only when an overt confrontation happens that the allies appear, and mostly in secret afterwards.

I started openly shouting Bible verses back at Christian, who would not stop harassing me, that contradicted his world view. Things that would make it very clear to those who are, at the very least not cult like to a lie they've been sold about their religion, where I stood on his behavior. One person representing the allies approached me afterwards and said "we agree with you if it makes you feel better."

I don't know if it's a guy thing or a generational trauma thing, but the general attitude is "that's just Dave, he won't change so why bother."

All this to bring me to the point I wanted to talk about at the start.

I'm part of the outgroup. I'm "part of the alphabet club," aroace. As such I sympathize with the LGBT community and view slights on them as slights on me, because they are.

I've delt with the bigots before, and typically it's at a distance so I can just turn up my music. Lately though it's been right in my face, from literally every direction. My immediate coworkers, the folks in the areas next to me, the folks on my way to other places, people in the cafeteria at the same time as me, MY DIRECT SUPERVISOR.

These ass hats I work with directly have the gual to complain about other people fighting against bigotry and hate when I had to talk to the manager on their behalf because they felt belittled by being told "alright, back to work" after our first break meetings.

I want to dissolve into the furniture. To just escape the needless hatred of ignorant people who refuse to learn.

One of them told me he just "couldn't read books" as they were too taxing.

He is one of the most competent men I have ever worked with in 15 years in this industry. Yet, despite his own disability (tourette syndrome), and despite being made fun of for it behind his back, he is one of the most hateful people I have met.

You are the diversity hire dipshit.

Let me evaporate and dream no more. Let me escape the burden of other people's thoughts.

[ridiasfangirlings]

It's been a while but another Fushimi-Sukuna-Yata gaming friends ask: Fushimi had been working too hard recently and Munakata wants him to at least take a break. He thought of inviting Yata since he knew the two were close. While talking about it, Yata mentions they usually play online games for fun with Sukuna. He decided to invite Sukuna as well. Munakata wants to join too since he wants to know how fun this online game is.

Imagine Sukuna, Yata and Fushimi all playing their online game along with a fourth member invited by Fushimi and Yata and Sukuna having a wtf moment when Munakata speaks into the microphone (also imagine Munakata’s trash talk is just him being passive aggressively polite to everyone). Say there’s been a lot going on at S4 lately and Munakata feels that Fushimi is possibly overdoing things again, urging him to take a break. Fushimi complains and Munakata tries to find out if there’s something Fushimi likes to do to relax, Fushimi mutters that he plays games so it’s not that important. Munakata recalls hearing Fushimi mention an online game to some of the alphabet boys in the past and he assumes that since Fushimi and Yata are close Yata must be who Fushimi plays with. Munakata decides to talk with Yata so that they can use the game as a way of getting Fushimi to take a break, which is when Yata accidentally lets slip that they’re playing with Sukuna too.

Yata and Sukuna set up a game night with Fushimi where they all log on and can do a raid or something, Yata figures this will be a way to get Fushimi’s mind off work. As Fushimi’s setting things up alone in his room he hears a knock on the door, he opens it and Munakata is there smiling. Fushimi suspiciously says didn’t Munakata want him to take a break and Munakata says indeed, and in fact he was hoping to take a break with Fushimi. Fushimi raises an eyebrow and Munakata pulls out a controller and headset, he talked to Enomoto in order to find out what would be the most appropriate ‘gear’ (as the kids say) for a game night. Fushimi is skeptical that Munakata wants to play a video game, like do you even know what video games are Captain. Munakata assures Fushimi that despite appearances Munakata is in fact well versed with games, he plays the puzzle game with the little crushed candies on his phone all the time. Fushimi clicks his tongue but it’s not like he can really argue, figuring maybe if Munakata is no good at this he’ll get bored and leave.

They start the game and imagine Fushimi tells Munakata not to say anything, so he doesn’t make things awkward with Yata and Sukuna. Yata and Sukuna assume this fourth person is just a random player or one of the S4 alphabet and Fushimi doesn’t bother to correct them. Initially imagine Munakata is a little awkward with the controls and Fushimi is just grinning because it’s not often he gets to see Munakata struggle to grasp something, but once they’re about an hour in Munakata has figured out the gist of it and he’s suddenly amazing. Yata and Sukuna are grudgingly impressed with this new guy, which is when Munakata decides to speak into the microphone and thank them for their praise. Yata’s immediately like tell me that isn’t the Blue King and Sukuna’s like who’s the old guy it better not be the stupid Blue King. Munakata finds this not at all in the spirit of teamwork and is about to say so but Fushimi just immediately unplugs Munakata’s headset like you play quietly or not at all.

[askvariance]

💎 Blitz and Veto

💎 Does your OC collect anything? Is there a reason? When did they start and is it beginning to turn into a little bit of a hoarding issue? What do they do with their collection?

VETO: Huh. Do you collect anything?

BLITZ: Very gracious of you to let me go first.

VETO: I'm cool like that.

BLITZ: I've never had the knack for collecting. I've idly noticed that I have more than one of something I find pleasant, but even if I decide to start a collection, it never really prompts me to go out and get more.

VETO: Just tell Nickle that you're starting one. They'll start picking them up and giving them to you.

BLITZ: Hah.

VETO: What would you collect? You know, if you were going to.

BLITZ: Hmm. I'm not sure.

VETO: I bet it'd be something fucked up.

BLITZ: Such as what, taxidermied small animals?

VETO: Nah, too obvious. More like you're an undercover vampire who thinks collecting things will help them pass as a regular guy, but picks something that is completely unhinged to actually have in your house. Like a wall display of completely normal umbrellas. Or obituaries from sixty years ago.

BLITZ: Perhaps I should look into collecting rude little gremlins who forgets to change their socks.

VETO: Good luck with that. I'm one of a kind.

BLITZ: Silverware, most likely. Coasters. Other assorted things I've stolen from fancy restaurants.

VETO: Oh my god?

BLITZ: Actually, I do already have some. Maybe that counts.

VETO: Where??

BLITZ: In with the rest of the dishes. Where else would it be?

VETO: Fucking incredible. Never change.

BLITZ: What about you?

VETO: Oh, yeah. I've got a decent amount of merch. Posters, action figures, that sort of thing. Been a while since I've bought any new ones, but I still have those around in my room.

BLITZ: ...And?

VETO: And what?

BLITZ: Surely you don't mean to imply this is the most significant collection you own?

VETO: Oh, you mean THIS?

[Veto pulls their soundboard case out from its compartment in their wheelchair. Blitz just smiles, pleasantly indulgent, as they pop it open.]

BLITZ: Illegally downloaded audio files and movies, hm?

VETO: Better than treasure. Check this out.

[Veto pops the case open, revealing an electric soundboard with a truly staggering number of tiny switches. Below it is a compartment with several trays, all full of plastic sleeves that look alphabetized. There are some dents and little paint stains on the soundboard. It looks old, but in good condition.]

BLITZ: They really should have known better than to ask you this one.

VETO: Oh, tell me about it. Buckle up, kids, hope you've got a few hours. Let's fucking go!

VETO: Where to start, where to start.

BLITZ: Why not begin with your noise machine?

VETO: Yeah, might as well.

[They set the soundboard on their lap, almost reverently.]

VETO: And it's a soundboard, not a noise machine. Get with it.

BLITZ: Agree to disagree.

[Veto hits one of the switches on the soundboard and a button on the side of the case.]

SOUNDBOARD: [ YOU'RE OUT OF TOUCH ]

[Blitz sighs. Veto winks.]

BLITZ: Very funny.

VETO: It's not Thursday, but you get the point.

VETO: I probably started this one when I was... I don't know, thirteen? Maybe fourteen. That's when I started clipping audio and making my own music in software programs.

BLITZ: You didn't collect any music albums before that?

VETO: Oh, good point. Then it's since I was eight.

[They look down at the soundboard fondly.]

VETO: I liked music, but I think I started because I liked references. People would watch a movie and then they'd just say one line from it, and everyone would laugh. Like you could cut this one thing out and it would mean something. I wanted to take everything apart like that.

BLITZ: So when you asked me if I dissected rodents as a child, was that projecting?

VETO: Not unless you count Alvin and the Chipmunks.

BLITZ: Mm. Yes, I would have been inspired to take a knife to that horrible little creature, too.

[Veto laughs. Blitz smiles, checking their nails.]

VETO: I stockpiled for ages to get my first switchboard. That one was huge. I had to carry it in my lap everywhere I went.

BLITZ: You must have gotten some funny looks.

VETO: Nah, I was a fucking legend. You think just anyone has a switchboard that they use to play funny audio clips in real time? Kids were coming up to me for months begging to try it.

VETO: Eventually the doctors told me that having something that heavy on me all the time was fucking up my legs, though.

BLITZ: That's a shame. So you had to stop?

VETO: What, are you kidding me? I was sixteen. I kept it up for another month before the fuckin' educational staff confiscated it. Then I had to stop.

BLITZ: Ah.

VETO: I have this one wired up to my personal library. Funny songs, sound effects, mood playlists, audio clips from movies and stuff... all the stuff I know I want with me.

BLITZ: I did always wonder how you did it so quickly. Especially without looking.

VETO: I have a system.

BLITZ: Is there a trick to it?

VETO: Yeah, of course. I can't flip the switches while I'm in my chair and the case is closed.

[They turn the case on its side, revealing a small keypad with around twenty buttons. Blitz watches, intrigued.]

VETO: Now this is a luxury I didn't have in school. There's another keypad on the other side, too. Back when I started, I had to reach over and flip all the switches myself.

VETO: Eventually I commissioned a gearhead to make me something that I could use while it was strapped to the back of my chair, but it was clunky as hell. The button sequences were a nightmare. Couldn't have it in a case, either. It's like having my whole ass exposed. This one's way better. Protects my modesty.

BLITZ: So instead of reaching down to flip one of many indistinguishable switches, you press several indistinguishable buttons?

VETO: This one's got braille to tell me which button is which. It's way easier.

BLITZ: How do you keep track of the combinations?

VETO: Memorized 'em.

BLITZ: You memorized your entire sound library?

VETO: What? No, I already know that. It's just chronological in the order I got it. I mean I memorized where the switches were and based the buttons on that.

BLITZ: You memorized hundreds of indistinguishable switches.

VETO: Back in school, yeah. I used paint.

VETO: The buttons are just section, column, row. I can play anything in two or three presses.

BLITZ: Without looking.

VETO: Well, yeah. It's under the chair.

BLITZ: ...

VETO: I said I had a system.

BLITZ: Your dedication to minutia is truly awe inspiring.

VETO: I get that a lot. Usually as an insult online.

[Veto moves the soundboard, opening the file library beneath it.]

VETO: Anyways, that's not even the actual collection. That's just the polish on this thing that you show to the crowd. You gotta see the process as much as the finished project if you really wanna appreciate art.

BLITZ: Ah, so we're seeing the workings of the thing now?

VETO: I've got a shitload of music, movies, and show episodes down here in the bottom compartment. I download or record stuff, burn 'em onto physical microfiles, and then stash everything in here.

[They hold up a small, flat black square in an old protective sleeve. It's labeled in simple, messy shorthand "DTBR VS MJ 2".]

VETO: It's not fancy, but it's solid. Literally and figuratively. I've got a bunch more cases upstairs.

BLITZ: It's a shame your interest only extends to cartoons. The children of the world are very lucky.

VETO: Oh, I've got a shitload of other stuff too. I'll take anything.

BLITZ: Really?

VETO: Sure. Just because I don't want to watch something doesn't mean that someone with worse taste won't. I've got a bunch more boxes upstairs.

BLITZ: So you download thousands of movies just in case you run into someone who wants to watch one?

VETO: What? No. I download thousands of movies because everyone wants to watch something, whether or not they're getting brownie points from the government.

BLITZ: Do people actually want these?

VETO: Sure. Turns out people who are on the run from the state still want to have an okay time.

BLITZ: ...Yes, I suppose they would.

VETO: I mean, I don't ask why they can't just rent stuff or use the database. It's not my business. But I can say that there's two kinds of people who's more intense than criminals, and the first is someone who watched a really specific movie once as a kid and has felt empty for the past five years. Those guys are the type who would do a lot to get a hard copy.

BLITZ: Mm. And the second?

VETO: Anime fans.

BLITZ: Of course.

VETO: Or collector guys who want a display case of every single movie from their favorite franchise. Take your pick.

BLITZ: Would you not fit into both of those categories?

VETO: Uh, no, because I go and find my own weirdo shit instead of buying it from other weirdos. I'm like the foundation of that whole ecosystem.

BLITZ: Ah, so you do sell them.

VETO: I mean, copies of them.

BLITZ: And here I thought you were doing this out of the sheer force of anarchist idealism.

VETO: So I like having a source of income. Microfiles are expensive and I can't legally work. Fucking sue me.

BLITZ: I'm sure someone out there would be thrilled to if you get caught.

VETO: I mean, I'm not fucking advertising. You've gotta be smart if you wanna do stuff like this. If you want in on this sort of thing, you have to know someone who's in the know.

BLITZ: Loose lips sink ships, hm?

VETO: Pirates fucking need those ships, man. That's the whole thing.

VETO: I don't charge for digital files, obviously. Pirate networks are a passion project that everyone benefits from. I either sell it in bulk once and let them spread it around as much as they like, or I upload 'em for free.

BLITZ: Including music?

VETO: Yeah, of course.

BLITZ: Even though you're also a musician?

VETO: I'd rather have people steal my shit than have us both get robbed by the fucking industry. If you wanna support artists, help them unionize.

BLITZ: Ah, of course.

VETO: Listen, stealing stuff is a direct transaction. It's clean and wholesome. Having to go through filters means you're dependent on external permission to continue owning what you bought.

VETO: People don't get that, I think. If your files are running on networked tech, your access to it can get revoked. You own what you own until they decide you don't.

BLITZ: And "they" is...

VETO: Plenty of options. Maybe a business call gets made behind closed doors and suddenly everyone has to hand over their personal data to keep your streaming service running. Maybe some asshole who knows more about hacking than you wants to hold your shit hostage to make a quick buck. Maybe your political opinions are getting too much traction and the state decides they want to make your life shit until you crumble. The fuck are you going to do about it if they do? I sure don't know enough about computers to stop them.

BLITZ: Mm. No one does, these days.

VETO: People don't think it'll happen. It can. Inconvenience is a weapon, man, and you're paying to not get hit with compliance. Dependence means you'll always have that hanging over your head. You're trusting a lot of shitty people not to take some pretty important stuff away.

[They toss the file up in the air and catch it.]

VETO: But if you've got the thing in your hand? You know you own the thing yourself. Doesn't matter if someone with power thinks you shouldn't have it for stepping out of line. Pop one of these in a player projector, and you're rolling. The fuck are they going to do about it?

BLITZ: It does flip the power dynamic in a way that seems very you.

VETO: Yeah, you get it. Is that the whole question? Did I miss anything?

BLITZ: Is it beginning to turn into a hoarding issue?

VETO: Uh, no. Every time I steal a movie my thighs get bigger and more sexy.

BLITZ: Denial is a painful thing to watch.

VETO: You literally steal coasters from fancy restaurants.

BLITZ: That isn't hoarding.

VETO: Kleptomania is basically just hoarding's cousin who makes it someone else's problem.

BLITZ: I'm not a kleptomaniac. I'm just curious to see if anyone will stop me.

VETO: So a regular maniac.

BLITZ: I'll accept that description when I start memorizing the silverware.

[newmusickarl]

Top 101 Songs of 2022

2022 has been an exceptional year for new music and as always, I thought I would share with you my favourite songs of the last 12 months. Unlike my albums list, this one is unranked as this isn’t necessarily what I think are the best songs of the year, but more the songs that have ultimately come to soundtrack my 2022. Also, I find it impossible to favour songs over one another half the time – these are simply different tunes for different moods.

In this year’s playlist are plenty of lesser-known gems from some of my favourite new discoveries, the year’s best album cuts, my favourite collaborations, guilty pleasures and, of course, some of 2022’s biggest singles and club bangers. As always for the sake of diversity, I’ve kept it to strictly one song per artist (excluding a couple who are also included on other tracks as features).

Now I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes – as the official Sound of the Summer for 2022 here in the UK, Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush is included, despite the fact it was originally released in 1985. Also, the playlist is 101 songs this year rather than the standard 100, as a certain Miss Simz came along very late in the day and needed to be included. So this year you get a bonus track!

Listen to the Playlist:

Listen on Spotify here

Listen on Apple Music here

Listen on Let’s Loop here

My Top 101 songs of 2022 in alphabetical order by artist:

1. Philadelphia by alt-J

2. Northern Star by The Amazons

3. Body Paint by Arctic Monkeys

4. One More Night by bexx

5. BREAK MY SOUL by Beyoncé

6. Bread Song by Black Country, New Road

7. If We Get Caught by Bloc Party

8. SUCKER by Blood Red Shoes

9. Visions by Blossoms

10. Wicked & Bad by Bob Vylan

11. Rosewood by Bonobo

12. MAN ON THE MOON by BROCKHAMPTON

13. Used To Know Me by Charli XCX

14. FLAG (Feel Like A Girl) by Coach Party

15. Holiday by Confidence Man

16. Aquamarine by Danger Mouse & Black Thought (featuring Michael Kiwanuka)

17. See You When The End’s Near by Day Wave (featuring KennyHoopla)

18. Set You Free by DC Gore

19. Kids by Deaf Havana

20. Rain by Deco

21. Far From Over by Deserta

22. I Don’t Need To Hide by DMA’s

23. Strawberry Lemonade by Editors

24. Additions Attachments by Elder Island

25. B.O.T.A (Baddest of them All) by Eliza Rose & Interplanetary Criminal

26. I Want A Love Like This by Everything Everything

27. Forget The Name by Express Office Portico

28. Forever In Sunset by Ezra Furman

29. Not Okay by Fickle Friends

30. 2am by Foals

31. Jackie Down The Line by Fontaines D.C.

32. the angel of 8th ave. by Gang of Youths

33. Cold by George FitzGerald

34. Biggest Mood Ever by HAAi & Alexis Taylor

35. As It Was by Harry Styles

36. Giving The World Away by Hatchie

37. Gone by The Haunted Youth

38. Polygod by Hayden Thorpe

39. Can You Afford To Lose Me? By Holly Humberstone

40. Not Alone by Hot Chip

41. If I Die Tomorrow by Jack White

42. The Old Style Raiders by Jamie T

43. The Drum by Josef Salvat

44. Mirrors by Just Mustard

45. More Pressure by Kae Tempest (featuring Kevin Abstract)

46. Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) by Kate Bush

47. Renegade by Kavinsky (featuring Cautious Clay)

48. Sailor by KAWALA

49. N95 by Kendrick Lamar

50. Bittersweet, TN by Kevin Morby (featuring Erin Rae)

51. Willing To Trust by Kid Cudi & Ty Dolla $ign

52. Neverland by Kyla La Grange

53. What Have You Done To Me? By Lane 8 (featuring Arctic Lake)

54. Happy New Year by Let’s Eat Grandma

55. Camera Chimera by LIES

56. X by Little Simz

57. Forever Is Too Long by Low Island

58. Hate by Loyle Carner

59. Set My Mind Free by Matt Guy

60. Doomscroller by Metric

61. Brooklyn. Friday. Love. By The Midnight

62. Goosebumps by MØ

63. The Foundations of Decay by My Chemical Romance

64. Still Call You Home by The Mysterines

65. Weird Goodbyes by The National (featuring Bon Iver)

66. Looking Back by The Native

67. Self Care by Nile Marr

68. anotherlife by Nilüfer Yanya

69. You Better Mean It by Nimmo

70. I Love You, Baby by Opus Kink

71. Call Me When You Leave by Oscar and the Wolf

72. Radio by Paolo Nutini

73. This Is Why by Paramore

74. words by piri & tommy

75. Happy Birthday In The Sky by Placebo

76. Lose Our Minds by Porij

77. The Rip by Porridge Radio

78. Reputation by Post Malone

79. Diet Coke by Pusha T

80. Black Summer by Red Hot Chili Peppers

81. The Void or Nothing by Sad Boys Club

82. Wild Grey Ocean by Sam Fender

83. Headspace by Sharon Van Etten

84. On the Run by The Sherlocks

85. We Don’t Know What Tomorrow Brings by The Smile

86. Funny Way Of Showing It by Spector

87. That Boy on the Stage by Suede

88. Little Blue by Swim Deep

89. Never Good Enough by Tom A. Smith

90. Remind Me by Tom Grennan

91. MAGIC by Vince Staples & Mustard

92. Champion by Warpaint

93. Operator Error by We Are Scientists

94. How Do I Make You Love Me? By The Weeknd

95. If You Ever Leave I’m Coming With You by The Wombats

96. Widow by Working Men’s Club

97. Leader of the Pack by Wunderhorse

98. Pour Another by Yard Act

99. Burning by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

100. Haunt by Yumi Zouma

101. Happiness by The 1975

Hope you enjoy and keep an eye out later today for the first of my Top 10 Albums of the Year!

[plush-rabbit]

SFW Alphabet - Shigaraki Tomura

A: Affection (How affectionate are they with a s/o?)

Tomura isn’t very affectionate. He’s cold and distant; with the only sign that he wants you near him is when knees and shoulders touch. However, once he receives affection from you, he relishes in it. He’s nuzzling into you, his lips ghosting over your exposed skin and he just wants to lay there with you for as long as he can. His affection will always be a silent plea for you to start it.

B: Breath (What could their s/o do to take their breath away?)

If you touch him of your own accord, he’s freezing in place with halted breath as you run your hands over him. There’s hesitation to touch you, always afraid that he’ll slip and put all five fingers on you, a mistake he’s not willing to take chances with. But when touch him, going into him with full acceptance and pressing your lips against his, he’s melting and forgetting how to breathe.

C: Cuddling (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

He’s scared to cuddle. He doesn’t want to risk accidently decaying you and will only cuddle if you both are awake- less of a chance for hands to accidentally meet. Once he has control over his quirk, there’s always a chance you’ll fall asleep with limbs entangled and hands meeting. He’s still apprehensive about it but he has confidence in himself and you have confidence in him. The most used position is when you both are facing each other where a head is buried in a chest and lips are pressed against a temple.

D: Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

Before he gained control of his quirk, his main wish was to touch you. He wanted to feel your hand in his and intertwine fingers and trace your features. He wanted to touch you without fear. After gaining control of his quirk, his only dream is to have you by his side as he achieves his goal.

E: Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

He isn’t used to being in a relationship so he doesn’t put that much effort into it. He usually gets annoyed if you express distaste in his lack of effort. However, if it proves to be a strain, he’s willing to try to put effort into it and will take advice from the internet or otome games. He doesn’t want you to leave him, he’s willing to try even if it isn’t his usual cup of tea.

F: Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

He flicks them in the forehead and will walk them away from whatever they’re scared of (spiders, bugs, etc.) If you’re scared by the storm, he lets you play co-op with him and will do anything else he can to try to distract you. If it’s a fear that dwells more on personal issues, he’s not that good at dealing with them but he’ll listen to you rant and just try to help you calm down. He’s oddly really good at helping you get distracted. He claims he can’t get shit done if you’re whimpering but long after you’ve calmed down, he’s still with you.

G: Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

In the beginning if the relationship, he hardly gives you any gifts. The only gifts that he’ll give you are when he accidentally breaks something of yours and it’s replaced the next day. As the League rises in the ranks, the gifts will become more, proper things that you’ve expressed wanting before. He doesn’t expect gifts back but he’s always delighted when he does; he watches over them and protects them with his life.

H: Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

He doesn’t hug you too often, only moving to stand closer to you, shoulders bumping and a pinky outstretched towards you. But as time goes on, he seeks for your affection and will nudge you, his silent ask for a hug. His hugs are stiff in the beginning, so still you swear he isn’t breathing but as the affection increases, so do his hugs. He’s wrapping his arms tight around you and burying his head into the curve of your neck and he’s relaxed.

I: Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

He isn’t very romantic. Romance with him is a step above friendship and while he will go up to you to a plant a kiss he won’t be there with flowers and a box of chocolates. Intimacy is a hard thing for him to grasp,

J: Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

He is easily jealous. You belong to him, you’re dating him and while he does have faith that you won’t cheat on him, he can’t stop the feeling from overtaking him. He’s a lot rougher when he’s jealous. He’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, hands that clutch the fabric of your shirt and if looks could kill, the person flirting with you would be dead a hundred times over. The person has five seconds to walk away and if they don’t, his fingers are digging into his face. It’s a threat for all others in the room that you’re off limits.

K: Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?)

He is a harsh kisser- cracked lips that are scarred are pressed against yours- slowly molding into a more passionate kiss. He loves to kiss you, it’s his chance to show you how much he cares for you without saying it. He will always kiss you when he gets the chance. He’s less likely to do it in public, but he won’t pull away if you insinuate it.

L: Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?)

Tomura says the l-word far into the relationship, eyes that stare deep in yours and the hint of a smile threatening to spill as he tells you that he loves you. He doesn’t say it often, you’re the one who tells him and he nods in affirmation. He prefers to show his love to you. If you want someone to disappear, he’s on it, you want a new controller, a store is getting ransacked that night. Often times, his love is shown to you with his vulnerability.

M: Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

He doesn’t want to get married. He sees it as a waste since he knows that he loves you and that you love him. You two have been together through thick and thin and he’s aware that you’re not going to leave him.

N: Night Out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?)

Date nights are nights. Given who he is, you two can’t exactly go to a movie theater or take a walk in the park so regular nights where you two are alone are often considered date nights. You’ll bring home take out and watch movies or watch him play a game, often playing together and just stay together. He feels a tad annoyed that he can’t go out with you but you always claim that you’re happy at home with him and you prefer to be indoors anyways.

O: Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?)

He hardly expresses his concerns with you. You’ll try to ease him into sharing with you, claiming that it’s what partners do and that you’re with him and you accept every part of him and his life. He still can’t bring himself to go to you and express his emotions the way you can. He tells you it’s not a big deal- that it concerns stuff he doesn’t want to put on you but he still lets you massage his scalp and press gentle kisses to him when he’s had a difficult day.

P: Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

While he’s serious in the beginning, he becomes more playful as the relationship progresses. He teases you a lot more, will engage with banter and snicker when you whine and call him mean.

Q: Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

He won’t ask for your opinion, he doesn’t really care but if you voice it, he’s more likely to change his view on whatever it was. He will voice his opinion before you can even open your mouth.

R: Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

The relationship is spontaneous. He shows up to your door in the middle of the night or breaks in through a window and will just shake you awake. If he has a spare second, he’s using it on you. Things with him just happen and you just have to go with it. He’ll respect your wishes if you just want to sleep while he’s there or if you rather not go out anywhere but he will complain for a bit.

S: Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

He will avoid sleeping with you in the beginning. You truly mean a lot to him and he can’t risk losing you because you wanted to sleep in the same bed with him. It’s a slow progression when he starts to sleep you, back facing you to a body that sleeps still, to facing towards you and eventually cuddling to sleep.

T: Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

He will not trust you in the beginning of the relationship, he’ll shun you out and lie but once he realizes you’re there to stay, he will place his entire trust in you. He will trust to go to you with more of the League’s minor plans, for his own personal reasons. He’d never say it but he’d place his life in your hands.

U: Unique (What makes them unique as an s/o?)

Tomura is an obsessive lover. Growing up in his conditions where he had no contact with anyone his age and being stunted emotionally, he grows to be obsessed with you, always wanting you by his side and needing to know if you’re safe. Once he’s able to touch you, he’s holding onto you, always a hand on you and keeping you close to him.

V: Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

You’re in it for the long run if you want him to be vulnerable. He’s already a person who wants to stick close by you, but when he’s vulnerable you see a side of him you haven’t seen before. He’s pressed against you and hiding his face, he’ll make noises of disapproval if you try to shift in fear that you’re going to leave. He’s needy to new extent, and he’s quiet, only wanting you to touch him.

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

You are his haven. He may not be the most vocal about how much you really mean to him, but you are the best thing he’s had in his life. He goes to you for comfort, for reassurance, for praise, for love. You are the one thing that calms him down without the additional feeling of sickness.

X: X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?)

If you got hurt on your own accord he’s telling you to be more careful and treating you a tad softer depending on your level of injury. However, if someone were to hurt you, it’s an immediate death, hands over the person’s face and watching them disintegrate. He’s silent and cold, even to you, the only indication that he cares is that he doesn’t allow you to leave the bed no matter the level of injury, he’s keeping watch on at all times.

Y: Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

He dislikes that you want to celebrate holidays. He doesn’t see the need and finds it tedious, it’s so much work for one day and you usually want him to just wait and relax for a second but he doesn’t have time to relax. You want to show your love a little bit more during those days and want him to just put a little effort but he sees it as a dumb holiday(s) and will turn his nose up.

As for something that bothers you, he’s dismissive and waves off your concerns. He will run himself ragged, resting once his body can’t handle to stay up any longer and you want to ease a bit of his workload, but he won’t let you get anywhere near the League if he can help it. He’ll say he’s fine and that’s final.

Z: Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

While he may not be the most affectionate type, he’s very passionate about the relationship and he shows it through his actions. He presses heated kisses against you, pressing his body against yours and littering your body with the ghost of his lips. He doesn’t necessarily need passion, but when it’s given to him, he needs it more than he needs air- he needs to get drunk off of it and commit your touch to memory.

[chestharrington]

Adult Education || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve Harrington is really weird about the adult film section of Family Video, which really should change its name. After a lot of teasing about dirty movies and the people who rent them, you both take your fixation on dirty movies a little too far.

Couple: Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader (GN Pronouns)

Category: Smut/Fluff

Content Warning: graphic smut, mutual masturbation, mentions of really bad 1980s adult movies

Word Count: 6.3k

Requests: Open!

For a Friday, the video store was pretty dead. You sat on top of the counter, grateful that Keith had better things to do than police your behavior. Usually, when he caught you, he’d go into a tirade about wasting employee time and loitering without making a purchase. 

Okay, so you didn’t work at Family Video and maybe you did intimidate some customers with annoyed stares when they interrupted your conversations. Still… free country and all that. 

Steve was doing his best to look occupied while you hounded him, an amused grin painting your lips as he blushed practically crimson. 

“C’mon, Steve, you’re a grown man!” You leaned forward, staring pointedly until he turned to meet your gaze. “You’re telling me you’ve never wanted to creep behind that partition and sneak a peek?”

He sighed. Deeply. “Technically, I have to go behind that partition and reshelve whatever the degenerates bring back.”

You grinned wickedly at that. “Watching porn doesn’t make you a degenerate, Steve. It’s totally legal now. Normal, even.”

Whatever effort Steve was putting into the pointless task of alphabetizing the candy bars on the counter was halted. Clearly, he couldn’t avoid the conversation. 

“Need I remind you that this store is called Family Video?” He whispered insistently. You peered around the empty store and raised a brow. “What’s with the hang-up on dirty movies today anyway?”

You shrugged, drawing shapes mindlessly onto the glass countertop. “I’m just curious,” you admitted. “Nudie mags are one thing, but movies… I dunno. They seem illicit and sexy to me.”

Steve did his best to run from the rest of the conversation, taking the cart of movies to be reshelved on a stroll through the store. It would’ve been a nice respite from being cornered behind the counter if you weren’t always two steps behind him. 

He reached up, shelving the constantly rented VHS of Sixteen Candles where it belonged while you watched curiously. His shirt rode up slightly, and you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning at the sight of a happy trail. 

“Need something?” He asked impatiently. 

“All good,” you replied with a cherubic smile. “Just wondering why you’re so shy when talking about this with one of your best friends.”

As if on cue, Robin appeared from the back rooms with new standees and merchandise to put on display. “Ooh, talking about what?”

Steve’s eyes went wide, and his jaw clenched as your smile grew. You could see the threat in his gaze. Don’t you dare.

“I can’t say,” you replied sweetly. “Stevie here’s shy.” You winked and sauntered towards the counter, picking through the new promotional merch like a vulture on a carcass.

Robin furrowed her brows, glancing between you and Steve quickly. “It’s the porn, isn’t it?” 

You sighed in relief. “Yes! It’s weird right?”

“So weird. Especially about reshelving.”

Steve scoffed loudly from the drama section, peering over the shelves to glare. “I’m right here, you know.” He rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter. 

———

The next time it comes up is a Tuesday, when you’re sitting behind the counter with Steve and an old man with burning red cheeks places a VHS tape called Pleasure Olympics onto the counter for a return. 

“Don’t say anything,” Steve said firmly after the man was gone. 

“I wasn’t going to!” You replied, which was a lie. You were absolutely gonna razz him about it. “It’s just… is it weird knowing that geriatric guy was jerking off to it? Kinda makes you not want to touch it.”

He gives an exasperated sigh, letting his head fall into his hands. “I just said don’t say anything. Gross.” His lips fall into an exaggerated pout and you genuinely feel a swell of pity for him. 

“C’mon, if it bothers you so much I’ll go put it back,” you offered. “And I’ll stop teasing you about the porn since it’s bugging you.” You pause, biting your lip for a moment before the words spill out. “It’s just… aren’t you at least a little curious?”

“I’m not.. I mean I—“ He was tripping over his own tongue, his cheeks burning, blazing hot. “I’m.. I—“ He shut his mouth firmly for a few moments to collect himself. “Maybe a little.”

And his eyes looked so warm and sheepish and earnest for a second that you wanted to melt or puke. It was sickeningly sweet. “C’mon let’s put this back and see what we’re working with here,” you said. With a swift movement, you snatched up Pleasure Olympics and made your way towards the partitioned room. 

“Hey, I don’t… I don’t know if we should,” Steve said, helplessly following you. “I mean, someone’s gotta man the desk. So like… maybe we shouldn’t, and I can take that back there.”

You blinked a few times, confusion furrowing your brows. “Stevie, it’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday. I think we’ll be fine for like, one minute.” Before he could physically hold you back from the illicit back room, you slipped behind the curtain. 

“Oh,” you sighed, more than a little deflated. It wasn’t some erotic, mysterious liminal space like you’d been imagining. It was just a room. Albeit, a room filled with graphic erotic images on VHS cases, but still. “This is so boring.” Steve skidded to a stop beside you, swallowing audibly as you circled the room like a predator searching for prey. 

“Where does this one go?” You asked, holding up the old man’s tape. 

“Uh.” Steve swallowed again, his eyes glued on the sight of bare tits on a cover in front of him. “Um. New— uh, new releases.”

“Heh, release,” you muttered under your breath, shelving it without much thought where he had said. You doubted that anyone back here cared about organization that much. “So… see anything you like?”

His eyes snapped to yours, wide with affront. “Hey! That’s… We are not going to talk about…” he waved his hands wildly in a gesture to what you assumed to be the entire room, “This.”

You held up your hands in surrender but kept your eyes glued on the cases curiously. It was your turn to swallow hard, feeling like your mouth was simultaneously too wet and completely dry like you were hot all over. 

Maybe, just maybe, you’d taken the teasing too far. 

“Oh, so now you’re the one who’s shy about all this,” Steve said, almost victoriously. You frowned, insulted by the idea that you would be prudish and shy about anything. Fuck. That. 

“Nope,” you said firmly. You let your eyes wander the shelves for a moment longer before you snatched a tape up and held it out. “I want to rent this one.”

   He blinked at you dumbly, his brain not computing the sight of you holding a dirty movie and the innocent-looking outfit you wore. His mouth hung open for a few moments too long before he firmly shook his head. “No. No, I’m not renting you that.” He insisted. 

“Why not?” You asked defiantly. “I’m a customer, right? Keith likes to remind me of that all the time.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also you and one of my best friends so I’m not going to rent you…” his voice went quiet and a little pitchy, “porn.”

A huff of indignation flew past your lips as you realized that the two of you were clearly at an impasse. “For someone who can’t shut up about all the sex he has, you are such a prude.”

“I’m not a prude!” He said insistently. “If anything, you’re the prude and I’m… the opposite of a prude.”

“So let me rent…” You paused to glance at the title in your hand, “Erotic Detention II, and see what the hype is about. And then I’ll never bring it up again. Pinky promise.”

He sighed, running his hands through his carefully styled hair. Just the fact that you had gotten him to do that annoyed him. “You’ll shut up about the dirty movies forever if I let you take that home?” He asked pointedly. With a sickeningly sweet smile, you nodded. He swore under his breath, and you knew he was gonna cave.“Fine. But I don’t want to hear about it.”

You grinned. “Of course not, Stevie. You’ll just have to live the rest of your life wondering what happens to people in erotic detention.”

He rolled his eyes. “If I had to guess, I’d say sex.” He pushed past the privacy curtain, back into the main shop, and, of course, you were right on his heels to continue pestering him about other matters.

———

Steve called your private line every night that week. “So, have you watched your perverted movie yet?” He’d ask, trying his best to sound like he was teasing instead of morbidly curious. 

By Friday night, you had grown tired of his weird act. “For someone who didn’t want to hear about it, you sure seem interested.” He stumbled through a reply, which made you grin. “I’ve got the house free this weekend, so tomorrow I’ll finally put the sinful movie in the player and cement my place in hell. Plus I don’t want a late fee.”

He scoffed, or choked on air. You really couldn’t tell which. “Yeah, well, have fun with that,” was all he could manage in reply. 

“Steve, can you just admit that you’re curious about the movie and stop acting like a total puritan?” You sighed, twirling the cord of the phone around your finger. “This is all strictly to satiate my curiosity. I’m not going to be like… touching myself or anything while I watch it.”

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N).” You could hear his breath heavy on the other line. Huh. There was a pause, heavy and weirdly intense as both of you scrambled for something to say. “Do you really think you’ll be able to control yourself?” 

Huh.

“I guess I’ll find out tomorrow, and I promise you won’t hear about it. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.”

———

Almost exactly 24 hours later, you were in your basement, hands sweating as you put the tape into your VHS player. After hyping the mere idea of dirty movies up so much with Steve, you felt strangely unprepared to press play. 

A shaky breath escaped your lips, and you felt hot all over. There was something weirdly erotic about the entire act, something sinful about having a physical tape of people fucking in your possession. 

Steve’s words echoed in your mind and you wondered, could you control yourself? 

It was weird how insistently you pestered him about pornos. It was weird that he had called to ask if you’d watched it yet. It was weird that you had even brought one home and let it get to this point. 

As you were considering taking it out and returning it to Family Video with your tail tucked between your legs, there was a knock at your door. 

A yelp escaped you, and the shame of it all made you want to hide for the rest of the night. In the deep recesses of your brain, you were convinced some sort of porn police was at your door ready to lock you away for being a degenerate. Reluctantly, you tiptoed up the stairs and into the foyer, where you saw a recognizable silhouette behind the glass of your front door. 

Steve Harrington.

“What are you—?” Before you could finish asking, he’d pushed the door open further with his foot, sidestepping you to make his way in. “Alright, be my guest.”

He smiled back at you, making his way into your living room with an armful of pizza and sodas. “Wanted to stop by,” he said with an easy smile, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. “You weren’t busy, were you?”

With a simple shrug, you closed the front door. “No, not all, Stevie, make yourself at home.” He immediately sat down on your couches, the plastic covers crinkling. It didn’t matter that they were almost as old as you were, you doubted the actual fabric would ever see the light of day. 

“No Robin?” You asked, settling on the floor in front of him, eager to dig into the pizza boxes. A delighted smile spread across your lips at the sight of your favorite toppings— he knew you so well. 

“Does Robin have to be here for me to hang out with you?” He asked, reaching over you unceremoniously to grab the piece with the best toppings. 

A scrunch formed between your brows as you considered it. “Typically? Yeah.” You grabbed a slice and leaned back against his legs, sighing contentedly at a hot meal after a day of canned soup and random shit from the pantry. “What’re you doing in my neck of the woods anyway?”

“I was just… around,” he said around a mouthful of food, though you could hear a hint of restraint in him. “Any plans tonight?” Goddammit, he was so obvious.

“Nope,” you replied. “I mean, I have Erotic Detention II queued up downstairs, but that can wait. I want to spend time with my best friend Steve Harrington.” You turned to face him with a wide, notably false smile. He swallowed hard, his cheeks an adorable if not annoying shade of pink. 

“Oh… that…” he trailed off in a very poor mimicry of nonchalance. “I, like, totally forgot you even had that. That’s… that’s crazy.”

“Steve, be honest… Do you want to talk to me about my lord and savior or something?”

“What? No!”

You turned to face him, sitting back on your heels with a curious expression. His fists awkwardly rubbed along his thighs— he could have either been wiping off pizza grease or clammy hands and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Gut instinct told you it was the latter. More than that, he was struggling to even meet your gaze. 

“I’m an idiot,” you said on an exhale. “You wanna watch it, don’t you?”

“No!” He said insistently. 

“So… you want to watch me watch it?” You asked, brows furrowed. 

He swore under his breath and you wanted to grab him by his shoulders and just shake until something that made sense popped out. “Look, Steve. Robin says they’re like… super cheesy and poorly acted and dumb. So let’s just rip off the proverbial band-aid together.”

His eyes went wide. Robin? You wanted to roll your eyes but he seemed like a frightened little rabbit who might spook at the first sudden move. 

“Fine, but the second things get weird, we’re turning it off and watching Saturday Night Live.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “Deal. We probably won’t even make it past the opening credits.” With an easy laugh, you grabbed the pizza and hurried down into the basement. 

You vaguely waved to the couch as you heard Steve join you, muttering something about getting comfy while you pulled the TV trays from the corner in front of the couch. Satisfied, you placed your pizza boxes on one and nodded for Steve to put the sodas on the other. 

Perfect. It’s like a fucked up version of thanksgiving.

“It’s pretty nice down here,” Steve mused, wandering around your basement while you grabbed a blanket from the old chest that used to be in your bedroom. “Why don’t we ever hang out here? It’s always Robin’s or Family Video.”

“My parents. They’re in that midlife phase where they’re obsessed with feeling young again. Makes having friends over pretty weird.”

With a contented sigh, you looked at your work and felt like you had done all the stalling possible. Steve settled into the couch, stretching out lengthwise so you’d have to squeeze to fit at all. But you’d cross that bridge later. There were more important matters to attend to.  

You settled on the ground in front of the TV set, daunted by the simple task of pressing a single button. Your mouth felt dry as you sat in front of the VHS player. The inside of your lip felt raw from all the biting you had done since you made it downstairs. 

“You have to press play, by the way,” Steve piped up. How had he gone from a blushing, bumbling idiot to the smug asshole behind you? 

“Shut up, I know how a VHS player works,” you muttered. Your annoyance finally gave you the strength to press the stupid play button, which left you scrambling to the couch before the film began. 

After a brief MPAA title card warning you about the contents of the film, the worst jazz music you had ever heard filled the room. Erotic Detention II was plastered across the screen in a garish red script before the names of the actors scrolled across. 

Nothing too bad, you thought as you tucked your legs beneath you. I can definitely make it through this. 100%. And then the credits ended, and the onscreen fucking began just as abruptly. 

No story build-up, no introduction to the characters— just two very naked people fucking on a squeaky desk while more horrible jazz music played. 

“Huh.” You cocked your head and furrowed your brows at the sight. 

“Huh? Huh, what? What are you ‘huh’-ing about?” Steve asked quickly. 

“Huh, like is that really what people look like when they’re having sex? It’s so… I don’t know.” Embarrassing? Weird? The awkwardly lit, overacted passion on screen made you want to make a renewed vow of celibacy. “Like… look at the tan line on his ass. I’ve never thought about the guys I sleep with having tan lines on their asses before.”

He huffed, affronted. “I’m not looking at his ass.”

“It’s basically all they're showing,” you replied with a scoff. Your eyes went wide at a graphic shot of the literal penetration happening, your lips turning into a frown. “I stand corrected.”

You weren’t exactly sure who was getting off on videos like this. Maybe it was the novelty and risk of watching, or maybe some people enjoyed watching sex even with the weird camera angles and fake moans. There had to be a better way to do it, but you weren’t sure what it was. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw that Steve was totally glued to the sight before him. His dark eyes were wide— glossy and reflecting the screen a bit. His mouth was slightly ajar, lips wet from his tongue darting out to swipe across them. Did he like it? Were you just watching it wrong?

The realization hit you suddenly— you needed to get out of your head if you were going to actually gain something from watching it. You tried to forget that Steve was there, tried to forget about the shitty jazz music and that it was an elaborate film production at all. You were simply a voyeur peering in on something illicit and sexy. In a totally consensual and normal way, of course. 

There was something about the way that the woman on the screen arched and gasped with each thrust, the hunger in her eyes when the man leaned down to kiss her. Teeth dug into your bottom lip as you sat up a little straighter. 

And the way they talked was unlike anything you’d ever heard. All your hookups had been quick in the back of cars or weren’t worth making any noise about at all. The carnality and hunger that they spoke with made desire burn in the pit of your belly. 

You felt yourself slipping in the way you shifted in your seat, the way your mouth felt dry and you had to keep swallowing or licking your lips to feel comfortable. It was like you had never truly been awake within yourself before, and your body was springing to life, little by little. You were annoyingly conscious of the feeling of your tits beneath your cotton T-Shirt, the way it rubbed against your nipples. And you regretted the decision to forgo actual pants and just wear some of the boxers you got to sleep in. 

Everything within you was desperate to break the tension with some snide comment about the bad lighting or make fun of the guy’s ass tan lines again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Despite your greatest efforts (which, really, weren’t that great at all), you were really fucking turned on. 

Onscreen they switched positions, or acts, or whatever. You couldn’t think well enough to really describe what they were doing. But she was on her knees with a dick in her mouth, eyes wide and tongue out. You wanted to fucking whimper. 

Holy shit, you thought. I’m watching this with Steve.

It was that moment that you glanced over, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, but must’ve only been five minutes. His cheeks were a pretty pink, and he was so wired-in to whatever was happening on screen that he didn’t even notice you watching him. But you were, and he was doing his best, you had to give him that. 

It didn’t feel very friend-like to notice that Steve was visibly hard. Your entire face, ears, and neck went flaming hot like you’d been suddenly thrust under a heat lamp. His hands were firmly splayed out on his thighs, unmoving, though the occasional twitch in his fingers said he really fucking wanted to move them. 

And holy fuck, you wanted him to move them too. 

You looked away quickly, partly knowing you should end whatever this was then and there. But you liked it. Maybe that made you a deviant sex freak degenerate or whatever Steve had said (and based on the looks of him, he was the same fucking thing), but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

If there was some sort of manual for this, you would have been frantically flipping through pages to the one titled, “how to politely tell your best friend that they’re allowed to get themselves off while you sit beside them, and that you kind of want to do the same, and it’s totally normal and friends can do that because it isn’t weird unless you’re touching right?”

You wanted a lobotomy. Maybe you could use your Nana’s old knitting needles that were sitting in the corner. 

Onscreen, the scene had totally changed and you didn’t even notice. Frankly, you didn’t even think they were in detention anymore, and you weren’t sure how they had managed to squeeze in that plot point while you were debating telling Steve that he could totally jerk off if he wanted to. 

“This isn’t right,” the girl onscreen gasped while her onscreen partner kneeled between her thighs. They were in library stacks, apparently. Definitely not detention. “We shouldn’t.”

But they did. 

“Steve?” You said, your voice sounding strange in your own ears. He made a weak noise in response, something between a hum and a whimper. Jesus Christ. “This is… I mean you can… if you want.” Not how you wanted that to come out. “I mean, if we don’t touch each other nothing will be weird.”

He swallowed and you glanced over at him, looking over at you for the first time since the movie started. His pretty brown eyes were dark and hungry, his cheeks flushed and his mouth so pretty. “Mhmm. Totally. It wouldn’t be weird if we don’t touch.”

“Yeah,” you gasped in response. “Yeah, it’s okay.” 

The dam broke totally then. Anything that might’ve been holding you back was now utterly and totally washed out by how ridiculously horny you were. 

A contented sigh escaped your lips as you let your fingers slip past the waistband of your boxers, too pent up to tease. You were soaking wet, coating your fingers as you let them circle your entrance before replacing them on your clit. Soft circles weren’t good enough. You wanted to fuck yourself into sweet, blissful oblivion. 

“Fuck,” you gasped, throwing your head back. Half of you wanted to forget Steve was there so you could really focus on yourself, but the other was completely honed in on his presence. 

The softest of noises were slipping past his lips, his hand rubbing along his hard-on through his jeans. It was cute, the way his hips shifted and thrust into his own touch. God, he was cute. 

“You don’t have to do it like that,” you said quickly before you had a chance to regret it. “You should get to feel good. Really good. I won’t mind.”

“Yeah?” He asked. You nodded quickly and he gave a gratified sigh. “Fuck, yeah, okay.” He sat up quickly, tearing his polo over his head and tossing it over the back of the couch. At your confused expression, he gave a sheepish smile. “I don’t like making messes.”

Oh. You swallowed hard. “Okay.” 

You shouldn’t have kept watching, really. It was all rapidly devolving past things friends do, which, if you were being honest, had probably started the moment Steve walked in the front door. 

His fingers were fumbling with desperation as he popped the button of his jeans, quick to tug down his zipper and offer himself a bit of respite from how ridiculously tight his pants were. He practically shoved his hand into his briefs to get some actual relief, desperate and needy. 

Onscreen, the girl gripped onto shelves to ground herself as her partner feasted between her thighs. His eyes wide, peering up at her from where he was latched onto her pussy, her thighs dimpled beneath his fingers from his tight grip. 

It was hard to do much of anything with your shorts still on— making any sort of below the belt touching awkward. You couldn’t exactly make yourself cum with limited mobility. Fuck it. You lifted your hips off the couch just enough to tug the boxers down your legs, kicking them off to the side. 

In your mind, Steve was both present and completely irrelevant, which was horribly contradictory. Sort of like a Schrodinger’s Steve situation where if you wanted him there you were totally cognizant, while also having his presence melt into nothingness when you weren’t focused on him. You needed it to be like that for you to retain your sanity and keep from having a total meltdown.

But then he made a soft, needy sound in the back of his throat, and oh boy was he on the forefront of your mind. You glanced over and his gaze was on you— on the desperate movement of your hand between your thighs, on your parted lips and heaving chest. 

Both of you should’ve turned away, but you wanted to watch him, you wanted him to watch you. You moved your free hand to your lips, pushing two fingers into your mouth, and he moaned. You felt like you’d seen heaven. When you moved those fingers between your legs and pushed them inside of yourself, he looked totally wrecked. 

As you curled your fingers and grazed delicious spots within yourself, you were struck with the sudden fear that you would cum too fast and reality would come crashing down around you. There was nothing you could do anymore, no way to squeeze the toothpaste back into the proverbial tube. 

Might as well make it count. “I wanna see you,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze with lidded eyes. “Please?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, okay.” You wanted to kiss him on his stupid, cute mouth. If this was the effect that pornography had on people, you weren’t surprised why so many politicians wanted to ban it. It was turning you into some sort of hormonal monster. And you weren’t even upset.

The sight of Steve with his dick in his hand felt like a religious experience— the sort of thing that makes you want to change the trajectory of your life forever. The self-imposed no-touching rule felt sacrilegious, and you had never hated your own words more in your life. 

“You’re so pretty, Stevie.” The words slipped past your lips like a prayer. The moan he gave in response was all the answer you needed. “And so big. Wanna feel you.”

You weren’t super coherent at that point— any filter you had was gone, and all of the words that you kept under lock and key on any given day came spilling out.

His blush deepened. You felt like you were on fire all over, practically riding your own fingers as your finish neared. The movie was forgotten at that point. You had both turned towards each other, letting your eyes rake over one another’s bodies. 

It felt like a rubber band had snapped when you finally came— all tension leaving your body as your fingers worked you through your finish. Your head fell back against the cushion, eyes fluttering closed as utterly delicious waves of pleasure washed over you. 

You were partially aware of Steve then, the moans falling from his lips, the comforting feeling of his presence near you. You didn’t open your eyes until your breathing had returned to normal, suddenly overcome with bashfulness as you tugged your shirt down and chewed on your lip. 

An arm had been thrown over his eyes, his chest heaving and glistening in the dim basement light. Ropes of cum cooled on his belly, his cock still twitching with aftershocks. 

The movie felt horribly graphic, with the loud, overdramatic moans and the weird music. You stood up on legs that felt like jelly and made your way to the TV, which you quickly powered off. 

Your shorts were a little ways away from the couch, so you slipped those back on too, hyper-aware of Steve’s gaze locked on you. 

“What?” You asked, raising a brow as you hopped back onto the couch. He was making quick work of trying to be presentable, mopping up his tummy with his shirt, quickly buttoning his pants. 

“Hm?” He asked, looking quickly at you, then away. “Nothing. Just, uh, great movie.”

“So good,” you lied. “Five stars.” 

“Do you, uh, want to wash that shirt now?” You asked, trying not to sound as awkward as you felt. “You can borrow one of mine while you wait.”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.” 

“Washer’s over there.” You gestured vaguely towards the back wall. “And there’s a small bathroom if you wanna clean up more. I’ll, uh, go grab you a shirt.”

Escaping to your room had never felt so good. You were quick to shut the door behind you and pull your phone into your closet, the springy cord sandwiched between the frame and the closet door.

The number you dialed was muscle memory, and you were eternally grateful when they picked up after only one ring. 

“Hello?” Fuck. Parents were the last thing you wanted right now.

“Hey, is Robin home?” You asked, trying to sound casual. “Tell her it’s a friend emergency.” The adult on the other line grumbled, and you heard muffled commotion and movement as the phone was passed to someone else. 

“Jesus, it’s late for a friend emergency,” Robin mused into the line. “Everything okay?”

You sighed deeply and cupped your hand around the phone. “I fucked up,” you said quietly. “Steve came by and—“

“You and Steve?” She asked quickly. “Shut up. Did you guys like… do it? Wait! Don’t tell me that, but I also really wanna know.”

You shook your head quickly before realizing that she couldn’t see. “No! We didn’t touch each other or anything, I just feel like we’ve kind of crossed a big line that we’ll never come back from.”

She sighed on the other end. “That’s pretty vague. And confusing.” You were about to vaguely go over a little bit of what happened when you heard Steve call your name from the basement. 

“Shit. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow, I think.” Before she could say anything, you hung up the phone and grabbed the first shirt you found on the way out of your closet. 

Steve stood at the foot of the stairs, a can of Coke in one hand and a box of detergent in the other. “I can’t figure out the washing machine,” he explained. 

“I’ve got it,” you replied, trading him the clean shirt for the detergent. “Just go turn on Saturday Night Live or something.”

“Right,” he replied, sounding a little more than dejected. He sprawled out on the couch and powered the TV on, which immediately made shitty porn blare over the speakers. He scrambled to the floor, hurrying to turn off the VCR and put it back on cable. You both laughed forcefully before returning to your respective tasks. 

You started the wash and returned to the couch hesitantly, settling on the very far end opposite of him. The cushion between you could’ve been miles— at least, that’s what it felt like. 

“I like this new guy,” Steve piped up, gesturing at the screen. “Robert Downey whatever.” You didn’t feel like saying that this season’s cast wasn’t your favorite, so you just mindlessly nodded. 

The awkwardness was killing you. You wanted to just word vomit everything you were feeling, but it was so much easier to just sit in silence. Halfway through the episode, though, he reached out for you, nodding to his outstretched arm. “C’mere, dork,” he teased with a hopeful smile. 

You felt yourself relax at his offhand term of endearment, despite how weird you felt about what you had done. But was it weird? You were both so into it that you couldn't bring yourself to regret it at all. You scooched across the mile-long cushion and settled against his side, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“You know you’re one of my best friends, right?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Mhmm…” you trailed off, turning to look up at him. 

“But that was pretty hot.”

“Really hot,” you agreed with a smug smile. “You’re like… pretty well endowed actually. I never would’ve guessed.”

He furrowed his brows, mouthing never would have guessed with a confused expression. “Thank you?”

“I mean it,” you said insistently. “Like you come off as a guy who’s all talk, but, wow, you are not.” 

“Alright, alright!” He said with a sheepish laugh. “No more talking like that or I’ll get turned on again.” You raised a brow, trying to fight a grin. Gonna tuck that away for later. 

It got quiet again as you turned your attention back towards the TV, where you both laughed at the occasional good joke or rolled your eyes at the frequent bad ones. Steve's hand was warm against your skin as he absentmindedly traced shapes along your arm. "Can I admit something?" He asked suddenly. 

"I don't think there's a lot you can't do around me anymore," you replied with a laugh. 

He exhaled nervously. "I totally watch tons of porn all the time," he said quickly. "Like, I sneak movies like that out of the back room practically every shift."

Your eyes went wide as you sat up, shoving him playfully. "You fucking pervert! I knew there was something weird going on with you and the porn! You're, like, addicted or something, like they talk about on the news." You sat back down against his side, feeling victorious for catching him on it. But... you paused, furrowing your brows. "So... why were you so weird about me watching it?"

"I wasn't being weird," he said defensively. "I just... didn't think you were going to go through with it. Whatever, my secret is off my chest, and now you know. Do not tell Robin." You mimed zipping your lips and snuggled closer.

He was definitely being weird about it before, but you weren't going to push him. You were pretty sure you knew why.

———

You woke up drooling on Steve’s shoulder, blinking lazily at the sight of morning news playing on the screen. Steve was warm beneath you, burning like a furnace. You sighed, wiping your mouth on the back of your hands.

“Steve?” You said, voice croaky with sleep. 

“Mmm…” he didn’t bother opening his eyes. His hair was messy with sleep, falling into his face.

“Didn’t you have work today?” 

He stood suddenly, the shirt he’d borrowed from your closet riding up to expose his stomach. “Shit! Shit. I’m due in…” he trailed off, glancing at the cat-shaped clock on the wall. “20 minutes. And we’re about a 15-minute drive. Keith is going to murder me.”

“Uniform?” You asked, frantically cleaning up the pizza boxes and empty cans. 

He nodded, scrambling aimlessly. “Vest’s in the car, and uhhh… shit.” He frowned over at you from the washing machine, holding up his very wet polo. “Fell asleep before I dried my shirt so I’m stuck with—“ he peered down to look at the shirt you’d given him. “'Hawkins High Theatre Troupe '85.”

“Aw, you’re so cute when you're wearing my clothes, Stevie,” you teased, throwing him his keys. “Spare toothbrush in my bathroom. You know where my room is.”

“Thank you,” he said quickly, crossing the room to plant a kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll see you later, alright?” 

You wrinkled your nose and pushed him away teasingly. “Alright, big guy, get going.” He made it halfway up the stairs before he stopped suddenly and came back down. “Almost forgot.” He popped out the VHS tape and held it up victoriously. You rolled your eyes as he ran upstairs. 

A few minutes later, you heard the telltale sounds of the front door slamming, his car radio blaring, and his tires squealing away. 

What a weird week.

———

Sundays were the worst, but Robin was genuinely looking forward to Steve walking through the doors after her strange call with you the night prior. She spun around on the chair behind the counter, twirling a pen between her fingers, sighing heavily as she looked at the clock. 

Fifteen minutes after his shift was supposed to start, Steve practically burst through the door, looking frazzled and panicked. And… holding a porno in his left hand. 

“Hey, dingus,” she greeted. “Nice of you to join us today.”

“Robin,” he gasped, leaning across the counter, a dopey smile on his lips. “I think I’m in love.”

[oftenderweapons]

Dirty ABCs | Namjoon and Vixen

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen (OC)

Wordcount: 2.1k

Genre: headcanons

Rating: 18+. Minors, do not interact.

This just me having a little bit of fun in between collabs and commissions with an NSFW alphabet, so I can also get to know my characters better (yes, they're just characters. Do not assume the boys like/dislike any of the things I mention). A new drabble should be out soon, but just in case you missed it, here's Jimin's post-Soowoozoo smut! Please, read the trigger warnings carefully 🥺💖

Here's my masterlist! enjoy!!!! 💜✨

Trigger warnings: cumshots, cumeating, creampie, marking, unprotected sex, switch!vixen, switch!joon, daddy!joon, DDLG, lapdance, stripping, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, roleplay, homework within a professorxstudent roleplay, positions (doggy, missionary, reverse cowgirl, bend over), intimacy kink (?), bondage (hands tied, gags), impact play, oral sex, oral fixation, biting, casual mention of foot fetish, food play, choking kink, erotic massage, jealousy (kink), sapiosexuality, size kink, mention of infidelity and sharing partners, mention of outdoor sex, sex toys (dildo, vibrator, manacles, cockring, paddle, buttplug), edging, orgasm denial, orgasm control, overstimulation, BDSM club, uhm...bicuriosity ig?, thickdick!Namjoon, bubblebutt!Vixen impressive sex drive (?)

Aftercare: Namjoon is the kind of guy who’d gladly collapse in bed after some good, nasty fucking. He puts plenty of energy in it and he isn’t content until he’s barely alive before calling it a night. Yes, both him and Vixen need to force the other into heading to the bathroom and cleaning up before falling asleep. When he goes especially hard on her, aftercare becomes a way to relax for both of them: he needs to pamper her to even things out, and she in return likes spoiling him, giving him cuddles, letting him fall asleep with his head on her chest while she strokes his hair. Yes, his favourite cuddle is her touching his hair and chatting about how they felt during sex.

Body part: He most definitely has a thing for legs, hips and ass. Vixen is all about his chest and arms — but, truth is she’s absolutely crazy about his neck.

Cum: He either cums inside or on Vixen’s ass. No other alternatives for him. He hates cumming in her mouth, mostly because her cunt is soooo much better to him; and then again, that means he can eat her out right after — or mark her up and shove his cum back inside. Vixen is a fan of him cumming inside, she’s pretty much traditional about this.

Dirty secret: Namjoon loves when Vixen doms him. He’d never admit that out loud but he’s praying for her to tie him up and strip for him before performing a lapdance and fucking herself with that glass dildo he bought her… He’ll just wait… hopefully… Vixen wants Namjoon to give her homework on some impossible topic and then punish her for every mistake she makes while he’s dressed in a suit and glasses.

Experience: We know all about Joon’s and Vixen’s bodycount. Joon had four, possibly five partners, one of which broke his heart. He wasn’t entirely vanilla with them, but Vixen is most definitely the spiciest he’s been with — and the most rewarding. Vixen had two partners before Namjoon and her first boyfriend was way more experienced than Namjoon is, but that is not an issue to her. She knows if she ever asked him, they could try out pretty much anything.

Favourite position: Namjoon is mostly about doggy and missionary. Doggy for enthusiastic fucking with that teenage eagerness that characterises them both. Missionary when he needs to make love to her slow and steady — though he admits Vixen on top of him in reverse cowgirl is also a hot topic for him. Vixen likes good old missionary since she likes Namjoon’s body shielding hers. She also enjoys bending over for him — especially on the back of the sofa.

Goofy: neither of them is that goofy when it comes to sex. For them is a moment to get rid of tension and gain more intimacy. It’s a moment of communication and connection, and a very spiritual one at that. There might be little giggles and laughs here and there when they’re in a playful mood, but even then they’re more happy than goofy.

Hair: Namjoon trims his hair slightly, just to keep things neat and tidy. Vixen used to shave at the beginning of their relationship. She waxed a few times, to try something different and to feel Namjoon’s tongue better when he goes down on her. She switched to trimming when she found out Namjoon enjoyed a more natural look.

Intimacy: Nothing isn’t intimate between these two. Brushing their teeth together before going to bed? Religion. Getting dinner ready? A ritual. Making love? Therapy. Fucking like gorillas? Relief. These two share one single soul. They’re each other’s temple, and their bedroom is their church.

Jack off: These two? Masturbation galore. They’re the literal proof that being in a relationship should never stop you from taking care of yourself. They masturbate together while they watch porn, they masturbate to the sight of the other one doing it or just watching them. Namjoon is a huge fan of watching Vixen touch herself. He can do it with his hands tied, untied, or stroking his cock. He really doesn’t care as long as he can watch. Plus the fact that the wall dividing his bedroom from the shower is made of glass really gives him the best view when he has morning wood and Vixen is washing herself. And that goes both ways. She likes watching him while she showers, putting on a bit of a show. Vixen also likes watching Namjoon masturbate, though she prefers putting her hands on him. And Namjoon prefers her hands to his own, especially since she’s so fucking good at that.

Kink: We all know these two are the resident DDLG freaks. Other than that Namjoon suffers from a pretty severe case of voyeurism. On the side, all giving, we have oral fixation, impact play, marking, biting, cumplay and cumeating, and a very mild, very experimental foot fetish. He’s also into roleplay, especially regarding school/university environments. To that, we need to add on Vixen’s end exhibitionism and food play, and then, all giving, choking kink, exhibitionism, bondage and gags, erotic massage.

Location: these two need someplace private, since they can’t get in the mood unless they’re 200% sure they can take their time and relax and be as loud as possible. Namjoon would never stand the idea of them getting caught: he needs to protect Vixen. And Vixen would never try something in public. She knows he’d be too focused on the possible dangers to properly enjoy the experience. That doesn’t mean that they don’t tease each other in public. Vixen likes when they talk dirty in public so once they get home Namjoon rips her clothes off her.

Motivation: Namjoon gets turned on whenever Vixen looks incredibly refined and elegant, completely out of his league. Pair that up with someone flirting with her and he goes out of his way to remind her why she got his ring on her finger ten months after they first met. He also gets hot under the collar when he’s reminded of how fucking smart she is; that makes him both proud and horny. On a baser level, she just needs to grind against his thigh, rub her ass on his crotch, kiss his neck or suck his fingers to make him instantly hard. Vixen gets horny very easily when she sees him exercise power — which happens pretty often with him being the leader. Also watching him tower over someone who isn’t her makes her a little volatile — that’s her daddy, he’s her protector.

No: easy. Sharing. Even simply her moans being overheard by someone would make him nervous. Once he used to share everything about his sex life with his friends, but after he and Vixen got engaged, everything involving her without clothes on became a 100% restricted topic. He still happens to talk about sex with his friends, but he must be in need of desperate help in order to share details. Vixen agrees on sharing being a hard no. She also thinks doing stuff in public is absolutely a hard no: she’s far too attached to her job to risk a scandal ruining it. And of course she would never stand Namjoon’s career and reputation going downhill.

Oral: Both fans, Namjoon both on the giving and receiving side, though he prefers giving by far. Vixen is also a fan of receiving. If Namjoon weren’t so damn intimidating, she would enjoy giving more, too.

Pace: depends on the mood. Playful or angry? Then he’s fucking her like she’s nothing but a cocksleeve, straight up jackhammering his way in. Loving and emotional? Then they’re going slow and steady so they can feel every inch of their flesh meeting and parting and squeezing and squelching and sliding.

Quickie: yes, but not excessively. Vixen can only consider a quickie as a form of foreplay. There’s no way to satisfy her unless at least two rounds are involved. Namjoon is more than happy to take his time with her. If they don’t have that much time, they prefer masturbating together — quick, efficient, delectable.

Risk: No? The only risk he would take would be fucking her out in the open, but someplace where the possibility of getting caught is lower than 0.1%. He’d book super secluded villas for their holidays and fuck her until she’s begging him to give her a break.

Stamina: Namjoon hasn’t got too much stamina and Vixen doesn’t either, they just deprive and tease each other when they want to make it super special, otherwise they would be lazy and take naps in between a round and another. And they can truly deal with that brilliantly since they are great at foreplay and that makes up for their rather weak stamina.

Toy: These two are shameless about their toys. Vixen has a thing for dildos, and Namjoon loves spoiling her with those. She has a couple vibrators too, but she’s not that much of a fan: she has a practical one, when she needs things done quick and easy and another one that looked way too cute for her not to have it. In addition to that, they have manacles, a cockring, a paddle and a quite interesting plug.

Unfair: Being with Namjoon is all about the pleasure. He’d much rather overstimulate Vixen rather than deny her. Also because he has very poor control over his instincts and he can’t deny himself. He would tease, edge or deny Vixen only to punish her and make sure that she actually reads that as a punishment and not as some sick way for her to get exactly what she wants (aka spanks). Vixen is more on the teasing side, and she enjoys controlling Namjoon’s orgasms, but she’s very fair. They like to play dirty, but they make sure everyone gets what they need.

Volume: Namjoon is all about low and deep. His moans, groans, growls and grunts all come in a very quiet, although very eloquent way. He prefers keeping it quiet so it feels more intimate. Vixen on the other hand is very vocal, especially when Namjoon goes down on her or is trying to overstimulate her. She’s still considerate about the people living next door, but at the same time, she has a thing for doing it in the studio so she can be as loud as she wants, much to Namjoon’s — and his private tracks’ — chagrin.

Wild card: if it weren’t for his jealousy and his position, Namjoon would love to fuck Vixen in a room full of strangers, just to show how good he can make her feel, and to enjoy just how deranged she would get once adrenaline started kicking in. Claiming her in a semi-public context would help him sate his possessiveness for a good while. Vixen instead would love to go to a BDSM club with Namjoon and watch scenes from other people — maybe, potentially, join? — she most definitely wishes she had done stuff with a girl before getting with Namjoon.

X-Ray: Namjoon is packed. Length is not exceedingly more than average. But match that with more than impressive girth? That’s a wild ride. It most definitely takes a stretch. Vixen has rather small boobs — but she’s more than stubborn to make up with a full, round bubble butt.

Yearning: at the beginning they go pretty wild. Vixen is used to getting at least an orgasm before falling asleep — every night. Of course that tones down once she gets with Namjoon, especially since she learns to prefer quality over quantity and he refuses to get stuff done in ten minutes. She easily slips into a two to three times a week regimen, but deprive her for longer than ten days and she’ll feel neglected. Of course she’d take care of herself, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t start drifting away as she’d feel emotionally neglected too. Namjoon considers himself happy as long as he can have a full weekend of fucking: he tends to cram all the sex in days where he can relax since during the week he’s often too tense to initiate anything sexual. But he wouldn’t deny it if the fancy struck him.

Zzz: He falls asleep like a bear. He goes positively lethargic the moment he hits the bed after cleaning up. Vixen finds it extremely endearing. She usually takes longer, but not too much. She likes cuddling him while he’s sleeping.

[1-800-sope]

Alphabet boy (m) Part 2.

Pairing: Namjoon X reader

Rating: M

Genre: Tiny bit of yandere lots of angst

Warnings: Aggressive Namjoon, Manipulative Namjoon, Toxic relationship, some tiny slight abuse. !Namjoon is a jerk!

Summary: He was good at  everything and wasn’t afraid to remind you of it again.

BTS Masterlist

BTS Melaine Martinez series

Part 1.

it was a new year, new times with new beginnings. to say you were excited for college would be an understatement. you successfully got into the best university out there, but you didn’t get into it alone Namjoon was by your side through the begging and to now.

“Hey, honey.” Namjoon pulled the seat next to you out, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Hi.” You whispered back eyes lighting up at the sight of your boyfriend.

Namjoon smiled at you before pulling out his textbooks.

Honestly, a part of you still couldn’t believe that you were dating Namjoon The Kim Namjoon, your arch nemeses, your childhood best friend/enemy. Nobody would have seen this coming.

But Namjoon did, he was so confident that you would say yes when he asked you out on a date and he had every right to be because you said yes, after mentally freaking out for a good two weeks.

But Jin’s wise words led you to your final decision “You know what they say about hate relationships, it turns into passionate love. Go get that man sis.”  and now here you are seven months strong with Kim Namjoon.

The benefits of being his girlfriend were much better than being his enemy. He is a sweetheart to you, so kind that you thought he was mentally sick and almost backed out of the relationship. He also spoils you so much, whatever you want? he gets it for you, oh so your cold and lonely at night? He’s up and on his way to cuddle you, somebody said something not so nice about your outfit? On his way to get them kicked out of the school.

You're Namjoon’s most prized possession, You're his little doll and he will do anything and everything to keep you happy.

but half of you should have known that the past is still there.. that his old ways are still there, his need to remind you that he’s better, smarter, perfect, was still there lying beneath the surface just waiting to show up again.

and sadly it did.

”You know y/n I thought you left your idiotic childish ways back in high school, don’t you think it’s time to grow the fuck up now?” His words hit you like a truck making you stop in your tracks.

today wasn’t a good day, it was a bad day, a very very very bad day for you, and all you wanted all you needed was your loving boyfriend to be with you. he didn’t have to hold you, or stick to you like glue, just being in the same room would be enough for you but that was too much for him.

“Namjoon I just want to spend time with you...why are you being like this?” You were honestly confused everything was fine this morning it was all soft and pretty, you guys went on your every morning coffee date at the cafe before school started, then you walked to school while holding hands kissing each other goodbye when classes started. later you two met up for your library date during break.

has the honeymoon faves ended?

“Because you are so annoying and pathetic and you want attention twenty-four seven y/n!” Namjoon was annoyed he was frustrated about something and he snapped when you walked in the room after he purposely denied all of your calls, he thought you would take the hint and leave him alone for a bit, but you didn’t so now he’s doing the only thing he can do. he’s letting all his anger and frustration out on you.

Namjoon stared at you as your face started to heat up and the tears came to the surface, you thought he would realize what he said was wrong what he was doing was wrong but no he shot more bullets.

“You honestly can’t function without me isn’t that right doll?” He smirked walking towards you as you took a step back avoiding eye contact.

“It’s okay doll, It’s okay that you can’t do anything without me, that you depend on me, that without me you would be absolutely nothing. But right now since I’m being nice let me help you make a wise decision, a very smart one and you being my good girl will listen. alright?”

He brought his hand out patting your head ignoring your flinch.

“Right now you are going to turn back around, leave this room and leave me the fuck alone.” Namjoon grabbed the back of your head yanking your hair making you look up at him in his eyes.

you cried.

This wasn’t your Namjoon, this wasn’t your sweet boyfriend.

this was the monster you hated.

“Well? What are you waiting for? go.” he pushed you forward towards the door making you lose your step but you caught yourself and without looking back you left letting the door slam right behind you.

“Apples aren't an always appropriate apologies”

You came back, you didn’t want to but you had to this was your home too, you were now regretting getting a shared apartment with him.

 when you arrived back home it was late, Namjoon was fast asleep on the couch he was waiting for you but fell asleep while doing it all his worrying drained him out.

but you weren’t so easy to forgive someone you never were and Namjoon knew that

that’s why he’s currently crying in front of the guest room door, the room you haven’t left ever since your return.

“Baby, I’m so so so sorry.” Namjoon choked on his tears his hand touching the door an apple in the other.

“I know you are upset with me and you have every right to be, you do. Shit even I’m upset with myself. What I said was wrong what I did was wrong and my anger was no excuse to act that way towards you.”

During his little speech, you shed some tears with the memories of yesterday rushing back to you.

“You are angry with me and that’s okay but please accept this apple. You have to eat y/n.”

-

“Butterscotch and bubblegum drops are bittersweet to me”

It’s been three days, three days and you still haven’t accepted Namjoon’s apology but you did go back to your shared room and went back to having breakfast lunch, and diner with him, even though you didn’t let him touch you and you only responded with humms and the nod of your head it was still progress

“Here, drink this.” Namjoon handed you the coffee cup. you two were at your lovely cafe on a Monday morning right before classes. You gave a smile as you grabbed your cub and started making your way out of the cafe and towards the school’s building that was down the street.

As Namjoon talked about one of his classes that he was in you took a sip of your coffee

Butterscotch

“And I said that he can’t put those two together because they wouldn’t contrast.” Namjoon chuckled as he grabbed your hand swinging it back and forth a smile on his face looking over at you. “You okay doll?” He asked smile slowly fading. You quickly shook your head a fake smile on your face to ease his worry

you honestly didn’t have time for an upset Namjoon on your hands

you were just so tired.

his smile recovered and he kissed your cheek “good.”

“Well, we are here now, our library date at our usual table at three pm?” Namjoon asked and you nodded. “Good. oh and I picked up some chapstick for you, I know how much you love the cute little flavored ones.”

Namjoon digging in his pocket pulling out a chapstick and it made you forget about the Butterscotch coffee as he placed it in your hand. “Thank you Namjoon.” You smiled not looking down at the Chapstick but up at him.

“No problem, get inside class is about to start.”

A smile was on your face as you walked inside finally taking a look at the chapstick in your hands

you halted in your steps and your smile dropped

Bubblegum.

-

“You call me a child while you keep counting all your coins”

“Honestly y/n can you just STOP!” Namjoon snapped cutting you off mid-question. 

“Stop? stop what Namjoon? What am I doing?” You were so confused his mood did a whole 360 shocking you.

“You are being annoying.” he spoke rubbing his hand on his face expressing his tiredness looking at you with annoyed eyes.

“Annoying? how am I being annoying?” You stood there in front of him holding eye contact with your arms crossed.

Namjoon looked at you like you were stupid

“Really? we’re gonna play that game now are we? The “Let’s ask stupid questions” game?” You took a step back thinking about how this all took a turn for the worse.

You were just sitting in the living room reading your book as Namjoon came out of the bathroom dressed up nicely ready to leave. you asked him where he was going...he ignored you so you asked again and again and again

until he snapped.

“I was no-” He cut you off.

“Yes you were y/n you were being annoying!”

“I was asking a simple question maybe if you didn’t ignore me-”

“God! Why does it matter where I am going huh! Why is it any of your business y/n!”

“Because I’m your fucking girlfriend Kim Namjoon!”

The room went silent

Namjoon laughed

he laughed

“No honey, you are not my girlfriend you are a child because that’s what you are acting like right now.” He said amused with this whole situation while you were now the annoyed one

“I am NOT a child Namjoon!” You cried at your breaking point. It was pathetic really how easily you cried. But you couldn’t help it.

Namjoon stopped he took a deep breath in as he saw your tears. He walked over to you gently placing both of his hands on either side of your face wiping your tears.

“Are you sure about that y/n? because you are crying like one right now.” He chuckled and you were shocked into silence. “Ok, how about this y/n I’m gonna go and you stay home and be a good doll for me? Let’s end this stupid useless conversation.”

“no.”

“No?” Namjoon repeated raising his eyebrow.

You took a step back shaking your head as Namjoon dropped his hands to his side annoyed that you won’t let this end.

“No namjoon I don’t have to listen to anything you say, I am my own person I am not dumb, I am not stupid, And if i don’t want to let shit slide and get over it I won’t.” 

“Grate amazing you are finally speaking up for yourself do that at a different time.” He rolled his eyes making you more annoyed more fed up. “Namjoon it seems like you don’t care about my feelings like you never ever cared at all.” You threw your hands up moving away from him now he was the one that was following you around.

“What do you mean I never cared? That’s all I ever did through this whole relationship, I cared for, I looked after you, I helped you. You are just too much of a stupid spoiled brat see that shit.”

“Shut up Namjoon, god can you stop playing the victim card for once.” You snapped back turning on your heels.

“Your seriously acting up after everything i did for you everything I’ve been doing for you? Things your own daddy wouldn’t do for you?”

“But you're not my daddy and I'm not your dolly, I don’t have to listen shit you say anymore and I don’t need you.”

it was silent

dead silent

besides your heavy breathing along with Namjoons

“oh...is that so?” he asked glaring at you.

“Yes...it is so.” You responded back with the same energy.

“Than I guess you should leave?” He crossed his arms staring at you.

“I guess I will.” You chuckled looking away from him.

and that’s how it ended, the passionate love you both had for each other turned back into hate, more hate there than there was before.

Tag List: @minshookie29 @casualminiaturetimemachine @angryperfectionpersona @jinssexytoe @omgsuperstarg @mwitsmejk @earthtoness

A/n: I know that this was so quick to publish but i got so excited with how good part one turned out to be so I couldn’t help myself to write up part two and quickly publish it. I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED ITTT!!! new readers let me know if you want to be apart of the Melaine Martinez tag list series