#one time I also saw a bag of weed on a bus

[wewontbesleeping]

idk why I decided to open the little pouch that was on the ground by my bus stop but yeah I hope the person who dropped their meth isn’t too upset lol

[sl33py-day]

A good title

Tw: Stalking and talks about what to do with a dead body.

Teyvat university, a very popular college that is hard to get into. Luckily for you your aunt goes there and got you in somehow. Don’t know how but she did. You’ve been in Teyvat Uni for a week or two and noticed a few things.

The Mondstadt building was the green colored one. That was also surrounded by many flowers. But had many short people and a dorm leader who drinks……weed wine. The Liyue building was a gold like color that many others thought only the richest people could be there. But alas they had a dorm leader who doesn’t want to be dorm leader. The Inazuma building was purple but was know to be the strictest building of all the dorms. It always seems like they’re at war with the dorm leader. Sometimes people would walk in the building just to see people behind cardboard walls with nerf guns. The Sumeru one was really pretty it was green also but the only difference was the Sumeru building had more flowers then Mondstadt. They were known to have the smartest people in all of Teyvat University.

That’s what you noticed about the buildings the students however. All you can say about them is there’s a verity of different personalities. Like a short purple haired dog and a pair of twins that were separated but found each other on a bus. 

The twins were your friends along with a few others. You walked out of your dorm to see a very smiley Aether. As soon as you opened the door he jumped on you to hug you. 

“Good morning Aether. How are you doing?” You ask as he got off so you could grab you bag. He started to say how Lumine was getting on him about eating her donuts. You nodded as you walk down the dorm hallway. 

“When I told her it was probably Paimon she said Paimon doesn’t eat that kind of donuts!” He slightly yelled in annoyance about his adoptive sister paimon who’s 5 years old. You know paimon goes to the Teyvat daycare across the street and visits the twins every so often. Which is cute to you because she’s all happy when she sees you. 

As you two talked your phone went off with a loud sound. Taking the loud device out of your bag you saw that the caller ID has been the same one that has called you for sometime. You know you should’ve blocked the number but you kept forgetting. The weird thing about the calls is it happens every month.

“Hm? Who’s that?” Aether asks as he tries to see who it was. Quickly putting the phone back away so you could face Aether. You smiled softly at him which caused a small blush to appear on his face. 

“It’s nothing, just a spam call.” He just nodded. The two of you were getting close to the main building where the classes took place. While you two were walking someone called out to you. 

“Hey! Aether! Y/n!” A loud feminine voice called out causing you both to turn around. You saw your three friends. Venti, the dorm leader of Mondstadt, Kazuha, one of the people who doesn’t go to war in Inazuma, and albedo, who is another person from mondstadt. 

“Hello! You two ready for class?” You ask not noticing that Aether went deadly quiet. He stood behind you so you wouldn’t see his glare at Kazuha. After all of you were done talking it was class time. 

It was now lunch time and you had an hour to spar. Deciding that you were gonna go talk with Kazuha. Fun Fact! You had developed a crush on him. It’s a sad thing that you didn’t realize a few other peoples crush on you though. 

So you called Kazuha an told him if he wanted to hang out with you. He said yes and you were really happy. 

During the hangout with the quiet boy a few others joined in. Those being Venti, Aether, Xiao and Amber. While you were talking with the five you got a call from the same number from this morning. Suddenly you got an idea. 

“Hey guys,” you called out causing everyone to be quiet. “Do you want to traumatize a random scammer?” Everyone’s eyes sparkled with that idea but Xiao quickly asked “How are we going to do that?”

“Pretend where in a cult! The Demonic core cult! Imma call the scammer who’s been calling me while you guys pretend to have killed somebody.” After you said that they all agreed and with that you began to start the call. 

“Hello, thank you for calling the Demon core cult. Sadly you called at the wrong time.” You spoke with a gentle voice while the phone was on speaker. 

“Did you hide the body?” Aether asked Venti who was drinking some apple juice. “No, I thought Sam did.” He said while looking at Xiao. The teal haired man looked at him in shock. 

“Of course I didn’t hid the body! The corpse is still here!” Xiao yelled at Venti who shrugged in response. 

“We can ask Milly to do it.” Aether spoke up and every one looked at amber who was trying not to laugh. 

“Nah, Milly is taking a break for a while.” Venti spoke up still drink apple juice. 

“SO WHOS GONNA HIDE THE BODY! I KNEW SACRIFICING SOMEONE RIGHT NOW WAS A BAD IDEA!” Aether yelled out in fake anger. Kazuha decided to talk with a quiet voice. 

“Hey boss, what should we do with the dead body?” Kazuha asked you while everyone was screaming in the background about what to do with the fake dead body.

“Get Jermey he’s the one that does it anyways. So sorry but you called at the wrong time Good Bye!” With that you ended the call then the group became silent. Only to burst in laughter seconds later. Even Xiao was smiling a little. 

The caller though? He’s not one bit surprised he knew that would be something you would do. He’s been following you for a while now only getting the idea to call you after he got your number. 

He’s happy that you answered and not ignored the call. But very annoyed that there were other people with you and not you alone. 

Maybe he would get the courage to finally talk to you. You guys do have the same math class. 

[joshuasearing]

Friday 14th April 2023

Hey journal yesterday I started the day of by snoozing my alarm of loads of time as I just wanted to rest as I still felt tired. Anyways I had an alarm on so I could go to the gym before work. However I did not end up going before work. Before work I relaxed in bed for a couple hours, then I decided to get ready for work, by having a shower, washing my face, having breakfast, having a shave, getting changed and lastly brushing my teeth. I ended up walking to work and I ended up being about 5 minutes late. I have learnt to get to work on time whilst walking I have to leave my house with 25 minutes before my shift as it takes that long to walk their. Anyways once I was at work I was on instore for the first couple hours. Then I went on break after a couple hours for my break I had two mayo chickens, water and a mcflurry. On my break I spoke to some people that were also on break and I also wrote in my physical book journal. After my break I was put on instore and for a couple hours of my shift my intrusions got really bad and I was really struggling with them. I was struggling to work and concentrate properly due to them. Anyways for most of my shift I was on instore. One thing that did happen is someone had ordered three double cheeseburgers however they had no cheese in them and they ordered them with cheese. I honestly dont know how the kitchen made this massive mistake. Anyways I apologised to the guy and got all his burgers remade for him and completely fresh. Anyways he was good about it and was not rude at all which makes a change. Also on the last 45 minutes of my shift they put me on present to cover a break however the persons break went over the time where I am suppose to go home. Anyways I ended up finishing my shift 8 minutes late as I had to wait for the other person to finish there break. Anyways present went ok nothing really went wrong luckily. Anyways another thing I forgot to mention is at one point of my shift I was running parks however its started raining like awfully then it also started to hail. So I told one of them managers and they said we will stop parking things up as the weather is awful however we had to finish running the parks they did have. Anyways once I came back in my whole body was soaking and my clothes and hat was drenched. At one point I had hail all over my top. Anyways to make things worse after we did this a couple people did click and serves this is when they sit in their car and we give them their food. Anyways every customer that I gave their order apologised to me for having to go outside in this weather. Anyways once I gave their order the whole bag would be wet it was awful.

After work my mum picked me up and she went to couple shops before dropping me of to the gym. In the gym I did a pull session and it was good tbf, I felt way better after the gym as It made me feel better as I had not gone to the gym for the past few days. Anyways after the gym I walked home and it was pitch black. When walking home I saw this guy and he was walking incredibly fast. Then he stopped at this bus stop on the other side of the road. Anyways I did not think much of it until I saw him walking again beside me on the other side of the road and he was walking so fast. In the space of like two minutes he was nearly out of my eye sight as he was that fast. I think he was on some kind of drugs though as I smelt weed when he was nearish to me. I thought I was a fast walker then I saw him and it made me feel like a sloth. Anyways once I got home I started getting these calls from this random number, then I started getting calls from a no caller id, anyways after a while I decided to answer the call and they took a few seconds before making this weird fish noise then they would end the call. Then they carried on calling me again after this, and my dad answered it and they said my name and my dad did not catch the rest of what they said. After a while I facetimed my girlfriend then the calls started to lessen and I had suspision it her sister as her sister was with her. Anyways I started confronting them and they were keeping such a relaxed approach and were not laughing so I started to believe it may not be them. Then I also started to get messages with random things like penguins and random song lyrics were being sent to me. Anyways I asked to see her sisters phone and their was no messages to me, Anyways this confused me on who it was. Then they mentioned the colour of my door and I started to feel frightened. Anyways long story short it was actually her sister, I still do not know how she hided the messages but they looked gone. After this I wrote in my journal, then soon after that went to bed. Anyways speak to you later journal!

[daemosghost]

It's genuinely crazy how the high school I went to was just successfully able to just cover shit without the press questioning them cause why did I come across a news article that essentially says high school students were "allegedly" brutalized by cops in 2007 with mace and batons for trying to break up a fight and there were no further updates also I looked into the article for the lockdown we were under in 2018, its damn near bare bones

To preface, I redacted some stuff cause I know for a fact that they didn't like people talking about incidents whether it was recent or old and I have a feeling that they'd find some way to get this deleted lmao.

[ID: [REDACTED], AL (WTVM) - A [REDACTED] high school has been placed on lockdown after officers received an "unconfirmed report" of a firearm on campus.

[REDACTED] Sheriff [*] Jones has confirmed that a school resource officer at [REDACTED] High School received an unconfirmed report that a student may have brought a firearm to school.

Sheriff Jones says there has been no incident indicating an attempt to do harm.

Deputy sheriffs and resource officers are currently at the school attempting to confirm whether or not a firearm is on campus.

Sheriff Jones says that despite social media concern that other schools are involved, on [REDACTED] High school is involved in the situation. /End of ID]

Like why is there NOTHING here? Like I can literally confirm what happened pre-lockdown and also confirm there was 100% malicious intent behind this, while they were out here claiming that whoever had the weapon intended no harm. Here's what happened.

Passed 6:30 in the morning on the school bus, I sat in the wrong seat because sometimes the guy who sat in front of me on the bus changed where he sat and that would get my already muddled brain confused that early in the morning. That same morning, the guy who was a senior at the time that rarely every got on the bus in the morning, got on the bus that morning and was mad because I "took his seat". Later on when we got to the elementary school, we usually sat there until 7:15 because the kids who rode the bus couldn't be released until that time hit, the guy started talking about shit, and it switch to violence real quick. He said if he'd bring a gun on the bus, shoot me first, everyone in the back of the bus, the bus driver and the literal children. Later on that day it was lunch time, while eating, me and my friend literally witnessed two football players standing next to our table, "discreetly" dealing a bag of weed to the other. One of them left to go to their car and came back saying something about some stolen guns, and went to the principal and resource officer. Me and my friend watched them discuss something and a few other teachers had got up whispering about something after whatever was said being spread to them, and next thing we knew, lunch was abruptly cut short. Teachers kept rushing all of us to hurry up and get to class, we knew something was up then, but not exactly what. I got to my math class, she got to hers, I sat in my desk, my math teacher didn't know what happened yet and was confused at what was happening. She checked her email and then called the office, and also ushering us inside. Someone asked what happened and she said we were under lockdown and it was not a drill. After everyone got inside, blinds were closed, lights were shut off, some people went behind her desk, doors were locked and the window of the door was covered over. We were all just on our phones the whole time and still talking, then we saw one of the journalists go live on facebook standing outside the school, many concerned parents in the chat and also students complaining about being hungry and/or needing to piss. At some point we heard footsteps in the hall which made everyone dive under stuff and hide behind the teacher's desk, the teacher had still been at the door so she flattened herself against the wall hoping not to be seen like Shaq hiding behind a pole. It was nearly 3pm or was 3pm before we could leave the school, they had us leaving in chronological order like "if you're a car rider/or car rider whose last name starts with A to G, you can leave now" and that took a while. Some of the guns were found in a bathroom stall, but some were still missing. The guy that stole them had booked it into the woods hid out there for a while before going home and being found there. It was the same guy who threatened to kill me and all these other people on my bus earlier on the day of the lockdown. He ended up being expelled, yet this article doesn't say shit at all, not even a name released since he was literally an adult and had already failed senior year once already.

[one-sad-human]

•Pinky Promises• Steven Adler

Pairing: Steven Adler x Reader, Axl Rose x Sibling! Reader

Requested? Yup! By an anon

Theme: Angst(?) to fluff

Warnings: Language, sexual references but nothing explicit

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Fic 1 of 2! Hope you enjoy! Also, the makeout near the end gets sorta hot and it was pretty fun to write? Like I’m considering exploring into writing smutter pieces. I didn’t want to originally because I thought I’d cringe all the way through and hate the result but I might try it out in the near future. Nothing too crazy but it’s something for me to think about.

     You step off of the large bus, your combat boots hitting the ground as you adjust the bag slung over your shoulder. It's stuffed to the brim with whatever you threw in, you're surprised the zipper did burst.

     You take a deep breath of the LA air. It's hot and humid and despite the thick air pollution, you can breath easier than you did in Indiana.

     You grew up in Lafayette, Indiana with your older half-brother William. You were raised in the hellish house with your shared father, which you finally managed to escape.

     William left right at eighteen. He tried taking you with him, but you didn't want him to be charged with kidnapping and have the cops on his ass. Now, two years and your father's stolen wallet later, you're finally in the city of dreams.

     "Will!" You yell out, spotting your redheaded other half.

     "Y/N!" He mocks, catching your figure in a crushing hug. He's taller than you, so you have to stand on your tippy toes during the embrace. "Thank God you're alright."

     "I'm fine, I'm happy to finally see you again," you say, a huge grin on your face. "How's the band? Everything going well?"

     "Well enough," he says with a shrug, grabbing your heavy bag and slinging it around his shoulder. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the guys. You already know Izzy of course, but the rest of them."

     The walk to the 'hell house' as Will had called it is filled with catching up. He made sure to keep in contact with you, but the phone calls were always short. It felt nice to have a full length conversation in person with your brother again.

     "Welcome home," Will says, leading you into the house. You grimace when you catch a whiff of stale beer and weed.

     "You seriously live here? This place should be condemned," you say with disgust.

     "And then where would we live?" The oh-so familiar voice of Will's best friend meets your ears. You whip around and fly into his arms.

     "Jeffery! I missed you so much! You really should've tried calling, you ass!" You exclaim. Izzy rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless, patting your back during the hug.

     "Who's this?" Another man enters the living room— if that's what it should even be called. He's blonde, taller than you but shorter than the other two men in the room. He has kind eyes and the smile he has on his handsome face leaves you speechless.

     "U-uh, hi. I'm Y/N," you say after a moment of shameless gawking. If he noticed, he doesn't mention it.

     "Oh that's right! Axl talks a lot about you! I'm Steven," he says and bounds up to you, catching your hand in a shake. You don't question who the hell 'Axl' is, but you smile stupidly at him and bite your lip with a blush staining your face.

     "No," Will says, glaring at the cute blonde you've taking an immediate liking to. "Absolutely not."

     "William!" You squeak out, pinching his shoulder harsher. He yelps and swats your hand away. Will glares further at you as he ushers you up the creaky stairs to your room. "Nothing happened! And who the fuck is 'Axl'?"

     "I saw how you were looking at him! I'm not naive, Y/N. You were giving him the 'fuck me' eyes! And me, everyone calls me Axl here." You give him a look. "Except you, of course. You can call me Will."

     You don't give him another word as he leads you to your bedroom. He was the one who didn't have a roommate before, and he'd have to share with Slash now but he was determined to give you your privacy.

     "This is the only room with a working lock, use it. Especially when your changing! Three horny men in a house with one you isn't a good combo." You make a face and shake your head, but you can't really tell if he's being overprotective or if his band mates really are pigs.

     "Are you not including Izzy?"

     "Please, he's the only smart one besides me. He knows I'll rip him a new one." You laugh and give Will another hug.

     "I've really missed hanging out with you like this, and thank you for letting me stay here." He nods and rubs your back.

     "No problem, we have each other's backs, always." You nod and release your bother from the hug. "One rule though: no hooking up with the guys. One time thing or not, you don't know them like I do, I won't let you get hurt. So don't even try anything with Steven!"

     "Even if it's nothing sex?" Will levels you with a look that would make you sweat if you were anyone else. You sigh and roll your eyes. "Fine! I promise."

     "Pinky promise?" He asks, holding out his pinky finger. You shake your head but comply anyway, hooking your pinky on his.

     "Wow, bringing out the big guns, pinky promises," you tease.

     "Bitch," he mumbles. You gasp sarcastically.

     "Asshole!" You reply. William takes his leave with another slew of insults under his breath but none to be taken seriously and all with a smile. You shut your door after him and lay on your bed, content with how things are finally beginning to look up.

If you knew where you would be in just a few months of living with your brother and his band, you never would've agreed to the naive promise Will had forced on you. You think back to the day with a frown.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Steven asks, pecking your bare shoulder as he lays behind you on your bed. You both lay naked and damp with sweat, glowing from the moonlight streaming in the room.

"William," you say with a sigh.

"We just had sex and your thinking of your brother? Should I be worried about you?" Steven asks teasingly. You fight the smile growing on your face and lightly pinch the his arm tightly wrapped around you. He never fails to make you laugh.

"I just feel bad keeping this a secret from him." You turn around to be face to face with Steven. "It's been months of sneaking around. I'm always nervous we'll get caught together or I'll blurt it out to him."

"Then why don't we just tell him?"

"Do you want to die! Steven, honestly, do you have a death wish?"

"No, but—"

"Then we can't tell my brother we're together. He'll murder you, and then probably me one he finds out how long I've been lying to him," you say and move your head in the crook of Steven's neck.

"Then we can be together in the afterlife!" Steven folds his arms around you even tighter. "Seriously though, we can't lie to him forever. We've been together for six months already, surely he'll see how much we care about each other and not want to kill us."

"Yeah, maybe," you say halfheartedly and close your eyes, finally letting yourself fall asleep.

The next night, Guns has a gig at the Whiskey A-Go Go. The ritual goes like it has been, they play the gig, you wait for Will to get drunk, and you and Steven sneak out to the back of the club to make out and maybe get felt up a bit before returning like nothing happened.

It isn't different this time. Steven's hands leave your skin ablaze as he lets them wander down your sides and up your thighs. His lips don't leave yours, even as he squeezes your ass and you let out a moan. He grins on your mouth and presses his pelvis up to your stomach.

His mouth leaves yours to press feather light kisses to your cheek before trailing down your jaw and onto your neck, where he sucks nips at. You have to press a hand to your mouth to stay quiet.

"Don't leave marks," you remind him through batted breath.

"I won't," he reassures and silences you with a chaste kiss to your swollen lips before returning his attack on your neck.

You hear footsteps fast approaching, but as quickly as you hear them, Steven is ripped away from you. He's slammed into the brick wall next to you harshly and groans. You jump away and gasp.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" William asks, his voice lower than usual. His green eyes dark and downright scary.

"Will! Let him go, come on. Stop fucking around, you didn't have to slam him into a wall," you say, but your shaky voice falls on deaf ears as Will doesn't move. Your hands grasp at his arm and try to yank him away from Steven, but he's stronger and taller than you and doesn't budge, he just keeps his eyes focused on Steven.

"Nothing!" He squeaks out. Even in the dark, his kiss bruised lips and flushed red face is obvious.

"'Nothing?' That's why you were ten seconds away from fucking Y/N?" Will asks.

"William stop it! You're scaring me! Leave him alone!" You push him again and this time, he relents. Will paces and runs his hand through his red locks while you rush to make sure Steven is ok.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Steven mutters and presses a kiss to your brow to comfort you, sending you a smile when he pulls away. He keeps his hands on your arms and rubs circles with his thumbs.

"How long has this been going on?" Will asks, crossing his arms as he finally stops his pacing.

"Six months..." Steven says nervously. William scoffs and shakes his head. "But it isn't just fucking around! I love them, Ax. Really."

You smile bashfully, biting your lip to try and contain it. You knew you felt strongly for Steven and that he returned the feelings, but you haven't outright said you loved each other— until know of course.

Will stays silent for a few beats, staring contemplative at Steven. He finally sighs, bring a hand up to rub his temples like he has a building headache.

"Yeah? And you love him, Y/N?" He asks. You nod, reaching out to grab Steven's hand. Steven lets a grin creep on to his face. "Then I guess I can't stop you. But if you ever break their heart, I'll fucking gut you, Adler."

If Will makes Steven nervous, he doesn't show it. He gives him a salute with his puppy dog like smile before sticking out his pinky.

"I promise I'll never hurt Y/N purposely, ever." Will rolls his eyes, the irony makes him nearly groan aloud. He sucks it up anyway when he sees your hopeful expression, hooking his pinky onto Steven's.

"Don't make me regret this, Steven," Will grumbles before leaving and walking back into the crowded club. Steven lets out an exhilarated laugh and kisses you, hard.

"Told you he wouldn't kill me!" Steven exclaims, making you laugh out of surprise.

"And we don't have to sneak around anymore!" Steven kisses you again, and again and again until you're breathless.

"I'm so in love with you," he mumbles between his attack on your lips. You smile, tangling your hands in his aqua-net filled hair.

"As I am with you."

[nctzenluvies]

HIS PARTY

𝖏𝖊𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖏𝖆𝖊𝖍𝖞𝖚𝖓 𝖝 𝖋. 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘 : 1.7k

𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖚𝖙 , 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 , 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 , 𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖉 , 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙 , 𝖉𝖊𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 , 𝖗𝖆𝖜 𝖘𝖊𝖝

~~~~~~~~~~

you were walking outside of the school and of course, it was a friday, meaning everyone was getting their invites to the popular kids "frat party". all you knew about the parties, is that they consisted of drinking, weed, and apparently drugs too. you genuinely didnt expect for anyone invite you.

"hey, y/n!" someone said behind you.

"hi?"

"remember? its me, cay!"

"oh yeah! hi! whats up?"

"well, i got permission to invite some people to this weekends party, and we had a few extra slots so, i thought to invite you!"

"oh? sure, i can go.. but when is it?"

"tomorrow night, i can text you the address, your number is still the same right?"

"yeah, it is. thanks so much!"

"of course, do you need a ride?"

"no thanks, ill have my friend drop me off."

cay walked away and went to the back of the school as you got into the bus and sat next to one of your friends, that happened to also be invited to tomorrows party.

after about 10 minutes, the bus had finally made it to you and your friends neighborhood. you got off the bus, said your goodbyes to your friend and walked home. once you got home, you went up to your room and unpacked your things.

"dude, i cant believe we both got invited to that tomorrow." your friend said on the phone.

"i know! should we make outfits?"

"uh.. yess?!"

the two of you made outfits and got opinions from one another. your friend had to hang up because their mom called them, so you just decided to make a list of stuff you needed to bring.

"gum... chapstick, tissues? do i need that?"

you threw what you could pack now into your bag, and got pajamas to go take a shower.

you took a quick shower, and went down to your kitchen to make food. you made something simple with what you had in your fridge. after eating, you watched netflix for an hour or two, then went to your room to sleep.

~~~~~

𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓅.. 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓅.. 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓅..

your alarm went off, it was 10 in the morning. you got up, and got ready in a comfy outfit for the day. you had planned to spend a few hours with your cousins at the mall, then go home and get ready for the party.

your cousin picked you up, you guys went do the mall, got coffees, ate food, and shopped around for 3 hours.

your friend was at a store nearby, so she went to come pick you up.

"hey! did you have fun?" she asked.

"yeah, i got a bunch of stuff haha."

"thats good! you could use something for tonight!"

"true, is that what youre wearing tonight?"

"no, i just went to the shop to get groceries, so of course not."

"thats what i thought."

you two blasted music on the way back to her house. you got there, helped he put the groceries away, and walked back to your house. you just chilled for about an hour before getting ready.

you hopped out of the shower, and called your friend.

"hey, y/n. whats up?" cay answered.

"nothing, i just wanted to ask if there was a specific timing we needed to be there?"

"nope, you just have to be there by nine."

"oh alright. see ya!"

you dried you hair, and got a cute dress your cousin had bought you at the mall. you were packing a bag and your best friend called you.

"hey y/bsf/n, why you callin me?"

"nothing, i just wanted to let you know im leaving soon. so get your bag ready."

"will do."

you finished packing, got a water bottle, went to the bathroom, and walked out to see y/bsf/n waiting in her car out-front of your house.

"hey bitch! get in, lets go!"

the two of you headed out, screaming about each others outfits.

you pulled into a huge driveway leading up to a mansion. of course, the popular kids cars were pulling in as you parked.

"oh hey y/n!" cay said behind you.

"hey!"

"well, welcome i guess? let me show you around."

he showed you around his friends house, as someone caught your eye.

you pointed towards some really cute guy in the corner, "hey cay, who is that?"

"oh him? thats jaehyun, hes one of my best friends."

"ok, thanks."

"no problem.

you and your friend walked away to get a drink from the bar they had.

"girllll you have good eyes." your friend teased.

"what do you mean?"

"that jaehyun dude was cute."

"i know right."

"you should go talk to him! your hot, hes hot, perfect relationship!"

"fine, i will. be right back."

"ok, ill be over here!"

you walked over to the boy you had been looking at for a bit and said hi.

"hey, thought i just let you know i think your hot." you winked, walking away.

he twirled you back around, "well, i would say those feelings are mutual then."

"oh? show me then."

"with pleasure."

he pulled you upstairs to a room somewhere in the back of the house, and locked the door behind him.

it was dark in the room, so you couldnt exactly see him, but when he turned the lights up, he was already completely naked. he had the best abs youd seen in a while. man did you get the worst butterflies. he got on top of you, and tore your clothes.

"your a little slut, arent you."

"maybe."

he snickered, kissing your jawline, going down to your stomach. he threw your legs to the side, kissing the inside of your thighs. he threw your legs on his shoulder, giving you kitten licks, teasing you. jaehyun let go of your legs to say something.

"i never got your name, sweetheart."

"y/n."

"y/n?"

"yup."

"cute."

he continued his teasing, but gave you zero warning that he was going to actually eat you out.

"jaehyun!"

"mhm?" he said, sending a wave of vibrations through your body, causing you to almost moan.

after a bit, he let go of your pussy, "moan loader baby." so of course, you did. the more noise you made, the more he smirked probably thinking you couldnt feel it. at some point he started using his tongue way more aggressively, so you grabbed his head pushing him deeper in your folds.

he suddenly let go, looking straight in your eyes.

"you cant cum yet. your turn."

he got to the side of the bed, pulled you closer to him, and shoved his dick straight in your mouth. beside gagging at first, you did your job perfectly by how he was reacting.

he pushed you down away from him, and got back on top of you.

"youre going to listen to daddy, right?"

you nodded.

"you will stay completely silent until i say so."

he lined his cock up with your core and slammed straight in you, filling you up. he immediately went in and out of you, leading to you making a bunch of noise. he put a hand around your neck to shut you up.

"you stay quiet, remember?"

you nodded, trying your best to stay quiet. there was a bunch of people coming up the stairs, probably looking for jaehyun.

"jaehyun?" one of his friends yelled from the end of the hallway.

what sounded like two people came up to the door, stopped and listened. you held your breath, but jaehyun on the other hand just continued.

"oh shit, hes blowing someones back out."

"yeah, already? the party just started. i wonder who it is." your friend cay said.

"dude. lets go ask around and see who were missing."

"yeah."

𝑜𝒽 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉 , you thought to yourself. jay was going to figure out that your were being gut-fucked by his best friend, let alone, one of the most popular people in the building.

luckily as soon as your best friend heard people we're asking around, she texted you saying she'd be at the back of the house so she wouldn't get found out.

"oh shit!" you screamed.

the two of you reached your highs about the same time. all you felt was this warm liquid filling you up like crazy. he pulled out, picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. luckily he had brought you to bedroom that had a bathroom.

he cleaned you up first, cleaned himself up, and got you both dressed. jaehyun dragged you out of the bedroom, telling you to go to the back of the house after seeing your phone text message.

you ran down stairs, out the front door and saw your friend right on the side of the house.

"hey!" she yelled

"hi."

"so, how was it?"

"good, hes so hot oh my god."

"well, look who it is."

"hello, im jaehyun, y/n's new boyfriend."

you looked at him, confused.

"wait, wait, we never agreed to that." you sighed.

"we did now."

"ok, ill leave you guys alone, good bye." your friend ran back into the house.

"jaehyun, really?"

"what."

"ive known you for like fifteen minutes."

"a good fifteen minutes." he winked.

"jaehyun!"

you turned around to see cay yelling for jaehyun.

"hi?"

"im going to go over there." you whispered, pointing to the fence of the property.

"well, who was it?"

"who was what?"

"ya know, the chick you had in the room." cay said.

"oh, that? her." he pointed to you, causing you to look up.

"fucking seriously? ive been friends with her for a while and she never has hooked up with someone like you man."

"well i guess you can say hook up if you want."

"huh?"

jaehyun signaled you to come back over.

he wrapped his hand around your waist, "this is my girlfriend."

"uh, what? im so confused. havent you known each other for like 30 minutes?"

"yeah, but shes hot."

"alright, ive never seen that happen."

cay walked away, leaving the two of you to walk in together. you and jaehyun just drank all night, and went back to your house, eating and watching movies.

𝔞/𝔫: 𝔦 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔦𝔪 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔬 𝔦 𝔴𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 :)

[slashscowboyboots]

The Stars Are a Part Of Us: The Brains Of This Outfit

This my “Almost Famous” inspired groupie fic, with appearances by @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands (Celestia/Alessia), @sexcoffeeandrockandroll (Absinthe/Amy) and @no-stone-no-bone (Velvet), plus yours truly as Karen.  This is a pretty dark fic, with VERY mature themes and smut.  Cross-posted on AO3

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket ​ @no-stone-no-bone ​ @sexcoffeeandrockandroll @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands ​ @smokeandmirrorz ​ @sodalitefully ​ @roger-taylors-car ​ @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 ​ @shawolat​ ​@80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence.  18+ ONLY

1987

This must be her.

Izzy sat up straighter, watching as a short blonde shuffled toward the back of the bus, a huge bag on her shoulder and carrying a pillow in her arms.  She didn’t notice him sitting in the next to the last seat, and she flopped down on the one behind him, setting down her pillow and leaning against it, then rifling through her purse till she found a book.

Bella Donna. The most beautiful one of all.  She certainly was pretty, he thought, with her long blonde waves and huge blue eyes.  She dressed like Stevie Nicks’ runaway progeny too, all ruffles and lace and faded jeans, although instead of Stevie’s platforms she wore a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots.  

I’ve never seen a groupie play hard to get, he chuckled to himself.  She must be something else.  Watching her turn a page, he noticed her full lips pursing as she read the text.  He couldn’t make out what the title was, but he could see a long-haired bare-chested hunk and a bosomy babe spilling out of her bodice in a passionate clinch on the cover.�� 

Oh, shit, she’s reading romance novels.  Probably wants me to seduce her.

 Izzy didn’t think he was quite up to that.  

87 had been rough on him so far.  Getting busted on a possessions charge (thankfully, it hadn’t included a “with an intent to sell,” although that had been exactly his intention), sentenced to rehab and now on probation, with orders he continue to be piss tested on the road.

It was a miracle he was allowed to leave the country, but his lawyer (who was far too good to be in his pay scale, Izzy noted) argued that his client’s ability to earn a living shouldn’t be hampered by his arrest.  (The fact that his paying profession had led to his arrest wasn’t lost on him either.)  To his amazement, the judge had agreed, and Geffen, desperate to recoup their investment and make a little scratch before the band killed themselves, sent them with The Cult on a tour of Canadian hockey rinks.  Woo hoo.  

Just before the tour started, he and Niv were approached in a shitty dive by a curvy brunette introducing herself as Absinthe and claiming she was one of the Road Wives.  

“Heard of us?” she asked, coyly batting her eyelashes.

Izzy took a sip from his Coke and nodded.  Yes, he’d heard of all of them.  The Flying Garter Girls, the GTO’s, the Road Wives.  All conglomerates of groupies who traveled with bands and made life on the road even more colorful and chaotic.

“Of course you have.  It’s an honor to travel with the Wives.”

Izzy rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke from his nose.  “And you’ve selected us, I suppose.”

Absinthe smiled, the contrast of her crimson pout with her white teeth and skin visible even in the dim light.  “We have.  Our leader Velvet has chosen Axl as her traveling companion.” 

Niven smirked, and Izzy raised his eyebrows.  “Has this already been decided?” he said quietly.

Those red lips formed a tight line.  “No.  Axl said to take this up with you.  ‘Izzy has the final word,’ he said.”

He took another drag, and she leaped at the opportunity to speak.  “There’s uhh, four of us, and Celestia has picked Slash, and I,” she smiled, and Izzy swore he saw devil horns poke out of her dark hair, “I settle down with no man, but I’ve spent time with your drummer and won’t mind repeating that experience.”

He flicked his ash from his cigarette, bored disinterest on his unsmiling face.  “And Duff is married.”

She swallowed, then nodded.  “Yes, Duff is engaged, and has cordially informed us he will not require our services.  Shame, there’s a tree I’d like to climb again and again.”

Izzy lit a new cigarette with the end of the first one and ground the butt out, then leaned forward on the table and said, “Shame, because I say no to the whole shooting match.”

The whites of her black-lined eyes became enormous.  “Wait, you haven’t heard who’s with you.”

“I don’t care who’s with me,” he said, in a quiet but firm voice.  “I’m on fucking probation and I don’t need any more headaches.  And I damn sure don’t need four chicks we have to babysit.”

“Hear her out,” Niven snickered.  “I gotta hear about the whore that wants you.”

Absinthe licked the front of her teeth.  “Bella Donna.  The most beautiful one of all,” she said softly.

Izzy shook his head.  “Nope.  I’m not traveling with anyone fucked up or underage.”

“She’s 21.  And she blows a gasket over drugs.”

Niven elbowed Izzy.  “She sounds right up your alley, mate.”

Izzy shifted in his seat, rolling the end of his cigarette in the ashtray as he chewed the inside of his cheek.  

“She and I went to school together, and we’re older than the other girls.  We keep them in line.  They will not cause you any problems on the road.  You have my word.”

Izzy slid his eyes to Alan, who shrugged.  “Canada’s cold, Izz.”

Absinthe smiled.  

He still wasn’t convinced.  “She doesn’t use?  Cause I’ve never heard of a groupie who didn’t.”

She shook her head.  “Reads us the riot act if we do.  She smokes weed every now and then, but I don’t even think she’s done that in the last six months.”  She batted her eyes, sensing his interest.  “Drinks the occasional beer, but she’s normally our DD.”

Izzy sighed, then downed the last of his Coke.  “All right.  One fuckup, and I don’t care what it is, if one of you broads even breaks a nail, your asses are heading home.  Put that in the tour budget Niv, four bus tickets back to LA if any of them get the hiccups.”  He stood up.  “I’m not joking.”

No, a seduction was not something he was up to.  Maybe a quick fuck when the bus got dark, if she loosened up a little.  Normally, groupies sucked you off as a way of saying hello, but this one had tromped on past him and buried her nose in a book.

Honey, is that any way to welcome your man?

He leaned over the bus seat, carefully studying her.  She wore a moonstone ring on one hand, a crystal ball set in a pair of hands ring on the other one, and gigantic sparkly hoop earrings.  He didn’t especially understand this Stevie Nicks fixation, but if memory served, she’d fucked her way through Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles, so as long as Rhiannon here didn’t wear a chastity belt, it was fine by him.

He tilted his head and asked, “Aren’t you going to say hi?”

Her eyes darted up from her page, then back down.  “Hi.”

He had another great view of the top of her head.  “Is this any way to act?”

She turned a page, her eyes not leaving her book.  “I wasn’t aware I was a bother.”

Since Izzy’s arrest, patience was not something he had large reserves of.  “Are you really going to do this?” he snapped.

Her eyes met his then, and he had a second to register how long her eyelashes were before he realized how irritated she was.  “Do WHAT, may I ask?” she growled, her voice hard.

Izzy was thrown, but he shrugged it off.  Maybe this is foreplay to her.  “Why aren’t you in my lap right now?  Daddy’s had a rough day.”

She went completely, utterly still, then asked, “What?”

A little voice in his head (something he heard much more frequently now that he was sober) told him something was off, but he blurted, “You’re my whore and I shouldn’t have to beg you to blow me.”

He watched her cheeks flush, then the sides of her neck, and he belatedly realized that this was someone you didn’t piss off.  To his relief, she didn’t reach into her purse, but instead slammed her book shut and gritted, “Who told you I was your whore?”

“Well, I see you two have met,” Absinthe said, smiling as she sat down next to her.

“She did,” Izzy said, tipping his chin up, not taking his eyes off the blonde.

“Amy Louise, do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”  She glanced up at Izzy.  “Are you telling people I’m ‘Bella Donna the wonder groupie’ again?”  Closing her eyes, she muttered, “Because you know how much I hate that.”

“Ahh,” Absinthe answered, “well, possibly.   But you really should get to know Izzy.”

Her eyes darted back to him.  “I’m good,” she snapped.  “I think I know all I need to know.”

“What’s the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.

“It means what you think it means.”  She turned to Absinthe.  “You are going to stop calling me ‘Bella Donna’ or I am going to make you stop.  You got that?”

“Yes.”  Shoulders slumping, Absinthe stood up and walked back to the front of the bus.

Izzy watched as the blonde laid her forehead on her palm, then reached into her bag and lit a cigarette with trembling hands.  She looked up at him.  “Did you get that, Hoss?” she said in a tired voice.  “I’m not ‘Bella Donna,’ and I’m definitely not your whore.”

He nodded, then a small voice said, “Sissy?  Is that my Sissy?” A younger girl with brown hair sat down next to her, and she immediately hugged her, then laid her head on her shoulder.

“I love you, Sis,” the younger girl said.

“I love you, too, Celly Belly.”

“Who’s that?”

“That’s Izzy.”

“Hi, Izzy, I’m Celestia.”

“Hi.”

“Izzy, this is my sister, Karen.”

“We’ve met,” Karen said icily.

“Why don’t you like him?  He’s cute.”

Karen looked at her sister in horror.  “He’s a drug dealer.”

“Former,” Izzy said.

“And a junkie.”

“Also former.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Nope, she left me when I went to rehab.  For another guitarist with better drugs.”

“He’s cute.  You should bang him.”

“Celestia.  That’s not why you sleep with people.”

“Yes, it is,” Celestia and Izzy said in unison.

Karen rolled her eyes.  “That’s not why I sleep with people.”

“Have you talked to Steve?” Celestia asked.

Karen breathed out a sigh.  “No, not since he took up with that model.  Catriona.”

“Steve is an idiot,” Celestia said, lighting up a cigarette.  “I heard their record is multi platinum.”

“Yeah, they brought Mutt back.”  Karen said.  “When you sell that many records, that’s when the models show up.”

“Yeah.”  Celestia blew out a plume of smoke.  “Did you bring your hat?”

Karen crossed her arms and slumped in her seat.  “Yeah.”

 “Yay!”  Celestia squeezed her.  “ I know you don’t want to be ‘Bella Donna’ anymore, but I love it when you are.”  She looked up at Izzy, who was still watching them.  “I bet he could make you forget Steve.”

“I’m good.”  Karen tightened her arms and scowled.

“Sissy, please be nice to Izzy.”

“Why?”

“Because I really like Slash.  And Izzy will make us go home if we don’t behave.”

Karen looked at Izzy, then Celestia.  “You really want to stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Celestia?” a voice called.  “Baby, where are you?”

Celestia said, “I gotta go.  I love you, Sis.”

“Here,” Karen said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a handful of condoms.  “Don’t fuck him without one.  I don’t want any more doctor’s visits.”

Celestia tucked them inside her waistband of her microshorts, then kissed Karen’s cheek.  “I’m not going to get in trouble again, I promise.”  As she stood up, she smiled at Izzy, then squealed, “Slashy!”

Izzy lit a cigarette and smirked at Karen.  “Well, that was just absolutely fucking touching, but you twats are hitting the pavement the first stop we make.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh, yes, you are.”

Karen narrowed her eyes.  “That girl is 16.  Velvet is 17.  And you’re planning to take them into another country to have sex with them, which the last time I looked was a criminal act.”

“Not if we dump your asses out before we hit the border.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Well, you’re not.  I’m on probation and I don’t need this bullshit.”

“Yes, let’s talk about that.  You do realize any of these girls, myself included, though I wouldn’t, can at any time say, ‘He raped me?’   ‘He hit me?’  Now for anyone else in this band, that would be any given Tuesday, but for you?  You have a lot more to lose.”

Izzy’s eyes widened.  

“I mean, Absinthe told you I was your whore, and obviously that’s not true.  We’re liable to say just anything.”

He shifted in his seat, feeling a chill run down his back.

“Where are we stopping anyway?  McDonald’s?  There’s always a cop there with nothing to do.  Maybe he’ll have time for a damsel in distress.”

Izzy swallowed.  “What do you want?” he gritted, knowing she had the upper hand.

“You can show us ‘twats’ a little respect, for starters.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he spat.  “Your ass is chapped because I was a dealer.”

“Hoss, don’t make me play my ace.  Cause I have four of them, and I ain’t on probation.”

He ground his molars together.  “What else?”

“We stay, and you provide us with basic human necessities.  A place to sleep, food, and shelter.”

“And?”

“Take us backstage.”

“That’s a given.”

She shrugged.

“Then what?”

“Then your band runs around with empty balls and everyone is happy happy happy.  ‘Cept you, you’re on your own with that.”  She crossed her arms.  “And I make sure no one is a headache.  You’ll never know we’re here.”

“Can I believe you?”

She directly met his gaze.  “Yes.”

“How do I know that?”

“I’m not a liar.  I’ve been honest about everything so far.”

Why didn’t I meet you first?  It would’ve saved a shitload of time.  “Why are you here?” he snapped.

“Because your band has a body count, Stradlin.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Todd Crew.  Slash shot him up, did he not?”

Izzy took a deep breath.  “He says he didn’t.”

“Do you believe that?”

“What I believe is none of your fucking business.”

“I heard he did, and Todd died in his arms.”

Izzy lit a cigarette and looked away.  “We, ah, we were all gutted when he died.”

“Well, my baby sister is sleeping with Slash, and I want to make sure that is an isolated incident.”

Izzy took a drag.  “It is.  None of us are on smack anymore.  Slash just drinks now, and I can’t do fucking anything.”

Karen met his eyes.  “You’ll forgive me if I’m not entirely swayed by your testimony.”

He shrugged.  Even though she was judgmental and unforgiving, he could see where she was coming from.  If he had a sister, he’d shit himself if she took up with Slash.  Or any of them.

She must be the brains of this outfit.  She hates us all.

Karen shot him one final filthy look, then dug a Walkman out of her purse and closed her eyes, resolutely shutting him out.

Izzy sighed, then his eyes landed a few seats ahead of him.  Duff had pledged undying fidelity to his fiancee and planned on recreationally drinking instead of fucking, and had already passed out cold, snoring loudly against the window.

I don’t have that option, Izzy bitterly thought.  It wasn’t even that he wanted to drink or raise hell anymore.  His rehab stint had opened his eyes to how close he’d skated to the edge, and just when he felt like he’d finally made it back to the land of the living, Todd had fallen into the abyss.

There’d also been the unspoken question, Is Slash going to be charged with murder?  The band had closed ranks and called all the lawyers, and in the end, no one was indicted.  Guns was already on thin ice for Axl and Slash’s separate arrests for statutory rape, and Izzy’s incarceration was the final straw.  The brass at Geffen was adamant: One more strike, boys, and your asses are done.

He titled his chin up and blew out a plume of smoke.  He hadn’t had many plans for this tour, but he had expected to spend it in the arms of a submissive woman.  Sex hadn’t been forbidden by the terms of his probation, not yet anyway, and he’d been, well, enchanted by the idea of a babe who didn’t get fucked up and yet was enthusiastic to do his bidding in the sack.  He could slap himself now for believing such a creature even existed.

He stole a glance at Karen, whose head had slumped forward.  Even in her sleep, she looked weary, beautiful but worn out.  He realized now, if Absinthe’s description was right, she was just a nice girl looking after her sister, and Celestia’s taste in men must be exhausting if Slash was any indication.  Izzy felt his ears growing hot as he thought about how aggressively he’d approached her, even though he’d been promised she was a sure thing.  Demanding she immediately hop on his dick wasn’t what he considered finesse.

Fuck, how am I going to get laid now?  That thought was punctuated by a hushed moan from Slash, and Izzy wanted to pound his head against the seat in front of him.  He’d just have to hope that somehow Canadian groupies were very willing yet went to church frequently.

Damn, woman, you’re sure you won’t change your mind about me?  I can be romantic if you want me to.

Can’t do much about me being a dealer though.  That ship already sailed.

He heard Karen stirring behind him, and turned to watch her stretch out and cover herself with a blanket.  Since he expected to be wrapped in her arms, Izzy had packed away his own covers, so he buttoned his denim jacket and crossed his arms, sleep mercifully arriving quickly.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

12. Granny Out of Control a.k.a. headless chickens, Gene Simmons’ girlfriend and Rapunzel

In the previous chapters: Judy and Stone act after their embarrassing encounter in the shower as if it hadn’t even happened; they implicitly agree on not telling Mike that his one-night stand was just the consequence of Judy’s revenge-fueled rumors about Stone’s sexual preferences. Ed loses his voice so the show has to be canceled, Jeff offers to give guitar lessons to Judy instead in his spare time. Granny buys a metal magazine to learn more about Seattle-based rock bands; the picture of Pearl Jam makes her think the perfect match for Judy isn’t Jeff but Stone. Krisha picks Effie up in the city to tell her that Kelly Curtis and Susan Silver have plans with her as a photographer; she also gives her the list of codenames the band and crew members use at hotels. Effie also joins her when she feeds Stone’s unsociable cat, Red who is incompatible with all girls who try to approach him.

 „I don’t know, man… Are you sure you saw them?”

“Don’t piss me off, Schmitty, of course I’m sure. I know whom and what I saw.” I mumble as I put the flashlight back between my teeth. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Not only makes he me do this stupid act, he even drives me crazy with this weak-minded questioning in the meantime. The guy obviously watches too much TV. Especially detective shows about drug cartels.

“But let’s go over it again. Maybe you were wrong or misunderstood the situation or…”

I sigh, and take the flashlight out of my mouth only to direct the blinding ray of light in his face.

“Okay, but this is the last time. And I’m only willing to tell it again because I have nothing better to do and because technically, I can’t do anything else until we finish this. Open the bag and hold it.”

“Yes sir... so you went having a shower…”

“Not that it matters if I went showering or shitting but yes, I went to the restroom.”

“And you opened the door…” he goes on with the storytelling like a small child who already knows his favorite bedtime story by heart.

“And there were they, standing at the sinks…”

“Stop. Are you sure it was them?”

“Of course I am, I could recognize Judy and Stone from miles!”

“Are you 100 % sure?”

“No, I’m only 99 % sure because there’s a very small chance that they both have doppelgangers right in this town but let’s say I’m very likely to have seen them.” I confirm while I start portioning the green leaves into the plastic bag Schmitty is holding.

“And they were…”

“…basically naked.”

“Basically?” he asks like he’d never heard the word before.

“Yes, basically.”

“How do you mean “basically”?”

“What? I’m fucking around here with sharing my weed with you and you’re already high? Unbelievable…”

“No-no-no, seriously, man, you didn’t say “naked”, you said “basically naked”. Define the difference. It’s important.” he flails fussily.

“Stop shaking the bag, it’s difficult enough to do this only with one hand. So, uh, they weren’t completely naked, they both were wearing a towel…”

“The same towel or…?”

“Hah, interesting idea, but no, they both had their own towel on. But I assume none of them was wearing any underwear…”

“That’d be normal, I mean, after showering… but that’s the weakest point in your theory, them having a shower at the same time… it sounds so unreal.”

“Yeah, I thought the same until I found the only logical reason.”

“What? That you only dreamed the whole thing? Or that it was just an intense trip due to the shrooms Mike gave you?”

“I know it sounds unbelievable but at this point, I’m pretty much convinced they did it on purpose.” I close the bag and throw it at Schmitty who hides it immediately in the inner pocket of his jacket and pats himself on the chest satisfied.

“Thanks. But I can’t follow your thinking, Scully. Why’d they secretly meet in the shower?”

“I don’t want to shock you but… I think they had sex right before. I almost entered but then I glanced them and they were almost naked, both giggling and Judy was groping Stone and… I backed out, I was so surprised, I didn’t even know what to do…”

“But they hate each other.” Schmitty protests shaking his head.

“And? Since when can’t people who hate each other have sex with each other?”

“Man, this is too much to me, Stone has Amber at home, Judy is like a nun, they can’t stand each other so obviously, they have sex??? Bullshit, that’s all I can say. I don’t know what you saw but it definitely couldn’t be a post-coital scene.”

“Look, I don’t understand the exact reasons either but…”

“I’ve always been told that as soon as we start touring, girls will try to drag me in the tour bus all the time but I imagined it somehow different…”

We both freeze at the hearing of Stone’s smug giggling and our surprise only grows when we recognize the voice that belongs to his companion.

“Sorry for ruining your wet rock star dreams but it’s impossible here to talk to someone face-to-face, even the walls have ears in this crew.”

Schmitty and I exchange a meaningful look and to his nod, I turn the flashlight on the lowest level. Walls might not have ears here but this bunk bed curtain we’re hiding behind definitely does. Even four, to be exact.

“So what’s the purpose of this conspired, hyper-secret meeting, Camden? I’m hungry so let’s get over with this as fast as possible!”

Hungry, yeah, I can imagine. So you prefer quickies, Stoney?

“I just wanted to talk about yesterday.”

Schmitty stares at me with popped eyes, even his jaws drop of shock.

“Ha. So you were thinking about it?”

“Yes but not the way you think. I’m not gonna tell you tirades about how much I regretted it or stuff because I didn’t. I only want to ask if you talked to Scully about it?”

Schmitty grabs my forearm, digging his nails into it, his other hand is shaking uncontrollably.

“No and I don’t know why I should force it, I mean it happened, it’s embarrassing enough for both of us so let’s draw a veil over it.”

“It’s embarrassing for both of us? Do you really think I give a damn about that? I mean, okay, I lost control, which doesn’t happens really often to me but who cares, I can handle the consequences. You feeling embarrassed, now that’s the last thing I care about. But have you already thought about the feelings of your friend at least for one single second?”

We both furrow our eyebrows and her words probably found their marks since Stone doesn’t answer, which makes Judy go on with the pep talk.

“Okay, neither of us is going to say a word since we both have selfish interest in keeping it in secret but if Scully shoots his mouth off and he finds out about what happened… just think into it, it’d ruin his self-esteem. I mean, it’s inevitable that it turns out later but the best strategy is discretion. Now, it’d be too fresh for him, let’s wait until he forgets about this little… intermezzo.”

Schmitty covers his still opened mouth in complete horror and even I start feeling uncomfortable now that my intuition is basically confirmed.

“So, would you finally promise to talk to Scully?”

“Dunno… I’ll consider it.”

“Jesus Christ, Gossard, would it hurt not to piss me off once in a lifetime?”

“To answer your question, yes, it would but this time it’s not about you, Miss Fussy. I was just thinking that we should let it slide since after all, it’s not as a big deal as you think.”

You fuck her and then try to ditch her? Come on Stone, I thought you were better than this.

“I mean, you make such a fuss but I don’t think Scully would let it slip, he’s probably already forgotten about the whole scene. And if I came up with it, he’d just start overthinking it; when he knows he has to shut his mouth, he becomes gossipy all the more.”

Ha, thanks Stoney but just for the record, I don’t gossip, I just process things by discussing them with other people, see also at “coping mechanisms”…

“It’s you who’s overthinking it. Just stop protesting and do what I ask you. I even use the word “please”.”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll see what I can do, just leave me finally alone with this. Can I ask you something too?”

“It depends…”

“Could we stay here for ten… fifteen minutes? You know, it’s about my reputation…”

“Fuck off, Gossard!!!”

We both exhale with a deep sigh when we hear them leaving the bus.

“Holy. Shit.”

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. Dude, you were right!”

“Of course I was right, I always am, you just never believe me.“

“But… damn… I didn’t see that coming… Gahhh.” Schmitty facepalms, rubbing his forehead worried.

“I’m surprised, though, I thought they didn’t notice me.”

“Apparently, they did. Jesus, I doubt there’s something serious between them but now that I heard it with my own ears, it all makes sense! They hook up, they are both embarrassed since they are enemies, plus the Amber-factor… and poor Jeff, he has a massive crush on Judy and she knows it, maybe she tries to have two irons in the fire… So she convinced him to keep the fling in secret not to ruin her chances at Jeff… She looks so innocent and now she turns out to be an actual snake… Do you think Karrie knows about it?” he jabbers staring desperately in front of himself.

“Whoa, stop, dude, are you insane? She’s not a bitch, they just made a mistake and she freaked out. Her worrying about Jeff sounded genuine, after all, Stone is no perspective for her, he’s got that… he’s got Amber, whatever she is for him. And I don’t think Karrie knows anything, even if she does, she’ll pretend she doesn’t.”

“But this changes everything! Jeff is our friend too and I don’t want to lie to him.”

“Trust me, he’ll never ask “And tell me Schmitty, have Judy and Stone had sex?”, so you don’t have to.”

“You’re making fun of me but you know too how dangerous information these are so you’d better have a good idea what are we going to do know.”

“I’ll tell you, Schmitty: we’re gonna act casual. Just watch me.”

***

„There’s no chance I could reach that string. Just… no. I don’t have that muscle, I’m done.” I moan as I desperately try to stretch my pinky finger to play the next chord following Jeff’s instructions.

“Hey, relax, just reach a bit further, you’ve almost got it.” he chuckles and makes an insecure move to help me out but he changes his mind in the last moment and pretends he only wanted to scratch his arm. And I pretend not to have noticed it.

“No, it’s impossible, I can’t twist my wrist that much. I don’t have freakishly long fingers like Stone, it’s enough.” I give up and put the guitar aside. We’ve been practicing for like one hour, I played him my still rudimentary sounding song idea, of course without telling him what exactly it was. He improvised a bass line to it on his acoustic bass guitar, his fingers are still running back and forth over the strings despite the fact I stopped playing. When I was a kid, Grandpa would tell me that if you cut the head of a chicken, it can still run around for a few seconds before collapsing, maybe it’s a similar phenomenon. Or maybe it’s like when a freight train hits a car and it pushes the vehicle in front of itself for miles before stopping. Headless chickens and train wrecks, why am I thinking about stuff like these while hanging out with a nice guy?

“I’m sure you can do it if you practice it. Look, my fingers aren’t long either.” he raises his palm. Is he expecting me to measure mine to his by placing them together? Could we rather just draw them around and compare the drawings like small children? Okay, he’s got strong, manly hands, that’s not bad at all. But how can he stuff those thick fingers between the strings? And those jewelries, God, they are terrible. Would he mind if I asked him to put them off?

“No, I can’t. I’m not good at these moves, I’ve already tried to play the violin, it didn’t go well. It went awful.” I protest, rather to overtalk my racing thoughts than to argue with him. I hope he’s not going to ask me about the details, I don’t feel like telling him that story at all.

“Okay, it was you who asked me for help, so…” he shrugs with a half smile, his fingers are still nerve-wrackingly torturing the instrument.

“Actually it was you who offered to help so…”

“Fair enough. I don’t want to force it so… if you want to finish all your future performances by saying “sorry, now comes the chord which is incompatible with my wrist so go the fuck home” – then okay, I don’t care.” he puts down the guitar. I try to decode the expression on his face, is he disappointed or just casual or…?

“How do you do that?” I ask quickly, I can’t bear that look.

“What?”

“This… everything…” I flail helplessly.

“I don’t know… I think I got bored with doing nothing and wanted to try something new and I realized I could do everything instead of nothing.” he leans back with a challenging smirk.

“Geez, you spend too much time with Stone.” I roll my eyes. “I mean… I played you something and you immediately knew what to do with it. Your head is full of ideas and variations, can you hear the harmonies instinctively or…?”

“I don’t know… when I hear a melody, I start hearing the other parts in my head… but sometimes I just mess around and try different things to check if they can work as a song or as an idea that I can use later. I try to keep my ears fresh, I fight against crafting only bass lines in my head, that’s why I pick up the guitar from time to time. You know, if a bass player never leaves his comfort zone, after a while, he’ll tend to operate only with the same five or five notes, it’s like a tunnel vision… or tunnel hearing…” he ends his explanation with a shrug and a lopsided smile, as far as I’ve observed, he does that pretty often.

“That’s amazing… I envy you so much. I’ve been studying and playing music for as long as I can remember but I’ve never felt that… sense of liberty? I practiced my ass off, I learned everything I could, at Juilliard, we basically dissected classical musical pieces into single notes and… I developed some weird perfectionism in the meantime, I know how good music is supposed to be composed but… I myself just can’t do it. I was so busy with studying other people’s works that I couldn’t develop the ability to create something, it’s like… my knowledge paralyzed my creativity… Or that’s just what I keep telling myself because I1m not willing to accept the fact that writing music is a gift you can’t just earn by practicing and learning…”

“Maybe you’re right.” he shrugs again and his reaction somehow hits me hard; I don’t know why, though. “I think I’ve already mentioned you that I took piano lessons but I hated it. I found literally nothing intriguing in it, it was boring, I’ve never been into Beethoven or some shit like that.”

“What?” I frown. I didn’t expect him to like the same things I do but… could he just show at least a little interest in what I like? I even talked about art and skateboarding with him. Okay, he doesn’t owe me anything, we’re not dating and all but if he ever wants something from me… okay, he probably doesn’t, it was obviously just a stupid gossip.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to trash your music, it’s just not for me, I appreciate it but I don’t like it. I’m just a Montanan jerk, did you forget?”

“You’re not a jerk, don’t say that… I’m just… nothing, forget it.”

“No, if you want to say something, don’t swallow it. Did I hurt you?”

“You didn’t… I’ve just spent my entire life playing classical music so I can’t imagine how someone is able not to like it at all.”

“Same here with sports.”

“God, I hate sports!” I exclaim and I immediately begin to laugh realizing I’m not better than him either.

“You see? But speaking of your music studies, there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to ask.”

“No.”

“No what? Am I not allowed to ask the question?”

“No is the answer to the question.”

“But I haven’t even…”

“Trust me, it’s no.”

“If you say so…”

“I’m just kidding. Most people attack me when they learn I’m a musician asking if I’d sing or play something for them, it’s so annoying, it’s like the “grunge question’ of classical musicians…”

“Okay, I get it.” he smiles. “But that’s not what I was about to ask.”

“Thank God. So, I guess you don’t want me to teach you reading sheet music either, because that’s usually the second question, which is usually asked by people with no musical hearing at all...”

“No, it’s more of a… personal one.” he hesitates squinting at me for the final permission.

“Hit me.”

“Why are you here?”

“Here? Like, here and now, with you or…?”

“No, I mean, why are you here, with the band? You graduated from one of the most prestigious music schools on Earth, you could conduct top choirs or whatever… and you’re here, loading our shitty van every single night, smelling sweat and cigarette smoke, spending days in a tour bus with beer drinking ugly dudes… Why? I guess Juilliard graduates can pick whatever job offer they want so...”

“I’m here for the money.” I answer without thinking and it immediately sounds false. Am I? Really? “I came here for the money, I don’t deny it, I had no job and however terrified I was, something told me I had to take this opportunity.”

“But… as a classical musician trained at Juilliard… why this job? I just can’t get it.”

“Well… I’ve known for a very long time that the music of baroque era is in which I’m the most interested. It’s, you know, a passion to me, it’s like punk was to you. And if you want to be really good at it, you have to go to the place where it comes from. Here in the States, you can basically hear nothing that was written before Mozart.”

“Europe?”

“Exactly. So in my senior year, I applied for a scholarship of the music academy in Leipzig.”

“And…?”

“And I won it.”

“So you studied in Europe too?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because my father died a few months before I graduated and the small firm he ran died with him… it was a very complicated period so I asked the academy if I could postpone it by one year.”

He’s chewing his lower lip and speaks up only after digesting for a few seconds what he’s just heard.

“And they refused your application?”

“No, they sent me a kind acceptation letter in which they cited their scholarship regulation that said postponement is allowed once. So I moved back to Seattle and started teaching.”

“Oh. I guess something came up one year later too.”

“Well yeah, my sister’s almost dying, that came up.”

He exhales with a deep sigh, I have the feeling he already knew all the details, he just couldn’t do the math. Maybe Karrie told him our family saga. I don’t mind, though, I don’t feel like telling him those stories either…

“Well, that’s a lot… but it also sounds like… you gave up your dreams.”

Now it’s me who can’t do anything else but shrug.

“Maybe… or maybe, it was just a warning from the universe. I’m not religious but I do believe that everything happens with a reason, maybe you can’t find it out ever because it’s something bigger than you or your shitty little life. My family needed me and they still do, or at least they need my two hands I can make money with so… plus, I’ve always been terrified of performing. I have worst stage fright, I doubt I would be able to conduct in the spotlight of the world’s biggest concert halls… anyways… have you ever heard about famous, female conductors?”

“Normally, I’d say you’re a coward and you should follow your dreams but I understand the family factor, of course. And I don’t want to act like a hypocrite either, I could have looked for another graphic design program too when mine was canceled in Missula.”

“But changed your dream instead.”

“Exactly. And maybe that’s what you should do too if universe or God or Buddha or the spirit of Johann Sebastian Bach is trying to message you that you picked the wrong dream.”

“Are you trying to say I should switch my brain to believe loading shitty vans and smelling Scully’s and Schmitty’s stinky feet is my real dream?” I giggle.

“If that’s your way, than go for it, girl!” he plays the overly enthusiastic motivational trainer. We crack up but none of us is laughing heartfelt. His face finds finally rest in a genuine, encouraging smile. “Let’s raise our glasses to the new dreams!”

We both reach our hands to clink our imaginary glasses.

“To the new dreams!”

***

I’ve been on the road with them for days and nothing. Not a single move or a sound that’d confirm we’re following the right traces. And I’m thirsty. So thirsty. But they are so envious, I know they are hiding spare water in their stupid spacesuits or what but they claim they have nothing to share. Sure. I would never drink recycled pee, anyway. But those two moons look pretty cool, the night sky compensates me for every inconvenience I’ve experienced since we started chasing that gross sandworm… everything for the melange…

However important my mission is, it gets interrupted by three quick, impatient knocks on the door.

“You’ve been shitting in there for forty-two minutes! I know you’ve finished and you’re just reading! I have to pee! Get the fuck out of there! Why do you have to do this all the time?”

Maybe because this is the only place where I can have some progress with my current reading undisturbed? I reluctantly close the hardcover volume of Frank Herbert’s Dune and glance lazily at my wristwatch.

“First of all, it’s been only forty minutes. Second, it’s shorter than a blink of an eye, if you measure it in cosmic time. Not even applicable.”

“Okay, I can use astronomical metaphors too. My bladder is a red giant that is about to explode so…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, geez, urinary incontinence? You should see a urologist.” I remark opening the door. He basically tosses me out of is his way and almost slams it on my nose.

“It’s rather you who should see a doctor, fuck, Stone, what did you eat? Uuugh, I’m dying.” I hear his muffled indignation.

I lie down on my bed and stuff the pillow under my nape. I turn the pages back and forth for a few times until find the place where I was before Mike kicked me out. So, back to those goddamn pervert Fremen fuckers…

I barely manage to read a few lines, when Mike comes back and throws himself on his bed, unmuting the TV that is showing underdressed ladies caressing their own body and telling their erotic fantasies in seductive voice. I clear my throat. No reaction. I do it again, this time longer and louder. Nothing.

“Sorry, am I bothering?” I ask sharply but our guitarist seems to be completely immersed in the curves. “Okay, busted. I know you only went to the toilet to jerk off. You only watch Playboy TV and noname porn channels, you really need to get laid.”

“Done, last night. Remember?” he answers slowly and mindlessly, his eyes are still glued to the screen.

“No, because I wasn’t there, thank God.”

“You’re just envious because you have to practice celibacy, otherwise Amber would cut your balls off.”

I squint at the girls over my book.

“Not that I feel tempted. Jesus, I’m sick of these… udders…”

“Hey, watch your mouth! Those ladies deserve more respect! Especially her!” he points at the blonde, blue-eyed, busty woman on the screen who is dropping her lingerie standing at a bath tub.

“Why, who is she?” I look back at the text in front of me, not that I understand a word of it. Since I receive no answer I turn my head towards Mike only to see he sat up in the meantime and stares at me offended. “What? I have no idea.”

“That’s Shannon Tweed!!!” he flails outraged.

“… who is…?”

“Who is a goddess, Playmate of the Year in 1982 and last but not least, the girlfriend of Gene Simmons!”

“Oh. So she’s old as dirt.” I summarize laconically.

“Stone, what’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with big boobs? I thought you liked them… I mean, you are the guy who’s entitled to do anything with Seattle’s most spectacular pair of bosoms so…”

“Hey, you’re talking about my girlfriend!” I grunt.

“I’m talking about your girlfriend’s tits!”

“Exactly, that’s it! Don’t talk about my girlfriend’s tits! Anyway, how do you know what they look like?”

“Hey, first, I’m only talking about them. It’s called freedom of speech, First Amendment…”

“What the fuck, parts of the Constitution are printed now on beer tags or did I miss something?”

“…second, it is very difficult not to know what they look like, they basically poke your eyes out!”

“Only talking, ‘course.”

“Certain female anatomical features attract men’s eyes, it’s in our genetic code. Don’t even try to make me believe those features had nothing to do with you ending up with her. Wait!” he exclaims with a finger snapping. “Oh, I get it already. You miss her! That’s why you can’t stand the playmates on TV! But you could have said, it’s not a shame…”

“Dr. ‘Cready, expert of constitutional law and anatomy, psychotherapist. I’ve just said I don’t feel tempted…”

“Because those boobs” he points at the screen “are forbidden fruit and remind you of those boobs in Seattle.”

“You’re pointing in the wrong direction, Michael. You’re pointing at boobs in Indiana.”

“Whatever. You miss her, admit it. My boobies are over the ocean, my boobies are over the sea…”

“Stop!”

“My boobies are over the ocean so bring back my boobies to me…”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“BRING BAAACK, BRING BAAACK, BRING BACK MY BOOBIES TO ME, TO MEEEE!”

“I’m only saying that even huge breasts can be boring after a while.” I overshout his off-key singing.

Mike suddenly stops singing and just blinks at me completely frozen.

“You mean… you want to leave Amber?”

“Jesus, what did I do to deserve this?” I bury my face in my hands. “I mean… imagine your favorite food!”

“But that’s… risotto…?”

“Perfect!”

“But risotto doesn’t look like boobs!”

“Jesus, of course not, just imagine it!”

“Okay. Mmmh, it looks delicious. I can even feel its smell.” he moans with closed eyes.

“So you want to eat risotto now, right?”

“Oh yeah, I want it more than anything.”

“And if you could… or had to eat risotto every single day, would you feel the same?”

“Uhm, probably… not.” he opens his eyes.

“And here we are. If you’re in the position where you can play with huge breasts every day, it’s not such a big deal anymore.”

“Hm, makes sense…” he lies back. “But wait!” he sits up quickly again.

“What?”

“In that case, risotto wouldn’t be my favorite food anymore.”

“Yeah, probably…”

Congrats Sherlock. I drop my book on the nightstand, by now, I basically gave up all hope for finishing the chapter I was reading.

“But that means that you prefer small boobs now!”

“I didn’t say that but obviously, smaller tits have their appeal too. And there are girls who would look ridiculous with big breasts.”

My mind begins to wander involuntarily… Yeah, Amber is a bombshell and she drives me crazy whenever she’s around but I’ve always had a thing for more fragile looking girls…

“Who are you thinking about?” Mike asks greedily like a curious puppy.

“Jesus, no one.” I scoff frowning. “I mean, very slim girls look better with… proportionate breasts, you know, like small apples…”

I catch myself cupping my hands, what the hell, am I honking imaginable tits in the air? Okay, I have to talk to Eric to fly Amber here, I’m going to put an end to this, I’m pathetic.

“Say an example!”

What? I don’t know whom I was thinking about, I don’t even know if I was thinking about an existing person, maybe I was just fantasizing about freaky phantom breasts, I couldn’t even see them, it was just a desirable cleavage… and round hips… and shapely thighs…

“I can’t!”

“Just say an example, I don’t know, someone famous who looks like that, or someone who we both know…”

“Kylie Minogue?” I groan in agony. Hopefully I satisfied Mike’s need for a new protagonist for his erotic dreams because he only nods with an appreciative pout.

The ringing of the phone on the bedside between us interrupts our intellectual conversation and we both stare at the device surprised and confused for a few seconds, it’s usually us who call family members and friends, not the other way around. Finally, I decide to pick up.

“It’s Stone.”

“…” No one answers but I can hear some indistinct noises coming from the other end of the line.

“Hello… who’s that? Wo am I talking to?” I ask, and Mike pulls closer to the speaker of the receiver too.

“Ah… excuse me… I must have dialed the wrong number… you’re obviously not the Notre Dame Hunchbach…” an old female voice answers.

What the hell? Is this a prank call? Old people make phone pranks too?

“Who?” I mouth to Mike who mouths “Judy” as a response. Ah, yes. She also chose a codename, not that anyone is interested in her. “You’re talking to Dr. Hugh Jeego, but who am I talking to?”

“Ah, you must be Mr. Gossard. I’m Mrs. Albertson, Judy’s grandma.”

I almost drop the receiver.

“Ugh… uhm… hi, Mrs. Albertson, it’s nice to meet you… I mean, even if not in person but… I guess you wanted to call Judy so…” I make an attempt to finish this awkward intermezzo but she cuts me off.

“Actually, I am glad that I can talk with my Judy’s new colleague, this job is so different in comparison to what she worked earlier, you know, she taught in a school…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“…and now she’s with a rock band, and there are so many rumors about musicians, they drink and do drugs and…”

“We… we don’t drink… that much… not before shows…” I answer and Mike nods approvingly opening a beer can with a loud fizz. “… and we prefer herbs…”

“And mushrooms…” Mike adds.

“Shut up, you ruin everything!” I hiss between my teeth while I cover the microphone with my palm.

“Who was that?”

“It was… it was Mike, our lead guitarist.”

“Ah, Mr. McCready!”

Mike pats his chest proudly.

“Exactly, Mr. McCready…” I flip him the bird.

“I hope my Judy takes care of herself, she tends to become obsessed with work, she even forgets to eat… does she eat properly?”

“I’ve… I’ve seen her eating… so I guess she does…” I try to reassure her but I’m afraid I don’t sound very convincing; after all, the eating habits of Miss Smarty Pants don’t belong to my main interests.

“I wish she ate more, she’s so skinny, isn’t she?”

“She is… I mean, she’s slim. But like… not too slim. Her body is proportionate… I mean, physically, anatomically… her shape is feminine…  and when I say “feminine” I mean she’s not malnourished…” I babble and the small apple tits appear in front of my eyes again, Jesus, I’ve started losing my sanity… For some reason, Mike feels necessary to grab the receiver and yell a gratuitous, cheesy tirade into it.

“My learned colleague is trying to say that she’s a very pretty young lady, with all the respect, of course. She’s the most virtuous girl I know, she behaves well, you can be proud of her, Mrs. Albertson.”

Yes, Mrs. Albertson, exactly, your grandchild behaves well, she brought condoms only enough for a whole fuckin’ football team, safety first… I snatch the receiver out of Mike’s hand and lift it back to my ear but before I could finally get rid of the old lady, the TV catches my attention. While we were listening to the phone call, the harmless playmate fantasies ended and the channel started airing hardcore porn. And either was the petting part very short or it didn’t even exist since the “characters” are pretty much in the middle of things and before we could react anything to avoid the disaster, the actress starts screaming rhythmically.

“What was that noise? Are women with you too?” the old woman inquires suspiciously.

“Turn down the volume, for fuck’s sake!!!” I scream-whisper to Mike.

“No, we’re alone, Mrs. Albertson… we’re just watching TV… Murder She Wrote, someone is being killed!” Mike improvises aggressively poking the remote. “It’s not working…” he groans with a miserable expression.

“Oh, I like that show… which episode? Maybe I turn on the TV to watch it too...”

If you knew… In the meantime the man starts moaning too so the obvious noises grow even louder.

“Oh, the murderer is being killed too!” I try to win some time for Mike, I admit, it wasn’t the most creative lie I’ve ever said…

“I’m saying it’s not working, it must be contact failure or low battery…” he explains beating the remote against his palm at full strength, creating a counterpart to the sound of the bodies snapping against each other on the screen.

“It’s the episode about the slasher.” I maintain the conversation and then address Mike again. “Then use the power button on the TV device or throw it the fuck out of the window, I don’t care, just do something!!!”

“Ah, great idea!” his face lights up and finally, he walks to the TV and turns it off. I swear, I thought for a second he was going to choose the window version, like Keith Moon. I’m sure he was considering it but found the box too heavy.

“It’s over…“ I transmit to Mrs. Albertson.

“It ended with a cliffhanger, what a shame…” Mike remarks and I can barely suppress my snorts.

“I hope for a happy ending…” I grin, Mike presses his pillow against his face, while the poor lady obviously doesn’t even know what to say. After a few seconds of silent, body-shaking laughter, he rearranges his face muscles and takes the receiver away from me.

“It was a pleasure to meet to you, Mrs. Albertson. Judy is a great girl and as far as we know, Effie too, please, hug her for us. I hope we can meet you in person too, when we get back.”

“I admit, I’m relieved, I want you to know I think you are just darling guys. And now, I call the Notre Dame Hunchbach, as I intended to. Goodnight, Mr. Gossard, Mr. McCready.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Albertson.” we sing in unison.

After I hang up the phone, we stare at each other silently for long moments, before we burst out laughing hysterically.

***

Great. She’s late. She promised she’d be waiting for me at the bar counter at 9 p.m. I’m doing the third circle in this goddamn place and she’s nowhere to be found. Okay, RCKNDY is actually my favorite place and I was happy when Krisha offered to meet me here to unveil Kelly’s and Susan’s “great idea” about which I only know at this moment that it concerns my photos. The cigarette smoke irritates my throat and some unknown band is in the middle of sound check on the stage, the indistinct guitar noises and the female lead singer’s instructions blast at random moments from the speakers causing me mild heart attack every single time and making the crowd members overyell them. Despite the early hour, the place is packed; I can barely struggle through the mass of flannel-wearing guys and girls. Early hour… what am I talking… now that my lifestyle converges on clinical death, both metaphorically and literally, I usually spend my evenings in front of the TV wearing my pajamas. It’s good Krisha picked this day, Mom is working at that new side job again so I didn’t have to make anything up to prevent her from asking suspicious questions.

I visited the restroom to kill some time but it just made me frustrated all the more since I involuntarily became the audience of a bunch of girls, one of them was gushing about the kissing skills of her current crush… gah, I can’t believe I turned into this sour bitch, just because I’ll end up as a spinster, she’s entitled to have some fun…

Almost fifteen minutes have passed by and she still hasn’t shown up yet. I can’t hang out with Victor either, he’s helping with putting the finishing touches at the sound check. I guess I have to wait then. I pick a bar stool and try to decipher the list of beverages on the wall.

“What can I get for you?” a red-haired bartender girl asks. Her question catches me off-guard, since my good old answer “beer” hasn’t been an option for a while and I didn’t have enough time to consider the alternatives. She’s chewing gum with a bored face, reminding me of a ruminant… a hot ruminant.

“Uhm… I… ugh, I haven’t…” I jabber and she reacts with an impatient eyeroll, the countless bracelets are clinking around her wrist as she runs her fingers through her red mane.

“I’d like to have a virgin mojito.” I utter the first thing that comes to mind. She acknowledges my choice with a scornful scoff… Yeah, in case I haven’t felt embarrassed enough yet, she makes obvious that she’s the sexy and cool femme fatale and I’m a straight-edge cripple in a boring, worn, brown jacket.

“Hey, here you are!” someone grabs my shoulders.

“Me? I’ve been waiting for you for like… hours?” I frown while Krisha settles down on the bar stool next to me and places her beer on the counter.

“Gosh, sorry!” her eyes pop as she checks her wristwatch. “I arrived too early and went to the executive office to meet a few friends.” she points at some people talking in front of a door that probably belongs to the office rooms. “That’s Alex, he runs this place, he’s a good friend of Stone, by the way. And that girl next to him works here too, she’s the girlfriend of Regan.”

I observe the girl she’s talking about, she has a nice, bright smile. Fantastic. Krisha knows everyone here… and I have no idea who these people are, and by the way, I’m nobody.

“Regan?” I furrow my eyebrows. “It’s a unique name, I swear I’ve heard it but I can’t place it…”

“He’s also an old friend of mine. And of Stone of course. You might know his name because he played in Malfunkshun with Andy. I mean Andy Wood.”

“Wood.” we say the name at once. “Of course I know his name, I didn’t grow up in a cave…” I explain, maybe in a sharper tone than intended.

“Oookay… “ she raises both hands defensively. “Actually, Regan almost became the drummer of Mother Love Bone, until they replaced him with Greg Gilmore. They made Stone fire him, I was thinking “okay, that’s it, he’s gonna hate us forever” but somehow, he managed to convince him by using logical reasons. If you ever want to fire a drummer, just call him because he’s your guy.” she nods meaningfully and takes a sip of her beer.

“Based on my sister’s opinion, drummers probably leave the band willingly, after having spent some time with him.” I remark dryly. “Thank you.” I reach for my drink and slide the money towards the phlegmatic redhead. I suppress a smile when I see her realizing with disappointed face that I spared the tip. What was she thinking, seriously?

“Oh yes, I forgot your sister and you sew Stone-shaped voodoo dolls in your spare time. By the way, Regan has played with a guy called Shawn for a few years, he’s a huge talent. The dude is a Prince-freak, which is somehow odd in a city where you can’t make a single step without stomping on a distortion pedal but he’s an awesome singer. AND they are planning to jam with Stone as soon as he gets back. I can give you the address of their rehearsal room in case you want to assassinate him…”

“No, thanks, I already know where he lives so…”

“Right!” she slaps herself in the forehead.

“Anyway, can I finally learn why we’re here?”

“Soon. We’re waiting for someone… I’m going to introduce you to someone… who has a job offer for you!”

“Wow… let me guess… healthcare branch has discovered me and they want me to be the face of some firm’s dialyzer portfolio?” I squint at her as I loudly slurp my cocktail.

“Damn, you nailed it!” she bangs her fist against the counter. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell you anything until she arrives, you need to be punished for the self-deprecating joke.”

“Spank me…” I mumble but my retort stays unnoticed since Krisha stares in an indefinite direction next to me sending an enthusiastic wave towards someone.

“Look, Jer is here too.” she points at the target of her smile and I follow her gaze only to recognize Jerry Cantrell… he’s wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket with a white tee.

“Wait… didn’t… didn’t you mention… I mean, you dated, didn’t you?” I ask confused, trying to form coherent sentences. It’s not going well.

“Yeah, we did.” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“But exes are supposed to hate each other…” I try not to turn around too obviously, so I remove a non-existing hair from the shoulder part of my jacket. While he’s slowly walking through the crowd, I notice he’s holding hands with a long, brown-haired girl. She has a perfect body and she’s probably completely aware of it since the tight leather pants highlight every curves of her. Sure, a 10/10 chick for a 10/10 guy, that’s how world has always worked… His hair is let down… I catch myself smiling, Dad insisted on calling him Rapunzel…

“It was just a summer fling and we realized after a few dates that we weren’t made for each other. So no one got hurt.” she shrugs. “Anyway, we share the building with the management of Alice in Chains so we knew we would run into each other all the time. The music scene of this city it’s like a big, incestuous family so…”

We both crack up.

“Oh no…” she sighs annoyed, staring over me again. I don’t know what’s going on in her head but it must have to do something with another twenty-eight people I’ve never met. “DON’T TURN AROUND!” she yells at me when I try to check the cause of her reaction.

“Why, what’s…?”

“It’s too late, I guess she’s already noticed us… or hasn’t she? Bow your head…” she leans on the counter, letting her hair cover her face.

“What the fuck?”

“I said bow your head… avoid eye contact… shit, I don’t have the nerves for this right now…”

“Krisha? Oh my god, it’s you, I haven’t seen you for ages!” I hear a powerful female voice from behind my back.

“Oh, hi Amber, it’s nice to see you!” Krisha groans with a painful smile, lifting her head and letting herself be pulled in a half-embrace resigned. I have to bite my lips to prevent myself from giggling since she sends a cross-eyed grimace to me over the girl’s shoulder. So she must be Stone’s Amber.

“Hey, are you here with your little friend?”

And that must be me. I involuntarily straighten up as much as I can but despite the high bar stool, I’m still shorter than her in her heels. I wonder if Red peed into these ones too… Now that I’m checking her out properly, I realize somehow she doesn’t belong here. Mini dress, heels, perfect makeup… That’d be Stone’s type?

“Uhm, this is Effie, she’s the sister of the band’s new monitor engineer…”

“Ah, Julie, you see, I know everything…” she knocks on his temple with her index finger a few times. “I’m Stoney’s girlfriend.” she grabs my hand and shakes it aggressively. I don’t correct her, I just exchange a quick look with Krisha, her eyes confirm that it wouldn’t make sense anyway.

“And… are you going to stay for the gig too?” Krisha nods towards the stage after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Oh, no, I’m going partying with my girls, I just checked in, I wanted to say hi to Alex and ask him for a favor. We’re organizing a grunge-themed fashion show and this place would be a perfect place for it.”

“A what?”

Krisha’s face radiates shock and disgust at the same time.

“You know, this grunge thing is blowing up, the firm is about to launch a collection, you know, flannel shirts, jackets, shorts with leggings, so we’re looking for a grungy place to present it…” she explains with huge hand moves. As she begins to explain the details of her brilliant idea, I get immediately distracted. Not only because my mind is desperately trying to ignore this nonsense but because I spot Leather Pants Chick at the same sport were Alex and his colleague were standing a few minutes ago. Only a few seconds pass by until her partner arrives too, he immediately pulls her closer by her hips as he leans against the wall… they engage into a make-out session without hesitation. Jerry digs his fingers into her hair and as things are getting more intense, his hands slowly wander along her back until they reach and firmly grab their destination…

I swear it wasn’t so hot in here when I arrived, I can feel my face is burning, I’m sweating like I was in hell… Yeah, being forced to watch a hot guy smooching with a girl who isn’t you but in exchange, is much prettier than you, that’s how I imagine the first circle of hell. I can barely peel myself out of my jacket, my elbow gets stuck when Amber grabs its sleeve. I’m still a little dazed-off and stare at her expressionlessly while I’m trying to pick up the threads of conversation.

“...exactly like this one, thrift clothes are so trendy now, where did you get this one?”

She shakes the sleeve of my jacket impatiently, making me realize that’s what she’s talking about. Should I tell her the truth? That it’s not from a thrift shop, that it’s original, that Judy and I pooled the money we earned at our summer jobs together and made an agreement about taking turns on wearing it six years ago?

“I can’t… can’t remember…” I manage an effortless answer.

“You have a great taste, we three should do a thrift store tour together.” she rants on.

“Totally.” Krisha tries to seem enthusiastic but she rather reminds me of a snarling serial killer.

“Okay, I have to go, oh my god, I’m late and I haven’t even talked to Alex. We could hang out in the city next week, call me, Krish! And bring your new friend too!” she winks at me. “See you, later girls!” she finally leaves us alone, the quick tapping of heels echoes in my head even after she has disappeared behind the office door. Krisha grabs her glass and drinks its content for one sip.

“Ah, I feel much better now.” she sighs. “I’m afraid my phone is about to die. I may not be able to make phone calls for a while.”

I snort into my drink.

“I must say, she’s not the girl I’d imagine as Stone’s girlfriend.”

“Trust me, she’s not the girl whom anyone would imagine as his girlfriend. But seeing them together is always like a free circus ticket, it’s pretty funny, especially when you have coke and popcorn too.”

“Sooo… where’s the mysterious person who we’re waiting for?” I look around, although I have no clue what physical characteristics I should look for, I don’t even know if we’re talking about a man or a woman. As my gaze slowly wanders around the room, I admit to myself unwillingly, that I exactly know what I’m looking for. Long, blonde hair, black leather jacket and a white shirt. The realization makes me blush, I feel like in those good old high school days, trying to casually encounter my current crush who doesn’t even know I exist. Why am I like this all the time? Why? I’m such an idiot…

“Okay, I check Alex’s office, maybe we misunderstood each other and she went in without me noticing her. And I’m sure Alex needs some spiritual support too, the recovery will be tough for him. Do you wanna come?”

“No, I… I’d rather wait here.” I answer quickly, flushing, I’m stupid, stupid, stupid… “So it’s a she?” I shout after Krisha but she just waves me off laughing.

So… what was I thinking? I could have join her and meet her cool friends but I chose to drink here alone, not that I don’t feel lonely enough. And I ran out of drink in the meantime too… I want to procrastinate the next round until the other, friendlier bartender shows up again but unfortunately, the red-haired demon spots my empty glass and elbows on the counter opposite me with a challenging, patronizing smile.

“May I bring you a next lemonade?”

I’m about to snap back but a pleasant male voice over my head makes me change my mind.

“One more of this, whatever it is. And the lady is my guest.”

[malecacidd]

It's wuv wednesday!!!!! And I'm,,, actually really proud of this fic. Honestly, it's not very ship-y until the last one, but it is very julie-centric and isn't that what we're here for?

So here's 5 times Julie was given flowers and 1 time she gave them to someone else!!

(Warning, in the third section in this she is at her mom's funeral)

Also!! I'm gonna post it on ao3 I just haven't yet that's why there's not a link

--

1.

Julie never really would have described herself as a social person, but she was no introvert either. She loved talking to people, loved making friends, it was just that she had trouble speaking up, especially when she was a kid.

Which was why her first ever day of kindergarten was not fun. Not at all.

Or at least, it wasn't until recess when the entire class went outside to the fairly small playground.

Julie had just walked outside as the majority of the kids ran, plopping herself down onto the bench closest to the door of the building and wondering how long she would have to sit under the hot sun, expecting to be alone the entire time.

What she didn't expect was the way someone started walking up to her about ten minutes in, reaching down to pick a flower out of the grass on her way towards Julie.

"Hi!" She said excitedly, sitting on the bench next to her and holding out the flower she had picked, "Here! I got this for you."

Julie reached forward slowly before taking the flower and examining it closely. It looked more like a weed than a flower, but it was pretty, and she smiled widely, turning back to the person next to her.

The girl ended up introducing herself as Flynn, babbling on about how they were going to be best friends, and really, Julie couldn't have had a better first day.

2.

Julie's family had never really been the type to give gifts.

It was true that things were given on birthdays and holidays and things like that, but otherwise, they showed love through words and support as well as quality time. Which was why she was surprised at what she came home to after her 5th grade graduation.

Her and Flynn had decided to walk home after it instead of riding the bus, so she didn't really notice the way the door was slightly ajar as she walked up the concrete path, waving at Flynn before walking inside and jumping in surprise at the way her mom and dad walked forward, bouquets of pink flowers held tightly in each of their hands and wide grins on their faces.

"Congratulations mija!" Her mom said, coming forward and taking her backpack off of her shoulders and placing the flowers in her hands.

Her dad grabbed her free hand, moving her towards the living room. "Come on, let's go watch your favorite movie, and then later you can pick what to eat for dinner?" He said, and she nodded quickly, making him grin even wider than before.

And later, surrounded by her family at the dinner table, the bunches of flowers in vases on the kitchen windowsill, she realized just how lucky she felt, just how loved she was.

3.

Julie wouldn't describe her mom's funeral as the worst day of her life, but it was pretty high up there.

She hated the way she was surrounded by people she barely knew, the way her mom's body was literally just there at the head of the room, the way people kept looking at her with pity in their eyes.

But most of all, she hated the way she felt.

Numb. Completely, utterly, numb.

It was how she had felt when she first heard the news. It was how she had felt when her brother broke down in her arms. It was how she had felt when she found her dad crying in the kitchen one night when she was going downstairs for some water.

And she hated it.

At that moment, it felt as if nothing could break through it, the absolute numbness that she felt. It felt like that was how she would be forever. Forever unable to cry, and forever unable to actually feel anything at all.

Until later that day as people were leaving the funeral home, tears running down their cheeks.

She had just been sitting in the back of the funeral home, hoping to get some quiet and alone time until her dad came to get her to go home. She thought that she would be safe until the funeral director had found her, a single flower in her hand.

Julie recognized what it was immediately.

A dahlia.

She bent down, placing it beside Julie before silently walking away, and whenever the door finally shut behind her, Julie picked the flower up, staring at it while she clutched it tightly in her hands.

Waves of emotion and feeling that she should have experienced a week ago decided to crash over her all at once then, and she couldn't find it in her to hold back her sobs.

4.

After Julie had poured her heart out to the sky, she really didn't expect anything to actually happen.

No matter how much Flynn had ranted about signs, and no matter how much it actually made sense, she just couldn't bring herself to believe that her mom- and now, the boys- were planning her fate or watching over her. It just seemed impossible. Completely and utterly impossible.

So you can imagine her surprise when a lady holding a bag of flowers went to walk past her before pausing, grabbing a flower out of the bag and handing it to her with a sympathetic smile.

When she hugged the dahlia in her arms, it felt almost as if it was a hug from her mom. If she closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of the flower deeply enough, it was almost like she was a kid again, getting comforted by her mom after a bad nightmare.

It wasn't the only time she had been given a dahlia, but it was, by far, her favorite.

5.

Julie had just been getting ready to leave the house and go to the studio when the doorbell rang, and when she opened it, she was surprised to see Nick, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

She had taken them with a smile, ignoring the way he looked distinctly un-Nick-like to thank him, completely unaware of what was about to come.

When he eventually left the house, she thought about how weird he was acting and what that could mean before dismissing the thought, putting the flowers in the spare vase that they had and smiling.

She was probably just being paranoid, anyways.

Julie wasn't given flowers often, so she just tried to ignore her brain for a moment and sniffed them, smiling softly at the nice smell and in blissful ignorance of the boy watching her from outside the house.

+1

Julie was trying to give him some space, she really really was, but even Alex and Reggie were starting to notice Luke's sour mood and the way he was poofing off to his parents house more than usual, coming back with his eyes red and puffy every time.

She wasn't really sure what to do, so at first, she just tried to back up a bit, tried to give him some space. But within three days, she had given up, changing her plan to direct confrontation instead.

To her dismay, it just ended up with him shutting down and pushing her even further away. So, she decided, it was time for her last resort.

Maybe that was a small exaggeration. Buying his favorite cookies from the store and just having him sit down with her wasn't really that big of a deal, and it wasn't a new thing either, but it was all she had.

Or, it was, until a bouquet of bright blue flowers caught her eye just as she was moving to check out.

Grabbing the flowers had, to be honest, been a completely impulsive thing. She saw them and immediately thought of Luke, wondering how he would react, if he would like them or not.

And now, as she sat in the living room, cookies and flowers laid out on the table while she waited for Luke to get back from his parents house, she questioned whether or not she had made a mistake.

Before she could act on her last minute decision to get rid of the bouquet, though, Luke poofed inside, tears making their way down his face.

Clearly, he didn't expect her to be there, considering the way that he jumped in surprise when his eyes landed on her, immediately moving his hand to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve.

"Julie! Uh… hi." He said, his arms stiff by his sides, and she tilted her head at him, flowers completely forgotten.

Or, they were forgotten, until he decided to bring them up.

She had just stared at him with concern as he glanced around the room, looking anywhere but her eyes before he froze, staring directly at the flowers on the table.

When she finally noticed an immeasurable amount of time later, she moved quickly to pick them up, holding them out to him before she could change her mind.

"Here!" She said, just a touch too loud, "I got these for you."

He stared for a moment before reaching forward with a shaky hand and grabbing them, looking so much like a puppy that Julie had to remind herself that she probably shouldn't pet his hair.

He clutched them close to his chest, smelling them with a small and genuine smile. "Thanks. No ones uh, no ones ever given me flowers before," He said, and Julie had to hold back both tears and a grin.

She was the first, which made her feel warm inside, but Luke should've been given so much more.

She grabbed his hand silently, pulling him to the couch and settling against his shoulder. She could feel the tension slowly releasing from his body, and tried not to cry for the second time that day.

And there, leaning against one of the most important people in her life, Julie found that she was happy. Actually, truly, happy.

[storiesforallfandoms]

love on tour ~ rook

word count: 2310

request?: yes!

“Could you do one for rook where him and his girl are just being really cute together on tour and the boys have never seen him so happy before. Thank you 🖤”

description: rook manages to convince the crew to let his girlfriend come on tour, and his friends get to see first hand how happy he is when he’s with her

pairing: rook x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

The idea of bringing a girl on tour was not one that the crew was very fond of, and they made that known when Rook asked. They didn’t think tour was the place for a girl, especially not a girlfriend. The crew loved to party, to drink and do drugs, and all of them, excluding Rook, liked to bring girls back to their hotel rooms or to the tour bus.

“Do you really think your girlfriend will be okay with that?” Baze asked Rook as Rook tried for the millionth time to convince them.

“We met at a party,” Rook responded. “She loves to drink, she’s a party animal, and as long as I’m not the one bringing girls back to my room or to the tour bus I can’t see her having a problem with you guys doing it.”

After some more attempts at convincing them, the band finally said yes. The following month when tour started again, Rook’s girlfriend was there before any of them, leaning against the tour bus with a bag at her feet. Rook raced up to her and took her into his arms, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around.

“Hey baby,” he said, giving her a kiss. “Here, meet the guys. This is Baze, Slim, Dub, of course you know Kells. Guys, this is (Y/N).”

“It’s nice to meet you guys,” (Y/N) said as she shook their hands. “Rook talks about you guys all the time. Thank you so much for being cool with me coming with you guys. I’ve been dying to see what it’s like when Rook goes on tour.”

The boys shared a look but smiled at (Y/N). When the introductions were finished, the group boarded the tour bus. Rook showed (Y/N) around the bus and showed her where her bunk would be.

“If the bunks were bigger I’d say we could sleep in the same bunk,” he said. “But they’re so small I think we’d both feel claustrophobic in the same bunk.”

“I totally understand. They barely look big enough for one person,” (Y/N) noted as she threw her bag into her bunk. “So, when’s the first show? If it’s tonight, I should probably nap now so I can keep up with you guys both during and after the show.”

“The first show isn’t until tomorrow night, you have plenty of time to sleep,” Rook assured her, planting a sweet kiss on her lips.

“Get a room!” Slim called as he passed between them, throwing his own bag onto a top bunk and raising himself into it. “But not this one, I’m taking a nap.”

(Y/N) and Rook laughed together as Slim pulled the curtain to his bunk across.

“There’s a TV back here,” Rook said, nodding towards the back room in the tour bus. “We can watch movies or play video games if you want.”

“Oh, you’re so on. Whatever is there, I’ll kick your ass.”

~~~~~~

While the boys weren’t exactly too comfortable with the idea of a girlfriend joining them on tour, they soon warmed up to (Y/N). The first show on the tour, she was front row, cheering Kells on as he performed. Each of them swore she screamed the loudest out of anyone there where Kells did the band introductions and got to Rook.

When the first show was over, an after party was planned at the nearest bar. None of the boys were really sure how she’d keep up with their partying, but they found out soon enough they didn’t have to worry about it at all. (Y/N) was nearly drunk about an hour into the after party, and she would often join the boys for a quick puff of a joint outside. She solidified herself that night, however, when she hooked Kells up with a girl.

“How did you do that?” Slim asked her in amazement as he watched Kells escorting his new date for the night out of the club.

“Simple,” (Y/N) responded, “you find a girl who is almost if not more drunk than you, make sure she isn’t here with a date or anything, you talk up your friend, and then just introduce them and let the sparks fly.”

The boys were impressed. She laughed as their shocked faces. “I had some guy friends in college I used to run with, they were the type that wanted to only hook up in college but had absolutely zero game. One night, one of them and I were talking at the bar together and this girl approached him asking him if he would buy her a drink, then asked to dance, and by the end of the night he went home with her. Apparently having a female friend with him made him more approachable, and when that female friend talks you up to the girl the deal is sealed in seconds.”

Slim through an arm around Rook. “Make sure she comes to every after party! I want to see her work her magic more often.”

And so she did. The next night they had another show, and thus another after party. That night, she managed to score girls for both Slim and Baze. The night after that Dub, and one night she even got girls for all four of them.

After the last had left, a dopey smile on his face and a girl on his arm, (Y/N), who was so drunk she could barley walk straight on this night, stumbled into Rook and leaned into him.

“I think they’re starting to like me,” she slurred before planting a wet kiss on Rook’s cheek.

He laughed. “They always liked you, but now they respect you even more.”

Then there was the way Rook acted when she was around.

At first, it annoyed the guys a little bit. Rook would always want to be near (Y/N), to have his arms around her, to be touching her. Some nights they’d leave the after parties early to either go back to the hotel room or to the tour bus to have sex. Being boys, they hated (Y/N) “barging in on guy time”, but all that changed when they started to notice Rook’s happiness.

It wasn’t like it was subtle changes, it was very obvious changes. Rook was smiling more, laughing more, especially when (Y/N) was around. His face would light up when she walked into a room, even more so when she even just stood next to him. When she was standing front row, Rook would perform his heart out, as if the only person he ever had to impress was his girlfriend, and now that she was here it was time to really start playing. The guys took note of his happiness, it was hard not to.

On one night halfway through the tour, the band had to leave immediately from one place to get to where the next show was. So, instead of having an actual after party, they had one with just the six of them in the tour bus. They all picked up alcohol before hitting the road, and were well into their choices by the time midnight hit.

They were playing music through the speakers while Kells, Slim, and (Y/N) danced crazily (and drunkenly). Dub and Baze were sat at the kitchen table, rolling a joint, while Rook was sat on the couch with the window open, smoking one of his own. He watched his girlfriend with a smile on his face. He couldn’t be happier to have her here. He was dreading having to go on tour without her and not get to see her for nearly six months. He knew he wouldn’t be able to always take her on tour, but he liked that he’d be able to from time to time now that the boys liked her.

The song playing came to a close and (Y/N) collapsed onto the couch next to Rook. She took the joint from his hand and took a long drag from it.

“I think you need a drink, not a joint,” Rook teased her as she passed it back. She turned to him and opened her mouth, blowing the cloud of weed smoke into his face, causing him to sputter. She laughed and took a mouthful of her beer.

“Yo, turn down the music a second guys,” Kells said, bringing everyone’s attention to him. Baze, who was nearest to the remote for the tour bus stereo system, picked it up and turned it down so that it was now a dull whisper. Kells picked up his own drink and held it over his head. “Everyone, raise your drinks - ” they all did so. “ - and follow me in this toast to (Y/N)!”

“To (Y/N)!” everyone besides (Y/N) cheered after him.

“Not only can she party harder than any of us assholes,” Kells continued, “and not only can she pick up chicks for us better than we ever could, but she also makes our man Rook the happiest he’s ever been, and for that we’re grateful to have her on this tour and we invite her to come on as many tours as she wants!”

A chorus of “here here”s rang out as the boys took a drink. (Y/N) beamed with pride, and so did Rook, who was looking at her with more love than he had ever looked at anyone with, before he, too, swallowed the rest of his drink.

The after party went on for hours, and soon enough everyone went to bed. Everyone except for (Y/N) and Rook, who were cuddled up on the tour bus couch, watching the sun rise in a new state.

“Is it weird that I’m not tired?” (Y/N) asked Rook as she watched the sun getting higher. “I’ve been up at least twenty four hours now, or almost anyways, and I feel as though I just slept for twelve.”

“Well, you did just party all night,” Rook pointed out. “Could still be the alcohol and the adrenaline pumping through your veins. I give you twenty minutes before you can’t stay awake and half an hour before you’re out like a light.”

“I’ll take that bet,” (Y/N) said, holding her hand out to awkwardly shake Rook’s. They both laughed as Rook tightened his hold on her and kissed her forehead. “The guys really like me that much, huh?”

“Of course they do, why wouldn’t they?” Rook asked. “You’re the most awesome person ever, anyone who didn’t like you would be crazy.”

“Maybe, but I do know they weren't thrilled about me joining the tour.” Rook moved to give (Y/N) a shocked looked that made her giggle. “Please babe, I’m not stupid. I could tell the moment they saw me that they weren’t thrilled that I’d be joining you guys. It wasn’t until after the first show, and the first after party, that I could tell they were warming up to me. Even then, I knew they didn’t like me always hanging around and being attached to your hip, which I totally understand and I try not to be too clingy around you.”

“You’re the total opposite of clingy,” Rook assured her. “I love having you around, no matter who I’m hanging out with. And yeah, you caught my dirty little lie I guess. They weren’t too excited about a girl joining us on tour, much less a girlfriend. They said it was because they were afraid you weren’t going to enjoy the tour lifestyle, but I know it’s because we’re usually just the guys on tour. Even when we have girlfriends, we’re just a bunch of kids from Cleveland living our dreams when we go on tour, and they were afraid that’d be threatened by the addition of a girlfriend to the mix.”

(Y/N) moved in a way that left her laying on top of Rook, looking down at his face. “Why did you want me to come on tour so bad?”

“Honestly, I just didn’t want to leave you home. We haven’t been away from each other that long yet, and I wasn’t ready to leave you for six months while we went on tour. Plus, I’d like to bring you on tour more often so I wanted to see if you’d enjoy yourself first.”

“Well I certainly am enjoying myself, you don’t have to worry about that, but you know we'll have to be apart eventually when you go on tour. I can’t come on all of them, I need to work and make money to afford my apartment and my car and stuff.”

“I know that, but to have you come on even just one tour was enough for me. Getting to spend these extra six months with you, plus however long we’ll have before the next tour, is enough to tie me over when I have to leave again.”

(Y/N) giggled and leaned down to kiss Rook. His arms wrapped around her and held her tightly to him, never wanting to let go.

“You make me so happy,” he mumbled against her lips, causing her to giggle.

“You make me happy, too, baby. I am really happy to get to experience all of this with you, and I’d love to come experience it again...and again...and again. Many times I’d love to experience it.”

Rook laughed and kissed her again. She settled her head in the crook of his neck, her eyes beginning to grow heavy. Within seconds, she felt herself drifting off into sleep. Rook listened to her breathing become heavy and checked his watch, raising his arms slowly as not to wake (Y/N).

“Twenty minutes,” he whispered to himself. “I was off by ten, but I think this still means I win.”

[plush-anon]

You worked at joanns? 😍 dream job

In all fairness, a large part (and I do mean a LARGE part) of why I enjoyed working at Joanns were the managers.

The store manager was a guy named Richard, one of maybe two or three men who worked there total, and this man was practically a saint as far as retail goes.

This was a man who would, with no hesitation, get on the floor to help customers, or hop on the registers to check customers' purchases out, or pop on to the cutting counter to cut fabric. He remembered the names of regulars, would chat and smile while getting shit done, and was the type of guy to speak slowly and softly when we had shitstains explode at us measly peons for not giving them the full cost of an item back in a return (ex $200) when they used a coupon to purchase an item to begin with and only paid a portion of the cost (ex. $150). No joke, this actually happened to me on Black Friday with a man who stood at about 6 foot with a crewcut and a snarl (the military Karen, if you would)

Richard, of course, stood at about 6 foot 5 inches, and reminded me of a ginger grizzly bear in some ways. Very few customers continued to be assholes when they asked to speak to the manager and Richard came over, smiling wide. He encouraged us to chat with the customers while we worked the cutting counter - it was a good way to learn about what they were making, encouraged general conversation and lent itself to a better environment for everyone, worker and customer alike, so we weren't just awkwardly standing in silence the whole time.

The assistant store manager (aka his second in command - we had two other assistant managers, but she wielded more power than both of them) was Farrah, and she was basically Cool Wine Aunt, but with weed. She was open about smoking it (but not in a pressure-the-underlings kind of way, but more of a 'yeah, it calms me down' kind of way) but never on the clock, and was just really chill in general. She was also a 'jump on the registers' type of manager, and on occasion would take the closing staff out to get a drink from the texmex place next to us in the shopping center, and cover one for each of us - particularly during the Holiday Clusterfuck of October, November, and December (their Frozen Kahlua Mudlslide was my alcoholic drink of choice - they also had these spicy chicken strips that were amazing with it, but I digress).

Both of them were amazing people who would support and back us up without hesitation (if they weren't dealing with corporate or stock trucks coming in), and both routinely worked 15 to 20 hours UNPAID overtime during the Holiday Clusterfuck so that we the underlings could get more hours without Corporate jumping up our ass about going over budget.

They were also refreshingly upfront in our monthly meetings about profits and meeting them, as well as why company policy was the way it was, and how to work within the boundaries so we got more hours. One of my favorite moments was when they said the fabric sales essentially covered their own cost (production and delivery); the rest of the cheap crap in the store was what covered our paycheck and electricity, so hawk it as much as you can if you want extra in the bank (paraphrasing here, but that's not that far off what they actually said tbh).

With some Karen-y exceptions, the customers were honestly pretty chill. There were two women from a nearby church who bought well over 200 yards of cut fleece to make no-sew fleece blankets for children and the poor in December (it took forever to do, but they were so cheerful about it and told some funny anecdotes in between, kept the counter clear as soon as they were cut, etc. Took them three carts to haul everything to the register XD).

There was the slew of quilters making everything from baby blankets to anniversary gifts to quilts for their grandkids attending the local university that they could wear to football games in the colder weather, while still showing team pride. They always bought quarters and eighths and the end of the bolt for half price, digging thru our remnants bin for something they might have missed they could get for half price. They always talked about what they were working on, and spoke in great detail on their kids or cousins or niblings or grandkids. I saw so many pictures on phones, in wallets, and they loved them to absolute pieces.

There were cosplayers making their first costume to comicon, halloween goers trying their hand at making their own outfits, and a few furries making custom suits for order or just updating their own personal outfit. There were the usual school and church Christmas plays that needed costumes, and folks making custom table runners and place settings for family holiday meals.

One notable young man bought out 30+ yards of our 65" inch wide bolt felt for JEWELRY projects he was making as a part of his business and as a part of his art program (you can major in art with a concentration in jewelry making, and he was using it for that). He didn't leave a card, but the pictures he showed us were STUNNING.

We had a few elderly mothers come in with their daughters, to pick out fabrics so they could make their own wedding dresses, or quinceanera outfits, or veils; they showed us the patterns they had, or the pictures they were basing the designs off of, and all of them were STUNNING. (One came back in with the finished dress in the bag, this intricately beaded poofy dress that had to have taken days, hot pink and shiny).

We had local restaurant owners pop in for re-upholstery projects and curtains and vinyl; same with teachers and deck dads and furniture restoration workers that would gush about the design, what they had planned. Some would bicker with their spouses on the pattern, but it felt good-natured on the whole.

We had some elderly men come in to peer over our sewing machines - "How much it run for? My wife's birthday is coming up and her old machine's about done, and I want to surprise her. She had a Singer, but she hates the electronic screens on some of these newer ones, they hurt her eyes." - and moms coming in to sew some custom bed sheets for their kids - "My son really likes the new My Little Pony show, but he's a little shy about it. Do you think the blue's okay? Only he like yellow more, but they don't have any back there and he doesn't MIND blue really but - Actually scratch that, how wide is the fabric? My pattern says it needs to be at LEAST 22 inches wide, does it say on the box?" - and people coming up with some WILD craft ideas that were always a delight to hear them gush about - "So this MAY seem crazy, but I can turn these plastic pumpkin trick-or-treat pails into SNOWMEN heads with felt like this. We fill them with treats for the kids since we don't have a fireplace and they like it fine, but someone said I should sell these on Etsy and people really like them! But I've run out of pumpkins, and you have NO idea how happy I am that you guys still have some left."

The group we had to work with was also pretty crafty; a few were chronic call-outs, some a bit lazy, some perpetually done-with-this-nonsense, but we were mostly on the same page on shift, and all of us were crafty as heck. The employee discount was a blessing AND a curse, lemme tell you.

Stock was the best part, for me. Hours before the store opened at 9 AM, we would rip open the boxes and stuff everything onto the shelves, organizing anything the closing shift missed the night before along the way, updating new stickers or shuffling pegs over for new product arrangement, etc. We could listen to music or podcasts as we worked, and I ended up impressing some of them bc of how fast I tore through everything some mornings (the music definitely helped out there).

I was actually about to be promoted to assistant manager after 6 months, but then I got my job with the university, and they had federal health benefits AND dental, so... yeah, no contest there. Richard actually laughed when I told him I'd been hired at the university and was giving my two week notice, since it meant he didn't have to do the slew of paperwork that accompanied new assistant manager hires. He congratulated me on the job, especially the health benefits - he said that was a perk worth leaving any job here for. I nearly cried with relief that he wasn't mad.

He and Farrah chipped in and got me a small music box that plays Man of La Mancha's Dream the Impossible Dream on my last day. It still sits on my desk at work.

It was honestly my favorite retail job out of the bunch I've suffered through. Surprising at first, since I initially received a rejection email bare HOURS after my interview with Farrah, but about a month later (as I trawled endlessly through interview after interview, desperate for anything those first few months ), I got a call back from them asking if I was still interested (which I was, bc hey a job!). They remembered me specifically bc I had missed my bus to the interview, called ahead to let them know I would be late, then walked the whole way there in the rain to get there. (It was only about a mile and a half away, so not a terrible journey, but flooding is an issue in our flat-ass city; I looked like a drenched afghan hound holding a useless umbrella, so enjoy that imagery).

They were particularly impressed by the calling-ahead part.

Unfortunately, both of them ended up moving on to different paths over the year after I left - apparently they had been friends with benefits (? I say hesitantly, since I ran into one of my coworkers at an art show later on and she spilled the beans there - she was a bit flighty in nature though, and got caught up in gossip a LOT, so who knows. Lovely brocade custom projects though), and his ex girlfriend had called corporate on them and got both fired.

I think Farrah came back some time later, but the damage was done after that - the new manager came in and operated SOLELY to corporate policy. A LOT went to pieces in terms of store cleanliness, order, and general camaraderie after that - the new fabric counter folks look and sound dead inside, and barely interact with customers (not even a 'whatcha making' in passing, which is kind of sad - the stories I got helped to pass the time, and kept me from using up all of my Set Conversation Phrases for customers that actually WOULD leave us standing in silence). Corporate also stopped some of the smaller store policies that made our job easier and gave the customers a little something extra (the 'end-of-the-bolt' discount - if, after the customer orders say, 2 yards of fabric on the bolt, and there's say, a half yard "remnant" left on the bolt, we can sell them the remnant for half-price. A LOT of quilters LOVED this, and we did too, since it saved us from filling out the remnant tag and printing a sticker later on).

Just goes to show how important good management is in a business; especially when it can kick a store previously part of the top 50 stores in the NATION (while being a medium store at that - smaller place, NOT Hobby Lobby size like the Large stores) to something much less pleasant. I could be rose-goggling the situation thought - retail is still retail, no matter how nice some aspects are - but it still sticks with me as to how good he experience was even taking into account that it WAS minimum wage retail.

Food for thought, lads, food for thought.

[sunassweetie]

Already Gone.

Pairing: Suna x Osamu (Osasuna)

Word Count: 5.4k 

Genre: Pain haha :):

Disclaimer: Underage Smoking don't @ me 

Warning: I wrote this after I read the galaxy is endless. But also like major trigger warnings for a lot of various things, just know I didn't hold back. 

When Osamu was younger, he absolutely, and indefinitely, hated the idea of holding onto nothing. The idea that a person alone could hold themselves upright, and power through life on their own. Maybe it was because he had been surrounded by the welcoming arms of his family his entire life, hell the man shared a womb with his twin. There was never a time where Osamu had felt alone, and he couldn’t understand the want to ignore those who held their hands out to help. He couldn’t fathom not having a support system, or someone to help him get back up when he fell off the tracks. 

There was always someone there. Until of course there wasn’t, and only then did Osamu realize what he had meant when he said, “The world is unforgiving, you’ll always be alone even when you’re surrounded by millions of people.” 

-:-

Osamu met Suna in his first year at Inarizaki, shuffling into the lowest class, his twin in tow next to him as they moved down the corridor. He could hear people whisper, even through the speakers of his earbuds, unsure of whether or not he liked the attention him and Atsumu had been receiving the moment they stepped foot onto the school grounds. 

Are those the miya twins? 

They’re so attractive! 

I want to ask Osamu out! 

Do you think they are going to try out for the volleyball team? 

Duh, just look at them. 

Osamu could already feel an immense amount of pressure settling upon shoulders as he slipped into his designated classroom, leaving Atsumu’s side as different classes separated them. Idly walking down the aisles until his name tag placed on the corner of the desk seat number popped into his vision, cueing him to take a seat. 

It's uncomfortable, he thinks, I didn’t miss this. His notebook, that he didn’t really plan on using, took up space at his desk along with the small pouch that only contained two pens, a pencil, and extra lead. Leaning back in his chair, his hand fishes down into his pocket to pull out his phone, turning up the volume, as he checks the time. 

He has five minutes till class starts, not that he cared in the slightest. The only thing currently on Osamus mind besides his first high school volleyball practice (after guaranteeing a spot on the team months prior during his middle school scouting days) he was mostly worried about what seasonings he could add to his next onigiri batch. 

There's a loud thump next to him, his head craning to see the commotion. He’s only met with a lanky boy, shoulders broader than those Dorito chips he once saw his old school mate aran eating, and eyes slanted in a bored glare. His earbuds dangle from the neck hole of his shirt, but his large hands quickly come to pull the buds into his ears, leaning forward on the desk  and putting his arms out in front of him to use as a pillow against the hard wood of the tables. Osamu couldn’t describe the way the boy rendered him speechless, eyes staring into the boy wondrously.  

“Do you need something,” The boy says to him, pulling him from his daze, blinking twice as both boys stare at each other. 

“Sorry,” Osamu fumbles, turning forwards in his chair. 

-:-

“So these are the new first years?” The coach says next to a second year whos hair falls in front of their faces, amber eyes weaving in between each of the younger boys lined against the court. 

“There's one missing.” His voice is automatic, cool even to hear. 

 Osamu isn’t paying attention to the talk, his mind blankly staring at the nets, wondering what type of position would he be most effective in. Perhaps Atsumu would play as setter, and he could work alongside his brother, the only harmony that was ever brought into their never ending sibling rivalry. 

“Your late first year,” The coach booms as someone stumbles into the gym. This catches Osamus thoughts, his eyes following the commotion as someone goes to stand next to Atsumu. 

“Sorry, a teacher held me back.” 

“On the first day?”

“I fell asleep during announcements.” 

He falls silent as the coach goes on, explaining how the team would work and what was going to be on the agenda for the upcoming scrimmage game they were suppose to be playing against another school. But Osamu finds it hard to concentrate, looking between the tall brunette and the court. 

-:- 

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he knew, it wasn’t something he had ever realized before in his life, until the confusion of his emotions finally made him realize it. Over the year, he hadn’t just grown close to Suna as you would expect of friends. No, it was much more to Osamu then he would ever admit to Suna. 

The way his heart would beat out of his chest, or the slight sheen of sweat that would slip across his hands when he spoke to the other boy. Sometimes he hated the way he felt, wishing he could return to simpler times, when all he had to worry about was volleyball, and the next snide remark he’d throw Atsumu’s way. 

He wondered endlessly if Suna ever picked up on those miniscule hints he’d leave. Like when the team would go out for ramen after a tournament went right, and he’d always take the seat next to Suna. The same applies when traveling distances, it was an unspoken agreement that Suna and Osamu would always be paired together in the bus seats. Those little gestures when Osamu would pick a pack of Chuupets to hand to Suna at the most random times, “Saw ‘em when I was grabbing some stuff for the onigiris ‘m makin’.” Possibly when Suna forgot his team jacket on cold days, Osamu would give him his extra that made home in his locker specifically for this occasion to pop up. 

-:-

The first time that Osamu ever inhaled the hazy smoke into his lungs, he was sitting next to Suna. The dark sky towering over them, the pressure of nationals coming to cause a permanent crease in their brows. 

“Wanna hit,” He asks Osamu, as they swing back and forth in slow, repetitive motions on the empty playgrounds swings. 

“I’ve never smoked before,” Osamu admitted, somewhat shyly, embarrassed at his lack of experience in front of someone who he knew had been smoking for a while now. 

“It's up to you, no pressure,” Suna would say, taking another hit, the rolled joint limply dangling from his lips, smoke emitting from his mouth with each inhale and exhale. Osamu wants to, he wants to know the high that Suna had adored so much, the pleasure that Suna would succumb to with each passing moment.

“Teach me,” He was scared he sounded desperate, or enthusiastic. He tried his best to act as if it didn’t bother him, attempting to keep a cool façade in front of Suna. Suna looks at him with a smirk, eyes slanted and red as he hands the drug to Osamu. When Suna slips him the joint, their fingers brush by slowly, lingering momentarily. It takes a few tries for Osamu to stop coughing when he takes a hit, Suna laughing each time until he gets it. 

Osamu gets it now, the feeling Suna chases each time he comes to smoke under the stars, “Does it always feel this good?” 

“Most of the time, sometimes you might have a bad trip,” He says. 

Osamu looks at Suna, wondering when they hand ended up lying in the grass together, at the most a foot apart as they gazed up at the burning balls of fire littering the sky. He always has his earbuds in, and Osamu wonders what is always playing through them, what music accompanies the man in front of him. 

“What are ya listen’ to,” Osamu asks then. Suna looks at him, and without a word, is taking the other earbud and handing it to Osamu.

Cigarettes after Sex. 

He had been listening to Cigarettes after Sex. 

-:-  

At the beginning of their third year, Osamu caught Suna in the halls, long after the bells had dismissed everyone to return home, leaving the building empty of all noise, minus the creaks the old building would create every once in a while. 

He had been kept back by his teacher, insisting to go through his bag as he, as the teacher explained, “Reeked of weed.” However Osamu mentally praised himself for leaving his stuff at home and blaming the smell on a convenience store he had been in, addressing the owner who had been smoking that morning. Of course this was a lie, but the teacher was stupid enough to believe the pitiful lie, sending Osamu on his way out. 

He was propped against the wall, head tilted upright as he crossed his arms over his body. He looked peaceful there, with his earbuds more than likely playing some form of arctic monkeys or pearl jam. Maybe he was listening to the 1975 this time, or U2, it could have been any of them. The sunlight bounced against his complexion, soaking him in a warm bath of melanin. His hair had been slightly tousled, more than likely the job of himself constantly running his hands through his hair. 

“What are ya still doing’ here,” Osamu asked him when he had finally approached him after ogling at him for a moment down the hall. 

“I heard you got called back, figured I wait around to go to practice with you.” Suna says as if it were nothing at all. Osamu would never admit it, but it meant more to him then words would even be able to begin to describe. 

“Ya coulda gon’ to practice,” Osamu mumbles, walking in sync with Suna now. 

“Got me out of warm up laps anyways.” His words are mysterious, not that getting out of warm up laps wasn’t a common occurrence for Suna, but to wait for Osamu, it just wasn’t typical of Suna. 

It surprised Osamu even more, when the next week after finishing a test late he found Suna waiting for him in the corridor, and every time after that. 

 -:-

“Do you ever think about what's going to happen when we graduate?” Suna asks quietly next to Osamu. They had been sitting at the skate park together, smoking accumulating between the two of them, as they talk quietly though they are the only ones here under the dim lights scattered around. 

“We graduate in a week and you want to start pondering what's going to happen in life?” Osamu laughs, taking another hit, lying against the cold cement. Suna doesn't say anything, staring directly in front of him. Osamu wonders what's going on inside of his head right now, though he doesn’t feel like he has the right to know. 

“Yeah,” He hums, “ I guess you're right.” 

But his words have something hidden behind them, something that Osamu can’t describe, but it twinges a wave of fear through him. The words felt cold, distant. He wants to ask, he wants to ask so badly if he’s okay, if there's something he can do if he is not. But he bites his lip and he doesn’t ask. 

He knows Suna too well at this point from the countless nights spent smoking together, the morning practices and pairings in class. He’s been to his hand more time then you’d even be able to count. He knows every little thing, like when he starts complaining more than he normally does, it's because he’s running on an empty stomach. And if his hands start shaking, it's never because he’s cold or because he’s angry, it's because he hasn’t gotten his daily dose of caffeine, and when he goes silent, it's never because he's sad, it's simply because he has nothing left to say. He hates when people talk too much, and it irritates him when people start singing for no apparent reason other than to just sing. He loves chuupet, and volleyball, and alternative music, and smoking. And he doesn’t care about much of anything else. 

But right now, as his eyes hold back the emotions he’s suppressing within himself, Osamu can see right through it, he can see the pain lingering in his grey-yellow eyes. He knows Suna will lie to him, because Suna’s thoughts were Suna’s thoughts alone. 

-:-

Osamu hated the way that the feeling never changed. It never let up, it never ceased. It only grew until the roots had entangled so deeply he could feel it crawling into his lungs branching out in a painstakingly slow ache. Suffocating him like he was ten feet under, buried beneath the surface of platonic smiles and thoughtless gestures. 

Some days he wished he would just say it. Three words, thats all it would take to assimilate this stupid feeling he couldn’t control. Three, simple, little words that hefted the weight of the world. 

In ways, it made him angry. Why couldn’t he just say it, why couldn’t he just tell the boy how he had truly felt. It was a simple feeling, and when the rejection came it would bide Osamu the time to figure himself out, to learn how to breathe again. But maybe that was it, maybe the reason he feared telling him the hardened truth of his feelings is because he knew deep down the rejection would kill him. It would make him lose any ounce of control he had built up, it would make him see red. He had already been hanging by the shreds of thread, if he exploited himself in this way there was no going back, there was going to be no more midnight smoke sessions, no more trips to the convenience store after practice, no more movie nights, no more him. 

Osamu felt constricted by the material wrapped around his body, was it hot in here? It was just him, the pouring rain against the window fogging it with each burst of coldness proving it to just be him. With a sigh, he slips the material off of his body, and throws it to the other side of the room. He’ll pick it up later, he tells himself when it hits the wall with a thud and silently falls to the ground below. 

He knows he won’t though. The pile of laundry that had been piling for the last month tells him exactly that. 

-:-

It's sticky in here, Osamu thinks. 

Its stick, and its muddy, and its hollow. It's packed to the brim with people, it's loud and annoying and they won’t shut up over the obnoxious thumping of whatever trash was blaring through the speakers set up through the house. And it's lonely. He knows Kita and Aran are over in the corner, arguing over who is going to be the designated driver, and he sees Atsumu’s talking to some boy with a mask over his face, thought Osamu notes how the boy looks out of place and uncomfortable (he feels the way this boy looks, but he wouldn’t ever voice that outloud) and he sees Suna. 

He’s sprawled against the leather couch, there's two girls, one on each arm, stuck to him like pesky little leeches, taking hits from his joint with those agonizing high pitched laughs. They were fake, he could see it from a mile a way, and he was sure Suna could see the same, but Suna wasn’t going to complain, not when later he’d mingle his way upstairs with one, if not both of them. 

It hurt Osamu to even think about it, and now the kitchen counter seemed to be pressing into his back more evidently, more uncomfortable then it had been before. He moves quietly outside, ditching the red solo cup that had been placed in his left hand, somewhere now scattered with the array of cups lining the counter. 

His hands pressed into the rail against the outside patio overlooking the backyard. Not as many people were here this time, only the couple in the corner who resembled suction cups and the scattered druggies doing harsher things than Osamu would ever even think about trying. Osamu couldn’t explain what was happening to him right now. 

Why did that suffocating feeling seem deeper, rougher now. Why did it feel like everything was breaking down. He didn’t understand why water had been leaking from his eyes, or why his breathing had picked up in pace, or why the red bleeding feeling felt like it was going to overcome his entire being. He just wanted out, but he couldn’t move. Paralyzed into holding onto that rail, knuckles burning white as he leaned over the edge slightly, rocking back and forth on his heel. 

He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to breathe again. 

“Osamu,” He can hear the voice, but he can't make it out. It's more like white noise, like that shitty music in the background, or those girls laughing in Suna’s lap just moments ago. 

“Osamu,” He hears it again, it's louder this time, but the panic begins to trickle deeper inside of him, the rocking becoming more violent. Shaking his body in waves of unstoppable tremors, more tears relentlessly streaming down his face. 

“Osamu, hey, listen to me,” There are more words this time. He can feel someone's hand on his shoulder, he could hear the fear in their voice, as he slips further and further down this rabbit hold he can't climb out of. The world shifts for a moment however, and he feels his body slipping, he can’t tell if he’s being moved, but he feels the tugging at his wrist. The voice is yelling again, the music is louder, and Osamu can’t remember how, but somehow, someway, when he snaps from his daze, from that suffocating world of constant agony, he’s in a dimly lit room. 

Suna’s in front of him, his eyes are wide, and he has each hand on Osamu’s shaking shoulders. Atsumu is behind him, nervously biting his lip with his arms crossed against his chest in a worried manner. Kita is at the door with a glass of water, and other members of the team are hanging on at the door frame. All eyes were on him, and it made him feel even more constricted than before. 

“Make them go away,” He whispers, pulling his legs to his body, only now realizing the fetal position he had taken accustomed to on the floor. 

“Everyone out,” Suna says while standing up, pushing even his twin out the door, grumbles and groans following suit, a ‘hes my brother i should make sure he’s okay’ and a ‘he doesn’t need you to see him like this right now, it will only make him feel worse now get out’ before the room goes silent with only the bass from below shaking the floors and Suna’s shuffling from the door back over to him. 

“Are you okay,” He quietly asks, unsure of how he can help Osamu right now. 

Osamu doesn’t know how to respond, so instead he stays silent, he stays so quiet for so long he hopes that Suna will eventually get bored and take his leave. But Suna never does, he never moves from the squatted position in front of Osamu, he never takes his hand away from Osamus shoulder, he never stops the little circles he rubbing into the top of Osamu’s shoulder. 

It only hurts Osamu more, because it only makes him realize how much more in love with Suna he truly is. 

-:- 

“We did it.” Suna mumbles, kicking his feet against the wood chips surrounding the child's swing set him and Osamu had been sitting at. The sun had long since fallen, and the breeze picked up in their black graduation robes, the suits underneath the flimsy fabric enough to keep them warm. It had only been a few hours since they had been taking a plethora of pictures with family, walking across that damned stage and shaking hands with a principle they had only met enough to count on one hand alone. 

“I guess we did,” Osamu mumbles. He thinks back to only a week ago, back at the skatepark, the smoke, the atmosphere, the words that had left sunas lips that night. “Do you ever think about what's going to happen when we graduate?” 

Its only now Osamu truly understands what Suna was getting at. With one foot out the door they had their entire lives ahead of them now, bracing for impact for the true glories and misfortunes life had to offer them.

“I’m not gonna pursue Volleyball in college,” Osamu blurts, speaking softly as he watches the star twinkle in the sky. He had been thinking long and hard about this decision, fearing what the consequences may be of quitting a sport, he not only loved, but was good at. He can feel Suna’s head turn toward him. 

“Really?” 

Osamu stays quiet for a moment, “I love volleyball, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I like it as much as ‘tsumu does, and it just doesn’t feel like my calling.” 

“What feels like your calling then?” Suna is quiet. 

“Not sure yet, but I do love food. Maybe I’ll travel, learn different food cuisines, or I’ll start my own shop, who knows where life will take me.” 

Suna goes quiet, his eyes trained down into his laps as each finger picks at the other, his chunky silver rings twirling and twisting with each fumble, “What if life won’t take you anywhere.” 

It was Osamu’s turn to snap his head in the direction of the brunette, curiosity laced in his emotions. Suna won’t look up at him, instead focusing still on his rings, playing with them gently, in particular the snake slithering up his middle finger, whose emerald eyes glare up at him.

“What do ya mean by that.” 

“What if...what if life doesn’t have anything planned for you, what if you're just there to take up space.” 

“Everyone is here fer a reason Suna. Everyone has a purpose, a cause, an effect. One day, yer gonna find yer life heading in directions ya love, and directions ya hate. But there’s always gonna to be a path waiting for ya, there’s always gonna to be somebody there too, to keep ya standing, to keep ya breathing,” Osamu was sure these were the wisest words to ever push past his lips. 

Sunas eyes bore into his now, they’re still on the swings, not even the gusts of wind can move them at this moment. Suna breathes out for a moment before taking off his snake ring, and gently opens up Osamu’s fingers before placing it in his hand. 

“The world is unforgiving, you’ll always be alone even when you’re surrounded by millions of people.” 

-:- 

It was exactly 2:46 am when Osamu had been disrupted from his sleep, pulled out of bed by the crying sounds of his phone, blaring out that ringtone he wished he could just smash at the wall. 

It was exactly 2:46 am when he heard Suna’s shaky heavy breath on the other line. 

It was exactly 2:47 am when he was running out the door, his shoes half on, his keys in one hand, his brother yelling from down the hall. 

It was 2:59 am by the time he had reached Suna’s front door, smashing through it at the speed of light. 

It was 3:00 Am by the time Osamu found him, mopped up by his own saliva, foam trickling from his mouth, his body convulsing in panic rages surrounded by pools of blood seeping from his wrists and pills sprawled across the floor. 

-:- 

Osamu hated hospitals. He hated the smell of antiseptics that flowed down each hall, and the way people walked in almost pure silence. He hated the way he would see people crumble on their knees the moment the doctor came out with that look on his face. He hated that hospitals go be the center of positivity and the bane of someone's worst nightmare at the same time. 

“How did we not know he wer’ gonna do something’ like this,” He hears from next to him, and with the lull of his head and the most deadpan expression Osamu mutters, “Shut up ‘tsumu.” 

And the silence overtakes them, and the entire waiting room is filled with people. So many people Osamu knew from school, and others from when he’d go over to Suna’s house after school. The hardest, perhaps in Osamus opinion, was Suna’s little sister. Her hair was in two separate braids, flicked up in different directions as her eyes were puffed out in an angry red color, glossed over by the tears that had long ago stopped falling. She hadn’t released her bottom lip from the grip her teeth had on it, her hands moving in her lap, similar to the way Suna’s had once fumbled. 

It chokes Osamu, suffocating him, but this time it's not because of the emotions he felt towards Suna. This time it was at the numbness that began to over encumber him leaving him void of any expression. 

-:- 

He couldn’t leave the chair at Suna’s beside when no one else was in the room, he always held his hand too then, even if the wires got in the way of him holding his brittle cold hands. The snake wrapped around his index finger now, curled up against the pale flesh Suna had silently offered to him. 

He was afraid he wasn’t going to wake up. Osamu knew this situation too well, he knew he would drown in this. It was his fault, wasn’t it. He should have picked up on the cues that night, he should have picked up on the cues the week before, or the months before that. He should have known when it started, instead, he was selfish. Instead he only focused on himself, on the feelings he tried to hide from the male next to him. If only he admitted his feelings, if only he had seen the bigger picture, maybe he would have seen Suna. 

Osamu hadn’t cried yet, though he had probably been the closest to Suna, he hadn’t let a tear slip yet, afraid that if he were too, then he would never stop. He brings Suna’s limp hand to his lips, leaving his lips to gently lay a kiss at the spot where Suna’s thumb and index finger were conjoined. 

“Come back to me Suna, I have something to tell you.” 

-:- 

He never missed a day, every single morning he embedded it into his routine to check in on Suna during the following months. He was always still breathing, but never awake. His heart always pumping, but his brain shut off. 

He just wanted Suna to wake up, to hold his hand instead of the other way around, he wanted Suna to know the truth, he wanted to hold him, and this time he would never let him slip. It was a promise Osamu always wanted to make to him. 

“I’ll be back later tonight, you’re mom asked me to drop some things off at your house for her, don’t wait up,” he tries to joke, but it doesn’t ease the feeling inside of him. He looks at the motionless body, his eyes were trained on his lips. Osamu had always wondered what they felt like, but he was sure between the stone cold air of the hospital and the lack of vanilla Chapstick Osamu always saw peeking out of Suna’s bag, that right now his lips would feel bitterly chapped.

It doesn’t stop him from leaning in, to place his own against Suna, just slightly away from his lip however, and onto the silky smooth skin that lie at Suna’s cheek. 

He’d kiss him for real when he woke up. 

-:-

“The key is under the mat, Osamu thank you so much for doing this, I just...I can’t go into his room right now, I haven’t been able to for months,” Suna’s mothers voice was strained, cutting in and out from the sobs she was trying her best to hold back. 

“It’s okay Mrs. Rintarou, I’m glad to help.” 

And the line goes dead as Osamu hangs up with a simple click to the red button as his hand slips under the welcome mat to find the spare key awaiting him. He pushes the key in and the stagnant air hits him like a brick as he steps through the doorway, discarding his shoes at the front entryway. He looks down the hall, his memories flashing back to that moment, as if it were all in slow motion, like it had been happening all over again. 

Osamu shakes his head as he slowly steps down the hall, making a left before the sealed off bathroom, and walking into the room he hoped he’d never have to step into again. If he thought the front door had been a pile of bricks, then his room had to be the cement burning him into the earth. 

“Dude shut up, it was one time.” Suna laughs, throwing pieces of the popcorn from the round bowl in his arms at Osamu. 

“Oh yeah, just once,” He mimics in a sarcastic tone, throwing the popcorn back at Suna. Suna rolls his eyes and goes back to scrolling aimlessly at his phone. Osamu was lying stomach down on the floor, and angled that if Suna looked over, he would absolutely see the younger miya twin staring up at him, but how could he not when the sun was glowing so effortlessly against the boys skin. 

He could trace every curve along Suna’s defined face in this lighting, burning this image of him into the back of his skull. 

Osamu blinks, reality setting in around him that he now stood in the room alone, the basket of clothes Suna had arrived at the hospital now lying in the plastic bag, taking up needless space inside of his hospital room.  He just needed to set it in the corner and leave, that was his only job, nothing more, nothing less. 

But Osamu’s eyes flicker too far to the right, and an envelope neatly placed in the center of Suna’s desk fills his vision. He knows what it is, that's obvious enough from the placement of the paper. When his legs wander to the table, he wishes he had just turned on his heel and left right then. But when his vision is evoked with the letting of Suna’s familiar scribble and his name adoring the empty space of the white canvas, Osamu loses his control to stay strong, and the first tear falls. The second when his hands unseal the back of the envelope, the third when he pulls the letter from the pouch, and the fourth when he reads 

Dear Osamu.

Its not your fault. 

And I love you too, even though I should have said it allowed. 

I love you so dearly.

I’ve lost my fight, but please don’t lose yours. 

Suna. 

He didn’t know when the showers from his eyes began as he collapsed down to the floor, holding the letter closely to his chest as he screams out. For the first time in months, he screams out the pain blocking him, the pain consuming him. 

He doesn’t even have the time to process this information, because that ringtone flares up again, just like it had done that night. 

“H-hello?” Osamu says as he picks up, unsure of the caller id, he couldn't care to look at this point. 

“He woke up Sumu. He’s awake.” 

And just like his legs carried him out of the house that night, he’s sprint full force to his car and sliding into the driver's seat, turning the key into the ignition and speeding down the road recklessly past the stop sign. 

He should have stopped. 

-:- 

“Where’s Osamu,” Suna croaks out, it's the first thing he’s said, the vision of Osamu bleakly pulling into his memory. 

“He’s on his way, he’ll be here any minute,” Suna’s mother says, with joyous tears in her eyes. 

-:- 

“Where’s Osamu.” 

“There was an accident.” 

-:- 

Suna was wrapped in the navy blue sweater Osamu had given to him, tightly secure in the knitted fabric as his white collar shirt peeked out from the bottom of it, contrasting against his dark jeans. His long legs were wrapped up to his chest, his head softly laying in between his knees. 

“It would have been easier if I couldn’t remember you,” he whispers, “You were like a drug you know. You were heaven to have, a high I’ll never get back now that you're gone.” 

He stares at the stone in the grass carefully watching the flowers he had set up hours ago sway with the wind, “We’d probably be smoking right now, except we’d be closer. Sometimes I imagine the way it would feel to have you laid across my lap.” 

Suna can feel the tears now, “I wish I never woke up, I wish I had gone that night, you’d still be here, and it should have gone the way it was supposed to.” 

He can almost hear his words in the back of his mind. Everyone has a purpose, a cause, an effect. He sniffles slightly as he brushes his finger past his nose with his sweater hanging past his fingers, “You would have told me otherwise...wouldn’t you Osamu.” 

[euaxel]

heyyy, eonia. i’m reid, i’m twenty-three, still can’t read, and all i know about pjo is that it fucking rocks and the protag has the same learning disabilities that i do! also, i picked hypnos for this punk mainly to be mean to him and because in the hades game hypnos bullies me every time i die and i’m kiiiinda into it. hmu on discord one on one for the best plotting experience, but i’ll be around plenty to bug y’all in the gc too. you can read about bastard boy number one right here and under the cut we’ll get down to business. 

⟨ ELLIOT FLETCHER. TRANS MALE. HE/HIM. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, AXEL EVERETT is actually a descendent of H Y P N O S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-TWO year old VIDEO GAME DEVELOPMENT & COMBAT TACTICS MAJOR from BROOKLYN, USA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite WITTY & SELF-DEPRICATING.

be advised, axel’s a pretty heavy character.  i’m gonna keep it brief for the bio & need-to-knows, tag around the parts with bold applicable triggers so you can skip around as needed, and tag this post accordingly, but just let me know if i miss anything and i’ll fix it & be safe reading. godspeed and i apologize in advance for bringing you all my personal punching bag as my first muse. 

the main triggers that are gonna come up are: parental abuse, alcoholism * major, mentions of bullying, drowning * major, religious trauma, and drug abuse with some harder drugs ( particularly, weed, pills and cocaine / nothing with needles. )

general stats. 

— full name ,  axel harley everett.  — nicknames/alias ,  axe, ax, wolverine jr, tyler durden jr, trouble, Who? - every professor he’s ever had. — house,  hypnos and mad about it.  — age, 22, as of today. also mad about it.  — gender,  trans male.    — pronouns,  he/him.  — sexual orientation, bisexual with a somewhat heavy masc lean.  — d.o.b, january 1st, 1999. ( generally unknown to anyone but maybe siblings, he will probably lie and say Nobody Knows... I Just Am unless he really fucks with you. ) — hometown,

phys. 

— height,  5′0ft even. furious about it. — eyes,  brown. — hair, brown.  — face claim, elliot fletcher.

misc.

— zodiac,  capricorn. — alignment,  chaotic good. — character inspo,  lip gallagher, steve rogers ( young ), ellie from tlou1, logan howlett, stiles stilinski ( if anyone says shit i will scream ), probably someone from euphoria but i’m too scared to watch that, peter parker ( andrew garfield ), shinsou hitoshi, finn mertens, marceline the vampire queen, dipper pines, this is all over the place but it’s there.  — most played spotify songs, passion for publication by anarbor, sober haha jk unless by hospital bracelet, nobody by mitski, class of 2013 by mitski, king princess’ cover of monster from adventure time, way too much phoebe bridgers, in love or whatever by future teens, and the entire front bottoms discography but especially in sickness & in flames with the hard way & bus beat well at the top of his loop.  — aesthetics,   bloody knuckles, left open and tipped over prescription bottles, walking on the carpet with socks to get that tingly feeling, skateboarding inside, dozing off at the bar, tangled legs in messy sheets, ten pillows on a twin sized mattress, laying down in the shower, brian sella’s cracky singing voice. 

bio. 

— axel was born and raised in brooklyn, new york, and he was claimed at thirteen, on his thirteenth birthday, by hypnos. — the day he was claimed, axel ceased contact with his human mother and his step-dad, and he attended a camp for half-bloods that wasn’t far from home. he spent his adolescence there year round for safety from monsters at home and abroad, then moved on to eonia.  — ( parental abuse tw, drowning tw begin ) i don’t want to be too graphic here so i’m going to plainly say that axel’s mother was a very, very bad person, and the man she married was absent at his best, physically abusive at worst. axel’s powers (  hypnokinesis, namely )  were potent and difficult to control at a young age, and as a deeply religious catholic woman, this scared his mother and influenced most of the animosity in their relationship. she was convinced that the defensive visions he created and his ability to put her to sleep ( an attempt to help her, on his end; insomnia plagued her and later, it would him, too ) were of demonic origin, and tried to drown him more than once; cleansing, she claimed. the worst instance was the day he was claimed, actually — new years day, 2012; his life was saved by hypnos, and that was the last he saw of her.   ( parental abuse tw, drowning tw end. )  —  that said, he’s a little ( very ) hydrophobic. poseidon kids do NOT fucking interact ( i’m kidding. kind of. he Will avoid a little though ) —  anyway! moving on. all of this aside, axel did his best to put his past behind him, and he was actually super stoked to learn that his powers came from somewhere good and that there was places out there for kids like him; to learn he wasn’t any kind of monster. ( still working on believing that, though.. marcelines monster.mp3 right here )  — he’s less stoked when he starts having trouble falling asleep, and really, it feels like a more cruel twist than any other fate has thrown at him ( his upbringing was chock full of mean twists, so that’s saying something ); and really, it’s more like insomnia just full on kicks in, but he can put other people to sleep. great, right? whatever, though — combat classes are kickass and he’s surrounded by babes that think he’s hilarious so things could be totally, way worse.  — ( bullying tw (brief) ) for the most part, axel was pretty well liked among his peers. he was bullied as a young kid (pre-claim), but he bit back and he bit back hard, and sure, some of that followed him into his teen years but he’s more confident by then; less fun to poke at, and absolutely unhinged when provoked, so people learn better of it. the only real lasting effect was one instant that hit him a little too deep in the inferiority, when he was seventeen — he fell in love with a girl, told her that, and found himself at the end of a very mean spirited prank. he shook it off like he did anything else, or at least — he told himself he did, even if the hurt hit him somewhere a little too deep rooted ( ie. being god’s most unlovable son would naturally land him here, right? ) love’s kinda stupid anyways, so what the hell, right?  (bullying tw end.)

— ( alcoholism tw, drug use tw begin ) this is already obscenely long so i’m just going to keep it to the point here and say he began drinking when he was sneaking booze in to camp at fifteen, and it just never stopped there. he’s also a massive stoner, which is all well, harmless and good for the most part; he’s always grinning, half-lidded, and has a room full of smoke at any given time. it’s the pills that do him in, and he did them at first just so he could get some shut eye, and... well. after that, because he’s dependent on them. but he keeps this part under wraps for the most part; it doesn’t have to be anyone’s problem but his, and it’s not a problem until it is one. partying’s fun, so is coke; so is taking a few too many xan’s, mdma.   ( alcoholism tw, drug use tw end )

FUN FACTS!!! 

— i swear he is not as doom and gloom as he sounds from the bio, and yeah, writing that made me so sad i feel like we absolutely must hone in on the fun and cute things about him!?!  — he loves dnd. he can talk about it for HOURS and if you let him, he absolutely will. — adventure time makes him cry. he’s a baby don’t let him fool you.  — very into cryptids, aliens, horror stories, conspiracy theories, in love with ryan from watcher, wanna be shane medej.  — he loves to draw! the one thing he loves about his power is what it’s done for his imagination, and sure, he mostly draws horror things, but it’s why he went into video game development. he wants to be a concept artist.  — his double major is in combat tactics because he loves fighting. he thinks it’s so fun. he’s a little nuts, actually — i mean, get hit in the face and come up grinning. all he’s ever wanted is to run a fight club and be the shortest, baddest little bitch on the planet.  — he tends to nod off in weird places because he doesn’t sleep enough at night, which is sad, but; he can seriously fall asleep anywhere. standing up, in a tree, you name it.  — he’s a hobby musician! he loves singing and playing guitar.  — he’s a huge flirt.  — loves to scare people. he’s harmless, though. like, honestly. he might make you think you’re seeing a walking toadstool but he’ll probably apologize later.  — he’s very much a singing in the shower type?  — clothes thief. friends and significant others beware.  — actually, just kind of a thief? but of weird, little things. like, just the left shoe. puts them in a little corner in his room that he has set up like an exhibit. “things you thought you lost lol” is written on the whiteboard on the wall above it. he likes collecting rocks too. he’s a little freak!!  — he’s better at the memory retrieval part of his power than the rest. naturally, as this mostly applies for other people. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS. im literally so tired of hearing myself talk... 

friends/squad. self explanatory!!!  he’s friendly, a class clown, and a loyal friend through and through; he’s also adaptable, and his demeanor is very relaxed and inviting. he’s probably gonna have 2-3 people that he’s really close with, and he’d do quite literally anything for them. seriously, don’t tempt him.  a best friend.  so this is kind of vague but. i’d really love for him to have one person that is just a tier above the rest? they’d know things about him that are like pulling teeth to find out ( aka, anything deeper than his most recommended podcasts and loudmouth opinions on non important things ), someone who will call him on his shit, and maybe take care of his stupid little self when he gets too fucked up, because they’d be someone he trusts enough to let them.   enemies?    he probably gets along with most people until given a reason not to? but he is a loud mouth and if one of his friends gets into drama, he will stick his nose where it doesn’t belong and he will throw hands, so it could happen.

harmless rivalries. maybe even steamy ones. he’s a little shit and he likes banter so, so, so much? if given the opportunity and if someone rubs him a certain type of way, he’s so not above being a menace, although never super maliciously. just, you know, annoying the shit out of them on purpose, for fun. he’s also not above blowing a few kisses their way.

current hookups. self explanatory too. he’s a little harlot. HFBHVFNJ. it’s gonna be kinda hard to go beyond sex with him because he’s very deep in his own insecurity but he does catch feelings, he’s just mad about it when he does. i’m mostly gonna go off chem for that though! an ex. could be on friendly terms? but, it should be noted that he could’ve ghosted someone too; or pulled from the relationship when things got serious and he couldn’t choke out that ‘i love you’, even if he felt it. worse, if he did choke it out, but they didn’t feel the same way.  siblings. hypnos kids he is gonna be so protective of all of u... family is hard for axel, i’m ngl, but he really wants one is the tragedy of it all, i guess? so he just really wants to be a good brother. he thinks hypnos is kind of a dick for making him but he tries not to fault him for his existence. fuck u dad i dont wanna be alive feels a little unfair. HDBHFDSJ. anyways he’s a good brother even if he is absolutely so reckless and terrifying in regards to himself but his siblings. his siblings he will do anything for. ALSO!!! FOUND FAMILY!!!! it would be kinda nice if he bonded with someone a little older maybe, could be outside of the hypnos house even, someone he’s kind of a bratty-little-brother type with.... or bratty older brother that takes your things and makes you laugh, y’know. 

PERSONALITY.  just tacking this part of the app on at the end too to highlight parts that i think are important for understanding who he is, and just so it’s all in one place!

toothy grins, half-lidded eyes, and keepin’ them laughing is what it’s all about, baby. axel walks with more confidence in his posture than he’s earned ( or claimed, for that matter ), and it’s the backbone of what gets him by. he’s a glowing example of the fake it ‘til you make it mentality, and he knows what he wants, usually how to get it, and doesn’t mind letting you know that. there’s an ever present mischievous glint in his eyes that says more about what to expect from him than he does, and that’s still not much? he likes to have fun, and there isn’t a whole lot of regard for righteousness or responsibility on his end, but hey! it’s usually only ever at his own expense, so what’s the damage? he’s an absolute clown and he knows it.

axel loves people. he does — you might not guess that with how elusive he is, but it’s true. there’s nothing he likes more than a good conversation with someone interesting, or maybe not even then; if there’s a sparkle in you, he’ll see it. ( might even draw it, not that you’d ever know. ) he’s warm, loyal, compassionate, relaxed, and understanding; and none of that is at the cost of being passive, or lacking passion. 

as long as the vibes are right, he’s happy to just be; though, he’s known to have a fuse for certain provocations, and will jump readily at chance to fight in someone else’s honor. also, it’s not unlike him to spar for the sake of sparring; but that’s all in good fun, no worries.

there’s no way to sugarcoat it — axel has an inferiority complex. where that stems from is something he’s more self-aware of than he’s willing to admit, but he doesn’t have the patience or the will to dissect it; much less do anything about it, and he’s as bull-headed as they come — especially regarding anything related to the psyche. how much this impacts his demeanor and relationships with others varies on the situation, but one constant is that he’s going to retreat before things get bad; even if ‘things are getting bad’ exists only as his own paranoia-born hypothetical.

things can’t go bad if you don’t let them, and he’s content to keep it that way; even if it means being stuck in the stasis of missed opportunities. it’s when he’s retreating into himself that he can get irritable, anxious, jumpy; secretive, defensive, even. he’s personable until he isn’t, essentially.

[irwintry]

Black Leather

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drugs

Summary: Calum is in a small band in the mid-90s, and Y/N stumbles into his show one weekend in October.

Word Count: 7k

Among the sea of eyes, his were the ones that stood out.

The bus had stopped by too soon. In the four minutes it took to walk to the stop, you were running instead, lungs heavy while hot coffee sloshed onto your jeans. After twenty minutes passed, you were headed down Broadway on the 68 bus, your fingers twitching against your knees to the sounds of morning commuters. You were late. You were so fucking late.

The sprint to Sever Hall hadn’t been worth the energy. It hadn’t been worth the splattered burn, red splayed in dripped shapes against your thigh. It hadn’t been worth the asthma induced, cross-country sprint, one that left you wheezing in the hallway outside of your classroom. When you stumbled into the room, it was a hundred-eyed gaze, and you soon realized you had been better off skipping altogether.

“Sorry,” you breathed out, holding your chest high as you met each pair of eyes staring you down.

He had been looking at you. His lips were tugged into an unfamiliar smile while his dark brows rose in surprise. It wasn’t an appearance he wore often, and it kept you frozen in place. You were used to the frown and the rigid stare.

You managed a small smile in his direction before finding a seat toward the back.

You knew his name. You knew his face. You knew that he had come from outside of the states. But that was the gross extent of your knowledge of Calum, other than the dingy attire and the fact that he was more brilliant than you would ever know. He spoke in class on the rare occasion, and the words that flowed from his lips were dripping in pure gold.

And on the back page of your notebook, you kept his quotes in black ink. You wrote what you could hear through his soft mumbles, and you wondered why he kept so quiet with a mind as beautiful as his.

He kept his nose in a book. You spent the last month and a half studying him when you could, mentally tracing over the creases in his skin when an unsettling opinion was spoken in class. You thought about how bright his smile was despite having never seen it. You thought about how his deep brown eyes would look in the sun. You thought about his taste in music, and you wondered if you would ever know him the way you longed to.

You were caught up in your daydream when his eyes flickered over. His stare pulled you out from the swirling headspace, and you were quick to regain your involvement in the professor’s voice. Yet, despite the collected exchange, you could still feel his gaze. It was a heavy and mysterious gaze, the kind that elicited unwarranted shivers. But you didn’t mind it. The sensation sparked desirable nerves.

The next fifty minutes were spent in a distracted haze. Even the tragedy of Oedipus could not compare to the hope of delving into Calum’s personality. He was well reserved, and you ached to crack his code. You ached to be the source of his rare smiles.

That had been the reason behind your abstracted mind. He had smiled when you walked in.

You wondered about it for the next few hours, your brain preoccupied as you absentmindedly stepped around leaves on the pathway. You kept your head low on your way to Sage’s while the crisp wind nipped at any exposed skin. Scuffed shoes met shallow puddles along the pavement, and you were careful to avoid muddy spots against the lawn. The pole of posters beside Hollis Hall suddenly tore you out of the moment.

You looked beyond the anti-gentrification and political agenda signs. You looked beyond club meetings and tutor session invitations. The one poster that caught your eye was crumpled and torn, and it read:

Knight Knuckles. Slip Tit. Mudslide. Killed for Casualty.

8pm, Oct. 13th. $2 Coverage.

87 Linden St, Allston, Mass.

You reached around for your backpack, pulled out your notebook, and wrote down the address. You weren’t going to go, you told yourself. It wasn’t your scene–– it would never be. You shut the notebook and stuffed it back into your bag, mind returning to thoughts of Calum and the sandwich you were about to indulge in. To finish your day, you made small rounds through Harvard Square and stopped by the poetry shop to further indulge in unlikely necessities. All thoughts of Calum ceased.

-

The back door was cracked open. A few guys sat on the steps before it, each with a cigarette in hand and a beer in the other, and they were laughing at some offensive joke while you stepped around them. They weren’t worth the hassle of arguing against–– they would simply make their opinions overshadow yours with the use of their superiority complexes. So, you stepped inside, and the hot air swelled around you.

About a dozen strangers crowded into the small kitchen, and another few were cramped into the living room. The home was void of any furniture, but you weren’t shocked. The squalid interior with its spray-painted walls and missing floorboards was proof that hardly a soul lived here. At least, you hoped.

You slipped two dollar bills into a jar, and a man with an eyebrow piercing grabbed your hand and stamped a bright red mark onto it without saying a word.

“Watcha want there, Maggie May?” asked another man. He was leaned up against the fridge, and he had a few piercings as well.

You rolled your eyes. “Eat my ass.”

The girl beside him snorted. “He wants to know what you want to drink,” she said. “Also, I love you. I’m Tori.”

“Hey, yeah, you too,” you sighed out, slipping your jacket from off of your shoulders. The discomfort was evident. “Y/N. Not Maggie May. And, what do you have?”

“Mostly just Pabst,” she replied and tilted her own beer your way. “Beer and stuff.”

You nodded. “I’ll take that.”

Tori lightly shoved the man away from the fridge to retrieve a beer for you. When your fingers brushed, she smiled. “What brings you here, then, Y/N? It’s usually the same crowd ‘round here.”

“Dunno,” you mumbled. “Don’t usually come to a lot of stuff like this, so I figured I’d give it a shot. It was kind of a last-minute decision.” You popped the drink open and took a sip. The taste was foul and cheap, yet you kept the sweating can close to your chest.

“Makes sense,” replied Tori. Her eyes narrowed, and it felt as though she was reading you like an open book. “Do you even know anybody here?”

You shook your head. “Not a soul.”

“Cool.” She grinned. A few people made their way downstairs. “See you down there, Maggie May. I’ll dedicate the first song to your poor, lost soul.”

You had begun to retaliate when she left your company, and you soon followed the pack down the narrow steps into the basement. The first level was Barbie’s Dream House in comparison. Down below, you were met with concrete floors and a harsh smell of piss and weed. A make-shift space was filled with boxes and trash bags, plus a stained futon over in the corner. Christmas lights were hung around pillars beside the performance space, and wires were scattered like snakes over empty boxes of Marlboro. You could only imagine how much turmoil the oriental rugs below the drum kit had been through. You pushed through bodies and stood below a mural, meanwhile admiring the glossy eyes of handsome strangers beside you. A cute man offered you a joint, and you politely refused.

The first band was ear blood, but you recognized the need for courtesy. You nodded along to the screeching noises, wishing you had bought earplugs specifically for the occasion. The second band’s sound had little representation, yet the tunes were simple, and the lyrics were crude. The can of Pabst was warm against your skin. A half-hour later, the third band had finished their set. Tori fulfilled her promise of dedicating her song to you, and you greeted the feeling of eyes like an old friend.

You leaned against the cinderblock wall and ran your fingernails along the rim of your beer. The night had been going on for longer than expected. You needed to use the bathroom as well, but you wouldn’t be caught dead using it here. A stinging dissonance filled the tight space, and you returned your gaze onto the final band.

And then your eyes met a familiar figure. A tall, mysterious figure with an infamous leather jacket stretched across broad shoulders. Small, dark hand tattoos stood out against his brown skin.

“Yeah, uh, we are Killed for Casualty,” spoke the lead singer. His voice was soft, just like the golden curls that framed his face. You had a feeling you would like this band. “Let’s fucking rock, then.”

A series of blaring chord progressions filled the small space, and the crowd came back to life. The crash cymbals drowned out the lead singer’s voice, but you hardly cared about the quality of the music. You hardly had the energy to enjoy the melody when all you could focus on was the man behind the bass. All you could see were his furrowed brows and his deep frown. His eyes shut tight as his body swayed with the beat.

You hid behind shoulders. You hid behind the thought of his smile and sweet voice melting against your skin. His lips touched the mic every time he sang, and you couldn’t look away. Calum had a light aura–– it didn’t matter what clothes or expression he wore. You saw another part of him, yet you didn’t even know him.

You nestled rim of your beer beneath your front teeth while you moved with the crowd, head bobbing along to songs you had heard on the radio before. There were songs you didn’t recognize, too, and those were the ones Calum lost himself in. So, you lost yourself in them as well.

“Holy shit, you guys are awesome,” said the other guitarist. His light fringe was surely a sight, but you admired his adrenaline. He had a bubbly, boisterous attitude that you longed to have in your life.

Calum’s face lit up as his eyes scanned the crowd. You hadn’t assumed he would ever see you, but the world froze when he did. Your blood ran cold as his smile fell, and you were seconds away from slipping into a fit of self-doubt before his smile grew again. And then he winked.

He had winked at you and resumed with the set as if it never happened.

You hugged your jacket against your body, heart stuttering at the thought of his flirtatious nature directed toward you. You had finally seen his genuine smile, and you had been the reason behind it, too. The music was drowned out by the thoughts in your head.

“Thanks, guys,” said the lead singer, his eyes bright as he spoke. “I’ve been Luke. That’s Calum on bass. Ryan on drums. Michael on guitar. We’ve been Killed for Casualty. Thanks for comin’ out.”

You took a deep breath, meanwhile, the crowd thinned out as the band packed up their things. You made your way along with the strangers, yet your plans to duck out were torn to shreds by a tap on your shoulder. The tap was quick–– almost as if it had been a mistake, but when you turned to face the culprit, Calum stood before you. And he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t expect t’see you here.”

You shrugged. “Figured there was no better way to spend a Saturday night other than listening to music I’ve never heard before in my life.”

Calum laughed. “Oh, c’mon. I’m sure you’ve heard of Radiohead.”

“Oh, duh.”

His smile never died. He was looking at you, truly looking at you with crinkly eyes that you wanted to get lost in. “We–– uh, we have another show next weekend. It’d be sick if you came.”

“Yeah?” you asked, raising a brow, to which he reciprocated your gesture. “You really want me to come? Do you even know my name?” Your teasing tone hardly fazed him.

“Course,” he said. “You’re Y/N, and you’re almost always late to our Tragedy in Literature class. Like, always late.”

You pouted. “Don’t blame me. Blame the MBTA,” you replied, and he laughed.

“I always blame the MBTA.”

“It’s really the worst, isn’t it?” you asked him, and you felt yourself softening into the comfort of the conversation. In a matter of hours, you would be convincing yourself that the encounter never happened.

Calum’s smile was contagious. “Fucking awful. A man farted on me once on the red line.”

“You’re–– you’re kidding,” you said, but you soon fell into a small fit of laughter once he shook his head. “Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“Speaking of awful––“ Calum pointed down to the empty Pabst in your hands. “Is that what they’re handing out? Christ–– Kev’s gotta get a raise. That shit sucks.”

“It was kind of disgusting,” you said, yet you shrugged it off.

“So, I gotta finish packing stuff up,” said Calum, “but listen–– it was really cool to see you. Hope you can make it out next time.”

Your lips twitched into a smile. “Only if you promise to dedicate that last song to me,” you replied. “It was my favorite.”

Calum grinned. “You’ve got yourself a promise, babe.”

-

The bus had been early again that following Monday. So, for the second class in a row, you were stumbling in late. Only a few heads turn in your direction, and immediately, you looked for the pair of deep brown eyes that made your heart flutter. You had only spoken to him once, but it had been enough to haunt you throughout the next day. It had been enough to spark something you hadn’t felt for anyone in years.

You found Calum in a heartbeat, and he had already been looking at you. He had already been smiling at you. You smiled in return and took your seat.

He spoke up once during class, and you placed the delicate words at the back of your notebook. After the class ended, you were quick to stand, heart racing at the thought of his smile so cute and goofy. You were too preoccupied to notice the man falling in step beside you.

“Like I said––” he began, voice so golden and smooth that you believed it belonged on the radio. The idea of Calum as a newscaster was a vision to behold. “––always late.”

You playfully hit his arm, and his laughter echoed around the halls. You were certain it was the kind of laugh that birthed fairies. “The bus system sucks,” you replied. “It’s the earliest one I can get, and it’s never on time.”

“Jus’ messing with you, love,” he said. His presence intimidated you, but it was the kind of intimidation that you never wanted to leave. It created the desire to hold him by the waist and carry him with you wherever you went. “Where ya off to?”

“I was gonna pop in Widener for a small study break,” you said, tugging your sleeves down so you could hold onto them with your fingers. “Then I usually get lunch before my last two classes of the day.

Calum huffed. “Mid-terms got you tickin’, too?”

“Something like that.”

“Harvard wants us all dead,” mumbled Calum as he held the front doors of the hall open for you. “That’s what I think.”

You had been expecting a chill from the morning, but the bright sun kept the air warm. You pushed the sleeves of your sweater back up your arms, and you stared at Calum in amazement. “You want yourself dead,” you said. “Do you ever get hot in that damn thing?”

“What, my jacket?” he asked, tilting up the leather as a smile grew. “It’s not about sweat, baby, it’s about fashion.”

Baby. You laughed the pet name off.

“’sides,” he continued. “It’s not about how hot I feel either. It’s about how hot I look.”

“I mean, yeah, it looks good.”

Calum raised a brow. You enjoyed watching his reactions out of the corner of your eye.

“But I always say that comfort comes before fashion,” you said as you kicked a few fallen leaves on the path before you.

He let out a chuckle. “Is that why you’re rollin’ in late with some big ass sweater on every day? Hell, you’re already late, so you could at least have the decency to show up with a coffee.”

“Honestly, I’ve thought about that,” you said. “And what do you have against big ass sweaters, huh?”

Calum shook his head. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

“Maybe next time I’ll wear a black one,” you replied. “Maybe then you’ll appreciate my fashion.”

“Can’t believe I’m being attacked at eleven o’clock in the morning.”

“You had it coming.”

He laughed again. “You don’t need t’wear black for me to appreciate you, love.”

The words warmed your chest. You smiled. “Well, I said my fashion, but it’s nice to know you appreciate me, Cal. Is–– is that okay? If I call you Cal?”

“Yeah,” he said. His smile hadn’t faltered throughout the entire conversation. “Reserved that nickname just for you.”

“Do you have any other classes today?” you asked him and placed yourself onto the steps of the library. You were still a few inches shorter at best. “Because you can join me if ya want.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, “but unfortunately, I’m already running late.”

Your jaw dropped as you laughed at his words. “And you make fun of me for being late. We’re gonna get kicked outta this fuckin’ school.”

Calum laughed along with you, and the sound was music. Everything about him was music. “I make fun of you because it’s cute to see you flustered.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you muttered, but your smile only grew. And so did your heart, too.

His eyes were golden in the sunlight, and they shimmered when he smiled. Sometimes, when he grinned so wide, his eyes squinted shut, and the sight left you woozy. You wondered if he knew how beautiful he was.

“See you ‘round, love,” he said to you, meanwhile taking a few steps back.

“Don’t forget about my dedication,” you replied. “I’m only coming this weekend because of you.”

Calum winked. “I won’t, darlin’. Study hard.” He turned down the path with a final wave, and you let out a sigh. And your smile carried on.

-

“You weren’t in class on Wednesday.”

That next weekend, you stepped off of the bus in Allston, your jean jacket hugged tight to keep warm down the tired streets behind music halls. The home was familiar, and it was packed full again. The bodies no longer stared at you like a stranger, but they still avoided you like one. Yet, Tori was there to keep you company as the night carried on.

You kept an eye out for Calum. The basement rocked with sound, air heavy as it filled with heat and smoke. The Christmas lights made you feel at home, yet none of it mattered when the one person you wanted to see wasn’t even there. So, you swayed to music from new bands you didn’t care about, wishing you hadn’t been stupid enough to fool yourself over a guy.

But, like always, he arrived when you least expected.

Tori gave you a wink and stepped away.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, chuckling. Meanwhile, his band had begun preparing their instruments. “I forgot I wasn’t.”

“You okay?” Calum asked you. “I can get ya the notes if you want.”

“I’m—oh wow, that’d be nice, thank you.” You grinned. “Yeah, um, I’m good. Turns out my alarm clock is a goner, so...”

Calum smiled. He was wearing a flannel tonight, and you decided that he could make trash bags look good. “Damn alarm clocks can’t be trusted.”

“They really can’t.” You eyed the rest of his band and furrowed your brows. “No drummer tonight?”

He glanced over at his friends before looking back at you. “Nah. We’re looking for a new one right now.”

You tilted your head.

“Ryan broke his wrist.”

“Oh, that sucks,” you said. “He was pretty good.”

Calum shrugged, but you could tell he was upset. Tonight, he had become the backbone of rhythm. “Yeah, well. Mike thinks he has a friend who knows some other drummer. He might be able to help out.”

“He just has to do my song justice,” you replied with a smirk. You hardly remembered the song, yet you knew it was your favorite of theirs no matter what. It was your favorite because Calum had winked at you before it, and it was all you could think about.

He nodded. “I’ll make fuckin’ sure of that.” He looked back over to his friend. “I should probably join them, then. Last song is yours,” he said, a grin spreading as he sent a wink your way.

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before he was jogging off and picking up his bass effortlessly. You weren’t sure how an instrument could make someone look so handsome, yet there he was, looking like the best damn man in the room.

“He’s fucking in love with you,” said Tori from behind. Her voice crept up your spine, and you yelped.

“Jesus,” you breathed out.

She laughed. “Cool your tits, Maggie May.”

“They’re ice-cold,” you replied. “And he’s not. We only just met last week.”

Tori shrugged. “You can totally fall in love in a week. He’s done it before.”

“He’s done it before?” you asked. The music blasted, and the bodies around you jumped and pushed. You hardly budged. Soon, you were shouting over Luke’s voice just to talk. “You know him?”

“Old friend,” she said over the music. “I’ve known him since like–– how many years ago was ’88?”

“Uh, seven.”

“I’ve known him for about seven years,” Tori continued. “He was a cute teen. Moved from Australia and played a shit ton of soccer. We started a band together in our last year of high school, but then he kinda disappeared for a year afterward. Came back and said he was going to Harvard–– said he had been with this girl. So, I assumed they broke up.”

You nodded along as she spoke.

“Anytime he’s with someone,” she carried on loudly, “it’s like he’s head over heels. He tries to act all shy and cool until you really get t’know him. And it’s pretty fuckin’ clear he really wants to know you.”

You tried to smile, but something about her words made it hard. Because you had never wanted to think about him loving someone else.

“You seem spooked.”

You shook your head. “Not spooked. Just a little in disbelief.”

Tori let out a laugh. “Why? Because I think he likes you? So hard to believe that?”

You shrugged.

“He is pretty damn cute,” she said. “So, if you hurt him, I’ll hunt you down.”

“You can hold me to that,” you replied. “I don’t wanna hurt him.”

“But you do want him?”

You nodded.

“Oh, hell fucking yeah.”

You laughed as she nudged you, and you soon returned your focus to Calum. His eyes met yours right away, and he smiled. This time, the fluttering in your stomach had become a heavy swarm, and you allowed it. You welcomed it.

The stress of the evening slipped off of your shoulders the more you danced. You no longer worried about what you would say to him or the words you had said in the past. You no longer worried about the feelings you wanted to repress. It was new, it was natural, and you wanted to deserve his company. You wanted to earn him.

When the final song approached, Calum kept his gaze on you, eyes brightening every time they met yours. His shy smile had etched itself into your brain. All he had to do was look your way, and you were his–– there was no one else. No one else in the room but you and him.

This stuff didn’t happen in a week. It never worked like this. But you blocked out the harsh noise of your pessimistic thoughts. You weren’t bound to doom what could be good because of your insecurities.

“This next one is dedicated to the person who thinks that 9:15 is the new 8:45. Or the one who just doesn’t bother showing up to class at all.”

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching while his face broke out into a grin. The song began after the silent exchange, and he kept looking at you. He looked at you until the crowd had dwindled and the music faded with their heads. He looked at you as if he had been waiting to have every ounce of your attention.

“Kicked ass,” you said, “as usual. You were a little flat at the end there, though.” Your teasing tone lightened while you crossed the floor toward him.

“Oh, really?” he asked you. He zipped the case of his bass closed and lifted it over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were a music critic. I’ll do better next time.”

You chuckled. “You better.”

Calum adjusted the strap on his shoulder, and you admired the comfort in his appearance. You wondered how he would react seeing you in the gray flannel he wore currently. He no longer intimidated you, not like he used to; you lost yourself in the strength of his gaze.

“You live around here?”

You shook your head. “I live down past Central.”

Calum raised his brows in surprise. “Shit, you live that far?” He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s why you’re rollin’ up late every damn day then, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh. “It’s not that bad, though.”

His frown deepened. “I can keep ya company if you want.”

“Well, where do you live?”

“Like, a ten-minute walk from here,” he replied. “I’m a night-owl, so it’d be no problem. Only i-if you’re–– if you’re comfortable with that.”

You smiled once he stammered, and he blinked rapidly to cover up the fault in his words. Your heart was swelling. “Really nice of you to offer,” you said, “but you don’t need to go out of your way. The ride goes fast.”

Calum nodded, lips tugging into a small smile. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you mumbled. “But you can walk me to the bus stop if ya want.”

His face lit up in an instant.

-

The next show was at a new location.

Calum came to you that Monday with a torn flyer, hands shaking as he reached over your shoulder while you walked down damp pathways. You were going to arrive on time that day, and you were eager to rub it in his face until he stumbled up behind you. He appeared nervous to talk to you, yet the words he spoke were calm and collected.

“New place,” you observed, eyeing the messy letters. Meanwhile, Calum caught up in step beside you. “Looking forward to it.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’ll come?”

“You think I wouldn’t?”

A grin spread on his face. Later on, he sat next to you in class.

That following weekend, you arrived at the house alone, bones shivering while the cold air crept under your skin. Calum stood at the base of the driveway with a cigarette in hand, and he was smiling like he always did when he saw you. Like he always did.

“Hey, Maggie May,” he said.

You groaned as you nearly fell into him, and he grabbed your arm to hold you steady. He smelled of cigarette smoke and earthy cologne. “Not you, too. Isn’t the song about a cougar?”

Calum shrugged and loosened his grip. But it was slow, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. “Who knows?” The cigarette slipped from his fingers, and he stomped it into the pavement. “Come on in. I wanna introduce you to the guys.”

“Oh, the guys?” you asked, chuckling. “Did know we were there yet. I’m honored.”

He looked back at you while he led you in through the back door. “You should be. They’ll like you, though. You’re cool, I guess.”

“That’s convincing.”

Calum laughed. He walked you beyond the men asking for coverage fees at the front, giving them subtle nods while you avoided eye contact. You continued to keep your head down low as he led you down to the basement. The house layout was similar, yet the room was larger, and the lights around the posts were purple bats instead. A few familiar faces were passing around a joint beside the drumkit.

“Hey, idiots,” said Calum. He placed a hand between your shoulder blades. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Luke, Mike, and Ashton.”

“The new guy,” you spoke softly, eyeing the strong arms of the stranger across from you. You could tell that, just by his build, he was going to rock the house. “Why are you all so fuckin’ tall?”

The new drummer, Ashton, laughed. His smile was the type to light up the entire room. “Maybe you’re just fuckin’ short,” he retaliated.

Michael chuckled along. “Ya probably need a step ladder jus’ to hug Cal.”

“She can’t even do that,” said Luke. “Her arms aren’t long enough.”

You narrowed your gaze. “Touché.”

Calum’s hand slid down to the small of your back. His touch burned through your clothes. “Okay, that’s it. Y’all can find a new band.”

“Are you leaving us, or are you kicking us out?” asked Michael. He placed the joint between his lips.

“Kicking all of you out,” said Calum, and he tugged the joint away from his friend. “It’s just me now.” He turned to you. “You wanna join my band?”

“Are you kidding?” You leaned into him, and he pulled your closer, hand finding your waist while he gazed down at you. His eyes were warm, and there was something new. Something hidden behind the crinkles that seemed to never cease when around you. Like you could finally feel everything Tori was telling you about. “Can I take Luke’s place?”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, snagging the burning joint from Calum’s fingers before taking a hit. “No more for you.”

A handful of people made their way down the steps, their voices carrying through laughter and drunken screams. Calum’s grip on your waist loosened and dropped.

“Ready to fuckin’ rock?” he whispered to you.

The timber in his voice rattled through your spine, but the shiver only lasted so long before he was guiding you back into the crowd. He hardly spoke after that. The music did enough, and instead, he talked through gazes— warm, heartfelt eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in a while, if at all. For the night, you felt like he admired you the way you had always wanted him to.

“—just annoying as shit. Screaming and bouncing like a fucking slut, man. She was so loud. But who gives a shit, you know? Like, she’s a goddamn whore when she’s—“

Calum tensed at the sound of the men behind you. You could picture the scowl on his features, yet you didn’t dare to glance over. You wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that nothing had been said.

But you couldn’t.

Calum whipped around, and you were quick to grab his arm. “Do you guys mind not fucking disrespecting women like that?” he asked, the pitch of his voice lowering as the words slipped out with ease.

One of the men—you guessed the one who had spoken originally—laughed. Anger coursed through your veins as well, but Calum’s radiated off of him. You moved your hand up to his bicep.

“What? You really gonna do something?” asked the man. He looked down at you and smirk. “I’ll totally take it back if you give me a spin on your little bi—“

Calum lunged, fist flying toward the face of the man with a devilish grin. Immediately, someone tugged you back— you assumed Michael, but you didn’t bother to check. Instead, you were forced to scream over shouts and cheers while the boy you liked fought for you. He fought for you.

The other man had gotten in his fair share of punches, his frightening, rigid knuckles crunching and colliding against Calum’s jaw. Every crack echoed. Every grunt, every groan sent sparks through your nerves, and you felt tears pricking beneath your eyes. Limbs flew and bodies slammed against one another, but you stood there helpless. You stood there wishing you could blink away the fear and adrenaline.

Everyone was shoving each other as the fight spread throughout the crowd. Petty brawls broke out, and you were barely shielded by Ashton’s interference in front of you. But beyond the noise, you still heard Calum, and he was shouting for you.

Shoulders knocked against yours while you fought your way beyond the mayhem. The air was hot, thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol and everything in between, and all you wanted was to find Calum and get out in one piece. You just wanted to be alone with him, to make sure he was okay and to tell him how much he meant to you. To tell him how much his actions meant to you.

A hand reached out for yours. A bloodied and bruised hand with a familiar tattoo stretched across the thumb.

“C’mon,” he muttered once he got close enough, and he pulled you through the chaos to reach the base of the stairs. You were hot on his tail as he walked up, but you chose to remain quiet.

And you stayed quiet the entire walk back to his place.

He was angry, fingers tightly locked between yours while the breeze picked up around you. His pace was heavy, and yours was, too. The door to his apartment slammed shut behind the two of you. You fought the urge to pull him back and calm the frustration, but he was stomping up two flights of steps with you on his heels. You hardly had a chance to glimpse at his small space before you were being pulled into an old bathroom down the hall.

“Cal— Calum.” You pried his fingers away from yours as he paced the tiled floor. “Calum.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. He turned to face you, and you were finally able to look at the damage that had been done. You finally saw what he had put himself through just to defend you. Or, maybe it was much more than that. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “They just— I wasn’t just gonna let them say that shit to you.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

But you wished you did to have to feel any gratitude. You wished you hadn’t been forced to watch him break his bones in order to keep harmful words at bay. He suffered a bloody nose, swollen lip, and bruised cheek, and you felt responsible for every single scratch that tore through his skin.

“Do you— do you have an ice pack?” you sputtered, hand reaching up to grab the air. Because you weren’t sure if you had the right to touch him.

Calum nodded, and you didn’t wait for a verbal answer. You hurried into his kitchen, and despite the cramped size, you lost yourself in the details. It was his kitchen— it was Calum through and through. You searched the drawers for a dish towel, trembling hands picking out a dark cloth before soaking it under the dripping faucet. Next, you retrieved an ice pack from the freezer before rushing back into the bathroom. Calum was leaned up against the porcelain sink, and he had taken off his jacket to reveal a thin white tank.

You kept quiet and approached him slowly, heart heavy at the sight of him so bloodied and broken. You thought about his touch and how it felt earlier on in the night. You thought about protective he was despite barely knowing you for two weeks. And lastly, you thought about how, even when provoked into unattractive behavior, he still managed to look so damn hot.

So, you didn’t speak as you pressed the damp cloth against his blood-soaked skin. He stayed still, watching you as you scrubbed lightly until all that was left was a pinkish residue. You felt the weight of his gaze, and it burned deep in your gut. You had said he no longer intimidated you, but tonight, that wasn’t the case. Ir was the kind of intimidation that drew warmth and left you wanting more.

He was close, so close you could hear your hearts beating as one. The heat of his breath touched your skin, and you were forced to steady yourself with one hand against his bare shoulder. You hadn’t noticed his chest tattoos before, but maybe you hadn’t been this observant. Maybe you hadn’t felt as much as you were feeling right now.

You set the ice pack against his cheek and sighed. “Why did you do that?” you asked him, chest heavy while you yearned to reconstruct your words. You hadn’t wanted to plant the blame on him.

Calum swallowed. “The words he was saying, I—“ His eyes watered as he peered down at you, and he winced once you adjusted the frozen pack onto his blossoming bruise. “Couldn’t stand for that shit. Couldn’t bear to hear him say it. And I— I didn’t wanna hear him say it about you.”

You frowned. The hand that had been on his arm moved down to his chest.

“You don’t have t’take care of me,” he mumbled, lips tugging into a soft smile.

“But I want to,” you said to him. Your fingers traced the edge of his tank.

Calum’s smile quickly fell, and the room was quiet. You wondered if he could feel what you were feeling, too.

“Put down the fuckin’ ice pack,” he whispered, words tight and intricate as his hands slipped around your waist.

And then he was leaning in, lips hot as they pressed against yours in a captivating, lustful kiss. The ice pack slipped from your hands, and you felt frozen in his grip. Desperate hands clutched your waist while the kept you pressed against the sink behind you. You tossed your arms around his neck once you got a feel for his smooth, plump lips aching to taste yours. His fingers maneuvered beneath the thick layer of your sweater in order to feel your skin; you just hadn’t been aware of how truly sensational his touch would feel against your back. His lips melted against yours.

You reached a hand around to hold his face, and he seethed.

“Jesus, fuck,” he spat, and your eyes fell to the fresh bruise you had just touched.

“I’m— I’m so sorry,” you breathed out, expecting him to pull away, yet he pulled you close and reattached your lips with as much passion as the first time. Your teeth clashed, tongues slipping against one another while the heat of the moment made your insides churn. Calum’s large hand splayed across your jaw to keep you close.

His lip was still swollen from the fistful impacts, yet he seemed unfazed; in fact, it only spurred him on. But the heat of the moment overwhelmed you. You wanted him, but you wanted to know you had him.

You brushed your top lip against the corner of his mouth, hands gripping the loose material of his tank while you leaned into him. He held you with strong arms, ones you never wanted to let go.

“You’re really fuckin’ something else, babe,” he mumbled into your hair, and you could feel his smirk. “You know that?”

You chuckled. “I think the name is Maggie May.”

The warmth of his laughter spread through you. His fingers danced along the ridges of your spine, and you leaned back to look at him. His smile was small, yet it was soft, and it held every confession you had wanted to hear.

The black leather jacket on the floor caught your eye. A moment later, you pulled your sweater over your head, and Calum stood across from you in awe. His gaze was intense as you reached down for the jacket and tugged it over your arms. The leather creaked, but the loved material had softened through wear-and-tear. It slipped on with ease, and you stuffed your hands in the pockets with confidence.

Calum was silent as he took your appearance in. His jacket sat draped across your torso with only a bra underneath; you could only imagine how the sight made him feel.

He smiled and told hold of your waist. “Well, then, Maggie May,” he breathed out, lips pressing against your cheek and down your neck. The sensation made your chest ache. “I got something to say to you.”

You tangled your fingers through his dark curls as his voice vibrated through you.

“You stole fuckin’ heart, babe,” he said. “I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”

[excelsi-or]

26/09/19 - misunderstanding (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 1.5k

August 13, 2019

September 26, 2019

“Hey, has Jihoon hyung talked to you lately?” Seungkwan asks as he walks into the kitchen, phone in hand.

She nods. “I talked to him last night before bed. He’s spending a lot of time at the studio for that girl group’s debut.” Before she finishes her orange juice, she asks, “Why?”

Seungkwan looks down at his phone. “I just…”

There’s a bang on the door and then the door bursts open. They both turn, perturbed by the noise, but expecting no one else but Hansol. They’d given him a key since Seungkwan was tired of having to open the door for him.

“We gave you that key so that we didn’t have to be bothered by you,” Seungkwan says. “Not so you could—” Hansol snatches Seungkwan’s phone out of his hand and then drags him into the bedroom.

Unfazed by the abruptness of Hansol’s entrance, she puts her glass into the dishwasher and then packs her bag up for class. She checks the time on her phone and finds a message from Jeonghan.

“She should know!” Seungkwan exclaims, walking out of the bedroom.

“Not like this. Not from us,” Hansol protests.

She opens her messages from Jeonghan, figuring it’s something about his new apartment with Seungcheol. Since the two moved into a new apartment a few blocks away, Jeonghan has been sending plenty of updates. She figures this is no different.

Jeonghan (9:19)

[Img. sent]

What the hELL is thiS?

[Link]

She squints hard at the photo that Jeonghan sent her. It’s taken in the dark, but the lighting from a building’s windows gives off enough light to make out two bodies, one female, one male. The male has a black mask covering half his face, a baseball cap on that covers his hair. The woman looks familiar, but she can’t place her, especially not from this photo.

She slings her bag over her shoulder, about to leave, as she opens the link. Jeonghan must have sent it to clarify. It’s probably idol news; Jeonghan loves stuff like that.

However, when she opens it, the headline does nothing to clarify.

Love in the air?

“Are you sure hyung hasn’t talked to you?” Seungkwan asks, fighting off Hansol’s attempt to stop him.

She chuckles, scrolling through the article. “Yeah, he’s…” Words die on her tongue when she reads the caption underneath the photo: Rookie Kim Jiwoo caught on a late night date with one of her producers.

She turns slightly, a small smirk on her face. “I’m guessing you were trying to tell me about Jihoon’s date with someone who isn’t me?”

Seungkwan and Hansol’s eyes widen. “Noona, it’s probably—” Hansol starts.

“Whatever it is can wait. I have school.” She tucks her phone into her back pocket and bends over to slide her feet into her shoes. When she straightens, she sees the horrified faces of Seungkwan and Hansol. “I’ll be fine. Text you if I panic.” She waves and lets herself out of the apartment. She shakes her head.

“It’s nothing,” she mutters.

And while she’s almost 100% sure it’s nothing and that she’s overreacting, she avoids looking at her phone for the entire day. Any messages sent to her by the boys are ignored. Her friends back home send messages as well; those also go ignored. The only reason she opens her phone is for music and to check if the microbiology lab is open for her to check her test results.

Once she’s done for the day, she finally braves all the messages that have pinged her phone. She reads through the concerned messages from Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan. Hansol and Seungkwan worry that she’s gotten herself run over by a bus and ask her if they can meet between classes. Her friends are all sending her links, demanding to know if it’s true and if she’s okay. How they all recognize Jihoon’s silhouette is astounding. She sends Hansol an “I’m fine” text, and then proceeds to copy and paste it to everyone’s message before she opens Jihoon’s.

Jihoon (10:34)

Gyu woke me up to tell me you might be mad.

I hope you know that it’s not true.

Jihoon (10:47)

Should I be concerned? You’re not answering me.

Jihoon (13:12)

Everyone is telling me you aren’t answering them either.

So I’m not too concerned, but

I hope you aren’t mad at me.

Jihoon (14:08)

Can we talk at least? Do you need me to explain? 

I don’t know how to do this.

Jagi, can you answer me?

She starts to text out a response, but stops. Carefully, she crosses campus, chewing her bottom lip as she stares at Jihoon’s messages. It’s almost 4, so he’s likely in the studio. His name taunts her until she presses the tiny phone icon.

The phone hardly rings once before Jihoon’s voice fills her ears.

“You scared me,” he breathes.

She doesn’t answer, unsure what she’s going to say now that he’s there.

“Jagi? Do you want an explanation?”

She exhales, annoyed at herself. “I shouldn’t need one.” The pavement beneath her feet is suddenly very interesting. “I’m being stupid and irrational, but yes, if you have one.”

Jihoon breathes a sigh of relief. His story is detailed. He starts from the beginning, discussing how Jiwoo is part of the rookie group that’s going to debut. He explains how everyone had had time to do their recordings with him, but when he’d gone back through a few of the songs, something had happened to Jiwoo’s audio.

“I don’t know if it was my fault or if something got messed up when I saved it, but I asked her if she could come in and do her parts again. It wound up going really late and Jiwoo insisted that she stay and watch me mix her voice and all that boring studio stuff. When we finished it was like 2:30 and she suggested we go out to eat.”

The longer the story goes, the further her stomach drops, but she says nothing.

“So we went out to this ramen place that’s open late and that picture is probably taken after we ate and I was waiting with her for a cab to take her home.”

She’s quiet for a long time.

“Jagi?”

She’s found herself on a bench along the walkway. People pass by her and she takes a second to process her thoughts, because she doesn’t want to come off angry. “Okay,” she winds up saying.

She can picture Jihoon squinting, trying to figure out what she means. So she elaborates.

“I don’t… I’m not mad at you,” she clarifies.

“Are… are you sure? Because you don’t sound sure.”

“That, I’m sure of,” she promises. “I’m not mad at you and I knew when I saw it that you wouldn’t do that. I’m just… I’m surprised? I don’t know what I feel.”

“Do you want me to come over so we can talk about it in person?” he asks.

She shakes her head, even though she knows he can’t see it. “No, you’re busy. That’s fine.”

“I don’t know if you’re genuinely upset or not,” Jihoon sighs.

“I would tell you,” she insists. “We agreed to be honest.”

“Yes, okay.” That seems to ease the edge in his voice.

She pauses to weed through her thoughts. A couple walks by her, the girl’s arm around her boyfriend’s waist, his arm slung over her shoulders. They’re talking about dinner plans. 

“She likes you,” she finally says. “And I don’t want to be mad at her, because you’re fantastic, why wouldn’t she like you?”

Jihoon chuckles. “I think you’re feeling jealously, jagi.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Oh, maybe. It feels weird.”

“I know,” Jihoon snorts. “It’s irrational for me to say ‘don’t be jealous’, so… I love you.”

The tension in her stomach unknots itself at his words. “I love you too.”

“So I can tell everyone that you’re not really pissed at me?”

She hikes her bag over her shoulder and stands. “Yes, you can. Are you coming over tonight?”

“Yeah, Seungkwanie is bugging me about a movie night.”

She smiles, her heart feeling better the longer she talks to him. “Okay, Ji. I’ll talk to you tonight then. Love you.”

“Wait, wait. She likes me?”

“I mean from the story you told me, yeah.”

“Oh.”

She waits for him to say more, but nothing comes. “Love you.”

“So she stayed late because she likes me?”

“Yes.”

“And the ramen?”

“Did she ask you about your ideal type and stuff like that?”

“Yes?”

“She was trying to figure out if you were single. Did you tell her you have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t remember,” Jihoon admits. 

She chuckles. “I’m sure it’s fine. See you later. Love you.”

Jihoon hums. “Wait, jagi.”

“What now?” she sighs. After the fiasco that has been the entire day, she’s ready to go to bed.

Jihoon seems to think twice about what he’s going to say. “I love you. I’m sorry for what happened.”

She snorts as she sits down on the bus bench. “Don’t be sorry. I’ll see you.”

Next: October 15, 2019

[spellnbone]

Contrary to what some people think at first sight of his description, Edgar is not someone who rejects emotions. He might be driven by a mind that craves logic, but his heart is a loyal one and contributes to his decisions greatly. Following positive nihilistic philosophies, he knows the importance of love, of loving, and of living in the moment freely. This being said, while he does enjoy a night full of quick-lived romance, he is mainly a terrible serial monogamist.

Age Fourteen - Ainsley

He was in year four when the kids around him began trying things out. Drinking, flirting, kissing. Removed from everyone as he was at that time, he saw no reason to participate, but when he heard that Amelia too had played such games at a recent party, he grew jealous. The two were still in a process of detaching themselves from the other and the idea to be so purposefully excluded from her adventures lit an angry little fire inside of him.

So he stomped up to one of his (very few) friends, Ainsley, who was herself reading a book in a corner at a Ravenclaw party, and prepared a whole speech about why logically it’s of fundamental use to try some of those games yourself, for the sake of both philosophical and physiological development, and then -- never got a single word out. Instead he just pressed a kiss to her mouth.  

“Thank you.” “You’re welcome.”

And they never spoke of it again.

Age Fifteen - Tsi / Fabian

It was in a similar line of thinking that Tsi, a Slytherin, chose Edgar to be her boyfriend. They’d been transfig partners for almost three months, working on a project together, and eventually she decided he’d be good for snogging. Seeing how Amelia, too, just had gotten a boyfriend, Edgar wasn’t very hesitant to agree. He thought it rather agreeable that Tsi didn’t care about his opinions or wishes and just told him what to do, when and how, as it at least alleviated any form of awkwardness -- and taught him a lot.

She broke up with him when the Summer holidays came, with the words: “You’re probably gay anyway.” He was a little upset as to how one could possibly come to such a conclusion, and then spent the Summer drunk and making out with Fabian.

Age Seventeen and Eighteen - Wandering Philosophers

After graduation, Dell invited Edgar to join his little group of Wandering Philosophers. If one has ever seen one of those Summer of Love hippie bus drug montages, one can image what this year abroad was like for Edgar. It was perhaps 1971 and not 1967 but that did not stop the excess of free love and free drugs.

By the end of the year, Edgar had made more experiences than his mind cared to remember, had massively changed his opinions on friendship and other people, and had -- somehow managed to find a steady girlfriend?

Age Nineteen - Janis

Said steady girlfriend came with him back to Hastings. It’s not entirely clear what came first, her or the end of Edgar’s travels, but either way, the moment he’d spoken his first I Love You, he knew he wanted her to come to England with him. As he worked for the West Sussexian Wizarding Paper, they rented a small apartment by the sea, and he was the happiest one could be.

She was not. The American Witch often hinted at him how small the world had become, how the routines felt so terribly familiar, how there was no newness anymore -- and he thought she meant it in a positive way. It turned out, she didn’t. When Edgar stumbled upon Ainsley one day, she suggested he’d join the Daily Prophet in London, and when he told this to Janis, her cry of relief was great.

“Yes, please, Edgar, go!” she said, and in between words of reassurance that she did love him, that she just hated the small town life, she was already packing her own bags.

Age Twenty to Twenty-Two - Lucienne

It took a while for Edgar to recover from Janis basically fleeing from him, but it was all the easier now that he’d moved to London and was close to Amelia. The two had barely been in contact since graduation, and while he’d done nothing but smoke weed and discuss heatedly if Camus or Sartre were superior, she’d worked herself up to the top of the Ministry of Magic. He couldn’t be prouder. But as he waited for their very different lifestyles to clash, they only grew closer and closer again.

This process was brusquely interrupted when Edgar met Lucienne. She was an actress from one of the underground Wizarding Theatres he wrote about regularly, and (as he’d written in one of his reviews) she needn’t no spotlight to make her shine. She was a bright firework herself, wherever she went, people turned heads, and Edgar never fully understood what she saw in him, why she picked him.

But it mustn’t have been pity, for she was the one to suggest he move in with her. The fact that their greatest obsession was also their common interest helped. While Edgar joined the Order and had his mind growing clouded with the dangers of this war, Lucienne always managed to remind him of the world’s beauty as well. They could rehearse, discuss and analyse plays for hours and hours without it ever growing boring, and while the city outside grew dark, at least inside their apartment Lucienne’s light illuminated everything brightly.

Age Twenty Three - London

It was in the Fall of his twenty-second year that Edgar witnessed the first death of someone close in the Order. Some even said he’d been the cause for it. It changed something in him. After the funeral he saw Caradoc cry for the first time. Had the two hated each other up until that point, something connected them over the grave of their friend. Edgar brought him home, not to Lucienne, but to Amelia. They told her about the Order and about their loss, and till this day, Edgar is not sure why he chose Amelia to comfort them. Perhaps if he hadn’t, if he’d brought Caradoc to Lucienne (who was, after all, an anti-bloodpurism activist) everything would’ve been different now.

But as it were, he stayed with Amelia for days, perhaps weeks, incapable to face Lucienne again, until, about a month later, she sent him his things. No letter, nothing attached. Just a clear sign: they were over.

This was the only time that he and Amelia shared a flat, and along with the truth of his political endeavours, this truly sealed their relationship with wax. Ever since having been sorted into two different houses at Hogwarts, they’d slowly but surely grown apart, but now it was as though they were in Mexico all over again. They cooked together, went out together, slept together -- that is in the same bed, of course. Sometimes they brought home someone from a pub, but it was never until they fully reached the bedroom that it became apparent for who that person was meant for. Amelia? Edgar? Neither? Both? Either way, the moment the person was gone the next day (or same night -- after all, the Bones twins were quite good at being hostile to unwanted people) they were clinging together again.

It was during this time that Edgar remembered why he’d changed his writing hand from left to right, once upon a time: it was to hold Amelia’s at all times.

Age Twenty-Three to Twenty-Five - Genevieve

(Un)fortunately, there were still moments they had to spend apart, namely at work. And it was during work (visiting a Muggle play on Drury Lane) that Edgar met Genevieve. She was different from anyone he’d ever met. She was of royal blood and knew her manners, spoke of luxuries and her own charities with ease, while at the same time showing no sign of vanity or arrogance. She loved theatre and due to being a Muggle, knew nothing about the war that was slowly but surely devouring Edgar’s mind.

Edgar realised quickly that if he wanted to keep up with her, he needed to leave Amelia. And so it came that only after about three months of dating, Genevieve bought them an apartment and they moved in together. He was enamored by her every move, every word, every sight. He was incapable of reviewing any plays but romances, began writing terrible poetry himself and -- neglected everyone but her. Had Amelia been the center point of his life only half a year ago, he now barely remembered to reply to her letters, and was the war still raging, he struggled to see its somber colours through his pink glasses.

So it came, that when it turned out that Genevieve was no Muggle at all, but a Muggleborn who’d chosen to live amongst Muggles, something changed. On the one hand, he loved her even more, now capable to show her the House of Bones and introduce her to his family, on the other hand he knew what this meant. And indeed, it didn’t take long until her family was attacked by Death Eaters. The family had once upon a time been closely connected with a family from the Sacred 28, but after the Statue of Secrecy had been established, the ties had been cut. However this didn’t change the fact that the family knew of the Wizarding World, being reminded of it ever so often whenever a new magical child was born.

“My family is in danger and I don’t know what to do.” “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

It was the first time Edgar told someone about the Order, other than Amelia. But while Genevieve thought he’d now ask her to join the fight (she was eager to), he told her about this pilot project of theirs, about taking in refugees and helping them to flee.

“You want me to leave?” He wanted to say no, because never had he loved someone as earnestly and deeply as her, but he said “Yes,” and she was too noble and dignified to fight. After all, it really was the smartest decision.

Age Twenty-Six - Tsi

Yes, Tsi from Year Five. What happened in between Genevieve and the heartbreak she caused and Tsi, should be of no mystery anymore: Amelia. They didn’t officially live together this time as she had her own boyfriend, but they still very much spent every waking moment together. Eventually the boyfriend left. Neither of them really acknowledged it. What mattered was that Amelia forgave Edgar for leaving her so suddenly, and he promised to never to it again.

About four months later, Tsi found Edgar. She had barely changed. She was still a fierce and stubborn Slytherin, hungry for power and control, and all too earnest about her urges and desires. So Edgar, still nursing his heartbreak, was willing to submit himself to her demands once more. She was so different from Genevieve it was easy to forget her in Tsi’s commands and willful ideas.

It ended abruptly when Edgar learnt she agreed with Voldemort’s ideas.

Age Twenty-Seven - London Again

Once again heartbroken, Edgar found himself with Amelia again as well. But this time she made him promise to never hurt her again properly.

“No one must come between us again.” “No one will, I promise.”

Amelia was by now an affiliate of the Order and because Edgar was almost certain that the Other Side knew his face and name, he didn’t want to put Amelia in danger by living with her. So he got his own apartment, a little thing in Muggle China Town, and on the nights he doesn’t spend with Amelia or working, he does bring people home. He cannot stand sleeping alone anymore, the silence causing his thoughts to spiral terribly.

So it doesn’t really matter who that warm body is, he’s content as long as he can nestle up to it at night. Sometimes it’s a good friend, drunk, like Fabian, who needs a place to crash, and sometimes it’s a stranger, who Edgar makes sure not to learn anything about, out of fear to fall in love again.