#like you're an adult man. it's been two weeks. actually fuck off

[rustystars]

crying at school is so embarrassing what the fuck is teachers problem with direct communication

[gyupinkys]

POUT SOME MORE

Choi Seuncheol x fem reader

Seungcheol is not a nice man. How could he be? To run a mafia you need to be ruthless and you are no exception to that behavior. No matter how many times he fucks you and tells you he owns you, he will never mean it. Thats until he see's you being a little to friendly with Shownu.

part 2

WC: 3.6K

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, degradation, humiliation, exhibitionism, chocking, impact play, spanking, ruined orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, possessiveness, arranged marriage, knife play if you squint, basically cheol being petty and fucking you in front his friends.

There's nothing in this world you didn’t have. You grew up spoiled out of your mind. Anything you ask for daddy would run and buy. He treasured his one and only daughter, making sure she knew how much he loved her. Despite being the leader of the largest mafia in the continent he never once ignored your needs or neglected you. Your father was always there for you and would do anything for you, you loved him endlessly. But there was one thing he couldn’t give you and that was Choi Seungcheol. 

Now, you pride yourself in being a strong woman. So there's no way in hell you would ever long after a man. What do you look like being caught up, sad, and upset over a… man? Just the thought makes you shudder. You didn’t love Seungcheol, not by any means. Sure, you loved the orgasms and the way he filled you up perfectly, but you didn’t love him. He’s far from your type, he’s a womanizer whereas you love pathetic men who do anything you say. You want the treatment you received growing up to carry on into your adult life and Seungcheol is not the man to give you that. But just the thought of not having him grovel over you… beg to be in your presence irks you… 

You’re the full package so why doesn’t he want you? You try not to be too caught up on this, busying yourself with your other boy toys, but it’s always eating away at you. Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he think you’re undeserving of him? He’ll fuck you, but not want to date you? Now you’re getting worked up. This is why you cut him off, it’s not worth the stress; it’s been four months without him and you’re (going crazy) fine. You take a sip of your bloody mary and sigh. Looking around you see the man himself enter the club with his stupid posse… god, you despised him. You ignore him, “don’t let men get the best of you.” you whisper to yourself.

“Why is my dumpling so worked up?”

You immediately know who it is and smile. You love this guy.

“Hi, Shownu.” you say smiling up at him. He’s so fucking fine. You haven’t seen him in a few weeks, he just returned from overseas business.

“Are you here alone?” he ask, wrapping his hands around your waist. 

“No, Yuqi is around here somewhere.”

“Why is she always leaving you?” 

“Maybe so a tall, handsome grandpa could come and flirt with me.”

He clutches his chest. “I’m not old,” he says pouting.

“Don’t worry, you know I love an older man, and who else do I get to call daddy?” you smirk.

He groans, clutching your waist harder. “If you keep talking like this I’m gonna drag you out of here.”

You giggle.

On the other side of the club Seungcheol is fuming. His “I don’t care about you” act is backfiring. He has no claim over you and it’s his fault. He needs to maintain his big bad mafia boss act but he so badly wants to start pouting. Jeonghan senses it and nudges him. 

“Dude get it together.”

“But do you see her?” he whines. “She’s practically eye fucking him.” 

“You’re literally whining! People are gonna start looking.”

“Jeonghan you don’t get it! I literally fucked her brains out and then she cut me off!  And look at her she doesn’t even care.” he says as the whining increases. He’s two seconds away from actually stomping his foot.

“I don’t know how people buy this “alpha” act, you're actually just a little bitch.” Jeonghan says and rolls his eyes.

Seungcheol dramatically gasps. “Why would you say that to me?” 

“Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“And say what?”

“Cheol. I can’t tell you how to live your life. What will you do when I die?”

“I’ll just die with you.” he says seriously.

Jeonghan just groans and pushes Cheol towards you. 

“Keep it cool, keep it cool, keep it cool” he whispers to himself as he walks over to you.

He slides in the empty space behind you and orders a bourbon at the bar. You and Shownu turn to look at him. 

“Y/N. Shownu” he nods at both of you. 

“Hello, Seungcheol” you say with a small smile and Shownu just nods in return. You can sense an ego off about to happen and quickly make your exit. 

“Shownu, I’ll text you.” you say and get up only for Cheol to grab your shoulder. 

“And what about me?”

“What about you, Cheol?”

He doesn’t want to sound pathetic and beg. 

“You suck my dick  and say I’m yours and suddenly you’re acting like you don’t want to see me?” Nice one Seungcheol, way to fuck it up.

You raise your eyebrows at him and scoff. “Shownu will get a text because I don’t have to fake orgasms with him. He actually makes me cum.” you say with an innocent smile making Cheol scoff. 

You pat Shownu on the shoulder and walk off.

“Nice one man, maybe if you try respecting her she’ll fuck you.”

“I don’t need advice from you.” 

“You sure? 'Cause I'm the one who's gonna be deep in that pussy tonight” Shownu shrugs, walking away leaving Cheol pouting at the bar. 

“Dude, that was really bad.” Joshua says sliding next to him, making Cheol glare at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t end up texting Shownu. You heard about his arranged marriage thats being planned through the grapevine and one thing you don’t do is fuck married men. You stuck to your trusty vibrator to get you through the night. As you’re about to get out of bed you get a phone call from Yuqi. You know she’s gonna be recounting her entire experience last night in full detail. With a sigh you answer.

“Y/N. What did you do to Seungcheol last night?”

“Nothing?”

“When you left the bar he started pouting and whining to that friend of his; The American one. Look, I even caught it on camera.”

You rush to open your messages to see a video of Cheol sitting at the bar with a huge pout on his face. You can’t hear what they’re saying but his friend is just sitting there laughing. You start to laugh too, he looks so pathetic. 

“I’m gonna call him. I’ll call you back.”

“Tell me what he says!”

You scroll through your contacts until you find his phone number. You never bothered to give him a contact, he’s just a quick fuck after all (no he’s not). You call him and after a few rings he answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Chollie.”

“Finally decided you want me?”

“I don’t know about all that. But, I think someone wants me more than they’re letting on.”

“Who?”

“I heard this guy was practically crying over the fact I turned him down. He was pouting and whining like a baby.”

“Oh, I didn’t hear anything about that.”

“Oh, I bet Cheollie.”

“Y/n. Did you just call me to try to make fun of me?”

“Me? Make fun of you? I would never. I’m just shocked that more people don’t know the “scary big bad alpha leader” is secretly a little bitch.”

“Y/N, the next time I see you, you’re really in for it.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine and you’ll leave crying.”

“We shall see, Bunny.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time you saw him you were indeed not in for it. You attended a Gala with your father which, to you, ensured Cheol would do nothing out of line. To say he was scared of your father was an understatement. To be fair everyone is scared of your father, except you. After tagging along with your dad to meet “potential husbands” you tell him you’ve had enough and would rather be shot than get married to which he rolls his eyes.

“Dad, Have you seen Choi SeungCheol?”

“Why? Do you have a crush on him? He’s a very dedicated young man I approve.”

You roll your eyes. “More like he has a crush on me.”

“Good to know. He’s probably upstairs.”

“Thanks. Text me when you’re ready to go.”

You head upstairs trying to not look like you’re searching for him. There's no sign of him or any of his rat friends which is weird. You walk to the bar trying to be mysterious but probably just looking lost and confused.

“Y/N, You look lovely.”

You turn around to see Yuta leaning against a pillar looking as dashing as ever.

“Hi, Yuta.” you say walking up to him and giving him a genuine smile.

“Are you looking for someone?”

“Seungcheol”

“Well from the stare I feel boring into my head I can assume he’s behind me.”

You giggle, a little over exaggerated if you're honest but you just want to piss Cheol off if he’s actually behind him.You’re too nervous to look behind Yuta so you keep your eyes on him.

“He’s so dramatic.”

“Are you two dating?”

“Yuta. Look at who you're talking to. I don’t date.”

“You’re right, my bad. But why are you trying to make him jealous?”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“You can’t fool me Y/N.” he says and pulls you into his chest.

“Might as well make your lies good.” he smirks and places a kiss on your jaw making you smile.

“Thanks.” you say as you peek over Yuta’s shoulder and see Cheol get up and walk away with Jeonghan at his side.

“My work here is done” Yuta says and winks as he walks away leaving you to your own accord on the bar. 

About an hour later you receive a text from your dad telling you to meet him downstairs. To your utter shock, standing at the door is your father, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan; laughing and chatting like they’ve been friends for years. What the fuck? You rush down the stairs as they wrap up their conversation. 

“Dad?”

“Oh, Y/N, let's go, I have some paperwork to draft.” he says, winking at Cheol.

Did they make a deal or something? Jeonghan is just smiling mischievously at you, making you more concerned. 

“I’ll be seeing you real soon, Y/N” Cheol says with a smirk as he leaves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fiancé?” You feel like fainting. You feel like killing someone, anyone, you feel like killing Seungcheol.

“What do you mean we're getting married?” you say feeling your temper rise. So this is what they were talking about at the gala? A fucking arranged marriage? God, you feel like crying. 

You look at your dad with tears in your eyes. “Dad?”

He sighs. “Y/N, You know I love you, but you need to settle down. And Cheol said you two have been dating for months. Am I so wrong to want to see my daughter marry the man she loves?” 

“What are you talking about?” you spit enraged. “I don’t even like Cheol. He’s so fucking annoying and I don’t want to settle down! Especially with him.”

Cheol walks up to you with a smooth smile. “Baby, Don’t be like that. It really hurts when you act like you don’t want me.”

You feel like killing him. Matter of fact, you will kill him. You run over to the living room center table and take out one of the many guns stashed there. Your dad quickly grabs you, probably anticipating your actions. 

“Dad I don’t want to marry him” you say as you start to cry, throwing yourself on the floor.

“Y/N. I’ve spoiled you for too long. It’s time for you to face the real world.” your dad says as he pats your shoulder. “Cheol, I’ll see you around. Take Y/N to your house, let her see her new home.”

You feel like your world is falling apart. You did wish for this, but now that you have it, it doesn't taste as sweet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You glare at Cheol from across the dining room table. He looks so fucking smug as he eats with his 12 fucking gremlins. God, You want to fucking break something. Why does he get to do this to you? He’s taking it too fucking far. You’re being forced to “meet his friends” like you give a fuck about any of them, but come to think of it, maybe you could use them to your advantage. 

You turn to the man on your left who has barely spoken a word to anyone but Jeonghan this entire time. “Joshua, Right?”

“That's me,” he says with a sweet smile. You see straight through him though, he’s probably awful. 

“Maybe if I met you first I wouldn’t be here. You are much cuter than Cheol.” you pout. His smile just widens and he shakes his head. “It’s a little too late unfortunately, maybe in another life.”

“I don’t see why not in this life.” you say as you run your finger across his hand resting on the table.

He looks at your hand and back at you. “Do you want him to murder me?”

“I’d rather he murder me at this point.” you sigh.

“Y/N.” Cheol growls out making you sigh more dramatically. 

“Yes, Cheollie?” you say sarcastically as ever.

“Why are you flirting with Joshua?”

“I was just wondering if he could actually make me cum. I’d love to have one last orgasm before I marry you and be bound to a life of awful sex.”

The room becomes eerily silent. You doubt anyone is even breathing. Joshua is looking like he wants to murder you but you're having the time of your life.

“Come here.” 

Your eyes widen at his tone. Woah. He’s not fucking around anymore. You get your ass up and walk around the table feeling all eyes on you. As you round the edge you gulp. 

“Take a seat.” 

You need to take a deep breath. You feel like all the air in the room is being sucked out. You sit in his lap and look in his eyes. 

“Any other request, Daddy?” you say with a smirk.

Making someone behind you choke on his drink and another clear his throat. 

Cheol’s hand flys to your throat and pulls your face towards him, forcing the little air in it out. “Don’t fucking play with me.” he spits into your ear.

“And what are you gonna do about it? Not make me cum?” you smile as his hand tightens. You can tell he’s embarrassed, not only are you embarrassing him but you're embarrassing him in front of his friends.

“Y/N. If I do remember correctly, the last time we fucked, you were crying and begging me to stop, clearly your the one who can’t handle some good dick. Two orgasms and you tap out?”

“I’ve always been told I’m a great actor.”

“Well let me refresh your memory.”

He pushes everything in front of him off the table and lays you flat on your back.

“Y/N, I try so hard. I try to be kind, to be sweet, to be the man you would want.” he says as he takes his steak knife and cuts through your top. “But it seems that's not the man you deserve. You deserve someone who will treat you like the fucking bitch you are, you just want someone to fuck you like a whore huh? You go around giving this pussy up to everyone, about time I make it mine.” 

You try to defend yourself but his hand on your throat only tightens. “Josh, Hold her hands down for me won’t you?”

Cheol looks down at you. “Since this is a community pussy, I’m sure you won’t mind if I use some help.” he smiles down at you. 

He pulls your pants off your body leaving you in just your bra and panties.

“My beautiful, Fiancé”

“Cheol Stop.” you say as you push your hips into him. You don’t even know what you want. You want to get up and stab him but you want to feel him stretch you open as his friends look. Actually you just want to piss him off. 

“Stop? I don’t think I want to.” 

“Joshua, take a good look. This is what you’re gonna get next.” you say smiling at Joshua.

One second you're smirking at Joshua and the next your cheek is on fire. Did this motherfucker just slap you? 

“Don’t look so shocked baby. You don't remember being on your knees, begging me to slap that pretty face?”

Your cheeks heat up. God, he’s humiliating you. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

He begins to harshly rub your clit over your panties, just the way you like it.. “I don’t think you want me to stop anyways. This pussy is dripping for me.”

“Are you sure it's dripping for you?”

He just chuckles. “You’re not gonna be able to fucking move tommorrow.”

 He pulls your panties off and throws them to the center of the table. “A treat for one of you.” He plays with your clit some more, pinching it and rolling it making you get closer and closer to the edge.

“I would stretch you out, but I doubt I need to. I’m sure sluts like you keep themselves nice and stretched.” You don’t even know when he unzipped his pants, let alone pulled out his dick. He rubs his tip through your folds making your eyes roll back. Youre already so fucking overstimulated, all the eyes on you, his degrading words, and the fact that you haven’t fucked anyone in weeks is killing you. 

“Beg.” he says looking into your eyes.

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” he says and tucks himself back into his pants. “And none of them are going to fuck you.”

Your eyes widen at this. Fuck. What do you want more? Your pride or dick? Ugh, and he already has you so close to an orgasm.

“Please.” you whisper.

“Did you say something?”

“Please.” you say a little louder.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“Louder”

“Please fuck me Cheol!”

“Louder” he smirks, making you groan. 

“Please fuck me Cheol, I need it so fucking bad.” you frustratedly yell out

“There we go.” he says and he slides in bottoming out. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, immediately setting a beyond brutal pace.You have a feeling he wants it to hurt. It feels like he’s in your guts, you can barely breathe. Every thrust is sending you further up the table. You can’t even grip onto anything due to Joshua’s harsh grip.

“God.” you moan out.

“Don’t call for God, he can’t help you.” he grunts as he somehow fucks you harder causing the skin on your thighs to begin to sting. “Cheol, Please.”

“Please what, Baby?”

“Please let me cum.”

“Oh, Now I can make you cum? What happened to all that talk from before?”

“Cheol, I need it so bad.”

“I don’t care. Don’t cum.”

You hate this motherfucker. Tears begin to flow from your eyes from frustration and pleasure. “Cheol Please.”

“No.”

You were never one to listen anyways. You let go and cum all over him making him stop thrusting. “You’re real bold, baby.”

A harsh slap lands directly on your clit making your back arch. He hits you again and again, ruining your post orgasm bliss. “You know what? You want to cum? Then cum.” He begins thrusting again, rubbing your clit in the way he knows you like. Moments like this you wish he didn’t know your body like the back of his hand. He thrusts straight into your g-spot making you moan loudly, coming out more as a scream. “Feel good, baby?” he smirks as you begin to cry more. 

“It feels so good.” you moan.

“Cum for me.” 

After a few more thrust you cum turning your face and looking straight into Jeonghan’s eyes. You can’t believe he’s letting all his friends watch this. Just the thought makes you cum even harder, to the point where you start squirting over his chest, making his white button down turn clear.

“Oh look at you, baby. Squirting all over me.”

How is this man still going? You feel like you’re going to pass out and you know you’re not close to done. 

“Cheol I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t take it anymore.” you breathe out. 

He just laughs at you. “I don’t care.” he says looking you dead in the eye.

He keeps up his brutal pace making you groan. “Cheol please.”

“Shut the fuck up and take it.”

You start squirming and trying to break out of Joshua’s hold.

“Don’t run, baby. Take what I give you.”

Fuck. That was hot. You clench on him, making him groan. “You like that? You like having to sit here and take it? Not having a choice but to be my personal sex toy?”

This is why you wanted him so bad. He knows how to fuck you, he knows what to say, he knows how to treat you, break you, put you in your place.

“Cheol, I’m cumming.”

He pulls out right before you tip over. Cumming over your stomach and chest. Joshua lets go of your hands and you shoot up with wide eyes. “What the fuck?”

He pulls you in for a kiss and whispers against your lips. “Next time you want to be a brat, remember this feeling.” He winks and tucks himself into his slacks. 

“I’ll see you baby, I have work to do.”

With that everyone gets up and leaves, trying to hide their hard ons and pretend they aren’t phased. When you look around for your panties you see theyre gone. You look at the guys and see your pretty pink panties sticking out of Joshua's pocket.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

X Marks the Spot - K.SY

🏴‍☠️Who; Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader 🏴‍☠️What; Humour. Bestfriends to lovers. I guess some tiny fluff? Adult themes. 🏴‍☠️Wordcount; 5.8k 🏴‍☠️Warnings; Profanity. Party typical alcohol mentions but neither SY nor reader are drinking. Kind of jealous/possessive Soonyoung. Making out in public places. The whole point of this story is Soonyoung in a costume marketed for women, so if that's not your vibe then this story is not for you, friend.

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; You stupidly left the job of buying your costumes for the party down to Soonyoung, and now you're paying for it and have to spend the night watching him dancing in those little shorts initially intended for you.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this is all because I can't get the thought of Soonyoung in the pirate outfit from my "Sexy costumes for Seventeen to wear" post out of my head. made myself feral with that one.

Completely out of the blue last week, Seungkwan decided to send a message in the group chat that he's throwing a costume party. No reason for it, nothing had happened to warrant a party, he had simply decided he wanted to do it and demanded the entire group be there and in costume.

Soonyoung had, unsurprisingly, already been by your side on our couch watching the latest episode of the drama you two were obsessed with, when the message came through. After the episode you both looked at your phones and Soonyoung immediately started to look for costume ideas excitedly. He soon found and fell in love with a pirate outfit and after showing you it, he said it's part of a couple costume and as besties, you have to match because 'that's what besties do'. In the year you have known Soonyoung, you have never truly said no to him and this was no different.

Though perhaps you should've at least looked at the female half of the matching costume before agreeing instead of blindly trusting your best friend.

Which leads us to here. It's an hour before the party is due to start and Soonyoung has just turned up at your apartment to get ready together just like always. He has the parcel of costumes in his arms and a bright excited grin on his face when he hands it over to you to allow him to remove his shoes.

"I haven't opened it yet," He informs, watching you walk over to the couch to lean the parcel against the arm and open it like you knew he wanted you to. Soonyoung knows you get an odd sense of joy from opening parcels whether or not they're for you so he often brings his orders over or invites you to his apartment to allow you to open them for him.

"So I see," You muse with a little giggle.

Soonyoung appears at your back a moment later, leaning his chin on your shoulder to peer into the bag as you open it. The first costume out is his, packaged in another bag though this is clear revealing the cardboard insert with a picture of a man in the costume on the front. He takes it happily when you offer it and bounces aside to start to open it excitedly.

There's only one more item in the bag, your costume so you take it out, excited about your matching pirate outfits too. Up until you turn the packet over to look at the picture and realise that this truly is not what you expected, especially not from your best friend.

"What the actual fuck, Kwon Soonyoung?!" You demand flabbergasted.

"Uh-oh, the full name," Soonyoung looks up at you in alarm, all sign of joy gone. "Did they send the wrong thing?"

"I hope so because if you saw this on the site and still ordered it, you and I are going to have some issues." You turn the packet to show him the picture on the cardboard insert. A picture of a woman in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts, if they could even be considered that with fishnet tights underneath. There's an attempt at a white top that honestly could be a lot worse, it's off the shoulder and cropped but it's honestly not as bad as it could be for a female-focused costume, but still far too revealing for your liking. To finish it off, she's wearing a striped bandana on her head with a plastic sword in her hands and you're very certain that the sword alone is the only reason the packet is that big because there's certainly not enough material creating the costume to require such a size bag.

Soonyoung stares at the picture for a second then looks up at you with a confused little pout. "It's a pirate outfit."

"Show me yours," You demand with a sigh. He doesn't hesitate to move over and hand you his costume, still in the packet just about.

There's a clear difference in costumes. The picture on his packet depicts a man in three-quarter length vertically striped trousers and a simple white shirt with an open neckline revealing a thin triangular strip of skin down to his sternum, finished with the same bandana as your costume and a plastic sword. Though, of course, the man's sword is bigger than the woman's sword. Of course, the men get the big boy sword and the women get the toothpick.

"You seriously don't see a problem with this?" You ask, holding the two packets up side by side so that he can see the photos together. Poor, naive Soonyoung looks between the pictures rapidly in a desperate attempt to understand. Yet he winds up just shaking his head as he looks at you with such an innocent expression that you know that he seriously doesn't understand the problem here at all. "Then you can wear this one." You declare, handing him the woman's outfit before turning to stalk off to your bedroom.

"What?!" He sputters, scrambling to follow you down the short corridor. "This is for women!"

"You've said before, clothes have no gender!" You remind, turning at the threshold with a hand on your open door ready to close it and a sweet smile on your face. "If you want to match with me, Soonyoungie, you wear that and I'll wear this."

He stares between you and the packet in his hand for a moment before agreeing with a nod and a simple "okay".

And that right there, is your second mistake.

When you had told Soonyoung to wear that outfit, you really had not been prepared for how fucking good he'd look in the skimpy little outfit. So now you have to spend the next hours at Seungkwan's bustling apartment pretending that your gaze isn't constantly locating Soonyoung in the dim lighting as he happily dances amongst other costumed bodies.

Sure, you've seen Soonyoung topless before so you know the man has a frankly incredible body usually hidden under the baggy clothes he usually prefers to wear, but the sexy little pirate outfit highlights his strong torso and biceps so well. The cropped top stops at his sternum giving full view of the top half of his defined abs, the bottom half hidden by the high waist of the shorts. And those shorts? They really do not leave a lot to the imagination at all so Soonyoung has spent the entire night so far carefully doing his best to keep the sword strapped around his hips dangling in front of his crotch. You had obligingly given him the bigger sword when you had realised that the 'woman's' sword wasn't exactly wide enough to cover him. Neither of you had made eye contact when you had handed it over without a word because you both knew what it meant and the fact you had obviously seen the bulge of his flaccid dick in the tight shorts.

Which honestly, had only made you wonder how big he was hard, and that was a thought that you usually try to avoid; thinking of your best friend in a sexual situation. Though his pure existence alone makes it very hard.

Kwon Soonyoung doesn't realise how attractive he is and you're kind of grateful about it. Because if that unfairly effortlessly attractive man knows how hot he is, then you know he'll be cocky and dress to show off more often than just for nights out or special occasions, and you would not mentally survive that.

As it is, you're not sure you'll survive the night.

"One day, you two are going to stop being stupid and just fuck it out," Chan comments from your right where he stands in his doctor's outfit; Seungkwan's wearing a matching one somewhere else in the apartment and you really can't tell if it's intentional or not with those two. They're always bickering and acting like they hate each other but they're always the first the other goes to for any reason whatsoever.

"Please make it before the end of summer so I don't lose money," Seungcheol requests from your left, leaning against the wall with you and dressed in a suit just like his own best friend and roommate, wherever she has disappeared to. She's likely with Junhui based on the way the pair have been eyeing each other for the past hour -and since they met really but that's another story entirely.

"You assholes have bets on us fucking?" You gawp in betrayed disbelief at the suited man.

"Yup," Seungcheol confirms shamelessly while Chan tries to sputter out a denial that makes you level the youngest with an unimpressed look. However, it doesn't last because you hear Soonyoung's loud voice even over the music and automatically look over to where your best friend is trying to stop Seokmin from grabbing at his sword. No euphemism even if the plastic is in the right place. "Looks like Seok's going to get further with your boy than you ever have." Seungcheol sniggers. You shove his arm making him laugh harder.

"Swordplay," Chan giggles then wanders off without another word to refill his cup after swallowing the last of its contents.

"Seriously though, you should like, go fuck him," Seungcheol speaks a moment later when Soonyoung has successfully distracted Seokmin by grabbing the younger's hands to make him dance with him. Soonyoung shoots you a world-weary, wide-eyed look that makes you snicker and wave innocently at him.

"You really don't want to lose money, huh."

"It's not even about that, just you two. This has been going on for over a year now; this gross pining shit. Just sit on his dick and ask him on a date, it's not that hard."

"You can't say shit, Cheol."

"Hey, I've fucked her, regularly," he defends with a pout before sipping at his drink.

"Oh yeah, because fucking your best friend who you've been in love with since childhood while encouraging her to go after your friend who she's been mutually eyefucking for the past three months is so much better." You retort sarcastically and give him a look. He can't refute it at all, it's entirely true and he's confided in you enough for you both to know that he's constantly making his own heartbreak worse by continuing to indulge his best friend both in bed and when she comes home and whines over how good Junhui looks.

"We're as bad as each other," he decides after a second.

"Don't lump me with you, I've never fucked him." You scoff and turn back around to naturally locate Soonyoung where he's back to smiling away as he dances with Seokmin and some others.

"You want to,"

"Yeah, I really fucking do," you exhale and swallow down the last of your drink only to frown down into the empty disposable cup. "I need a real drink."

"You know you can't drink around him like this or you will ask to suck his dick." Seungcheol reminds you of the very reason why you're always the designated driver when Soonyoung dresses up.

Because yes, you have come close to getting on your knees in the middle of a club for him. Luckily, Seungcheol had noticed and took you home before you actually acted on the urge to publicly defile your best friend. Unluckily, Seungcheol had noticed and has not failed to mention it at every chance. But at least it's stayed between the two of you.

"At this rate, I'll do it regardless," you mutter, still frowning into your empty cup. "Back in a bit." Seungcheol just grunts to show he heard before you slump off to the kitchen to refill your cup with one of the non-alcoholic beverages lining the counter.

You've barely finished filling your cup when a familiar hand reaches around you and picks it up to start gulping down. Even though you know it's Soonyoung, you still look over your right shoulder where he's chugging down the drink entirely unaware of your thirsty gaze watching the drop of liquid that escapes from the corner of his mouth trail down over his chin and jaw and down his neck to catch on his collar bone. You refrain from leaning in to slurp it up and lick your way up the trail it left all the way to Soonyoung's mouth.

Instead of staring at the way his throat bobs as he swallows down the last drops, you turn back around and wait for him to place the cup down so that you can refill it. And then he grabs it again before you can, making you groan. "Seriously?"

"M'thirsty," he defends barely pulling the cup away and accidentally dribbling some of the liquid from his mouth onto your shoulder. You look at him in disgust. He just grins sweetly and kisses your cheek in a sticky apologetic way before leaning back up to get back to his task of once again, stealing your drink.

At least this time when you've refilled the cup, he doesn't steal it away and lets you actually lift it to your own mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you drink so you side-eye him questioningly without moving the cup away.

"Are you taking Seungcheol home again?" He asks, stepping closer to you as someone passes too close behind him, his left hand falling to your hip and his right on the counter, sort of caging you in though you know it's unintentional even if you wish it wasn't.

"He can take himself home, he's not drinking tonight," you reply, distracted by the feeling of plastic pressing against you. "Your sword is digging into my ass."

Soonyoung lets go of the counter to tug his sword belt around and lays the toy on the outside of his left thigh leaving him pressed directly against you. You genuinely can't tell if he's even noticed that as he seems to be focused on the conversation judging by the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"If I know it, wouldn't I respond to what you mean?" You give him a look, puzzled by his own words and hoping he understands that you seem to very much not be having the same conversation here and you are completely unaware of the conversation he's having with you.

"Not when you're both pretending nothing's happening,"

"What?" You nudge him back enough so that you can turn and face him, which admittedly, is not your smartest move when he moves straight back in. He doesn't press against you again but his left foot is between yours as you lean your ass back against the counter. Any closer and his thigh will be very close to pressing to your crotch.

"Come on, I'm your best friend, I think you should at least be honest with me, even if you play ignorant with the others," he frowns and leans heavier onto his right hand on the counter beside your hip, bringing him in closer so that he doesn't have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music. "You two often leave together when we go out. And even though his place is closer than mine, you drop me off first so it's just you two left. I'm not stupid."

"Wait, you think that's so we can go fuck?" You realise with wide eyes.

"It's obvious, you always find each other when we're all together like this and spend the whole fucking night hiding off to the side whispering to each other,"

You can't help but laugh. "Do you all think we're fucking?" He nods. You laugh again. "Oh man, I gotta tell Cheolie this," you start to push off of the counter with every intention of going to find the man knowing he will find it as hilarious as you do, but Soonyoung puts his left hand on your lower stomach to push you back and then he pushes himself against you to pin you there. "Soonyoung,"

"No."

"What? No? No what?"

"I'm not letting you go back to him. You came with me, you're staying with me and leaving with me, no one else." He declares firmly.

You stare up at him trying to decipher what the fuck is actually going on right now, what prompted this sudden conversation and behaviour. Not that Soonyoung has never pinned you before but it's usually playfully as he whines and pouts cutely to get his way, or to just joke around. But he's entirely serious now and looking at you with something kind of dark in his eyes. Admittedly, it's pretty fucking hot. "Are you drunk?" You ask, even if you know he's not; you can't smell any alcohol on him and drunk Soonyoung gets cuddly and clingy, not whatever this is.

"You know I'm not," he places his left hand on the counter on your other side, well and truly caging you in and causing him to lean down a little closer to reach comfortably.

"Then why are you suddenly acting like this?"

"It's not sudden." You give him a look. "Okay, fine, acting on it is but wanting to, that's not sudden. I've wanted to do this for a long time,"

"Then why haven't you?"

"Because I care about you too much," he frowns a little as he takes in your features from up close, gaze catching on your lips for a few seconds before lifting back up to meet your eyes. "There's a bet you know, about us fucking?"

"I just found out." You pull a displeased expression. "Cheol's in on that, you know? He wouldn't bet on us fucking before the end of summer if he's fucking me."

"He is?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "They made it sound like he's against the bet, said he's been trying to stop them from always talking me into it,"

"Yeah, no, he just told me to fuck you. He's always telling me to fuck you."

"Oh," He licks his lips as his eyes divert thoughtfully. "Guess I should stop being a dick to him then,"

"You've been a dick to him?" You ask, genuinely surprised. You really haven't noticed Soonyoung acting badly towards Seungcheol at all.

"Mm, I always take his favourite snacks at movie night." You can't help but burst into giggling laughter at his confession.

Of course, the man doesn't have a single genuinely mean bone in his body and would think purposely taking someone's favourite snacks would be a big dick move. You bet he's been feeling kind of guilty about it while no doubt Seungcheol hasn't even noticed.

"What? Why're you laughing?" He pouts at you.

"Oh, Soonie, you're so fucking cute," you coo and cup his cheeks fondly. He smiles a little dopily at the compliment, the same smile he reserves for you and your doting attention on him even if neither of you has noticed that. The rest of your friends have though.

"Nice ass," You hear before Soonyoung's hips jerk into you when he yelps and tries to escape the slap that landed on his ass.

"Hyung!" He complains, looking over his shoulder to pout at Jeonghan as the man appears from behind your best friend.

You really can't tell exactly what Jeonghan is supposed to be, you think it's some kind of anime character, or something kinky. Maybe both. Either way, his costume is a strange mix of faux black leather and shimmery red lacey wings. And he pulls it off unfairly well considering that you know he hadn't been prepared for the party that morning at all.

"What? Don't look at me like I'm disturbing something," Jeonghan scoffs, reaching around you to grab the same big plastic bottle you had been filling your cup from. Though he stops and looks at the way Soonyoung is very much pressed against you. Jeonghan grins after noticing that Soonyoung's crotch is definitely smushed against your upper thigh; something you have been doing your best to ignore yourself because yes you can feel everything through the thin material covering you both. "Or maybe I am." He smirks at you both.

"What are you supposed to be exactly?" You ask in an attempt to change the topic to one that won't kill your last remaining dregs of sanity. Then again, with the things that come out of Yoon Jeonghan's mouth, you could still be rendered insane but for a reason other than feeling your best friend's dick pressed against you.

"No idea just grabbed some shit from Hao's costume closet." Jeonghan shrugs as he looks down at himself. "Kind of think this might be less about his costume designing and more about sex though."

"He's definitely worn that harness while fucking someone." You agree and reach out to hook your finger over the thick horizontal strap over Jeonghan's chest. You're pretty sure it's directly over his nipples, but the slightly sheer tank top he's wearing underneath the harness kind of obscures your view enough that you don't have confirmation.

"Mm, definitely." Jeonghan agrees and smirks at you. "Want to take it home yourself?"

"And take it from you? I wouldn't dare, you look so handsome, Hannie," You coo, playing along with the flirty banter you two have always partaken in. Not because anything has ever happened between you nor will it, you've discussed it plenty of times to make sure you're both on the same page still. But it's just fun to harmlessly flirt.

"Never said I won't be wearing it," he licks his lips and gives you a suggestive look.

"You're not going home with her," Soonyoung argues firmly, crowding up against you further though his gaze is on Jeonghan in warning, so he misses the way your eyes widen and dart down to where Soonyoung is now pressing his crotch against your hip, his own thigh pressing up between your thighs. Jeonghan doesn't miss it though and cackles, taking the bottle and his cup away entirely without another word.

"S-soonyoung," You stammer, hands fluttering at his sides, wanting to push him back for your sanity but you think putting your hands on his exposed skin will just make you pull him closer.

"Do you have to flirt with him all the time?" He frowns at you, entirely unaware of the screaming in your mind, mostly just sounds with the odd yell of the word penis. He'd probably laugh if he heard it, to be honest, just because of the word penis. He wouldn't even realise it's his penis you're mentally screaming about. "And when I'm right here too. Did you forget I'm here or something?"

"No," You choke out.

"Then why- are you okay?" He suddenly realises how wide your eyes are.

"I can feel your dick," You blurt, unable to think of anything else.

He blinks at you for a moment then looks down at where he's pressed against you as if he hasn't even noticed until now. "Oh," he pulls his hips back and his thigh from between yours making you let out a heavy shaky exhale as your body relaxes a little. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Ha, not the word I'd use."

"What word would you use?" If he was any other man, you'd say the little quirk of his head and innocent eyes locked onto you is fake, just some kind of game, a way to flirt. But it's Soonyoung and you've seen this man miss the most obvious of flirtations since you've known him; the amount of times you or the guys have had to bluntly tell him that someone had been trying to take him home to fuck is frankly absurd. "Stop touching my ass!" His sudden exclamation makes you jump a little while he looks over his shoulder in annoyance, glaring at Seungkwan who's giving him an innocent look.

"I'm very happy that you two are finally doing something about your consistent sexual tension and mutual pining but take it out of my kitchen, please. I don't want to have to burn my home down if you defile my counters." The younger man speaks bluntly with a slightly sweet edge to his words. You can't even see him but you just know that he's got that too sweet smile on his face that always feels more threatening than anything.

"What?" Soonyoung blinks at him, the annoyance of his ass being grabbed melting away. "We're not doing anything."

"Hannie told me you're being possessive and we all know that she likes that so-"

"Hey!" You exclaim offendedly, not because you can argue it, but just more that you're being talked about like you're not there. "She has a name!"

"Well take hyung home and he can moan it for the neighbours to hear." Seungkwan gives you that sweet-threatening smile as he leans around Soonyoung to meet your gaze. "My neighbours don't want to hear it."

"My neighbours won't hear that," you scoff. Soonyoung can't help but frown, he feels like he's just been rejected even though he hadn't even gotten to the point of actually asking to take you home and fuck you like he wants to, like your mutual friends had convinced him you want him to. But your firm dismissal of Seungkwan's words sounds like you putting that boundary securely in place before he can even ask to tumble over it into your arms.

"He's loud-" Seungkwan starts to point out but you're not done talking even if you had taken a quick scoff break.

"I don't live in a cheap-ass building with paper for walls like you do, Kwannie." You finish.

Both men stare at you for a second, Seungkwan at first just blinks in surprise at the fact you're not even disputing the Soonyoung moaning your name part, just whether or not your neighbours will hear. And Soonyoung is full-on gawping at you, mouth open and eyes wide, wondering if this means that boundary even exists between you.

"Does that mean you won't get a noise complaint? Hyung is pretty loud, you know? There's a reason we don't live together anymore."

"I don't know." You reply with a shrug.

"Then go fucking home already and stop humping against my kitchen counter!" Seungkwan grabs Soonyoung by his hips to yank him backwards away from you while the scantily dressed pirate yelps and flails a little at the unexpected action. Then he's shoved towards the kitchen exit while Seungkwan grabs your wrist to tug you along.

You're both too genuinely dumbstruck by Seungkwan's sudden forceful actions to do anything but stumble along until you're both outside of the apartment, shoes in hands and staring in shock at the door that's just been shut in your faces.

"Did we just get kicked out?" You mutter.

Soonyoung nods slowly and then looks at you. "I think we got kicked out for sex."

"Is it still sexile if you're the ones getting kicked out and told to go elsewhere to fuck?" You muse, attention down as you focus on shoving your feet into your shoes, one hand on the wall behind you and the other out in the air pointlessly.

"Uh, reverse sexile?" He offers, dropping his shoes to shove his feet into.

"Sounds like a sex position."

He laughs. "What would that even look like?"

"No idea." You grin at him then figure that well, it seems like you've both been outed enough already seeing as all of your friends have stopped hiding the fact that they expect you to finally have sex, which really implies a mutual attraction. So you suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a second as he frowns down at his shoe that just will not accept his right foot for some reason. "Shall we go find out?"

Immediately, Soonyoung looks up at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"Shall we go find out what reverse sexile looks like?"

"Like…us?"

"Yeah, Soonyoung, us," You confirm with an amused twitch of your lips. "You said you're the only one to go home with me, right?" He nods. "Then let's go home and find out, Young-ah."

"Ye-no, wait." He steps closer and takes your hand gently before you can start walking down the hall to the staircase. His fingers are barely holding onto your own. It's perhaps the most cautious he's ever taken your hand into his. Even the very first time he had boldly laced your fingers together and you had only met ten minutes previously.

"No?" You ask, feeling really kind of stupid all of a sudden. You had been so unusually confident in asking him to go home and fuck you.

"Not because I don't want to because I do seriously, I really want to fuck you." He breathes out, sounding rather affected by the thought alone as he stares at you longingly and holds your hand a little more securely. "I just…I don't want it to wind up like Seungcheol."

"Uh, what about Seungcheol?" You shuffle a little closer while giving him a questioning look.

"Regularly fucking his best friend who has a crush on someone else, while he…while he wants her as more than just company in his bed." The way his expression turns serious and yearning makes your heart start to race a little with hope.

"While he…Are you saying you want more?" You ask quietly.

"Earlier when I said I care about you too much, I meant I care too much to be able to have sex with you if it means nothing. I really fucking like you and I don't want to go home with you like this if you don't feel the same. I can't do that." He shakes his head a little. "As much as I've thought about this, about you and me doing all kinds of kinky shit all over your apartment, and mine when Jihoon isn't there. Or when he is if you're into exhibitionism, I don't know your kinks and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even notice anyway because he never leaves his fucking room an-" He's rambling at this point, frowning down at your connected hands as he talks.

"Soonyoung." He makes a soft hum of a noise as he looks back up at you with rounded eyes. "We can talk kinks later, I'd really like to get back to the matter of it sounds like you're confessing to me?"

"Oh, right yeah, I guess I am." He chuckles a little and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. "So uh, yeah, I really like you and uhm, I guess now comes the part where hopefully, you say you like me back but I really don't know if you do because the guys just really said you want to fuck me and-" You cover his mouth with your hand that time to shut up his second bout of nervous rambling.

"I really like you too, Soonie," You confirm softly and giggle at the way his features light up adorably behind your palm. "Can we skip the trial dating bullshit and go straight to being together? I'd like to show you off as my boyfriend," His eyes widen dramatically and then he's nodding rapidly in agreement without dislodging your hand. "You're so cute." You coo and lean in just to press a kiss to the back of your hand over his mouth. He looks utterly betrayed and heartbroken when you lean back. "What?" You play innocent and lower your hand while backing up, lacing your fingers behind your back.

"You can't tease me like that, baby!" He whines, toddling after you and dragging his feet in a sulk as he moves along the carpeted flooring of the hall.

"Tease? Me? Never," You grin at him then stop as your back hits the door to the staircase.

"You are, teased me for the past year. Teasing me now." He continues to mumble away as he nears, though cuts off when you reach out to grab the sword and yank on the plastic to pull him in right up against you. His hands automatically fly up to catch himself on the door above your head while his breath catches in his throat.

"If you're so worried I'm going to keep teasing you, Soonie, you better hurry up and take what you want." You warn in a low voice, chin tilted up so your faces are only inches apart.

Soonyoung groans in the back of his throat before he leans down and seals his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He presses his left forearm flat against the door beside your head so that he can firmly hold your jaw with his right hand and tilt you further into him with his thumb pushing on your chin to urge your mouth open wider and deepen the kiss in a manner much too filthy for a public hallway of your friend's apartment building.

"Oh for fucks sake!" The loud voice of the friend in question forces you both apart to peer over Soonyoung's shoulder to where Seungkwan is in the hallway with the cute neighbour he's recently started to date, their hands together and clearly with one intention in mind while sneaking away from his own party. They're standing outside of the neighbour's slightly open door but Seungkwan is staring at you and Soonyoung in disbelief. "I told you to go home! Not get your booty here!"

"Ha, booty, pirate joke." You snigger and Soonyoung giggles, both at your amusement and the pun he honestly hadn't even noticed.

"You two are fucking useless." Seungkwan decides and lets his neighbour tug him into the apartment. "You better be gone before I'm back!"

"90 seconds, right?!" Soonyoung calls as Seungkwan disappears. The younger's head pops back out to glare at the other and flip him a very heartfelt middle finger before the door actually shuts behind him that time. Soonyoung turns to look at you with a mischievous smirk. "Should we go fuck on his bed just to piss him off?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather only I hear you like that, Soonie," You pout at him cutely. "I'm not very good at sharing my toys, you know."

"Oh, I'm your toy now?" He muses, reaching down to open the door carefully to back you through it with his other arm wrapping around your waist.

"Mm, mine and only mine to play with when I want, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yours and yours only, baby." He agrees lowly. "And you're mine."

"I am." You confirm and tilt up to kiss him teasingly. "Let's hurry and get home so I can show you everything that now belongs to you."

A/N; There is more to this but I had to cut it all because it really was me mostly rambling with a sort of hand job thrown in there. The title comes from a conversation in the part I haven't included, by the way. Working title was "Yo ho hoe". But if I continue that part I removed from this, I guess there will be a part 2 as a direct continuation from this and it'll include smut.

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

[wheels-of-despair]

Evil Woman and Baby Bro vs. The Worst Summer Vacation Ever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman and Baby Bro are off to see their old man in sunny Florida! Against their will. Armed only with well-concealed snacks and metal mix tapes and unacceptable attitudes. Send help. Contains: Lots of Gareth the Grump, a sucktastic step-family, sweet gifts from Eddie, pining, forced family fun time, a wicked sunburn, a daring escape, an emotional reunion, a hospital visit, a happy ending. Words: 6.7k

Your brother doesn't ask you for much.

Leave him alone. Grab him a soda. Stop being gross. (Well, that one's usually directed at Eddie, too.) But in general, he's pretty easy to get along with. You'd never actually tell him this, lest it go to his already big head, but you like him. Genuinely. He's a good baby brother.

So when he asked (begged) you to accompany him on a family vacation (court-ordered) to Florida (oh, the humidity!) with your father and step-mother and her two brats…

"He said please," you explain to Eddie. He sits on the opposite side of your couch, arms and legs crossed, glaring at you. (Yes, the thought of bringing him with you had crossed your mind, but your old man wouldn't even pretend to consider it. Even if you tried to pass him off as one of Gareth's friends and not the guy who does unspeakable things to you whenever you're left alone for ten minutes.)

"You're leaving me, the love of your life, alone for two whole weeks. To go to a place you don't want to go to, with people you hate…" his eyes somehow narrow more, "because Gareth said please."

You heave a sigh and lean your head back to stare at the ceiling. You've been through this. Yes, you're a legal adult and don't have to abide by government-enforced visitation requirements for children of divorce anymore. Yes, you hate your father and his replacement family and the traveling and the beach. But you love your brother. You don't want him to suffer alone.

"Alright, I guess I'll allow it."

You raise your head to see that his vicious glare has been betrayed by a twinkle in his eye and a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh and crawl to him. He opens his arms and stretches out his legs, and you lie on the couch together instead of staring at each other across an empty cushion.

"It's just two weeks," you remind him, nuzzling your cheek into his chest. "And it's the last time. If all goes well, I may never have to see the old man again."

Eddie sighs and holds you a little tighter.

"You're not gonna like… fall in love with some big buff surfer dude with a nice tan and decide not to come home, are you?"

You snort. "Baby, you know I like 'em scrawny and pale."

"How dare you, I am not… wait, do you think I'm scrawny?"

"Nah," you smile, sticking your hand under his shirt and rubbing the belly that's filled out beautifully since you started feeding him actual food. "You're perfect."

"You keep that in mind when Brad and Chad try to make their move," he mumbles into your hair.

"Oh, there's two of them?" you tease. "Are they twins? This… this might change things. Hang on, let me re-evaluate. Two big buff twin surfer dudes." You draw a 2 with your finger, just above his belly button. "One pale nerd." You draw a 1, slowly dragging your finger down his happy trail. He shudders. You glance at the clock.

"Y'know…" you begin, letting your fingers trace his zipper and the growing stiffness it's barely concealing. "We've got half an hour…"

Day One

"I'm gonna miss you so fucking much."

"I'll be back before you know it," you mumble into Eddie's chest. You didn't think it would hurt this much to leave him behind. But here you are, squeezing the life out of him like it's the very last time. Two weeks without him is going to feel like an eternity.

"It's time to goooo," your mom calls from the car. She and Gareth have been waiting with the windows down while you said goodbye to Eddie (again) but it would appear that her patience is beginning to wear thin.

"Gotta go," you sigh, pulling back and looking up at his gorgeous face one last time. "Will you be here when I get back?"

Eddie recites the landing time of your return flight and assures you that he will be here, in this driveway, waiting for you to get home.

"Love you," you whisper.

"Love you more," he counters, leaning in for one last kiss.

He walks you the few steps to the car and opens the back door for you. You get in. He closes it. You turn back to face him as the car pulls away; your eyes don't leave his until you turn the corner and your driveway disappears from sight.

You lean back and close your eyes, feeling empty and alone, while your mother and brother chat in the front seat. You can't believe you left him behind. Two whole Eddie-less weeks. You haven't gone more than a few days without seeing each other since you met.

You reach into your bag and pull out the mix tape he'd given you this morning. "If you come back here a pop fan, I'm going to be very upset with you," he'd teased. You stare at the paper insert he'd decorated for you, and then let your hand close around the box. You wish it were his hand instead.

The trip to the airport, the flight, and the landing were a bit of a blur. Your mother teared up as she said goodbye. The plane was cramped, and even the eardrum-blasting mix tape Eddie made you wasn't powerful enough to drown out the sound of multiple crying babies. Getting there was the easy part. The real adventure began when you and your brother got off the plane... and saw a taxi driver holding a cardboard sign with your names hastily scribbled in Sharpie.

"If you were to make two kids who didn't like you come to visit you in a place they didn't want to go to, don't you think you'd at least bother to show up and get them?" Gareth grumbles.

"Baby brother, you're looking at it all wrong. Would you rather spend this ride in a roomy cab with a total stranger, or crammed into a backseat with the evil step-siblings?" He answers with a smirk.

The cab ride took almost an hour, and passed in silence. After shooting each other odd looks meaning things like "are we going to get murdered?" or "at least there's no small talk" you stared out the windows and took in the scenery. Florida is not nearly as neon as Miami Vice would have you believe. You passed strip malls and houses and palm trees. Very exciting.

The driver pulls up to the curb in front of a rental house near the beach and exits the cab without turning off the engine. You take this as your cue to get out. He moves your bags from the trunk to the sidewalk while the pair of you stretch, then gets back into the car and drives away without a word.

"Guess he got paid up front," you muse, watching his taillights grow smaller.

"Great conversationalist, feel like we should've tipped him for that," Gareth grins.

"There they aaaare!" your step-monster squeals from the porch, making you both wince. "Come in, we've got so many fun things planned!"

"Kill me," Gareth grumbles under his breath.

The reunion goes about as expected. You're escorted into the kitchen for a lovely feast of weird organic hippie food that makes both of you queasy. (You've both stowed away plenty of snacks in your luggage.) You're grilled on each school subject and your nonexistent extracurriculars, and then forced to sit through a recap of everything your angelic step-siblings have accomplished since you'd seen them last. Honor roll! Perfect attendance! Soccer trophy! Scout badges!

You pick at your lunch and endure the bottomless bragging until you're escorted to your rooms.

"Girls are in here, and the boys are down the hall!" the step-monster chirps.

You both freeze.

"We always bunk together," you protest.

"You're not hiding out under headphones and listening to your Satanic music the whole time like you did over Christmas," your father chimes in. "This vacation is about family bonding."

"We're as bonded as we're gonna get," Gareth argues, crossing his arms boldly in defiance. You're letting him pick the movie and the snacks on your first movie night back home.

"If you're going to be difficult, I could just send you home."

"Is that an option?" you ask.

"Because we choose that," Gareth adds.

"Can't we all please just--" the step-monster begins.

"IN!" the old man roars.

You trade smirks and part ways.

You unpack your suitcase in the pink room with the two twin beds and listen to the step-sister (what is she, 9? 10?) yap excitedly about whatever random thoughts cross her mind until dinner. Which sucks even more than lunch did. After dinner, the whole family gets to clean up together and play a thrilling game of Monopoly! (Barf.)

You make the old man proud by volunteering to be the banker. It shows initiative! Perhaps a career in finance is in your future! Little did he know, it was so you could slip Gareth extra play money under the table. He owns almost the whole board by the end. The little ones are quite frustrated by all the rent they have to pay.

Tragically, Garethopoly is called before the broke little angels give in to the tantrums that had been brewing all night. At 8:30 (wow), you're instructed to put the game away and get ready for bed.

You put on pajamas chosen specifically for this occasion; boys' boxers and a stained Hellfire Club shirt. Your cellmate, looking like a proper princess in her frilly nightgown, eyes you warily. Good. You sit on your stupid pink bed, turn on the seashell lamp, and pull out one of the six paperbacks you brought along.

Your eyes won't focus on the words, but you pretend to read in hopes of being left alone. There are so many things you'd rather be doing, and places you'd rather be. You should be arguing over shitty horror movies at Family Video with Eddie right now. And getting a pizza.

God, it's only been one day of hippie food, and you're already fantasizing about pizza.

The step-sister shrieks when Gareth enters the pink nightmare of a room.

"No boys allowed!"

"Chill, kid, I'm just making a delivery," he rolls his eyes.

"My name is Ashley, and this is the girls' room!"

The attitude behind her declaration makes it the funniest thing you've heard all day. You disguise your laugh as a cough. Gareth ignores her and tosses a cassette to you. You pick it up curiously. When you notice Eddie's handwriting, your heart soars.

"Eddie told me to give that to you before bed," he sighs, then furrows his brow and launches into his best Eddie impression: "'Not at the airport, not when you get there. Right before bed. You hear me, little drummer boy?' Kay. I did it. Be sure to tell him that your tape was delivered at the appropriate time."

"Will do," you laugh. "Thank you."

"Yup," he says, cutting his eyes at the step-sister who's still glaring at him with her covers pulled up to her neck. For modesty. He rolls his eyes again and leaves.

"What's that?" she asks after he's out of sight.

"A tape."

"What's on it?"

"Probably a mix," you shrug.

"What kind of mix?"

You're spared further questioning by the step-monster coming in to tuck her little angel in. How sweet. You pop your headphones on and pretend to listen until the lights are out and the kid quiets down.

And then you press play.

"Gareth, if you're listening to this, I promise… you will regret it," Eddie rumbles, low and threatening. You've never been so happy to hear someone's voice in your life. That's your Eddie. It's like he's right here with you. You'd rather be there with him, but you'll take what you can get. "I'm warning you, man. This tape contains shit you absolutely cannot unhear. You will be scarred for life. This is your last chance. Rewind the tape, and pass it on like you were instructed to. Right before bed. Thank you for your cooperation."

You bring your hand to cover your mouth so laughter won't escape. He waits a beat, then changes his tone.

"Hey, baby," he says smoothly. Tears prickle at your eyes. "If you're missing me half as much as I'm missing you, you're probably hurtin' pretty bad. But it's okay. I'm here." Tears stream down your face and drip on your pillow. "Here's what's gonna happen: I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna pause the tape and think of an answer. And then you're gonna hit play again, and you're gonna laugh, because I've predicted exactly what you're going to say. You ready?" You nod. "You just nodded, didn't you?" You smile and nod again. "See, I know you better than you know yourself. Now… how was your day?"

You press pause. Shitty. The plane was crowded and the ride was bumpy. It's hot and muggy, and you're rooming with a kid you don't like, and you don't want to be here. You want to be there with him, cuddled up on his couch or in your basement or in the van. You want to go home. You press play.

"Wow, that sucks. Screw that Florida weather, and your dumb-ass step-family." You smile. "It's gonna take so much work to counteract this horrible vacation. We're gonna have to hole up in the trailer and eat nothing but junk food for a solid week to undo this. You in?"

Absolutely.

"Knew you would be. What do you think I'm doing right now?"

You press pause and think. Watching TV and/or jerking off. Play.

"Don't say jerking off, you pervert."

He didn't say he wasn't, he just said not to say it. He's jerking off.

"I am not!" He does that goofy little chuckle he does, and you wish you were close enough to feel it vibrate through you. "Okay, I might be. I'm lonely, dammit." You hear a paper shuffle. "As you might have guessed, I've tried to script these out and time it so I've got enough to keep you Eddie-fied until you get home. So it's not much, but I'm hoping it's enough to remind you that I'm here and I miss you and I'm NOT JERKING OFF while I wait for you to come home. Well, not the whole time, anyway. That's about it for tonight, but uh… I'm gonna end every night with a song. To lull you to sleep. Because that's the kind of music we're into, obviously."

You close your eyes and hug your walkman to your chest, wishing it were him instead.

"This first one needs no introduction, so!" He clears his throat and starts singing… to the tune of Black Sabbath's "Evil Woman". "I miss that look of evil in your eyes, that thing about not jerking off was a lie, sorrow will be me until you're here, not sure what Ozzy's saying there… Evil Woman, please come play your games with me!"

Eddie stops singing and starts laughing. "Okay, that's it, you've been sung to sleep, now please do wicked and kinky to things to me in our dreams." He laughs again. "Turn the tape off after the 'love you', because you're not allowed to listen to tomorrow's until tomorrow. Kay? Kay. Good night, my Evil Woman. I hope your tomorrow sucks less than today. I love you. Press stop. Now. Now! Now? Now!"

You wait a beat and press stop, leaving the headphones on. What if you're not ready to say goodbye? Even for 24 hours?

Day Two

"Hey, baby." You press pause and let the feeling of calmness wash over you. You've been looking forward to hearing his voice all day. Play. "How was day two? You didn't forget about me already, did you? Is Gareth keeping those pretty surfer boys away from you like I asked? Tell me everything."

Pause. Today sucked. At least most of the first day was spent traveling with someone you like. Why did the old man even want you here if he was just going to be a dick to you both the whole time? Those brats were up your ass every second, asking too many questions and watching your every move with their beady little eyes. They went through your bags when you and Gareth hid out on the balcony for a moment of fucking peace and turned your contraband in to the authorities. All your food. Even your friggin' aspirin. You'd both received a long-ass lecture on chemicals and toxins and personal responsibility and how unhealthy habits shorten your lifespan. Which didn't sound too bad right fucking now. You were hungry. You couldn't sleep. Those fuckers dragged you out of bed at 6am, and for what? "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a family healthy, wealthy, and wise!" Psychos. Absolute psychos.

Play. "Wow, baby. That fucking sucks. Want me to come get you? 'Cause I'll do it. I'll hop in this van and speed my ass down to… where are you again? Doesn't matter, I'll find you."

Your chest aches.

"Ready to be lulled to sleep by the comforting voice of your handsome lover?" Always. "Alright, here goes." He clears his throat. "Your body's empty now as I hold you… wait, that's a pillow. Now you're gone, I miss you, but I told you, I remember bath times and morning wood, you best come back to me, without you I'm no good. I love you to death! I love you to death!"

Megadeth's "Loved to Deth," only better. Eddie laughs to himself when he finishes. "G'night, babe. Hope tomorrow's a better one. Love you."

Stop. You've never felt more lonely in your life. Taking off your headphones and glancing over to confirm that the step-brat is asleep, you get out of bed as quietly as you can. You need air.

You walk down the hallway toward the balcony, and aren't too surprised to find Gareth already there, on the wicker sofa staring out at the ocean. You sit next to him.

"I wanna go home," he mumbles.

"Me too," you whisper.

"How are we supposed to survive 12 more days of this?"

"By not letting them get to us. Just remember… we get to go home soon, and be happy, with people we like. These assholes will continue to be assholes, wherever they are."

Gareth heaves a sigh. You'd hug him if you didn't think he'd pretend to gag.

"I don't wanna go back in there. That kid's fucking creepy. I woke up this morning and he was just laying there, staring at me."

"Oh my god, the girl was doing that too!" you whisper in outrage. "What is wrong with them?!"

"Fuckin' Children of the Corn," he grumbles. You snort.

"Well… we probably won't get away with it for more than one night, but we could stay out here until the warden drags us back inside," you suggest.

"Fine by me," Gareth groans, scooting down on the cushion and putting his feet on the coffee table. "Is this improper?" he asks in a bad British accent.

"Nah, we were raised in a barn, it's fine," you grin, moving to do the same. You knew you'd both catch hell for not sleeping in your assigned cells in the morning, but for tonight, you'd take fresh air and Gareth over a creepy kid and a hard twin bed.

Day Three

"Hey, baby. Congrats on surviving three days without me! Your prize is coming home ASAP for some sweet lovin'." Eddie laughs at himself. "How was your day?"

Pause. Fucking sucked. You woke up to yelling about not being in your beds for your 6am wakeup call. You ate a bland breakfast and were dragged to the beach for a family photo op. Staged photos of all the loving siblings bonding. Building a sand castle… that your father actually built, because it needed to be impressive and photo-worthy. You all had to gather around it and smile and pretend to be working on it while the step-monster snapped away. Eating healthy snacks on an ironed picnic blanket. Playing in the ocean… where the playful splashes from the step-brats got so much saltwater in your face, your eyes were too red for more photos. You looked like drug addicts! It was disgraceful! Family fun time would have to continue tomorrow.

After that, you huddled under an umbrella until time to go inside. You and Gareth had applied sunscreen multiple times throughout the day, but still got a bit of a burn. This trip is un-fucking-bearable. You'd give anything to be in your dark basement with Eddie, far away from these douchebags and the burning Florida sun. Play.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighs. "I thought you were exaggerating when you told me how much these people sucked. No wonder you'd rather be at home with me." You'd do anything to trade this hell for sixty seconds of being home with your Eddie. "Ready for your song?" You nod. "People gonna make ya wonder if you're right, keep ya wide awake and worried late at night. Why don't ya tell 'em to beat it? Why don't ya tell 'em to eat it? Just a bunch of clowns, don't let 'em grind ya down!"

Motorhead's "Grind You Down."

"I know I didn't change anything in this one, but I don't think I needed to. I hope this song gets stuck in your head for the rest of the trip. Keep it playing. Don't let 'em grind ya down. That's it for tonight, babe. Hope tomorrow's better. Love ya."

Stop. You stare at the ceiling and grasp a handful of blanket, wishing it were Eddie's hand. You imagine hearing the roar of his van in the street and sneaking out and running away from here until you eventually nod off.

Day Four

"Hey, baby. How was day four?"

Pause. You couldn't find your sunscreen this morning. You'd torn the house apart, desperate for that high SPF you'd bought especially for this trip, and the step-brats finally found the bottle on the porch. Maybe you dropped it in your hurry to get back inside yesterday, you thought. You slathered it on as fast as you could, during a lecture about holding everyone up, and returned to the beach.

They kept you so busy staging bullshit for the camera, you didn't notice the problem until it was too late.

It was not your sunscreen. The step-brats had dumped your sunscreen out and refilled the bottle with lotion for a fun prank. The giggly little bastards finally confessed after your third re-application of the day. You and your brother were already burnt to a fucking crisp. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. The demon children were given a finger-wag and forced to skip dessert. (Cantaloupe, what a cruel blow.) You and Gareth were told to stop being so dramatic about a little sunburn. It was a harmless prank, they said. This is what siblings do, they said. Nevermind the chills and the headache and the unbearable fucking pain. It's just a harmless prank! Play.

"Those bastards. Do you want me to come down there and fight them? 'Cause I will. You know I will." Yes, please.

"Okay, this one's extremely rewritten to make up for yesterday's. Sorry-slash-you're welcome. Here we go: "Evil Woman, you've been down too long in the Florida sun, and I am having no fun."" Tears prick at your eyes. He's rewritten Dio's "Holy Diver" for you. "Ride the dolphin, see the sand and the sea, hope you'll think of me. Oh, I am so lonely." He laughs, but the tears spill down your burning cheeks. "Not bad, right? Watch your back, Weird Al. Weirder Ed's coming for you. Well, that's it for tonight… talk to you tomorrow, okay? Love you."

You rewind and replay the song. It's one of his absolute favorites. The fact that he rewrote a perfect song just for you makes you melt. Or maybe that's just your insides reacting to your outsides being fried.

"Evil Woman, you've been down too long in the Florida sun, and I am having no fun. Ride the dolphin, see the sand and the sea, hope you'll think of me. Oh, I am so lonely."

Gotta get away. The next line would be "gotta get away".

You lie there on your hot, scratchy sheets and think about escaping in order to get your mind off of the pain. What if you… and then you… could you actually pull this off?

When you're sure everyone's asleep, you get out of bed as quietly as you can and creep down the hallway to the boys' room. Gareth's not in his bed. He's not on the balcony. You stalk quietly through the house, no idea where he might be in this strange place.

He's standing in front of the fridge with the door open.

"You okay?" you whisper.

He jumps back and gasps. The bottles in the door rattle. He closes it softly, but you both look in the direction of the bedrooms and listen closely for stirring. You relax when you hear nothing.

"Scare the shit out of me, why don't you," he grumbles, leaning against the cool metal of the fridge. "No. Not okay. I'm hungry. I hurt. Everything fucking sucks. I wanna go home."

Your brother's not much of a crier these days, but his eyes look suspiciously shiny in the moonlight shining through the windows. It fills you with rage.

"Let's go."

"What?" he asks.

"Let's fucking go."

You stare at each other for a moment.

"You're serious?"

"Dead fucking serious. We don't want to be here. That dickhead only wanted us here for a photo op, so he can show everyone what a great parent he is. They're not just gonna let us sit here for the rest of the trip. Wherever they go, they're gonna drag us along too. Burns and all. So let's fucking go."

"Let's fucking go," Gareth echoes, pushing off the fridge.

"Pack your shit, I'll meet you back here in ten," you say quietly.

"More like three," Gareth smirks. "I never unpacked my shit to begin with."

You grin at each other, even though it hurts your fried faces, and take off toward your bedrooms.

You're packed in no time. You make a quick stop in your dad's bedroom, holding your breath while you extract a credit card and a few bills from his wallet. He snores away, rigid and on his back like he learned how to sleep from a textbook on how to mimic a human. The step-monster sleeps like a corpse, hands clasped on her stomach and mask covering her eyes. They're not even touching. You and Eddie could never.

You slip out of the room and find Gareth waiting for you in the kitchen.

"Ready?"

"Born ready."

You step out the front door and let it close with a satisfying click. Adios, bitchachos.

"Now what?" he asks.

You stare at the dark, empty street.

"Guess we walk," you grin.

"All the way back to Indiana?"

"To a bus stop or a cab that will take us to an airport, smartass." If you weren't both in pain already, you'd smack him. He smirks, and you start walking.

The further away from those people you get, the better you feel. When you get to the highway, a cab pulls over. You didn't even hail it. It's like it was meant to be. A woman in her fifties, named Linda, takes you to the nearest airport… which is fifteen minutes away from the rental house.

"Why did he have us hauled halfway across Florida in a cab when we got here, if there was an airport right here?" Gareth asks when it comes into view.

"This one's more expensive," Linda supplies. "I can take you to that one, if you'd prefer? Might save you a few bucks."

"That's okay," you smile. "We need to get home as soon as possible. Our father can spare it."

You thank her for the ride and give her a hefty tip that makes her face light up.

"You kids have a safe trip! And put some aloe on that sunburn!" she calls out her window as you enter the airport.

You approach the desk and talk to a pretty blonde about the first flight to the Midwest. You slide the credit card across the counter and secure two tickets to Chicago on a plane that leaves in an hour.

Day Five

"Did we actually pull this off?" Gareth mumbles, gazing lovingly at the ticket in his hand.

"Hope so," you mumble, taking it from him and putting it in your pocket for safekeeping. Little brothers, no matter their age, are not to be trusted. "Let's find the gate, then find something to eat."

"Hell yeah."

You walk for a while, and stop when the gate comes into view. You don't need to walk all the way down there just yet.

"That's us," you mumble, gesturing toward the gate in the distance. "By the time we eat, it'll probably be time to board. Let's roll."

You look to Gareth, but he's not looking at you. He's looking at the McDonald's sign. The golden arches shine like a light at the end of a miserable tunnel leading out of organic hell.

"Good choice, Gareth the Great," you smile. "Know what you want?"

"Everything," he practically drools.

You don't quite order everything, but the two of you devour a tray full of fast food - at airport prices, on the old man - like you've been starving for days. Which you have.

"Fifteen minutes until boarding begins," you note, sucking down the last of your drink and looking at your watch. "Let's hit the bathroom and call Mom."

You dump your trash and find the bathroom. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and recoil. The burn looks so much worse under these fluorescent lights. No wonder you both scored free refills. You're going to peel for the rest of your life. If you ever see those brats again, it's ON.

You meet Gareth at the pay phones and drop a few coins in. But your mom's line is busy. You try again a minute later. Still busy. The clock is ticking. You call Eddie instead.

"Hawkins Morgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em," he says boredly.

"Hi, baby," you breathe, so relieved to hear him live.

"Well this is unexpected," he laughs. "Tapes not doing it for you anymore? Needed some of the real thing?"

You smile, but Gareth's impatient face reminds you why you're making the call.

"We're on the run, babe, and we need your help."

"The Munson Underground is always at your service, m'lady."

"I tried calling Mom, but the phone was busy. Can you tell her that we're on the 1:05 out of Tampa, and we should be in Chicago at… wait, does that account for the time difference?"

"You're seriously making a break for it?"

"Yeah," you whisper, the reality of what you're doing starting to sink in. "We couldn't take it anymore. It was awful, Eddie."

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and Gareth takes the phone before you can start crying on it.

"She'll be alright once she gets home. Which should be sometime in the next few hours. Will you hunt down our mother and tell her to pick us up?" He tells Eddie to get a pen, then relays the details of the ticket. "Kay. Here's your wife." He hands the phone back to you.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" he says, voice calm and soothing.

"Okay," your voice cracks. "Love you."

"Love you more," he says. "Gotta go, I'm gonna go tell your mom in person since you can't get through. See you in a few hours!"

You hang up the phone and take a shaky breath.

"Ready?" Gareth asks.

"In a minute," you mumble, checking your watch again. You approach the information desk and ask for an envelope. You put your father's name on it, put his credit card and change from the cab ride and dinner in it, and seal it. The woman at the counter assures you that it will be held in the office for your father. You'll call and tell him where to get it when you're safely back home, where you belong. (Or maybe send him a nice postcard.)

You board the plane wordlessly, sinking into your seats with a renewed sense of urgency. You're not out of the woods until you're in the air. You watch the people filing on, wondering if your old man would be smart enough to figure out where you went. Or if he cared enough to show up and drag you off.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the plane takes off, and so does Gareth. You're in the sky. You're on the way home. Everything is going to be okay.

"We're free," you mouth.

"Fuck yeah," he mouths back.

You grin at each other and reach for your walkmans. Should you listen to the rest of Eddie's goodnight songs, or save those? You'll save them. One a night, those are the rules. You pop in the mix tape he made you and close your eyes.

You don't open them again until you land. Your head is pounding. Your mouth is dry. The chills are getting worse. Your skin feels like it's going to crack if you move too much. Gareth feels it too, wincing and hissing as he gets out of his seat.

You gather your things and exit the plane with the rest. The blast of cold air conditioning feels nice on your hot skin as you step into the massive airport.

"Look," Gareth nudges you. You both regret it instantly, but you look in the direction he gestures to see your mom and your Eddie waiting for you. You quicken your pace.

"Holy shit," they say in unison as you approach.

You walk into Eddie, and his arms wrap around you. He's so warm, your body tells you to get away from him. Heat bad! Cold good! But you endure the discomfort, holding him tight and crying into his chest. You made it. You're home.

"Let me look at you," your mom orders, peeling you away from Eddie. "What the hell happened? Did you forget your sunscreen?"

Tears leak down your face, stinging as they go.

"Those little assholes dumped our sunscreen and replaced it with lotion," Gareth growls. "It's just a harmless prank, you're overreacting," he mocks in his best Dad Voice.

"Like hell," your mom seethes. "You're going to the ER." Gareth whines, but you expect this will be a nice documented event to bring up in court if the old man still insists on visitation after this debacle. You both agree to drink a full bottle of overpriced airport water in the car, in exchange for going to the hospital in Hawkins rather than the city. You want to go home, dammit.

Your luggage is collected, and you head out to the car. You and Eddie sit in the back, and you want desperately to lay your head on his shoulder and sleep the whole way home. But it's too hot. Your face hurts too bad. You settle on holding his hand loosely; your palm didn't get burned, at least. He uncaps your bottle every few minutes and reminds you to take a drink.

The visit to Hawkins Memorial Hospital doesn't take long. The nurse makes you both chug another bottle of water while you wait, and the doctor quickly diagnoses you with sun poisoning. You are sentenced to several weeks of aloe, rest, and staying indoors. No one in your party has any objections.

When you finally get home, Eddie helps you get your clothes off while your mom helps your brother. It's ten times harder and more painful than usual. He coats you with aloe and puts you to bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Your sheets scratch. Your skin burns. You can't stop crying.

"What's the matter?" he asks, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"It's stupid," you cry.

"Tell me anyway."

"All I want is for you to hold me but you're too hot and I'm a lobster and I'm going to crack and peel and die."

Eddie snorts, and you cry harder. He lies down in your bed, on the edge so he's not touching you. All you've thought about for days is in your grasp, and you can't touch him. It's cruel and unusual and it's not fair.

"I'm right here. The burn will fade in a week or two. Then we can get back to being all over each other and grossing everyone out, and all will be right with the world."

You let out a strange sob-laugh sound, and it makes him smile. A chill causes your whole body to shiver.

"How are we doing in here?" your mom asks from the doorway.

"Fine," you lie.

"She's crying and shivering," Eddie tells her.

"Traitor," you mumble.

"I brought painkillers and a glass of water," your mom says. Eddie sits up to receive her gifts. "Don't let her sleep until she drains that."

"Yes, ma'am."

You sit up long enough to take your pills and drink your water, then fall asleep next to the Eddie you can't touch.

You wake to the unmistakable sound of your mother giving her ex-husband a piece of her mind. Eddie's eyes are as round as saucers while you listen together; you've never heard her this mad before. There are curses, there are threats, and finally, the sound of a phone being slammed back onto the base. The house is plunged back into a heavy silence. You stare at each other for a moment, not daring to make a sound.

"If she ever yells at me like that, I'm gonna be crying and apologizing and trying to make it up to her for the rest of my life," he whispers.

"I've never heard her yell at anyone but him like that," you smile. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Thank fuck," he breathes.

"You guys awake?"

You and Eddie both jump at her soft voice in the doorway.

"I'll take that as a yes," she chuckles. "You're due for another pill and about a gallon of water. Would you like some pancakes with it? You slept through breakfast. And lunch."

"Sure," you answer, stretching and immediately regretting it.

"A fresh coat of aloe will make it easier to move," she advises.

"On it," Eddie says, rolling out of bed to get it.

"I'm gonna go see if Gareth managed to sleep through that, then I can fill my little fugitives in on all the trouble they've caused." She laughs to herself and proceeds down the hallway.

She recapped the phone call over pancakes. Your father got his credit card back… and a bill so massive, Gareth's likely off the hook for any remaining court-ordered visits. The old man ranted about you two ruining his family vacation, and hurting the step-monster's feelings, and ignoring the step-demons, and being surly and secretive the whole time, and stealing from him, and of course the cost of the plane tickets… but somehow, the icing on the cake was that you'd left the McDonald's receipt in the envelope with his change. "How could anyone spend that much money on garbage masquerading as food?!" You all had a good laugh over that one, then went back to bed. Doctor's orders.

For the next two weeks, you happily holed up in your dark basement with your brother and your boyfriend and sometimes your friends, watching movies and eating junk and drinking all the water you could hold. You still insisted on listening to your Eddie Tape every night, but with him next to you, your answers to the "how was your day" questions were much happier. After about a week, you declared yourself cleared for cuddling, and started to make up for lost time.

Gareth was so happy to be home, he didn't even complain.

Much.

[ramirezmindset]

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭?

*+:｡.｡　mickey garcia x reader　｡.｡:+*

→ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you've been married to mickey for nearly three years now, but things can only stay secret for so long, especially when a certain Jake discovers you two on a coffee date...

→ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: adult language, but mainly fluff and a few sexual innuendos (no smut) :P definite naval inaccuracies, mickey and y/n are both around twenty-eight years old during this. ↳ wc: 3050

→ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: first post on this blog also first time writing in maybe 4 (??) years eeeek!!! hope it lives up to the hype, feelin funky fresh - requests are open!

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seven years ago

You were a fresh spring chicken. A graduate, an adult, a taxpayer, looking on towards the horizon at your fresh and gleaming new life, the excitement was palpable. You and your best girlfriend, Cara, had moved into your new San Diego apartment a mere seven months ago, both of you having job offers out the door. Maybe being grown up wasn't so bad.

There was one thing missing from your life, you thought, as you looked out the window of the café you and Cara settled on for coffee. You didn't have anyone.

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Cara exclaimed, a slight smirk on her face. You didn't realise you said that out loud. She knew exactly what you meant by 'anyone', she just loved to tease you. You rolled your eyes at her and chuckled.

"C, you know exactly what I mean. You have Sophie, who, by the way, might as well start paying rent considering she's at our apartment every. Single. Night." Now it was Cara's turn to roll her eyes.

You had always been the shy guy out of your friends, much preferring comics and solo nights in to crazy nights on the trot. It's not that you were against an alcohol fuelled 'gals about the town' evening with all your best friends, but nothing beat the comfort of laying on the couch doing absolutely nothing all by yourself.

And you complain you don't have anyone. The hypocrisy is almost laughable as you take a sip of your coffee. You were just never the type to attract anyone, it's not that you were bad looking, or lacked the social skills to keep someone engaged in conversation, it's just that you never liked the people who approached you. They were always too this, or too that, and despite all of your friends telling you that "his favourite spiderman suit will not affect the sex", you just couldn't do it.

"Yeah, about that" Cara trailed off, running the tip of her finger over the rim of her mug. "Sophie and I have been together for a while now..."

"Six months, three weeks, and five days" You replied, closing your eyes in disbelief at the fact you even know that let alone said it out loud.

"Yes, however long that is" Cara waved her hand at you. "Anyway, Sophie mentioned that her and I get our own place together." She squinted her eyes at you, trying to gage how you were feeling, but you stayed silent, lips pursed.

"Ok" You sighed. "I don't blame you. Do it!"

"Really? You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" You giggled before reaching across the table to hold her hand. "You're my best friend, and I'm so glad that you and Sophie found each other, and I want you to go and be happy and live life and have sex and not have to worry about waking me up 'cos the walls in our apartment are so thin!"

Cara chuckled and shook her head. "Yeah, that is a perk, actually. But now, you'll have an empty apartment, go rent the spare room out to a hot guy or bring someone home and fuck them as loud as you want and-" Her jaw falls slack. "Don't look now, but look now, is that not the most delicious man you've ever seen!"

You turn your head to look in the same direction as her, and sure enough, the most attractive man you've ever seen in your life is approaching the barista just a mere few metres away from you.

"Holy shit" slips off your tongue before you can even think, and you can't stop yourself from staring at him.

He was standing there, looking around nervously, his hands thrust into the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans. A mop of inky curls sat upon his head, just leaving his chocolate brown eyes in your view as they darted around the room. His T-Shirt hugged his biceps almost too well, as if it was made for him, and you could feel your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

"Cara, kill me right now. Just fucking kill me immediately" You pulled your eyes away from him to see Cara sinking into her chair, her hand covering her mouth as she was nearly crying from laughter. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing, I've just- I've never seen you like this before" She takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes. "Go talk to him! If you don't fuck him, I will, and I'm gay!"

"No! Cara, no, I can barely talk to ugly guys, and he is-" You close your eyes and swallow. "And he is actually raw sex appeal"

Before you know it, Cara is kicking your shins underneath the table, using her feet to twist your knees to the side and practically force you to stand up.

"At least go order another drink whilst he's there! Just smell him, I know you want to!" She laughs as you nervously approach the space at the register next to him.

He makes eye contact with you as you walk past, whipping his head to follow your body as you make your way to the counter. You're internally cursing yourself for wearing a stupid Spiderman sweater for coffee, I look like such a freak, you think.

"1984, Secret Wars" someone says from beside you. You whip your head towards him, eyes wide and confused. "Your sweater. The first black Spiderman suit, 1984, Secret Wars" He smiles awkwardly.

"How did you-" You shake your head. "Yeah, yeah it is" You glance over his shoulder at Cara, who is sat there with her mouth agape at your absolutely horrendous attempt at chat. "Um, it's nice to meet someone who knows this stuff. I felt like a total dork in this sweater five seconds ago"

"You shouldn't" He grins at you, a big, gleaming, shit-eating grin. "I love Spiderman, and I think you're cute as fuck" His hand instinctively comes up to nervously scratch at the back of his neck as a blush rises up your face.

"Thank you" You say, grabbing the coffee you forgot you even ordered because you were too busy tripping over your thoughts when you walked over. "I'm Y/N, by the way"

"Mickey" He replies. "I'm Mickey, and I'd love to take you out"

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present day

It had been seven years to the day since you first met Mickey in the café in San Diego, and here you were, in the exact same spot, with the exact same man, ordering the exact same coffee's, except this time with rings adorning your fingers.

The last seven years had been a whirlwind, Cara did end up finding her own place with Sophie, the two of which were still together, and you did end up bringing a hot guy home and fucking him as loud as you wanted to, just as she said on that fateful day, and instead of renting out Cara's old room, you invited Mickey into yours, turning the now empty second bedroom into your comic shrine just two months after your first meeting.

It turns out, yourself and Mickey had more in common than you could've ever imagined, and for the first time in your life, you didn't feel like a total misfit. When you learnt he was a naval aviator, it was a surprise, but something you were willing to work with, there was no way in hell you were going to let a guy this perfect slip from your grasp. Plus, you knew it would all work itself out in the end, evident in the fact he's now working in the city you both live.

You look down at the wedding bands sitting delicately on your finger, thinking about the life you've shared with Mickey, the love, the laughter.

"Cara, I don't think I'm ready for this" Your maid of honour fanned your face with her hand, her eyebrows furrowed together as you paced around the bridal suite of the beautiful wedding venue.

"Pull yourself together, for Christ's sake!" She replied through gritted teeth, grabbing your shoulder's and twisting you round to look at her. "It is your wedding day! I'm the one that's meant to be stressed out, I practically planned this whole thing. You're walking down that aisle, I will drag you down it by your hair if I have to!"

You closed your eyes, Cara's grip on your shoulders feeling like a tonne. Slowly, you sink to sit down on the floor, probably crumpling the skirt of your perfectly steamed white gown.

"I just-" you sigh "What if he runs? What if he realises I'm not what he wants?"

"Are you crazy?" Cara joins you on the floor, holding your clammy hand in hers. "He's probably just as nervous as you are, and I know that sounds bad considering what just came out your mouth, but that man loves you. He practically kisses the ground you walk on!" You let out a small chuckle at this, you know she's right.

"I'm serious!" Your friend continues. "For the last three years, that man has been hellbent on making you smile. He's like a man possessed, he has been ever since he saw you wearing that horrible Spiderman sweater in the café!"

That part was true. Almost immediately after Cara overheard Mickey say he'd loved to take you out, she stalked over, blurting out a quick "she's free tonight!" before grabbing the coffee out your hand and scuttling out the door.

"That works perfect" Mickey blushed shyly. "If you'll let me?" You remember blushing, and bashfully nodding. You were all jelly legs and a puddle of nerves when your doorbell rang at seven on the dot, looking up to see Mickey's vague silhouette through the fogged window of your front door. Since that day, he's never left your side. You've never opened a car door for yourself, never refilled your own water bottle at night, never spent a dime on a pair of shoes, because, no matter what, he's always two steps ahead, reading you like a book.

"Now come on" Cara said, heaving you up and smoothing out the tulle of your dress. "Let's go get you a husband!"

You were enjoying the peace and quiet of the café, hearing the nearby waves crash and fall through the open windows, and the delicious smell of pastries and espresso wafting around the room, the feeling of your husbands protective arm around your shoulder. He looked at you as if he had the stars and the moon in the palm of his hand, the universe glimmering in his eyes as he opened his mouth to say, what you already knew was, 'I love you'. That was, until, the bell above the door behind you rang and, quite frankly, the loudest gasp you've ever heard rings across the place, louder than the gasp Cara gave you when you showed her the huge rock on your finger when Mickey proposed.

"Fanboy?!" Mickey's eyes go wide next to you, and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. There was no specific reason Mickey kept his marriage a secret from his pilot friends, though he prefers the word 'private'. Not only did it spare him a whole lot of hassle at work, but it kept you free from the pressure of having to actually have to talk to new people. He knew your distaste for meeting new people, the whole 'What's your name? What's your favourite colour? What do you do for a living?" causing actual bile to rise in your throat at the thought of such boring conversation. So when you nervously requested that he not tell his co-workers about your marriage because, in your own words, "I'll have to meet them and then I wont be able to go out and do what I want", a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"Fanboy, that is you!" The voice repeated. "And...a girl, oooh!" Mickey turned around to see, who you had learned prior to be 'Hangman', Jake Seresin.

"He's nice" Mickey would say. "But he tries to fuck anything that is female, human, and has a pulse, so he's not going anywhere near you!"

"Hi, Hangman!" Mickey forces out, through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?" His arm falls off your shoulders as he disappears a few steps behind you to greet his friend.

"Getting coffee and a sweet treat, what else?" He laughs, and you can feel his eyes burning into your back. "And who is this?"

You were hoping he had forgotten you were there as you slowly shuffled further and further down the counter, pretending to peruse the pastries as to avoid any social interaction. Mickey and Jake appear next to you, a look in your husband's eyes that can only be interpretated as 'I'm sorry.'

"Uh- Jake, this is Y/N" Mickey says, holding his arm out in an almost jazz-hand manor, presenting you as if you were a finger painting a child was showing their mom.

Jake makes eye contact with the gold band on Mickey's finger before he makes eye contact with you, his eyebrows furrowing. He grabs your left hand, faster than light, inspecting the matching wedding band, the gold glimmering in the afternoon sun that beat through the window. He grabs Mickey's left wrist, holding your hands up next to each other as his eyes flick between them. Suddenly he drops them both as his eyes go wide and another yelp leaves his lips.

"Garcia, you're married?!" He looks like a proud dad.

"Hangman, please-" Mickey's practically starts begging, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, but is cut off by a boyish slap on the shoulder.

"I cannot believe this!" Jake laughs, throwing his head back, his free hand clutching his stomach. "How did I not realise this? What the actual fuck, have I died? Have I died and gone to hell? A world where Fanboy, of all people, has a girlfr- no, not girlfriend, a wife?!?"

Mickey chuckles with him, shaking his head and blushing. He pulls you into him. "Hangman, we keep this private for a reason, so please can we just keep this between us? As in, my wife and I go about as normal and you keep quiet?"

"Keep quiet? About this? No way, I can't, I've never kept a secret in my life!" Jake is practically squealing, who knew a grown man would be this thrilled over someone else's marriage. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself, I'm Hangman, my friends call me Jake, or daddy, depending on which friend's you're talkin' to, if ya catch my drift"

You shook his hand politely, a nervous smile on your face. "I'm Y/N, uh, nice to meet you"

"So this is why you didn't want anyone to know" Jake looks at Mickey knowingly, crossing his arms and squinting. Mickey raises an eyebrow and cocks his head in confusion. "What, dude, your wife's hot. Better keep her away from Rooster, don't worry, bud, your secrets safe with me."

And with that, Jake retreats out the café, not even ordering his coffee, or sweet treat.

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Your secret was not safe with him.

Later that evening, you were sat at The Hard Deck bar, where you and your husband were frequent flyers, no pun intended. Cara and yourself sat in the corner, nursing a drink each, catching up on the past few weeks, mainly talking about her upcoming wedding. Mickey was on the other side of the bar, pool cue in hand as he made eye contact with you, stealing a sly wink before turning back to his aviator friends.

"Earth to Y/N!" Cara says, waving a hand in front of your face. "God, I wander what would've happened if I never pointed him out to you at that café!"

You were interrupted by a thundering yell by the front door. "Guys!" Oh Christ. "Guys, Fanboy has a wife!"

"That wouldn't have happened, I can tell you that for certain" You rested your head in your hands, avoiding Jake's gaze like the plague before he inevitably would pull you over to the group. You sank further and further into your seat, practically merging with the chair as to avoid being spotted. As per usual, Cara was sat there with a hand slapped over her mouth, muffled laughter escaping through her palm.

"Fanboy has a what?!" The group yell back, almost in sync, as you make eye contact with Mickey who has his head down chuckling. He squeezed his eyes shut, nervously clamping his bottom lip with his teeth, desperately trying to drown out the thousands of questions being hurled his way.

"Since when?"

"Who is she?"

"Do we know her?"

"Is she here?"

"Guys, I think we should all give Mick his privacy, I mean, there's obviously a reason he hasn't said anything-"

"Shut it, Bob!"

"Tell us everything!"

With a nod of his head, you're rolling your eyes and dragging Cara along with you towards him. Your hand is clamped to Cara's, who's still regurgitating laughter behind you. Micky extends an arm as you get closer, putting the pool cue down to reach under his shirt and pull out his dog tags, a gold ring sitting on the chain.

"Jake!" You call out, playfully furrowing your brows at him. "That was supposed to be our little secret" Mickey's arm finds it's way behind your waist as he places a kiss to your temple, you're more than aware that his friends are looking at you, shock plastered across their faces.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Y/N" Jake said, theatrically wiping sweat off of his forehead, giving you a quick side hug as a greeting, despite only meeting him a mere four hours ago. "I just couldn't keep it in. Our little Fanboy has a wife!"

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[fastcardotmp3]

stobin on the run; ronance; background steddie; 1k words

After everything, after Vecna, after the Gates close, Robin is never quite able to let go of Starcourt.

None of them are, to a certain extent, but the particular way Robin Buckley clings to Russian conspiracies and the fear of what it would mean for her and her friends if they ever decided they weren't done with those kids who knew just a little too much, is actually dangerous.

She keeps an eye on things, learns Russian for real, never really lets go of the paranoia that any drink she doesn't make herself might be spiked, might be the one that takes her down long enough for her to end up in another cell with no windows and no hope for getting out.

It's dangerous because she's smart.

It's dangerous because of how damn close she gets.

When Agent Stinson shows up on her doorstep and tells her its not safe for her to remain where she is, living the life she's leading, her initial response is to tell her to go fuck herself. Robin hasn't been safe since 1985. Robin hasn't been safe since long before then either, given Steve's stories, given El's.

But the fact of the matter is she's something of a national security risk. The binders tucked under false bottomed drawers in her and Steve's apartment are borderline treasonous.

When Agent Stinson says, "you're not safe," she means from their own government as much as an enemy one, and that?

Well, that earns a different response.

It doesn't feel obvious to her that Steve would come with her when she runs.

He's built a life here in Indianapolis, a job he likes painting houses and a burgeoning relationship with the guy they both came to adore while waiting by his hospital bedside, but when she reflects upon this out loud he gets more angry than he's ever been.

Not loud, but mad all the same, that she'd ever presume to leave him behind when her life was in danger.

So Steve comes.

They're in Scotland first, the quickest flight they were able to get seats on after driving themselves to Canada, and then Italy for a while. They jump below the equator to Argentina and then even lower to Australia.

They see the world. They leave their lives behind. They leave their people too.

And it hurts. It hurts to be hunted by the government they've covered for their entire adult lives. It hurts because of how unsurprising it is.

It hurts to be lonely for no reason other than knowing too much.

It hurts enough to, one day, embrace the danger again.

One day isn't today.

One day isn't the day Nancy Wheeler's phone call doesn't get picked up.

At twenty-seven years old, Nancy has essentially spent a decade working in journalism.

At twenty-seven years old, she's deep into burnout over the frustration of impeding bureaucracy and she's talking with Robin on the phone every other day about how she's going to come join them in Indy and learn to paint or something instead.

She's talking with Robin on the phone every other day.

And then Robin doesn't pick up one afternoon.

And then she gets a call from Eddie.

Nancy resigns from her job at the Boston Globe the same day, hangs up her credentials, and makes that trip to Indy followed immediately by a trip to Hawkins because two of their friends are missing and in their experience? That can't mean anything good.

It becomes clear within a week that this isn't going to be an easy solve. A week of sleeping in her childhood bedroom and watching Eddie spiral and listening to Dustin and Erica go on tangent after tangent about all their various theories, hiding genuine terror underneath all their bickering.

It becomes clear in a month that this is going to require different skills than any of them have, and Nancy drives her car through the night to end up crashing in a bunker where she learns all the ins and outs of private investigation from a man with about twelve different identities should he need them.

Sam Owens went off the radar years ago.

Anyone who worked at Hawkins Lab all but doesn't exist anymore.

It's a hard fucking thing to solve and all the while Nancy carries those phone calls in her back pocket, because she knows Robin wouldn't just leave, not from the way they spoke with each other.

Robin laughed with Nancy.

She was so eager to share stories about her day that she would leave lengthy messages on Nancy's machine. She was so eager to hear Nancy's own stories that she would stay on the phone while making dinner at risk of burning the house down.

She spoke quiet and earnest into the dead hours of the night, the cresting of a rising sun. She told Nancy about everything they'd do when Nancy finally took a break from the job that was making her miserable and how they would find her something fun. Something just fun, Nance, I swear, we're gonna get you hobbies.

Robin wouldn't just leave.

But if she had to? If she had no other choice? Nancy knows Steve would go with her.

It takes three years in the end, and Nancy's half convinced the two of them got sloppy on purpose, caught back in the Americas with a trip to Mexico and a reused passport, and Nancy is dragging Eddie out of his head and onto a plane before she can fully explain that it's mostly a gut thing.

The trail she's been chasing? Seeing them in it even if they're not there? It's entirely a gut thing, which is why it's only Eddie she drags with her, it's only Murray she allows to know where they're going in case it goes wrong.

It's only her head she lets believe it, because she doesn't think her heart will survive another loss like this.

She dreams sometimes at night, of an amused voice teasing in her ear, tinny over the phone lines but so vastly real.

She lets her head believe it on the plane, on the cab ride, on the bus ride, on the walk down a long rural road out to a little house in the desert with a fence and a mailbox painted yellow.

She lets her head believe it when she watches the twitch of a curtain from inside.

She only lets her head believe it, and that's a lie she only realizes was a lie when Robin Buckley steps out onto the porch with Steve at her shoulder and the world stops.

Nancy Wheeler's knees almost give out from under her when those freckled cheeks plump up with the hint of a smile.

When she gets her arms around her, a hand across shaved down and dark-dyed hair, a word over the top about you're okay, you're okay, you're alive--

When Nancy breathes again, it's with the beat of a heart that knows it's not this easy.

But for a moment? She's dreaming in a lonely Boston apartment all over again.

For a moment, she's making plans.

She really does intend to stick to them this time.

[i-am-a-secret-ssshhh]

Actual thoughts I've had recently (none of these happened out loud):

*About an angry customer* Who pissed in your pickles?

Holy hot peppers banana man (and then I proceeded to question who banana man was)

Wow, I forget I'm legally an adult.... I should make a will

I feel a headache coming on *older brother gets home from work just moments later* there it is

When I go to hell, I hope they have therapy

*at my mom* You need therapy

If I had limitless power that could do anything, I'd probably just never work again. But, I'd also probably take over the world and fix everything, soooo

All my problems could be solved by truck-kun

*About something out of my control* Ah shoot, it's all my fault

"Does it come in black?" (My brother then told me to stop quoting batman)

Monday is the day of bullshit

There's no such thing as BEFORE AFTERNOON on a Sunday when it comes to waking up

I would probably sleep through the end of the world if I was comfy enough

Wow... I may have made a mistake....

*Waking up in IMMENSE pain* That's, not supposed to be happening. *never brings it up to anybody else*

I wonder if I have enough dexterity to knit with sewing needles and thread

I have been lied to, there was no water in the fridge of the break room. There's no water in the break room at all.

How are you both extremely nice and also a super bitch?

*About my phone* You, you, were at 100% 10 minutes ago and now you're at 96%. And I never took you off the fucking charger!

I risked it all for a picture in a video game (in baldur's gate 3)

God I hope no one records me, my resting bitch face will always betray me. And also I'm very judgemental, but that's besides the point.

I could just, not, keep my opinion to myself though, wouldn't that be much easier for everyone

I can't believe I'm going to be surviving entirely off junk food for 3 days. What bullshit.

*About a fictional older man* He could solve all my problems. (my best friend: No he could not. Me: A bitch can dream!)

I am the family disappointment. What a shocker.

Do you ever shut up?

I'm lonely, not desperate.

I feel like you shouldn't be telling me these things.

Why are you mad at me? You asked me to ask questions if I was confused! I needed clarification! I might be dumb, but I'd rather do it right after being unsure, than wrong confidently.

Don't... don't make me cry over an inanimate object in an anime. Please don't. My heart can't take it.

Like clockwork, every three months, I need a new phone charger. It's almost become a schedule.

A bitch slap would solve, all your problems, my dude. All of them.

God I hate kids. (this is a thought that happens often)

Man. If only you would schedule me. Then I could tell you, I can work more than you think I can

*Has a job* I need another job, this... this ain't it.

Wow, it's almost as if, you underestimate my ability to be responsible. Wow. Are you my mother?

I asked your opinion because I want your opinion, so give me your opinion GODDAMMIT.

How dare you forget my birthday is two weeks after yours? And how dare you insinuate I wouldn't make a cake between now and mom's birthday. That's almost insulting.

I'm just over it at this point.

You sure do talk a lot, but you don't really say much.

[shamrockqueen]

Father figure : Chapter 2

Pairing : Best Friend’s Dad Bucky x Reader

Warnings : Angst, Bad friends, Older man younger woman Dynamic, (age references removed and reader is recounting it as an adult)

Word count : 2167

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 link

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Things stayed quiet, but at least they kind of got better. It had been a week or two since you’d welcomed Becky and her family back into your life.

A pounding at your window around 12pm woke you from an already uncomfortable sleep. You looked over at the drawn curtains, waiting for the sound again.

A *Knock knock knock* at the window of your ground-floor bedroom.

You pushed out of bed, readjusting your messy t-shirt and shorts as you groggily walked to the curtains. You weren’t surprised to see Becky on the other side of the glass, her dark hair nearly blending in with the night.

She didn’t look very happy, and her frustration was even more evident when she tried to jerk open the locked window. It wasn’t a new sight to see an angry Becky trying to force her way into your room, a popular choice of hers for when she had been out doing something she shouldn’t have and needed a place to hide before absconding by midnight.

"Open up!" You could hear her through the glass before you finally unlocked the window and pulled it up, and she immediately crawled past you.

"You can’t be yelling this late at night; you're gonna to wake my mom up."

"Whatever!" She stomped towards your bed before throwing herself onto it and grappling at one of your teddy bears.

You have a huff before shutting the window and locking it again.

"What’s wrong?" You slumped back onto the other side of the bed as you tried to find what made her mad this time.

"It doesn’t fuckin matter." A classic Becky move, but you’d played this game before, and with enough prying, you’d get her to talk instead of sulking into one of your old teddy bears.

"Clearly it mattered to you because you were here at almost 1 in the morning instead of asleep."

"Shut up!" She turned and tossed the bear at you, clearly choosing to act more like a child than her actual age.

"Keep your voice down. You wake my mom up, and she’s gonna kick you out again." You seethed before throwing the stuffed animal back at her, only to miss and hit the wall beside the bed.

Becky dropped her arms from above her head to her sides, hitting the bed with a thump. "Everything’s just so stupid; it fucking sucks." She grumbled, but at least she made an effort to keep her voice down.

"What happened?" You ask tiredly, rubbing your eyes as you wait for an answer.

"I called my mom today." She answered meekly. Conversations with her mom often brought out the worst in her, making it unsurprising that she’d snuck out to blow off steam.

"What’d she say?" You asked worriedly, not waking to try to break the already weak foundation that Becky stood on.

"She said I couldn’t visit her this summer. She said that she and STUPID Mason and their STUPID kids already planned their vacation, and that she can’t just change her plans at the drop of a hat because I want her to."

You just laid beside her, silent in the dark, as a sob cut through the air, and you turned to see streaks of tears training down her face. Becky had such a complicated relationship with her mom, especially when she often thought she had to compete with a new family.

"Why do you want to visit her anyway? You hate the twins, and you hate your stepdad." You say this quietly as you sit up to look at your friend. "Every time you visit, you call me to tell me how snotty they are and how crappy they treat you."

He huffed a small laugh before answering, "I know, but…it’s just that she doesn’t call anymore. She doesn’t visit. She doesn't care." She hugged the pillow as her voice grew weaker.

"That can’t be true; all moms have to care at least a little. I mean, you're her kid; she can’t just forget about you." You always tried to reassure her, but her face just continued to fall.

"It feels like she’s trying to."

"You still have your dad." Your words rang in your ears just as you said them. The memory of that night is still heavy in your mind. Just the way his psyche must have shattered to propel him to do what he did made you shudder a little.

"There’s something wrong with him." Every word added a little more weight to your heavy heart as she spoke. You feared how much she really knew and who she would be mad at the most.

"What do you mean?" You didn’t turn to look at her as you spoke, not wanting her to catch a glimpse of guilt in your eyes, even in the dark.

"He’s just been acting really off lately, like…he won’t talk to me, and it just feels like he’s trying to avoid me now. Ever since that party, he’s just shut off."

You could feel your stomach knowing together as she spoke. You have a very good idea why he’s acting so uncomfortably, but it’s not something you could tell her.

"He just doesn’t want to see you get like that. I mean, he is your dad; stuff like that is going to upset him."

"It’s not the same. He’s never been this upset before. It’s like he’s shut down or something." Her eyes start to tear up as she continues, "Maybe this time I finally made him snap."

"No way. It just has to be a lot of stress on him."

"I don’t know. Something’s just wrong."

The crack in your nerves deepened painfully as she spoke. You knew very well what was wrong and why. Something was wrong, very wrong, and there was nothing you could do to fix it now. You just stared out at the ceiling, waiting for her to talk again.

Instead, she seemed to nod off before you found the ability to even find sleep. No, you were still so shaken by the new knowledge you had found that you lay there motionless instead.

A small light lit up beside you. A notification beaming out into your room from where Becky’s phone sat on your charger.

You leaned out of bed as your eyes adjusted to the new source of light to see Mr. Barnes’ picture blink across the screen as the silent call fell to Becky’s voicemail.

You look back at her and then back at the phone, just tapping the screen to see the number of messages her father left her.

She sneaks out a lot, but she more than often ends up sleeping off her night on your bedroom floor. This gave Mr. Barnes at least some peace of mind not to go running out into the night for his daughter, but he was still her father and had desperately tried reaching out to Becky.

The first few times Becky had snuck out, it had caused a lot of trouble, and he’d come speeding through the neighborhood trying to find her.

Now, he could easily drive by and spot her bike propped up against your mailbox, giving him some peace of mind to at least know she was somewhere safe.

You let her phone screen fade before letting your eyes readjust to the dark to find your phone next to hers. You unlock it and tap on your contacts icon to dig up her father’s number.

His contact photo lights up the screen. A happy photo from when he’d taken you and Becky out to see Jurassic Park. An undone blue button-up, a white tank top, and a pair of shades making him seem so much more striking than he was before. Even the loose bun that held together his once shoulder-length hair brought new definition to his smiling face; it made it seem like more and more of a shame that he’d since cut it short.

Shaking the thought away, you tuck your phone to your side before looking back at the still-sleeping Becky and slipping out of bed and snuck towards the door. Becky still snored on the other side of the room as you ducked into the hall and towards the bathroom.

The hallway is just as dark and more eerily quiet as you looked over at your mother’s room, which sat only a few feet in the other direction. You let your eyes fall on to the lightly colored wood, turned to a gray hue under the heavy blanket at night.

You quietly and carefully cross through to the bathroom before letting yourself lean onto the sink to take a quick and nervous breath. You pulled your phone from where you kept it clasped to your chest and tapped in your password to open it again. His picture lights up the screen once again before your thumb slides over the call button.

You held it to your ear as it rang for a spell. Each extra ring made your heart beat just a little slower as you waited for him to pick up the phone.

When the voicemail popped up, a heavy breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto escaped past your lips, and your heart sank into your stomach.

You ended the call without leaving a message, and you just leaned there before sitting back heavily onto the shaggy cloth toilet seat cover.

You took a few seconds before opening the phone back up and clicking the call button again.

The phone rang once, then twice…then it stopped abruptly, replaced by the sound of the other line being handled before a familiar voice filled the phone.

"Hey. Sorry, I uh…missed your call." You heard him take a deep breath before continuing with, "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I just wanted to let you know Becky’s here. She’s still asleep right now." You spoke in a whisper, making sure not to wake up anyone in the house.

"Oh, thank God. How long has she been there?"

"I think she came straight over. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner."

"No, it's fine. Thank you for letting me know." His voice didn’t seem fully relieved before he continued with, "D-did she tell you why she left?"

It was a question he hadn’t asked you before. He’d long since lost hope in understanding his daughter's misbehavior, but something in his voice seemed more fearful than before.

"I…um…just some drama with her mom, and…she." You almost couldn’t get the last few words out, as they choked up in your throat.

You stared at the tiled floor beneath your feet before finally finishing your sentence. "And she said that something seemed off. That you didn’t seem like yourself, I guess."

You could hear him swallow over the phone, taking a deep breath afterward before leaving an air of silence over the call.

"I am so sorry." He spoke so quietly that it almost couldn’t be heard over the phone. His voice was broken; it was so painful to hear it.

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Your throat seemed to just close up as your fingers tightened around the phone until it shook a little in your hand.

"I…I can try to get her home after school tomorrow, Mr. Barnes." It’s all you could think to say. Anything to avoid discussing what had happened, how it had made you feel, and what the consequences would be.

"That would be a great help, but I can take care of it. Thank you." There was still something off with his voice, like a deep crack forming on what was once unbreakable glass. "Just make sure she gets to school, alright?"

"Yes sir."

"Thank you; now just get some sleep, ok sweetheart?"

The term of endearment made your heavy heart flutter for a single second before you answered, "Okay, goodnight, sir." And the call ended with a quick click.

You hold your phone back to your chest as you take a shallow breath, remembering all that had transpired between you and Mr. Barnes. The memory still made you feel an odd but warm sensation along your body, as well as a deep ache at the thought of the same memory causing him misfortune.

A knock at the bathroom door startled you. Making you jump back and hit the tiled wall with the back of your head.

You panic and flush the empty toilet beside you, trying to create an alibi and not wanting either person in the house to know about your phone call.

You quickly tuck your phone into your shorts pocket, switch on the sink, and start washing your hands.

"Hurry up." Becky’s voice through the door made the terrible feeling in your stomach curdle even further.

Finally, you open the door to Becky’s tired face before she pushes past you with a grunted "gotta pee."

You speedily walk back to the bedroom as the bathroom door clicks shut behind her.

Chapter 3

[sunwarmed-ash]

Brothers- Tumblr exclusive snippet

Hank x Gavin x Connor (main fic ship) Hankvin scene

@sweeteatercat @tentoriumcerebelli Alright so I saw this scene the other day in my head so here you go haha it should be in the next chapter which is still taking foreeeeeeeeever to write itself

🔞,canonical violence, adult content

Since Connor left for work, Gavin and Hank haven't spoken a word to each other. Not as the result of a fight or anything, they were just- each lost in their own thoughts. Mostly about the tin man and the ongoing mystery of the party. Hank needed to talk. That was obvious by the fact he was currently hand washing their week’s worth of neglected dishes even though they have a perfectly functioning dishwasher. Don’t get him wrong, Gavin is glad he’s chosen hand washing dishes over Black Lamb and a revolver, but, well, now that Connor’s out for the night, maybe they can actually talk through some shit.  “Hey Hank, you good?” Gavin asks, knowing the answer well before its spoken. “Absolutely fucking not,” Hank huffs, tossing the sponge into the bath of warm bubbles before turning around, “I’m worried outta my fucking mind!” “Yeah, I know,” Gavin sighs, he gets it, he’s feeling it too. He’s been feeling it since Connor fleed the party then came back looking even more traumatized. Connor hasn't brought it up again. And neither have either of the humans. Til now. “Want a beer?”

Hank sighs and turns back to the sink to rinse suds off his hands. “Got any of that weed left?” Hank asks instead. Gavin’s eyes raise in surprise but he nods.  “Yeah, actually. Gimme a sec.” Hank nods.  “I’ll make us some coffee.” - The beginnings of their mutual high is just what the two of them needed. They haven't taken one second to prioritize self care over the past three weeks and the wear is evident.  This shared joint is doing the job wonderfully. Gavin can feel muscles in his body that have been tight for years finally relax.  They smoke in the shared silence in the kitchen until they finish their coffee.  They don't talk again until they move to the bedroom, and Hank says what they've both been thinking.  “We're not really gonna let that asshole get away with it, are we?”  “Which one?” Gavin asks. Because in reality they still don't know any additional details of Connor’s potential assault last night. And from what Connor exposed to Gavin, neither does he.  “Reynolds,” Hank answers, anger clenching his jaw tight and turning the end of the name into a hiss.   “Fuck no,” Gavin growls, “I got half a mind to finish what you started as soon as we get back. I know I’m a quicker draw.” “Gav,” Hank sighs and Gavin really doesn't know what Hank expected him to say.  “Come on Hank, you know he deserves it!” “He deserves to have his dick cut off and fed to him. But, well, there's a right way to do things and a wrong way. Revenge is the wrong way. Or so I’m supposed to believe.” “Yeah?” Gavin scoffs hatefully, “then what the fuck is Justice then?” Hank sighs, nodding his agreement.  “Restoring order, not, furthering chaos. It only makes shit worse.” Gavin snorts.  “I think you're going insane trying to be the civil, level headed monk you’ve had to be the last three weeks. That’s not you Hank. You may have convinced Connor but I’ve known you too damn long.” “You're right. Which is why I need your help to make sure we don't get caught.” “Fuck yeah, there he is,” Gavin chuckles before biting hungrily into Hank’s lower lip.  - Gavin really didn't expect the premeditated murder of a coworker to get them both worked up like this, but neither of them were particularly well adjusted individuals.  He's grateful for it, because Hank’s fucking him hard. Harder than they have in years. He’s seen Hank fuck Connor like this, but he has yet to have his own turn with this brand of Hank.  “Phck, come on,” Gavin gasps, holding onto their headboard for some illusion of stability as Hank gripped his hips harder and doubled down. “Hank…” Gavin begs, gaining only a warning bite into his neck for his trouble.  “Try again,” Hank says, licking over the wound before biting another claim into his throat.   Gavin swallows in a desperate attempt to get his breathing under control. In addition to Hank’s teeth that are driving him insane, Hank’s huge hand is wrapped around his cock now, the tip of his pointer finger running across the piercing and making Gavin delirious with pleasure.  “Daddy,” Gavin pants, fingers itching to touch but his throbbing throat reminds him he’s not in charge. “Phck- phck, please.” “There’s a good boy,” Hank growls and Gavin is warm putty in his hands. It never takes much. Hank Anderson has always been one of his biggest weaknesses. Hank’s other hand goes into his hair and grips it, yanking it back until Gavin’s back is flushed with his sweaty, hairy front.  “Phuuccck,” Gavin wheezes, “come on, I can take it, fuck me,” Gavin’s ass clenches hard around the thick muscle, taking pleasure in the fact Hank’s following moan is as strung out as he feels.  ”Yeah, you can. Always been able to. Almost like your ass was made for me.”  Each of Hank’s hands engulfs Gavin’s hips again. His only warning is a single squeeze before Hank angles Gavin’s hips where he wants and snaps into him.  Gavin chokes for more reasons than one.  “Maybe I was,” Gavin whispers before another series of thrusts have his tongue unable to form anything but moans.  “Yeah, maybe you were baby.”

I'm obsessed with Hankvin okay? I will not apologize.

follow me here #sinful sunday, and on ao3, I post new stuff every sunday!

buy me a kofi?

[shortpplfedup]

Rewatched the episode to organise my thoughts and I really wanted to share my understanding of the emotional journey Pat is going through this ep. I do feel, like @lurkingshan and @ginnymoonbeam in particular have been saying to me, that Pat's journey is sliiiiiiightly harder to follow, and it hinges on the conversation on two levels that he and Jeng have near the middle of the ep (which, more on that in a moment). Like always, this ep could have used a little nip/tuck, and maybe a montage to show the passage of time, but I'd like to present to you...

PAT'S EPISODE 9 EMOTIONS: A STORY

First movement: absolute cringe, totally embarrassed. He was drunk and weeping, hanging off his boss who had to answer his MOM's phone call and get him home. Said boss is also gay which...we're not processing that right now because it adds an entirely new cringe level.

Second movement: starts to think about the fact that JENG IS GAY AND ONLY JUST TOLD HIM which feels like maybe Jeng has been laughing at him a bit and messing him about. Because he thought they were bonding somewhat all this time but Jeng didn't share this when he knows Pat is also gay. Shoves the stuffie in the drawer because he feels betrayed.

Third movement: Here is where things get wibbly because time is clearly passing between the day after the bar and the day Pat's dad shows up, but we don't really understand how much. Pat is actively avoiding Jeng. Jeng is asking Chot where he is, Pat is taking (multiple?) days off...but no idea of when this falls in the timeline so hard to follow the throughline.

Fourth movement: Pat is back at work and clearly DEEP in his feelings, he has been stewing over this for who knows how long at this point (feels more weeks than days or months). Chot is noticing (and likely misunderstanding the source of the churn as a lovers' tiff rather than a not-lovers' tiff). He thought he wouldn't have to see Jeng because Chot is standing in for him at the screening but Jeng shows up and he kind of panics. So he's feeling embarrassed, a little betrayed and like Jeng has been toying with him.

Fifth movement: This is where they have the convo on two levels. I say that because Pat was clearly saying one thing while Jeng was hearing another. Pat is saying: 'stop doing these things because I can't say no when you're sweet to me.' Jeng is hearing: 'stop doing these things because I can't say no when you are my boss.' The language is deliberately vague, and the idea of two meanings could get lost, but the show makes it clear in the two follow up scenes where Jeng and Pat have separate vents about what's happening. Jeng is crying to Jaab that Pat only sees him as a coworker, while Pat is fuming to Jen that Jeng is playing with his feelings. Pat said 'I don't want to misunderstand' and Jeng said 'you're not misunderstanding' and Pat said 'no I must be misunderstanding because it don't even make sense, so leave me alone please.'

Sixth movement: Pat exposits those feelings of being toyed with to Jen, who is like 'solidarity sister, these brothers be doing that.'

Seventh movement: Chot tells Pat Jeng is quitting and that's when Pat starts to realise that maybe the man was Not Fucking Around, but the WHY ME? is strong because Pat is aware that Jeng is An Adult and he is The Hot Mess Express. Then the man plans him a damn birthday celebration but stays away like he asked.

Eighth movement: At this point, Pat is the SpongeBob crab meme. THERE IS JUST TOO MUCH HAPPENING AND HE CANNOT PROCESS IT HE HAS SOMEHOW GOTTEN LOST IN THE SAUCE. He breaks the fuck down and cries to his mommy and daddy, because it's all too much.

Ninth movement: Pat experiences the miracle of birth up close and fucking personal and like many of us cannot believe that a human can actually do that and what the fuck is he actually caught up about. His good sis MADE A PERSON IN THE STREET and then posted it on Instagram like it was light work, and he is skressed because a gay man likes him, another gay man.

Tenth movement: And then Pat gets home and said gay man has sent him a BOX of snacks just because he said he liked them once, and then sends him a text that basically says 'I LIKE YOU DUMMY, SO MUCH, BECAUSE YOU'RE YOU.'

Look, all I'm saying is my man Pat went on a journey ok?

[bellysoupset]

Alas! Finally the kitty fic:

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

It wasn't raining, it was pouring. Jonah winced as he looked out of the window, tugging on the sleeves of his sweater and walking across the room, so he could turn up the thermostat a little bit.

It was quite the uneventful Friday. Leo had court today, so he was late and hadn't texted, but Jon wasn't worried, since that was par for the course. He had done his clinic hours in the morning and then gone home, spending the rest of the evening fixing up the place.

Vince wasn't a super messy guy, but he wasn't extra neat either and he had been unable to move for a while. Now he was back in the dorms, despite Leo complaining it was silly not to stay another week, at least so he could remove the sling, but Vin was nothing if not a very proud guy.

So now he was gone and Jonah couldn't help but relax a little bit. He had liked having the guy around and liked helping his friend, feeling like his care actually was being translated into understandable, tangible acts, but he was also very relieved to have him gone. It was good to have home just to the two of them again.

Jonah huffed as he fished out a pair of Vin's socks from the washing machine and rolled his eyes, throwing it in the dryer alongside the rest of their clothes.

This was something else that was new. Doing laundry.

He used to simply send his clothes down, his fancy building had a laundry service and they sent up the clothes ironed and smelling amazing. Leo, though, was against them using it. In his own words "you're a fucking adult, just use your washing machine."

So they did laundry now, or at least everything except for Leo's suits and Jon's fussy shirts, because neither of them were about to iron those.

Jon was sorting the frozen meals - finally they could have lactose again - when the landline rang. No one ever phoned him home, ever, so he frowned and reached for it immediately.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Banks, hello. It's Matthew from the front desk," the older man said and Jonah raised his eyebrows as he wondered why the call. Certainly they hadn't received any packages past six o'clock when it was raining hell outside.

"Hi, Matthew," Jon frowned, "what's the matter?"

"I might be overstepping, sir," Matthew sounded a little fearful, "but Mr. Wagner's been sitting in his car in the garage for at least thirty minutes now and I'm a little concerned."

"How did-"

"The cameras, sir," Matthew explained and Jon nodded, realizing a minute later the man couldn't see him.

"You're not overstepping at all, Matthew, thank you for calling. I'm gonna go check on him, thanks."

"You're welcome, sir. Have a nice evening."

Jonah hung up and immediately went to retrieve his phone. There was no new text from Leo. Uh. Very weird.

He put his shoes back on and left the apartment, deciding to investigate.

True to what Matthew had said, Leo was sitting in his own car - a much older car, that Jonah generally despised with his whole being. The driver's door was open, one of Leo's legs hanging outside and the engine was off.

"Leo?" Jon asked, stepping closer and beyond confused, "baby, what are you doing sitting here?"

"Hey..." Leo sounded exhausted, but most importantly, his voice had a super soft characteristic that sent alarm bells through Jon. He moved closer to get a good look of his boyfriend and then frowned.

Leo was soaked wet. His suit, his tie, his hair, everything was a shade darker, as if he had jumped on the deep end of a pool instead of just catching some rain before getting in the car. His face was really pale.

"What the hell happ- What's that?" Jonah interrupted himself as he realized Leo was holding something to his chest.

"It's a kitty," Leo said softly, then sniffled grossly and Jon started to get the full situation. He ignored the cat and reached in, planting his hand to Leo's forehead. It was burning up.

"You have a fever, Leo," Jonah said flatly, "a high one, I'm guessing. Where did you get that thing?"

"Don't call him that," Leo scoffed, gently playing with one of the kitten's triangular ears, "he's so sweet-"

"Don't kiss that!" Jonah scolded as he watched, with a grimace, as his boyfriend planted a kiss on top of the animal's little head, "it's probably full of diseases!"

"Don't be mean," Leo scoffed, smoothing the cat's fur, "he was crying behind the courthouse, behind some boxes."

"I'm guessing you got yourself soaked trying to capture it?" Jonah rolled his eyes, "okay, baby, get out of the car. You need to get out of these wet clothes, they're probably freezing."

"He had no one," Leo whined, not moving as he continued to pet the cat, "he was all alone, there was no mom..."

"Okay, Leo," Jonah rolled his eyes, grabbing his arm and pulling him out, "we're gonna get that thing to a shelter, but first you need a hot shower-"

"Shelter?" Leo's blue eyes were sparkling with the fever, big on his face. He squeezed the cat closer to his chest, causing the little animal to meow and paw at his tie, "no shelter," he blinked quickly, "please, Jon, not a shelter..."

Jonah frowned. He knew this voice well enough now to know this was something deeper, a trigger just waiting for him to be dumb enough and pull it. Instead he shook his head, "Okay, no shelter. I'm sure someone at the hospital will love it-"

"I'm not giving him away" Leo scoffed, once again kissing the cat and causing Jonah to cringe in disgust, "look. at. him, Jon," he held the pet to Jon's face, "he's the cutest thing! And- And he was all alone! And he needed someone... He needs a family!"

"Okay..." Jonah cringed, ignoring the cat's pitiful face right under his chin, instead looking at his boyfriend, "baby, let's just go upstairs, alright?"

Leo nodded, hiccupping and causing Jon to frown as he slammed the door shut, "is your belly upset?"

"No, I'm just cold," he said, teeth chattering, "you like him, don't you?" he continued to pet the cat, "he's so cute."

Jonah rolled his eyes, "yeah, adorable," he pushed Leo towards the elevator, "when did this fever hit you?"

"I have a fever?" Leo asked, completely enthralled by the kitten in his arms, "I think he's not a stray, his spots look fancy."

"It's a cat, Leo," Jonah huffed, cupping his boyfriend's cheeks, "baby, when did you start feeling sick?"

"I'm not sick," Leo pushed his hand away, grabbing his wrist and forcing Jonah to pet the cat, "what should we name him?"

Jonah stared at it, unimpressed. He had never been a pet person, ever. Not even back when he was a kid, his mom used to keep fancy birds and his father had one hunting dog, but Jonah had kept his distance from both pets.

The kitten meowed, still busy playing with Leo's tie. It was a really small thing, with big blue eyes and white fur, with some dark beige spots all over it. It's nose was a dark brown triangle and yeah, it was alright.

"Leo, can you answer me, please?"

"What about?" Leo sniffled again, resting his head on Jon's shoulder and smiling at the kitten, "hi, babyyy..."

"When did you start feeling sick?" Jonah repeated the question, pressing his lips to the blonde's forehead. He was burning up.

"Uhm, I was feeling pretty crappy during court..." Leo's voice broke and he grimaced, pressing a fist to his mouth as he started to cough, "I guess-" he coughed again, startling the animal, that started to climb his suit jacket, "after lunch...? Hey, where are you going..."

Jonah glared as the cat tried to hook it's claws on his sweater, "get it off of me."

"He's not gonna hurt you, he's just exploring," Leo said, his voice a lot more scratchier, "c'mere, sweetheart..."

"Stop kissing this thing, Leo, you're gonna get mono or fucking toxoplasmosis from it."

"Toxo-what?" Leo chuckled, "the pregnant women thing?" he clearly found it amusing, as he snuggled closer to Jon, trying to steal his warmth, "he's not gonna make me sick, don't be silly."

"Sure," Jonah let out a sigh of relief as the elevator came to a stop, "okay... Give me the thing."

"You mean the kitty?" Leo pouted, holding it defensively.

"Yeah, you need to get in the shower, baby. You're freezing to death," Jonah made a face as he attempted to grab the cat so Leo could shower. The blonde jumped back, his shoes squishing water.

"You're not gonna get rid of him, are you?" he pouted, holding the kitten close to his heart, "I love him."

Jon scoffed, "took you months to say I love you to me, you prick," he said, trying once again to grab the kitten. The animal hissed at him and Leo immediately cooed.

"See, he knows you're trying to get rid of him," Leo glared at him, "I'm not gonna give you the kitty."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Leo!" Jonah exclaimed, moving faster and snatching the pet, only to be scratched. He dropped it, by accident and the kitten immediately ran from him, hiding under the couch, "ah, bloody hell-"

"Why would you do that!" Leo cried out, rushing to the couch, "he didn't do anything to you, stop being such a fucking grinch!" he dropped to all fours near the couch and reached out with a hand, saying softly "here pspspsp, c'mere sweetheart..."

Jonah stared at him, then back at his hand. Baby claws or not, the kitten had managed to break skin and left a little bloody cut on the back of his hand. He pinched his nose bridge, "Leo-"

"He's got no one!" Leo shouted at him, not even bothering to look his way, "and he needs us!"

"You're sick," Jonah sighed, rubbing his temple, "the fever is making you emotional. A pet is a big responsibility-"

"I'm not emotional," Leo scoffed, falling on his ass and glaring at him, "I've always wanted a pet. This is my home. He needs a family. We're keeping him."

Jonah's mouth dropped and he tried to come up with an argument - one that wasn't absolutely not - but instead he snapped it shut, "can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"No," Leo shook his head, then coughed in the crook of his elbow. Deep, chesty coughs that made Jonah want to step closer and rub his back, an instinct he fought valiantly and stood his ground. Leo rasped for breath and glared at him again, "no. I'm not budging on this, Jon. I want it."

"And I don't want it," Jonah frowned, but he could feel his own will quickly melting away. It was rare Leo was ever this adamant about something. Clearly this was important.

"I'm not gonna beg for it," Leo's voice was steel, rasp be damned.

Jon shook his head, "I don't want you to beg. I want us to talk..." he trailed off, then rolled his eyes as the cat slipped from under the couch and climbed between Leo's legs, sitting on his lap like a pocket sized leopard. It was a little bit cute, he conceded, "is this a deal breaker for you?"

"Yes," Leo's said strongly, although his shoulders dropped as he realized the battle won.

Jonah nodded, then glared at the cat, "we're not naming it something stupid like Snowball."

"Okay," Leo grinned.

"And it stays off the bedroom."

"Okay," Leo's smile only grew.

"And stop kissing that thing until we get it checked by a vet."

"Fine, done," Leo said happily, "can we go to a vet in the morning?"

"Sure," Jon rolled his eyes, "now give me the cat, you need a shower still."

"Be gentle with him," Leo said softly, picking up the cat and the quickly kissing it one last time, causing Jon to scowl at him, "couldn't help it."

"You're not kissing me," Jon scoffed, pointing the hallway and taking the kitten, "go wash up, I'll- I'll find a box for- For him."

"Look at it, Jon," Leo smiled, using the couch to pull himself up, "he's adorable."

"If you say so," Jonah looked down at the cat and yeah, it was a little fucking adorable, trying to climb his sweater and meowing pitifully, "shower, Leo."

"I'm going," Leo said, still with a huge smile on his face and a dreamy look on his glazed eyes, "I'm just... Just give me a second."

Jonah let out a huff and smiled, "you huge sap," he said, then petted the kitten behind it's ears, smiling when the animal snapped it's head, trying to nibble at his finger, "he's like a little leopard."

"Yeah," Leo's voice was dripping with sweetness, "a little Leo."

"Ugh," Jonah groaned at the joke, "you're so sick, you're delusional. Get out of here, Leo."

--------

When Leo woke up again, it was late. Really, slept-past-lunch type of late. He never woke up this late, years of waking up early for school and then even more early for football practice were ingrained in him.

He blamed it on the cold, that he definitely had. There was a dull ache in his head, no doubt toned down by the meds sitting on the bedside table that he did not remember taking. A box of tissues, already opened and half used. His throat burned when he swallowed.

"Fuck," he groaned, sitting up on the bed and then glancing to his side, in search of his boyfriend. Jon's side of the bed was made, sheets fitted and blankets smoothed up.

Leo pouted, getting out of the bed and swaying on his feet. He put on a pullover that was lumpy and ugly to stop the shivering and then walked into the bathroom to wash his face... He was halfway brushing his teeth when last night hit him, just as he his old clothes in the laundry basket under the sink.

The cat!

He spat in the sink and washed his mouth as quickly as he could, then ran out of the bathroom, "Jon? Where's the cat?" Leo called, getting out of the room and power walking to the kitchen, "Jonah?"

Nothing but silence answered him. Jonah wasn't home and clearly neither was the cat.

"Nononono," Leo chanted, refusing to believe Jon would simply get rid of the little kitten while he slept. He checked the laundry room, then under the couch and inside the guest room, a series of coughs wrecking through him and causing his eyes to burn. There was a tight knot in his throat.

Jonah wouldn't get rid of the cat, right?

Leo let out a shuddering breath and fell on his ass next to the guest room's bed, leaning on his knees. He blamed the sudden wetness in his eyes on the low grade fever and sniffled pitifully, this simply wasn't right.

The front door opened and he heard a rustle, then Jon's voice "Leo? You awake?"

Rubbing angrily at his eyes, Leo swallowed against the choked up knot in his throat and walked out of the room, "where were you?"

"Lots of places, Sleeping Beauty," Jonah grinned, dropping his car keys on the table next to the door and a bag filled with medicine, "stopped by the pharmacy, got you some decent meds... Leo?"

"Where's the cat?" he frowned, crossing his arms. He still expected Jon to smile and say Surprise!, "Jon, where did you take him?"

"Her," Jon rolled his eyes, "it wasn't a boy," he shook his head, "she's a little drowsy, lots of adventures."

He stepped out of the door and into the hallway again and Leo could've cried with how happy he was as his boyfriend returned with a beige carrier.

"Meet JD Wagner Banks," Jonah smiled, fishing the cat out of the carrier and handing her to him. True to what he said, she was all sleepy and boneless, "they gave her a drug cocktail, so she's a bit out of it."

"J... JD?" Leo said in the smallest voice, eyes burning again as he took the kitten and held her to his chest, "what does it stand for...?"

"Jasmine Dean," Jonah looked very proud of himself, "JD for short... Oh you hate it," he grimaced as Leo let out a whimper.

"No, I don't, I- You gave her your family's J...?" Leo was doing a piss poor job of hiding how moved he was, "I thought you had gotten rid of her."

Jon pouted, stepping closer, "I wouldn't. Not while you slept, Leo, c'mon," he groaned, leaning in to kiss him, "give me some credit."

"I know," Leo sniffled, "I'm just- It was stupid, I'm sorry. I love you... I love her name too."

"Yeah?" Jonah smiled into the kiss, "good, because we can't change it now."

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

66 with shaymien please

number 66 on the spreadsheet is from this list of prompts the prompt you generated in specific is: drawing circles and patterns on their chest

linked on ao3 || read under the cut || 6.3k, rated E

summary:

[ Tweet from Damien Haas @DamienHaas on Dec 7, 2023 at 6:27pm reading: "Hey y'all, I know it's a streaming night, but I've been a very lucky fellow with some really cool stuff going on this week and am therefore extremely tired. Think it's best I listen to my (actually kinda dizzy at this point) body and sit this one out. 😬👍" ] || or, shayne comes to check on damien.

Check your front door. It's a text from Shayne, so honestly, it's not as weird as it could be. He's just standing in his kitchen and trying to make himself focus for long enough to make himself something actually good to eat and not just order takeout for the third time this week, so it's not like the front door checking is interrupting anything important. Still, he takes his time making it through the apartment, not rushing in the hopes of not aggravating his already irritated joints. This always happens when he doesn't sleep enough. He overdoes it and then his body tells him all about it like he wasn't there the whole time. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

It's never easy to remind himself that he's just an animal. That he's doing his best. He pulls open the door to something he does not expect for some reason, like Shayne's mother-henning ass hasn't always been like this. Virgo man motherfucker. Psychology degree asshole. Damien hates how warm and cared for the hovering always makes him feel, how it makes him feel so close to something that he still doesn't know how to ask Shayne for, even as long as they've been friends.

He leans against the door frame, tired but as happy to see Shayne as he always is. "What are you doing here, Shayne?" he asks, not really harsh but not as nice a tone he would typically take with Shayne either. Guilt immediately stirs in Damien's stomach, but Shayne just pushes past him, not lingering on it in the slightest. He has two grocery bags hanging off his arm like a middle aged mother of three, his hip cocked out when he turns around to look at Damien completing the image. There's a moment of silent communication, Shayne looking at him with that irritating (incredible, incandescent, inspiring) optimism and Damien looking back with fatigue dripping from every piece and part of him.

"Dude, I'm sorry, but if you say on fucking Twitter that you're so tired you're dizzy, me not coming over is not how this is going to go down," Shayne says, shrugging his shoulders. He claps his hands together once and moves through Damien's apartment like he owns the place, no regard for whether Damien actually intended for him to stay or not. Something warm sits in Damien's chest at his insistence, but really, he can handle himself. It's been a good little while since he and Shayne lived together, and he's been totally fine. Mostly fine. Adequately fine.

He's gotten medicated and he thinks that's a good start.

"Shayne, you know I'm a grown up, right?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as he follows his best friend into the kitchen, watching as he pulls groceries out of the two bags he brought in. This bastard. Shayne stacks comfort food after comfort food of Damien Haas onto the counter, almost exactly what Damien would have bought if he had energy to go to the store earlier. There are even some things he would have forgotten or just missed, little candies and a drink and a bag of chips that he loves but never would have occurred to him, but Shayne picked them out for him anyway. Embarrassingly enough, tears prick at the corners of Damien's eyes. Maybe he isn't as grown up as he thought; adults cry, adults cry, adults cry. When he sniffs, unable to help it, Shayne looks over from his bounty with concern.

"Hey, hey, bud, come here," he says gently, pulling Damien into his arms and rubbing his back soothingly. Damien can't fucking help it. He clings to Shayne and just starts sobbing, not really upset but just so fucking tired. He feels like a toddler, crying just because he's overwhelmed, but Shayne is just pulling him closer, making soothing sounds as he guides Damien over to his own couch. He's suddenly but viscerally glad that he has the apartment alone for the night. Shayne seeing him in this condition is bad enough, but anyone on this goddamn planet who isn't Shayne Robert Topp? So much fucking worse. Shayne has seen him through a twelve hour flight to Tokyo, through every bad phase he's had in his adult life, through struggle and thriving and everything between. Now, he cards his fingers through Damien's hair, sitting back against one of the arms of the couch with Damien so close he's almost in his lap.

"'m sorry," he says, muffled against Shayne's t-shirt. Shayne wraps his arms around him a little tighter, pulls him a little closer, and it's so fucking nice. Like how dogs with anxiety are given thunder vests. The thought startles a raspy giggle out of him, a sound like laughter went through the dishwasher.

"No need to be sorry," Shayne says, hands firm on Damien's back. "You should tell me what's funny, though. Letting me in on the joke always makes you feel a little better," he jokes, but honestly? It's true. A joke can be great, but it will always be better followed by Shayne's laughter. Even in public, he can't help the way he looks to make sure that Shayne laughs at things he says, can't help but tune his humor exactly to his best friend's tastes. They typically have a fairly similar sense of humor anyway, but there are some jokes he would never make without Shayne in the room, just because he knows that he could save it and make his best friend laugh so hard he cries. And that's awesome. Unlike the way that Damien is crying into his shoulder right now. Totally not awesome. He does this a lot, extracting himself from the situation mentally so that he can view it through a detached, analytical lens. His therapist says it's fairly typical for autistic adults. Still, Damien's body does not agree with the lack of attention that he'd like to give it. He makes himself fully tune back into Shayne.

"You're my thunder vest," he says nonsensically; it startles some giggles from Shayne anyway, a cute little snort too. Shayne is already being so nice to him, he shouldn't fuck it up by thinking of him like that. That's something that he's pushed down his entire adult life, he can push it down again now. Repress, reframe, repeat.

"Are you a Pomeranian having an anxiety attack?" Shayne asks, voice shot through with that tender humor, that tone he takes when he's trying to make Damien laugh for his own sake rather than for humor itself. He huffs a laugh against the side of Shayne's neck, hiding his face. He can feel himself returning to equilibrium, thankfully not lingering in that teary, fragile place that he can get stuck in sometimes. Mostly when he's overwhelmed. Shayne helps with that, though. Thunder vest.

"Nah, just a really tired dude. Pressure's still nice, though," Damien says, snuggling deeper against his best friend. Shayne rests a warm, steady hand on the back of his neck.

"You wanna get in bed with your weighted blanket and I'll come sit with you after I make you a little snack?" he suggests, making it abundantly clear that Damien's choice on the matter will be whatever they're doing tonight. They hadn't even planned to hang out tonight. Shayne is so ready to throw away his entire evening for this. For him. Damien makes a protesting noise.

"You're comfy," he says, his words so close to a whine that he's a little embarrassed. Shayne chuckles, the hand on the back of Damien's neck squeezing for just a second.

"What, you want me to come lay down with you?" Shayne asks, and it's obvious that he's joking, that this is a bit, but does Damien want that? Absolutely. He wants to be in bed with Shayne, he wants the comfort of Shayne holding him, he wants to fall asleep with Shayne's arms around him. He must tense, or flinch, or something, too tired to keep himself in check and masked, because Shayne pulls him up by the back of his neck, hauling him up just enough to look him in the eye. Still, Damien avoids eye contact. Shayne dips his head, just looking at Damien for a moment. "We can do that, you know. Nothing's stopping us," he says, still so fucking gentle, so quiet it's practically a whisper. Damien still can't make eye contact with him, gaze resting on the calming blue of Shayne's shirt. Everything about Shayne is calming to him. He just wishes he didn't need him so much.

"You don't have to," he says, fist balled in the bottom of Shayne's shirt. Shayne hums, smoothing a hand over his back.

"Well, I don't really have to do much of anything, but you've never been something I had to do, Damien," he says, brushing his lips over Damien's temple before he starts pushing him up, manipulating him physically to move if he can't do so verbally. A wet laugh cracks out of Damien as he gives into the direction, standing and offering a hand to Shayne to help him do the same. Shayne takes the help, keeping their hands linked as he leads Damien to his own bedroom, as if this isn't an apartment Damien could traverse with his fucking eyes closed. He follows anyway, because he would follow Shayne anywhere, and isn't that the truest thing about him, that dedication he's had to his best friend for his entire adult life. He and Shayne have been defined in relation to one another so many times over their years together, and while with most people, Damien minds, in this, he's settled. He's so fucking tired. He really does close his eyes for a long second before they reach his doorway.

"You don't have to," he repeats softly. Shayne turns to look at him, not releasing his hand but just looking at Damien, reading his face and his body language, reading all of these signs he knows better than anyone Damien's ever known. He lifts his free hand to Damien's face, palm warm against his cheek. Damien can't help leaning into it.

"I want to," Shayne says softly, sounding more like a reminder than anything, and really, it is. He knows that Shayne loves him. He knows that Shayne cares. He knows that Shayne wouldn't be here if Shayne didn't want to be, that it's always one hundred percent easier to do nothing than it is to do something, but still. Shayne's hand moves to the back of his neck. "How do you wanna do this, Dames? Your circus, your monkeys," he says; Damien snorts, unlacing their fingers to push at Shayne's chest. He stumbles back a little, the dramatic shithead, grinning at Damien as he sits on the edge of the bed. God, he cannot fucking look up at him like that. Sleepy eyed and ridiculously fond, Damien scratches his nails through the hair at the nape of Shayne's neck.

He clears his throat. It's never been easy to ask for what he wants. Shayne's hands are steady on his hips, too comforting for words. "Can I, um," he starts, stopping himself to clear his throat again. Shayne pulls on him a little, not enough to knock him at all, but enough to keep him in the moment. Damien's not sure he knows how to be anywhere else. "I wanna lay on your chest, dude. Is that, like. Is that cool?" he asks, his speech stunted and apparently his emotions too, fuck. Shayne's smile gets wider before it gets softer- he knows the look of Shayne Topp choosing kindness, and this is one of those times. Shayne lets go of him and lays back, kicking off his jeans before he's scooting up to the head of the bed and looking at Damien for his next cue. He looks pretty against Damien's pillows. Impatient with his hesitation, Shayne reaches for him.

"Come on, man, lay on me, let's do this," he says. Damien can't help laughing, tension breaking as he rids himself of his pants and kneels on the edge of the bed, lowering himself down over Shayne carefully. Shayne pulls at him, quick and confident where Damien's slow and hesitant, always compensating for one another whether they mean to or not. Damien curls his fingers in Shayne's shirt, the fabric soft between his fingers. Pulling Damien's weighted blanket over them, Shayne shuffles a bit til Damien is pulled close against his side, finally settling when their legs are slotted together, Damien's knee between his own. Between the warmth of Shayne beneath him and the weight of his blanket across his shoulders, Damien is probably the most comfortable he's been in weeks if not months if not years. He presses his face into Shayne's shoulder.

"Thank you," he says quietly, unable to make himself louder but needing to say it anyway. Shayne's arm tightens around his lower back briefly. Damien occupies himself drawing shapes on Shayne's chest, circles and patterns and just feeling the warmth there, feeling Shayne's heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

"Any time, Deem," Shayne whispers back, rubbing his hand across the small of Damien's back, rucking up his shirt a bit. Damien doesn't even mind the slight discomfort of the bunched fabric for the way Shayne's hand on his skin makes him feel. He doesn't know how to describe it, the absolute safety he feels with Shayne holding him like this and the undercurrent of electricity that flows through it, how the safety and the fog of attraction do not argue with one another in the slightest, but rather make Damien drowsy and comfortable, secure where he lay. He doesn't fall asleep immediately, rather floating in this comfortable place where the sound of Shayne's breathing is the only noise he needs. The fingers of his free hand have trailed just a bit under Shayne's shirt at the jut of his hip. His face hidden, his senses tuned almost completely out. He doesn't even recognize the comfortable arousal for what it is, pooling at the base of his spine.

He doesn't realize he's essentially dry humping his best friend until he's already doing it, and he couldn't say for sure how long he's been doing it, really. Fuck. Shayne catches him by the hip when Damien freezes, holding him in place. Damien's heart nearly stops in his chest. Leaning back a bit to face the music of this actually able to see one another's face, he starts to try to pull back even more, equal parts not wanting to make Shayne uncomfortable and sure he already has. He's held in place with a firmer grip.

"No, can I-" Shayne starts, big blue eyes looking up at Damien with so many emotions it's like a kaleidoscope of sky and sea. "I wanna take care of you," he murmurs, sliding his hand back up the back of Damien's shirt. It's only with the touch of skin on skin that Damien even understands what he's saying, blinking rapidly. Oh. Oh? Oh. Damien clears his throat, gaze locked somewhere to the left of Shayne's face.

"You really do not have to do that," Damien says, too afraid that this is just another thing that Shayne would be willing to do for him but not strong enough to tell him no outright. Shayne's hand is on his jaw again. Fuck.

"I really want to," he breathes, kissing Damien softly on the mouth. If they were younger, maybe this would have been a surprise. Maybe he would have freaked out and shot out of bed and not spoken to Shayne for a couple of days, maybe if they were younger, he would press Shayne into the mattress and take care of this himself, but. They're older now, and even if neither of them really feel fully grown, the growing they have done has been with each other in mind, and Damien relaxes into Shayne so reflexively, so naturally. There's something about your best friend that will always make you feel safe with your heart in their hands. Their kiss is gentle and slow, Shayne's hand holding him steady and Damien's eyes close, safe. It's so fucking safe. The hand on his back pulls Damien forward a bit, just enough to rock his pelvis against his best friend's hip and holy fuck.

"Shayne," he says raggedly, breaking the kiss to hide his face in Shayne's shoulder. Shayne guides him forward again, Damien going willingly this time. He can't help the soft whine that tears itself out of his throat at the new contact, desperate to rut against Shayne's hip til he cums, but too embarrassed to just... reach out and take what Shayne is offering. When Shayne next speaks, his mouth close to Damien's ear, the deep rumble of his voice makes him shudder.

"Go ahead, Dames. Come on," he urges him, pulling Damien to roll his hips forward again; Damien sinks his teeth into Shayne's shoulder through his shirt, not really a choice but an instinct, a desire he simply cannot push down. Shayne gives him a pleased little noise, not quite a moan and not a hum either, really. He encourages Damien forward again, pulling him in like getting Damien off is just as good for him as it is for Damien himself. Damien resettles the weight of his hips, making himself more able to grind his thigh against Shayne's crotch. The other man keens, high and clear, and there's no way Damien can keep going under these conditions.

"Dude, you're gonna make me cum both touching me and sounding like that," he teases, lazy grin pressed against Shayne's skin.

"Are you sure? I could finger you open, fuck you to sleep," Shayne offers, his surely lascivious smile painting the words even dirtier than they are. Damien groans, even his arousal tinted with laughter when it's with Shayne. Holy shit.

"Jesus fucking Christ, yeah, we're definitely doing that at some point in the future, but I don't know if-" he cuts himself off, not really sure why he doesn't want to, but just that he doesn't. He's looking up at him when Shayne's expression softens and he busses a kiss across Damien's temple, pulling him forward gently again. He kisses Damien's head again, hands so careful on his skin, like Damien is delicate, like Damien is precious. He rolls his hips slow, almost tentative, like Damien wasn't the one who started this. Damien's fingers curl in Shayne's shirt; Shayne pushes him up a bit for a second, whipping off his shirt before pulling Damien back down. Immediately overwhelmed by all of the freshly available skin, Damien does the first thing that comes to mind: again, he bites. The muscle of Shayne's peck is fucking satisfying between his teeth, the noise Shayne makes even more so. Even as tired as he is, desperation pulls at Damien, not just to feel good himself but to make Shayne feel good, to be the reason his boy makes those noises.

"Oh fuck, good. Good, Dames. Take what you need," Shayne coaxes him. Heat shoots through Damien at the praise, the encouragement, all of it. He wasn't even really aware that was something he liked partners to give him, really. Praise has never been high on the priority list. From Shayne, it makes pre-cum spill into his boxers. He ruts against Shayne til his breath comes short, Shayne's hand firm on the back of his neck. So turned on, and sleepy, and comfortable, and safe, Damien trails his fingers beneath the waistband of Shayne's, pausing for long enough to look him in the eye.

"Can I?" he asks. His voice breaks a little, lust shot through it. Shayne hums, pulling off his own boxers and then raising an eyebrow at Damien, fingers hooked in to take Damien's off as well. Damien nods, and Shayne follows through immediately, such is his nature. He guides Damien out of his shirt as well, quick and efficient. He's never known Shayne to disappoint him, to take any more time than was needed. With that said, he doesn't expect a calloused hand to wrap around his cock immediately, thumbing over the head with practiced ease.

"Jesus, baby boy," Damien says, halfway between a gasp and a whimper, embarrassing if Damien gave a single fuck right now at this moment with his cock leaking in Shayne's hand, feeling so good and calm and taken care of that there are tears pricking at his eyes again. Shayne cups the back of his head, fingernails scratching through Damien's hair a little harder than before, enough to make Damien press into it.

"You sound so pretty, Deem. Come on, baby. Take what you need. You're doing so good," Shayne praises, coaxing and encouraging and so, so sweet. Affection drips from him like making Damien cum is just another way to take care of him, and maybe it is. Maybe all they've been doing for years is taking care of one another, maybe Damien loves Shayne more than he's ever loved anybody in his life, maybe Shayne is so deeply beneath his skin that Damien doesn't know where he ends and Shayne begins. Damien drops his head to lean against Shayne's collarbone, hot breath fanning across Shayne's chest is as he thrusts into Shayne's hand, shivers rolling down his spine in droves.

"Shayne," he says brokenly, his voice coming more ragged by the second. Shayne lets go of his dick and Damien can't help the whine that follows, though it turns quickly into a moan as Shayne pulls at him, encouraging him to continue rubbing off against his best friend. The syrupy pleasure of it makes Damien's head feel more thick with sleep rather than lessening its hold on him. Still, he grinds down against Shayne as well, never a selfish lover, but Shayne redirects his motion.

"I'll take care of me later, okay? Let me take care of you right now," he whispers, fingers carding through Damien's hair. Damien blinks down at him, head tilted toward the side and motion stopping all together. "You're tired, Deem. You'll get a chance to touch me, but this is about you. Let me make this about you, okay?" he requests, and how can Damien deny him anything? He tucks his face against Shayne's throat and rolls his hips, obediently losing any and all focus to the sensation of thrusting against Shayne's skin. Shayne's nails dig into his scalp a little harder, reflexive, and Damien bites down on Shayne's shoulder, reactionary. A soft, pleased noise falls from Shayne's mouth and then there's a kiss pressed to Damien's hair, that one spot of innocent affection in the middle of all of this sex and friction sending Damien right off that deep end.

He knows that Shayne is praising him and rubbing his back, hands careful on his skin, but Damien feels a million miles away. Love, love, love beats a tattoo in his chest, overwhelming and cosmic, so overwhelming in fact that it rolls back around to feel like the most natural thing in the world. He pulls Shayne in for a desperate kiss, starting to get a little bit overstimulated but not enough to stop, not enough to know better. Even coming down from the high of cumming on his best friend, Damien knows that this was not the solution to making him more able to actually get to sleep. The need to touch Shayne is buzzing beneath his skin, thick and heavy, obvious and reckless, and Damien presses down onto Shayne with a gentle kiss to his mouth, enthusiastic but careful. Shayne sighs against his mouth, lacing his fingers in Damien's hair. Damien gives him another kiss, but ultimately pulls back to look at Shayne's face.

Shayne tries to push himself back to get up, but Damien grabs onto him, not entirely on purpose but not really an accident either. Shayne raises an eyebrow at him. "I want-" he stumbles over his words, unable to make himself just be honest, even when Shayne so obviously just wants to make him happy. He pushes his face into Shayne's shoulder, sure that the other man is getting impatient with him, but Shayne just cups his face, pulling him in to give him such a fucking gentle look.

"What do you want, Dames? Anything you want," Shayne promises softly, not breaking eye contact with Damien. He can feel his face going red, and he knows that he's flustered and embarrassed, but it's what he wants. He wants to be able to tell Shayne what he wants. He clears his throat.

"Can we, um. I've thought about something, like. A lot. Like at least once every time we've ever sat on a bed together maybe, a lot," he says, finally able to externalize some of it but still unable to look Shayne in the eye for more than a split second at a time. "I'm exhausted. But keyed up. So I'm probably not going to be able to sleep yet so," he pauses again, distracted as Shayne's fingers card through his hair. Though, that's probably just an excuse. "When you're sitting back against the headboard of a bed, reading or what the fuck ever it is that you do," he says as if he's not the most informed person on what the fuck Shayne does at all times, "I want to put my head in your lap. And. Your dick in my mouth. And. Suck your dick but like slow? I'm explaining this really badly, dude."

"Baby, that's called cockwarming, and we can definitely do that," Shayne says with a grin, his eyes practically sparkling as he looks up at Damien.

"Oh, he knows the word for it," Damien teases, happy to be back in the sphere where he and Shayne tease each other. He wants the sex, and he even wants the romance if Shayne wants it too, but he doesn't want either if their friendship would be the collateral. Shayne smiles back, kissing Damien's cheek as he pulls himself to sit back against the headboard as referenced. He leans over to grab the book he had left on Damien's bedside table last time he was in here. That probably should have been something of an indicator shouldn't it be? When was the last time a friend who isn't Shayne was in his room, let alone leaving their belongings in it? He knows that if he looked around, he'd only be able to find more of Shayne's belongings, certain things he owns that neither he nor Shayne are sure of the origin of anymore, and all of that is far too overwhelming to think too much about right at this moment, sleepy and finally getting something he's wanted a long, long time.

"Ian was into researching BDSM for a while, I got caught in the infodump," Shayne clarifies a few beats late, casual. Damien squints up at him.

"Never say Ian's name when I'm about to suck your dick ever again," he says, wrinkling his nose for dramatic effect. It doesn't occur to him that he's just assumed this is going to become part of their relationship, not a one time affair, until after it's already come out of his mouth. He doesn't even have time to start spilling apologies in a deluge, conscious of being presumptuous, because Shayne just raises an eyebrow at him, hands holding and stroking Damien's face between them. The affectionate attention makes it easier to relax, Damien's blinks coming slower, his somewhat elevated heartbeat coming back down from the high. Shayne gives a breathless little chuckle, adorable, and Damien can't help the open adoration he looks up at him with.

"You just said his name when you're about to suck my dick, so really, equal offense," he says, rubbing his thumb over Damien's bottom lip. It presses just a bit and Damien drops his mouth open, allowing the digit to rest on his tongue. It's not what Damien wants, but it still feels far too soon when Shayne pulls it out.

"Shayne." It comes out as a whine, Damien's patience running thin when all he wants it right in front of him and he just... needs Shayne to tell him to actually do it. For some reason. Consent maybe? He's already expressed being okay with this, but it still feels like Damien should wait. Shayne smiles down at him, his expression soft as he runs his fingers through Damien's hair. He guides Damien forward and down, gentle as he controls the pace at which Damien takes him down his throat. That is what he wanted. Everything's already gaining a fuzzy softness, all of his senses tuning down to this one sensation, this one thing. One of Shayne's hands stays resting heavy at the nape of his neck, the other moved to genuinely read his fucking book. He doesn't think this is weird. He doesn't think Damien is weird for wanting this. He's just reading his book. He lets go of a tension he didn't realize he was keeping, his shoulders dropping and a slow breath blown out through his nose. Shayne's nails are dull scratching through the hair beneath them.

"Good, Dames. You're so pretty like this. All sweet and relaxed. So good for me," Shayne murmurs. Damien closes his eyes, swallowing around Shayne's cock reflexively. Shayne's fingers flex in his hair. There's a sweet little gray space that Damien wasn't aware existed in his mind; it envelopes him now, warm and calm, the world only lit by the lamp at his bedside and the world itself small, centered in his best friend's lap. Everything is smaller like this. Calmer. His eyes slide shut. Damien couldn't even hazard a guess as to how long they stay like that, how long he lays between Shayne's knees rapturous, at peace. Shayne's always been his safe place to land. This feels so much like an extension of that idea that he isn't sure what they had been doing in the first place.

Shayne starts reading to him somewhere in the middle of the book, at no specific marker in the story or in the passage of time that Damien can puzzle out. He doesn't want to attribute it to the fact that Damien had been getting somewhat restless, hands bracing Shayne's lower back and nails digging into his skin every once in a while. The sounds of his voice is soothing; it's some old Russian classic, maybe, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky or maybe Chekhov. He's seen the book probably a hundred times, but past registering that it was Shayne's, he hasn't really looked at it much. For this, he's glad that he never picked the book up. The characters' stories mean absolutely nothing to him because he doesn't know who Kostya and Kitty even are, let alone what they're doing, so his thoughts aren't getting snagged on trying to follow the story.

It's just Shayne. He's getting sleepy again, but he doesn't want to go to sleep without making Shayne cum. It's not even the theoretical idea of reciprocation. He knows without discussion that Shayne wouldn't hold it against Damien if he wanted to go to sleep right now. He just wants Shayne's cum in his mouth, really. He swallows around the cock in his mouth, bobbing his head just once before waiting for Shayne's response. Shayne hums, fingers flexing in his hair again before he removes his hand entirely. When Damien opens his eyes to look up at him, Shayne is putting a bookmark in his book, setting it back on the bedside table before returning his gaze to Damien, his hand following quickly to cup Damien's jaw. Damien leans into it but doesn't pull off. Shayne hums again.

"Getting sleepy again?" he asks softly, thumb stroking over Damien's cheekbone. It's barely even a question, really, so Damien just swallows around his dick as a response, figuring it will communicate enough of a message to get his point across. To Shayne, at least. Anybody else and Damien would never have gotten here in the first place, but especially he wouldn't have gotten here in so few words. "You wanna get me off before going to sleep, huh?" his companion asks, this one even less of a question than the one before, but Damien hums in agreement anyway. Shayne chuckles, not something that Damien can actually physically feel, but still enough to make his heart flutter in his chest. The weight of approval is heavy on his shoulders, comforting. Weighted blanket. Shayne strokes his fingers through Damien's hair. "Go ahead, baby."

It's the third time that Shayne has called him that. He's surprised by how much he likes it.

He clears his mind by coming most of the way off of Shayne's dick, playing with the head with his tongue in slow, broad strokes. Shayne groans, his head listing back against the wall above the headboard. Damien digs his tongue into his slit and drops down, taking Shayne all the way down to the root in one fluid movement. Shayne's fingers are laced in his hair again, loose fist just barely pulling. Damien hums, reaching a hand up to press on the one on his head. Shayne grips his hair tighter, pulling tentatively and then much more confidently as it brings embarrassing noises from Damien's throat. The weight of Shayne in his mouth is only made better when Shayne's hips twitch up, just a little bit of pressure on Damien's head keeping him in place as Shayne hits the back of his throat. The sensation makes him choke a little, but it's fucking hot too, Shayne losing that little bit of control to the heat of Damien's mouth enough to have him whining and moaning, desperate to please. Fuck.

"You're so fucking good for me. Gonna make me cum, Dames," Shayne breathes out, a warning that only makes Damien redouble his efforts. Shayne grabs the back of his head, holding Damien in place as he thrusts up into Damien's mouth once, twice, three times before he's shooting hot down Damien's throat. Damien groans and holds Shayne and his cum in his mouth for a second, not wanting to give up the feeling yet. Shayne's fingers stroke through his hair, gentle again, and he did not need to know that this is a way Shayne can be in bed. Certainly not on their first time. This hot and cold of gentle and rough is making him actually dizzy now, not even hyperbolically dizzy but dizzy, in the best way possible.  Once he's sufficiently calmed, he swallows down the cum, pulling off of Shayne's dick. Shayne pulls him up and kisses him on the mouth before the taste is off Damien's tongue, pulling him in to taste it for himself.

"Thank you," Damien says as he pulls away from the kiss, not exactly sure what he's thanking him for but grateful all the same. His nose is pressed against Shayne's collarbone, knees on either side of the other man's hips. Shayne pulls him even closer, dropping kisses across Damien's shoulder chastely.

"You did so good, Dames. Love you. Love you so much," Shayne repeats before gentle kisses, his words so comfortable that it doesn't even reek of confidence, but rather a sense of being at ease. He wouldn't be able to count how many times he's heard those words come out of Shayne's mouth, and this time is no different than all the rest, really. Maybe they're doing different things now, loving each other another way, but the love he feels for Shayne? That's been star bright and distracting in the corner of his version for nearly his entire adult life. That's his best friend. Everything else is window dressing.

"Love you," he whispers, lips brushing against the skin of Shayne's throat. Shayne presses another kiss to his skin before leaning over to grab a wet wipe from Damien's bedside table; of course he knows where Damien keeps his fucking wet wipes. Have a chronic nosebleed thing and suddenly a guy knows where you keep the stuff you use to clean up blood. Now, there's an air of reverence to Shayne as he wipes away the cum on Damien's stomach, on his own hip, and when he catches Damien looking at him during his perfunctory sweep over Damien's cock, he grins, closing his hand around Damien loosely. He chuckles when Damien lists against his collarbone, a whimper small but detectable coming from the back of his throat. He finishes wiping both of them off and throws the wet wipe into the trash. Damien catches his mouth in a quick kiss. Well, it was intended to be quick, but Shayne is as thorough in this as he is in everything else. Damien can't help grinning as he peppers kissing on Shayne's face, giggles pouring out of both of them. Shayne slips a hand in his hair and holds Damien still, just looking at him.

"I love you," he says again, kissing Damien just once before pulling back again. "Food or sleep, baby? If you just wanna take a nap, I can set an alarm," Shayne offers, shrugging his shoulders. Damien hums, leaning forward to kiss him, kiss him, kiss him again and again. The taste of Shayne's smile beneath his tongue is the sweetest thing to ever cross Damien's lips. Besotted doesn't even begin to cover it. He feels like he's floating. He feels the most settled he's ever been.

"Snacks and blankets in the living room? A movie, maybe?" Damien suggests, resting his temple against Shayne's as they breathe one another's air. Shayne hums in the affirmative, another kiss gentle on Damien's mouth.

"Anything you want, Dames. Anything you want."

[seth-burroughs]

mdarc chapter 1 rewatch part 3, and yes, i am aware of the massive pile of asks i have on all my blogs however as always i shall keep running. no don't stop sending them i absolutely appreciate the attention its just i need to mentally prepare two weeks in advance and cry in order to give a sufficient response. you should give it a try and converse with yours truly again some more if the thought of torturing and killing me slowly sounds fun and exciting to you👍

oh look its the child extortion scene

you would think halara, who's got all that trauma from having their family get scammed and destroyed by a friend* they trusted as a child, would be just a tiny bit less comfortable with swindling kids out of their money rn but like you know that's just my thoughts......

they're Reclaiming it <3

*listen. like i know i can't be the only one that thinks that way, but so far so many people ive seen that played this game just went through this gab and thought "oh wow a middle schooler just scammed them that is so crazy lmao", and like. i was under the impression that halara was the one in middle school the entire time, and their "best friend" was just some adult con artist that gained Halara's trust (or just flat out groomed them, honestly) so they could scam their parents. like, you do know this interpretation makes infinitely more sense than... very nefarious 12 year old manipulator investment scamming adults or whatever

has nobody already made a halara "fuck them kids" joke or do i gotta pull out that art program again

this child is like fucking what, five?? literally crying what is your PROBLEM halara...... halara i don't even think he understands half of whatever you're saying to him right now.....................

they didn't even give it back to kei they just tossed it over to yuma???????? lmao?????????

still. they're so fucking cool. i'm giving them the highest honor i can bestow (narcissistic personality disorder and massive autism)

AH WAIT I FORGOT WE ACTUALLY INVESTIGATE SHIT IN THIS GAME OOOOoooooh. ooooooooooh.

i forgot to read the report by the way

*points at jiei colan* SYMMETRY TOOL LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

oh holy shit wait canon age??? jiei is 48??? ok now that is information i am going to blast into my mind permanently and not like. anything slightly more important

casual fatphobia jumpscare

pink blood scene *nods solemnly*

holy shit i know exactly who the culprit is you wont believe it. im so fucking smart. im a genius im a fucking god fondle my nuts while you blow me

i can already feel seth approaching rapidly because my eyes are getting teary and my chest is doing really funny stuff right now. the sense went off

once he arrives i will keep a list of "memorable and beautiful things seth has done in all his 4 scenes" as well as "memorable and beautiful things desuhiko has done in the entire game or perhaps his life" and then compare once we finish. wish me luck

chapter 1 >>>>>>>>>> every other fucking chapter. i am going to kill a man on this hill

THERE HE COMES .

I'm twitching like hell right now. my muscles yearn for the burroughs

UUAAAAAIIIIIGIHUGFFYDFUUUUUGHGHHHHGAAAAAAAAAAGHUSYDGHSDUUUUUHHHHHHHHGGHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! H H

HE HIS STUPID FUCKIDGFG WALK

take that rain cape off you fucking coward this is kanai ward. noticed his lil fox symbol on his back and got reminded of wackpedion's religious seth post but im not gonna look for it now. but yeah he's 100% metal fox church guy i told you this chapter got layerssss to it. this is cinema. video games lore have peaked at rain code chapter 1. scott cawthon has been really silent ever since rain code chapter 1 dropped

his face. its heeehhhhere. i am going tocommit vehicular manslaughter. and ask him why is his skin fucking gray

holy motherfucker I TOTALLY forgot how his japanese voice sounds. he sounds. slightly more normal actually. less pathetic if that was possible. its like he still has hope. help me he sounds so young

i like how. he just calmly extremely quietly tells them to stand up while standing like 20 feet away from them and knowing his voice usually doesn't reach above 30db. like he just stands there mumbling to them to plss get up now knowing they probably can't hear him. he jsut. gives it a try. maybe this time

maybe he's trying to awaken his telepathic abilities.

omg god a charlie radiohead wackpedion oc cameo???? i can't believe that wiki let spike chunsoft put charlie in their game in order to help increase sales it is so cool how they support smaller creators like that once again

that cunty stance. who stands like that.

its not fucking on. how did you notice its not fucking on. or did he just did but tried regardless. dead silence.

truly, a flattering introduction

and he. wasn't even that fucking mad he just gave him a very dissapointed look to go and fix that. which makes me think it has happened before. and numerous times

finally, seth has succeeded. you know whats crazy about that scene?? the peacekeepers were knocked out a solid while ago thats gonna be at least 15, if not just 20 entire minutes. realistically if youre uncounscious for that much time (and im pretty sure halara whacked them on the head) then you're gonna be concussed as fuck perhaps even have serious brain injuries (and im pretty sure halara whacked them on the head HARD) like youre not gonna be ok after this. his voice literally healed them. he commanded them to rise and so they did. combined with the blatant christian themes of rain code (makoto is satan. martina's motorcycle is the ark) the answer is obvious seth is jesus where was i going with this again

seth is so fucking chill its unbelievable. its the fourth time something has happened to him this moment, megaphone guy fucked up the fucking volume and he just. takes a few steps back motions with his arms and doesn't even say anything. if that were yomi he'd just bring out the whip. if that were martina she'd verbally abuse them so fucking hard they would not be able to look her in the eye ever again in their lives. if that were guillaume she'd start screeching at dominic to decapitate that man

i am going to look away whenever they mention Bodies Rotting Quickly In Kanai Ward from now on. i shall not. it is not worth it.

megaphone guy cringe moment

i would say something about the entire "public execution" moment but i think i already said enough before. so.

goodbye seth you absolutely fucking SLAYED it

[yesyourstalker]

Neta: mahi help me with the frosty fest decorations. Hand me a ladder.

Mahi: so...... Uh.... How was your holiday? Was it.... Was it uhh nice?

Neta: yeah it was just cirrina and I this year. I made lobster dinner with herb butter.

Mahi: That sounds good

Neta: it was kind of rubbery. I'm not that much of a cook. Ikkan went to Krillarney and with his brother. He said it was nice but didn't go into full detail. How about you?

Mahi: ehhhhh I went to Warabi's house for dinner he also took Baja with him. Usually it's just something that we do, just the two of us but you know it's fine........I don't care if he wants to add someone else to our tradition. It's whatever. I used to have dinner with my grandpa..... Before...... Before he passed away.

Neta: oh yeah... I remember, I'm so sorry. Can you hold the ladder? Got a thing this stupid thing up..

Mahi: Yeah my grandfather was pretty great. He was really cool he used to be an admiral in the military.

Neta: That's interesting I'm actually a captain now. I've been a captain for years. I'm just getting my uniform in badges. I don't understand what took him so long to contact-

Mahi: HOW DO YOU KNOW MY GRANDPA BEHI!!!

Neta: wah!- Ah! ...FUCK!... ahhhh my back!! Cod damn it!! Why is it always me?!!

_______________________________________________

Doctor: You have a herniated disc. The good news is you don't need surgery. All you need is at least 6 days of bed rest and maybe a heating pad and you should be fine. Here's your prescription for anti-inflammatories.

Neta: great. That's fantastic.

Cirrina: we should sue them! They almost killed you

Mahi: If I wanted to kill him I would have done it already. A little twerp.

Cirrina: shut up!!! My dad's in the hospital because of you!!

Neta: ok ok Iets not fight. Cirrina don't be so aggressive to Mahi and Mahi calm down alright Don't yell at my daughter. Also you can't kill me.

Mahi:..................

Neta: second off cirrina crab cakes. Take my wallet, go to the vending machine and get whatever you want okay and to talk to my employee for a second.

Cirrina: ok daddy

Neta:................... So... Mahi..... Let's talk about your grandfather.

Mahi: can I just say that I'm sorry. I wasn't holding the ladder correctly and I didn't catch you when you fell. But I'm being honest........ If I did catch you I would be the one in the hospital bed because you're two times bigger than me and you're getting kind of fat. Which is good!!! because you used to look scrawny as fuck! Any way you would of crushed me.

Neta: ...........................you didn't need to add the fat part but ok . Cod you're blunt.....*sigh*....... So the old man is your grandpa. Hehehe small world.

Mahi: yeah. So....... How do you know him?

Neta: He used to visit me all the time in the E ward... Used to talk to me, bring me gifts..........just visit me and was there when I needed him. More than any adult in my life at the time.

_______________________________________________

Behi: morning Cora I'm just here to visit Neta

Nurse: just in time too. Damn kid been acting out all week, throwing his meal replacement, fighting nurse when he gets cleaned, we can't take him to group therapy anymore. For a kid who can barely speak full sentences he's becoming a problem.

Behi: let me see what I can do. He's in his room?

Nurse: yeah he knocked out right now. Since his father visited he's become a pain

Behi: let me see what I can do *knock knock* Neta. You up? hey son what's- woah hey what's with the hostile welcome! I thought you liked the cushion.

Neta:............*huff*..... Leave

Behi: no. I don't think I'm going to do that, sit down. Can you tell me what happened? What's got you acting like this?

Neta:.....................................

Behi: not talking I see. Well Neta you should know this by now that these people are here to help you. And they can't help you if you push them away and lash out. You know that.

Neta:................................

Behi:.......................................

Neta:.........................

Behi: If you can't tell me what's wrong, can you at least tell me how I can fix what's wrong?

Neta:..................*sniff*.......*crying*

Behi: ok. Ok, come here kid.....

Neta: *sobbing*....... I don't want to be here!! He was supposed to take me home but he left me!! *Sobbing* I hate him! I hate him! I FUCKING HATE HIM!

Behi:.................

Neta: *sobbing*

Behi: *sigh*..............

_______________________________________________

Mahi: are you sure you want to drive?

Neta: Mahi I've seen you drive before I already have one hospital bill, I don't need another one.

Cirrina: I can drive?

Mahi: in total my car? no!

Cirrina: Your car is already totaled It looks like you got it out of the junkyard!

Neta: can you please stop fighting. I'm trying to drive uhhh oh back.

Neta: sorry Neta

_______________________________________________

Neta: home sweet home. Ok....... Mahi can you unlock my door? Thank you. Cupcakes go to my room in the closet. They're the purple blanket. It's a heated one. Take it out, put it on the couch and turn it on. Put it on setting 4

Cirrina: ok

Neta: ok...... Now Mahi set me down slowly.

Mahi:like this?

Neta: yes.......*sigh*....... Thank you, crab cakes.......... Mahi sit down, make yourself at home...... I would say but you probably already did considering you have broken into my apartment...........multiple times.......... I'm not going to pretend that I don't notice missing mugs and my vinyl collection is out of alphabetical order

Mahi: ok Baja did that. I just wanted to see my grandpa's medals.

Neta: Oh you want to see your grandfather's stuff?.... It's upstairs. I'm not going up. I think I'm just going to be sleeping on the couch....

Mahi: Yeah I already saw them. It's pretty cool that he was kind of like your grandpa too right.

Neta: mmmmm Yeah he was........ Can you do me a favor?

Mahi: Yeah

Neta: I need you to go to my fridge on the top shelf there's brownies wrapped in plastic wrap. Give me one brownie. just one.

Mahi: All right. Can I have one?

Neta: you broke into my apartment. You almost break my back and then you want one of my weed brownies. no!

Mahi:.........

Neta: you can get half

Mhai: yes........ Hey boss?

Neta: yeah

Mahi: you have another picture of..... My grandpa

Neta: hmmm there's a photo book in the TV stand..... might be one in that book.

Mahi:..................... A lot of baby pictures..............

Neta: That's my little Cici. Isn't she cute?

Mahi: no................. I found him........ He looks so young, Looks like me. Hehehe...

Neta: take it. It's yours.

_______________________________________________

Mahi: I'm home! Warabi I'm-.......... What are you doing?

Baja: oh hey Mahi

Mahi: what are you doing in my bed?

Baja: well you see since you weren't here I didn't have to sleep on the floor and Warabi offered me a space-

Mahi: get out of the bed

Baja: ok

Warabi: mahi where the fuck were you?

Mahi: in the hospital

Warabi: what happened? Why were you in the hospital?

Mahi: Neta fell off a ladder and hurt his back and then we got high anyway.... Can you get a picture frame?

Warabi:...........Ok.... The shit you get yourself into mahi

Mahi yay Mahi's there @fish-at-fish-fish-resort

[the-nysh]

Started watching Mob Psycho 100. About 5 episodes in and yeah, I get why this show is so popular. It's good, even real good, so far. Mob is a good protagonist and the animation has been really impressive.

I also recently started reading One Punch Man and it's fine. I like the art and every now and again it gives me a chuckle. But ultimately I think OPM has a fairly conservative world view that makes me hard to enjoy it as anything more than easy fluff. It's all about the power of the individual and has some really questionable class politics in places. I know it's not intended for a deep read, but I can't help it. I'm glad I'm reading it through the library instead of buying individual volumes. I think I'm like 21 volumes into it.

Back to MP100, I'm still early so I can't say for sure yet, but I feel like it is the better written and realized of the two. I'm a sucker for the monster-of-the-week style format and so far it has been nailing while also developing the characters pretty well.

I gotta say, I'm impressed. I'm usually pretty cautious around checking out popular things since I tend to not enjoy them. So far that's not the case here.

Hmm...I'd say this is probably something better shared on your own blog, especially after I recently discussed how people reading opm at face value while writing it off as shallow fluff is a very unfortunate thing. (There's also no need to sporadically check it thru the library, likely with the dumbed down viz translations mis-marketing it as 'safe' for 12yr olds, when the entire fan archive exists. Also season one is there if you prefer watching.)

Because if you are armed with the knowledge of mp100, then you should be able to recognize ONE's exact same themes within opm, just explored and addressed from the other side of the spectrum. Mp100 just happens to be more straightforward and obvious about it since it's a shonen. But you have to look closer in opm (which is a seinen) - think about why ONE would be presenting some very fucked up things thru the levity and ironic lens of Saitama's pov. Because I guarantee you ONE's not 'supporting' those things you listed. The importance of human connections, emotions, and meaningful relationships in a crapsack world on the brink of humanity's very extinction cannot be understated; thinking that means 'individual power above all else' is the complete opposite of what the story's actually about. Because time and again, power isn't everything, and more often than not, it comes with the monkey's paw curse of being not what the character(s) thought they wanted.

So these are adult characters, dealing and fumbling with adult problems such as ennui, burnout, depression, disillusionment, alienation, emptiness, and loneliness in a hostile world where it's a daily struggle to even live. Where suffering and increasing monsterization go hand in hand. Now think about how this might be very relevant and closely resonate with adult readers struggling thru the very same things. :O Who see opm's characters as some of their biggest healing comforts. (And personally, this is why I prefer opm for its adult cast.) So you can have preferences too and choose to read opm at face value, but at most you're only getting about 30% of the story enjoyment out of it that way. I'd say continue to enjoy mp100, but don't let that hastily affect your judgment in writing off opm's merits either. :'D