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yaut-jaknowit · 13 days

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Hiya! Was wondering about a bad blood that takes a woman from earth but she's fine with it? He expected more fighting from her but is pleased. Not sure how you feel about soulmates but maybe he's been drawn to her for awhile and finally just took her?

Are We Meant To Be? Part 2

Pairings: Cew’voc (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2995

Summary: So much time has passed since you last saw that mysterious figure. He saved you then abandoned you. You had discovered he was your soulmate too late. When all hope was lost, he comes back to you. Is it too late?

Author Note: Okay, I know this isn't entirely what you were asking for. But, I hope it's still okay. If not, let me know and I do another for you. I wanted to use this as an excuse to write a part two for this story.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1

All the years since that faithful day offered no relief. Since then, you’ve had your ups and downs. From ending up jobless and homeless, you were able to barely bounce back to a decent life. It wasn’t normal. It would never be normal again. Not without what you saw that night. Who or whatever that creature was… he was yours. As much as you were his. Two souls destined for one another.

The reminder made your heart ache. You gritted your teeth and rubbed the heel of your hand over your sternum. Some of your co-workers gave you a puzzled look before shaking their heads and going back to their business. You cleared your throat before squaring your shoulders to face the lobby and customers all over again.

A pain that’ll be with you till the end of time. You were used to it.

Twelve hours in the building was an average shift. It was the minimum you needed to work five days a week just to make do.

From living an average, normal life, meeting what had to be your soulmate had ruined everything. Despite the longing to see him, just a glimpse every so often, there was no chance. He abandoned you. It was unheard of. Usually soulmates for the first time they meet each other can’t leave each other. Some say its physical and others say its emotional. But to break apart within even the first day was beyond cruel. It’ll leave someone, yourself, broken and hollow.

That’s exactly what you are. A shell of the person you used to be. Now, here you were, a beggar for any change, even a penny. It could mean the difference between having a roof over your head or being homeless.

No one wanted you. Not even someone destined to be with you until you died.

The plates in your hand wobbled precariously. Your attention returned to your surroundings only to watch the four plates you had been carrying slip off of your arms. They came crashing down onto the ground. The porcelain shattering into tiny pieces at your aching feet. Food smears across the ground.

In the moments after that, you could only look down at the mess you’ve created. Your shoulders slumped. There was gasps that sounded through the lobby of the diner you worked out. But, you heard nothing. Stuck in your own world again while all you could do was look at the disaster at your feet.

This was it. Your last straw that broke the camel’s back. It seemed like you couldn’t hold down a job anymore. The pains in your chest only growing worse with the passing time. No one understood. This didn’t happen. Worst of all, it’s not like you had any insurance to work with. There was no help. All you did was suffer through the pain.

Over the white noise in your ears, you heard your name shouted at the top of someone’s lungs. Avery. Your boss. She came stopping around to stand in front of you with a heated glare in her eye. You simply lifted your head to look at her, dead and emotionless.

Her gaze flickered for a moment but returned to steel. One of her hands whipped out to point towards the door. “Get the fuck out of my establishment. You’re fucking useless,” she bit out with a ferocity you didn’t know she had. You blinked at her before finally picking up your feet and making your way to the door. Not even clocking out or taking off your apron.

There you had done it again. Lost another job. Useless. Just like she said. You couldn’t do anything right. Not even your own soulmate wanted to stay with you.

The concrete was harsh on your knees despite the jeans you were wearing. You had collapsed in the middle of the sidewalk. No one gave you a second glance; only giving you a look of disgust and going on their way. A broken sob left your chapped lips. The world around you closing in. You tilted your head backwards to gaze at the darkening sky.

It wasn’t long before day morphed into night. Sometime during the transition you had pulled yourself up and meandered along the path set in front of you. It was random and leading you further and further from the dingy apartment called home. The city you resided in offered nothing of relief. It allowed you to stay on a decently lit path through the side of town you resided in.

In your heart, something tugged you to stop. Your head finally picking up to find the street deserted. You had walked so far that not even those brave enough would venture out. A whine built in the back of your throat. This was pointless. Now, you were somehow lost. Your head tilted back to look at the dark sky. There was little to no stars that would dot the night sky. “What am I doing?” Your voice was hoarse. It lacked the warmth it had years ago.

All the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. The muscles that lined your back tightened. Your breath caught, body prepared for the worst while your mind hoped for the best. But, your luck has shown you how well that’ll go.

You neck creaked while it turned towards the dark alleyway. Nothing could be seen down the endless path. Either it turned off or ended towards the end.

A loud thump echoed off the walls. Your entire boy turned towards the entrance. The soft clicks of something entered the air. Your brows furrowed while you tried to deter was creating that noise. In your careless state and defense, you weren’t of sound mind. There was one thing in the world that would solve all of your issues.

It wasn’t here.

At the crest of the entrance, you eventually spotted the silhouette of a humanoid figure. Oh, not again. You took a couple of stumbling steps away and nearly fell over your own two feet. It seemed your lucky wasn’t the greatest.

Light shined off metal. Faster than a blink of an eye, your throat was snatched. Your back was pressed to a firm, hot surface. Humid heat washed over the top of your head and ran down the back of your neck. A shutter ran its course. The muscles in your body only tensing more.

Yet, in this moment, after everything that’s happened after four years… you didn’t care. Not any more.

Sharp clicks and growls vibrated into your ear. The firm grip around your throat tightened only fraction. “Mi-ne.” A voice growled that it could be felt in your bones. The declaration strong and firm.

A voice you recoginized. Your hands instantly go to the one holding you in place. Try as you may, you couldn’t tilt your head far enough back to look at the figure. But, the lack of an ache in your chest only solidified your thoughts.

This had to be him.

As your mouth opened to speak words he deserved, his free hand pressed something into your mouth. Two fingers coaxed you to swallow dryly whatever he had placed on your tongue. His palm still covered the lower portion of your face. You tried to speak and began to fight him. Anger filled your veins at not only past action, but his current ones now.

When the hands left you, you believed there was a chance for escape. Your entire body whipped around to face the towering creature. Only, for you to sway from the sudden, unwise move. Strong, capable hands grasped your shoulders before you could slam into the ground. A haze took over your mind and left you unstable.

The ground left the bottom of your feet. Then, you were hoisted onto a thick, muscular shoulder that dug into your waist and belly. The move caused you to wheeze and grab onto the a fish net like material that covered at least his toned back. “Let me go!” you screamed at the top of your lungs then began to beat on his back with clenched fists.

He takes it. Without complaint. The humanoid figure spins on his heel and lets the darkness engulf him again. Your cried for help and desperate attempt for freedom begins to fade. Whatever he forced you to ingest was starting to take effect already. Your movements turned sluggish. Every beat was weaker than the last.

“I… hate you,” was what you could say before the darkness consumed you. Your body falling limp on his shoulder.

Warmth. Comfort. Those were the first two things to greet you when your consciousness finally decided to wake up. A soft blanket swaddled your entire form and kept you safe from the lurking monsters. A groan left your lips. You squirmed in the swaddled you’ve been placed in until it loosened.

It took a monstrous amount of strength to open your eyes and blink away the fatigue sitting in your bones. What greeted you made you believe the night still claimed you.

Metal from ceiling to floor made up the room you were in. The blankets on your shoulders slipped off when you sat up to fully take in the space. Your jaw dropped. Five skulls were line on the wall behind you. All were creatures you didn’t recognize. You gulped and kept taking in the room. Weapons decorated some parts of the wall. A bean bag like chair was shoved into one corner. A fur like blanket draped over it.

That’s when you realize the blankets you had been covered with are fur from an unknown creature. You shuttered to think of all the death that was proudly displayed in here. Why… why would he take you in here? Surely, it wasn’t to kill you? No. Your head shook in the negative. He wasn’t. He would’ve already done that if so. Plus, something in your heart told you he wouldn’t harm you.

You were in the process of shuffling to your knees when the door slid open. The entire room filled with tension. It was him. Face still covered a metal mask.

He doesn’t move. The two of you engage into a staring contest.

Thoughts were running wild in your mind. From the last time you had saw him, there had been slight changes. Mainly scars. He was already adorned in them and proudly presenting them. But, more had been added to his collection. A nasty looking one started from an inch above his right collarbone and descended with small jags mostly downwards.

All of them… made him look good, despite not seeing his face yet.

Your first move was to tug the blanket tighter around you, like some sort of shield. He wasn’t terrifying. Not an ounce of fear in your heart at the sight of his towering form.

But, you were nervous, unsure of the whole situation. The most of all. You were angry. Four years. It’s taken him four years to come back into your life and decide you were worth something after all. Tears pooled in your eyes at the thought.

A glare set over your features. You sat back down on your butt and looked away from him. The creature doesn’t deserve your attention, let alone a second of your time. For all you could care, you were going to completely ignore him until he gives up. Let him feel the pain of being abandoned by the one you thought was supposed to your other half.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched at the mustard yellow figure stalked forward. Your ears strained to listen to each step as he made his way towards you. You strengthened your walls. The beast stopped at the edge of the mattress and gazed down at your figure. Then, he gingerly sat down a couple of feet away from you.

His scaly hand reached out timidly. A move you observed closely. When he got in range, you swatted at the approaching limp. The creature snatched his hand back and made an offended noise. You didn’t need to see his eyes to know he was looking at you as if you had grown a second head. To go against someone three times your mass was obviously stupid. Yet, here you were, protecting yourself from his touch in what could be taken in an aggressive matter.

Except, he held back and took the sign completely. The figure bowed his head. “I-I kn-ow… you are u-pset.” It sounded like he was struggling to speak English. Not as it’s a language he does not know, but like his mouth and throat can’t make the sounds well. “I have reasons. I-it shouldn’t b-e possi-ble. Can’t be.”

If his words were meant to be soothing he was doing the opposite. You hugged your knees tighter with a scoff and a roll of your eyes. You wanted to ask him the reasoning but felt like that would give him too much attention. Despite what your soul wanted since it finally get’s to see your other half again after so long.

“It’s wr-ong. You’re ooman. I’m…” he trails off and glances over at your curled up form. A position meant to protect you from incoming harm. “I’m not.”

For him to confirm your suspicions, you weren’t surprised. Not after finally getting to see him in a better light. The dark, mustard yellow of his skin was dotted with scales. The color and texture wasn’t normal. The size of him wasn’t normal. The blonde rubbery-like dreads that poured from his head weren’t normal.

“I-it’s aga-against ev-everything I know. I came back. I sh-shouldn’t have.” The masked creature made a noise of agony. One of his hands came to rub at his sterum. “But the pa-in. A-after s-so long. I grew weak. Co-uldn’t handle it. I-I ne-needed to lay e-eyes on you.” Words kept tumbling from him. Words you barely understood while he struggled with your language.

They almost, almost softened you. The same pain you endured the last four years was what he experienced as well. But, there was a difference. He purposefully abandoned you. He deserved the pain. You, on the other hand, did not.

You were only human, after all. “Where am I?” Your voice was barely about a hoarse croak.

He perked, only slight, at the sound. “My s-hip. I’ve h-idden us-us from your go-vern-ment senses behind a plan-et you ca-ll Jupiter.” Him clarifying he was an alien though, wasn’t on your list of possibilities. At least, not very high. The most you thought of him was a mutated, escaped human experiment. Not… that.

“Y-you’re an alien?” you gaped before reeling in your shock. There was no reason him to give the benefit of the doubt. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Yes,” he confirmed and dipped his head. The strange, rubbery dreads slipped over his shoulders to sway. “I a-m a Yautja. No-t t-that you know w-hat that is.” You bristle at his offensive words and sent a heated glare at the alien. He brushed it off with a shrug. “My name is Cew’voc. A-and yours?” You turned your head away again as your answer. He has not earned that right to know you.

Newly named Cew’voc purred with mirth. It took every ounce of will not to spin around and punch him. How dare he laugh!

“That is-is okay. I-I can just look-k it up.” Whatever he had for a face, there had to be a smirk on it. You could hear it. You bristled against and huffed. This surely couldn’t be your soulmate.

A new silence fell over the two of you. For a moment, tense peace. Until you heard a mechanical hiss. Your head whipped over to find Cew’voc’s hands gripping the metal mask that adorned his face. Carefully, the alien tugged the cover free and let his features be revealed.

Alien. He was completely alien. Three mandibles tipped with sharp fangs protruded from where what looked to be a mouth. The mouth area had an animal like jowl but the front area was open. Similar to a person, he had a jaw. Teeth protruded from both the jaw and upper side of the mouth. Terrifying teeth that looked deadly.

Then, his eyes. Those felt like a predator was staring directly into your soul. You couldn’t help the shutter than ran its course. They were a bright, scary yellow that almost seemed to glow in the calm lighting of the room.

After you exploration of his face, you find the alien with its only upper mandible quirked up. As if he was smirking at you. You glowered.

In broken, struggling English, the Yautja spoke your name. You swiftly got on your knees to be the same height as him and pointed a finger at him. “You don’t deserve the right to say my name! You abandoned me,” you grounded out. Cew’voc simply raised a brow in your direction then amusedly shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t! You don’t get to brush me off like that. Four years of misery because of your scared little ass running away.”

Now, that got a reaction out of him. The alien stood up to a lumbering height above you and glared down at you over his mandibles. “I am n-o co-coward. I’m Yautja. S-strong, mi-ghty.” He thumped a fist over his chest. “Do not a-cused me with fa-lsehood.”

You didn’t fear him. Not one bit. You stood up to be eye with him on the bed and got into his face. “Yes. The fuck. You are! You ran away with your tail between your legs like a little sissy crying to your mom!” Despite nearing twenty-three, you used some middle school insults that hopefully did the trick.

The anger that covered his features melted away when he slumped back with another smirk. “Oh, we may g-et alon-g yet.”

Oh, you doubted that.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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potatoofdefiance · 2 months

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My two cents and a rant on the allegations and Good Omens

(I will probably regret this later)

This has been eating at me for a while now, ever since the news broke that Neil Gaiman was a sex pest (see infamous TERF-adjacent podcast by Tortoise media) and I have been consciously and unconsciously ruminating over it for weeks now, so here goes.

I think the news of Neil Gaiman hit me harder than I was expecting, and certainly harder than I would have liked.

I didn’t (and certainly do not now) consider myself a “true fan”. I was never a hard-core fan, one that goes to signings or book fairs or cons to meet my favourite author. Partly because I never latched that much on any of the authors of the books or movies I loved, and partly (maybe for the best now that I think about it) because I never had the money, or wasn’t located in a geographically favored area. Meaning I never lived anywhere near wherever events with Neil Gaiman were happening.

So, with all this in mind, how is it that the news managed to hit me so hard?

I thought (read: ruminated) about it, and I think it is because of Good Omens. And the latest times. In my life, and I think a good chunk of other people’s lives too, these last few years have been a roller-coaster. You choose which particular scenario the roller-coaster is set into; mine is on fire, running through a sea of shit and we are being slapped by gooey flaming eels hard in the face.

Maybe someone might enjoy this. That someone isn’t me.

But the point is: I have been struggling. With my life, with a mental health condition, with the world and my place in it.

Enter Good Omens. In an effort to actively expose myself to “nice” stuff, stuff that would, if not make me feel better, at least make me laugh, I started tapping more into the fandom.

I’m not a fandom person. Again, never latched onto anything that had a fandom big enough (where are the Ann Halam fans? No one is making cosplays of Sloe from Siberia, are they?).

But with Good Omens, it seemed perfect for me. I wasn’t invested so much, it didn’t make me feel like I was “lacking” something in order to be part of it. I just felt like I didn’t care enough to really be vulnerable to it, I felt like it could have been a nice innocuous hobby.

But that’s the point. Thinking it was innocuous made me let down my guard enough to actually fall in love with the fandom. Fall in love with those two weirdos of characters (which by the way, I’ll say this now: I think Aziraphale and Crowley as portrayed in the series are more a product of fans and Tennant and Sheen than they are a product of Gaiman and Pratchett. And this is not a bad thing per se, I think, but let’s give credit where credit is due).

And let me be clear: I gained so so much from joining the fandom. It has positively affected so many seemingly unrelated parts of my life, and I’m so grateful to so many kind strangers on the internet who have shared such wholesome art with me, and have gifted me so much, that even putting it into words is simply not enough to explain all of it.

And one of the results of this “wave of wholesomeness” is I also started following Gaiman more closely.

Like so many, I loved Coraline. Gaiman seemed a genuinely nice person. An old guy who had wisdom to share, and who seemed to be fascinatingly non-stereotypical? If that makes sense. What I mean is that he was everything my father warned me against. A goth, weird, a writer therefore an artist (and in my family we know artists are fools who end up on the street jobless and homeless). And yet, to me now he seemed such a normal guy. Yes maybe someone who enjoyed that fashion style, but otherwise very far away from the usual excess of a rockstar. Of course I was too young when he was at the peak of his rockstar years. English is not my first language, and when he was 40 I was in elementary school and just learning about him, and you know, they do not write about his fans passing out at signings or his groupies on the back cover of children’s books.

What I mean is that I didn’t have access to all the media and information about him.

So I start seemingly connecting to this writer, whose works I have enjoyed for the most part, and who seems such a nice guy in how he interacts with his fans and people in general. Such an inoffensive, kind person. And kind seemingly to everyone.

I started liking him. To the point where I remember telling my partner: you know, Neil Gaiman is someone I’d take a coffee with (which in Italian culture is one of the greatest honors one can give you. Having a coffee while sitting at a café and chat for hours is what good friends do).

So, in my mind he had a special place now. He was someone I started to admire and look up to.

And this is, I think, where it hurts. It hurts because even if I wasn’t personally victimized, I never met him, he never acted creepy with me, he doesn’t even know me, it still felt like I, as part of the fandom, had been used for his clout. And also, it hurts to feel like someone you trusted because of how they presented themselves has lied to you.

And on top of that: it is so fucking disrespectful. The fact he thought he could get away with it. With hurting so many people (one is one too many by the way), and causing so much pain, while also enjoying crowds of adoring fans, both online and in person.

I find it personally difficult to reconcile my love of the GO fandom with all of this right now. And I think it’s for a number of reasons.

Firstly because the silence of institutions and people around these facts has opened some old wounds and made me angry again towards a system that I perceive as hostile towards me and people like me who might be vulnerable.

What I mean is: I know that Gaiman is a powerful person, and a lot of people need to bring money home and are tied to contracts and what not (yeah I’m looking at our favorite two male presenting british actors here) and I understand it. I do. And this is exactly why this stuff makes me angry again. Angry at the whole shitty system we live in, where if you happen to be in some kind of power imbalance you might end up having to eat shit and shut up while witnessing violence against you or others and not being able to utter a word about it. This sucks. It makes me angry. It makes me angry that Michael Sheen, someone I like to believe would be among the first to shout “I BELIEVE THE VICTIMS” if he was talking to friends at a bar, likely has to shut up and play nicely because Darth Amazon has some fucking clause written in Braille somewhere that says he has to sacrifice his firstborn if he ever dares to suggest he doesn’t like anyone related to the franchise.

It makes me soooo angry that we stay in the dark, and we only know from those people who are brave, and powerful enough to speak up about something that (allegedly) has been known for fucking years in the writing community. That this person was a creep. That he was treating people, mainly women and non-binary folks, if not bad, at least poorly.

And you know, this makes me even more angry because I have been in such shitty situations too! I was a victim of a system where exploitation and borderline abuse were normalized in a work setting.

And it wakes something deep in me to read that “it was an open secret bla bla bla” and again: I understand why people set up whisper networks instead of taking these giants down. I understand it. It still makes me angry because I simply do not want to live in such systems. Systems where I’m either the sacrificial lamb or I’m the one tying it on the table, or handing the axe over to the butcher, or a witness who has no power to stop the suffering.

I don’t want to live in such a system. But I have to. In my real life. I have to put up with so much shit sometimes, shit that makes me feel like I cannot stand up for my values because hey, I need to pay the bills too. And Good Omens was one of those few things where I could escape a bit into an alternative reality, where everything could be a bit better.

And I’m sure the fandom is still like this for most of the fans. I have witnessed first-hand how supportive and cheerful this fandom can be.

For me though, it still makes me think of all this...tsunami of shit.

I want to be able to enjoy the silly fanart, the memes, the wait for season 3 again. But I can’t. I can’t because my brain does not work like that. Good Omens still means Neil Gaiman too much to me. And I cannot go around talking cheerfully about Good Omens while feeling like I’m feeding into the clout of someone who used their power to coerce vulnerable people. Because (and I might be wrong) it feels like the message I’m sending is: my comfort show/book is more important than your pain or your life. And I can’t. This is not the truth.

I feel for the victims. Probably I feel even more than it would be healthy for me, or normal. But I don’t know, I feel like I connect to them. Maybe because I’ve been a victim of abuse perpetrated in clear power-imbalanced relationships, or because I felt like nobody cared about me and my wellbeing for so long, that eventually I stopped caring too.

And it is bad. It’s dehumanizing to a point where you really start believing you don’t matter. Your wellbeing doesn’t matter. There are more important things.

Ok so, I don’t want the victims, the survivors, to feel like this. They matter. They matter to me because if there’s one thing that is going to re-ignate the sacred fire of defiance in me is being able to stop this self-feeding cycle of self-loathing and misery. You matter. We matter. Vulnerable people who have been hurt matter to me. If there is one thing we can do to resist these systems of oppression and these people who abuse their power, that thing is believing that the people they hurt matter. If not more, at least as much as them.

And the way I show myself and others that the victims and their lives matter to me is by distancing myself from Neil Gaiman and his works, at least for now.

I feel bad for people who might have found themselves unwillingly tied to all of this. I feel bad for Sheen and Tennant, for all the wonderful artists and craft-people who have put so much of their work and love in Good Omens and I don’t want to let them down.

My two cents are that season 3 will not be canceled if they see there’s enough traction, and definitely won’t be canceled unless fans start a crusade against it, which won’t happen most likely.

The fandom loves Tennant and Sheen too much, and these are too much nice people to really hold a grudge against them, so I don’t think it will be canceled.

I’m afraid we (I say “we” meaning everyone who loves Good Omens) will be “held hostage” by Gaiman in the sense that he knows season 3 is not going to happen without him, so it’s either “we” or the majority of “we” behave, or it’s not going to happen. Which again, I don’t think he would lose the opportunity to make some money, and he also has contract duties to fulfill, but it still is worth it for him to try to leverage his power.

I wanted to end this rant on a positive note, somehow. But I don't know exactly what to say. Recently one of the things that has brought me laughs and joy has been the Channel 4 series “We are Lady Parts”.

In one of the episodes they quote a very beautiful poem, which came back to mind when I was listening to Claire (the latest woman who has come forward with allegations) on the “Am I Broken” podcast.

The poem is Speak by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, I will paste the version from the show, because I think it’s very powerful and beautiful.

Speak, for your two lips are free Speak, for your tongue is still your own This straight body still is yours. Speak, your life is still your own.

See how in the blacksmith’s forge flames leap high and steel glows red, padlocks opening wide their jaws. Every chain’s embrace outspread.

Time enough is this brief hour Until body and tongue lie dead. Speak, for truth is living yet. Speak, whatever must be said.

#neil gaiman #good omens #tw abuse mention

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mayasaurusss · 2 months

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I want me some yandere adult lottie, with an innocent reader. Do whatever the fu<k you want with it bae

Old ghosts. Contents: mentions of abusive relationships, mentions of violence, horror moments, Yellowjackets coded, light romance, two OCC's, reader is gender neutral but wears a dress at one point, Lottie is as delusional as ever, open ending 350k wors/ about six pages. Author's note: So uhm, I don't think I've met any requirments you had, anon. I tried to do yandere Lottie in this but it really doesn't come across as it and I'm not familiar with the genre, so everything I did prior to this sucked. So I did something more akin to a murder mistery? But since I still wanted to make this yandere coded, I left the story as raw and ugly as I could. In my personal opinion this is very Yellowjackets coded. It isn't a very romantic oneshot nor smutty one, but I hope you will still like it!

It would be an understatement to say you had messed up. You could not even predict where this relationship would lead you.

You had met Lottie months ago, or well, you had come into contact with what you now knew was her 'cult'.

The marketplace had been very busy at that hour of the morning, vendors shouting and people chatting. However, you felt as lonely as ever. After many years, you have been dumped by your boyfriend. Or, he had cheated on you and blamed you for it. It was for the better, really. You were clingy and he had taken his anger out on you on multiple occasions, so at least now you weren't going to be his next punching bag. You had been miserable: not that you really loved him, after all, after the umpteenth hit -love or not-, an animal stops loving its master. But you had never managed to learn to live alone, yet alone care for yourself.

Other than that, you were battling with the understanding that you loved women more than men during your entire life. That realization had come during your relationship with Simon, and he had understood quickly. One night, you were invited to his friend's house. His girlfriend was so beautiful you were jaw slacked and shy with her for the whole night. Simon's friend hadn't noticed, but Simon did. The morning after, you had walked in your office with bruises under your suit, a black eye and a heavy heart. He was so bitter and awful that he had slept with many women the weeks after, and among them -as far as you knew- there was the woman from that night. At least you had dodged two bullets.

So, the woman who sold honey knew perfectly what to do with you. It wasn't her fault, really. People like her see someone that went through the same, and just want to help. She introduced herself as Olivia, a woman the same age as you, and when she saw your healing bruises, she had told you about where she lived. A compound, lost in nature and away from civilization. There, according to her, people lived in harmony with nature and with each other. They learnt to face their inner demons and past trauma under the care of Charlotte Matthews. Their caretaker. Olivia talked about Charlotte like a believer might have talked about their God, with such adoration that it left you breathless. And, a bit skeptical.

You had accepted Olivia's invite. One of Simon's many gifts, other than bruises and breaking your trust, was throwing you out of the house. Besides your friend's generous hospitality, you were basically homeless, and jobless after your boss had fired you just days prior to your break up. So, living at the compound didn't seem like a bad idea. Olivia had assured you that Lottie -that's what she called her- had a special program for whoever wasn't in the right economical situation to live at the compound, but still needed care.

You had started to travel that same afternoon, having packed the last of your belongings and bid farewell to your friend and family. To go to the compound, you had traveled on old streets that unraveled through barren outskirts and lush forests. There was no one else in sight. That made you even more scared than before. How could you just accept a stranger's invite to an isolated place in the mountains? You had truly lost your mind.

But Olivia was so nice with you, so friendly and lovely. She had no problems in telling you what made her arrive at the compound in the first place. Two years ago, when she was 19, her father and mother had fought and in a fit of rage, he had pushed her down the stairs, almost breaking her skull. Ever since then, she had been taken care of by her son, who did not have time to help nor give a fuck about Olivia. So, for a year, she had been alone. That was until Lottie had found her. With the exact same tactic you had been recruited -kidnapped?- she had come to live at the compound and with it, came to peace with her trauma.

Your story wasn't as grim as Olivia's, but you still needed to be taken care of. "That is what Lottie will do" she said, brown eyes on you and a smile that could kill on her lips.

The compound was on the foot of a mountain, surrounded by vegetation and overlooking a lake. When you set foot on the ground, the first thing you heard was a strange melody, a chant in the distance. Olivia had been quick to show you away from it, inside the main building where your belongings such as your phone and wallet had been taken from you. "Well, that's because our phones chain us from nature and healing" she had answered you, after you had asked her why they needed to take your phone at all. Great, so, you are in the middle of nowhere, without your phone close to you, surrounded by strangers and without a clear path back to civilization.

Great, just great. What has gotten into you?

"Wait here, I'll go get Lottie" Olivia said, seating you on a wicker chair in the waiting hall. You had noticed that everyone here wore the same purple outfits. Oh, this is definitely a cult. "Here she is!" you heard behind you, along with the steps of two pairs of feet. Fearing that you might have looked like an insensitive asshole, you stood up, waiting for Lottie to circle to your front.

You had expected her to look like a hippie: an old woman with short white hair, sunglasses indoors, long hoop earrings and who smelled like weed. Instead, you found yourself in front of the most beautiful woman ever. Lottie was tall, quite literally towering over you, her hair was long and black, the same color as her eyes, skin dark coloured. She looked really good for her age, every wrinkle she had was perfect on her skin.

Her velvety, deep and calm voice had greeted you, "Hi, I am Charlotte Matthews. You can call me Lottie. And who might you be?" you answered back with a trembling voice. She smiled at you with such care and love you thought you could combust on the spot. "I will show you around here" she told you, as her hand came to rest on your lower back, guiding you through the place.

The first months at the compound had been... calm. You shouldn't have expected anything more than that, but it felt like a breath of fresh air. You always wore purple -heliotrope- dresses or clothes, woke up at six am and went to sleep at ten pm. Everyday the cycle continued, so much so that you didn't at first notice the... signs, as you were completely immersed in your routine.

Whenever you started to hear chants in the distance, Olivia, who was ever present in your life, would lead you away from them. If you questioned her, she would just say "It's just a special therapy. You will see one day".

Lottie was always with you. Always. At first you didn't pay too much mind to it, thinking that since you were probably a mildly troubled individual, she would feel the need to have her eyes on you more than the others. But Olivia had had it worse, far worse than you, but she wasn't as followed as you were from Lottie. And you were certain others have had it worse than Olivia.

Lottie was always following you: whether that was during the many therapy sessions, the lunch or even your personal alone time in your personal cabin -which she had so graciously given you just three weeks after you became a member- where she would knock at the last hours of the day to have small talk with you. It had become such a nag for you that at one point, you even said it to her, clearly and plainly, "Lottie, look. I understand that I might be... weak, in any way. But I'm fine, I don't always need you".

You wished you hadn't said that, because her eyes had stopped reflecting all light, a dark look in them. "Ah, I see. Very well, I will leave you alone" she went away and didn't talk with you for a few days. All the time though, you felt eyes watching your back.

Everything comes boiling back to right now.

When Lottie had talked with you again it was in the late afternoon. She has just finished one of her communal meetings in the clearing overlooking the lake. She had walked over to you, took your hand and led you where no one could hear. "I want you to meet me this evening, to do something that will build our common trust in each other" she had gestured to a man you hadn't noticed before, prompting him to give you a white flowy dress. "Tonight, after dinner, come to me, here. I want you to wear this" she talked to you, taking your shoulders in her hands.

When the sky became purple, you had gone out, waiting for Lottie. The clearing seats had been moved, now just the yellow signs of the compound's symbol left. Lottie had moved from behind, greeting you with her velvety voice "Hello dear. Are you ready for our therapy?" she said, and her hand came up your face, stroking your cheek. "Uhm... Lottie... What are you doing?". Your cheeks felt hot with blood, voice weavering. You had battled with your small crush for Lottie for a while now, and even if you did find her attachment to you a bit too much, you still liked her. So much.

Lottie just smiled, her other hand rested on your hip before she let you go, walking over the lake's shore. You followed behind her like a dog, small and frail in comparison with the towering grace she was. "Come down here, come" her hands extended to you, helping you down the wood platform to the shore's sands. She gestured towards the dark waters, prompting you to follow her. When you did, she wordlessly placed your body into the lake, the water splashing at your hips. "It's... cold" her smile was enough to fend off the shivering of your body, but what she said next made you rethink her sanity.

"I want you to lower yourself in the water. We will calm your heart as well as our trust in one another" she said, attempting to push you in the water. "No! No, no, no. What if something happens?!" your voice straining over, before she replied calmly "Nothing will happen, because I am here".

And how could you say no to Lottie? So, you started to fall back in the darkness, the cold waters nipping at your skin making your breath shallow. All the while, she held your head and hand, gently guiding you.

There you were, at her mercy. You trusted her with your life and she had to be responsible for it. In her eyes, this was the most pure form of adoration. She adored you and you adored her.

The baptism was over.

When you resurfaced, she had quickly guided you back to land and had dried you with a towel promptly left on the sand. With her hands on your cheeks, then, Lottie had kissed you. So deeply and lovingly it made your heart ache. Her tongue found yours, overpowering you, cutting your breath away.

You were so distracted that you didn't hear the sound of movement behind Lottie. When her lips fell away from yours and you could look away, a shiver went down your spine.

Masks. A group of masked people stood before you. Some depicting bears, some birds, some wolves, some humans. All lined up, looking directly at you. "L-Lottie... what is this?" you didn't know why your first thought was that Lottie must've been behind it, but something screamed at you that this was indeed the case. "My love" she said, "you need to trust me. To let me cherish you. It's what It wants".

You backed away from her, your blood freezing in your veins. Someone, a man, stopped you in your tracks. He trapped your arms into his, uncaring of your trashing. "Let yourself be one with the Wilderness" Lottie said, no light behind her eyes. As if something possessed her. She pulls a knife from behind her, and for a split moment you think that Lottie will kill you, but the blade slashes across her fingertip. She draws a symbol on your forehead with her blood, trickles of it streaming down on your eyes.

"We hear the Wilderness and the Wilderness hears us" the chants rise in the air, filling the empty dark sky. Lottie's voice is louder than everyone else, and finally the voices die down, as hers is the last one still chanting. When she is done, her body turns to yours, and she utters a single word.

"Run".

You don't need to be told twice. You sprint in the forest, leaving wet trails behind you. The masked people follow you, searching, predicting where you will go, if you will hide. Lottie is the last one to join the hunt, her white dress engulfed by the forest's darkness.

It seems like the forest itself has a mind, trying to prevent you from running further away. Branches claw as your skin and dress, thorns planting in your flesh, wind blowing so you can't understand if the sounds you hear are the wind or howls.

You run, you run and run, until every bone of your body, every organ and every drop of blood screams at you to stop. And just as you were about to fall down in exhaustion, you see something in the dark. A house, one that looks like it had been left to time's mercy.

The walls are dirty and rotten, the white plaster almost unrecognizable under years of dirt. Your sixth sense tells you to get away, to search for another place, but there isn't anything else that could shelter you.

The air inside smells of old, wilted matter. It makes your stomach close and you try not to vomit, pinching your nose while you explore the rest of the house, searching for a hiding place until morning. Your plan was to hide and travel down to the nearest town, then, telling the authorities that up in the mountains, a cult was trying to sacrifice people to a made up entity. You wanted to hope that by doing so, you would help others to not follow your steps.

From the hall, you turned left towards the kitchen. It was empty, except for a table with scattered documents on it. Photos of an old soccer team, articles about the disappearance of a plane in the wilds of Canada, a symbol... The same one of the compounds. Bit by bit, you started to understand. In between the documents, some by psychologists and others by articles, you found a small diary. It was a brown leather diary, expensive from the looks of it. The pages were yellow and some started to rot away, but you could still make up the words written on them. The words were written with a tremulous hand: it seemed like whoever was the author, they must have written quickly, in fear of being found out.

'12th January, 1998. I hate it here. It's cold in the winter, and it makes me remember that place. I try to help the other patients, but the nurses forbid me from doing it. They told me to stop talking to It, and told me it isn't real. I know they are lying. It must be real, or all we did was for nothing. All the hurt was for nothing. It can't be. I know it's real. It hears me, I hear it'.

Something about this made you shiver. Could It be whatever Lottie was chanting to earlier? 1998... the plane crash happened in 1996; it couldn't be a coincidence. You take the diary and a couple of documents in your hand, before continuing to explore. Nothing seems out of the ordinary: the living room, the bathroom, the bedroom; everything is neatly placed. You spot a dark flight of stairs at the very back of the house. It doesn't look inviting at all, and you're almost ready to leave, when you hear something outside. Sounds of steps circling the house. The hair of your back rises up and every fear you had of the stairs is thrown out of the window.

As quietly as possible, you reach the second floor, listening for the sounds. The floor is far darker than the first one: so much so that you can't see anything. You wait a minute for your eyes to get used to the dark and then continue walking down the hall, towards what you assume is a bedroom. Just before you reach it, you hit a metal tube: it's a ladder, red and rusted and it leads you to the attic. You are about to get past it when you hear the front door of the house open: someone is inside.

Quickly you head up the ladder and in the dark attic. It's not all dark you realize, some lights shine in the middle of the room, circling...

An idol. An old idol made of old bones and burnt hay. The idol was planted in the wooden floor, its arms branches extending outwards, bent up as if it was deep in ecstasy. Its torso was made out with a large ribcage, so you suspected it to be of non-human origin; inside the organs were replaced with hay and fresh grass. Lifeless eyes stared back at you, antlers protruding from the back of the skull.

You feel someone's arms circle your stomach, placing their nose in the crook of your neck. "I knew you'd come here" her voice said, "It told me". Lottie holds you tight against herself, mumbling incoherently on your skin. "L-let go of me you witch!" you try to shove her away, propting Lottie to just let go of you: as such, you fall in the candle circle, spilled wax burning at your skin.

Lottie watches you with adoration and hunger. Upon your fall into the circle, her eyes lit up. She raises her arms up in the air -much like the idol itself- and towards you, in some sort of divine bliss. "Yes! Yes! It- It choose you!" she says out loud, "I'm so glad it was you!".

You trembled in both fear and anger, "How did- How did you know I was here?" you say, looking up at Lottie, shrouded by the darkness of the room. "It told me, of course" she says with an uncanny smile.

You're shocked by this new side of Lottie, and for a moment you forget what she had done to you. "You are crazy Lottie! You tried to kill me!" her eyes widen at your accusations, "Kill you? No, no, I didn't try to kill you... I just wanted to...". Your anger makes you uncaring of Lottie's emotions, so you lash out at her "Just wanted to what, Lottie?! Sacrifice me to your creepy god-thing?!".

It's like she's torn between the illusion of her god and the reality that she had scared you. "I thought- I thought you were going to kill me! I thought what we had for all these months was for nothing!", what she does next makes your skin crawl. She watches between you and the idol behind, her eyes filled with tears. "No I wan- I needed to know that It accepts you" she said, coming closer to your body.

Suddenly Lottie grabs your wrists with force, like she sees you but her ears are filled with whispers from old ghosts and gods. "And now, I know it does!" she almost looks delirious. Lottie shakes your wrists in her hands and cries; the black abyss of her eyes staring back at yours.

"Can't you understand? This is It's love, my love" you try to move from her grasp, but even in her old age, Lottie still proves to be as strong as she once was. "Y-You were hunted, weak, and you lived! You lived! And now It recognizes you as part of Itself" a connection is made in your brain.

Shivers run down your body, at the realization that either you aren't alone in this old attic, or you are alone with a roman and her ghosts. Either is terrifying. "What... what is It, Lottie?" but it's far too late to run from Lottie or the ghosts in her head. You are sure that either will haunt you anyway, if you manage to escape that is. She pauses, contemplating your words. "It..." she tries to put a name, a significance to whatever this It is, but she decides against it, instead opting to close her arms on you, one caging your body on hers and the other cradling the back of your head.

Her voice is lifeless while it whispers in your ear "It doesn't matter. You are one of us now". That last phrase confuses you, "I have... I have been here for months now. I was always one of you, no?" she shakes her head, cranes her neck to look down on you.

"No, one of us".

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets fic #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you

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half-oz-eddie · 9 months

Text

“I’m sorry to do this, Billy, but, effective immediately, you’re fired.”

“Why? What’d I do?!” Billy exclaimed. “It’s almost Christmas! You can’t—“

“We lost a lot of money this year, Billy. You were laid off along with dozens of people. Pick up a severance package from Patty at the desk before you leave, okay? Best of luck to you.”

Billy stormed out of the advertising agency without that shitty severance package.

He couldn’t afford to lose this job. It sucked enough that the pool was only open during the summer and he needed to pay his way through school with a shitty phone job for an advertising company. But getting fired before Christmas really took the cake.

He didn’t want his father to find out he was jobless, or else he’d be homeless, so he went to a job agency and was handed an ad for an administrative assistant to a COO at H.H. Enterprises.

The pay was quintuple his salary at his old job. He didn’t think he had much of a shot with his limited experience and his age, but he completely lost hope when he learned what H.H. actually stood for.

Hugh Harrington, Steve Harrington’s father.

It had been 4 years since Billy and Steve even interacted since they fought. It was a brutal night that still haunted Billy, so he assumed it probably still haunted Steve. He expected Steve to be the one to stop him from getting the job he so desperately needed. Rightfully so, Billy believed.

What made it worse was finding out not only would the COO be interviewing him, Steve was the fucking COO!

“This is just my luck.” Billy mumbled to himself as he took the elevator to the 19th floor of the office building.

He dreaded the reaction to his face when he entered his office, but all Steve did was smile and offer him a handshake.

Billy reluctantly shook his hand and accepted the seat across from Steve.

“So, you worked at that shitty advertising agency, huh?” Steve skimmed through Billy’s very short resume.

“Uh…yeah, they…let me go the day before yesterday.”

“Jesus. Christmas is in like…3 weeks.”

“I know. They let a bunch of people go and tried to give us baskets as severance packages.”

Steve snickered. “That sounds like something they’d do.”

Billy sighed. “Look, St—" He stopped himself, not wanting to be so informal with a bigshot Chief Operating Officer. They were adults now in the working world, and he was at the bottom of the food chain. "Uh, Mr. Harrington—”

“Oh, god, no." Steve emphatically shook his head. "Please don’t. Mr. Harrington’s my old man. Just call me Steve.”

“Okay. Steve. Listen. I know we don’t have the best history, but I work my ass off and I really need this job—“

“No problem, you got it.”

That was easier than he thought. “A-are you sure?”

“Hey. I’d rather have a familiar face around the office for a change. Between you and me, this place is dreadful.”

“It’s just—after what happened between us…”

“We were…stupid high school seniors. It was nearly half a decade ago. I’m over it.”

If Steve was willing to let go, maybe Billy could finally let go of the pain of that night too.

“So…I got the job? When do I start?”

“Now, I guess.”

“Sure. What do you need me to do?”

Steve sighed. “I’ve never had an assistant to tell what to do before. Not that I wanna...boss you around or anything, I just—“ Steve groaned, resting his head on his desk. “I hate working with my dad.”

“You…want some coffee or something?”

“God, yeah. Coffee—coffee sounds great.”

“How d’you like it?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t really like coffee. Just keeps me from falling asleep. However you make it is fine. Also—got a smoke?”

Billy smirked as he stood. “Always do.”

Billy spent most of his days at work learning about Steve and only helping out when he wanted some coffee or seemed too overwhelmed.

He was able to pick up on all his body language. He’d file some paperwork when Steve was stressed, take a call when Steve was pinching the bridge of his nose because he had a migraine and offering him a cigarette when a phone call got too irritating because these old partners of Mr. Harrington’s were either hard of hearing or fucking hardheaded.

Steve never had to say a word when he needed something. Billy was right there by his side whenever he needed his help and support.

He even offered to massage Steve’s shoulders when he mentioned how awful Steve’s posture was.

“God, you are amazing.” Steve moaned as Billy worked out the stiffness in his shoulders. “I really needed you.”

“I’m here, pretty boy. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about now.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s nice. Right there.”

Billy’s hands felt so firm, yet so gentle on Steve’s aching shoulders. He almost wanted to ask him to massage more of his body, but that definitely wasn’t appropriate in the workplace.

Even though they knew each other. They were still strangers to one another, so Steve was getting to know an entirely new person—someone he found special.

“That’s perfect, Billy. Thank you.”

For some reason, that massage felt like more than a massage. Steve already missed Billy’s hands as they pulled away from his shoulders.

“Why don’t we take a break and have some lunch?” Steve offered after typing up exactly one sentence and taking 2 phone calls.

“Cool.” Billy agreed. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Y’know that donut shop across from Melvald’s? They have the best damn sandwiches I’ve ever had. They make this special mayo for their BLTs…you gotta try it.”

“Yeah? I can go get us some.”

Steve handed Billy some money from his pocket. It was more than enough for sandwiches. “Get some donuts and some hot chocolate too. I’m so damn tired of drinking coffee.”

“Anything else? Want me to stop by Melvad’s and pick up your snacks? Your supply drawer seemed a little empty last time I checked.”

“Please. You know I get moody without my Pringles.”

“I know. That’s why I asked.” Billy smiled.

“Hey, Billy.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’m good at this job? It’s just—I feel like such an idiot sitting at this desk.”

“You’re doing fine, Steve. You’re damn good at your job. You get your paperwork done on time, your dad’s only been here like—twice to ask you anything and he didn’t even criticize you as much as the first time. You answer all your calls, you show up to all your meetings promptly—“

“Because of you. I do all of that because of you.”

“I’m an assistant, Steve. It’s my job to make sure you’re on the ball. But I’m not in those meetings with those old guys charming them with your ideas. Again. Your ideas. You have a vision for the future of the company.”

“I just…I feel like I’m under a lot of pressure.”

“You are. You’re the COO. It’s a big job. But don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I’ll try not to be. Thanks again, Billy. For always listening to me complain. I never hear you complain once.”

Billy chuckled. “I just complain about you when I get home.”

“Really?” Steve pouted. “Am I that bad?”

Billy's chuckle turned into a boisterous laugh. “I’m kidding. You’re real easy to work with. I’m glad I got this job.”

“Me too.”

They made endearing eye contact, smizing at one another for what felt like an eternity before Billy cleared his throat and turned away.

“I’ll um...go grab lunch and your snacks. Be back soon.”

“Don’t take too long. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

“You’re a big boy, Steve. You can survive an hour without me.”

“An hour?!” Steve whined. “I don’t think I can.”

“Jesus, you’re so clingy.” Billy grinned. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. I promise.”

Steve relaxed his shoulders and his face softened into a smile. “Thank you.”

Billy drove to Melvalds and picked up Steve’s favorite snacks. He got 4 rolls of pringles and a pack of Oreos, then ordered their sandwiches, donuts and hot chocolate.

He wanted to get Steve a Christmas gift, since Christmas was in a few days, but what do you buy a man who has everything? Billy decided to spend the day trying to figure it out.

When he got off the elevator, he could overhear the muffled sounds of arguing through Steve’s closed office door.

“I’m not bringing a date to the Christmas Party!”

“Again?! When are you ever gonna meet a nice girl? You can’t keep showing up without a date. You’re 22, almost 23 years old. No spouse, no family. You look pathetic! You used to have all those girls on your arm. What happened?”

“Nothing happened! I just haven’t dated anyone since I broke up with Nancy!”

“You couldn’t even do that right, could you?!”

“She left me for another guy! That isn’t my fault!”

“It’s every bit your fault. You weren’t enough. You never are! You never apply yourself to anything!“

“I’ve been applying myself here!”

“Yeah, for the past couple of weeks, sure. But for months before that, you were falling behind, missing calls, showing up late—“

“Dad. I’m trying to change!”

“…Yeah. You definitely need to.”

Billy stepped back into the elevator, pretending he’d just gotten off on the floor as Mr. Harrington stepped out of Steve’s office.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Billy greeted with a nod.

“Hello, Billy.” He greeted in a monotonous tone as he entered the elevator.

Billy rushed down the hall to Steve’s office to check on him.

“Hey, pretty boy. I got your snacks and our lunch!” He said with a big smile, hoping to pick up Steve’s mood.

“Can you believe my dad? He comes here just to berate me about not having a girlfriend, throw Nancy in my face and make me feel like shit.”

“Yeah, I…heard everything. If it makes you feel any better. I don’t think you’re pathetic or that you’re not enough. I think you’re pretty great.”

“So what if I don’t bring a date to the office party? Why does he care about appearances more than his own son?”

“It’s just the kinda guy he is, I guess.” Billy shrugged as he unwrapped Steve’s sandwich and filled his snack drawer. “Eat. We’ve still got another 6 hours ahead of us.”

“I love when you say “we.” Because, Y’know, it’s true. We make a great team.”

“We do, yeah.”

“It’d be kinda funny if I took you to the Christmas party as my date, yeah?”

Billy took a deep breath. “Uh…wouldn’t your dad hate that? My dad would definitely hate that.”

“Actually, no. My dad doesn’t care. He’s always talking about modernizing and hiring “more queers for diversity” or something like that.” Steve said, making quotation marks with his fingers.

Billy laughed. “I guess that’s why I’m here.” He said as he took a bite of his sandwich.

“What?” Steve pointedly glanced up at him.

“What?” He innocently chewed his food.

“So then you should definitely be my date!”

“Why so insistent? You queer too?”

“My mom kinda outed me a few months ago. She didn’t know, she just…guessed.”

“How’d your dad react?”

“He said he didn’t think a twink like me would have much luck in the dating pool.”

Billy bursted out into a fit of laughter. “So your dad thinks you're just taking it lying down, huh?"

“I’m not! The two times I’ve been with guys in college, I topped!”

“Oh yeah? Living up to your king Steve persona still?”

“I-it’s just…it works for me, Y’know?” Steve chuckled, obvious blush kissing his face.

“Works for me too.” Billy smirked at him.

“Can uh…” Steve chuckled. “Can you work overtime tonight?”

“Over, under, from the back…wherever you need me, I’m here.”

“You’re not talking about work, are you?”

“You’re not talking about work either.”

They challenged each other with mischievous glances.

“You still haven’t told me if you’ll accompany me to the Christmas party.”

“Course I will. I’d love nothing more than for Mr. Harrington to think you’re my twink.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Steve chuckled.

Billy shot Steve the most alluring smile and intense gaze from those ocean blue eyes. “You better.”

#a holiday gift for y'all #and a treat for me for beating covid #ivy.doc #caliscoops.doc

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espaeus · 11 days

Note

Hello 👋 my ❤ friends !

I am asking you to support my newly created campaign to help my family survive the gruesome war over Gaza to safety and ✌️ peace.

Life has become incredibly harsh, tough and full of hardship and painful suffering. We lack all he basic living essentials and necessities such as food, water , medicine and other needs.

The war has made our life hopeless and desperate. My six-member family has been going through the hardest days they have ever experience for almost eleven months due to the disastrous war.

The war has taken every beautiful thing from us, leaving us homeless, displaced and jobless. Everything is tough and impossible to get. Water and living conditions are incredibly unattainable and unaccessible.

The rising prices of all necessary items of life has complicated our living conditions especially when all our savings were spent over the least necessities and needs.

A photo taken for my tender sick children who is suffering from a chronic disease relating to his respiratory system. 😭😭😭

That is why I am now asking you to lessen and minimize our burdens and loads of life through your contribution. You can help my family survive through donating whatever you can or reposting my messages.

Yours

Rewaa

Please go donate to the Gofund me, if you are able to. If you aren't, please just repost!!

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sillybillymillyrilly · 6 days

Note

Hello 👋 my ❤ friends !

I am asking you to support my newly created campaign to help my family survive the gruesome war over Gaza to safety and ✌️ peace.

Life has become incredibly harsh, tough and full of hardship and painful suffering. We lack all he basic living essentials and necessities such as food, water , medicine and other needs.

The war has made our life hopeless and desperate. My six-member family has been going through the hardest days they have ever experience for almost eleven months due to the disastrous war.

The rising prices of all necessary items of life has complicated our living conditions especially when all our savings were spent over the least necessities and needs.

A photo taken for my tender sick children who is suffering from a chronic disease relating to his respiratory system. 😭😭😭

Yours

Rewaa

to anyone who is reading this, please reblog!! and please let me know if I can tag any blogs to get more attention to this post!!

here's their go fund me too!!

https://gofund.me/07f652e2

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rosyl12620 · 20 days

Text

Yandere Nishinoya Yuu x reader

(This takes place when Noya is in 3rd year)

You were, honestly speaking, extremely nervous to start high school. Especially when it was such a well-known school after the boys volleyball team made it to the nationals last year. You would’ve preferred a private school but Karasuno was the closest high school to your house.

You were supposed to meet a 3rd year for a school tour after school. The idea was each 1st year would get an individual tour led by a 3rd or possibly 2nd year.

“L/N Y/N?!” a loud and cheerful voice asked.

You lowered the piece of paper you were reading that explained the your system. A short boy with a strip of blonde hair was staring at you.

“That’s me,” you said timidly.

The boy beamed, “I’m Nishinoya Yuu! You can call me Noya though. I’ll be giving you a tour!”

You nodded.

This boy had to be a 2nd year, right? But while taking the tour he told you that he was a 3rd year. You had politely nodded even though you were surprised.

After the tour, Nishinoya stopped in front of the gym doors.

“I have volleyball practice. You can watch if you want, Y/N-chan!” Nishinoya told you.

“You guys went to the nationals last year, right?” you asked, “If you really don’t mind, I’d love to see your national level skills, Noya-senpai!”

Nishinoya’s eyes widened in joy when you called him “Noya-senpai”. It was that very moment that he fell. He fell in love with you.

————————————————————————

Now you were trapped. Trapped in his house. It’d been over a year that Nishinoya had kept you imprisoned in his bedroom.

“Y/N-chan!” a familiarly sickening voice called, “I’m home! I’ve missed you.”

You kept quiet.

He walked over to where you were tied to a chair beside his bed. He started untying the knots to free your wrists.

“Let’s cuddle, Y/N-chan!” Nishinoya suggested.

You reluctantly climbed onto the bed beside him. Nishinoya immediately strangled you with a hug and plastered kisses literally everywhere he could.

“I love you,” Nishinoya murmured, his head buried in your hair.

Again, you didn’t respond.

Nishinoya looked up at your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Why are you so quiet all the time?”

You avoided eye contact and refused to answer the question.

“It’s alright Y/N-chan. I know you don’t really like talking,” he concluded, mostly to himself.

Nishinoya buried his head back into your hair.

You hated being trapped there. You hated the hugs, cuddles, kisses. And you especially hated you kind and caring he was after kidnapping you.

————————————————————————

One day, while Nishinoya was at work, you wriggled your wrists free from the ropes. You knew Nishinoya didn’t keep cameras around.

As you stepped outside for the first time after over a year, you breathed in the fresh air. The sights of nature.

But first things first, getting your captor in jail. You broke out into a sprint to the police station. You were taken in for questioning after you told them you’d been kidnapped.

After explaining the full story, the officers in the room with you shook their heads in dismiss.

“It seems like your so called ‘captor’ just wanted you to love them,” one of the officers said.

You were stunned, “But-“

“That’s enough. Now go home and get some rest,” the other officer said.

You slowly trudged your way out of the police station. If the police didn’t believe you, surely your parents would.

Once the shock and explanations were over, your own parents looked at you in concern.

“The police said that you had run away,” your mom said.

“They’re wrong. They refused to believe me,” you protested.

“I trust the authorities,” your dad said, “After all, you’re just a kid.”

You scoff. Abruptly standing up, you stormed out of the place you once called home.

————————————————————————

It had been a few months now. If you hadn’t escaped it’d be two year of captivity. When you escaped you never thought you’d want to go back.

Now, just looking at yourself disgusts you. Homeless, jobless, pathetic. You were useless and meaningless now.

It almost made you want to go back. You pushed the thought down. Even if you did, Nishinoya would be disgusted by you and he probably doesn’t even love you anymore anyways.

The breaking point came when Winter hit. It was freezing. You could tell that it’d snow soon. You needed shelter before that happens.

But where?

You hesitated at the door. You quickly composed yourself and knocked. The door swung open after a few seconds.

The eyes of a familiar short figure widened.

“Y/N-chan?” Nishinoya asked in shock.

You nodded.

“Y/N-chan! I’m so glad you’re okay! I’ve been so worried. I tried to find you but I found nothing. Let’s go inside. I bet you’re freezing,” he said.

“You mean it?” you asked, “After I left you? Even though I look like absolute crap?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Y/N-chan, you’re still perfect,” he said with a smile, “I love you. Now let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll make you something to eat after and we’ll cuddle.”

You nodded enthusiastically. Closing the door behind you, you had sealed your fate.

————————————————————————

You sat on the bed, still drying your wet hair. You felt so refreshed after a shower. Nishinoya gave you his sweater and sweatpants, promising to go out with you and buy some clothes for yourself one day.

Speaking of which, Nishinoya walked into holding a tray of your favourite foods. He sat now next to you.

“Thank you, Noya,” you said.

“No problem!” he responded.

After you were done your food, you and Nishinoya lay down on the bed and cuddled.

You realized you had truly missed it. The hugs, the cuddles, the kisses, and most of all, the love.

While you were taking in the warmth of his body, Nishinoya smirked. His plan worked perfectly. His influence had convinced everyone you were a run away. Now you had willingly come back to his arms.

Everything was perfect.

#anime #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere haikyuu #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya x reader #haikyuu nishinoya #stockholm syndrome #kidnapping mention #karasuno #x reader #yuu nishinoya #y/n #x y/n

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wizardnaturalist · 2 months

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I am not about to sit here and claim that any work is above reproach, but so many criticisms of RENT are either directly addressed within the show or are just. not true. and this perennial discourse about how Problematic it is annoys me, so here we go

Why don't they just pay the rent?

are you kidding me

did you watch the show??

they don't have any money

the situation established at the beginning is that Benny has allowed them to stay in their apartment rent free for the past year because Roger was unable to work and he and Mark wouldnt be able to afford living expenses as well as Roger's medication otherwise.

Benny then tells them that unless they break up Maureen's protest, they will not only have to immediately start paying rent, they will also have to pay back the entire previous year's rent or else be evicted

needless to say if you ware barely scraping by, you do not have a year's worth of rent and then some just sitting on hand

Mark was cosplaying poverty, he could've gone back to his parents' house at any time.

perhaps

all we know about Mark's parents from canon is that theyre pushy and he doesnt want to live with them. We don't know any details of their living situation or home life

but even if he would have been fine moving back home, it would have meant abandoning both the community he had grown into, and Roger.

Roger literally had not left the apartment since April died, and was not well enough to work to support himself at the time. Mark leaving would mean leaving Roger without support.

Mark's view of the homeless is often voyeuristic and expoitative.

yah

the conflict between Mark's comparatively privileged upbringing and the poverty amongst which he now lives is a major part of his character

remember when that homeless lady told him to fuck off

that didnt just slip in by accident

The whole show is about not being able to afford things, and then Mark quits his job for his Ideals.

Mark was not entirely jobless before being employed at the magazine. He wasn't going from having a job to unemployment. He always had money for food, clothes, medication, etc., even if it was tight

he just wasn't employed in his field. it wasnt a question of Having A Job or Not; it was about whether Mark was willing to accept the chance to get closer to making a living off of his art, even if it went against his morals, or whether he could be content carving out filmmaking for himself in a way that felt right

I thought Jonathan Larson was gay and died of AIDS.

not his fault??

neither Larson nor his estate ever claimed either of those things, you just jumped to a conclusion and made it everyone elses' problem

I can't believe this is a common "criticism"

A straight man has no right to write about the AIDS epidemic.

I dont know how to tell you this, but AIDS is not a gays-only disease. what are you, a politician from 1986?

RENT was not about being gay, it was about the disease. Roger, Mimi, Mark, and Benny- half the main cast- are all straight as far as the audience is aware. other than gay people, the most at-risk groups at the time were IV drug users, sex workers, people of colour, and impoverished people, all of whom are represented in the show

Larson may not have had AIDS, but many of his friends and loved ones did, and died of it. how incredibly callous to say that someone cannot write about the tragedy they personally lived through, just because they are not of the demographic you most associate with it

Larson plagiarized the whole cast and all the major story beats from Sarah Shulman's People in Trouble.

this is one that cropped up on tiktok a couple years ago

have you read the book?

I have

the only similarities are that they are both about poverty and AIDS in New York, and there are characters who cheat on their partners. that's it.

it's like saying Veep plagiarized The West Wing because theyre both about white house staffers. or like those guys who claim any fantasy story featuring swords and the hero's journey is a Star Wars ripoff. it' absurd.

RENT is directly and openly based off the opera La Bohème by Puccini, as well as incorporating autobiographical elements from Larson's life

stop just repeating things you hear

in conclusion: there are real criticisms and analyses to be had with RENT, but these are not them

#rent #broadway #musical theatre #jonathan larson

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missgirlsthings · 10 days

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Hello 👋 my ❤ friends !

I am asking you to support my newly created campaign to help my family survive the gruesome war over Gaza to safety and ✌️ peace.

Life has become incredibly harsh, tough and full of hardship and painful suffering. We lack all he basic living essentials and necessities such as food, water , medicine and other needs.

The war has made our life hopeless and desperate. My six-member family has been going through the hardest days they have ever experience for almost eleven months due to the disastrous war.

The rising prices of all necessary items of life has complicated our living conditions especially when all our savings were spent over the least necessities and needs.

A photo taken for my tender sick children who is suffering from a chronic disease relating to his respiratory system. 😭😭😭

Yours

Rewaa

hi i’m going to share this, and to everyone who sees this i encourage you to do the same. this go fund me is donation protected. i’m sorry for the hardships everyone has been through. i pray you and the other Palestinians can receive the help you deserve

#free gaza #palestine #free palestine #love #olympics #america #election 2024 #foryou #peace #send help #palestinian genocide #save palestine #palestine news #queer community #interview with the vampire #queer #gravity falls #deadpool and wolverine #miguel o'hara x reader fluff

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g4al4xyrang3r · 1 month

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Out of character announcement

Hello, this is an OOC post from Aleks, but I feel the need to state something important. I have zero ability to donate to ANYONE. Period. I have no job, I have no money, I have no ability to GET a job, or money any time soon. I'm in MY OWN difficult situation right now. I am the youngest of a family of four, and we are struggling to try and not get evicted from our apartment because we can barely afford to pay rent. My phone is broken, and I can't get it fixed any time soon, and we have little food on a constant. I give Gaza my full support, and I hope the best for all of you, but the fact is that I have over four people in my asks asking for money that I do not have. At all. I made my main account into an ask blog for fun, and as an escape from the stresses of my current situation. I am struggling to cope, and my depression is the lowest that it has been in a very long time. If you see this... Please stop asking me for money, or donations. I hate the fact that I can't help, but that is the reality of my situation. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so blunt, but I simply cannot supply what you need. I am a stressed out, jobless, autistic, 19 year old trans man that is struggling to earn his own dependence while also trying to keep from homelessness. And on top of everything else, I live in a house with a toxic mother and parents that argue and scream at each other constantly. I hope that you understand.. Thank you for reading. I'll be back with more Boothill posts and fun stuff soon.. please be patient with me... I'm just one person.. Thank you for your time, and again, I'm so sorry.. Love you all, with care. -Aleks 💙

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ultraviolet-morning-lights · 8 months

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So I will be leaving this space for idk how long, which means I won’t be engaging in swiftie content. The amount of swifties indulging in classism as a way to bring down Joe Alwyn makes me feel completely sick and embarrassed to be a swiftie. All he’s done is promote his works and the efforts of Palestinians, and said not a single word against Taylor. But so many swifties online continue to find it HILARIOUS to bully someone by calling them jobless and poor as if those words are synonymous with being a bad person or a villain. How ignorant can you be? Would you be so hurtful if you knew any low income earners, like people with disabilities (like me), or anyone close to becoming homeless, or know the struggles of friends who have had it rough? How can you feel good indulging in language like that? It’s the most disgusting behaviour I’ve ever seen from swifties and I’ve seen a LOT since I’ve been a Taylor fan since just before Fearless came out. It makes me genuinely uncomfortable, hurt, and has had me on borderline tears because I’ve never felt so alone and isolated by swifties in my life. I thought that in the end we were better, more loving than this. I will continue listening & supporting Taylor but this whole past year has made me feel so separated from her lately. I wish she would speak up but she only spoke up about politics whilst she was with Joe, whose whole family has had a long history in activism. I will always adore her, but I can’t be online with swifties anymore, it hurts too much.

#i can’t escape it just watching a jimmy fallon interview & he’s in a clip of the movie they showed and all the comments….#they were so discriminatory to say the least #like WHY are you so obsessed that Joe isn’t a billionaire like Taylor?#if Taylor actually ever DID date someone who was ACTUALLY poor I feel sorry for them bc you guys are being terrible people #taylor swift #joe alwyn #swiftie #swifties #politics

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tropicalscream · 3 months

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I should be made to get super high and listen to dog hypno stuff and be some/multiple trans ppls pet and everyone's nice to me and kind

and i never have to worry about being homeless or jobless or broken or alone or unloved and touch starved ever again.

૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

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enemyoflactose · 5 months

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You've got me curious about Museumshipping. How would Ishizu try to fix Bakura?

This is kinda long. Sorry for the wait, and any scatter brained nonsense.

This is mostly speculation and Divine Intuition, but the main reason I think Ishizu could fix Yami Bakura is because she seems like the only neutral character in Yugioh. She’s also the only character with no real beef with him.

Like, Yami Bakura has made enemies with everyone else except Ishizu.

Shadi doesn’t like him because he killed him and most of the Plana

Pegasus probably doesn’t like him because he stole his millennium eye and killed him

Yugi doesn’t like him because he tried to steal the puzzle and kill/hurt his friends and lied to him about being a changed person

The rest of the Yugi gang don’t like him for the same reasons (tho I think Tristan would probably hate him the most because he pays the most attention to Ryou)

Ryou sure as hell ain’t trying to redeem him unless it’s right after he dies

Ghost and the Gang are in hell because of him (I hope he sent them to the cool hell)

Marik doesn’t like him because he just doesn’t like him

Odion probably doesn’t like him because he inadvertently got Marik killed by Yami Marik and he just does whatever Marik wants.

Mai probably doesn’t like him because of how he treats the Yugi gang

Aigami fucking hates him

No one else knows who he is

So, that leaves Ishizu as his last option to help at redemption. From what I’ve seen in the anime adaptation, Ishizu doesn’t see Yami Bakura as much of a threat (due to her necklace) and Yami Bakura just flat out has no clue who she is. I think these factors would make them willing to not only interact, but also maybe help each other out.

Maybe since Ishizu wants to protect ancient artifacts, and Yami Bakura likes stealing them. They both benefit by having Ishizu possibly pay him to go and find any missing artifacts. I just get the feeling that since he’s technically King of Thieves whether you think he’s more Zorc or not, he could find them pretty easily. I think he’d like having an excuse to steal.

There’s also the fact that since Ishizu has the power to look into the past, she could see everything that’s happened to Yami Bakura and begin to understand and sympathize with why he wants the items and why he hates Yami.

She snoops in his past more and more and starts to resent the Pharaoh, but she’s scared of what will happen if she betrays him.

I think it’d be interesting to see her having an internal conflict about this because she was raised to serve the Pharaoh, but at the same he hurt Yami Bakura in ways that can’t ever be forgiven.

Ishizu being the only other person to know both sides of the story could be important to Yami Bakura getting redeemed.

And now time for this plot bunny that has been stuck in my head for a few months.

I think that in the situation where Yami Bakura got his own body sometime after the Memory World arc, he’d fall on some pretty hard times. Not as hard as it could be since he’s the greatest thief to ever exist, but he is homeless, jobless, motivationless, and he probably thinks he’s worth nothing and is a failure. Not because he tried to end the world or anything, but because his revenge plan just didn’t work.

I like to imagine that Ishizu found him one day, pitied him, and decided to let him stay at her house until he feels well enough to get an apartment. She tells him that everything in her house is just as much his as it is hers (to kill any desire to steal since it’s already his. Yes it would work), she makes him food whenever he has no energy to get up, she reasures him that he isn’t a failure just because this one revenge plot didn’t work out for him, and she comforts him.

Over time, Yami Bakura starts to feel bad. Not about hurting Yugi and the gang, but he does feel a little stupid for trying to end the world. The world that Ishizu lives in. This could lead him to trying to help Ishizu around the house to show her mild gratitude, giving her small gifts (usually a hair accessory), and attempting to cook for her. That usually ends in a disaster. A disaster that Yami Bakura expects to get yelled at for and maybe kicked out. To his surprise, that doesn’t happen. Ishizu just laughs at his misfortune with cooking and helps him clean up the mess.

I like to think that at that moment, they slowly begin to fall in love.

Of course I have other ideas for them, but this one has been eating away at me for a long time. It’s such a shame that this could only work as a slow burn longfic because I wanna write so bad.

#yami bakura #yugioh #ishizu ishtar #museumshipping #talking about nonsense

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heyybaejjk · 5 months

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SAU, LA'U TAMA AULELEI - CHAPTER 10 !

pairings; teen!miguel o'hara x fem samoan oc

summary; Siana learns things the hard way. So does Miguel.

warnings/notes; phone sex 🥲 underage sex, gabriel getting walked in on F-F-FUCKING, a lil sprinkle of manaias mum and her lore 😞😉 jealous miguel, busted my ass trying to spell everything in samoan, and its still shit mb gang. trifling ass gabriel 😭 not proofread

series masterlist prev chap next chap

One can only imagine the humiliation someone can experience when they're weeping on the small, sharp rocks laid out in front of the house they once called home. Their fragile body can do nothing but shake and tremble as tears fall continuously down their hot face.

Those in Samoa who didn't have properly built walls around the comfort of their home, just a few pillars to hold a roof, were expected to hear the commotion from the larger house that they enclosed.

"Ga'o lou kē kē mai i lou kaemaile," A voice spat. A voice that held such authority over the poor teenagee that trembled on the ground. "Alu ese ma i!" [1 - just looking over here, you dogshit] [2 - get away from here!]

"Fa'amole, tinā. Fa'amagalo mai iā ke a'u," A held-back cry had been broken into a fit of multiple coughs. Sweaty palms had clasped together as if in prayer, trembling in the cold night, their hot cheeks that stung from numerous blows to the face had only added to the displeasure. The disgust. The shame. [Please mum, forgive me]

Siana was only 17 when she was kicked out of her family home. She was a disgrace, a disappointment, anything but a daughter in her parent's eyes. Her title as a Chief's and Pastor's only daughter was stripped away from her, leading to nothing. 17, pregnant, and with the little money she had in her pocket, she endured a walk of shame as eyes watched her leave her village. She was left living in the streets of Apia.

There isn't much a girl at her age can do when alone with little money and dressed in clothes that'll start to stink within the next day or two, as well as jobless. She most definitely wasn't going to be comfortable sleeping on the hard, freezing floor in front of the small shops she used to hang around with her friends. And she most definitely wasn't going to find it easy sleeping at all near those who were homeless, those who she made fun of with her friends for not having a proper roof over their heads. Now look at her. Alone, cold, and homeless.

Her knowledge of the work field was limited to nothing. How could she know anything? She was a spoilt child with no sense of knowledge on anything but her wants and needs. She didn't think that other teenagers her age needed to work because she didn't. She had money, food, a warm place to sleep; and necessities that people her age had to work for when their parents had it hard.

Nonetheless, Siana found herself sitting down, head and back against a wall while she had her arms wrapped around her legs that were clutched tight to her chest. There, she slept for the night.

Miguel had woken up in annoyance, scratching the back of his head roughly as he sat up. Heavy hands run through his soft brown hair, "Fuck," he mutters. He looks over to his alarm clock and it reads 3:16 am. Miguel wasn't the type to wake up in the middle of the night for nothing. Something had reached his ears, he's not crazy, he knows he isn't.

He sighs and tries not to think too deeply about his sudden awakening, now resting his back against the headboard. Sucking in a deep breath, arms now crossed against his chest. He closes his eyes to relax, taking in the silence and slow breathing as a source of meditation. He doesn't remember much of his dream before it was ruined. What he does however remember, is holding the face of the most beautiful girl he's ever laid his eyes on.

Her face was like a puzzle piece that fit perfectly between his larger hands. Her doe eyes caught him in a trance, long eyelashes fluttering up at him. Miguel's hands were gentle with her, a thumb strumming against her smooth cheek, admiring her eternal beauty. Ever so plump lips curve into a gorgeous smile, then form into a shy grin as her eyes avert their gaze from his own. Honey brown eyes are forced to look into his own as he chuckles deeply, his head tilting as he follows her moving gaze.

"Look at me, Manaia," he finally whispers to calm her flustered state. She complies, now looking at up him with those same beautiful eyes. His eyes drop down to her lips as they open, "Miggy-"

"M-Mh! Gabriel" a distorted whimper calls out from the room next to Miguel's.

Then he finally hears what woke him up. He knew it, he knew he wasn't crazy.

Annoyed and furious. Miguel rushes and rips away his sheets from himself, getting up and putting on his night glasses. Too enraged, he walked out of his room without a shirt, the cold air of the early hours in the morning was most definitely not his main concern.

Without knocking, Miguel opens the door to Gabriel's room.

Gabriel whose face turns into disbelief, grabs his blanket to cover the lower half of his body at the sound of his door being opened.

"What the fuck is wro-"

"Who is it?" Miguel stomps closer, not caring about whatever the fuck he caught his brother doing.

"What-" Gabriel reaches along his bed and puts on his shirt that was disregarded an hour prior to cover himself more at each step Miguel took.

"Hang the fucking phone up," his nose flares, eyebrows creased. Not caring for answer, a loud bang is heard when Miguel hoists Gabriel by the collar of his shirt and slams him against his headboard, to which Gabriel groans, his own hands trying to push Miguel away, "Who the hell were you calling!?" Miguel yells.

If Gabriel weren't much of a fool, he would've noticed the slightly hurt tone in his older brother's voice. He could've also seen the tears that threatened to fall.

"Fuck! Get off me!" his hands flare everywhere, "I already hung up when you barged in like a fucking psycho!"

Still not getting the answer he needed, Miguel pulls his brother forward and harshly back against the headboard. Gabriel coughs harshly. Miguel sucks a breath in. He had to ask. He had to know.

And with what he asks, and what answer he gets is going to be all on him for being too overdrawn by emotion.

With a shaky breath, he glares into Gabriel's soul, "Was it Manaia you were on call with?

Gabriel, now stunned, his flaring hands had rested against his bed to keep himself up. A smirk arose on his face, all shock and anger had been thrown away. With a prideful grin, he chuckles deeply, "Yeah, it was her, Miggy. Got a problem?"

There was no way. There was no way in Hell it was her.

"Show me. Show me your fucking call history," he watches Gabriel grab his phone, "Don't move your phone away and delete shit. Unlock your phone and show me, Gabriel."

As Gabriel unlocks his phone, he taps onto the call app and shows his history.

Miguel's heart drops and shatters into pieces. Lo and behold the top name on his call list.

Manaia 💜 last ongoing call was at 3:19 pm

Sione <3: na na na come onnn

Sione <3: 'cause i may be bad but im perfectly good at itttttt

Sione <3: sex in the airrrr idc i love the smell of ittttttt

naia fiyah: what do you want dood 😞

naia fiyah: u started the song off wrong btw 😕🤞

Sione <3: mf why did you deactivate your insta account again 😒 yo ass is always trynna be mysterious

naia fiyah: BECAUSE WE HAVE EXAMS IN TWO WEEKS MAYBEEEE? yk my routine stupid tongan

Sione <3: youve been hanging around david and kiuga too much to get that language

Sione <3: and come school you ass, im in the library by myself and you've been coming late for the past week 🥲 imy

naia fiyah: my mum had one of those nights again, i have to wait until she wakes up and make sure she eats :(( and yk pele never does things around the house

naia fiyah: and not a lot of buses come around my house around 8, ill be there during first breakkk

naia fiyah: oh and i have a favor to ask sione

Sione <3: nope

naia fiyah: please i'll buy u food :(

Sione <3: aww u love me that much you'd spend money on me 🥹 u broke asssss

Sione <3: what is it dawg

naia fiyah: i really need to talk to miguel, i dont have his number and i wanted to apologise to him for something and i feel bad

Sione whines into his arm, "Stupid Samoan," he cries. Hiding his face in the arch of his bent arm, the other arm stretched out to watch his screen turn black. He sends a quick text confirming his part in the favour.

"Good morning, Sione," Miguel greets from behind, "Are you okay?"

Sione turns around and is met with Gabriel instead.

Oh.

Sione had forgotten how eerily similar, yet oddly different the O'Hara brothers were. The voice, hair, and face in some way were nearly the same.

Gabriel hadn't been in his new high school for more than two months, and people already mixed him up with the older O'Hara. None can blame him. One can, however, distinguish who was who if they tried.

Miguel was taller. On the buff side. Speaks only when spoken to. Most of all, he never talks to girls in the way they want to be spoken to, let alone touched. Miguel doesn't talk to girls in general, unless it's Manaia. For good reason, of course.

But now that reason was gone.

Gabriel on the other hand? He was lean and tall, but overthrown by his brother. For sure, friend requests were blowing up his phone by the time he had gotten home on his first day.

Sione nods his head in acknowledgement, "Uh yeah, yeah, m'fine. Thanks, Gabriel."

As much as Sione was desperate to befriend the younger sibling of his close friend, he wanted to back out of that idea. The eagerness compared to weeks ago was gone. He had no relation to Gabriel outside of school like he did with Miguel, and he had a feeling as to why. So he distanced himself from Gabriel as much as he could.

"Ah, good morning, Miggy," Gabriel sends a smirk to Miguel, the said boy who makes his way over to both of the teenagers.

Sione feels relief at the sight of his friend.

Miguel grumbles, his piercing eyes never leaving Sione, not wanting to ever look his brother in the eye. He takes a seat beside Sione, facing away from Gabriel, who stays standing up.

"Morning, Miguel. Manaia said she'd be here late, BUT- she does want to talk to you," he wraps a friendly arm around Miguel's shoulder. He feels disheartened when he gets shrugged off.

He chuckles dryly, looking over to Gabriel, "Like she'd want to talk to me. She was talking an awful lot last night with Gabriel."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Sione asks.

He looks back and forth between Miguel and Gabriel. To this, Gabriel just shrugs and lets out a small laugh before walking off.

"Oh, you're so funny, Gabriel!" a chuckle had left Manaia, she covers her mouth as she continues walking.

She has just arrived when the first break of the day started. She was greeted by Gabriel first, she didn't have a chance to find the rest of her friends as his arm was already draped along her shoulder.

Losing track of time, the bell had already gone as they spent their time together laughing and mucking around together.

Manaia while slightly disheartened at not seeing Sione, she turns to look at Gabriel.

"I have to go now, Gabri. I have English with Sione and Miguel now," she doesn't fight back a smile at the mention of the said O'Hara. Gabriel notices and bites back a smile himself.

"Oh right, yeah, Miguel," he looks down at the beautiful girl and gives her a feigned sad look. "You're interested in my brother, I'm guessing?"

Manaia hides her face in her hands, "No, not at all!"

"Hm, sure, sure."

All she had to do was say yes, and his plan was intact.

"Now, I thought you were a good girl. Don't good girls tell the truth?" Gabriel raises a brow, his free hand tickling her side.

She giggles, "Okay! Okay!"

She stops her steps, and Gabriel follows.

Now completely facing him, she takes his hands into hers and sways side to side to keep herself content, trying to ignore the shy feeling deep inside of her at the thought of Miguel.

"Miguel and I had a bit of an argument not too long ago," she shows a small pout, "But I want to be close to him again."

Perfect.

"Oh? That's perfect. I can help you out, Manaia," his charming smile hid his devious smirk.

Everything was in his favour.

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#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara x reader

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