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babybluebex · 3 months

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venus pt.2 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and angus pilfer from the chapel on your first night alone together at barton, and, after angus gets hurts and drags you into his lie, you're reminded of the worst moment of your life. not to worry, though; angus manages to soothe your sorrows, while simultaneously confusing the hell out of you. PART 2 OF ? (14k words) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss, drug use and drinking, graphic descriptions of injuries, a tiny little morsel of fake dating yum yum, is anyone else familiar with the spider game grumps bit? spider punch! spider kick! spider...? 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: icymi, i'm splitting this fic up into several smaller parts, just bc i'm not sure tumblr will actually let me post one big chunk of text the way i wanted to (it might exceed the character limit eesh) ((also i didn't wanna make yall wait forever for another part of this hehe)) if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, thank u for ur patience and enjoy!

The first evening of just you and Angus alone felt like an extended stint in hell. He was still cold and bitter, hardly speaking at all at dinner, and it made your skin crawl. You hated the silence, the feeling like you had done something wrong, even though you knew that you hadn’t, and, after dinner, in the television room, you sat next to Mary as Angus sat away from everyone else, trying to pretend like he was reading. You knew better than that, though; every time you chanced a look at him, his eyes weren’t following the lines on the page and he looked… Tired. Staring off into space, obviously lost in thought.

He only spoke when Hunham mentioned something about writing a monograph, inquiring why Hunham didn’t just write a full book, and Hunham laughed at him. “I’m not sure I have a whole book in me,” Hunham chuckled, and Mary gave you a forlorn look, reading your mind.

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary mumbled, and Hunham fixed his jaw firmly but said nothing in return.

The room at night was cold and lonely. You put on a sweater and two pairs of sweatpants before you slid into bed, looking out the window at the inky black night. Every so often, you would hear the wind howl outside and see fat snowflakes pass by the window, and eventually your eyes slipped closed, and you drifted off into an uneasy, blank sleep.

It felt like moments later that you heard a whispering shuffle, and a sudden hiss of your name roused you. You winced at the light that streamed through the ajar door from the hallway, and you squinted to see Angus’s silhouette. “What d’ya want?” you mumbled groggily.

“Come on,” Angus said, jerking his head towards the hallway. His hair was messy, wearing his winter coat, and your sight drifted down to his hands to see him carrying a large, silver flashlight, and—

“Are those— Why do you have Hunham’s keys?” you groaned.

“Just come on!” Angus huffed.

You reached over to the little table beside your bed and snatched up your wristwatch, and you squeezed the button on the side to turn the little light on to see the time. “Fuck, Angus, it’s like four in the morning!” you groaned. “Fuck off!”

“C’mon, you won’t regret it,” Angus told you. “Put on your coat and shoes, let’s go.”

For some reason, you did as he told you, lacing up your sneakers and shrugging on your jacket, and you followed Angus as he led you out of the infirmary, sneaking past Hunham’s open door. You heard his snoring from inside, but you didn’t stop, catching up with Angus’s long-legged stride. He shined the flashlight down the dark hallways of the school, not speaking a word to you as he led you to the kitchen. It was pitch-black in there, even with the flashlight, but Angus moved with certainty, taking you to the big freezer towards the back of the room. You almost wanted to question him, ask exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing, but you stayed quiet as he wrenched the freezer door open.

“Go grab a spoon,” he told you as he winced in the fluorescent lights inside the freezer.

“What for?” you asked.

“You remember that ice cream they gave us at the start of the semester?” Angus asked. You nodded slowly, remembering how dinner on the first day of classes had included individual scoops of vanilla ice cream; it was unusual and special, but you remembered not having eaten it and turning it over to Teddy. You followed Angus’s gaze into the freezer, and you spotted the cardboard tub of vanilla ice cream, sitting and waiting.

You furrowed your eyebrows, but you slinked back into the kitchen and used the light of the freezer to find a single spoon, an oversized serving spoon. “Won’t we get in trouble?” you asked, passing the spoon to Angus, and he pulled the tub of ice cream into his grip and wrestled the lid off. The carton itself was frosted over, freezer-burnt to all hell, but Angus still attacked the mound of ice cream with the spoon. He scooped it into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose as he shook his head.

“I doubt it,” he replied. “How will they ever know? And by the time they figured out someone’s eaten out of here, they’ll never be able to trace it back to us.”

“Woah, us?” you repeated. “What ‘us’? You’re the one going to town on that right now.”

Angus looked at you with those almond-shaped dark eyes of his, and you scoffed at the little white splotches of ice cream on the corner of his lips. “We can change that,” Angus said, offering you the spoon.

You shook your head. “I don’t eat ice cream,” you told him.

“So, that’s what your fuckin’ problem is,” Angus chuckled. “You’re not judgmental or anything like that; you’re just low on joy.”

“Fuck off,” you said as you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon,” Angus said. “Blood oath or whatever… Except it’s vanilla ice cream.”

Your chest roiled. It felt like a petty thing, not to eat ice cream anymore, but you couldn’t help it. It just felt too bad. The memories were too hard, and even the experience of eating what you had been in that dreadful moment was too much. You remembered it like it was yesterday; your dad had taken you to Dairy Queen, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the fact that your sisters weren’t with you was odd. After all, you supposed with hindsight, he wasn’t their dad; just yours. He had his typical ice cream sandwich while you had a cone, and he had walked on eggshells as he explained to you what the word “draft” meant. It was hardly two years ago, you were old enough to know what it meant. You chose not to remember the rest of that night, but you stayed steadfast— you hadn’t eaten ice cream since.

“What sorta blood oath?” you asked warily.

Angus shrugged. “If you don’t kill me over the next two weeks, I won’t kill you,” he said.

You quirked your mouth for a moment, trying to convey to him that you were considering it. “I told you, I don’t eat ice cream,” you said as you crossed your arms.

“Is this some kinda girl thing I don’t get?” Angus asked. “Depriving yourself of dessert or whatever?”

“I’m lactose intolerant, you dick,” you fibbed quickly. “Sorry if I don’t want an upset stomach at four in the morning.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, going back for another bite. “It’s really mediocre.” That got a laugh out of you, and Angus smiled.

He gave up on the ice cream soon after that, putting it back and washing off the spoon (“Getting rid of the evidence”, he said), and you dug your hands into the pocket of your coat. “Is that it?” you asked, and Angus laughed.

“No, man,” he said. “I got more.”

“Jesus,” you groaned, but, for some reason, you followed him out to the hall and down the corridors. It was still dark outside, and Angus fumbled with the keys and flashlight as you approached the door to the chapel. “Alright, whatever you’re planning to do in here, I’m nearly certain I don’t wanna be a part of it.”

“You know they’ve got wine in here?” Angus asked, passing off the flashlight to you so he could find the correct key.

“Duh,” you said. “Catholics really buzz off wine in communion.”

“Didn’t your old church use wine?” Angus asked. He tried a key on the door, then frowned when it didn’t fit, and moved onto the next option.

“No,” you said. “We didn’t go to church. Only when we visited my dad’s mom, which wasn’t often, but her church used Fanta Grape.”

“What sorta church did your grandma go to?” Angus scoffed. “Church of the High Fructose Corn Syrup?”

“It was mostly flat by the time it got to us, anyway,” you said. “Dad and I usually sat in the back, so he could slip out and smoke mid-service.”

“Smart man,” Angus said. He tried another key, succeeding this time, and the heavy door swung open. It was dark inside the small room, a sort of storage room for the chapel, and the beam of the flashlight hit various pieces of junk scattered around, boxes or whatnot, before it landed on a small credenza pressed against the wall. There was some sort of ceremonial tapestry on the surface, a large ornate goblet on top with a dusty bottle of wine sitting next to it. “Bingo,” Angus mumbled, and he went to the lightswitch on the wall, flicking it on so he could turn off the flashlight. The overhead light crackled and buzzed as it came on, and Angus ushered you inside before shutting the door again.

He was quick to fill the goblet partways with the wine, and he offered it to you silently. At first you hesitated— did you really feel like drinking wine with Angus?— and you quickly grabbed the goblet from his hand and took a sip. You held your face stony, not offering a reaction, and you passed it back to him. “Well?” he asked, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Are there any of those Body of Christ crackers in here?”

Angus gestured towards the heavy furniture against the wall, a sorta “Look for yourself” movement, and he went for the wine as you started through the cabinet. He gave a little shudder at the bitter sourness, then shrugged for himself and took another sip. “Not bad,” he mumbled. You quickly found the tub of little round wafers, and you worked the lid off as you sat down on the floor. You offered him one, which he shook his head at, and he took another sip of wine as he sat down next to you. He leaned up against the side of the credenza while you settled against the wall, and you put a wafer in your mouth, letting it melt a little against your tongue. “What would your body and blood be?” you asked.

“Huh?” Angus grunted.

“Like, Jesus’s body are these rice paper crackers, and his blood is cheap wine,” you explained. “So what would yours be?”

Angus furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. “Well, blood is easy,” he said. “A beer.” You scoffed, and Angus quickly said, “No, no, listen, hear me out. You’ve had a beer before, right?”

“Of course,” you replied.

“Well then, you understand,” Angus sighed. “A nice beer on a hot day… The glass of the bottle is all cold and everything and it’s sweating a little and the weird foam label is tearing from the condensation… Isn’t that, like, a godly experience?”

“Sure,” you giggled. “So, beer for the blood. And the body?”

Angus screwed up his mouth as he considered it, and he finally said, “How about, like, a cheeseburger?”

“Really?” you asked, popping another cracker in your mouth. “Why?”

“It works good with the beer,” Angus said. He reached over to you and stole a cracker, and he chewed on it as he said, “Beer and a burger? What’s better than that? Brings you closer to God and shit like that, right?”

“I mean…” you mumbled. “Yeah, that makes sense. So, taking communion, you do a shot of beer and… What? Take a bite of a burger?”

“Sure,” Angus snickered. “Or a slider, like at a barbeque.”

You laughed, and you reached out to grab at the glass of wine in Angus’s hands. He passed it to you, and you took a sip of it as Angus exchanged for another cracker. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s your body and blood?”

“Hmm,” you murmured. Your body shuddered at the warm bitterness of the wine, and you coughed a little. “A hot coffee.”

“Ew,” Angus sneered. “You drink coffee?”

“Not always,” you said. “Only when I need to warm up. It’s too bitter. But, like, the way your beer is relieving to you, a hot coffee is relieving to me. The same, but different, y’know?”

“Oh, yeah,” Angus said. “Like, coming in from playing in the snow and your fingers are all stiff and cold or whatever… My mom always made us hot chocolate that was pretty much just heavy cream and cocoa powder and some sugar. We’d dip graham crackers in it and sit by the fire and listen to Christmas records…” He trailed off then, and you caught onto his train of thought— used to. Not this year.

“Us?” you asked. “You got a sister or something?”

“No,” Angus said. “My, um… My dad.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Right. Sorry”

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” Angus said.

“Well, a few days ago, when everyone left,” you started in confusion. “You said your dad died.”

The room was quiet for a beat, and Angus shifted as he sat, pulling one of his legs underneath himself. “No,” he said carefully. “No, um… Dad’s still hanging out, but he’s… He’s in the hospital. For, like, the past four years. He’s as good as dead.”

“Shit,” you mumbled. “What happened?”

Angus shrugged, quirking his mouth. “He got sick,” he said simply. “And Mom thought it would be better to have professionals take care of him instead of us…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to pry or anything.”

“You’re fine,” Angus said. “So, your dad…?”

You nodded solemnly. “His number came up,” you said softly. “He… Had something to prove, I guess, and no reason to try to get out of it. Told me he was gonna go and make me proud of him…” Your throat got thick then, and you trailed off for a moment. “January’s gonna be one year since…”

“Jesus Christ,” Angus said under his breath. “Sorry.”

You quickly wiped at an escaped tear, trying to get rid of it before Angus could see it, and you choked down a cracker. “It’s whatever,” you said. “These things happen, y’know?”

“Yeah, they happen,” Angus said. “But that doesn’t make them any less sad.”

“I don’t care about sad,” you said. “Been too sad lately. All I want is to stop feeling sad.”

Angus tilted his head at you, watching for a moment, and he started to dig into the pocket of his coat. Quietly, he extracted something, a sort-of crushed up cigarette that looked like it had fallen out of the pack and had been jostled in his pocket for months, and he held it out to you. You clocked it immediately, though— the paper too thin, the contents too packed in. You scoffed with a watery voice, twisting at a loose thread on your jacket. “Wow, you really are a Barton boy, huh?” you said. “Getting high and drinking holy wine in the chapel.”

“If it makes you feel better, it’s not mine,” Angus said.

“Whose is it, then?” you asked. “And how did you come to have it?”

“Ah, well,” Angus shrugged. “Kountze the Cunt’s always had it coming for him. I steal his cigarettes, he steals my picture, I steal his last joint out of his bag before he leaves to go ski. What’s that called? Quid pro quo?”

“That’s not really what quid pro quo is,” you laughed. “But I don’t have a lighter. And, furthermore, I don’t smoke weed. Especially not Kountze’s shit.”

“I’ve got the lighter situation covered,” Angus said. He went back into his pocket and extracted a small matchbook, and he added, “And, yeah, you don’t smoke weed, but I’m not even sure this is weed. Knowing Kountze, it’s probably oregano or tea leaves or something. So, smoking this isn’t smoking weed, because there’s a fair chance it’s not weed.”

You pursed your lips as you considered Angus’s offer, and you looked at the ornate goblet in your hands, still a little full. “Fine,” you decided. “But not here. We’re not gonna hotbox the chapel storage room.”

“Aw, we’re not?” Angus whined jokingly. “I really think that’ll give us God points.”

“Yeah, sure,” you chuckled. “Get enough of them, and you can redeem them for a free large soda at the check-out counter.”

You helped each other drain the last of the wine out of the cup, and you pocketed a handful of crackers as you exited the room. Angus did well to lock up behind him, to make sure nothing seemed awry or unusual on the off-chance that Hunham checked the grounds, and Angus led you through the school to the main interior entrance to the chapel. It was as cold in there as it was outside, and still just as dark, and your eyes adjusted to the low light as Angus took a running leap at the raised stage, hopping up there with ease. You followed suit, though not as quickly or gracefully as Angus, and you settled on the piano bench next to him. His long, thin fingers worked to strike one of the matches on the edge of the matchbox, and he brought the flame to the joint nestled between his lips.

You had never really noticed before (because when would you have ever noticed it before?) but Angus had a tiny scar on his upper lip, not really that raised or any different color than the rest of his lip, but it shifted as he puckered his lips around the joint. Come to think of it, Angus’s lips looked… Good? Wrapped around the joint, his lips looked plush and soft, just a hint pinker and darker than the golden-olive tones of his face. And the middle of his top lip poked out a little bit, a bit more pronounced because of his scar. Angus pulled at the joint for a moment before removing it from between his lips, and he offered it to you, and you fixed your expression from focusing on his lips to looking him in the eyes. “Well?” you asked. “Is it marijuana?”

“No,” Angus said. “Well, yes, but it’s Kountze’s ditch weed. So, technically yes, but you’d need to smoke a lot of it to get high.”

“Lemme see,” you said quickly, reaching out for the joint, and he passed it to you. You had only ever smoked once before, back when you went to Central, and you had gotten dizzy and sick, but, as you pulled a toke on this joint, you felt nothing of the sort. Sure, there was that weird herby taste in the back of your throat that made it unmistakingly weed, and you cringed as you blew out the smoke. “Oh, this is shitty,” you chuckled. “Like, super shitty. God, Teddy, where’d you buy this?”

“He only has it to sell to eighth-graders,” Angus shrugged. “Make a quick buck to buy Playboys with.”

“Ew,” you snickered.

“What?” Angus said. “Not a fan of Playboy? Are you more of a Penthouse fan?”

“No,” you said. “I mean, like, no, just… Thinking of Kountze doing that is… Just gross.”

Angus took a drag on the joint, and he said “I guess you’ve kissed a guy before, huh?”

“Excuse me?” you sputtered.

“I mean, there’s not an elegant way to ask if you’ve had sex before,” Angus started quickly. “So, like, gotta build up to it, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking hell,” you mumbled as Angus quickly muttered out a “Sorry, forget I said anything”, and you slowly added, “No. If that answers your wildly-invasive question.”

“‘No’, you’ve never had sex before?” Angus asked. “Or ‘no’, you’ve never kissed a guy before? Or a girl? Are you gay? I don’t really care if you are, but like—”

“Shut up,” you huffed. “Both.”

“Oh,” Angus said. “Not even at your old school?”

“Not even at my old school,” you echoed mirthlessly. “Guys just never really cared about me. There was always some girl who was prettier or funnier, smarter, richer, whatever. I’m nothin’ special.”

“Hm,” Angus grunted.

“What about you?” you asked, taking the joint and pulling at it.

“Oh, I get it regularly,” Angus said. “Yeah, my girlfriend’s a Playboy model. I sneak her into the dorm once a week and— Be serious, of course not.” You laughed as Angus smiled at his own joke. “I’m the same. When I wasn’t going to all-boys schools, girls just never liked me. I’ve always been a weirdo.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I thought you’ve always gone to Barton?” you asked.

“No,” Angus said. “I’ve been kicked out of a ton of schools. S’why I’m still a junior and I’m about to turn 18, I’ve been moved around so much that I ended up falling behind.”

“Why?” you asked.

Angus shrugged. “I’m what they call a ‘troubled youth’,” he said, reciting the title like he didn’t believe it but had been told it too often. “I cheat and steal and get in fights. In fact, Stanley says if I get kicked out of Barton, I’ll be going to Fork Union.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You knew Fork Union; you hadn’t ever been or knew anyone who went there, but its reputation preceded itself. Whoever Stanley was really had it out for Angus. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s… Intense.”

“Yeah,” Angus nodded in agreement. “So I gotta be on my best behavior.”

“And smoking weed in the chapel is what you consider good behavior?” you asked.

“Of course not,” Angus scoffed. “But it’s fun, and that’s what I care about.”

You nodded slowly, and Angus pulled at the joint again before pressing down on one of the keys of the piano with his outstretched pinky finger, hearing a single little chime sound. He seemed to drift off then, going off in thought in silence as he absently passed you the joint. After a few moments, his eyes slid off to the side, and you followed his gaze over to see a small table set up just in front of the stage with a single picture frame on it. You knew the picture: Curtis Lamb. It was something that you and Mary could commiserate on, and you held the utmost respect for her and for the late Curtis.

You declined the joint and got up to go sit in front of the picture. You had never chosen to sit in the front row of the chapel, always trying to be as close to the back door as possible, just like with your dad, and you had never seen that picture of Curtis that close up before. He was handsome, his uniform spotless without a wrinkle, the skin on his face smooth and shiny. He was young— 19.

Angus slowly joined you on the pew, pressing his back against the arm and pulling his legs up to his chest, and he let out a gentle sigh as he too examined the picture of Curtis. “That’s why you like Mary so much,” Angus whispered eventually after a long and heavy bout of silence. “‘Cause you both…”

You nodded. “You can say it,” you mumbled. “S’not the Boogeyman or anything. Saying it doesn’t make it more powerful.”

“I know,” Angus murmured. “But thinking about it… Dying, being killed…” He shook his head, trailing off. “I used to think about it a lot. Back when Dad first got sick.”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked gently.

Angus hummed. “Then Dr. Gertler put me on some pills… They help a little, but sometimes I still… I dunno.”

“Gertler?” you repeated. “That’s your psychologist or whatever it’s called?”

“Yeah,” Angus said. “He used to be my dad’s doctor too, but then Dad went to the hospital, and they’re better for him there. Not that The Gert isn’t good, he is, just… Not what Dad needed.”

You fell into silence then. The purples and blues of the morning began to bleed in through the chapel windows as you and Angus sat still, looking at the picture of Curtis but not seeing it. You were each lost in your own heads, and you found yourself sinking down to the thin, threadbare carpet and settling on your ass, and your head leaned back just so to touch Angus’s hip. You didn’t know him too well— you were clueless about what his favorite color was, but you knew the surface level of his worst trauma— and you wanted to comfort him, but something like holding his hand or hugging him seemed like a bridge too far. So, the slightest contact, a sort-of “I’m right here” seemed like the way to go.

At long last, you heard the heavy creak of the chapel doors opening, and Angus turned to look. You couldn’t see from your vantage point, and the person nor Angus said anything, but you heard the groan of the old wooden pew in the very back row as someone sat down, and, based on the silence and the fact that Hunham was a staunchly non-Christian man, you could deduce that it was Curtis’s mother back there, coming in for her morning prayers.

You all sat quietly, ruminating on your own thoughts, and finally you heard Mary’s smooth and smoky voice, not a yell but not a whisper: “You two better get back in your beds before Mr. Hunham decides to wake up.”

You passed through the aisle towards the front doors of the chapel, and you and Mary locked eyes for a brief moment as you walked by. She gave you a small nod, then closed her eyes and went back to her prayers.

Angus wasn’t a chatty guy to begin with, but the silence as you made your way back to the main building and the infirmary felt suffocating. It was cold as hell, somehow feeling even more biting than the 4AM chill you had felt before, and you nudged away a few slushy snowflakes as you walked up the steps to the doors. “Thanks,” you said finally. “That was, umm…”

Angus shrugged, tugging the key ring out of his pocket carefully to keep the keys from jingling together. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “And now we know where they keep the good wine.”

You managed a halfway-decent smile, and you dug into your jacket pocket and handed Angus a few Christ crackers. “Not a cheeseburger,” you said. “But it’s something.”

You were sleepy throughout the entire day. Even though your excursion only lasted a few hours and didn’t give you any less sleep than a typical bout of insomnia did, you kept yawning throughout your library time and jog around the campus. Angus seemed to be in better shape than you were, his usual sullen self but not in any way looking tired, and you envied him.

The day only brightened by a bit at lunch. You sat next to Angus as you quietly ate, chancing glances at him every so often, and he seemed… Normal. Drinking his Coke, looking past Mary and out the window to the snowy expanse outside. Not attempting any conversation or showing that you had shared a moment just a few hours earlier. Of course, you didn’t expect him to really do that, but the point held true that it was infuriating. When your eyes met, he could have at least smiled instead of averting his eyes like you were Medusa or something.

The brightening came in the form of Hunham setting a large ceramic plate in front of him, covered by a napkin. “I have a surprise,” he announced. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with all of you.”

Quickly, Hunham tugged off the napkin, and you saw a plate of cookies. Sugar, with hard, shiny frosting decorating the different shapes with vibrant Christmas colors. “Look at them,” Hunham added. “Look at the… Festive shapes. Snowflakes… Gingerbread men… A tree… Oh, a little mitten!” He picked up the pastel blue mitten and bit off the thumb, and he contemplated the taste for a moment before looking back up at you and Angus. “And they’ve got frosting!”

Angus’s eyes slid to you, unimpressed, then back at Hunham. “May I go to the bathroom, sir?” he said flatly, already getting out of his chair as Hunham excused him, less of a request and more of a “I’m leaving, here’s my sorry excuse as for a reason why”. You watched Angus stalk out of the dining room, his hands bouncing limply at his sides, and Mary sighed, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Well, I’m trying,” Hunham mumbled half-heartedly, and Mary scoffed out a laugh. Obviously, this was a continuation of a conversation that you had not been privy to, and you kept your thoughts to yourself as you stuck a green bean in your mouth.

The three of you sat in silence for a few moments, long enough for the tick of the second hand on your watch to bore under your skin, and Hunham looked back at the door, as if expecting Angus to come back in. “Where the hell is he…?” Hunham mumbled, and he scooted out his chair noisly.

His shoes clicked across the polished hardwood, and you nudged a few French fries around with your fork. “You’re not eating,” Mary said as the door closed behind Hunham, and you tore your eyes up from your plate to look at her. Her cigarette clutched between her manicured nails, her dark mug of coffee in her palm, she looked every bit of a mother as she should, especially with the soft, sad look in her eyes. She wasn’t admonishing you; she was worried.

You shrugged.

“Do you not want this?” Mary asked. “I’m sure I can find something else back there for you.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I-I’m fine, Mary. Just… Tired, I guess.”

“Mm-hm,” Mary hummed. “Which has nothing to do with your little excursion with that boy earlier, right?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “That wasn’t…” you started. “We were just…” But you stopped yourself before you could tell her why. Why had Angus dragged you out of bed to galavant around the school? From what you could tell, he didn’t particularly like you. “Huh. Weird.”

Mary ashed her cigarette. “All I’ll say is, I’m not your mom. Whatever you and him get up to isn’t my business and I don’t want it to be, but… Don’t let him do too much to ya.”

“God, Mary, we don’t…” you started softly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Mary said coldly. “I meant, don’t let that boy into your head too much. He’s a boy. And boys are, for the most part, dumb assholes. So, whatever he does, don’t let it affect you too much. After all, he’s just trying to—”

The hallway outside the dining room suddenly echoed with a cacophonous “Son of a bitch! That’s another detention!” and a sudden metallic crashing, and you nearly snapped your neck with the speed at which you turned to the door. Before you could even think not to, you got up out of your seat and made your way out the door, just in time to watch Hunham disappear down the corridor. Angus was already on the far side of the hall, the metal trash can tipped over with the lid rolling beside it, and you spotted Hunham’s pink detention pad sitting next to the payphone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, and you trailed after Hunham and Angus at a quick walk, staying a few steps behind Hunham.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Tully, but you are courting disaster!” Hunham called after Angus, and you watched Angus hook a corner, but peek back out at Hunham.

“Without sufficient exercise, the body devours itself,” he said with a cheeky smile, and his gaze landed on you. The smile dropped from his face for just a moment before he disappeared around the corner once more, and Hunham turned to see you. He wasted little time with you, though, going back to his huffing-puffing pursuit of Angus.

“You are careening towards suspension!” Hunham shouted, and you sped up your steps to overtake Hunham, but there was no way you could keep pace with Angus. He was standing in the middle of the doorway, waiting for Hunham to catch up, and you breathed heavily.

“Angus!” you shouted after him, but he picked up the chase once more, allowing you to get within grabbing distance of him before he sped off. “Ang— What the fuck? You— Fork Union!” You couldn’t process your thoughts efficiently, let alone in a good enough way to express what you needed to, and you hoped that the mere mention of the military school would make Angus rethink his decision.

But it didn’t. In fact, he seemed to pick up speed as he ran from you, and you skidded into the trophy room to watch Angus pull off a clumsy cartwheel. The fucker was enjoying himself. Your chest burned with agitation as Angus came to a stop at the open doorway, and an acid bile rose in your throat. The gym.

Before he had fucked off to Haystack, Jason had mentioned how Senator Osgood had paid for a brand-new gym to allow his son Jordan to graduate from Barton, and that apparently Hunham was the one who had failed him and forced the gym to happen. You knew nothing of Jordan Osgood and even less about his right-wing Republican father, but you (along with everyone in Senator Osgood’s district) knew that they had money. And the money seemed to have gone a long way, a basketball court with bleach-white nets hanging from the goals, straight and even hardwood floors with the Barton lion mascot expertly painted on them, tall and high windows that let in a blinding amount of sunlight. But the gym was obviously unfinished, only half of the floor shiny and waxy with lacquer.

You saw what Angus did, and you huffed out a breath. “Angus, please,” you said through labored breaths. “Don’t— You can’t—”

Before you could say more, Hunham came up behind you, in a similar winded state as you. You watched Angus’s back straighten, and Hunham held out a warning finger to him. “Don’t even think about it, Mr. Tully,” he said. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you. You hear me? Wash my hands!”

Angus took half a step forward, the toe of his shoe touching the gym floor, and Hunham said, “Stop right there. You know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon!”

Angus slowly turned to look at you and Hunham, a coy smile on his scarred lips. He gave a light, taunting shrug, then flicked his eyebrows, and said something in Latin. If you had been in a better mindset, you could have translated it in the moment, but you weren’t, and you watched Angus wink at you, then charge across the floor into the gym, towards that fucking gymnastics vault.

You had never watched someone get seriously hurt before. You hated the idea of it— even watching a scary movie was a little too extreme. But time seemed to slow down as you watched Angus bounce off the springboard and go ass-over-head over the vault, landing with a thundering thud and a sickly sound of flesh against the thin mat. Not a snap, but definitely the sound of an injury. The air was still and stagnant for a long second, a second that felt like a lifetime, before a shrill scream cut through the air.

“Oh, fuck! Mr. Hunham!”

The next few minutes felt like a blur. You ran into the gym and helped Angus to his feet, holding down vomit at his limp left arm— not that it would have mattered; Angus had already taken care of that for you. You pawned him off to Hunham, then somehow, you mechanically went back to the infirmary and gathered your coat, Angus’s coat, and Hunham’s coat and keys. You felt numb, out of your body, listening to Hunham and Angus bicker back and forth the whole car ride to the nearest hospital. You were quiet, letting Angus lean into you and sniffle and cry at the pain, and you saw his eyes all red and glassy as he choked back his tears. He was scared. You grabbed his hand— the good one, not the one he had raised and trembling with the effort— and his sniffles quieted down to pathetic whimpers.

“This is the end,” Hunham said, and you snapped back into your head in an instant. You don’t remember having gotten to the hospital, let alone maneuvering Angus inside and to the emergency room, but somehow you were there, Angus wedged between you and your teacher on the bench, his hand still clasped in yours. “They’ll inform the school, who’ll inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You are gonna get me fired. You!”

Angus sniffled. “I’m the one who might lose an arm, and all you can think about is yourself.”

You sighed. “That’s dramatic, Angus,” you mumbled.

“When I get my arm chopped off, will you help me carry my books to class?” Angus asked.

“I’m not helping you with shit,” you snapped.

Before Angus could snark back at you, a nurse came, dressed in white, and she handed a clipboard and a plastic ballpoint pen to Hunham. Her eyes glazed you, then Angus, and she said, “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”

Insurance. Fuck. You hadn’t even thought about that. Hunham’s face went sour and pale, and he slowly started to fill out the first box, putting A-N-G in block letters, but Angus spoke in a clipped voice. “Excuse me,” he said, and the nurse turned back to him. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”

The nurse sighed. You recognized that sigh; your mother did the same one with her customers at the diner. The ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’. “It’s just standard procedure,” she said.

“I understand. But look…” Angus started. He chewed his lip at Hunham, then looked at you, then turned back to her with a breath. “We were over at Squantz Pond playing hockey… And I slipped on the ice.”

“Angus,” Hunham said in a hushed tone. “What’re you doing?”

“My mom told him not to take me, but I made him,” Angus continued, and Hunham looked past Angus to you, seeing if you had any idea what stunt Angus was pulling now. You were just as lost as him, though, and you watched Angus with a curious enrapturement as he spun his yarn. “My folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”

“Okay, that’s your business,” the nurse said, sighing again. “But we just have certain protocols.”

“Y-Yeah, protocols,” Hunham protested weakly, but Angus bulldozed right over him with more lies.

“Please,” Angus said, his eyes going all glassy again. “I never get to see my dad, a-and I just wanted him to meet my girlfriend.” A hot shock ran down your skin, blazing in your cheeks, as you understood that you were the supposed girlfriend. God, you were going to strangle Angus Tully when this was all done. “It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He gave Hunham a pathetic little glance, his bottom lip wobbling, and his voice was all broken as he added, “I don’t want her dragging you to court again.” He sniffled and squeezed your hand, and you pulled his hand into your lap, stroking his soft skin with your thumb. “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”

Angus didn’t drop your hand the entire time. He held onto you as the three of you were led to an exam room, and he shied away from the nurse (she never told you her name) as she tried to take off his sweater. He mumbled something about his shoulder, how he couldn’t move it right, and you carefully nudged in front of where he sat on the exam table, flexing your hand to get him to let go. Quietly, you tugged Angus’s maroon sweater up as far as it would go before he groaned in pain, and you swallowed thickly. “I know, Ang,” you said gently. “It’s alright, baby.”

His eyes got all big at you as you played the role he had assigned to you, and with gentle encouragement from his beloved “girlfriend”, you managed to get the sweater off his right arm and have it slide off his left arm. Next came his robin’s-egg-blue buttoned shirt, and you sighed as you focused on the small plastic buttons, not able to look Angus in the eye. As calm as you seemed on the surface, you were screaming and cursing and spitting like a possessed woman inside. You were so angry at him, for everything— for disobeying Hunham, for getting himself hurt, for roping you into his kinda-sorta insurance fraud. If you could have slapped him across the face, you would have. But you couldn’t, so you settled for a sweet kiss on his cheek and a whispered “There you go” as his shirt came off. That left him in his thin white undershirt, and you balked at his pale skin, but particularly the way his shoulder stuck out grotesquely. You could tell from a glance— dislocated. “Jesus…” you whispered, and the nurse moved you aside.

“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes the things you see here are a little sickening. But you’ve been more than enough help; thank you, sweetie.”

“Guess you’re not going to nursing school, huh?” Angus chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and you folded his sweater and shirt over your arms.

“You know how I get with blood, Ang,” you said softly. “Nursing school was never gonna be for me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Angus hummed, as if he knew anything about you and was just being reminded of this fact. “Hey, remember back in August, at the football game against Choate, when Jason got flattened by that linebacker?”

You had never gone to a single Barton football game, but obviously Angus had a point to why he brought this up, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you said carefully. “Umm, i-isn’t that the same day Kountze invited us to that bonfire?”

“Yeah,” Angus nodded along with your addition. “I think you were somewhere else, bathroom or something, but Jason just got pummeled by this dude that was twice his size—”

“I was with his girlfriend when that happened,” you said. “She was hysterical.”

“But he got up and went back to the sideline, and I went down to talk to him,” Angus said, wincing as the nurse worked his undershirt over his head. “And his mouth was all full of blood, but he was laughing ‘cause he said Jenny was gonna be doting all over him for the next week.”

You nodded. “And she did,” you said. “That was… Kinda gross to watch, actually.”

Angus shrugged, but immediately regretted it, hissing in pain at the involuntary action. “That’ll be us,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m all injured and everything, and you get to take care of me.”

“Get to?” you repeated. “You make that sound like a privilege.”

“I took care of you when you got your wisdom teeth taken out last year,” Angus said, and your hand went lightly to your jaw. How in the fuck did he know you didn’t have your wisdom teeth? Had he seen it? When? “Now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t sign up for that,” you chuckled.

“Sure you did,” Angus said. “That was in the fine print when I asked you to go steady.”

You rolled your eyes. “I think the pain’s making you delirious,” you said.

“We’ll get him some pain medication soon,” the nurse said. “First, we’re gonna have to X-ray your shoulder. Your dad and girlfriend are gonna be right here, we’re just going down the hall.”

The silence in the exam room once Angus left was deafening, and Hunham stood opposite you. Every so often, he looked like he wanted to say something, then would change his mind, and he finally settled on “I can hold Mr. Tully’s things.”

“I-I’ve got it,” you said softly. You held his clothes a little closer to your chest and chewed your lip nervously, and you mumbled, “I guess we’re lucky… It could be worse.”

“We don’t know how bad it is yet,” Hunham said, and you shrugged.

“At least he’s not, like… Dead,” you offered. “His arm’s just a little messed up.”

Hunham sighed but said nothing else, seemingly agreeing with you. You let yourself shift your weight as you waited, and your fingers itched in Angus’s sweater. It was soft, and still a little warm from his body, and you buried your cold hands in it.

Angus returned soon after, and the air was prickly with silence until a doctor walked in. Dressed in a white lab coat, he carried a thin piece of plastic, and he smiled thinly at Hunham before he threw the plastic sheet onto the lightbox on the wall and flipped it on. There, as clear as day, was an X-ray of Angus’s fucked-up shoulder, the ball-and-socket joint clearly not ball-and-socket anymore. “The good news is nothing’s broken,” the doctor told you, and Hunham audibly sighed.

“Thank God,” he said.

“But you did dislocate your shoulder pretty badly,” the doctor added, eyeing Angus down. “That was quite a tumble you took, kid. What happened?”

You saw Angus look at the nurse out of the corner of his eye, and, knowing that he had to stay with the fib he told, you chimed in quickly. “We were playing hockey,” you said. “Or, rather, Angus was playing hockey, and me and… His dad were watching. The ice was slippery, and Ang just… I don’t know, one second he was up, the next he was down.”

“Was trying to impress you,” Angus mumbled, and you lovingly brushed down his messy curls.

“I know,” you said. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

“I take it you’re the girlfriend, then,” the doctor said.

“It would seem that way,” you said lightheartedly, but you gave a secret, harsh tug to the bottom of Angus’s hair as retribution. He winced and sucked in a tight breath, and the doctor nodded a bit.

“What’s that mean?” Angus asked. “Like, I know what dislocating is, but what does that mean for me?”

“That means your arm has popped out of the socket,” the doctor said. He moved away from the X-ray and went to join the nurse at the side of Angus’s exam bed, and they wordlessly began to move him onto his back. “And we just have to pop it back in.”

“Is it gonna hurt?” Angus asked, and you watched panic fill his eyes as the nurse’s hand brushed the skin of his upper arm, and he winced in pain.

“Not if you relax,” the doctor told him. He turned around to the small counter behind him, where the nurse had laid a bundled-up bedsheet, and he started to shake it out and loop it around Angus’s torso as he added, “The key is to relax. Deep breaths.”

You watched the doctor and the nurse expertly wind the bedsheet around Angus, and you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “What’re you doing?” you asked.

“We are making a sort-of slipknot,” the doctor told you. “We’re going to pop his arm back in, and then he’ll be right as rain, with only a little discomfort afterwards, but the Percodan we’ll give him will take care of all of that.”

Angus said your name, his voice a little shaky, and, even though you had never heard him talk like that before, you knew that he was scared. You stepped forward just a touch, close but not too close, but, as the medical professionals began to gently pull his arm back, readying it, Angus’s free hand shot out like lightning and gripped your fingers. His eyes were squeezed shut, holding his breath, his neck and ears red, and you looked at the doctor for a moment before you said, “Ang, baby, it’ll be okay. Just one second where it hurts really bad, then it’ll be over. Can you do it for one second?”

“...Think I’m gonna puke again…” Angus mumbled.

“That’s okay,” you said soothingly.

“Don’t wanna puke on you,” Angus added, and you frowned.

“I’ll just throw everything in the washer when we get back,” you said with a shrug. The doctor made eye contact with you from behind Angus, and he flicked his eyebrows at you in a way that told you to keep talking. Distract Angus, so he can’t see it coming. “How about, when we get back, we can watch TV?” you started, trying to find anything to blabber about for long enough. “I think a new episode of Bonanza comes on tonight. But, God, I missed the last few weeks, I have no idea what’s going on anymore. Is Hoss still courting that fancy lady? I thought maybe that was done, but I heard something about it on the radio the other day, so who knows—”

At that moment, the doctor and the nurse yanked the bedsheet in opposite directions, and Angus writhed and wormed as he let out a guttural gurgle and hiss, then a pathetic yelping scream as his shoulder went back right with a wet pop that made your neck hair stand on end. You heard Hunham behind you give a scoff of “Jesus!”, and then the ordeal was over.

Angus moved his left arm slowly as the doctor rattled about the medication he was prescribing, something where Angus couldn’t drive while on it or drink alcohol or mix with other medication, and you nodded along as you listened. Angus worked himself into his undershirt and threw his buttoned shirt on, and you took over doing up his buttons. He frowned at the sight of his sweater, though, and you knew that lifting his arm to get it into the sleeve was maybe asking too much, so you held onto it as they fixed a sling around his neck and looped his left arm in it.

“Take care, young man,” the doctor said. “And keep her around. Hard to find someone who cares about people like that nowadays.”

The first significant thing Hunham said since arriving at the hospital was spoken as the three of you approached the pharmacy counter, prescription in hand. “Barton men don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Angus asked.

“Barton men don’t lie,” Hunham clarified.

“Yeah, well,” Angus sighed. “I had momentum.”

Hunham passed the paper prescription across the counter to the pharmacist, and he mumbled, “Hello, we have this, uh…”

The pharmacist looked over his glasses at the paper, then up to Angus, then Hunham, and finally you. “Percodan, huh? Gimme a few minutes.”

He went off in search of the requested medication, and Hunham paused for a moment before adding, “You too, Miss, you’re included in this.”

“What, was I supposed to refute all of that?” you asked. “We were already committing insurance fraud, might as well play along as best we can.”

“And you said that if Woodrup finds out, you’re screwed,” Angus interjected. “So now he won’t find out.”

“What happens if your parents inquire?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face darkened for a moment as he scoffed flatly.

“Never gonna happen,” he said. “Trust me.”

Hunham looked obviously confused at the certainty of Angus’s words, but nevertheless said “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”

“Oui, monsieur,” Angus said, screwing up his face mockingly. Then, a coy smile crossed his lips, and he said, “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Hunham repeated, glaring at Angus. “Oh no, do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”

“All I’m looking for is a little thank you that I did something nice for you,” Angus said. “That’s all.” After a moment, he flashed Hunham a cheeky smile.

You swallowed thickly. “You look real stupid with your hand dangling out of the sling like that,” you said quickly. You don’t know what possessed you to say that, and Angus scoffed.

“God, you’re mean,” Angus said. “What happened to the little kisses and the ‘baby’s and shit?”

“You think I enjoyed doing that?” you asked. “Fuck, Angus, grow up. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned heel and made your way to the nearby bathroom, adorned with a silver plaque with a little stick woman on it, leaving the boys in a confused dust behind you.

Lucky for you, it was a single stall situation, a big room able to accommodate a wheelchair or walker, and, once inside, you quickly flipped the lock on the door and sighed. Your heart was racing, your cheeks hot— in honesty, you did enjoy all of that. Something about it felt almost cathartic, pretending to have a healthy and loving relationship with someone, like you were acting out your greatest fantasy. Whether or not Angus was a part of that fantasy or just a placeholder until David Cassidy paid Barton a visit, you weren’t sure, but your heart ached and cried. You didn’t want to pretend— you wanted the real thing. And the fact that you’d never get the real thing, at least not anytime soon, made your eyes burn with tears. Just more evidence to the fact that your life was doomed from the start— nobody wanted you, plain and simple.

You slammed at the tap, turning it on to run cold water over your hands, and you pressed your hands to your burning cheeks, trying to calm down. You took a deep breath, then another, and you shucked off your jacket and tugged Angus’s red sweater over your head. It smelled like him, clean but also a little sharp from the sheer boyishness of it all, and you slid your jacket back on.

By the time you left the bathroom, Angus had worked himself partially into his coat, a small paper baggie in hand that rattled with pills against the glass bottle. “We’re getting dinner,” Hunham told you, his tone indicating to you that he and Angus had had a battle while you were absent and he was the loser. His eyes swept your frame, obviously catching Angus’s sweater on your body, but he said nothing about that.“There’s a small place in town.”

“I-I didn’t bring my pocketbook,” you started to protest, but Angus dug into the pocket of his corduroy pants and produced his own wallet.

“I’ve got it,” he said simply, and gave you the same smile he had given Hunham.

The chosen dinner spot, a small pub called the Winning Ticket, was surprisingly bustling with activity. Music played from the bar portion of the place, competing against Nixon on the television and the dinging of pinball machines, and the air felt warm but not thick, the way some restaurants could feel. You slid into the booth first, then Angus settled himself next to you, nudging your arm with his slinged elbow (he had shifted his arm backwards after your comment about his hand, so now only his fingers spilled over the edge), and Hunham sat across from you.

“I think I’ll start with a beer,” Angus said, and Hunham scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully,” Hunham told him.

“We’ve had a hard day,” Angus continued. “We deserve to loosen up a little.”

“You’ve had ten milligrams of Percodan,” Hunham said. “You’re plenty loose already.”

He was right. Angus had swallowed down two of the pills in the backseat of Hunham’s Nova on the drive over, and already he was acting differently, just a little lighter and less reserved. It wasn’t a dramatic change, and you might not have noticed it, but Percodan Angus almost reminded you of Holy Wine and Joint Angus.

“They’ve got Miller High Life!” Angus said, looking down at the laminated menu that lay waiting on the table. “‘The Champagne of Beers’!”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked. “You and what identification, Mr. Seventeen Years Old?”

“Hey, if you could have a beer, you would,” Angus told you.

“Oh, I can,” you told him. “If the bartender’s a guy, I just gotta flutter my eyelashes at him, and I’ll get whatever I want.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you became very aware of your teacher’s presence across the table from you, and you cleared your throat. “O-Or so I’ve heard.”

Before anything else could be said, a waitress approached, and your face lit up. Dyed ginger hair, fun earrings, a soft face and kind eyes.

“Miss Crane!” Hunham beat you to the punch, and your Secretarial Studies teacher glowed. “As I live and breathe! What are you doing here?”

“Hi, guys!” Miss Crane laughed. “And our sweet Barton girl, how’re you, darling? Uh, yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

Hunham took a moment to respond, still smiling at Miss Crane, and he stammered out, “Oh, this is Mr. Tully—”

“Oh, sure, I know you,” Miss Crane said, and Angus gave her a smile.

“Angus Tully,” he introduced himself. “We met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

Miss Crane gave you an amused smile, and you shared a laugh. “I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part,” she said.

“And, of course, Miss Y/N,” Hunham added.

“It’s good to see you,” Miss Crane cooed. “I was worried I wasn’t going to see you before you moved back to Boston. Barton sure is gonna miss you.”

“Oh, I’m…” you started. The real story was far too long and messy to get into right at that moment, so you swallowed down the truth in exchange for a grin. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“Yes, well,” Hunham started. “He’ll have a cheeseburger.”

“And a Miller High Life, please,” Angus butted in as Miss Crane began to write the order down, and Hunham grunted.

“No, you will not.”

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane? Quality-wise, I mean,” Angus asked, and you groaned.

“Christ, give it up,” you said. “He’s on pain meds, Miss Crane, don’t—”

“Well, like they say,” Miss Crane started with a scrunch of her nose. “It’s the champagne of beers.”

“And she’s a professional!” Angus said, looking at Hunham as he gestured to her, and Hunham rolled his eyes, unamused.

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane started, and Angus sighed.

“And a Coke,” he added reluctantly.

“Umm, same for me,” you told her. “But, umm, if you can have them do no pickles, please?”

“Sure, sweetie,” Miss Crane said softly.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham told her.

“Three cheeseburgers,” Miss Crane recited. “Hold the pickles on one—”

“And a Jim Beam,” Hunham added, and Angus gaped in awe, the audacity of Hunham to say no to a beer but yes to a drink for himself washing over him. “On the rocks. Please.”

Miss Crane smiled and left the table, and you watched as Hunham watched her leave. You looked over at Angus with a smile of disbelief, and Angus grinned— Did Hunham have game after all?

“Ouch,” Angus laughed, shaking his hand like he had gotten burned. “You two have chemistry.”

“That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham grumbled.

“No shit, Mr. H,” you giggled. “That was something. Who knew you were such a Casanova?”

“I don’t know, seeing her like this,” Angus started. “I think she’s pretty attractive.”

You snorted so loud with a laugh that you almost missed Hunham saying “Listen, you hormonal vulgarians” as he leaned into the table. “That woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculations.”

Angus looked at you with a smile, and you tamped down more laughter. “May I at least go to the bathroom?” he asked. “Sir?”

“You mean the payphone?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face fell stony. You watched the staredown, seeing who would break first, and eventually Hunham bested Angus, because the younger peeled away from the tufted booth seat, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” you groaned, and you got up just as Miss Crane was coming back, her tray ladened with your drinks and Mr. Hunham’s Jim Beam. You tailed Angus towards the bathrooms, but paused at the corner of the bar, watching him disappear into the mens’ room. You stayed behind, looking around at the televisions mounted on the walls, and your mouth went sour at footage of the war being shown on the news. You looked away before you could even properly read the headline, and your fingers nervously went to fiddle with your necklace.

The bartender gave you a look from down the way, expecting an order out of you, and you shook your head. He (of course it was a male bartender) tilted his head with a smile, a sorta “You know you wanna” look, and you pushed a small laugh out of your nose. Driving, you mouthed simply, making a little steering-wheel motion with your hands, and he nodded and smiled, then turned back to his marginal work.

The door to the mens’ room swung open, and you watched Angus slink out. He didn’t look at you, or back in the direction of the table— he looked around the bar, and found his focus being pulled in by one of the pinball machines. You watched him approach and dig in his pocket for a moment, and he watched the guy play his game as he set his dime down on the edge of the machine.

You foolishly almost thought that the night would pass without any more incident. You’d eat your dinner, get back to Barton, and go in your room and ignore everyone and everything until the sun crested the snow in a few hours. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. If you were back home, your mom would let you and Rachel and Anna open one present from underneath the tree, which was always a pair of pajamas that somehow coordinated with everyone else’s but never matched, then you’d fall asleep on the couch while your mom listened to her favorite Nat King Cole Christmas record. Well, that’s what had happened every year up until now. Up until Richard and his daughter (you still didn’t know her name). You wondered what their traditions were. You wondered how they were changing the fabric of your family. You wondered if your mom had bothered to keep up the picture of your dad that hung in the hallway, or if it had come down when Rich moved in.

Yet, incident came. Over the din of the bar, you heard Angus’s whiny little voice say “‘Cause I don’t wanna shoot the other fuckin’ machine.” You looked over at him, and recognized his body language, tall and looming, as the guy playing pinball stepped back with a huff.

“Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo,” he said to Angus, and you started forward as he called, “Kenny! You’re up!”

“Bullshit,” Angus said as you came up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I put my dime down, so I’m up next.”

“Angus, let it go,” you told him firmly, but a voice stopped either of you from splitting the scene.

“What was that?”

You turned to look at who spoke, presumably Kenny, he of the next round of pinball, and your heart sank. Young— older than you, but still young as hell— wearing a heavy jacke with jeans and a chain dogtag, and your throat closed up. A hook at the end of his right hand. There was no mistaking where he lost it, and a flash of fear and dread washed over you. It was too much— first the news, now this. You felt sick.

“Ang, c’mon, let’s just go,” you mumbled, but Angus was too busy staring down the hook that swung at Kenny’s side.

“Hey, sport,” Kenny said, his voice low. “My eyes are up here.”

“Look at this kid,” the pinball wizard chortled. “Spoiled little fuckin’ Barton boy. And his bitch too, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s a fancy little prick, isn’t he?” Kenny said, and he looked at you. “Why the long face, honey? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I-It’s fine,” Angus stammered, and his arm snaked around to you, pushing you back just a touch behind him. Something in your chest tightened, thinking that Angus thought he needed to protect you, but there was also a warmth— Angus was protecting you.“You can take my dime.”

“Take it?” Kenny repeated. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”

“N-No,” Angus breathed. “What I meant is we can play together.” He lightly jostled his left arm in the sling, and he added, “You can be my left arm.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Kenny asked, taking a step forward, nearly nose to nose with Angus, and you felt Angus freeze up.

“Hey,” the pinball wizard started. “You. Prom Queen over here. You gonna let your little boyfriend talk like that?”

Your eyes darted from him to Kenny, then to Angus, then back to Pinball Wizard. You stammered for a moment, trying to find anything to say, and the only thing that came out of your mouth was “I-I—”

“No wonder he’s got a big mouth,” Kenny chuckled. “She doesn’t have one at all.”

You felt dizzy, and you tugged on Angus’s sleeve to leave as you examined Kenny for anything you recognized— a patch on his jacket, a logo on his t-shirt, anything would suffice to ground you. Finally, you saw it: a little appliqué of a purple ribbon with a heart at the end, looking just like the real thing that, last you knew of it, was stashed in the back of your mom’s closet. “My dad’s got one of those…” you mumbled. You couldn’t even think about self-preservation anymore; you were fixated on it now, saying everything you could about it to anchor you in your head and not the stratosphere. “...Got it during Green River…”

“Oh, yeah?” Kenny asked. “And why hasn’t he knocked some fuckin’ respect into your boy here?”

Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton. “He-He didn’t…” you started, and stared at Angus. “He’s an asshole… Socially inept or whatever. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

You couldn’t add in anything more before Angus was peeling away from you, hot-stepping it back to the table, and Pinball Wizard and Kenny made chase as you took up the rear. “Angus!” you shouted, and Hunham and Miss Crane both looked in your direction as Angus walked up to the table.

“Mr. Hunham, can we go, please?” Angus asked urgently.

“Why?” Hunham asked, looking back at the two men and you.

“I’ve just been called a fancy little prick,” Angus said as Kenny called after him. “We should go,” Angus added, and you passed Pinball Wizard and Kenny to get to the booth, once again taking up your assigned place behind Angus.

“Why’d you run off?” Kenny asked with a fake smile. “We were just talking to you. Don’t they teach you manners at that school?” Kenny closed in on Angus, and he brought his hook up to his chest, poking Angus in the sternum with it, and Miss Crane jumped as Hunham jostled in his seat.

“No, no, no, Kenneth!” Miss Crane pleaded. “Leave him alone, they just came in for some food!”

Kenny seethed at Angus, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You could tell that mayhem was a moment away, but then Hunham began to speak.

“Kenneth! Is that right?” he started, holding up his hands placatingly. “I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you, it’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentleman something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”

“The what?” Pinball Wizard sneered.

“The dodo, it’s an extinct bird,” Angus grumbled, and Kenny put force behind his hook again, causing Miss Crane to butt in once more.

“What he’s saying is he wants to buy you guys a beer!” She exclaimed, hoping that her explanation would ease the situation as quickly as possible.

Kenny stared Angus down, then looked at you, cowering and scared. Maybe he took pity on you, the poor little Purple Heart’s daughter, or maybe he realized that what you had said about Angus’s social ineptitude was right, because he finally stepped back, lowering his hook. “Yeah, okay,” he nodded.

“Same here,” Pinball Wizard said. “I’ll have a Miller.”

It’s almost like he couldn’t help himself: “Champagne of beers!” Angus chuckled, and your arm shot out, smacking him across the stomach. You glared at him, and the smile fell off of his face.

You couldn’t even enjoy your food. Not that you were worried about Kenny or Pinball Wizard coming back for round two, but you couldn’t keep your mind off of your dad. Seeing everything had affected you for some reason, and you kept your mouth shut the whole time as you ruminated on it; the images of the newscast swirled in your head, and your least favorite but most common nightmare stayed in your mind— the Army claimed they couldn’t locate enough of your father’s remains to even send back a body, and you could only see remnants of your father in some field. Mostly, you saw his tattoo, big on his chest, the same one he had had since you were a baby, needled in as an homage to you— your father always called you his miracle, and he had a starburst right over his heart. You could only envision the starburst, charred and detached, laying in the grass somewhere in Vietnam, never to return home to you.

You saw Hunham looking at you every so often, maybe checking if you were alright, but nobody said anything until you were gone and out the door. The energy had turned prickly and stiff, and even Angus’s voice cutting through was enough to make you jump.

“Why’d you buy those guys beer?” Angus asked. “They’re assholes.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Hunham grumbled, digging in his pocket for his car keys. “Here— catch.” He tossed his keys over to Angus, and his right hand raised and caught them deftly, almost reflexively. “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off?” He paused to give Angus a moment to respond, despite it being obvious that there was no answer, and he continued, “No, Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam! They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb,” Angus mumbled.

“Except for Curtis Lamb!” Hunham exclaimed. It wasn’t hard to figure out the implication, and Angus swallowed thickly at you.

“Were you ever in the military?” He asked Hunham, obviously looking to somehow change the subject.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Hunham began, pointing at his eye, then tugging at his door handle, consequently mumbling something about “I have to get in over there”.

“They made me an air raid warden,” Hunham continued, breezing by you and Angus to slide into the passenger side door of the Nova, and both you and Angus wrinkled your noses at the sour smell that followed Hunham. “Gave me a whistle and everything… Helmet, arm band…” Hunham slid into the car, scooting over to his seat, and Angus sorta shook his head.

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?” Angus asked, leaning down to peer at Hunham through the open car door. You settled into the backseat, slightly thankful that you wouldn’t have to share space with Angus again (not that you minded on the ride up here), and Hunham grunted out an affirmative. “You smell.”

“Angus,” you frowned admonishingly. You were struck by the sheer and blatant rudeness, and you saw Hunham’s face fall sadly in the rearview mirror.

“Like fish,” Angus continued, getting in his own seat and shutting the car door. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but you never would have outright said anything like that. “And it’s really noticeable towards the end of the day; I can even smell it on your coat… Mind if I crack the window?”

Hunham sighed as Angus worked to turn the window crank, and Hunham said, “Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus grunted.

“Trimethylaminuria,” Hunham repeated himself. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell…” He paused for a moment to uncomfortably wipe his nose, and he added, “And, uh, yes, more towards the end of the day.”

“Wow…” Angus said. “Your whole life?” Hunham nodded, and Angus perked up for just a moment. “No wonder you’re afraid of women!”

“I am not…!” Hunham began, shaking his head. “Afraid of women!”

“Sorry,” Angus mumbled as Hunham continued with an under-the-breath, “Jesus H. Christ.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Angus added. “Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience.”

“Ah,” Hunham began. “And who is Dr. Gertler?”

Angus looked back at you silently for just a moment, the tiniest acknowledgement of the fact that you were privy to this information, and he snapped at Hunham, “My shrink.”

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good, swift kick in the ass?” Hunham asked, and you couldn’t help the scoffing giggle that left your mouth.

“Okay, all right,” Angus chuckled mirthlessly. “Now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?” Hunham asked in fake-shock.

“Sure,” Angus shrugged. “Just one thing.”

Hunham rolled his eyes. “Just one?” He paused for a moment, thinking about his answer, and he turned to look at you. “Anything to add, Miss?”

You kept your mouth shut and shook your head quickly. “Nothing nice, anyway,” you said softly.

“I concur,” Hunham said, and he cranked up the Nova.

The rest of the ride back to Barton was quiet, listening to the wind whistling through the open window as nothing was said, and words were only finally exchanged as you and Angus parted at the doorway to your separate infirmary rooms. Hunham’s room was off down an adjacent hallway, and you had already heard the door shut by the time you spoke.

“Oh,” you started, tugging at the bottom of the maroon sweater. “Here, sorry, I forgot—”

“S’fine,” Angus said. “Don’t worry about it.”

You nodded slowly. “I’ll run it through the wash and get it back to you,” you said, and Angus shook his head.

“Keep it,” he said. “Looks better on you than it does on me.”

“O-Oh,” you stuttered. “I mean, i-it looks pretty, um, expensive, are you sure you don’t—”

“I’m sure,” Angus nodded. He looked down at his feet for a moment, and he softly added, “Thanks for taking care of me today.”

You shrugged. “No big,” you said.

“Big to me,” Angus mumbled. “I’ve never had a girl— or anyone, really— um… Make me feel like that.”

“Like what?” you asked.

“Cared for,” Angus said. “Cared about. I was, umm, so nervous in there that I thought I was gonna shit and die. But you… You were so gentle, and so nice, it really helped me.”

“S’what I’m here for,” you said. “See you tomorrow, Ang.”

“Wait!” Angus said quickly as you put your hand on the doorknob to your room. “Can I, umm… Can I give you a hug?”

You wrinkled your eyebrows in confusion but nodded all the same, and you stepped closer to him. His good arm wrapped around your middle, a little slow and stiff, like he had never even touched a girl before, let alone hugged one, and your arms went around his neck, holding him tight. He took a deep breath and settled his cheek against your temple, letting himself enjoy it, and your heartbeat picked up.

You weren’t sure why, but you had a sneaky feeling that Angus had motives behind the embrace. Was he going to try to kiss you? A kiss was just a kiss, it didn’t mean that much in the grand scheme of things, but it would be your first kiss ever. Did you want Angus to be that for you? For the rest of your life, your first kiss would be with Angus Tully, some kid you went to boarding school with who was an asshole ninety-eight percent of the time and a genuine sweetheart the other two percent. Was two percent nice and caring enough, though?

“Ang,” you whispered, stepping just a touch away from him to see his face. The lights in the hallway were half-turned off, only every other fluorescent bulb lit, and it left you and Angus in a slightly darker alcove of the hallway, and the dim light made shadows play on Angus’s thin face. His eyes looked half-lidded, like he was sleepy, but you could feel his heartbeat and heavy pulse— he was wide awake. “How’d you get that scar?” you asked softly, letting your fingers go to his lips and lightly trace his scarred and puffy upper lip.

“Got beat up a few years ago,” Angus told you. “Busted my lip.”

“Ang,” you sighed in a hushed tone. “You’ve gotta stop giving people reasons to beat your ass.”

Angus chuckled. “I can’t really help it…” he said, and trailed off for a moment, then added, “B-Babe.”

“Are you nervous?” you whispered. “There’s no reason to be.”

“V’just…” Angus started. “I’ve never…”

“Me neither,” you reminded him. “But I want it to be you.”

Silently, Angus shifted forwards, pressing his body fully against yours again, his arm going tight around your waist, and he helped you rise up on your toes to fully reach him. Then, before you could even think about what you were doing, you leaned into him and, your eyes slipping closed, touched your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft, and his fingers itched in the back of your shirt. You really had no idea what you were doing, but it felt right, and you tilted your head a bit as Angus put force behind his kiss and held you even tighter.

You felt lightheaded as you slowly pulled out of the kiss, touching your forehead against Angus’s and sighing. A smile slowly slipped across your lips, and a laugh escaped while your fingers tangled in the curls at the very bottom of his neck. “Um, thanks,” you whispered.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day… Since this morning, y’know…” Angus admitted. “I just, um, didn’t wanna do it in front of Hunham.”

“I understand,” you told him. “Thanks, Ang.”

“Are you okay, by the way?” Angus asked. “You got really… I don’t know. Upset. Back with those guys.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Y-Yeah, just, um… That guy was in Nam, and after the stress of the rest of the day, kinda just seeing that and remembering was…”

“Fuck,” Angus sighed. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve stood up for you.”

You shook your head. “That’s not your job,” you told him.

“Well, yeah, it’s not,” Angus started. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t stop it.”

You bit your bottom lip as you thought, and you mumbled, “Sure. Alright. Umm, I’ll see you in the morning, Ang.”

“One more for the road?” Angus asked, and you rolled your eyes at his little cocky smile.

“I’m not even ten feet away from you for the rest of the night,” you chuckled. “Some road there.”

“But there’s a wall,” Angus whined softly. “I’m also trying to act cool here, and ask for another kiss without asking—”

You leaned up and gave him one more kiss, quicker and less emotional than the first time, but Angus still locked eyes with you and badly contained a smile when you parted, just like before. “I’m trying to not, umm…” he started, looking back down at your feet. “Not get ahead of myself here, but um… No, we can-we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, but Angus shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “We’ll... Tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?”

Even though you were confused by his trepidation, you agreed anyway. “You too,” you told him. “If your shoulder starts to hurt, just… Let me know. I’ll see if I can help.”

“Sure,” Angus nodded. He hesitated to step away into his own room for a moment, and he leaned in and kissed your forehead before scurrying away, like he was afraid of the consequences.

You went into your own room and closed the door, taking a deep breath. You had kissed Angus. You weren’t sure if you were more excited about it being Angus or just the kiss itself happening, but you felt giddy and you bit your cheek as you smiled. Carefully, you went about undressing from the day, slipping into pajama pants and doubling up on socks, and your fingers brushed down the front of the sweater. It was soft, wool, and the stitching on the cuffs and around the bottom and neck proved it to be more expensive than anything you could ever dream of.

Angus told you to keep it. Were you like those girls who wore their boyfriend’s jackets now? The girls at Central wore their boyfriends’ varsity jackets when it got cold, the ones with their names across the backs, showing everyone who they were dating. You had never really cared too much about the varsity jackets, but, then again, there had never really been anyone that you would have considered even trying to wear their jacket. First, you’d have to figure out if Angus was even your boyfriend before you started to get all giddy about having one.

Was that what he wanted to ask, but held off for tomorrow? Did he want to ask you to be his girlfriend? It was exciting, but you understood why he had chickened out of asking you then and there. You would be his first girlfriend, and that was intimidating. Maybe he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, and just wanted to be able to hug you and kiss you whenever he wanted.

Your mind began to race. Angus wanted to kiss you, but what else did he want? Did he want to have sex? Did he even care about that? Had he even thought that far out yet? Certainly, he had. He was a boy after all— boys’ brains are made up of 50% sex and 50% violence. Maybe you were just overthinking it. It was entirely possible that Angus didn’t even want to be your boyfriend, and just got caught up in the moment and kissed you.

Your head hurt from being too analytical, and you slipped into bed and pulled the blankets to your chest. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you and Angus could talk about everything you wanted. Maybe, you thought with a sleepy smile. Your Christmas present would be a boyfriend.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #dominic sessa #dominic sessa x reader #the holdovers

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tsukimefuku · 6 months

Text

Lover's Pass

You and Nanami were sent to investigate cursed activity linked to disappearances in the Lover's Pass. Meanwhile, you both still have to deal with the fallout that happened after the last time you were together.

Based off Lovers Cave from ATLA (obviously).

The song: One last kiss - Hikaru Utada (on Youtube).

Tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, Nanami x OC/Reader, implied Higuruma x OC/Reader, angst, fluff, slight canon typical violence (nothing graphic).

WC: 4.6K

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma long fic I might write. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: the stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. This happened after the stories "The Event, Part 1" and "The Event, Part 2", preceding "Tactics"(HiguReader). To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Of course, you were trapped in The Lover’s Pass curse with Nanami after he turned you down. Obviously.

Since the day I met you, the heart began to turn its gears

I can't help but have a hunch that I will lose you

Oh, I know that we've done it so many times

But can you add one last favor?

Oh, Can you give me one last kiss?

It's something that I don’t want to forget

I love you more than you’ll ever know

— Utada Hikaru's "One Last Kiss"

"It's not very appropriate to be talking about such personal matters on your phone while you're inside a car with other passengers." Nanami chided, while he had his arm over the door to his side, not looking at you as he spoke. You had just got out of your call with Higuruma, having set your first not-date with him for later that day.

You scoffed. "Ijichi, did my conversation on the phone regarding a not-date later today offend you in any way?"

Ijichi was taken by surprise, and pushed his glasses back on his nose as he answered, doubtful, "no, Ms. I wasn't offended."

You looked at Nanami, whipping your head towards his position, making it abundantly evident you were glaring at him. He still wouldn't look at you. Then, without a word, you stopped glaring at him and looked outside your window. You were both on the back, glued to your respective doors, trying to put as much empty space between your bodies as possible.

You remembered your earlier conversation with Yaga.

"Do I really have to go with Nanami?" you asked, feeling defeated.

"You're the only two grade 1 sorcerers available. The others have got their plates full. From what we've learned, no one should go inside this curse's hiding place alone, so it's necessary to send two of you."

"What a bore." You said, pinching the bridge of your nose with two fingers. "So, the Lover's Pass curse. Some kids went missing trying to navigate underground tunnels because they were idiots. What do the legends say?"

"The origins of these tunnels are uncertain." Nanami began. You were displeased, and grunted at it lightly, expecting Ijichi to go over the briefing again, loathing having to listen to his voice. Nanami moved on, unbothered. "The legend says that a long time ago, two people from two rival families used those tunnels to meet each other in secrecy. It became an underground destination for couples, both literally and figuratively, it seems, but it has recently become a hotspot for cursed activity. There are currently 4 people missing. Their status is unknown."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." You sighed, dismissive, leaning your temple over the car's window. You heard Nanami sighing loudly on his side of the car, knowing full well he did it just so you could hear him, and the tension between the two of you was so intense it could be ceviche’d with a blunt blade.

Ijichi was particularly uncomfortable in the driver's seat, turning the radio on, trying to fill the dreadful silence with anything until you all got to your destination.

This is going to be hell.

“Ijichi, can we make a quick stop? I haven’t had any breakfast today.” You asked.

“Of course. I have to put some gas in, too.” Ijichi replied.

“That is the reason most people usually wake up early enough to be ready in time for their appointments.” Nanami pointed out, unsolicited.

“Nanami, get off my case. I’m not in the mood to hear this kind of chastising. Especially from you.” You retorted, keeping a low voice that was glimmering with incandescent fury.

Ijichi was terrified, worried he might be caught in the middle of a crossfire.

Nanami finally looked in your direction, with you refusing to make eye contact, but said nothing, returning his gaze to the view up ahead.

***

As you both got out of the car, you picked up your phone, only to realize it had very poor signal. You left a small bag with some cookies and water inside the car.

“Ijichi, will you wait for us here? We don’t have great cellphone reception.” You said, putting your phone back inside your waist bag.

“That is the usual course of action when we’re accompanied by an assistant.” Yet again, Nanami pointed out, unprompted.

You sighed heavily, and spent no words answering him, knowing full well it’d be tossing paper scraps to the wind. Ijichi simply nodded in your direction, uneasy at the growing tension between you and the ratio sorcerer. You waved at Ijichi, and started walking towards the entrance to the tunnel maze. It seemed to be under what was once an enormous mansion, debris being the only clues something ever stood there.

As you finished descending the stairs, Nanami reached you, and both started walking inside the dark tunnels. They were all haphazardly made, basically consisting of very rustic diggings and walls made of dirt. You grabbed a flashlight you had brought, and lit the way for you both.

The pair was walking for what seemed like ten minutes, and you made markings with your cursed energy in order to make the coming back process easier. Like leaving a breadcrumb trail.

The silence engulfing the steps was becoming unnerving, given that, since your last conversation, you had been furious with Nanami. He tried ringing your phone twice since then, and both times you refused his call.

He called your name to say something, and you instantly (involuntarily) sighed in contempt, still not looking at him. “What?”

“It’s about the curse. I do not intend to have a proper conversation in the middle of our mission, rest assured.” He replied, nonchalantly.

“You never intended to have a conversation.” You retorted, annoyed.

Nanami sighed. “We can talk about this in a later time. Now, let us look inside that tunnel. I believe I saw something.” He said, pointing to a turn to the left you both had just passed by.

“Fine.” You made your way back and lit the flashlight towards the tunnel Nanami had pointed at. However, as soon as you did, it became a solid wall.

What?

You drew the light away and over the same spot a few times, and it was certain: there was no way down there anymore.

“What did you see, Nanami?” You inquired, staring at the wall, confused.

You heard some ruffling, and saw Nanami unbutton his suit jacket, pulling his blunt blade from his back. “I saw a quick movement, like someone or something darting through the tunnel. I believe the curse is here.”

You thought for a moment, and couldn’t sense any type of concentrated cursed energy near.

“Nanami, let’s go back and check on the markings we left along the path.”

You both began walking back, alert to anything that might jump you on the way. However, you were met with another solid wall. Upon further inspection, you noticed that one of the markings you made could be partially seen in one of the corners of that tunnel.

“Nanami, look.” You said, pointing at it.

“I see. It can shift space inside the tunnels.”

“That might be the reason these people are going missing. They’re probably still down here.”

He nodded. “Yes. Let’s hurry.”

You kept walking for what felt like half an hour, and started to wonder if this curse was also able to stretch space. These tunnels were supposed to be less than 2 kilometers long, but you had surely been walking much more than that, and you didn’t feel like you were walking in circles. Also, there was no sign of other people ever having been down there.

“Nanami, I think we’re inside the curse. I mean, I don’t feel we’ve been walking in circles.”

“I understand your point. However, we can’t be sure of that.”

“We’ve literally been walking in a straight line and took less than two turns, Nanami. I’m pretty sure about it.” You answered him. For some reason, his simple correction, something so innocuous, brought up the anger you had been feeling for him these past few days.

Nanami sighed.

“Care to enlighten me?” You asked, voice poking at him. You were looking for trouble, clearly.

“If this curse actually distorts space, as we’re suspecting, the physics of it might be broken. There is no point in wondering if we’re walking in circles or not. We’re already under its effect.” He said, matter-of-factly.

This definitely rubbed you the wrong way.

You sighed. “Thanks for the class, teacher. Didn’t know curses could do that. It’s not like I came from a family with a centuries-old tradition on jujutsu, but well, maybe I don’t know how curses work.” You spat out, angrily, turning around to face Nanami.

He sighed, in a mixture of annoyance and tiredness. “This is not the moment for this.”

“Oh, for what? For you to remember that I’m not an idiot that has no idea what she’s dealing with? It sure isn’t. You should’ve thought about it days ago!”

He addressed you by your last name “-san”, when he started to speak again, and that was your last straw.

“We’re past that, aren’t we? It wasn't a last name basis a few nights ago.”

“You see, this is precisely the kind of predicament I hoped to avoid when we both agreed that getting romantically involved would be a foolish move.”

“Oh, Nanami-san, getting involved wasn’t the issue. The issue was what you did right after.”

“Now, please enlighten me on what exactly I have done wrong. I’ve been trying my best to be respectful and proceed with this clearly needed conversation.” He answered, his monotone not concealing very well his own feelings of dissatisfaction.

“Aren’t you the big shot that knows everything about the hardships of a jujutsu sorcerer’s life? Figure it out yourself.” You exclaimed.

“Are you displeased at what you perceived as a rejection of affectionate advances?” Nanami inquired.

You scoffed and looked at him, in utter and complete disbelief. “First and foremost, I’m not displeased, I’m furious. Second, you really think I’d be enraged at you because I felt rejected? Do I look like a fucking school girl?!” This was the very first time you ever cursed at Nanami, and it surprised him.

However, before he could answer, something spiked up from the floor, separating you both even further. It was a red mass that looked like a tentacle, but not quite. It first whipped at you, and you used your cursed technique to launch one of your small grenades at it. At impact, the shock waves from the explosion caused the tunnel to make a not so safe noise.

Shit. I can’t use my technique. This might collapse the entire tunnel system on our heads.

“Let me handle this! Your technique is no good here. It might knock down the surrounding walls!” Nanami shouted, as he advanced towards the curse’s tentacle.

“No shit, Sherlock!” You yelled back, jumping and rolling when it dealt a strong blow where you were previously standing.

He swiftly dealt a 7:3 critical hit at the tentacle’s base, and it was cleanly cut. It fell, squirming softly before it stopped. You looked closer, and the tentacle seemed to be made out of several red threads, all tightly-knit together.

“What the hell?”

“Well, it is called the Lover’s Pass. You’re probably familiar with the red thread myth.” Nanami said, pushing his glasses back in place.

“I am. I just didn’t expect it to be so... Thematic?” You answered, getting up, huffing.

“Neither did I.” He replied, as you both resumed your walking.

***

“Nanami, this is pointless. We’re not getting anywhere.” Complaining, you leaned against one of the walls. You both had been walking for almost three hours at this point. “Apart from that tentacle, the curse hasn't approached us.”

He sighed and also leaned against one of the walls, on the opposite side, looking at you. You didn’t look at him back, though.

“Is there anything about the legend from Lover’s Pass that could help us solve this?” You asked, defeated.

Nanami thought for a moment, resting one of his hands on his chin.

“Legend has it that the only way for leaving the maze of Lover’s Pass is through an act of... True love.” Nanami remembered, instantly pinching the bridge of his nose, still with his glasses on. A faint grunt from him could be heard.

You realized it as soon as he did.

“Like a kiss or something like that?”

He shrugged, displeased. “Perhaps. It’s an open-ended statement. I do not care much for those.”

You let out a loud ugh. “Are you serious? That’s the legend?”

“I’m afraid so.”

You sighed deeply, then approached Nanami. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

He was slightly surprised, but offered no resistance, given he knew this was an alternative you both should try, and you surely had enough intimacy for that.

You kissed him on the lips swiftly, dissociating as much as you could when doing so. His body was rigid at the alien sensation of you pressing your lips against his so… Indifferently.

You both waited for a few seconds after that, but absolutely nothing happened.

“Goddammit. Ah, well, worth the shot.” You shrugged off.

He sighed and pulled on his tie lightly, opening the button on the top of his shirt. “I believe we’re on the right track to solve this conundrum. But there is something about what just happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“This surely couldn’t be interpreted as an act of true love.” He pointed out.

You grunted, looking away. You were having a hard time looking at Nanami today, overall, unless you were bursting with anger, or glaring.

“You won’t even look at me properly, and haven't, ever since we picked you up earlier this morning.” Nanami noted.

Now you looked at him, without making any effort this time to conceal the rage you had bubbling inside, translated on the facial expression you had on.

“I’m just too angry at you right now to be affectionate!” You spat.

He sighed.

“I apologize.” Nanami said.

“For what?” You inquired.

“You’re furious with me, and have been for days. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t prevent me from apologizing.”

Your rage dripped from your next words like poison.

“If you don’t know why you’re apologizing, don’t even bother.”

“Then, please, tell me what I’ve done to upset you this greatly.”

“No! Figure it out for yourself. Clearly you know more about things than I do, don’t you, Nanami?” You were nearly growling.

Suddenly, another tentacle appeared, but this time it came from the upper part of the walls, right behind you. Before you could react, it violently whipped you against the wall, and pierced through your right shoulder. You heard Nanami calling out your name. The pain shot through your body like cold nitrogen, and you almost reacted using your cursed technique, but restrained at the last moment, remembering the risks it ensued.

He appeared swiftly, and dealt a 7:3 blow to the tentacle's base, having it fall down beside you both. You fell to your knees and held your shoulder with your other hand, huffing, before you began employing your RCT for healing.

Nanami kneeled in front of you. “Are you alright?” He asked, mindlessly putting his free hand on your cheek, effectively cupping your face. You shivered at his touch, and looked him in the eyes. Underneath his glasses, you could see a slightly worried gaze, and that chipped away at your fury-fueled emotional brick wall.

“I’m… fine. I’m already healing myself. But thank you.”

He nodded, still cupping your face in a tender, affectionate way.

You both remained in that position for a little while, gazing at each other. It was then that you noticed the faint light from what looked like fireflies extending towards the tunnel maze, making some turns until it disappeared.

“What…?” You got up, and was left dumbfounded, because the lights suddenly went away. “Did you see that?”

Recomposing himself, Nanami got up. “I did.”

Then, it clicked.

“We’re attacked by the red threads when we’re fighting. And I guess the lights show the way out. They appeared when we-” you stopped in your tracks.

“When we had a moment of-”

“True love.” You choked out, the words pulling painfully at your heart strings. “Okay, I get it now.”

He put his blunt blade tucked away in his harness, and stood right in front of you.

“Then, we must talk.” Nanami said, in his matter-of-factly way. You were looking at the ground, and didn’t lift your gaze to meet his. He sighed softly and relaxed his shoulders, taking off his glasses, now speaking with a husky, softer voice. “I would like to talk to you, please, and be given the chance to understand what I’ve done to hurt you.”

You were caught off guard.

“Please.” He repeated, putting his finger under your chin to lift your eyes, and you did so, meeting his. This was the first time ever since that night he seemed to be actually looking at you, and not past you.

You sighed, as he put his hand over your shoulder, softly rubbing his thumb over it.

"Did you feel like I have taken undue advantage of the situation that night?" He asked, earnestly.

"No! It's not that." You pondered for a moment. Then, you began speaking again. "You lectured me that day, Nanami. It wasn't a conversation."

He was slightly surprised, but stayed silent, giving you time to elaborate.

"You never wanted to talk to me, you just had your mind made up. I was angry at you because you made a decision that affects us both entirely on your own, without even asking me about anything. You completely disregarded my input in your equation." You finally explained. "It was patronizing, and I felt deeply hurt by it."

Nanami then realized what he had done. Trying to shield you from hurt, he had pushed you exactly in hurt's way.

He sighed deeply as he put his other hand on your arm. "I... I apologize, truly."

You both locked eyes for a moment, and you felt the already so familiar fluttering heart. Your heart beat for this man, just like the sun rose for the day, and the moon came out for the night. The profound connection you had, which transcended time and space for more than a decade, had translated into the way each pump fervently happened because of, and for, him. You could barely breathe when he gazed at you like this.

With a sharp tug, you grabbed his tie and pulled him in your direction, locking lips, feeling the bright explosion from the longing that had swept you away in anger. You missed being close to Nanami so profoundly the past few days that it ached in places you never even realized existed, every pain pulsing away at your last kiss. He pulled you closer, diving into the passionate kiss, in his own silent sorrow and apology.

You barely felt the few tears that streamed down your eyes as you were both kissing. For the first time, the all consuming rage you felt had revealed its true colors. It wasn't anger; it was sadness.

You were overwhelmed with sadness and felt profoundly disappointed that, out of everyone, Nanami, the person you trusted the most, with your heart and with your life, was the one to hurt you so severely. You didn't feel used — you felt completely betrayed.

As your faces parted, you kept your eyes closed, fighting the urge to cry. He saw your pained expression, and a dark pit had formed in his stomach, the gravitational pull of guilt threatening to bring him down on his knees. Nanami cupped your face in between his hands and realized it was damp. Oh, I am a complete and utter imbecile.

"I am profoundly and sincerely sorry" he said, pulling you in for a hug, burying your face in his chest while he held the back of your head.

You sighed, hugging him back tightly and breathing intensely, trying to free up the heaviness that took over your chest. He nosed your hair, and trembled to your flowery aroma, today, smelling like daffodils. Oh, how much he had missed it, and you had absolutely no idea.

At that point, the fireflies began to appear again.

Nanami softly parted from you. "Look."

You turned your head, and saw them. There were many fireflies all over, lighting the tunnels greatly. It was actually... Beautiful. You separated from Nanami, sliding softly out of his embrace. He looked at you, somewhat apprehensive.

"We can get back to talking after we're finished here, okay?" You reassured him.

He nodded, and you both began to follow the fireflies' path.

As you were walking, you saw a couple, two women, laid on the ground beside each other, seemingly passed out. You took one of them in your arms, and Nanami did the same. Further ahead, you saw someone else, but when you both approached, realized this person must've been deceased for a while now. He was holding onto a small, bloody pocket knife.

Both of you decided to keep walking, and saw a bright white light at the end of the longest tunnel. The fireflies were leading you there, so you followed suit, finally reaching what seemed to be an empty white room. It wasn't empty, however. A woman — or what seemed like one — was on the ground, apparently on her knees, with her face in her hands, crying.

"Nanami, can you hold them both?" You asked, whispering. He nodded, and you put the lady you were carrying over his shoulder.

You then silently made your way towards the curse, summoning a grenade in your hand. This seemed to be in an almost separate dimension from the tunnel, so you figured it'd be probably safe using your technique here.

Why... Why did he abandon me here? The curse pleaded for an answer, stopping you in your tracks. He left me here to die- to die- to die-

You noticed that her neck seemed to be cut, and was oozing blood that dripped down the front of her white dress.

"Nanami, you told me there were four people missing, right? But we only saw one body..." you said, keeping your eyes laser-focused on the cursed spirit in front of you.

"Yes, during the course of the last two weeks. Two couples." He pondered for a moment. " ... Oh, I see."

This woman was the last missing person. The curse itself.

She had cursed herself at being abandoned to die by her lover in the Lover's Pass.

Why did he betray- betray- betray me!? The curse wailed, seemingly self-embracing, in a pitiful gesture for self comfort.

That was a heartbreaking sight to behold.

"Hey, Nanami, tell me something." You said, still looking at her.

"What?" He asked.

"If we exorcize her, will her spirit be freed or disappear along with the cursed energy tethered to it?"

Nanami was silent for a moment. "I do not know."

You sighed, sorrowful, and evaporated away the grenade you were holding onto, kneeling in front of the curse.

"Hey." You said, pulling its attention to you. Nanami was standing behind you, apprehensive, while he held the two passed out women. However, he decided to trust you, and stood down.

Why- why did he kill me?! Her eyes were pitch black, and sent chills down your spine.

"You have to forgive him. You have passed, there is nothing else that can be done. You both have. Only when you let go, will you be free. You cursed yourself." You said, warmly, sparing her a smile.

Her weeping started to subdue.

"You have to pass onto the other side." You insisted.

I can't- can't- can't- forgive him! He doesn't deserve- deserve- it! The cursed spirit shrieked, furiously.

"Then, don't do it for him. Do it for you. Free yourself. Only you can do that."

The curse's howling stopped, and you got up, stepping back, ready to pull a grenade on her if it were necessary. You had tried your best to free this spirit without exorcizing it.

The cursed spirit got up too, and turned it's back to you, suddenly being engulfed in all the fireflies that were spread throughout the tunnels. They got absorbed into her, and she radiated pure white for a moment, before you both could see it. She now looked human, a tall woman with long brown hair and a beautiful white summer dress, weaved around with red stitches all throughout.

You smiled, and she turned around to look at you.

Thank you, the woman said, before stepping towards, away from you, disappearing into thin air.

Then, the pure white light that replaced all the walls, floor, and ceiling began to fade away as well. After a few moments, you and Nanami, as well as the two girls, were finally back to the entrance to the Lover's Pass.

***

After you left the women at the hospital, you, Ijichi and Nanami were back in Tokyo. You asked Ijichi to let you out of the car near the restaurant Higuruma had told you he'd be at.

You got out of the car, waving Ijichi goodbye, but were surprised to see that Nanami stepped out of the car as well, calling your name. Ijichi left, probably because Nanami told him to do so before he made his way out.

"Can we resume our conversation?" He inquired, looking at you... pleadingly?

You sighed. "Okay. Just give me a moment." You grabbed your phone and texted Higuruma, letting him know you'd be late.

You looked around and spotted a bench, walking towards it, waving Nanami to follow you. He did, and you both sat down on the opposite ends of it, looking at each other. The silence grew uncomfortable between the two, given none knew who'd speak first.

He did.

"Once again, I'd like to apologize for the hurt that I've caused you," Nanami said, earnestly, "and I hope you can forgive me for that."

"Will it make any difference to you if I tell you I already forgave you?"

Nanami was slightly taken aback. You continued.

"It seems that every time I forgive you or tell you there is nothing to forgive, my words just fall on deaf ears." You sighed. "I can't keep telling you there is nothing to be forgiven when you just won't listen. You have to forgive yourself. We can’t... You have to move past it. I'm tired of this, I've just about had it, Nanami."

He stayed silent.

"You were not saving me, or sparing me, when you made that decision by yourself. You broke my heart, Nanami. You wanted to protect me, and I understand that. I'm thankful for that. But you did it all wrong."

He sighed deeply. "Could you find it in yourself to forgive me?"

You gazed at him. "I forgive you. But I can’t forget this. And even if I can still trust you with my life, I don’t think I can trust you with my heart again."

These words cut through him like sharp blades. Hearing them felt worse than he had anticipated.

"That's reasonable." He finally replied, defeated.

There was nothing more to be said. You cupped his face with your hands, and he looked at you longingly, knowing what would come next.

You pressed one gentle last kiss on Nanami's lips as you said goodbye.

He was left sitting alone on that bench, as he saw you walking away to go on a date with someone else, taking your flowery scent and soft touch with you, away from him.

It felt more miserable than he thought it would.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk imagines #jjk x you #nanami kento angst #nanami angst #kento nanami angst #jjk angst #jjk drabbles #drabble

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emberenchanted · 1 year

Text

For Keeps (3/3)

Pairing: Dark!Carol Danvers x Female Reader

Summary: Carol sees you. Carol wants you. Carol gets what she wants.

Series Warnings: extremely dubious consent, strap ons (r receiving), sex (oral, vaginal), anal fingering, Dom!Carol, orgasm denial, spanking, violence (not really towards reader), manipulation, forced relationship, rough sex

18+ ONLY

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

A/N: Ok party people, we've reached the end of this short tale. There really isn't much plot here, it's mostly smut 😅. This fic is my first time writing smut so hope it isn't terrible. Thanks to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged! Let me know what you think about this chapter. I really appreciate the support and motivation.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Chapter 3

When you wake up the next morning, it is to serious regret and a text from Carol telling you that she’d pick you up at 6:30pm that night. You make one last effort to get out of the date and text back that you aren’t feeling well. Carol responds and says that if you aren’t feeling well, she’ll just come over and take care of you until you’re better.

The response makes your stomach drop. You shudder to imagine how domineering Carol would be alone, in a private space that has a lock. She already forces every interaction into the outcome she desires in public. If she managed to get into your studio, you would be at her mercy, and after the way she’d finger fucked you against the alley wall before you could get a word in, you were sure you wouldn’t get her out of your apartment before she got what she wanted, which was most likely you in bed with her. You definitely weren’t ready for that yet, if you’d ever be. No, much better to go out.

Hours later, after considering the contents of your closet, you settle on a black knee length bodycon dress with long sleeves and chunky black boots. You style your hair into an updo, and add chunky gold hoop earrings; a bit of concealer (to cover the marks Carol had left on your neck the night before), and a swipe of lip gloss complete your look. You don’t want Carol to see where you live so you decide that you’ll head down to the bar around 6:25pm and meet her there. You’re already nervous, so when you’re ready by 6pm you decide to indulge in one glass of wine to settle your nerves. It definitely can’t hurt, right?

At 6:20pm, Carol walks up the steps to your apartment, which is right over the bar. If she’d known last night that her baby lived just upstairs, she could have dragged you there during her break and made your first time riding her fingers much more comfortable. Though to be fair, if she had known, you might not have made it back for the rest of your shift. Oh, well. That’s what she gets for not having complete information. She won’t let that happen again. Carol intends to find out all the important bits about her baby’s life tonight, so simple slip ups like that don’t happen anymore.

After spending her morning “talking” to some of the other business owners who have recently missed their monthly payments, Carol is feeling relaxed and eager. Situations where she got to flex her physical...skills always got her blood up, and she was ready to show her baby a great time. The concerning information Carol’d received from three of the people she visited could be handled tomorrow. Apparently, all of them had also been told there’d be a change in payment method and none of the dumb fucks had double checked before paying in cash at that bench. She needed to talk to Steve about how to move forward and he wasn’t an early riser. If things went according to plan, she wouldn’t make it back to the Avengers’ headquarters from her date until mid-morning tomorrow.

She bounds up the last two steps before quickly walking to your door. Carol knocks two times before taking a step back. When you open the door, Carol is absolutely thrilled. You look fucking delicious and Carol can’t wait to eat her little baby alive. Your soft breasts are perched high in a tight black v-neck dress, and the smooth expanse of skin from your neck to dressline is flawless. Whatever you'd applied made your skin gleam and shimmer in the light. It's all Carol can do to not hook her finger into the neckline of your dress and tug to see if your pretty little nipples shine in the same way. You look surprised to see her and Carol uses your temporary shock to crowd you, pressing her body to yours and lifting her hand to stroke your cheek gently. “You look incredible, baby,” Carol husks out, dropping a soft kiss on your shiny supple lips.

“Oh.” The little sound of surprise pops out of you before you can help it. When you take a step back, Carol takes that moment to step around and into your apartment.

Carol slowly takes in the small two room apartment. It was rather cramped and a bit dingy, but you obviously take good care of your belongings. Old bookcases line the walls and sink under the weight of fat, squat books. An obviously used green velvet couch takes up most of the open floor space and a TV on a chipped wood table stands across from the couch. But multiple small clusters of flowers in mason jars are perched on several surfaces, brightening the space. And in the kitchen, directly behind the couch, several bright prints and images are hung.

Carol was proud of you for making it on your own this far. She knew how many young girls struggled, but you had found a job and place to live in a new city without any family support or connections. Her baby was hard working and industrious. Thankfully, you wouldn't need to do that anymore. Carol would be taking care of all that for you soon enough. Carol was just happy that through your obvious struggles you'd remained innocent and pliable. Watching you stammer and flush when Carol gave you her full attention was exquisite and it made her eager to command that submissive spirit in the bedroom. You would be so fucking pretty whining and squirming under Carol in bed with a sore and tender ass.

After Carol had seen her fill of the apartment, she turned to face you once more. Stepping close, Carol slid a hand up and down your arm. “Your apartment is so cute, baby. I wish I’d known you lived so close. I would have come over sooner.”

You shudder at the thought. “Ready to head out?,” you ask hurriedly.

By the time Carol slips into the booth seat next to you at the restaurant, you’ve calmed just a bit. While she’s been just as handsy at the show and on the way there, she’s also been charming. Being with Carol was like being on a rollercoaster. The breakneck pace she pushes things along makes your stomach churn and drop, but it also makes you excited and breathless. As with a roller coaster you’re pretty sure you’ll make it off alive, but there’s always the chance that you’ll slip past the safety restraints and tumble to your end. It was exciting and scary. Carol was exciting and scary.

The restaurant Carol has chosen is quiet and dimly lit. Floor to ceiling brick walls enclosed several small tables situated around the room. A few booths were also tucked against the back wall creating private enclaves. Each table is topped with a burning white candle. After you’d both ordered, Carol begins asking about your life. Where you grew up, familial relationships, your past romantic partners, what you liked to do in your free time, your favorite places in the city (so far); everything was fair game. There was a part of you that wanted to hold back, not to divulge everything about yourself, but another little part of you was flattered. You’d never had someone so interested in hearing about you. Of course, Carol might not have had a completely altruistic motive, but she did seem genuinely interested. After finishing your main course, Carol’s hand gently touches your knee, pushing the fabric of your dress up your leg and swirling patterns into the ticklish skin there. It's hard to believe that this was the same woman who’d brutalized Mel. But, you try to remind yourself that it was.

Carol seems to be in a good mood, and she’d said at the beginning of your dinner that she wanted to know everything about you. That went both ways, right? You thought you should also be able to ask her about her life. If this was going to be a...relationship, there had to be some give and take.

You take a deep breath and ask, “Carol, can I ask you a question?”

She squeezes your knee, “Anything, baby.”

Your question comes out quietly. “Do you hurt people, like you hurt Mel, often?”

Carol turns her body to you, meeting your eyes and she takes a beat before answering. “You want to know more about my work?”

You nod.

“I fix problems,” she begins. “Almost any problem. I do that all over the country and all over the world. And there are different...methods for fixing problems. It’s my job to identify the most expeditious method for resolving any issue I’ve been hired to fix. People pay me a lot of money to do that well.” Her hand slides up your thigh and kneads. “What happened with Mel was unfortunate, and I’m so sorry if I scared you, but you'll get used to it.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. That was not what you were hoping to hear. And you definitely didn’t think you’d get used to it. You look into her eyes and see what looks like affection there as you brace yourself to ask another question. “Would you ever hurt me like that?”

She chuckles softly. “I would never hurt you in the same way that I hurt Mel.” The tightness in your chest releases just a bit. “But I do have certain expectations of you, baby, and I will enforce boundaries with and for you. But never that harshly.” she rushes to finish. Your heart continues to beat a rapid rhythm against your ribs as you take in her words. You’d known that Carol had certain proclivities after your previous interactions with her, but to hear it stated so plainly was something different. You simply didn't want that kind of relationship. One with rules and punishments. You are even more sure you'll have to find some way to end things with Carol before they go any further. At that moment, the waitress clears the table, sets down your dessert and heads back to the kitchen.

The hand gently stroking the inside of your thigh creeps up a bit higher, tickling delicate skin. You move to shift away from her, uncertain of how you're feeling at the moment and hoping for a bit of time to think. But as you begin to close your thighs, Carol gives the inside of your leg a sharp pinch. “One of those expectations is that you do as I request, and another is that you don’t move when I’m touching you--or about to touch you--unless I give you permission. Ok, baby?”

You nod slowly and Carol nods back at you. “Now why don’t you just lean back and relax, sweetheart? This will feel good. I promise.” Carol was blocking you inside the booth so you couldn’t get out without making a scene. You rest your back fully against the back of the bench and close your eyes.

“Look at me while I’m touching you,” Carol murmurs against your ear. You drop your head to the seat behind you and roll your head to face her, eyes fluttering at the sensations coursing through your body at her gentle stroking.

“Carol,” you sigh.

Another pinch. “Ma'am!,” you quickly correct. “Ma'am, we’re in public. Someone might see.”

“Don��t worry,” Carol purrs. “Nobody is going to see you. Nobody gets to see you like this but me, ok?”

You murmur affirmatively and give yourself over to the pleasure she’s inciting in you. Her slender fingers find your panty covered core and stroke over your damp slit. Her gentle caresses send fissures of pleasure shooting through you and you whimper softly. Carol hums approvingly. Her fingers pull your panties to one side and she slides one solitary finger inside your slick warmth to the second knuckle. Your body twists at the sensation, and you try to slide further down the bench to get her finger further inside you. Carol laughs gently as she thrusts her finger in and out. In and out. It’s not enough. “More, please, ma'am” you sigh breathily.

Carol chuckles.

“My baby needs a little more? Do you want to come?,” Carol queries.

You nod frantically. “Do you want to come here at the table or back at home?” Your mind races. You really don’t want to lose control at the restaurant despite Carol’s assurances that nobody will see you. But, you also don’t want her in your home. As you ponder, Carol pushes her finger deeper inside you and the slick sensation makes you gasp. “Home!”

Carol pulls her finger out before slipping it in her mouth to suck gently. “Hmm, delicious,” she intones. Carol stands up quickly and strides over to the waitress, credit card in hand as you try to gather yourself and your senses. She’s back before you know it, quickly packing up your dessert into small takeout containers, and grabbing your hand to drag you out the booth.

Just as you’d suspected, Carol was just as forceful in bed. She’d essentially dragged you to her apartment (or at least where she was staying while in the city), before pouncing on you. Her apartment was modern, but understated, largely empty of decoration. Her hands dragged, unzipped, and shifted until you were left in only your underwear.

She pushes you into her room and onto her large bed before climbing on top of you. Her lips meet yours and her tongue strokes the inside of your mouth sensuously. She sucks and nips sharply at your lips before slowly making her way down your jawline to your neck. As her lips travel to your clavicle, Carol slips one hand underneath you to press your back into an arch. Her other deftly unclasps your bra before tossing it aside. Her teeth gently scrape at your skin before moving to your nipples. Latching on, she gives you a hard suck, immediately laving the skin with her tongue with small strokes to soothe the now aching bud. She continues to suck on first one nipple, then the other until both are sore and puffy and you are whining and squirming underneath her. Seemingly inspired by your strained noises, her teeth continue worrying the taut bud of one breast as her fingers slip into your panties and begin to rub your clit.

She releases you with a soft, wet pop as her fingers continue exploring, first one, then two of her fingers pushing all the way into your tight hole and making you moan incoherently. “This little pussy is perfection, baby, I can’t wait to fuck you,” Carol rumbles, mouth still against your breast.

”Wait,” you bleat out.

Carol rises to her knees and smacks your pussy hard. “Ouch,” you shout.

"No, baby. I’m not waiting anymore. I was supposed to get to fuck you on our last date, but you stood me up. You've been teasing me long enough. Now get undressed and get on your hands and knees."

Carol pauses her words to cock her head and pin you with a hard gaze when she notices you aren't moving. "Now, baby," she says harshly while reaching over to give your thigh a hard pinch. You yelp at the blooming pain, then take a few deep breaths and resign yourself to what was about to happen. Your heart pounded in your chest at how fast, again, Carol was getting her way. You felt so overwhelmed and helpless that you couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and threatened to spill over your lower lids. Hands shaking, you removed your simple white lace underwear and began moving to your hands and knees.

Satisfied that you were following directions sufficiently (though you were still moving too slow in Carol's opinion, --something she would let slide tonight but would train out of you soon enough) Carol reaches over to open her bedside drawer and pulls out an intimidating strap on. Your movements pause as you catch sight of her maneuvering it onto her body, and your eyes widen in fear. It's as thick as your wrist, frighteningly long, and has a wicked curve. Thinking of that splitting you open makes you sob. But Carol is having none of it. With herself situated, she turns her attention back to you. She manhandles you into her desired position, ignoring your breathless pleas to pause for a moment.

Your eyes are glued in fear to her linen duvet as you feel the fat head of her huge cock run through your slippery folds, stopping to nudge at your clit before continuing back up to your hole. Carol rests her hands on the flare between your waist and hips, before tightening her grip and starting to push into you.

You moan pathetically as you feel the head of her cock pop into you. Even this first inch is a stretch and you know there's a lot more coming. Carol gives you no reprieve as she continues sliding into you, splitting you open at a slow but steady pace. Your cunt flutters frantically around the invading cock, trying desperately to create space where there previously was none. When you're sure you can't take any more, you begin to whine and try to move away. Carol tuts softly before giving your ass a sharp smack, and leans over to murmur in your ear. "I told you not to ever move away from me when I'm touching you." Her words send shivers down your spine.

With that, she tightens her grip on your hips, before lifting you and giving you a rough tug back, impaling you with the last few inches of her cock. You sob into the sheets at the pain coursing through you. Carol threads the fingers of one hand into your hair, yanking back to ensure you can no longer move away from her. "Gotta keep you nice and close, baby. " You shudder as Carol's free hand begins to explore your body while she gives you a few slow but deep experimental thrusts. Though you still haven't adjusted to the fullness of your cunt, Carol begins to increase the pace, drawing heat and an intense pleasure to your belly. Her touch is everywhere -- sliding over your shoulders, rubbing and twisting at your nipples until you sob, tickling down your back to rub over your ass, pinching your inner thighs before moving them apart, forcing your back into a deeper arch and making the heavy cock inside you slide that much deeper.

You're barely holding on. Carol is everywhere and there is only Carol. Since you'd met, Carol had been pushing every interaction and every conversation the way she wanted it to go. There was no room for disobedience, no room for hesitation at one of her many orders, and no room for negotiation. Everything has to be Carol's way, and you'd seen the potential consequences firsthand. That first night you'd seen the violence she'd casually doled out, and hadn't ever wanted that to be you. Now you were wishing for a few simple broken bones. This was so much more violating.

Her cock is rubbing against every inch of you, making you feel stretched to the limits. As much as this hurts, it brings an equal amount of pleasure. Your body hums at the intensity of Carol fucking you. Every nerve ending is alight and you can feel the beginning of that coil tightening in your gut. You feel sick, and scared. You're sick at your body's enthusiastic response to Carol's rough handling. You can hear the slick, wet noises you make each time she thrusts into your raw and battered pussy. But you're too scared of the immediate punishment to try to resist or adjust your body to make yourself a bit more comfortable. So just as you begin to let your mind wander from this place and try to relax into the pleasure and ignore the pain, Carol removes the hand that's been roaming your body. The sudden lack of sensation gets your attention.

She gives your hair another yank, twisting your head so you're awkwardly looking at her. She looks...depraved, but beautiful. Her piercing eyes take in every expression on your face and flick from the bouncing of your tits, to the cock disappearing inside of you and back to your face at a rapid pace. When a particularly rough thrust forces the curve of the cock into your g-spot and you part your lips to yowl at the ecstasy she shoves her pointer and middle fingers into your mouth and tells you to suck. You know better than to disobey. You suckle at her fingers as they rub over your tongue, reaching further back until they press into the back of your mouth. As you choke on the intrusion, and Carol continues to rub at your tongue as you gag, her eyes light up in glee, and you worry about the plans she might have for your mouth. You don't think you can take the hefty cock down your throat if Carol demanded it, but you know you'd have to try. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to escape the intensity of Carol's gaze and put that potential nightmare out of your mind, but Carol gives your hair a sharp tug before demanding you "look at me."

When you do, she finally-- blessedly-- pulls her fingers from your mouth. They're covered in your saliva and a small string of spit connects her fingers to your lips. She murmurs that she wishes she were close enough to lick the drop of saliva off your lips, and you can't help but be thankful she isn't. You don't think you can take much more of this. More of Carol everywhere.

But you've never been lucky, and just as you begin to relax again you feel a light stroking pressure at the opening of your tight puckered hole.

You start and your mind begins to race as you feel her spit slick finger begin to press into you, stretching your ass open in an insistent burn.

"You ever let anyone fuck you here?" Carol asks. You gather your wits about you before she has to repeat her question. "No, ma'am" you mutter out in a broken moan.

"Good," Carol responds. "I'm going to be the last person in this tight little pussy and the first and last in this little asshole." She sounds pleased. Despite knowing the uselessness of trying, you plead for her to stop, to give you a short break. She hushes you gently, more gentle than she had been, as her finger slips deeper into you and she murmurs "Both holes baby. Gotta get you used to this. I'm not going to fuck you here with my cock tonight but it's happening soon so we've gotta get you trained. Wouldn't want to hurt you."

Carol removes her hand from your hair and uses it to brace your hip in place as you wail and try to buck at the intrusion.

"Ah ah ah, baby. Hold still. One more,” she murmurs as she pushes in a second slender finger. “You can do it. There you go. All done. You don't move unless I tell you to, remember baby?" Your fingers scramble for purchase in Carol's sheets as you pant. You thought you'd been full before. You thought Carol had violated you as much as possible but you should have known she'd find another way to possess you. You cry into the sheets before feeling Carol smack your ass twice and dig her fingers into your hip making you yelp sharply.

"I asked you a question, baby. Answer me."

You sob out a miserable "yes, ma'am." Satisfied with your response, Carol begins to alternate thrusting into your ass and pussy, both pushing deeper into you than you thought possible. Your body quivers at the push and pull of her inside you and her free hand is back to roaming over your body. After twisting at your sore nipples her hand coasts over the soft skin of your belly to your slippery folds. She begins to rub gently at your clit. Light teasing touches that send you hurdling toward an orgasm but aren't quite enough to send you over the edge.

You hear Carol's smooth voice behind you "are you close, baby? I can feel you squeezing my fingers and can see that sweet little cunt of yours fluttering around my cock."

You nod, before remembering to answer affirmatively verbally. Desperate to ease just a bit of your discomfort, you shift forward a tiny bit, resting more heavily on your arms and slightly relieving the pressure of Carol's cock pressing against your cervix and the deep press of her fingers in your ass.

Carol didn't have to-- she could tell you were trying so hard to be a good girl for her--but this time she just wanted to. She smacked your already sore ass cheek hard three times for forgetting to answer her verbally. Carol knew she would enjoy seeing the bruises tomorrow as much she was enjoying putting them there tonight. Carol slips her free arm under your stomach and drags you back toward her, more than making up for any marginal ground you may have gained in your attempt to adjust and mounting you more firmly on her cock and fingers.

You whimper and stop moving, simply shuddering and moaning in time with Carol's thrusts.

Her fingers return to your clit, rubbing and pinching until your body is tight with tension, ready to snap and tumble into the orgasm she's been building you towards. Carol's fingers quicken their pace, drawing small tight circles over your bud as you feel your cunt tightening and the coil inside you snaps. Carol continues her thrusts, more forceful now to get past your quivering flesh. Your body shivers and shudders as the pleasure courses through you, made all the more intense by Carol's continued movements. She forces you right through this climax and violently into another. All the while you hear her voice saying how happy she is that you're together now, and that she can't wait to do this everyday.

You're overstimulated; sore and tired. Carol slows her thrusts before pulling her fingers and cock out of you. Your body sags in relief. She removes her strap and positions herself at the head of the bed. She grabs you from your prone position and pushes you down until your head rests between her legs. Hands weave back into your hair, and she pushes your face into her slippery wet cunt, telling you to lick. You're exhausted and horrified and scared, but you lick her gently- running your tongue up and down her slit, suckling at her clit as she moans. She grabs your head in both hands and continues to maneuver you as she pleases.

Later, after Carol comes on your tongue twice, you lay curled in her bed, shocked and softly crying. She returns from the bathroom and sits in bed beside you, stroking your hair and back. Though you know better than to question her, you simply can't process that this might be your new reality.

Occasionally Carol slips her fingers over your chest to rub and twist at your sore tits. After a while, she leans over to whisper in your ear. "You cry so pretty baby, but I only want to see you cry on my cock. So if you keep crying, I'll put you there."

A wave of horror runs through you as Carol gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek before sliding into bed behind you and tugging you close into the cocoon of her body. You wipe your tears on her pillow and pray for sleep to take you.

#dark fic #tw dark fic #dark carol danvers x female reader #dark carol danvers x reader #dark!carol danvers #tw smut #dark!carol #avengers smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #carol danvers x female reader #carol danvers x reader #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon #for keeps series

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bunnidid-reviews · 2 months

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Tumult: a DID Graphic Novel review

Title: Tumult

Author: John Harris Dunning(writing) and Michael Kennedy(art)

Date of publication: 2018

Fiction or Nonfiction: Fiction

Was there a diagnosis of DID? The character with DID is diagnosed with DID, but the actual process isn't shown

Was the person with DID presented as evil for having DID? Until the very end, yes it's implied that the person with DID is capable of murder

Major trigger warning list:

Cheating

Alcoholism

smoking

Implied drug use

Nonexplicit sexual intercourse (Nothing nonconsenting)

Government-funded organized abuse (MK Ultra and the like? A UK versionnn of it? Sorry I don't know much about this)

Being locked in a dark room as a form of abuse/mind control

Gun violence(nonexplicit)

Stabbing

blood

A dog(alter) attacking (but with angry dog imagery thats pretty creepy)

Evil alter trope

Subjective Review(this is how I felt about it)

Personal triggering scale from 1 to 10 (1 being not triggering at all, 10 being a badly overwhelming experience that might cause personal harm): 3ish?

Personal relatability scale from 1 to 10 (1 being unrelatable, 10 being OMG THAT’S ME!): 2

Personal avoidance scale from 1 to 10(1 being eager to get on with it, 10 being impossible to finish): 6

My interpretation of the media(Includes spoilers):

Hmmmm What do I saw about this

To begin with, the book starts with the main character (Adam, not the one with DID) going into a dissociative episode it seems when he jumps off a cliff into the ocean and injured his leg. It's not entirely clear whether this is something he's gone into before, but he entirely upends his perfectly-normal life with his partner by cheating on her with a woman who stuck around him while he was healing.

Later, he's moved out, he's become an alcoholic and feels so much nothing that he essentially gives up on his job. He's ruined his own life, basically. His best friend points this out that he needs to make a change. (There's plenty of exposition that honestly just bulked up the story and didn't add much, it feels like filling in for context in a memoir, except the context leads to nooothing)

In attempt to socialize, he goes to a friend's party and sleeps with a woman there who's name is Morgan.

Adam considered it an unforgettable night, so when he sees a woman on the street who looks exactly like her, he ends up following her and insisting that she is Morgan, despite multiple denials to his claim. Finally she takes the bait because he's a slightly better option than being harassed in the street by another man trying to convince her she's in danger.

This womans name is Leila. Adam convinces her that he's certain that she's the woman he slept with, and leaves her with his card for contact.

Adam later gets a call from seemingly a little girl, with enough of an inflection in her voice that she sounds very familiar. They meet up in the park, and she introduces herself as Pretty Princess, who's concerned about what's happening around Leila. She tells him that she needs him to look out for her. Adam is perfectly fine with this offer, with a nice little..

"This craziness didn't put me off. If anything, it drew me closer."

Exposition, exposition, Adam quits his job because he's decided to become a thriller movie hero like in Die Hard, putting his energy into Figuring Leila Out.

Adam and Leila meet up again and hit it off better this time. They fuck. We get this lovely description...

"then we were in Leila's bed, and she was shape-shifting. She was girlish, manly, bestial. It was like fucking a barnyard"

Adam hangs around and snoops around her apartment because he woke up without her. He Just has no sense of boundaries almost, bent towards unravelling her mysteries.

Leila meets up with him and starts to explain her DID, only for Adam to intersect and say that he's already met Pretty Princess. He says he doesn't understand but he wants to. Leila, distressed, tells him she's been experiencing blackouts, and it brings out Pretty Princess once again. She tells him that they can no longer be near him now that he knows.

Adam and his friend talk, and they get talking about girls and equating how they see relationships to more thriller moviesssss and thennnnn

A guy shows up, his name is Dave. He was the first one to harass Leila in the street, telling her she's in danger. It turns out she really IS in danger, she was victim to a government-funded mind control program, in which they trained her to be the perfect killer. There just happens to be murders happening left and right, and at the center of it all is Leila's system and a sense of unease. Is she the killer? Is she next on the list? We the readers are left unsure.

As Leila goes to seek help from an old friend who was part of the organization, she finds out that he had suddenly died.

She has no one to turn to, so she turns back to Adam for support.

In a flashback we find out that her mother would lock her in a dark closet for hours at a time as a form of punishment.

In the present, as Adam and Leila are walking, they get mugged. It brings out her biting dog alter in self defense.

In the next scene, we see that the head of the organization apparently had some weirddddd views on religion? that might've influenced how heee wenttt abouttt things, but again, it's never really brought up, only implied. Pretty Princess shows up and tells him she is probably intending to kill him, and he doesn't deny any of her claims about the organization, that they were indeed trying to make the perfect killer.

Except something mysterious.. Happened?

Anyway, they got the confirmation that the conspiracy theories were confirmed and all the 'random' killings are linked.

Insert a scene where we find out that Leila is some sort of escort, and it triggers out another one of her alters, a sultan who threatens to castrate the clientele. At least her coworker seems understanding. (I've heard from my dancer sibling that most fellow sex workers understand dissociation to some degree tbf)

Leila meets up with the program director, who seems genuinely remorseful for what he's done to her. He reveals that he doesn't believe Morgan is capable of the killing that everyone's thinking she is, that he only got into the program because he wanted to study DID

Some stuff, Leila gets kidnapped and it brings out the Grave Digger alter. the person asks a lot about their DID, more than any stranger would know, and they answer honestly. We never really know who kidnapped the system, but we know someone else who was involved in the program is killed directly after.

Leila wakes up, gets a call, and switches with Morgan, who we haven't seen since the night she slept with Adam.

We learn that Morgan was specifically trained to kill, in turn for learning how to control her DID(?). It's revealed that Morgan's never killed anyone while in their training, and implied that she never has since. They have sex and the system disappears from Adam's life.

But hes in too deep and can't take a hint, so Adam stalks theeee doctor from before I think, the one who begged for forgiveness? waiting for his inevitable demise.

It turns out he's been doing the killings so he can sell her as a weapon, and using Morgan as a scapegoat for his crimes by triggering her out every time there's a murder taking place so Leila's system has no choice but to suspect themselves.

Ssssomething happened, since the system was getting locked in the dark as a means of triggering and controlling them, everyone ended up seeeinggg aaaa masss vision? Of some goddess that came to comfort her or something? It's really weird and unclear what exactly happened here, but the governement stopped funding the project because they couldn't believe what was being reported.

Then Morgan kills the doctor, and Adam just happens to be there to sweep her into his arms. In the end, we see that Morgan is an accepted part of the system.

I wasn't planning on marrating the entirity of the book, I'm trying to cut down on explaining everything but it's very hard to, sorry. I have a lot of thoughts on this, not a lot positive.

I mean yes, the DID was portrayed fairly well. I don't think the system members were entirely nonsense, they were a mixture of specific and odd enough to be made by a little girl going through trauma. That is to say, Leila and her system aren't really the problem here. I'd actually prefer if the book was more about them

It's just.. Adam. He's.. I don't want to root for him at all, and his interest in the system may have grown into genuine concern, but I have genuine concern for how he's gone about this the entire time. He is blatantly putting his partner on a weird abelist pedestal and doesn't see her as a person in her own right, not really. Just an interesting mystery to unravel, a possible threat, and something to fetishize. I don't often look to other reviews for insight on my own, but I did say that someone else said it was fine, just really weirdly sexist. Because, yeah, it really is.

The story is kind of a slog to get through when it's less than 200 pages also. There's a lot of detail that doesn't fucking matter at all, like a lot of movie references, or caterwauling for 4 pages on how he knows this one guy... We don't actually meet Morgan until halfway through the book, if you can believe it. It's just dense with a lot of stuff I (sorry about this) Don't fucking care about!

I don't know, I came away from this book feeling weirdly objectified for having a disorder.

I also don't understand theeee suddenly Magic thing that apparently happened in the end. It was way out of left field when the rest of the book seemed to be grounded in some sort of reality.

I can't speak on the experience of government-based mind control either, I don't know anything about programming either so I can't really speak on that. It did seem pretty scary that she ended up in this institution by seeking help for her DID, though. I don't feel great about that, I don't know if that happens but it feels like a deterrent to get help.

I don't know. I think I don't like the book. The art style isn't my cup of tea either, so I'm not super fond of it anyway.

If you've read it, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. I don't remember how I end these reviews, but those are my scattered thoughts.

What they got Right in my opinion:

That DID comes from extended, inescapable childhood trauma

All the origins of the alters shown made sense for alters. (the dog coming from feeling cornered, the sultan being an introject from some artwork, etc)

Seeing communication between alters was very nice

Leila feeling as though she was doing fine until looking at her life a little closer was very relatable. As she put it, 'A bug under a rock that's been upturned'

What they got Wrong in my opinion:

Not about DID, but I don't feel like stalking and not taking no as an answer should be rewarded with sex and affection just because the other party is 'concerned' :')

What. was the magic that happened. I do not think that happens when being put through reliving your childhood trauma.

The constant theming about alters being violent and implying one is a killer. even if it was disrobed pretty well in the end, it's not a great feeling throughout and very trope-y

People with DID are just as equal partners to people without and shouldn't be seen as something to fetishize or treat like a puzzle for you to solve, unless explicitly given the okay to.

Would I reccomend this to someone with DID to read? No. I don't feel like this was for someone with DID to read. The intention does not feel like it's made for someone with DID as much as it is a well-researched gimmick for neurotypical people to fetishize.

#tumult graphic novel #tumult #dissociative identity disorder book #dissociative identity disorder #did in media #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder media #bunnidid reviews

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datawyrms · 9 months

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Truce time!

Hi @noxposting :v you got me as your secret gift giver. You get fic this year, because art and I look at one another with wary stares until the other backs down. Hopefully you enjoy it? I tried to add bits of multiple prompts but :v crypid danny going to a coffee shop won out. mostly. heh. On Ao3

Barista. Not exactly the pinnacle of anyone’s career, heck, many would call it a low point. Not Valerie though. She knew the real pits of food based service, thanks. It didn’t even involve food! That hideous mascot outfit reeked worse than a dumpster on a warm summer evening on a GOOD day; and anyone that saw you managed to treat you WORSE than that! Which was probably the whole point, when you got ‘promoted’ to cash or the grill you’d actually feel grateful. Seeing your face sure didn’t stop everyone from being the worst human they can be, but enough were too cowardly to be as rotten when the threat of spitting in their food was right there.

It didn’t help with the looks about someone ‘young’ working at a burger place so ‘soon’, and the next time someone asked if she should be in school on a Saturday was getting a special side seasoning of knuckles. If she didn’t need the money, she wouldn’t be working!

So yeah, in short? Getting hired at a coffee shop was a major step up from the Nasty Burger. Like, who calls a place Nasty Burger? She might not be the biggest fan of coffee either, but at least she wasn’t reeking of grease and having weird sauce explosion nightmares anymore. (The training videos about the Nasty sauce were ridiculous, there was no way you could legally keep something that explosive and give it to people to eat, why so graphic?)

Sure, fewer people from school dropped by here, but that was sort of a plus too. Even if it wasn’t as embarrassing to be seen working once free of mascot duty, it still didn’t feel great to watch how everyone else in class got to have fun while she worked for peanuts. Having some easy ways to slack off and chat a bit on slower days was nice though. Usually only bored old ladies wanted to chat here, and not about anything remotely interesting.

Sam Manson was the only person she’d recognized today, but she didn’t really count. Valerie didn’t know what the goth girl’s deal was, but she always acted like she was trying to ‘steal’ her friend. Which yeah okay, she did date Danny for a bit, but it’s not like Sam even tried to date him first! Having more friends or romantic interests wasn’t going to kill the guy, seriously. In her opinion, Sam was way more likely to hurt Danny than she was. Maybe Sam should look at herself instead of getting all weirdo over-protective. Whatever. At least she didn’t make the same old person joke every single customer thought she never heard before. Paid, got enough sugar for her drink to reasonably be considered a soft drink, and left her alone. Easy.

Valerie got back to cleaning up her work area, there wasn’t more for her to accomplish just staring at the sitting area. The bell at the door would let her know if she had to turn around.

Which it did, twenty minutes later. It wasn’t Sam leaving, but some new guy wanting an order. Normal. Except Sam wasn’t sitting alone anymore. When had Danny got here? It wasn’t with Sam- she saw her come in alone. At the same time as new customer guy? Only if he could teleport. Pretty sure the Fentons didn’t have a magic teleporter invented yet, or there’d be way more weird ghost hunter home invasions.

She wasn’t staring. She wasn’t. Took an order, made it, put the cash in the register all without staring at the weirdness of a suddenly appearing ex. Totally.

Danny didn’t even do coffee! Why would he be here? You’d think someone so constantly tired would at least try coffee for the caffeine kick- but he acted like she suggested he stick his tongue in a blender when she asked if that’s what he kept in his thermos one day. Kind of a weird overreaction, but that was just Danny. It was kind of cute in a way, like he needed big reactions to get noticed at all. Considering his family though… she could get it.

If there weren’t more customers coming she might have gone over and asked if he wanted anything. Even if Manson would have been catty about it. She wasn’t scary, just loud.

Mostly people going to join the first guy who ordered. Friends meeting up, probably. Did it matter? No, but thinking about it gave her something to do as her feet got sore and staring while cleaning got boring.

Nosy friends. Sam wasn’t happy, judging by the death glares. Like she wasn’t ever loud with Danny or Tucker. Sheesh.

“Hey Val, can I get a water?”

She blinked once, twice. Danny had not gotten to the counter that fast. Without even making a sound against the slick tile floor. Yet there he was, shy half grin on his face, rubbing the back of his neck like he was asking for a big favour.

“Sure, but it’s gotta be in the dinky little cup. That alright?” It was a dumb policy, but that was jobs for you. What was he going to do with a coffee cup full of cold water, make ‘illegal tea’? Who cares?

“Totally. Thanks.” Danny’s grin grew, almost a bit too much for a guy getting a baby cup of tap water.

It was weird. The hairs on the back of her neck shouldn’t be acting up from Danny just being a bit of a goof over water. She forced the stupid feeling down as she handed over the drink and shook her brain back to reality. “No problem. Nasty Burger closed or something?”

“Nah. Tuck’s just grounded and Sam wanted to go somewhere that didn’t reek of cooking animals,” he said, adding playful air quotes to reek before taking the cup. “Those guys don’t seem like they’re locals, what do you think?”

“Listen, after like two hours you all look the same.” Valerie answered with an eye roll, earning another laugh from the boy. “I don’t think I’ve seen them here before though, no.”

“Elmerton, maybe?”

“Maybe? I don’t get paid enough to pay that much attention to them.” Valerie rubbed her forehead before looking at Danny again. Somehow he’d gotten even worse at making conversation! Who cares about some slightly noisy table group?

“We’d find out pretty quick if there was a ghost attack.”

Danny was joking, obviously, but it didn’t keep her from leaning over to hiss “Don’t you dare speak bad luck into my day, Fenton” under her breath.

“Okay, okay! I’m totally not doing that,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, but the easy smile stayed in place.

Sometimes she really wanted to strangle the stick of a boy. Ghosts weren’t funny! He knew that! Some were pathetic, but still not funny. “Good.”

Danny gave a little wave, nearly spilling the thimbleful of water that could fit in the sad little cup as he headed back to the looming thunderstorm that was Sam.

Maybe she was glaring as much as the goth was, she kept feeling the need to blink or rub at her eyes, but they didn’t feel dry. Weird. Her suit would warn her of any real danger from spectral pests, but she could do without randomly feeling really off for no reason.

Oh! She was just feeling weird because it wasn’t so loud anymore. That was all. The uncomfortable chill and too long shadows were just in her head. The noisy group kept looking around and fidgeting in their seats instead of just loudly saying everything and everything. Sam was comfortable enough, even if it looked like the light on her side of the room had died, leaving her and Danny lurking in shadows that kept creeping closer and closer to the other group- not literally.

She shook her head. She needed a break. Pushing back into the employee’s only section would give her a moment to drink some water and wake up before she started seeing things.

–

“Pushing it a bit? She totally almost caught you.”

“But she didn’t.” Danny pushed Sam’s comment away as he slid out of his seat. “Besides, I thought you wanted me to get ‘em to shut up a bit.”

“I did. You’re just being extra,” Sam rolled her eyes, watching the now quite cowed group of out-of-towners.

Danny gave a loose shrug, shoulders weirdly out of tune with the movement that should be all about them. “I’m hungry! No one local ever gets scared of easy stuff anymore,” his arm twitched as he spoke, a faint green twisting and twining through his skin. It seemed to thread through skin and muscle, pulsing and pulling bits from beneath before sliding back into smooth skin again, a secret no one was meant to really see.

Sam pointedly avoided looking at that arm. She didn’t try to tell him to be more careful again either.

Danny’s grin slid a bit too far to be comfortable on a human face before he moved closer to the group that kept looking for the door. “Hey. Did any of you guys see the light switch? It’s kind of dark here.”

It was dark in here. On a bright sunny day, with all the windows open. It shouldn’t be- but ghosts hardly cared about what ‘shouldn’t’ be. He wanted it to be dark- and his powers obliged. Eagerly, even. Happy, delighting that instead of squabbling and fighting with another ghost he was going to do what they were meant to do. Scare the daylights out of the living. Grab the feeling and emotion and life his own chest forgot how to feel some days. More and more often, lately.

“No? I-I didn’t really see anything.” The first person tried to answer back, failing to match Danny’s easy smile, leaning further back in his chair as Danny leaned forward, a tilt to his head.

“Really? Darn. Maybe one of you can help me out?”

It was funny. He was totally still ‘Danny Fenton’ right now, asking a very casual question in an easy way but everyone lurched back as if he asked to rip out their teeth. “I totally get it if you can’t though. I just have bad luck with switches.”

He reached out, arm twitching again in an awful, too loose way. Like he’d popped it out of his arm socket but it kept slowly reaching towards his target as it twisted and seemed to burn. Neon green scarring burst out from his fingertips and spread as he got closer and closer and flared into a painful glow as they screamed and tried to back away from him.

His friends didn’t do much better, scrambling away and abandoning their friend to the ‘terrifying thing’ casually just walking after him.

“What are you! Get back!”

Danny ignored the panicked pleading, only grinning as the others found the door to be locked. “Huh? I’m just a guy asking you for help?”

“No you aren’t! You-you-you’re some monster!”

His eyes flashed green as he put his twisted, burning, scarring arm to his chest. “A monster? Really?” The green scarring spread like the electricity that first caused it- the damage throwing his whole body into a sickly painful looking glow. “Is that what you see?”

His target tripped as he tried to escape, tangled in his own legs and shaking too much to really gain any ground even as Danny didn’t move above walking speed. “If I’m such a monster, how about you tell me how it feels?”

The shriek was enough to hurt his ears for a second as he reached forward and grabbed the unfortunate human, the rolling green transferred over for only seconds before it leapt back to Danny, slowly fading back under his skin and taking all the horrific damage with it.

The doors had unlocked, letting all the others escape as he rocked on his heels, waiting for the one who’d passed out from sheer terror to get back up. It wasn’t as if he ACTUALLY felt how awful that day was. It was a fraction, a hint of his own memory. Not fatal. Just absolutely terrifying.

“And Sam calls me dramatic.” Danny muttered, nudging them again with his foot before joining Sam back at the table. He could just say the others pranked him and left him if Valerie was annoyed at the unconscious person on the floor.

After all, it wasn’t as if any ghost was here. She’d know about an ‘attack’. He’d just gotten his own kind of snack.

#danny phantom #holiday truce 2023 #gift fic #phandom truce 2023

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atrial-ofhorror-if · 2 years

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Hey, y'all! It's that time of the month again~~ Time for a monthly update!!

I want to start this off with checking in on you guys. How's everyone doing? The year just started but it just feels like time is moving so fast already. I hope that this year will be much kinder to us all than it has been 🙏🏿🙏🏿 last year really tried to knock my dome top off, but I'm still here, so thats something. Let's all do our best, and kick or at least bruise the universes ass!

Clerical Updates

I have some changes that I'm planning for the Itch.io page, guys 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿First thing first, I want to change the game's title screen. I had initially made it in Canva with the aid of a friend from work, but as I continue to work through the game, I feel like there could be a much more fitting image. However, your girl isn't a graphic designer, so I want to commission someone to make a header or some shit.

Then I want to add a game starting page into the actual demo. I’ve looked at some examples from other IF writers who have made one, but I think my code is wrong (as it usually is), so I’m pacing back and forth trying to figure out exactly how and what I’m doing wrong. stay tuned for the shenanigans, cause I bet its something super simple 🙃🙃

I've been slowing down in writing. I typically write in my Google docs app on my phone, it's easier than opening my laptop, but the app has been having hella issues. I think it's because of the document size, so it's been significantly slowing down my writing time. I've been looking into alternative apps, so if anyone has recommendations, let me know.

Game Progress

I am officially at 60k+ words!!

To be well (Alex’s Route): 49%

Search and Destroy (Mark's Route): <1%

Interlude (Intermission): 4%

So far, I have three big scenes left to write in Alex’s route.

North Wing. Nuff said.

Convergent: not to be confused with divergence

Isekai? Isekai.

Once I've written those scenes out, the rest will be smooth sailing. I just have ends to tie up and scenes to flesh out before I can finally push it into editing. I might do some of the fleshing out during editing to make it easier on myself (and to give myself a break), but I am just trying to go with the flow.

Once I push the game into editing, I'll take a break before I start on Mark's route. I'm still dealing with fatigue from Miss Rona despite having the same progress I had before I got sick but it just feels... weird. Like your girl is trapped in a slumber or something and I can't get out, but now I'm being anecdotal.

Back onto topic.

I want to talk about Mark's route for a moment. Because it truly is the bane of my existence, and I'm DREADING having to write it. I have three possible ways of how I want to deal with it:

Write the damn thing out, and stop bitching. Not ideal

Don't write it and be great 😤😤😤 most ideal

Release Alex's route once done with editing and worry about Mark at a later date. also not ideal cause then I have to come back to it! 🥴🤧😭

So, the last option is something I'm looking at real disrespectfully. Partially because I'm probably going to have to rewrite some of the subplots because when I plotted the outline for the entire episode, I had a precise idea of what was to occur. But Alex's route completely shifted from what was supposed to be there into something that I don't even recognize. Which isn't a bad thing, just… an inconvenience 🥴🥴

Therefore a lot of things that were supposed to happen just didn't. Which, again, isn't a bad thing. It just means that I need to reign the plot in again. I could finesse a lot of the content to make it flow, BUT that will take me some time.

So, in short... I still don't know what I'm gonna do!! 😭😭 but I probably will end up writing Mark's route cause I don't want to end up shorting you guys on content just cause I'm feeling lazy.

This episode has a LOT of variety in it. Like, I'm not even bullshitting. I'm aiming to make it so that you guys can replay it as often as you desire and still find new things you would have missed. (To make up for the fact that episode 2 probably won't be released until next year if we're being honest 🥴🥴)

The interlude isn't even something I'm thinking about at the moment. Partially because I'm trying to push through Episode 1, get done with Alex's Route and start on Mark's. A portion of it will still be in the update, but I'm debating if its going to be even smaller than what I intended it to be. Possibly? But again, I'm not so much of a planner as much as I am a 'go with the flow'er.

I'm hoping to drop pieces of the interlude this year until it's whole, instead of just writing the entire thing, cause I swear I'm not doing this shit again, lol 🤣🤣. Either way, I will keep you guys updated if anything changes.

I think that's it? If you guys have any questions, you know what to do. And if you need anything, let me know! I'm semi-available (not really) on the weekdays so I'll try to answer any asks as quickly as I can. But either way, love y'all 🤎🤎

#a trial of horror #if wip #twine game #interactive fiction #twine #interactive game #atoh #if game #if wips #horror if #horror games #cyoa

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hourglass-dreams · 2 years

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Angst/Whump Isabela Madrigal Headcanons🥀🌵

Disclaimer: this is going to be a similar warning I had for the Bruno headcanons. These are going to discuss the subjects of generational trauma, body image issues and eating disorder behavior. This is not meant to make the movie about something it isn't.

I will not go into graphic details about any of the more sensitive subject matter. But one of these will have a trigger warning and this symbol "⚠️"

If you disagree with me that is fine! But, please.. don't be hateful.

Anyways... on with the list. 🥀

There have been so many times in her life where she didn't feel like she was a human being. She either felt like she was a monster because her pent up anger and resentment or she felt like an object to be admired just to be tossed away later.

Almost every adult in the Encanto tells her that she looks so much like her abuela. This started out as an honor, she loved her abuela so of course she'd want to resemble her in some aspects but as she got older, she began to hate when people said that. It felt more like an obligation rather than a compliment. Like, since she looked like abuela, she had to BECOME abuela and NEVER let her down no matter what.

Despite her being "the golden child' she actually saw Mirabel as more of her parents "favorite". Mirabel could actually bond more with their dad, be honest with her feelings, and live a "normal life". Without even meaning to, their parents did pay more attention to Mirabel and it made her feel so inadequate.

When she was in her mid to late teens, she realized that the "crushes" she had on guys were very forced and she could never relate to the other girls that fell head over heels for guys in the village. But she knew she was attracted to other women and this terrified her. Not because her family had anything against it, but because if she did date or marry a woman, she would be going against her abuela's wishes and she was scared of being shunned by the family.

Even though Mariano was deeply in love with Isabela, he knew she wasn't in love with him. She was so uncomfortable and distant towards him when it came to anything romantic when they were alone, and when they were around people, it felt fake. Neither of them wanted to cause conflict so they never discussed it.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE NEXT ONE: ⚠️

⚠️

Because of the emphasis so many people put on her "perfected performance", it caused her to very self conscious and aware of her actions, words and looks. This included her eating behaviors. She started eating less and less until the family was noticing and it made some members very concerned. So Isabela started to eat "normally" but then engage in purging behaviors. Though she tried really hard to hide this, Dolores found out and confronted her about it. She became so weak that the flowers she grew were dull in color and couldn't think clearly. Luckily this didn't last long enough to cause permanent damage to her body. But the urge to fall back into those patterns never quite go away. ⚠️

Isabela and Dolores were very close when they were little, but started drifting apart around their preteens. Dolores fell into Isabela's shadow and she started resenting her (even though she never expressed this outwardly). This caused their cousin relationship to be strained for years until after Casita was rebuilt, they rebuilt their connection. Isabela still feels bad about Dolores being shoved into the back, though she didn't have much control over that.

There were so many times where Isa broke down in her room at night. She eventually stopped doing this when she just grew numb to everything.

(Again I might add to this ^^)

#encanto #disney encanto #tw: eating issues #isabela madrigal #isabela my beloved #isabela madrigal angst

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goodautisticdick · 1 year

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Draft of a neurodivergent relationship tool I'm building

Here's a draft of a relationship tool I'm workshopping. It's not even close to done, and there should be graphics and all kinds of cool things, but I wanted to get it out there.

Neurodivergent Relationship Plan

This tool is designed to help neurodivergent people clearly and safely set up plans and boundaries for exploring relationships, dating, and intimacy. This is meant to be done individually, then compared to set the pace for relationship advancement- With a focus on more restrictive boundaries being respected first. At this point in the relationship, check the following that you are interested in engaging in (note that this can change later, but please let your partner know!) Add a + if it’s something you would like to do, a check if it’s alright, and a X if it’s a not yet. If someone has put an X on something, that is not an indicator that you should pester them to change- let them decide when to change it. Note that this is not an exhaustive list of activities, so don’t treat it as such, just use it as a starting point, and discuss things not on this list as they come up.

-Hanging out in public -Hanging out online -Hanging out in private -Going on dates -Doing home dates -Driving/traveling together -Receiving gifts -Spending the night in the same house -Spending the night in the same room -Spending the night in the same bed -Hugging -Holding hands -Cuddling -Nonsexual caressing (rubbing shoulders, hair, etc) -Kissing -Physical intimacy (see physical intimacy section) -Going on trips -Spending multiple days together

As the relationship progresses, you may want to inform your partner that you’d like to explore something that you had previously put an X on. Please know that it is on you to set your boundary, but it’s important to set very clear rules and guidance on where it’s being lowered. For example, you might say you’re interested in nonsexual caressing, but do not want anyone touching your hair- please say so.

Warning phrase- Come up with a phrase that means stop. This could be as simple as Stop, or red light, or something silly or uncommon, to indicate that you need things to be serious right now. For example, if your partner is tickling you, and it is very overwhelming and you need her to stop right now, you might say ‘Pickle!’ and she should know that this means to stop. In turn, if someone uses this tool, thank them. It means that they are committed to making things work in a way that is comfortable to them.

Navigating neurodiversity- There’s no rulebook or road map for dating while neurodiverse, so it’s important to identify the pieces of your own neurodiversity that might come up during your time together. A good example of this might be a special focus on routine, or sensory issues- Perhaps your partner has a very rigid bedtime routine, and it’s important to respect that and not move his toothbrush from it’s usual spot, or perhaps he has an issue with high pitched noises, so you shouldn’t use an electric toothbrush while he’s in the bathroom. Give the same grace you would want given to you.

Navigating intimacy: Sex is complicated. Sex while neurodivergent, more so. It’s hard to know what works for you when the sexual landscape is designed for neurotypicals. That being said, it’s good to look at your own neurodivergence and think about how that might affect your sex life. Are you someone who is really into textures? Well, then you’re likely to enjoy certain aspects of touching your partner. Is routine big to you? Let your partner know so you can figure out setting up a night of the week for intimacy. Do you get bored of the same thing? Find a fun list of things to try in bed. Do you like to stim by touching yourself? Let your partner know that you doing this isn’t an invitation, or maybe that it can be, but set appropriate expectations about what you’re doing. Is there a trauma history to know about? You might not be in a place to discuss it now (or even have the ability to articulate it), but letting your partner know that you’ve had bad experiences, and want to make sure the experiences with them are good ones is a good way to put it on their radar without giving them any more detail than you want.

The following is a basic body chart to indicate where is good to be touched. Red is no, yellow is maybe, blue is yes, green is enthusiastically yes! Note that this may need to be revised at any time. You can also add lists of types of touch- for example, writing next to the back “Rub only.”

In public touch chart

In private touch chart

During intimacy touch chart

Overload touch chart (This is for when someone is experiencing a shutdown or sensory overload, indicating where you should or can touch them. Note that seeing a loved one go into a shut down can be very worrying, and your partner will want to help, so having guidance during this time can be very helpful.)

Ways I say no: Think about the ways you say you don’t want to do something anymore. Sometimes you might not have any, and if so, now’s the time to think of them! For example, say your partner is nibbling on your shoulder, and the sensation of her teeth is really grossing you out. Having a warning phrase can be useful, or there may be other ways you may want to have them know about, such as flinching, blinking quickly, or stopping talking.

Intimacy dos and don’ts:

Don’t do this until you’ve both decided that you’re comfortable exploring intimacy together. This is a list to be compared so you can look at activities you’d enjoy doing together. Note that it being on this list does not mean consent has been given- always check before doing something! Communication is how things go great!

Intimacy dos:

Intimacy maybes:

Intimacy nos:

For example, Sam might have the following:

Intimacy dos: Getting oral, kissing chest, scratching back (medium to hard), being pinned down, hands bound, neck biting, giving oral, talking dirty

Intimacy maybes: Fingering, having penetrative sex with condom, being tied up, licking my body, toys

Intimacy nos: Rimming, watersports, spanking, public sex

Note that, like anything on this list, you can add or change things, but let your partner know.

This is by no means an exhaustive list of tools you can use, but this helps lay things out overtly for people to share their interests and boundaries with each other, to help facilitate better communication as you begin and explore your relationship together!

#autism #autisexuality #sexuality #relationships

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thewritersaddictions · 1 year

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2023: Eddie Munson- Episode 13 Hourglass

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC! Lilly Miller

Pov: Eddie

Warnings: Marriage proposal, time flip, smut, fancy dinner out, 2025 to 1986, Dustin, Vecna fight, dreaming, a different life, angst, fluff. ETC

Summary: The night before Eddie decides to propose to Lilly. He takes her on a wonderful night wining and dining her. Falling asleep with her in his arms, and waking up somewhere else entirely.

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 5.6k

Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List // 2023 Series Master List

Two years later the plan that’s been worming its way into Eddie’s mind finally come to fruition. I laugh at myself, the rings iH ad bought nearly two years ago, had made itself home between my socks, and boxers. Waiting for the day it would come out into the fresh air, and be placed on Lilly’s hand. My thoughts had gotten to me that christmas and they had led me to not asking her to marrying me that year or the following year. This year would be different I thought to myself as I stared at the velvet box in the draw. Lilly’s shower taking extra long due to her need to be prim, and proper for dinner tonight. Two years ago I was able to graduate from a night class school, and get my GED. With that I was able, sadly might I add to leave my job at the auto body shop. The old man was more then sad to see me leave, so when I did leave. Lilly made a whole meal out of it. Packing several meals for the old man, and even getting him a little vacation gift card to Indy.

I had sued my GED to become a pretty good contractor, and with that job came a pretty good salary. So months ago when the wallet was thicker, and the afternoon was cold. I grabbed my phone and called a restaurant not far off in Indy. a steak house that served the best of the best for special nights like what I had planned. I called during my lunch break. I asked for the best glass of wine, and that I was going to be proposing to my girlfriend. I wanted something not to far, but far enough away from people that nobody saw what was happening. The hostess was kind enough to give us a private room, and so a part of the dinner was planned. Getting there would be the harder part, telling Lilly without telling her would be the harder part of all of it. Two weeks before our planned dinner I scheduled some time off, a whole week. The whole week leading up to, and the day of the proposal I’d take off. Let Lilly and I enjoy our time together. There would be no need for jobs, or anything else to get in the way. Now it was time to tell her what was going to happen.

“Lils, I need to tell you something babe.” I yelled as I walked into the trailer. The trailer was still the same. Furniture here and there. More hots, and books littered across the urface. The kitchen cabinets had grown to fit the mugs that Lilly had gifted me almost every year. Possibly starting a tradition of mugs for christmas. Regardless I waited for her. My boots were killing my feet so I sat at the kitchen table and waited for her there as I unlaced my boots. There’s a soft padding of feet from the back of the trailer. Socks are the first thing in my view. She’s all wrapped up. The new year, and valentines just having passed. The cold weather had yet to leave Hawkins. “Yeah babe.” She said standing there in froint of me with fuzzy socks and wrapped in warmth. “We are leaving town in a few days. Going out to Indy, so get to packin’ baby.” I said setting my boots off the side.

“What do you mean we’re leaving town, and going to Indy?” She asked me. “Exactly what I mean babe, you and I are going to go relax for a few days because when was the last time either one of us stopped for more then a rest or a dinner date out?” I ask her. Sure we had dinner dates, and went over to Steve and Robins but nothing with just the two of us. She looks down at me, I still can’t tell even now after two years if she knows when I’m serious or joking. Lilly goes to say something, but closes her mouth. “You got off from work?” She asks, I nod. “Now go pack I wanna leave in the morning.” I say standing and kissing her forehead softly, before making my way towards the bathroom. She stands there util I gather my things from the bedroom, and slip into the bathroom. The shower is just what I needed from a hard day at work, the work wasn’t hard per-say but it was nice being able to come home and relax under the hot spray of water. I hear the door open, “I’m just grabbing my stuff for our trip. Oh, wait how long are we gonna be gone?” Lilly asks me. I shrug, not that she can see through the shower curtain. “I’d say at least a week, and plan for a dinner at least once.” I say over the spray of water. I hear a few seconds later the door close back up. I finish my shower up, and get out wrapping the towel around my wasit. Indy is a few hours drive from Hawkins, so that means we would be leaving early in the morning.

When I manage to get back into the bedroom. Lilly has her suitcase laid out on the bed surface her entire side of the bed is taken up by clothes and her case. “What should I bring? She asks, holding up two options of dresses, I look between them then back at her. “For dinner?” I point at them, she nods. “I’d say the black one.” I start digging through my draws. Looking for a pair of sweats along with a good long sleeve shirt that hasn’t been stolen by Lilly yet. I grab my backpack that same one that i’ve been using for years now at this point. I don’t care for much of whatever I’m grabbing besides one set of nice clothes. The clothes that I’ll be wearing when I ask her to marry me. On my knees and asking for her hand.

She doens’t notice me grab the ring from the draw and shove it deep down in the bag. When I’m done, and ready for bed I notice that Lilly is stressing over what to pack. “Babe, Lilly. Will you stop stressing over what to pack.” She looks over at me. Frustration runs in her face. “Lilly listen to me will ya… you look great, wonderful in everything you wear. Just pack what you normally wear.” I say her shoulders drop, and she sighs out hard. She ends up just packing what she’s got on the bed. The black dress, and an assorment of jeans and long sleeves.

The first day is spend driving, listening to all sorts of music on the way, to many bathroom breaks to count, and crappy fast food on the side road of the highway. When we made it to Indy, the hunt for a good hotel started. Lilly was hunched over her phone searching for a hotel when we hit the city limits. She did end up finding a rather nice hotel, which when we did get there I told Lilly to not botherin with going in, I’d do that part get our room and she could get her things together.

When I got up to the front desk, the manager was sitting ther waiting. “Hello, sir how can I help you tonight?” He asked, “I need a room for two. I… how do i say this. I plan on aksing my girlfriend to marry me. So I need a room like that.” I said to the manager with a shrug of my shoulders. He nodded, “I think I have what you’re looking for.” “but not like to surprisey, i don’t want my girlfriend to know just yet ya know.” The manager nodded for a second time. He handed me the key to me after taking my information down, card imforntion and gave me a map of the hotel parking lot, and hotel buildings. “Thank you sir.” When I walked out of the foyer Lilly was standing ther at the back of the car. Digging out her bag, and mine. “You pack so light Eds.” She said as she started to roll her bag towards me. “It’s out of habit, love.” I tell her. The rest of the night is settling into the room, which thankfully doesn’t look to proposingy.

Day Two is spent in the morning first trying to figure out where the closet grocery store is, along with a good breakfast place is. Once all of that was found out, we went back to the hotel, putting away our groceries and then headed out to the four stared breakfast place. The drive wasn’t long beside being in a city it wasn’t much different then being back home in Hawkins. For the rest of the day was spent walking around the downtown area and searching for something easy to do. That’s when Lilly found that the tickets for the museum of art were on sale. Did either of us like art, we wer to find out when we walked through the cold building. Lilly was enmored by the art all over the alls. It took us hours to get through the entire museum, so when we were done it was nearly dinner. Again Lilly, and I went on the search for some sort of food in the downtown area. I ended up finding a great burger shop not far from the car. We sit together, and eat. The silence of the town falls into our dinner date.

Day Three is a great day. That morni g we wake up early. Opting to go to the hotels pool. Sure it’s March and it’s still cold but it’s all worth it to just spend a few hours in the pool and watch her splash around like a kids first time at the pool. When we leave it’s already mid evening, Lilly and I opt to just go back to the otel room. Smelling of chlorine, we take a shower separately because Lilly knows that if I get in the shower with her we’ll never leave the bathroom. While Lilly is showering I go through some of the grocery we had bought. I end up making al azy days meal. A few grilled chesse sit on top of each other while I wait on Lilly. She comes out in a sweats and a t-shirt of mine. “Grilled cheese.” I say waving towards the food. She smiles, “Of course, sir. I couldn’t think of a better meal.”

Day Four is spent doing what I thought was fun at least. Going to a few music stores for a new instrument. Lilly follows me by the heels of my feet. Sure she gazes and watches as a few people are all together in a sort of band. That night we get subs from a local deli. We sit in the deli, and the food is enough to keep us from talking. The plan of asking her to marry me is getting closer, and closer.

Day Five is a food and entertainment day. We do some shopping in the downtown area. Old antiques stores that Lilly had saw almost the first day we arrived in Indy. She’s enmored by all the old things that are apart of the store. “Look, look, look.” She says waving me over. Her hands are stuffed into a ratty box that’s filled with books and other old things. Lilly looks beautiful like she’s right at home. “What’d ya find, babe?” She looks up at me. Her face is gleaming with excitement. “Only all of the best things in the world.” I roll my eyes at her words. Hours go by before i have to end up dragging Lilly out of the building back to our car. So that we aren’t late to our food and entertainment show. Begrudgingly I’m ableto get Lilly out of the store without spending all of her money into the car, and to the show before we’re late to it.

Day Six is all about getting rest, and sleep. The past two days had been filled with adventure, and all sorts of things that meant that both of us were super fucking tired. I woke up when the warmth of Lilly next to me left. I heard the clink and clang of pans in the small kitchenet that came along with the hotel room. “Good mornin.” I said as I wrapped my arms around her wasit and pulled her away from the counter. “Hello, to you too sir.” She said softly. I nipped at her ear, and kissed her neck gently. “What are you making?” I asked, looked like pancakes, and maybe something like hashbrowns. “Someting good. Now go sit, and take this cup of coffee with you.” She said ushering me out of the kitchen space. Cause let’s be honest having someone else in the kitchen with you doesn’t alway work. It’s not always romantic to be cooking with your partner especially if you and your partner aren’t that good of cooks together. That whole day is spent lounge around the hotel room, watching returns of old jeopardy episodes, and trying to see if we’re smarter than half the people on those shows. Dinner is room service that night. Room service brings up a bottle of champagne, and a good chicken dinner which get devour before the campage bottle is even half empty. We cuddle, and turn on a movie that been playing on repeat on the DVR. Lilly falls asleep half way through the movie, and in my lap she get’s comfortable. When the movie ends I grab the remote and turn off the tv. I shift as to not wake Lilly up. I get ready for bed, and move sheets back so when I pick her up and place her back on the bed she’s a little bit more comfortable.

The seventh day. This day is more then special. I have to get everything ready. That morning I wake up in great sprits. I make us a great breakfast that I have to follow the directions online. Creeps, fruit, coffee. That’s all set out on the balcony of the hotel room. I have to wake Lilly gently. She shifts in her sleep, and opens her eyes slowly. “Hey, sweetheart. Do you want some food, coffee?” I ask her even though she’s still very sleepy. She nods her head, and shifts the sheets off of her body. I let her get herself together before dragging her towards the balancy. When her eyes set out on the little show I’ve put together she smiles widely. “This all looks so good babe.” She says. The first thing she picks up is her coffee. Then she takes a look out from the balancy. There’s nothing special but still a view of the city we aren’t to far away from. “ ihave a few things planned for today Lils.” I says as I sit down and start to cut into my meal. Her brows rise, “Really? Like what?” She asks, she sips on her coffee and chews her food. As I describe how I would love to take her to the zoo, and then come back get ready for that fancy dinner I had planned and told her about a week prior. She nods her head along with each thing. “So the zoo, and then come back get ready for this pseicla dinner, and then the actual dinner?” She asks, like she’s making sure she got it all right. I nod and take a sip of my now warm coffee. “What are you planning over there mister?” She asks, i shrug my shoulders. “Just wanted to take my lady on a proper vacation.” Her eyes squint like she’s trying to see into my heart, and soul. “Hmm, I’ll believe you for now.” She says and then finishes off her coffee, and breakfast.

Dishes land in the tiny sink, and we shower right after each other. With it still being cold outside. Lilly opted for that beautiful pair of jeans, and a long sleeve shirt that has a v-neck. Giving off a certain look that I’m head over heels for. I’m not too far off from what she’s wearing. My outfit has only one color throughout the whole thing. Black. She grabs her winter jacket, and I grab mine before the key and leave the hotel room off for the first part of the day. The drive back downtown this time is somewhat worse. The traffic is horrible, and as we wait for people and lights we listen to the music playing from the radio.

When we do finally get to a parking space, and to the actual zoo it’s not as cold outside. The morning sun warms the concrete ground, and keeps a constant flow of people out of their cars and into the zoo’s entrance line. “We should have bought tickets before we left Hawkins.” Lilly says, leaning back and forth on her feet. I nod my head agreeing with her comment, grabbing her gently on the waist and pulling her into my side. “Let’s just see how long the line takes.” Children run around as mothers who are already worn out try to catch them. The line in time shrinks, giving me the time I need to take my wallet out and wait for our turn. We buy tickets, and they wrap a paper bracelet around our wrists.

They have all different types of animals, and for the first few hours it takes us to get through just the land animals. Lilly is totally kept by the animals, and their descriptions. Some follow her through the glass, and some want to be fed by her. I stand back and just watch. She’s amazing in such a way that I don’t understand myself. “Babe?” “Hmm?” “Do you wanna ride the train?” Her eyes light up with a childlike joy. “Of fucking course I wanna ride the train.” Some moms look over and offended at the curse words that fall from her mouth, and into their precious children's ears. The train ride brings up around the complete land animals area. From there Lilly can truly see everything, and every animal. I’m able while she’s not really paying attention to snap a few pictures of her joyful smile.

We get a few snacks and travel towards the sea animals. Some dolphins, and the facts that Lilly pulls out of her head are amazing. Things that aren’t even written down on the multiple descriptions. Deserts, and Forests are the last sections we go to before I can see the tiredness wrap around Lilly’s head. “Hey let’s go baby.” I say grabbing her, pressing her up against me. Yawning, she nods her head and then rests it against my chest. It’s only mid afternoon when we get back to the car and the minutes that Lilly hits the passenger seat she knocks out. Not waking until I park at the hotel. She grumbles something about a great dream. “Babe, how about you go take a nap. I’ll wake you up before we have to leave.” I say to her as she walks like a sloth to the bed. A thumbs up is all I get.

Hours later I also wake up from a much needed nap, Lilly had never gotten under the covers, so she lays like a star-fish above the fluffiest covers ever. Her face has lines from the fabric and pillows. “Lilly, you gotta wake up.” I say softly as I shake her gently. She doesn’t stir, a deep sleeper. “Babe, you gotta get ready for our dinner.” I say a little louder, she stirs moving under me. “Lilly, you’ve gotta get up and shower.” I say once more, her eyes go wide and her head hits mine. “Oh shit, that hurt.” She says bring a hand to her forehead. I kiss her forehead, and she sits there for a moment. “Shower love.” I say before leaving the bedroom, and into the bathroom.

I had showered beforehand, and when the water finally turned off Lilly walked out in a black dress that she had asked me about, so she packed. Long lace stocking hind underneath the black fabric of the dress. Blue jeans, and something of a cowboy style takes over my style. She glimmers under the fluorescent lights in the hotel rooms. Grabbing our coats again we leave the hotel room for a second time today. Driving to the fancy dinner has my nerves on edge. I’m afraid of what might not even happen. Regardless, Lilly looks beautiful. I open her door, and take her hand as we walk into the restaurant. “Do you have a reservation?” The host asks me, “Yeah, under Munson.” I answer. I can see the surprised look on Lilly’s face from the corner of my face.

The dinner portion goes by quickly, steak and vegetable is what we both got. Wine sits in our wine glasses and the wild feeling grows against my chest, and lower stomach. I worry and then when I look up at Lilly it all disappears. She has a great ability to make me calm. “Deserts?” The waiter asks, I nod and so does Lilly. She orders, and then gets up. “I’ll be right back.” She says kissing my cheeks as she walks towards the back. The deserts come and so does Lilly. “Oh my god Eddie, this is great.” She murmurs with food in her mouth, I laugh even in this fancy restaurant she has dared to change how she is. I shift in my seat. No time like now I say inwardly. I get up from the chair, and walk over to the other side of the table. “Lilly?” She hums and notices I’m not in front of her anymore but at her side. Her eyes tell a story. A story of which she knows what’s about to happen. “Eddie, what are you doing?” She asks, I bit my lip for a moment. “Lilly will you do… I love you a fuck ton of a lot. I know we’ve had a few issues along the way. I want to ask you if you would do the pleasure of marrying me?” I ask, I wait on baited breath for an answer. I open the box, that damn ring I bought two years ago. “Yes Eddie… Yes I will.” She drops to her knees in front of me. I slip the ring on her finger, and a few cheers can be heard as she leans in and catches my lips.

I pay. Drive us back to the hotel. And deal with the nipping kisses that Lilly gives me on the way towards the door. But once that door opens I grab her and push her into the door shutting it. “Fuck you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to ask you.” I murmurs into her skin as I kiss her sloppily before grabbing her thighs and pulling her up. She giggles. “Come on Lilly, let me take care of you, yeah?” I ask, I walk the both of us towards the bedroom with her lips sucking hickies into my neck. I groan at the feel on my neck, and pants. “We gotta get you out of this dress.” I say simply, “Come on Eddie!” She whines, she slips her heels off, and that pulls me into her pulling at my belt, and throwing my shirt off my chest. Clothes are landing in piles on the floor. I get the dress off her frame. Bra, and black stocking staring up at me. “God you’re beautiful.” I mutter as I lace one hand it’s hers, and the other travels up her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. She moans softly at the feeling. Her bra comes off, nipples budding at the cold air. Stockings land on the floor, and the panties follow behind them. “God you’re soaked, such a naughty girl you are.” I groan. My own pleasure can be forgetting for now I think to myself as I get down on my knees. We are both well tuned into each other's bodies. I know that a flirt of my tongue on her clit will have her head shooting back. Moans bouncing on the hotel's walls, curses falling her pretty little mouth.

Nothing in the whole seems better than the life I’m living right now. To hell with how I managed to get such a great life. Such an apple pie life, how in the hell I’d managed such a beautiful woman to be between my shoulder blades. I pick up her legs lifting one at a time onto my shoulders. She smells like heaven as her legs open wider for me, she waits anticipating for my next move on her flavorfully body. I kiss up her thighs, hands rubbing equally on her outer thighs. She’s already a mess above me, hands flying into my hair and getting annoyed that I’m not working quick enough for her liking. But this is all in the slow motions of her body. In the best way possible I’m an absolute slave for her. I would lay my life down on the line and it would be all for her. In the name of Lilly I would do anything.

I take the first dive into her glistening cunt. Using both of my thumbs to spread her open. The cold air hits her cunt, and she moans loudly. I make sure to give equal attention to both her dripping cunt, and her clit. Sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud. Her hands dig into both the sheets, and my hair. I feel the ring. Cold hit my scalp and I love the feeling. I continue to eat her cunt, sticking the longest of my fingers into her soaked cunt I feel the plush warm walls surround my finger. A slow pump, and then another finger. There’s no need for any prep with her, but still I do it anyway.

She moans at the intrusion. I keep a good pace, licking and pumping my fingers. She stuttering, “Oh fuck, Ed!” “There you go sweet girl, you gonna cum on my fingers?” I ask her, my words mumbled by her cunt. She bucks into my fingers keeping the pace that she likes. “EDDIE!” She’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Before I know it she’s gushing. She coats my fingers and when I pull them out she whines at the loss of them. I look at her directly. Her eyes are filled with lust, and I still lift my tongue out licking each finger individually. She moans at the actions, not tired enough she pulls me up. We kiss and she tastes herself on my tongue. “Come on Eddie, I wanna ride you!” She whines. I’m not shocked by her words, but how she manages to flip them over. My back landing on the bedShe shimmies me out of my trousers. “You’re so handsome.” She says. Her hair is a mess, and when she comes back up to look at me her eyes are wide. My cock hits the cool air of the hotel room when she pulls my boxers down my thighs and throws them off to the side. Clothes are something to worry about later on.

She doesn’t hesitate to climb over my body, and sit on my thighs. Her hands are so soft, and gentle with my aching cock that I don’t even notice the change of position as she leans over and the most provocative moan falls from her lips. Her eyes squeeze shut as she takes the girth of my cock. Her warm now gooey cunt swallowed me in. Squeezing me tightly, before I’ve completely disappeared within her. Her hands land on my chest as she begins to rock. My hands are on her hips rolling with each rock. When she’s comfortable she begins to bounce. Hands still on my chest, I love the view I’m given. Breasts bouncing in front of my face it’s hard to not want to grab on to one of them and suck on them. I bit my bottom lip. Then Lilly is shifting her position yet again. Hands leaving my chest, and bracing on my ankles. I watch as my cock appears and disappears from her cunt. The sight of it all. The sight of her enjoying the ride of my cock almost makes me explode right there. I want to enjoy this though, make it as long as possible.

She cunt squeezes me, and I can’t hold on anymore. My breathes become ragged, and my eyes want to shut. I let go, without a warning for which I doubt Lilly even wants. I let go. Deep inside of her, and with that so does Lilly. Her warm insides surround my cock, and I help her through her high as she helps me through mine. Breathless moans, and shifting on the bed happen.

I don’t dare move until Lilly is breathing normally, or at least half way normal. I laugh when I open my eyes and she’s blissfully off in the distance. “God I fucking love you.” I whisper. I can’t get over how beautiful she is, how amazing she is. I stare a little longer until the cool air makes me cold. I make my way towards the en-suite. Gathering a clean washcloth, dampening it with luke-warm water. When I return she’s already half asleep. I’m careful with my motion on her sore and tender skin. Wiping away most of the mess we created before moving the sheets away from the top of the bed, and moving her under them.

I see the glint of the diamond ring under the en-suite light. I smile down at her as I set the washcloth on the tub's side, and get back to the women I love so deeply it sometimes scares me. I gather the clothes and set them into a pile. ‘For wash tomorrow’ I think to myself. I put my boxers back on and climbed underneath the sheets with her. She curls into my side as I lay down. “I love you” She mutters in her sleep. I kiss the crown of her head. Wrapping my arm around her side and pulling her as humanly possible. I fall asleep in a blissful peace, one that is rare but such a great feeling.

—

“Eddie!” I’m not sure who’s calling my voice but it’s a voice so familiar to my ears. I can’t shake the way I feel. Almost dirty as I lay there. Unable for now to wake. “Eddie seriously this isn’t funny we need to get going!” I heard more shouts. More voices. Clean and clear are the ones right above me. “Eddie, come on dude.” I’m able now to open my eyes. I'm inside of my trailer. But I was pretty sure I had fallen asleep in Indy. In a hotel room. In the arms of my girl. My girl? “Steve, just help him up!” I hear another voice yell out. “Lilly?” It’s the first word that comes to mind. “No it’s me Munson.” That’s clearly Steve’s voice, and god when was the last time someone called me Munson. “Get him up, we need to leave.” My trailer is covered in thick gooey black vines. I come to a fast realization I’m not at all where I thought I was. I take the extended hand out. Steve is still standing there with a thick bandage around his waist. “Thanks.” I mutter, he nods and then I see the ropes and the kids standing on the other side of it.

Dustin, Max, Erica, Robin all of them are there. “Where did you go dude?” I hear Steve ask as I walk over to the rope. “I’m not sure.” It’s the truth. It all felt so damn real. It was so touchable, the feelings were real too. Was Lilly? I wonder about it all as I climb the rope and land on the shitty, stain ridden bed. “Eddie? Jesus fuck I thought we had lost you there for a moment.” It’s Dustin. He's hugging me tightly. He’s young again, a kid. Stupid curly hair that I shake. “I.… Vecna?” I say, he nods his head. “Yeah we gotta come up with a plan though for this shit.” He says, I move letting Steve come through the gate.

“We gotta get a ride then.” I say, I turn to Red. “You gotta ski mask, or somethin’ like that?” I ask her,she thinks for a moment. “Yeah I’ve got on.” As we wait for her to return I think of her. I think of Lilly, but the thoughts and memories start to fade. Disappearing into the void of the upside down maybe? “What happened?” Dustin asks me. I look over at the kid, “I think I got a glimpse of another life. I was engaged, and you were old with kids and fat. Harrington and Robin were married, still not really sure why.” Steve chuckles, and Robin makes a sound of throwing up. “Not that you aren’t my type, but you aren’t.”I hear Robin say to Steve he scoffs. “One hell of a dream Munson.” Harrington says. “Yeah.” I say softly as Red comes back in with a mask. A Halloween mask to be exact. I look at the people around me. “Let’s go steal an RV!”

Completed on: 07/13/23

Posted on: 07/22/23

The Adults- @yourfavdummy @mothermirkwood

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pwblogarchive · 2 months

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December 2001

December 4, 2001

“i keep her heart in a box next to my bed and take it out sometimes before i go to sleep…”

|10:30 pm]

[ Current Music | the cure: all ]

what’s up. it’s been awhile. we had one of the best and worst weekends as a band ever. our record release was great- kids went pretty insane and we sold a bunch of cds. however, our trip to cleavland was horrid.

first, we leave late for the show. next we get a flat outside of toledo- the tow truck guy picks us up in a van to go and get a tire. on the way i tell him we are in town for the adult film festival. a half hour later we get another flat. this time 20 miles outside of cleavland. the towtruck driver tells us that we won’t be able to get a tire that night as he tows us. at least he buys a cd cause i tell him we sound like slipknot. i then call the promoter and tell her our story, i tell her to have our friends in the band Deadtofall come pick us up cause they are from chicago too. instead she gets super pissy and is all “i’m coming to get you, i’m leaving the show unattended… blah blah”. she gets to the toll plaza that we are stuck at and we grab our guitars and some cds and get in. the whole ride she bitches at me about how she thinks this is our fault and shit. we get to the show and borrow deadtofall and the funeral’s stuff and play one of the worst shows we have ever played, honestly we were so sloppy. this had something to do with playing on other equipment and so forth. we sold a couple of cds anyway which was nice. 100 demons was supposed to play next on santa sangres equipment but since they broke up, they were going to use our equipment but we had none because of the flats… to make a long story short they weren’t given any equipment and got pretty pissed off. people ended up demanding money back- they wanted some- in the end we got paid nothing (because of the hassle we “created” by getting two flats) and ended up spending a fortune on getting towed and new tires. deadtofall drove some of us home that night and some slept in the toll plaza and waited till morning to walk two miles to get a new tire. on the way a cop stopped them and when giving them ride informed them he had picked up 100 demons the night before for having drugs in their van. yikes. ah you win some you lose some.

the dates for our winter tour:

12.30 evansville, in - 7a7p

12.31 cincinatti, Oh- 7a7p

1.1 syracuse-w/ throwdown

1.2 ottawa, on-w/throwdown

1.3 montreal, pq -throwdown

1.4 long island, ny

1.5 philly

1.6 nyc-w/throwdown

and a review of our new record from hanging like a hex fanzine:

“This easily wins scariest layout of the year award. Very blunt, very graphic, and very disturbing, this Chicago piledriver unleases it’s most solid work to date. Whereas I really liked what they were doing before, but felt that they dragged out their songs, and overloaded them with too much baggage at times, this debut full length simplifies things a bit. The heaviness and technicality is still there in spades, but the songs have shortened up a bit, and are a bit more concise, which is something this band really needed. And it works really well. Playing pummelling metalcore with down-tuned riffing, and a heavily pessimistic view of the world, Arma just crush everything in their path, and continue to maim with no concern for the past, present, or future. It’s a great effort with supurb recording (heavy on the bass I might add) and a bleak outlook.”

in other good news i’m finally gonna get to hang out with this girl i have been missing for the past month or so. shes come’s into town tommorrow- yep.

love petey

December 9, 2001

“ bootcut jean and black t-shirt hardcore”

fallout boy played tonight. it was fun the rest of the Angelus didn’t show up, oh well.

some people have been writing asking about posters and shit… if you want one.. just send a buck to 900 forest wilmette, il 60091 and i will send one right out with some stickers and stuff.

oh yeah, if a show is not posted on here then we are not playing it…

love pete

December 19, 2001

“Faithless is he who says farewell just as the path darkens”

hey lovers,

so i have been having a horrible week. i’m not even sure why. i guess cause i’m really alone. nobody is really around and it’s cold as hell. then i read this horrible review of our record- on most days it would make me laugh but last night it was the worst. most of the reviews have been good but this one trashed it “horrible, gutteral vocals… droning guitars” haha.

it made up for it though when i went to Lord of the Rings at midnight last night. easily one of the best movies of the last decade. phenomonal.

i dunno, also we’ve been trying to write as a band lately and it’ been good at times and horrible at others. we’ll see how it turns out-

here’s the new and final dates for tour:

12/30-Indianapolis,IN-venue-Festvilla more info [email protected] with 7 Angels 7 Plagues

12/31-Cincinnatti,OH-venue-The Void more info [email protected] with 7 Angels 7 Plagues

1/1-Syracuse,NY-venue-Armory High with Throwdown,Converge,Bleeding Through

½-Ottawa,ON-venue-Club Saw more info [email protected] with Throwdown and Bleeding Through

1/3-Montreal,PQ-venue-Salle'X more info [email protected] with Throwdown and Bleeding Through

¼-Long Island,NY-venue-TBA more info [email protected]

1/5-Philadelphia,PA-venue-Chord more info [email protected] with Punishment,Dark Day Dawning

1/6-New York City,NY-venue-CBGB’S more info [email protected] with Throwdown,Bleeding Through,From Autumn to Ashes,plus more.

this is farewell to falling in love with all the wrong hearts and screaming the worst stories you’ve ever heard. i’ll confide only in paper and die by the phone on saturday nights (no love is safe)…

come out and hang out with us.

pete

December 19, 2001

“an empty house and a cold bed”

whoops. i read back that last entry and realized that i whipped it off like shit, it doesn’t really make alot of sense. okay so the follow up- i think more of how i have been feeling lately is like- i look bac five years, almost 10 years and i’m in the same place i was then. i live in the bedroom i grew up in at my parents house. i am trying to finish school and i am still doing hardcore bands. living this thing. i dunno it kind of got me down- like i feel like i hven’t eally made any progress, like i haven’t grown up at all. whatever. does that even make anymore sense? like i don’t really feel like being alive but at the same time i don’t want to be dead. so i trod through life being neiher alive or dead… anyway here’s my week:

thursday- fallout boy practice, fallout boy show in milwaukee

friday- fallout boy recording, Arma Angelus show with deadtofall, then fallout boy is playing on loyola radio.

saturday- fallout boy recording, sleep

oh yeah come see Arma Angelus at the fireside Dec. 28 if you are around: it’s with Knives Out (ex-american nightmare) and Suicide Note.

Goodnight.

December 30, 2001

“what’s inside? is it just guts and black stuff? i’ll find out soon.”

so we’re leaving right now on tour. hopefully i will see some of you soon. if we owe you some gear and what not come up to me at a show and i will hook you up. otherwise have a great new year. no heat in a van to canada- yes.

love pete

#fall out boy #pete wentz livejournal #pete wentz #livejournal

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stampwithtami · 6 months

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DIY Handmade Cell Phone Message Pull Out Card Tutorial

CELL PHONE PULL "WOW" CARD I'm thrilled to share with you a craft project that's bound to leave a lasting impression – this interactive Cell Phone Message Pull Out card. Whether you're a tech aficionado or not, this interactive card is sure to captivate your friends and loved ones. This isn’t just any ordinary card with a simple pull, a string of personalized text messages emerges, mimicking the experience of checking your phone for notifications. It’s so lifelike, you might just forget it’s made of paper! Timing and Occasions: I chose to set the "phone time" to 11:11 for its significance as a moment of synchronicity and positivity. However, feel free to customize it to match special dates like birthdays, anniversaries, or any occasion close to your heart. This card is versatile and perfect for birthdays, anniversaries, or any celebration that deserves a touch of handmade magic. Envelope: While this card fits perfectly in a standard envelope, if you’re sending it through the mail, I recommend adding extra protection with a bubble wrap and opting for hand-canceling to ensure it arrives in pristine condition. Instructions: Ready to dive into the crafting process? I’ve got you covered with step-by-step instructions accompanied by clear photos to guide you through each stage. Additionally, I've prepared graphics for the messages, perfectly sized for printing on cardstock. For those familiar with Canva, I’ve even included a link to a customizable template, allowing you to effortlessly drag and drop your own photos into the template. Simply switch out my images for yours, print on white or balmy blue cardstock, and let your creativity shine! Video Tutorial: Prefer visual guidance? Look no further! Below, you'll find a video reel demonstrating each step of the crafting process, making it even easier to bring this unique card to life. Inspiration: My inspiration for this project came from the talented Quintal Malara - Quinsarte from India. Crafting this Cell Phone Message Pull Out card is not just about creating a beautiful piece of art; it’s about infusing your personal touch and love into every detail. Whether you’re a seasoned crafter or a novice, I hope this tutorial sparks joy and inspires you to spread happiness one handmade creation at a time. Happy crafting! Tami INSTRUCTIONS & PRINTABLE TEMPLATE INSTRUCTIONS PDF ⬇ The instructions include measurements, step by step photo directs to create this card. There is also a clickable supply list and printable with graphics. DOWNLOAD INSTRUCTIONS If you are familiar with Canva you can use this template to drag and drop in your photos and print on card stock. EDITABLE CANVA TEMPLATE SUPPLIES I USED SUPPLIES I USED TO CREATE THIS CARD⬇ You can click these links to view these products in my online store. In addition to these I used a 1/2" Circle Punch and a Corner Rounder. STAMPIN' UP! CATALOGS CURRENT SPECIALS VIDEO SHORT PHOTOS Whether you’re a tech enthusiast or not, this interactive card is sure to impress. Simply pull of the "swipe" a string of personalized text messages. I chose to set the "phone time" to 11:11 for its significance as a moment of synchronicity and positivity. But you could change that to a birthday or anniversary. Write your personalized messages that unfold as you pull You can even add mini photos to the "text" message panel. I've created these "messages" graphics for you on the pdfs above. Kind of cool the phone card actually stands on it's own as when the messages are folded up they act as a kickstand. Want to save these ideas for later? Pin them to your favorite Pinterest board. Have you tried these designs? I love to see your creations! Be sure to share them on #shareyourcrafts post every Saturday on my Facebook Page Read the full article

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thetoxicgamer · 1 year

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Space Marine 2 is Gears of War on steroids, and a treat for 40k fans

40k Warhammer Space Marine 2 is primarily a third-person shooter and just secondarily a Warhammer 40k game. That's not to suggest that a sequel to the tale of Titus, a former Firstborn Captain of the Ultramarines Space Marine Chapter, won't be given to ardent aficionados of the universe, but if, like me, it means little to you, Space Marine 2 won't lose you in the minutiae of its lore. After playing an hour of Space Marine 2’s second level and having a chat with Saber Interactive creative director Oliver Hollis-Leick at Gamescom 2023, it became very clear to me that the team is aiming to strike a balance between doing right by longtime fans and people like me when the Space Marine 2 release date rolls around later this year. Hollis-Leick played Dawn of War 2 when it came out and has read so many Warhammer 40k books and novels that I imagine he has whole shelves dedicated to the series, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about new fans. “How do we make it feel accessible to someone who’s got no familiarity with whatsoever?” Hollis-Leick ponders. “We worked with Games Workshop to relax some of the terminology where possible, to use more common terms to make this a little bit easier to understand. Also, I wanted to avoid massive exposition dumps at the start of the game about what Aterian is, what a Rubicon Primaris is, and all that stuff. So it was a combination of simplification and drip-feeding as much visual storytelling as possible.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uzucEQ-VhHQ That visual storytelling is immediately evident too, with a massive mud-drenched battlefield opening up the second level while soldiers bark orders at one another and fight the Tyranids – Warhammer 40k’s aliens that are reminiscent of the bugs in Starship Troopers – as they come running at you in droves. There’s so much in the character design and world itself that isn’t outright explained, and yet Space Marine 2 absolutely feels part of a larger universe that easily welcomes you into its mechanics. Warhammer 40k fans will not be left wanting, I’m sure of it, even if the presentation isn’t immediately lore-heavy. While Space Marine 2 is not a cover shooter, instead opting for a blend of ranged and melee combat against hordes of enemies that you can tackle in up to three-player co-op, it will definitely appeal to fans of that genre. If you thought the jacked dudes, screaming, and gore of Gears of War was intense, Space Marine 2 dials that up to 11 while offering you a smooth blend of ranged and melee combat. Because Saber Interactive is leveraging its tech from 2019’s World War Z, Space Marine 2 will see you fending off hordes of enemies as they scramble over each other to reach your position, and when they do you’ll need to dodge roll, melee attack, and parry your way around the battlefield. Space Marine 2 is a delicate dance of off-the-cuff judgments, where your choice comes down to point-blank executions or chainsaws through the chest. “We felt that the story of a Space Marine cannot be told without that epic scale,” Hollis-Leick adds. “So there is a lot of sort of programming wizardry that goes into it, we have to be very efficient with graphics.” You’ll see swarms of Tyranids from hundreds of meters away bearing down on you like a flock of birds, only for them to push right up to your position and charge you without a second thought. Space Marine 2 is a successful exercise in over-the-top game design. You’re controlling an eight-foot-tall immortal man who likely weighs over 1,000kgs in armor, and you’re somehow gliding around the battlefield like an Olympic figure skater. While that might sound like it shouldn’t work on screen, it really does. The movement and gunplay are top-tier, and this is what makes it appeal to anyone who doesn’t know their Space Marines. The core experience of Space Marine 2 is so good that newbies won’t feel lost, but while big fans will definitely still get what they want. If you’re also a fantasy gamer, we’ve got all the best Warhammer games you’ll ever need as well, alongside some brilliant co-op games to keep your squad busy in the meantime. Read the full article

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fragileswift1313 · 2 years

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Birds!

Featuring the first cross-post with Tumblr!

Kia ora, friends!

Before I begin, I just want to say... hello again! (and sorry about the weird AI-generated bird)

It's been quite a while since I posted here, but that's all changing as of today. For a few months I've been writing a Substack publication about my personal fiction-writing and a bit about videogames as well, and I decided I should try something new to reach some more people. I was listening, today, to an episode of the excellent Decoder podcast from The Verge and Nilay Patel with the CEO of Tumblr and I thought, "I have a tumblr! Maybe I should use it?" so here I am. This is my most recent post, and while I'm looking for a solution to port all of my other posts over to Tumblr, I don't feel hopeful, so at least for now, you can read all of those here, and subscribe to get new posts in your inbox every Monday at 8:00AM NZST. Going forward, I will also be posting my new stuff here at the same time and date, so look out for that!

Anyway, let's dig in.

Now, if you know anything about me from Twitter or Mastodon at this point, it probably won’t surprise you to know that a bunch of my writing prompts literally come from dreams I’ve had. I figure, if it worked for Stephenie Meyer, why not me, right? Not all of my dream ideas have been good ones, and often I don’t even remember them fully, but there’s a core idea that sticks in my brain. You might remember this post from a couple of weeks ago where I woke up to a text I’d sent myself that just said “New Bees”, and while I had no idea what I had meant by that, those two words still worked for me as a great prompt - and I was pretty happy with what I ended up with.

That brings me to today’s item: Bird After Bird. I’m hesitant to call this, in it’s current form at least, a story - it’s more a description of an occurrance, if that makes sense. This is probably not something I am going to revisit any time soon because the concept is so surreal and otherworldly to me right now, but it might come up again later if I add to it, or if I have the dream again and remember more of it. Now, I’ll get to what I’ve written in a sec, but I want to put a quick content warning here; this one contains some birds being killed, so if you’re not down with that, maybe skip this one. There’s nothing graphic or gory, but it is explicitly mentioned and described. Okay, now if you’re cool with that, let’s get into the… thing I wrote.

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

She was picking up bird after bird from the benchtop beside her, giving them a quick knock on the backs of their necks with the handle of a knife to instantly kill them, and then placing them in a bowl at her other side. The birds sat patiently there, awaiting their turn, chirping amongst themselves, as one after another met their end. I was confused, and concerned.

"What was happening here? What is its purpose?"

And she stood there, the scene practically silent, except for the soft chirping of the birds and the dull blow of the knife handle. I watched her, motionless. She knew I was there but did not acknowledge me. “I don’t know why, but there must be a reason,” I heard myself say, and it seemed to comfort her. She didn’t reply, she just kept picking up the birds, swiftly killing them, and placing them into the bowl.

We stood there for hours. The birds kept coming, she kept working, and the bowl… never seemed to get full. Time seemed to be standing still; the sun had not moved in the sky, and the wisps of cloud in front of it remained. The air was cool and crisp and still.

I felt that I loved her, and she loved me, but the birds kept lining up next to her, one after the other, offering themselves to her knife, to her bowl. What did it mean? I asked her, but again she didn’t respond. Whatever the purpose of this action was, it seemed to be beyond us both, maybe even the birds themselves.

“I don’t know why, but there must be a reason.”

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

And that’s it. I felt really weird writing this, like it’s a memory that doesn’t make sense? I hope you all liked this, or at least found it interesting. I might look at doing more writing like this at some point, so let me know if that’s something you’d like to see. As always you can hit me up at the links at the bottom of the page, and if you want to see some more of my writing you can check out my Letterboxd - I recently reviewed M3GAN and it seems like I liked it more than a lot of people! 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Thanks so much for reading, everyone. I’ll talk to you all again soon.

Ka kite anō au i a koe. 💚

#fiction #surreal #short story #dream #queer writers #trans writers #lgbtqia+#non-binary writers #otautahi #christchurch #aotearoa #new zealand #writing #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writers of aotearoa #writers of new zealand

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luveline · 2 years

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bribery and a movie | steve harrington x mayfield!reader

summary Steve wants a date with Max’s older sibling. You want Max to be happy. It doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking. [3k]

warnings fluff, first date, steve is a pining mess, mutual pining, max is a baby angel sweetheart that deserves the world, gn!reader, mayfield!reader, mentions of domestic violence not graphic, pre-s4, some s4 spoilers, requested here

“Bribery is a felony,” Max says, looking up at Steve with her solemn eyes.

Steve leans against the store window behind him. Family Video glows red, painting the young girl in neon crimson, her auburn hair aflame. He knows she’s playing hardball — there has to be something a sixteen year old girl wants enough to accept a bribe, even if that bribe is to secure a date with Max’s hot older sibling.

Steve tries to be very patient. If he gets hysterical Max will react with sarcasm and ridicule, and Steve will lose.

“There has to be something you want.”

“Enough to serve up my sibling like a piece of meat? Classy.”

“Not serving up! I just want a date. One date. Or a phone number, I’m not picky.”

“Y/N isn’t interested in boys.”

“At all, or just me?”

Max, sitting on the hood of Steve’s car with her skateboard across her knees, grins. “Just you.”

“And they said this to you?” he asks incredulously.

“In a way,” Max says.

He’s quickly at the end of his rope, tipping his head back, mouth open in indignation. “You’re hurting my feelings.” He scrubs a hand over his face and then presses his hands together pleadingly. “I would be a perfect gentleman. Dinner, a movie, that’s it.”

“And then a quick soiree at Skull Rock.”

“No!” Steve shouts. After smiling at a startled customer on their way out of the store, he says, “No, of course not.”

Max looks unconvinced. She hops down off of the hood and sets her board on the ground with more kindness than she’s ever shown him, one foot on like she’s about to push off. Steve feels it for what it is.

A vague threat to up his bribe.

“There has to be something you want, Mayfield.”

“For you to stop propositioning my sibling via me? I’m not their pimp.”

“I’m not propositioning. Just asking you to ask them if they may or may not be interested in me.”

He’d do it himself if he could talk to you without pissing his pants.

Max sighs, kicking the skateboard up into her waiting hands. She’s wearing her new jacket, blue with yellow accents, and it turns purple in the store's light. It’s getting late. She shouldn’t be skating around in the dark.

“Look, get in. I’ll drive you home,” he says, feeling dejected at being nowhere closer to a date.

Max hesitates and tilts her head, messy red braids falling to one side. “Shit,” she says under her breath. “Fine, I’ll ask them for you. I know you’re a good guy deep down, Steve. Deep, deep down.” Her voice is smooth as silk, her mouth open in a sympathetic smile. “And who knows, maybe they’ll find you inexplicably attractive. A beat up 733i, a steady job at Family Video, no college degree, no opportunities-“

“What the hell, Max?” he asks, scowling. He can’t believe he almost fell for her sarcasm. Again. A year ago he would’ve ruffled her hair. Instead, he pushes up off the window with a groan. “You're a little shit, you know that?”

Max smiles saccharine sweet and nods.

He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand and fishes for his keys in his pocket. “Alright, get in the car before I change my mind.”

“Y/N’s coming to get me.”

Steve thinks he might have gone a bit deaf for a second or five. “Here? Y/N’s coming here? To Family Video?”

“That’s what I said.”

Sure enough, what can’t have been ten seconds later your car turns a corner and there you are through the window, beautiful and radiant and so out of Steve’s league he forgets to breathe, even from the side. You roll down the window and turn. He chokes.

“Hey, Maxie,” you call brightly, arm crossed over the open window.

Steve sees the way Max’s face lights up even though she tries to hide it.

“Hey, Steve,” you add. “Family Video? Nice.”

“H-hey, Y/N.”

Max looks between the two of you, disgusted, walking to the trunk to throw in her board. She drags her feet like listening to your interaction is torturing her.

“How’s it going?” you ask pleasantly.

Steve feels like he’s shrinking under your gaze, obsessed with your hair and your skin and the way your eyes are basically sparkling in the evening dark.

“It’s going,” he says, voice high. He coughs. “Yeah, definitely going. How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. We’re okay. I got a new job with my mom at the diner. I look killer in the uniform,” you tell him with a cheeky smile.

“I bet you do,” he says.

You laugh quietly. “Yeah, I’m the bell of the ball in that place.”

Max opens the passenger door. You give Steve an intoxicating smile. “Nice to see you!” you call, rolling up the window.

It’s firmly closed by the time he’s managed to reply. “Nice to- oh.”

He blinks, ashamed and embarrassed, looking down at his wrecked shoes with something close to pleading. God, he thinks, if you’re real, let the ground swallow me up. Please.

“Steve!” Max calls.

He flinches, his attention drawn back up. Max stands with the door open and resting on her hip, leaning over the roof of the car with a begrudging expression. He tries not to look at you, your hands fiddling with something hanging off of your rear view mirror.

“Kate Bush, Hounds of Love on cassette. The day it comes out. The day it comes out,” she emphasises.

“Whatever you want!” he promises, tripping over his words in a rush to get them out.

Max glares at him. “Don’t make me regret this.”

You smile at your little sister in the passenger seat. Her braids are a mess, loose and windblown from skating. You slow at a red and take the opportunity to reach out, running one through your fingers gently.

“They’re a mess, Maxie.”

Max pretends to be mad. “You weren’t there.”

“Sorry, baby.”

She shrugs. It’s been hard on her — everything. Losing Billy, your step dad leaving (though he was an asshole), moving into the trailer home, a summer alone; she'd broken up with her boyfriend and was spending less time with her friends. She’s been having bad headaches and nightmares.

Max doesn’t tell you much besides the bare minimum. Good thing your baby sister hasn’t ever needed to say her feelings aloud before you clocked them.

“You know my shifts are early now. With the overtime, and mom’s, we should be real comfortable.”

“Comfortable,” she scoffs.

You chew your bottom lip and take a long turn. “Don’t be like that. Overtime got you your new jacket. Which looks great, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

You frown even more at her serious, grateful tone, reaching out for your little sister's hand blindly. Max is kind enough to save you the effort and you give her smaller fingers a brilliant squeeze.

“You don’t have to say thanks to me. You deserve everything you want, Max. You know that.”

There’s a long silence then. You steal your hand back and flick on your indicator.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

You giggle, startled peels, and can’t help but look at her.

“Am I happy?”

“Are you happy?” she repeats resolutely.

“Of course I am. I have you. I have mom. Every night we go to bed with full bellies, and we don’t ever have to worry about someone laying their hands on us.”

“But are you happy? Are you…lonely?”

“Max, baby, is this about Lucas? You know, it’s okay to miss people, especially when you’re struggling-”

“No, it’s not about Lucas.” She slouches down in her seat, the seatbelt almost strangling her. You hold in the urge to scold her and wait for her to explain. “Do you like Steve?”

“Sure I do.”

“Enough to go out with him?”

You give her a tight smile. “I don’t have time for boys.”

Max looks out the window. You’re on the road outside the trailer now. You pull your car up onto the grass though you’re not supposed to and put it in park. Neither of you move to get out.

“He’s very handsome. And sweet. I think if I had a little bit more time and he asked me, then yes. I’d go out with him,” you tell her honestly.

Max doesn’t just admire honesty, she thrives on it. It’s good for her to feel trusted, and right now all you want is for her to be happy when she so clearly hasn’t been.

She looks at you seriously. “I don’t think you and mom both need to work overtime.”

“Come on. We have to take what we can get. You start high school in a few weeks, you need new clothes, a new bag. One of those fancy calculators,” you say, going for an airy lightness.

“I don’t need new clothes,” Max says, almost angry as she tears off her belt.

“We just want you to feel good about-”

“I would be happier if I thought you were happy,” Max says, quick and firm, pushing open the passenger door with her leg. She scrambles out, stands up tall, and then ducks her head back inside the car. “If you go, Steve said he’ll get me the new Kate Bush cassette.”

You pull the keys out of the ignition and give your scheming sister a reluctantly impressed chagrin.

“He really is handsome,” you say, sighing. Max’s smile is worth it, even if he turns out to be a real freak.

Steve doesn’t look like a freak outside Enzo’s. He looks tall. Casual enough, a button down and a pair of dark trousers, fancy shoes but not too fancy. He stands with his back to you but you’d know that hair anywhere. You call out his name as you approach.

It seems natural to give him a kiss on the cheek. He’s pretty and he’d been really, really nice over the phone when you’d called. Funny, slightly doting. And he’d said a bucketful of nice things about Max.

You were sold.

“Hi,” you say happily as you set back on your shoes.

“Hi,” he says, equally enthused.

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit late,” you say quickly.

You don’t have a watch. Steve doesn’t look at his own as he says, “No, you’re not late. I was early.”

He opens the door for you and gives his name for the reservation and soon you’re sitting down just close enough to the kitchen to smell a little bit of everything they’re making. Being asked on a date is nice in that you know Steve likes you, at least enough to ask, if not more, so all the real pressure is on him.

He’s feeling it, you think, his eyes everywhere but your face as he takes off his jacket.

“I’ve never been on a real date,” he says.

“Me neither,” you smile, “‘Less you count, like, prom.”

He raises his eyebrows, pushing up his sleeves as he slides forward, his full attention on you. You melt under his warm, brown gaze. “Who did you go with?”

“Randy.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. You grin, ready to lay into him.

“You have a problem with Randy?”

“What? No, no problem with Randy. Randy’s a nice guy. Really… tolerable.”

You snort. A waiter puts down two menus and asks if you’re ready for a round of drinks. Steve asks for a soda and you hold up two fingers with a smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you confide, hedging forward on your elbows to be closer to him. “Randy was tolerable. He was a bad kisser, though.”

“I’ve heard that about him,” Steve says.

“Yeah?”

“No.”

A small silence, then you’re bursting into laughter, hand thrown up to cover your mouth.

“Have you had dinner here before?” you ask once the giggles have faded.

“No, but Dustin said we should try the Ziti.”

“Dustin…” you squint, eyes looking up to your lashes quizzically. “Max’s friend?”

Steve pales but saves himself quickly. “Yeah, Dustin Henderson. He’s like,” his lips part but nothing comes out. He wets his lips. “He comes to me for advice. And I look out for him, drive him places. He’s a good kid. Funny.”

“So he’s like your little brother.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why Max likes you so much,” you say, nodding.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would. Max is very particular, you know.”

“Trust me, I do.”

Your soda arrives and Steve orders the baked ziti. You ask for the same, this time aloud, and then spend the time waiting looking over Steve appreciatively. He’s very handsome, as you’ve said, with a nice body and a nice smile, but what you really like about him is his kindness. He asks questions, seems more than intrigued by your answers. His chin rises as he answers yours, humble and funny.

He’s also a bumbling idiot, visually smitten and easy to get a rise out of. You’re obsessed.

“The uniform,” he’s saying, a fork held loosely in his hand, “you have an apron?”

“And why does that matter, Harrington?”

“You know, just in case you get messy.”

You put down your drink. “That’s disgusting,” you say seriously, knowing perfectly well he wasn’t insinuating anything.

He blushes mad scarlet. “No, I didn’t-”

You can’t contain a smile, laughing as it dawns on him.

“Oh, you’re mean,” Steve says. He doesn’t sound like he minds.

You finish up, running late for the ‘movie’ part of dinner and a movie. He insists on paying. You insist on going halves. It’s brisk outside and he’s quick to offer you his jacket. It smells like him, amber buried beneath bergamot, sandalwood, a handful of rich smells. A cologne you could get used to, you think, his jacket over your shoulders as you walk to his car.

You’re about two feet from his car, dizzy with how well you’re getting on and excited to see a new blockbuster with him when he puts a hand out between you. You slow.

“You have…” he says, hand raised slowly to your face.

You close your eyes and he draws near, careful where he touches your face. His fingertips brush against the well of your eye and pinch, his warmth disappearing. You blink open your eyes and see he’s holding an eyelash in front of your face.

He’s looking at the eyelash. You look at him, his brown eyes hedged in long, dark lashes, his thick eyebrows. He has a darling crop of freckles smattered over his nose and cheeks.

It’s dark out now. The ebbing light of the restaurant kisses his face, throws a shadow across his cheek as it hits his straight nose. His lips form words and you’re enchanted.

“Make a wish,” he says easily.

You close your eyes to think. For Max to be happy, you decide. And then, a voice that sounds suspiciously of your aforementioned sister, for me to be happy.

You blow the eyelash away and open your eyes. Steve’s hand hovers in front of your chest for a moment. You can’t explain why, only that the light and his company and the fullness of a great meal has made you slap dap happy, but you step forward, closing the gap until there’s less than a half foot of space between your rising chests. His hand bumps into your shoulder.

He has a split second to decide whether he should take it back or play it off. He makes the right decision, you think, or at least the one that makes you happy, when his palm sweeps up your neck, his fingers brushing the hair at the back of your head. Your chest burns with pleasure at his touch.

“You look really nice, tonight,” he says.

“Thank you,” you murmur, watching your own hand as you wrap your fingers around his elbow. You slide your hand up the warm plane of his forearm until you're clutching his wrist. “You look really nice, too.”

He rubs the curve that makes up the juncture of your neck. His hand is so warm you think it must be filled with nothing but hot, hot blood, rubbing your shoulder, his fingers spreading as they chase down the fall of your arm and then pull away.

“I’m glad you think so. Lucas vetoed the majority of my wardrobe this morning. Shithead said I dress like I’m trying too hard.”

He pulls open the passenger door. You’re busy feeling fond, your stomach awash with a thousand dancing butterflies.

“Are you getting in?” he asks.

You nod and smile and brush past him, lingering at his side for a half-second too long. You climb in. He shuts the door behind you.

He rounds the hood and jumps in next to you. You turn to him as he’s checking his rear view mirror, curious.

He sees your curiosity and is quick to grin, albeit nervously.

“What?” he asks.

“Do you always let 15 year olds dress you?” you ask.

Steve sighs morosely. “Not always.”

“Ah,” you say. You decide then and there that you’ll be sorely put out if he doesn’t kiss you goodnight after the movie.

He does.

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