#potentially for the January card but I’m not sure yet

[oooocleo]

it’s tradition at this point to spend New Years night drawing ✍️

[arcadianambivalence]

World on Fire - Season 2, Episode 2

It’s the second episode, and I’m already behind. Prepare yourselves for a long one, readers!

The Egyptian Storyline

Cue title card: Sahara Desert, Egypt

(that narrows it down)

Harry arrives at the front and reunites with Stan and Joe from his old crew. He meets Rajib and Singh, who were introduced in the last episode, and new recruit George. Very quickly, it becomes apparent that Harry is again out of his element. Italian planes fly low overhead, and Harry immediately ducks (the standard reaction during the retreat) while Stan keeps walking.

Stan introduces Rajib with begrudging respect (“a bit full of himself, but then, I’d be full of myself if I single handedly blew a hole in a mountain so the Scottsguard could get through and chase the enemy.”) Aww, Stan’s becoming slightly less of a jerk this season…

Harry gets along with Rajib, which is nice. Rajib has the decisiveness Harry lacked for much of last season, so maybe that’ll set an example…

Their ensuing conversation reveals that Rajib had fought in Ethiopia. (I’ve tried to pin down which battle this would have been, but I’m not entirely sure yet.) What I am sure of is that they are trying to get to Bardia in Libya as part of Operation Compass, the British push into Libya that winter. Bardia would have its own battle in January, so that’s something to look out for next episode.

Rajib says something along the lines of: “It’s amazing what you can get the lower classes to do for three square meals and money home.” That’s an understatement. I get the sense that Rajib is holding back his actual opinions to avoid potential repercussions.

Rajib’s time in Northern and Eastern Africa would have run almost parallel to Harry’s evacuation from Dunkirk and journey home. He would have grown up under control of the British Empire in Asia, and is now fighting for that empire to stop the control of Italy’s expanding colonial powers in Africa. With those similarities in mind…is there much of a difference between one side or the other?

(The show obviously can’t go into a comparison of centuries of colonialism, empire-building, invasions, etc. in depth, but the past two episodes have done a good job of planting this question in the viewer’s mind, at least for me.)

In a later battle with Italian forces as they approach the Egyptian-Liberian border the two units discover a cave where some of the soldiers kept their supplies cool and clean from the sand and the heat. In the confusion of gunfire, Harry opens an old leg wound. Nothing that requires immediate surgery or amputation, but enough to be at risk of infection from sand. And judging from the way Harry seems to want to avoid the topic.

(Dude, Stan had this problem during Dunkirk. Don’t jeopardize your unit because you’re afraid to admit you have an injury that needs supervision!)

Also, I may be reading too much into this, but is the battle supposed to be Nibeiwa? December 9th, 1940? Or Sidi Barrani the next day? The episode ends on Christmas Day, and each episode covers roughly a month of time. Or is this not a battle but one of the many little skirmishes along the way? Or simply a made-up location to get away with some potential inaccuracies?

That night, Joe talks to the new guy George about life in the army and back home. Joe knows the ropes, so as long as George sticks with him, he should be fine. Cue Joe going off on his own for a late night bathroom break in the middle of a sandstorm. The next morning, Harry makes a grisly discovery. The sand buried Joe alive.

It’s the wrong location, but the way Harry pulls up the rope makes me expect to hear “What have I done?” a la Alec Gusiness in Bridge on the River Kwai.

Also, kudos to the director Barney Cokeliss and cinemetographer Bastian Schiøtt. The journey through the desert looks horrifying.

What do you do when you’re fighting one war against enemy forces…and another war against nature (and nature is winning)?

Context

October 1935 - May 1936 - Italy invades and Ethiopia, one of the few remaining independent states, to expand their colonial power in Africa November 1936 - German and Italian alliance (the “Rome-Berlin Axis”) is announced June 10th, 1940 - Italy declares war on Britain and France and later invades southern France September 13th, 1940 - Italian forces start to invade Egypt (which occupied by the British for at least another decade) from Libya (then an Italian colony) December 1940 - January 1941 - Allied troops push Italian forces back into Libya

The British Storyline

The implications of the British plots are pretty dense this episode, and I have a lot of thoughts, so I’m going to break it up for clarity’s sake.

David

In the face of losing friend after friend, acquaintance after acquaintance, coworker after coworker, David can only respond with a joke. When his superior officer confronts him about his reactions, David pointedly responds, “If you can’t laugh about half the world hating you, what can you laugh about?”

Later, he meets up with Grzegorz at the club. (Boys’ night!)

Then it turns out precious Grzegorz has sneakily tried to set up David with Lois.

(He's so proud of himself, too!)

To be fair, I thought the two would make a nice couple the moment he was introduced. He reminds me of season 1 Lois, giving glib and clever responses to any pushback, maintaining an armor of humor to hide other emotions.

Lois is not up for a blind date, though, and tries to scare him off with a list of her losses, including Harry as “the love of my life.” So, no, she’s not doing well. He tries to salvage the situation and is promptly shot down in perhaps my favorite exchange of the episode:

“I’m bad luck.” “Maybe I’m the good luck you’ve been waiting for.” “Nah.” (shotguns a glass to David’s intimidation and arousal, but mostly intimidation)

But it’s not a total loss. He meets Connie. They have a cute moment wearing night goggles at her flat…as Lois snores from the other side of the room. David asks if Lois has always been like this. Connie (taking the fact that the man sleeping next to her is more interested in talking about her roommate than her extremely well) acknowledges that Lois’s behavior has gotten more risky lately. David shares that he was raised by his grandparents instead of his birth parents, so maybe there’s hope for Vera after all if Lois does go off on her own.

Once again, David loses another pilot.

At the end of the episode, he watches Stephen (the pilot who had been making some antisemitic comments earlier) burn to death as his plane catches fire before he can bail out. The dog fight scenes can get a little repetitive, especially since green screen and post-production effects can only add so much variety, but kudos to Gregg Sulkin for selling the fear, adrenaline, and grief with just his eyes and eyebrows visible.

I’ll come back to the context of this dog fight later.

Lois

Covered in bricks last episode? Eh, we’ll give her a bandage and a scrape on the forehead. She’s fine. She’s traumatized and wants to get out of Manchester and away from anyone left who knows her, but she’s totally fiiiiiinnnne.

So Kasia takes one look at her and gets it. Lois takes great pains to say that she isn’t grieving her father, that she’d rather not have Vera than have her, that she doesn’t feel anything at all. Kasia points out that this isn’t true, or Lois wouldn’t try to say it often enough to make herself believe it. 

(Harry, who? These two women need more conversations together!)

The two have a mature conversation about the alienating nature of grief. Kasia reframes the situation for Lois and neither supports nor rejects the idea of getting away (even from Vera). She sees in this the choice she made in the very first episode with Jan.

But someone else is most certainly not on board with this decision, and it’s Tom (back for another single-scene appearance!). Tom and Lois bury Douglas’s remaining belongings at their mother’s grave. He jokes that it’s second billing, as Douglas would have always wanted. Then, because no one in this family can handle honest sentiment for long, quips:

“There Dad. Happy now? ‘Pacifist proves his point by getting killed by Hitler.’”

Lois admits to Tom that she had wanted the bomb to kill her. By the end of the episode, she’s sought several ways to get permission to get out. At the bottom of a glass. Pushing away friends and acquaintances. A poster for the ATS that just so happens to be for a posting in Cairo.

Oh yeah, she’s totally fine. Totally over Harry. Totally going in a new direction in life. (Just when you think she’s out, the idea of Harry pulls her back in. Baby girl, no one will measure up to the person you thought Harry was because you won’t let them close enough to know them. He’s the love of your life? No, he’s the only love you’ll let hang onto your life, when it never did you any good. Move on with your life–not to the same country as him.)

But I digress.

Sir James

I don’t know what to think of Sir James, and frankly I think that’s the point. Right off the bat, we’re introduced to his charm, humor, and wealth. He has the influence to get a bouquet of fresh white flowers for Robina. He is Sir James, already Robina’s social superior. He knows more about Robina than Robina does about him. He’s constantly throwing Robina off her guard for the rest of the episode, and while it’s fun to see her navigate situations where she’s on her back foot, this says something about his character in that every conversation is a surprise.

Is he being serious? Is he joking? Is he flirting? (Is he trying to get her to give him information?) It’s not clear what exactly he wants with Robina and the Tomaszeski siblings, but he certainly has something up his sleeve. In a single episode, he has:

Arrived several days early and without notice

Already known that Robina has a Polish refugee child living with her

Used his influence to resolve Kasia’s civil suit

Gotten Jan and Robina to trust him

Stolen a Christmas tree* from a churchyard

Just kidding, it was from the office

Sent out secret radio messages in the night

*A yuletide tradition originally from Germany

But what really grinds my gears about him is how he is all for Lois giving Vera over to Robina…who he suggests should give the baby to Kasia. Kasia’s a woman, so surely she’ll be fine looking after the child her husband fathered after cheating on her while she was mourning the murders of her mother and father, the thought of never seeing her brothers again, and her homeland being invaded. But women are interchangeable to babies, right?

(I know all babies are plot devices in shows, but it's like every single character is playing hot potato with the baby. At this rate, it’ll be Jan taking care of Vera before the end of the season!)

Though that could be a ruse to throw Kasia off his tail. Sir James has a line about guile that Kasia repeats at the end of the episode, impressing him (or arousing his suspicions!). Between Jan’s memory and Kasia’s finesse, they’d make a fine team. If Sir James is working for the Allies, that is…

Oooooooh, are we going to bring the storylines together with the Long Range Desert Group intel for the North African campaign?

Their motto (at least according to Wikipedia, so take this with a big grain of salt): Non Vi Sed Arte (Not by Strength, but by Guile) 

Okay, so Sir James says something along the lines of “not by deceit, but by guile” instead. Which means this storyline may converge with one of the others. After all, he has a radio transmitter and receiver in his suitcase…and a German passport. Either he’s some Lord Haw Haw insert who is at Robina’s due to her past sympathies, or he is Allied and in touch with a resistance cell on the continent…and working with him will be Kasia’s next storyline. Maybe it will involve getting someone out of Occupied Paris…or someone into Berlin.

The German Storyline

I’m just now realizing that Marga’s story arc is shaping up to contrast with Lois’s relationship to motherhood.

While Lois decided to go through with the pregnancy in season one, even with the prospect of ever having any romantic relationship with Harry dimming, she now regrets becoming a mother, or at least no longer feels as if she can be an effective mother, and wants to give up her baby to Robina’s care, at least for awhile. (Though the slow-mo and dramatic music makes it seem like forever…) When the time comes for Marga to give birth and give up a baby, how will that affect her? Will she change her mind and have the baby forcibly taken from her?

But as for now, Marga is happy to have a child with a stranger and give the baby up for adoption as soon as the pregnancy is over. To her, this is an act of patriotism (as ghastly and violating as the idea is to us as a modern audience). As she can’t take part in combat like her brother, and career choices were limited for young women then, Marga must think this is her best chance at doing something patriotic.

This is Nazi Germany’s version of women “doing their bit.”

Ugh.

Marga’s ambition doesn’t come out of nowhere. Nazi Germany placed a high premium on having children. In fact, there was an award for mothers of large families (which meant more rations and social privileges) introduced in 1939. Concepts of beauty and womanhood pointed to marriage and motherhood, as that was (and still is) generally expected for women after a certain age, but doubly so in a country with a government obsessed with eugenics.

(I could write a long meta on the role of gender in the past two episodes alone.)

Having grown up being exposed to Nazi propaganda and strict gender expectations, it’s not unbelievable that a sixteen year old (who would not know much about the physical dangers of pregnancy and childbirth–especially for a young person) would think of this in vague terms of “honor” and “duty” instead of the way Gertha feels but can’t put into words–that this is a life-changing and invasive situation that she is too young to handle or see clearly. It’s a horrible irony that perhaps the first big choice Marga makes for her life is to get out from her parents’ control…and under the government’s.

Gertha and her teacher, Herr Trutz, are more worried for Marga than she herself is, and both are betrayed to the Gestapo. Marga turns Gertha in for treasonous activity, and Gertha is intimidated into giving up her teacher’s name to spare her parents. This is unfortunately not an overexaggeration of how many children were taught to put their country above their friends and family, even if it meant turning in those closest to them to avoid the taint of association with anti-Nazi sentiment. But while Marga does not see what happens to Gertha, Gertha once again gets a clearer picture of the sinister reality. She tearfully apologizes to Herr Trutz as he is dragged, bloody and hardly able to walk, through the prison. Her teacher responds with understanding, even in agony.

“We’re all going through hell, Gertha. We do what we must to survive.”

But there's a line between compromising yourself for survival and for benefit.

The French Storyline

We finally learn what happened to Henriette and Albert! And it’s…not great. They’re still alive, at least. Henriette is now a major part of the resistance cell in the American hospital in Paris, even as the Germans crack down on anyone with suspicious or missing identification papers (which, since Henriette admitted last season she was working under a false surname, is going to be a problem for her).

To complicate matters further, her little brother Luc shows up in the hospital and begs her to help him escape. Like a typical big sister, she berates him but agrees to help.

We quickly learn that Henriette has gotten much deeper into the resistance since we last saw her. Now she has a gun concealed in a supply closet and does not hesitate to point it at the locked door when Germans try to enter the room. When the coast is clear, she points Luc to a secret exit through the cellar. They embrace and she says that they’ll be together again soon. But Luc is captured anyway.

He is taken to a local prison camp, the same one where Albert is, and the same one where Henriette drops off Red Cross packages for the prisoners. Albert recognizes her and agrees to help her get Luc out on the condition that she leave and not return. It’s the same thing he wanted for Webster last season. Hurt them to save them.

She gives him a package with a small vial and a note that says simply, “Drink me.”

Closing Thoughts

So there’s one thing I’ve been holding off on mentioning thus far, as I don’t want to turn this into a rant instead of a review, but…they skipped the Christmas Blitz. It’s set in Manchester, and they skipped the Christmas Blitz…

The closest we get is David joking about how the Germans chose to attack on Hannukah after other pilots complain about it being almost Christmas, then the standard dog fight sequence, and Lois packing her things as the furniture trembles from distant bombs landing.

So………….if you haven’t seen my past posts and fanfic, this is a special interest topic for me. And I expected the show to cover it, seeing as the two night raids over Manchester with massive loads of firebombs and explosives destroyed so many significant cultural and industrial landmarks. The event was important enough to get a name, after all. 

And yet. Nope.

It would have been very easy to move Lois’s injury from October to December. In fact, it would have given us more time to see what being an ambulance driver means to Lois and Connie while still tying this plot point into the bigger history of Manchester.

We could have seen how the Chase household (not being in Manchester proper) reacted and came together. Heck, we could have seen Robina and Sir James crammed together in an air raid shelter. Surely falling bombs would bring back Kasia’s memories of the invasion of Warsaw? No? What about Jan? Anyone?

I don’t understand this decision, and I don't like it.

But that’s my big complaint with this episode. And anyway, what else is fanfiction is for? More importantly, there are several books out there that touch on this long overlooked subject if you’re interested.

To Learn More:

Blitz Britain: Manchester and Salford by Graham Pthythian

Manchester at War by Graham Pthythian

Imperial War Museums

The History Press

The BBC

General Sources:

1939 by Frederick Taylor covers the months leading up to WW2 and the beginning of the war, with details about the cultural and political landscape of Europe that I’d never read before.

Brittanica article on the North Africa Campaign

Wikipedia article on Operation Compass

[alyjojo]

Love Reading 🫡 - January 2024 - Aries

Singles:

Overall energy: Strength rev

How you will meet: Ace of Swords rev

How they will treat you: 5 Wands

Long-term Potential: 7 Wands

You both argue or are conflicted about the other person, you both have issues with the other that you have no problem speaking on, but your energy specifically is kinda confusing. They’ve lied, you know they’ve lied, whatever was going on is now on the table - and probably ended the whole connection. You’re still pissed at them, and your messages have you distanced, perfectly fine, living your life, while your Oracle card has you feeling chained to this person, obsessed, codependent. It’s like a power struggle. Fk them - but also fk them being happy with you right? Something like that. They are also fine without you, they probably flex on their money, career, tangible stuff, they like the finer things in life - and like to show it off even more. 9 Pentacles & 9 Swords rev all indicate self energy and being independent & unbothered. If anything, they look down on you, this could be someone that’s rude with their words & actions on purpose, you two seem to have a dick measuring contest on who doesn’t care more…kinda getting it’s them. I’m not sure why you’re stuck on them, love isn’t showing up here. Dominance is. Competition is. I’m not sure you even really know why you feel the way you do. Long term, you’re forever pissed off and defensive about a lack of anything together, a lack of growth, how much time was invested, how things have completely changed in ways you don’t want - or didn’t. You could feel like everything was working against you in this connection, and Wheel of Fortune may show that’s true. Except it’s not working against you, it’s a lesson, probably a karmic, and this Wheel is actually spinning in your favor. Keep going. This feeling and relationship - won’t change, but everything else probably will, and that’s why things have to go this way right now ❤️

Messages -

Their side:

- Condescending

- Other Half

Your side:

- At a Distance

- Living My Life

Oracles -

Their side: COFFIN ⚰️

- New Beginnings

- Liberation

- Reborn & Transition

- Tragic Endings

Your side: ADDICTION 💊

- Codependent

- Obsession & Restraint

- Possession & Control

- Emotional Block

Signs you may be dealing with:

Heavy Leo, Virgo, Pisces & Libra

Couples:

Overall energy: 7 Cups rev

Current: 2 Wands

Challenge: 4 Pentacles

How they feel about you: Wheel of Fortune

How you feel about them: The Chariot

Outcome: 3 Wands

You’re involved in some fight you don’t have a choice whether you’re in or not, this could be something that’s outside of your control yet involves you. For example, your apartment building is undergoing maintenance and you’re forced out for a week, that turns into a month, and you’re ready to bite someone’s head off for giving you the runaround. Maybe that example actually applies idk that’s what I got. It’s not your decision to be involved, yet here you are. Or you could be needing to save money, and know exactly what you want, you just can’t yet for whatever reason. January feels like a month of things moving along without seeming like they actually are, it’s beyond your control. I do see you overcoming every obstacle that falls in your path, whether it’s today or mid-February, whatever is getting you annoyed is temporary. In the thick of it though, you’re irritated 💯

You’re making plans to move forward, or you already have, and something is keeping you from taking the actions you’re ready to take. Could be business related, again I’m getting an apartment, I don’t see house cards but it keeps coming up intuitively, you could be fighting a slumlord or something. Justice can be a literal legal case and for someone that applies, or red tape, approval, loans with The Hierophant here, the government, official signed & sealed documents are keeping you from your goal, some kind of Justice you’re expecting. The challenge is 4 Pentacles, you could need more money, or you’re just in a shitty mindset, feeling pessimistic, holding onto this idea or plan, getting annoyed it’s taking so long…ready to fight your case if need be. I don’t think you need to, but you’re ready to take action and can’t, that’s misery for an Aries. Waitinggggg. Your person sees everything you’re going through, they realize all of this is outside of your control and you’re not getting the support you need. They feel very supportive, and with this Grounding oracle, they’re someone that’s a positive, logical, patience sort that helps to balance out your irritation, impatience, etc., they’re good for you.

With your feelings for them, you definitely feel like this is your person, and you show up as a divine match 🔥 You could be already married, or your person is, and you want that shit over with so fast gooooodbye. Rush it through. They could’ve been separated a long time and just never went through with it, with this Wheel of Fortune on their side. Maybe they didn’t know you then. You could be wanting to marry them and be done with the old ways, people, life. If not that story, then you simply see your person as a mature, moral guiding sort of wise person, they help ground your more fiery impulses because you 👏 want 👏 it 👏 now 👏 and governments or whoever don’t care what you want, sit down. Outcome for mid-Feb is more waiting, waiting for a divorce, waiting for a court date, Justice, a fixed apartment idk, needing to love yourself & practice self care in the meantime, could literally be waiting on the other person to get with their own lawyer, sign things, leave, etc. Cards in the beginning show you’ll stop at nothing, I don’t see this being an issue forever, try to get some peace of mind, it’ll happen. With the messages, it could be either of you tied up with contracts and red tape, but the goal is the same - you mirror them ❤️ Side note - drink more water 💦

Messages -

Their side:

- It’s DESTINY baby!

- Old Time Romance 🌹

Your side:

- I’m not ready for marriage.

- I want the kids, the dogs, the fence, everything!

Oracles -

Their side: GROUNDING 🪨

- Stability & Security

- Performance

- Growth & Endurance

Your side: MIRROR 🪞

- Mirroring Each Other

- Self-Reflection

- Introspection

- Inner Wounds

Signs you may be dealing with:

Aries, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Taurus & Capricorn

[architectslong]

Ark 2 pre order

ARK 2 PRE ORDER PRO

ARK 2 PRE ORDER SOFTWARE

There's the foundations of something decent here: lots of species of prehistoric animals with different pros and cons, an in-depth survival system. I'm just kind of existing in the world populated by dinosaurs. And that's how I feel when I'm playing it. Couldn't get any help with the first one because I couldn't remember the dino's name and it had been a few days (it was dead, jim), but the second one got resolved speedily. Yeah the game's support is genuinely terrible, but I only had to use it twice, once when I got a dinosaur stuck underneath the terrain (back in early access - and this only happened once) and second when I messed up with tranferring tribe ownership. A lot of the bugs people have mentioned have been fixed since well before EA, I'm not sure what they're going on about. Even if you have a good card, be prepared to turn those settings down to medium or low to get playable fps. That's ~41 days of nothing but playing this game. While it has its problems, I can't justify giving this game anything less than a 10. Now it’s officially going from tech demo to shipping product, and I can’t wait to try and get my hands on one and see how the display actually performs.While it has its problems, I can't justify giving this game anything less than a 10. Samsung’s Odyssey Ark monitor was easily one of the most notable reveals back at CES 2022, and all these months later has remained the most memorable of those showcases. This promotion runs through September 11, and will likely begin shipping afterwards. That’s $100 off when you reserve the monitor, and then those who complete the pre-order will get another $200 off. Locking in your pre-order will secure the 55-inch gaming screen for $3,199.99, an overall $300 savings. The $3,499 list price is going to be hard to stomach for some potential buyers, but Samsung is offering some initial savings today. Samsung does not specify when the monitor will officially begin shipping as of yet, but there are some incentives for those who want to score the latest and greatest right on launch day. Now available for pre-order direct from Samsung as well as retailers like B&H, you can lock-in your Samsung Odyssey Ark. There’s an integrated Game Bar for reviewing settings at a glance, as well as different modes based on whether you’re gaming, watching videos, or getting work done.

ARK 2 PRE ORDER SOFTWARE

One of the more unique software features is enabled through the Ark Dial, which lets you adjust settings on the new Samsung Odyssey monitor on the fly. We’ve seen plenty of other monitors that offer wraparound designs to throw you into gameplay, but having the option of using the display for other use cases outside of traditional gaming makes the monitor even more of a standout. Samsung then backs the Odyssey Ark monitor with a versatile stand that allows the curved panel to rotate between immersive UltraWide gameplay sessions to a productivity-focused vertical orientation.

ARK 2 PRE ORDER PRO

Four HDMI ports are also joined by other features like FreeSync Premium Pro support, four corner speakers with two central woofers, and Dolby Atmos virtual surround sound. Its mini-LED panel uses the brand’s Quantum Matrix Technology and then also sports a 4K resolution with 165Hz refresh rate. Since its reveal over eight months ago, Samsung has kept all of the wildly unique features first revealed at the January showcase.Īs a quick refresher on the stats, the monitor is centered around a 55-inch form-factor with 1000R curvature. Samsung Odyssey Ark goes up for pre-orderĪs just the latest addition to the Samsung lineup of Odyssey gaming monitors, the new Ark addition is certainly going to be the most eye-catching release yet.

[arvandus]

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta.  You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face.  You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed.  You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note:  A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder​​. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??).  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar.  Some looking to win romance.  Some looking to win money.  While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends.  Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band.  It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched.  You checked your phone for messages but found none.  It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up.  It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response.  Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up.  A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point.  You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now.  Sometimes it was them.  Sometimes it was you.  But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best.  At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date.  And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing.  Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians.  Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din.  Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs.  Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage.  All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club.  Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch.  Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was.  Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips.  He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans.  He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing.  The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star.  The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck.  It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This.  This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out.  You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people.  But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new.  And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump.  Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed.  But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel.  Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away.  Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble.  His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral.  To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze.  You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis.  “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons.  He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly.  “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down.  “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles.  “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow.  “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’.  You know who I’m talking about.  If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done.  But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened. 

Watching him from a distance was one thing.  But actually meeting him?  Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body.  “No, it’s okay.  I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention.  You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage.  No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him.  The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at.  And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you.  You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance.  Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift.  The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins.  You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him.  Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time.  Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did.  Only rarely did he linger for a drink.  What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you.  He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep.  It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten.  You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured.  You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit.  He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him.  No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him.  In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied.  “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied.  Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass.  Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip. 

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar.  “Duty calls, friend.  Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him.  Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later.   You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice. 

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight.  A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred.  “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold.  “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned.  “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl.  It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat.  Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi.  He had a way of handling drunken idiots.  But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him. 

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind.  Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face.  A well-placed kick to his shin.  Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder.  The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort.  You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips.  But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare.  “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered.  “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed.  His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission.  For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay!  I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good.  Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him.  “Hey, fuck you man!”  He shouted.  But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables.  Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse.  Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess.  The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had.  But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded.  “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine.  But next time ask for one of my bouncers.  Or Hizashi.  Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin.  “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents.  “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay.  Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.”  She crossed her arms.  “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand.  I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration.  “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better.  And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before.  “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love.  I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

 Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

 “And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment.  I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi.  “Get her a fresh drink.”  

 “Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

 She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

 “Thank you.” You replied.

 Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

 You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now.  “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

 “Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath.  Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display.  Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied.  There was a long silence before he spoke again.  “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then.  Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely.  The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked.  “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking.  The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.  

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown.  How long had he noticed you’d been coming here?  Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment.  You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh.  He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused.  Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time.  I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True.  I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice.  You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin.  “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back.  This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective.  Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval.  He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought.  It felt natural.  Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself.  After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face.  His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri.  You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own.  Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life.  You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory.  He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed.  “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed.  “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look.  “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink.  “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation.  You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now.  You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him.  “How about you?  Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No.  No special someone.  Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand.  Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.  

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him.  Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched.  If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned.  Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there?  What if you were wrong?  

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter.  The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy.  It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations.  Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.  

He was interested.  In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned.  Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind.  It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most.  You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.  

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers.  Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin.  That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment.  “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club.  Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day.  How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement.  But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could.  “Leave me the keys to the place.  I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug.  He placed a set of keys on the counter.  “Don’t tell Nemuri, though.  She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left.  You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze.  Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space.  He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile.  “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you.  “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips.  You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own.  Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass.  You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head.  “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid.  Used to mess around on it.” He explained.  “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails.  You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing.  “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head.  “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them.  Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat.  He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty.  The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him.  The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C.  Everything else will center around this.”  He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space.  “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys.  Like this.”  Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm.  “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.”  He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out.  Then, he removed his hand.  “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried.  The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured.  “Let’s try it again.  Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol.  It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness.  You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience.  “It’s okay.  If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it.  You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit.  And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop?  How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay.  Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys.  “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his.  His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land.  Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said.  “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval.  “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time.  The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled.  “Good.  Now, for the other hand.  You’ll start one octave lower.  Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect.  Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys.  “Like this?”

Shouta nodded.  “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand.  The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you.  You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap.  His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his.  The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod.  “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily.  “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No.  Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him.  He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them.  You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this.  The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes.  To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly.  The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake.  You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down.  And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys.  All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen.  His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.  

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys.  His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable.  But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted.  But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting.  Finally, he spoke.  “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now.  “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you.  Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results.  Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need.  Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did.  It was obvious you did.  Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him.  He needed to hear it.  A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you.  At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own.  You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.  

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs.  This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing?  How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence?  And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties.  The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation.  His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps.  Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock.  Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements.  “You better stop that…” he warned.  

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end.  But you didn’t care.  You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction.  In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck.  His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw.  There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap.  The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control.  But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back.  “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath.  With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel.  He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance.  The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered.  Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit.  A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage.  With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release.  Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you.  With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching.  Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer.  You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly.  “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers.  The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake.  Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched.  Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.  

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure.  Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch.  His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs.  The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips.  Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him.  But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh.  “Much.”  You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you.  “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans.  “As much as I like that idea, no.”  He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap.  His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place.  “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.  “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms.  “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.”  You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered.  You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access.  “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind.  Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes.  He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was.  You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

 You couldn’t wait.

[drabbles-mc]

Conversations In The Dark

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @n3ss12: Can I get for a short fic (if you’re not busy) based on Conversations In The Dark by John Legend with soft Nestor?💕

Warnings: language, light angst, so much softness and pining

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Full disclosure, this is also a follow-up to I Like Me Better. You can read this fic without having read that one first, but the first definitely puts more context to it. Just another installment in the Soft Nestor Universe, the SNU, if you will. But I had never heard this song and I melted into a puddle of feelings the first time I listened to it, so thank you for the song rec! Hope you enjoy xo

General Mayans Taglist: @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @garbinge @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @lakamaa12​ @holl2712 (If you want to be added to any of my tags just let me know!)

It had been almost a week since Nestor showed up on your doorstep. You cashed in on some of your vacation time when he first arrived, not wanting to leave him alone when he had finally made the trip out to come and see you. He wouldn’t have given you a hard time about it regardless—if anyone understood what it was like to be dedicated to your work it was him. But still, it was nice that you were able to have so much time with just the two of you.

For someone who never really left the West Coast, January in New York was a bit much for him to take in all at once. He’d been excited about it all, despite the cold. One of his first days there, you dragged him out to buy him a proper winter coat. He had groaned and rolled his eyes but you weren’t going to budge on it.

“I’m not gonna listen to you complain about being cold the whole time you’re here if we can prevent it,” you chuckled, “Plus you can leave it here so you’ll have it here every time you come to visit.”

“Every time?” he smiled over at you.

You nodded, “Well, yea. Now that you’ve made it out here once you’re on the hook for more trips. I don’t make the rules.”

The two of you were walking down the street to one of your favorite little hole-in-the-wall restaurants. It wasn’t overly fancy, but it was small and quiet, and you loved stopping in there for dinner after work. You were excited to bring Nestor, happy to show him that for all the hustle and bustle, there was still some peace and quiet to be found in the city.

“Y/N,” the hostess greeted you with a smile, “Always so nice to see you,” she looked over to Nestor and smiled, her voice cheery, “You brought company! Table for two?”

You nodded, holding in your laughter, “Yes, please.”

She swiped up two menus and motioned for you to follow her, “Right this way.”

The two of you sat down and you could tell that there was part of Nestor that was still tense, still trying to clock any potential threats. You reached over the table and rested your hands on top of his with a smile. You saw some of the tension disappear from his shoulders as he realized what he was doing.

“You’re off the clock, Nes,” you smiled, “Relax a little, yea?”

“Sorry, force of habit,” he shook his head.

You quickly switched the topic before he could get too into his own thoughts, “So how nice was it to have a break from me while I went to work today?”

He laughed, “You know I’d always rather spend the day with you than by myself.”

You felt your face get warm, “Yea? Six days and nights straight with me hasn’t made you sick of me yet?”

“Not yet,” he shook his head.

It was your first meal out together since he had come to town. He was so programmed to stay in as much as possible for security purposes. And you were enjoying having someone around who enjoyed cooking as much as he did. You cooked because you had to, but he actually loved doing it, so you let him. But this gave both of you the night off.

There was something intimate about being tucked away in the small restaurant together even though there were other people around. The evening ticked by as the two of you talked through dinner and drinks. You got to tell him all about work, which was a definite change of pace from him always being the one with work stories. Your job wasn’t quite as thrilling as his, but you usually clocked out with a story or two to share each day.

Nestor sipped on his beer as he listened intently to everything that you were telling him. He never wanted to take the opportunity to listen to you and see you face-to-face for granted again. From the look in his eye, you could tell that he was taking in every word that you were saying to him.

“I know you probably hear enough lawyer talk back home,” you said with a chuckle as you took a drink from your glass of wine, “Sorry if it’s a little redundant.”

He shook his head with a smile, “Not at all. Your lawyer stories are much more interesting than the ones back home. No one back home is a criminal lawyer.”

“Yea, crims always make for good stories,” you laughed.

Before either of you could jump into another story, your waiter walked up and set the check down in the middle of the table. She flashed a smile at the both of you, “No rush at all, but whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded with a smile, “Thank you.”

As she walked away, both you and Nestor reached for the check. You were anticipating it, though, so you were just a few moments quicker and snatched it up just in time. He huffed and shook his head at you and you threw your head back in laughter.

“Dinner on me, Nes.”

“C’mon, you’re letting me crash with you, the least I could do is pay for dinner.”

“I’m the only one of us who is currently working, so this is actually the smarter financial decision.”

He laughed, “I’m not unemployed, Y/N, I’m on vacation.”

“All the more reason for me to treat you to dinner,” you stuck your credit card into the check and handed it back to the waiter, who had been watching the two of you interact with a smile on her face.

The two of you made your way back out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk, each bundled up in your own puffy winter coat. You wrapped your scarf around your neck and buried your chin into it to protect it from the cold. Nestor was looking over at you with a gentle smile on his face. He stuffed one hand into his pocket while the other came to rest on the small of your back. You smiled over at him as you leaned gently against his side.

It wasn’t a terribly long walk home, but part of you wished that you could drag it out a little longer. Nestor’s arm was wrapped completely around your waist and he had you pulled tight against him. He let you go just long enough for you to unlock and open the front door to your house. As soon as the two of you were inside, he was helping you with your coat and scarf and for a brief moment you forgot that this wasn’t what your life was like—this was just a temporary fix for the both of you. Nestor still hadn’t really opened up about what made him decide to take time off so suddenly in the first place.

“It’s starting to get kinda late,” you watched as Nestor hung his own coat up, “wanna just watch movies upstairs?”

He nodded, “Sounds good.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “Good. Otherwise you’d have to carry me upstairs from the couch.”

He laughed, “I think I could manage that if I had to.”

The two of you were laid up in bed together, the way that you had been every night for the last week. Neither of you made any comment about it, not wanting to burst the bubble that you were in. Nestor rested his hand on your back while you laid on his chest, both of you only half paying attention to the movie that was on the screen.

You were so close to falling asleep when you heard the sound of Nestor’s phone vibrating on the nightstand beside the bed. He mumbled a quiet apology as he picked the phone up to see who was calling. With a heavy sigh he hit the reject button and put his phone on silent.

He didn’t make any comment about it, and you were about to let it slide, but you couldn’t pretend that his real life wasn’t going to start encroaching on your situation sooner or later. The fact that he’d gone a week without interruption was a huge feat in your mind.

“Galindo?” you mumbled against his chest.

“Not important,” he gently rubbed your back.

You looked up at him, “I mean, it might be a little important,” you offered up a tired smile.

He smiled, “I’m on vacation, remember?”

“Yea,” your voice was quiet as you idly traced patterns along his chest.

“What’re you thinking?”

You shrugged, “I just…what made you take the time off? I’ve known you forever and you’ve never just blipped off the radar like that.”

For a minute the only noise in the room came from the television. You thought that Nestor was really about to just avoid answering your question, and you weren’t really sure what you’d do if he did that. The two of you were always open about everything. What could be so secretive that he couldn’t let you in?

Finally, he spoke up, “I…caught some heat from Galindo over some things. Made some decisions that he didn’t agree with and it cost me my position.”

“He fired you?” you sat upright, eyes wide.

He shook his head, “No, not really. More like…demoted?”

“Jesus,” you rested your hand on the back of your neck, “Can I ask what you did?”

You could see it written all over his face that he was dreading you asking that question. You were hard pressed to believe, though, that it would be something so terrible that it would change anything between the two of you. You knew who Galindo was, and for as enamored as you were with Nestor, you were still realistic about who he was and what he had to do for work as well. Nothing could really be that shocking, right?

“I can’t lose you,” he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Hey,” you whispered as you gently cupped his face in your hands, prompting him to look at you, “you’re not going to lose me. Fuck, Nes, I feel like I just got you back. I’m not going anywhere,” you traced your thumb along his cheekbone, “You can tell me anything, I promise.”

He was silent for a few moments as he rested his hands over yours. He closed his eyes for a second before pulling you back towards him so you were laying with your head on his chest as he leaned back against the headboard of your bed. His heart was beating fast and hard enough for you to feel it against your cheek, and it was one of the only times you’d ever seen Nestor nervous about anything.

You listened intently as he started to outline everything that had been going on back home—the cartel, the rebels, and everything that came with it. The volume of his voice was hardly more than a whisper and yet it still drowned out the television as you leaned into every word that he said. His eyes weren’t meeting yours as he talked about the Galindo’s child, and the festival, and the church. He was focused on looking at your hand, that was absentmindedly tracing back and forth over his knuckles.

Whatever it was that you had been expecting him to tell you, the story you were listening to wasn’t it. You couldn’t deny that it was a bit of a pill to swallow, but again, you knew the world that Nestor lived in. How surprised could you really pretend to be that things got messy? You knew about the kind of things Miguel and his father did—the cartel was at the root of a lot of carnage. It was difficult, though, to picture the man who was laying in bed with you doing the things that he was describing to you. You were aware that he was capable of brute force, but he’s also the same man that for a week had been eating dessert in bed with you while you forced him to sit through Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix.

The clock on your nightstand ticked over to show you that it was 1AM. You looked up at Nestor as he fell silent after filling you in on everything that had happened before he showed up on your doorstep. You couldn’t believe that he had been bottling all of that up for so long.

“I’m so sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence, “I didn’t mean to bring all of this to you. I know you got out of Cali for a reason and I’m just dragging all this shit back into your life but I—”

You cut him off as you turned to face him, “Don’t apologize. I know you, Nestor. I know who you are, and who you are is never something that you need to apologize for. Never to me, okay?”

He nodded and you could see relief and a dozen other emotions swirling around his eyes, “I want to be the person you think I am, Y/N. I’m trying. But I just…don’t know if I can.”

You situated yourself so that you were sitting in his lap, facing him. You rested one hand on his chest, “You don’t have to try to be anything, okay? I don’t want you to change. You’re perfect as you are,” you rested your hands on his shoulders, “And you know me, if something about you bothered me, I would definitely fucking tell you.”

He let out a quiet laugh as his hands rested on your hips, “That’s true,” his expression sobered as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, “I don’t think I’ve ever really thanked you for how much of my weight you’ve shouldered over the years—all the secrets you’ve kept, all the advice you’ve given me. I…I think I took that for granted until you left.”

You became very aware of the warmth seeping from his hands into your sides as he pulled you closer to him. The weight of everything the two of you never said or did in all the years you’d known each other was suddenly starting to become unbearably heavy.

You lightly brushed your nose against his, “It’s the least I could do,” your heart felt like it was about to pound out of your chest, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved that’s never broken my heart.”

His body tensed and he pulled back so he could look into your eyes. It was out there now, and there was no taking it back. So many years and countless conversations spent skirting around it, and now there was no turning away from it. His eyes searched yours, as though he was trying to figure out if you were going to take back what you had just said. You held his gaze, letting him know that the last thing you were going to do now was try and backpedal.

Almost faster than you could keep up with, his one arm wrapped tight around your waist and his other hand landed on the back of your neck as he pulled you into a needy, years-in-the-making, kiss. Instinctively your hands landed on his chest, balling his t-shirt in your fists as you attempted to pull him as close as possible to you. His fingertips pressed harder into your back as his lips moved against yours, causing you to let slip a quiet moan.

You bit lightly at his bottom lip and you felt him lean farther into you. Your hands slid up from his chest and came to rest clasped together behind his neck. He couldn’t take his lips off of yours as his fingers traced along your cheek and jaw, trying to satiate years’ worth of hunger and longing.

You finally pulled back, needing to catch your breath. Nestor kept your body pressed tightly against his, foreheads touching. Both of your chests rose and fell quickly as you tried to process and recover from everything that had just happened. His hands returned to their gentle position just above your hips while yours rested on either side of his neck.

“I love you, Y/N,” his voice was gentler than you’d ever heard it, “I know I should’ve told you a long fucking time ago, but I love you. I love you so much.”

Heat washed over your entire body as you soaked up every word that he was saying, “I love you too. And, for what it’s worth, you’ve been telling me for years—it just sounded a little different.”

He chuckled before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You’re perfect.”

You trailed your fingers lightly through his facial hair, “I’m so glad that you’re here.”

He smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it, “I’m glad I am too,” he paused, “I don’t think that I can go back to the way my life was before all of this,” he shook his head slightly.

“Who says that you have to?”

He looked at you, “I can’t stay out here forever. And…and I could never ask you to give up your life here to come back to California.”

“I’ve loved you for years, Nestor. I loved you when I lived across the street from you, and I loved you when I lived across the country from you. That’s not going to change, whether we are in the same state or on opposite sides of the globe. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I’ll be loving you.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, “But I wanna love you like this, all the time.”

You smiled, softly resting your hand on the back of his head, “I know. We never get to have simple lives, huh?”

You felt the vibration of his laughter against the sensitive skin of your neck, “No, we don’t.”

“But we always figure it out, right?”

“Right,” he gave you a light squeeze.

“C’mon,” you flopped off to the side of him and pulled him down with you, “come lay with me.”

He laughed as you tangled your legs up with his and nestled your face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle and kissed the top of your head before letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

“You should stay home tomorrow,” he whispered into your hair.”

You chuckled and tilted your head to look up at him, “Oh, definitely.”

He leaned down and caught your lips in a soft kiss as his hand ran up and down your back, “I love you.”

You hummed in contentment, “I love you too.”

You rested your head back against his chest, and you felt his chin softly land on the top of your head as he pressed your body flush against his. You felt yourself melting into his body heat as the television continued to play softly in the background. There were still questions to be answered, and you’d confront them when the time came. But, for the first time in a long time, it felt like a weight had been taken off of your chest. And as you listened to Nestor’s steady breathing and heartbeat, you knew you weren’t the only one who felt a little lighter.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 66 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Katya decided that parenthood might be in the cards after all, Pearl couldn’t get Dahlia out of her head, and Violet worried that Sutan’s friends would never be able to respect her.

This Chapter: Brunches, presents, an announcement, a trip to the champagne room, and a new hire.

***

Sutan opened the door to his apartment, a smile blooming on his face at the fact that the light was still on, which meant Violet hadn’t gone to bed yet.

It was after 8, Sutan spending the day with Gigi and then going to a Christmas reception in the evening with Tamisha, his boss pleading with him to please come with her and make sure no one she hated talked to her, Sutan guarding her for the entire cocktail hour.

“Violet?” Sutan called out, hanging his jacket up and toeing his shoes off.

“Bathroom!”

Sutan walked through the apartment, the door to the bathroom open. Violet was standing at the sink, her fingers braiding her hair into French braids.

“Hey,” Violet smiled and gave him a quick kiss, her lips tasting faintly like sugary lip scrub. “I didn’t know if you’d be home, but I got dinner for you too.”

“What are we having?” Sutan leaned against the sink, watching Violet who unscrewed the lid on one of her face creams, scooping out a dollop and rubbing it into her skin.

“Lentil soup.”

“Yum.” Sutan drawled, his tone bone dry.

It wasn’t that he hated lentil soup, but he’d never understand why Violet ate it voluntarily when the entirety of Manhattan's takeaway options were open to her.

“Don’t act like that,” Violet huffed, holding up her hand with a bit of leftover face moisturizer, silently asking him if he wanted it and Sutan nodded, Violet’s fingers gliding over his cheek seconds later. “It’s good for you.”

“Do I at least get bread this time?” Sutan had to bite his lip not to smile, Violet looking at him like he had grown a second head when he had complained about the distinct lack of bread on his plate the last time she had ordered dinner.

“Yes,” Violet rolled her eyes, but she continued rubbing in tiny circles, even dipping her fingers again to make sure she had enough to cover his entire face.

“Lucky me,” Sutan wasn’t sure if he was talking about the bread, or about the strange little things Violet always tended to do for him, this little traditions of theirs starting in Paris when Violet had needed to get rid of some extra hand moisturiser and had ended up massaging it into his skin.

“Did you have a good day?” Violet ran a finger down his nose, the pressure weirdly comforting, her never ending attention to detail carrying into this as well, the finishing tap on his nose a sign that she was done.

“Very good.” Sutan smiled as he watched Violet wipe her hands, her bedtime routine done for now even though she was still in her work clothes. “Been all over the city. Shopping, dinner, the whole shebang since I’m training a new model.”

“Great.”

Violet wasn’t fully paying attention because she had already heard of days like that before, instead grabbing her crutches to get to the kitchen, but Sutan didn’t mind.

In past relationships, he would have been interrogated if he had said he had spent the day with a model, Kahmora in particular, always keeping an eye on him.

He hadn’t thought much of it then, hadn’t even considered that there could be anything wrong with it, after all, it showed that they cared, but he had to admit that it felt amazing that Violet trusted him to do his job and just his job.

“I put your soup in the fridge,” Violet made her way to the kitchen table, sitting down to keep him company while he ate his dinner. “Sorry that it’s cold.”

“I don’t mind,” Sutan pressed a quick kiss to her temple, walking over to the fridge. “Oh. Speaking of.” Sutan looked over his shoulder. “I got you something.”

“You did?”

“It’s on the table.” Sutan grabbed the container of soup, an order of bread lying untouched on the counter. “White plastic bag!”

Just like with the ring dish, Sutan hadn’t actually realised how often he just dumped his stuff on his kitchen table, the quick pitstop he had taken at home to change into evening wear just enough time to add to the ever growing pile that Violet patiently stacked against the wall every single day.

Sutan dumped the soup into a bowl, opening the cabinet that hid the microwave to pop it in.

“Sutan… What…” Sutan turned around, looking at Violet who was holding the iPhone 6 box he had picked up at the Apple store. “What’s this?”

“A phone?” He leaned against the counter, the microwave humming away. “I’m sure you’ve seen one before.”

“I understand that it’s a phone, but why are you giving this to me?”

Sutan paused, that question not at all the one he had expected. He was thankfully saved by a ding, the microwave telling him that his food was ready so he had time to think.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? They had the newest model in stock,” Sutan took his bowl, grabbing a spoon before he walked over to the table, Violet’s brown eyes following his every step. “And your phone is barely working.”

“I don’t think-” Violet pursed her lips, clearly swallowing her words. “I can buy my own phone.”

Sutan smiled. Of course. He should have seen it coming. You wouldn’t know it just looking at Violet, his girlfriend so prim and proper from the outside, but she was adorably non-materialistic if it didn’t concern clothes.

“You could, but you haven’t, and I happened to be at the Apple store.”

“I-” Violet looked at him, her brown eyes searching his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome lovely eyes,” Sutan captured her healthy foot under the table, holding it between his own. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

***

Bianca picked up the French press and poured herself a second cup of coffee, inhaling the fragrance as she lifted it to her lips. She and Courtney had been in bed all morning, but finally decided to wander downstairs for a very late breakfast.

She looked up to where Courtney stood at the stove, concocting some kind of tofu scramble.

“How’s it going over there?”

Courtney had insisted it was one of the few things she knew how to cook, happily chopping tomatoes, zucchini, shallots, and pretty much every other vegetable Bianca had on hand before dumping it all in a sizzling wok. Bianca was frankly unconvinced that she knew what she was doing, but told herself she’d eat it regardless.

“It’s great! Almost done!” Courtney chirped, adding what Bianca noted was a respectable amount of hot sauce for a white girl.

“Sounds great,” Bianca said, opening a cabinet to grab some plates.

“It’s so nice having a stove,” Courtney commented. She said it in a breezy, offhanded way, but it gave Bianca pause, turning towards her with a furrowed brow.

“You don’t have a stove?”

Courtney bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed, and explained, “Well, my place is a studio, and...uh, there’s not like a full kitchen.”

Bianca nodded, doing her best to keep the judgment off her face. No stove meant that whatever place Courtney was renting was not a real studio, and likely an illegal sublet. She shuddered to think of all the potential safety violations in that kind of set-up. Nevertheless, she decided to drop the subject, putting the plates down and slipping an arm around Courtney’s waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you for making breakfast, baby.”

“Anytime…” Courtney gave the pan another stir with a wooden spatula before leaning back against Bianca, letting her hold her even tighter.

“So listen...I, uh...have a proposal for you.”

“Oh?” Courtney tilted her head back, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, so, there’s this big fucking board meeting scheduled for January 6th, so I’m probably gonna stay in town over the holidays. I was thinking that maybe you could stay here, while Galactica’s shut down. With, uh, full stove access. Would you like that?”

Courtney whirled around, her beautiful face beaming, throwing her arms around Bianca’s neck and exclaiming, “I’d love it!”

Bianca leaned forward to capture her lips in a gentle kiss which soon grew deeper as Courtney arched against her, backing her up against the island. Bianca smiled against her mouth, unable to stop the dimples from piercing through as she thought about how lucky she was.

They stayed like that, blissfully wrapped in each other, until Bianca lifted her head to ask, “Is something burning?”

“Shit!”

***

“Mmh,” Trixie had to bite down a moan, his mouthful of waffles and bacon like an explosion of flavor. “Holy shit!”

“So?” Katya grinned, looking at him with her blue eyes. “Are they up to the standard?”

Their entire Sunday brunch crew, and even Violet, was gathered in their living room, Katya cooking for everyone, the table stacked with hearty and filling winter recipes like ginger and peach pudding, spiced sweet potatoes, apple pancakes and baked chickpeas.

“They’re amazing!” Trixie smiled, shoving another forkful down, the salt and the syrup perfect together.

“Awh thanks sugar butt,” Katya pressed a kiss against his cheek, which made Kim produce a retching noise.

“Take it to the bedroom you two!” Kim threw her napkin at them, which made Shangela snort and Ivy giggle.

“Be careful what you wish for Kimmie,” Pearl drawled, a stack of apple pancakes largely untouched on her plate, “because you really don’t want them to take it to the bedroom.”

“Everyone,” Max rolled his eyes, even though he was still smiling and Trixie snorted, a sense of pride welling up in his chest at Pearl’s words.

Sure, he and Katya had a tendency to be loud, but how could he not when Katya was the hottest woman alive, her innovation, commands and demands in the bedroom so fun and rewarding to follow.

“Actually,” Katya sat up straight, Trixie mourning the loss of her heat for a moment, until he recognized the serious expression on her beautiful face. “Trixie and I have an announcement.”

Everyone grew quiet, all watching them as Katya stood up.

“I’m pregnant...and we’re keeping it.”

At once, the table erupted in cheers, Ivy hopping up off the chair she was sitting on to go hug Katya, while Pearl made a beeline for the kitchen, yelling over her shoulder that she was getting the champagne.

“Congratulations!” Violet smiled, her hands clasped together. “That’s amazing!”

“It is,” Trixie smiled, warm happiness filling his entire body as he watched Katya laugh, Shangela joining in on the hug.

“Mama! I can’t believe you're gonna be a Mama!” Shangela grinned, holding Katya’s elbow and shaking her. “I thought you were completely set on never having kiddos?”

“I thought I was, but-” Katya looked at Trixie, their eyes meeting across the table. “It happened and, I mean. What’s the worst case scenario? That we fuck up and they become a serial killer?”

“Shit, that would be fucked up,” Kim snorted, her eyes widening. “Not that killer isn’t a cool name.”

“Now that’d be something!” Pearl grinned, returning to the living room with a bottle of champagne and several glasses, the stems between her fingers. She bent down, pressing her cheek against Katya’s stomach. “Hi Killer! We can’t wait to meet you!”

“Pearl!” Trixie swatted his best friend's shoulder, but Katya was laughing, holding Pearl’s head and pressing it against her stomach, and while Trixie seriously hoped his child wouldn’t become a serial killer, he had to admit that it was a little bit funny.

“Seriously,” Shangela looked around. “All y’all need Jesus. Stat.”

***

“Courtney,” Tyra said, rapping on the glass jewelry case to get her attention. “Courtney…”

“Court!” Morgan cut in sharply, and at that she finally looked up.

“You ready to take a break?” Tyra asked. “There’s a pho place right around the corner that we could try.”

“Oh, uh...yeah, just give me a couple of minutes.”

Tyra exchanged a put-upon look with Morgan, who returned her look with an exaggerated eye roll. When they’d suggested meeting up, neither of them were anticipating following Courtney around as she scoured antique stores to find the perfect Christmas present for Bianca.

She’d already found a huge book of 1960s fashion photography, as well as a vintage Hermes scarf, but apparently that wasn’t enough for her precious girlfriend. And worse, she’d been talking about nothing except Bianca all afternoon.

Tyra didn’t care if Courtney was gay or bi or whatever, but this slavish devotion to her brand new relationship was extremely tedious, and it made Tyra long for the days when Courtney would date men whose names she forgot three days later.

“Ooh, look at these!” Courtney exclaimed, pointing to a pair of earrings. “Aren’t they beautiful?!”

“Nice,” Morgan said, barely looking up from her phone.

They were nice. As annoyed as Tyra was, she had to admit that. They looked like brass, cut into art deco shapes and adorned with garnets, exactly the right style for Bianca, at least from what Tyra could tell from seeing her on TV.

“Excuse me,” Courtney asked the sales clerk, “How much are these earrings here? I can’t see the price tag.”

The clerk took a key and opened the case, pulling out the earrings to examine the price tag before declaring, “$279.”

Morgan whistled softly under her breath and the clerk raised one eyebrow, just barely but enough to be noticed.

“Shall I ring them up for you?” he asked drily, clearly expecting her to say no, already moving to put the earrings back into the case.

“Um…” Courtney bit her lip, fingertips resting on the edge of the glass.

“Court, you’re not seriously gonna spend that much are you?” Tyra asked, appalled. She’d seen Courtney’s apartment. That girl did not have a damn penny to spare.

“Yeah, she knows you’re poor, there’s no way she’s expecting some expensive gift,” Morgan added.

“No, I know, but…” Courtney squared her shoulders and looked at the sales clerk, saying, “I’ll take them.”

Tyra looked at Morgan behind her back, scandalized, shaking her head. Morgan smothered a laugh with her hand and gave a little shrug as if to say, ‘It’s her credit card debt.’

***

Pearl was back at the club again. At 4 pm on a Sunday. Which was totally normal, right?

Right.

She sighed slightly, swirling the whiskey in her glass, unable to hear the clink of ice cubes over the pounding bass. She should definitely leave, she knew that, and told herself that she would… She wasn’t going to say that she was obsessed, wasn’t going to give in to the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about Dahlia, but she was leaning on the side of pathetic, and if there was one thing Pearl Liaison didn’t do, it was pathetic.

She probably had to rethink that though, as she handed one of the managers 200 dollars in cash, the man taking her to a small enclosed room, a heavy red curtain blocking out the rest of the club.

Her stripper alias was “Sin,” which was both absurdly simple and painfully fitting, Pearl drawn to her dangerous beauty like a spell, hungry for even the smallest taste of her.

Pearl tapped her fingers against her thigh, her lip between her teeth, when she heard a voice come from the doorway.

“Well well well,” Dahlia smirked, pushing the curtain aside.  “Look who’s back.”

Pearl felt her heart skip a beat as Dahlia gave her a slow once-over, her bedroom eyes even sexier when she was so close. Today’s outfit was a sinful (fitting) red set, a garter belt digging into Dahlia’s soft tan skin.

“Mmmh.” Pearl tried to keep her face blank and expressionless, tried desperately to hang onto the last bit of control, but she couldn’t stop her heart from speeding up as Dahlia made her way across the room, her palms getting sweaty as she swayed her hips to the music.

“So,” Dahlia smiled, swinging a leg over Pearl’s lap. “You know the rules right?”

She smelled like peaches, and Pearl had to dig her fingers into the velvet of the couch she was sitting on.

“No touching,” Dahlia reminded her, full lips twisted into a smirk.

“I’ve never been a fan of rules.”

“Good thing that isn’t up to you then,” Dahlia sat down, and Pearl had to bite back a groan as she took her weight, the woman an insane tease. “Promise me that you’ll be good?” Dahlia tilted her head, her lips slightly separated, “or I promise you that a bouncer will kick your ass to the curb.”

“Shit, right, right.” Pearl nodded, and Dahlia grinned.

“Good girl.”

Pearl swallowed. Dahlia reached out, grabbing a remote from behind Pearl, a small speaker inside their room powering up, and Pearl was in heaven as she began to move.

To call it a dance would be generous, but Pearl didn’t care. She was mesmerized by her curves, watching her with rapt attention as she swayed her hips, bent down to slowly unhook the garters, leaving them dangling. Dahlia was sin personified, her bra holding her perfect tits in place, the promise of hard nipples just underneath the lace.

Dahlia turned around, and Pearl knew instantly that she worked out, her ass round and firm, the kind of deliciousness that only came from discipline and hard work. A quick motion and her bra was now unhooked. She let the straps slide off her shoulders, finally dropping the bra on the ground.

“Turn around,” Pearl whined, unable to help herself, and Dahlia looked back over her shoulder, dark eyes flashing with amusement.

“You really want it, huh?” she asked, and Pearl nodded vigorously.

“Uh huh.”

Dahlia turned back slowly, hands demurely covering her chest, lashes fluttering.

“Please…”

She kneeled on the couch, straddling Pearl’s thighs before removing her hands, arching up forward to display her glorious tits, brown nipples hard and so, so close.

Pearl bit back a whimper, and Dahlia began to roll her hips slowly, inching closer and closer until her perfect mouth was right up against Pearl’s ear.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“How much I hate rules,” slipped out of Pearl’s mouth before she thought better of it, and Dahlia laughed.

“Poor thing...” Dahlia clucked, taking Pearl’s hand from the arm of the sofa and inching it towards her body. First her thigh, skating her fingertips higher and higher up her beautiful tan skin, flashing the naughtiest smile as she got closer to her lace, barely-there panties.

Pearl’s chest heaved, and Dahlia laughed, right in her face, redirecting her hand higher and higher, palm very nearly brushing against one of her pert nipples, finally letting it rest on her bare shoulder as Dahlia ran her own fingers teasingly across Pearl’s.

She arched forward again, those incredible tits grazing Pearl’s own chest. Pearl squirmed painfully on the sofa as Dahlia body-rolled against her, not daring to move her hand from where it was placed, fingers digging into the smooth skin.

She was close, could feel herself on the edge, and orgasm so close just from this, and then suddenly the song had ended, and Dahlia hopped up off her lap, re-clipping her garters, picking up her bra from the floor.

Pearl tried one last hail Mary, hoarsely saying, “Give me your number.”

Dahlia laughed, shaking her head. “No way. This...this is business.” She gestured to the room around them. “That would be...not. And anyway, what would your girlfriend say?”

“She-” Pearl swallowed. “We broke up.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“We did!” Pearl sputtered. “It’s true.”

“Yeah, well, even so...you do know I’m her friend, right?” Dahlia asked pointedly.

“Well…”

“Exactly,” Dahlia said, shaking her head again. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“I want to see you again,” Pearl said.

“You can see me anytime,” she said sweetly, adding pointedly, “As long as you bring cash,” before leaving, shutting the curtain behind her.

Pearl let her head drop back against the sofa, a deep sigh leaving her. Fuck.

***

“So,” Trixie tried not to tap his fingers or look at himself as he watched his computer screen, Skype pulled up.

Trixie didn’t like doing job interviews, the process tedious and draining each and every time, living up to Fame’s expectations and wishes difficult on a good day.

Interviews, however, were especially draining when it happened digitally, trying to act natural hard enough on its own when on screen, but as the manager and department head, it was his responsibility to feel out potential hires, to figure out if they’d fit with his team or not, but he had a decent feeling with this one.

“Are you interested?”

“Fuck yes!”

Trixie had to hide a grin, Aurora practically beaming through the screen. She was very pretty with tan skin, white blonde hair and full brows, the striped shirt she was wearing fashionable and fun.

Aurora had an impressive portfolio, her references were decent, and most importantly, she seemed like someone Fame could be impressed with if given time and guidance.

“Oh fuck-” Aurora grimaced, the enthusiasm gone for a second before she recovered, trying to play it cool. “I mean yes. Yes I’d love that.”

“Great.” This time, Trixie couldn’t hold back the laugh, Aurora probably fitting right into his department if she could keep the attitude in check.

“Our legal department will take care of your visa,” Trixie jotted down that he’d have to talk to Rita, work permits always a massive pain in the ass, “but you’re starting January 10 either way, and hopefully you won’t have to work remotely for long.”

[lunaleetarot]

Capricorn Year Ahead Birthday Spread

Starting from the top clockwise, theme in the middle.

1. December 2020- The World- This card usually means you will have a good outcome. You have completed one stage of your life, and now you're moving on to the next. You’re made your goals a reality, and now you want to make new ones. Often you see this card with newlyweds in marriage or someone who started their own business. You will need to get comfortable in your new life. This is a travel card. You may be more involved in issues going on around the world. With the pandemic going on, this meaning may not resonate with most of you but I want to point out that it is a potential interpretation. 

2. January 2021-Death- As we move into 2021, you are undergoing a transformation. Perhaps you were warming up to a new life change last month and now you're ready to make that change happen with the death card. Although the name of this card is enough to turn you off, it could mean something as simple as a career or love life metamorphosis. You will be faced with a life changing decision. Sometimes we need endings to move on to something better, so this may not necessarily be a bad thing. Usually this is a dramatic change. You won’t come out of this the same person you were before. Keep in mind this card does have a sinister meaning. This change is going to be drastic. It can mean literal death, but it doesn’t always have to. The best case scenario for your January outcome is that this is the beginning of a blessing in disguise. You will likely feel sad or depressed over these events and should take extra care of yourself. Especially if this is an unwelcome change. This is a Scorpio card, so you may be dealing with one of them.

3. February 2021-The Emperor- This February you are going to achieve a level up in status. You will be an authority figure, or will have an authority figure take you under their wing and pull you up. I feel this has to do with career advancement. This will likely be a male. This is a person you love, that is in a higher social standing than yourself. You will have powerful and stable people around you. It could be in your career, where people see potential in you and want to promote you or invest in you in some way. Remember you don’t know everything. There’s a lot to be learned from this person. No matter how smart or capable we are, we need to enlist help to achieve our goals. If this doesn’t apply to your career, it could be your father, father-figure or husband. This is an Aries card so you are likely dealing with someone of that sign here. 

4. March 2021- The Fool- While winter melts away and spring begins to bloom, you will go through yet another transitional period. New beginnings for you this Spring!  I feel like you had one stable month in February, and now your back at the drawing board ready to reinvent yourself once again. You will have a burning desire to try something new. In this case I think you should go for it! If you overthink it you’ll only come up with reasons why you shouldn’t. Perhaps you are comfortable in February’s stable situation but you don’t find it rewarding emotionally or spiritually? I feel if you follow your heart's desires, all will go well.  However if this is nothing but pure rebellion be mindful of what you’re doing. Don’t just run away from your responsibilities. If you are no longer happy in February’s outcome there is the “right way” and a “wrong way” to leave it. This card can also mean someone else will do the running from you, so keep that in mind. This may be a risk that has no promise of reward, as a Capricorn I’m not sure you will be comfortable with that. You may go through a period of uncharacteristic indecisiveness. On the positive sign I feel you will have a lot of fun this month. You will have a level of enthusiasm and a thirst for life that will help you recover from January. Just don’t let your behavior get too wild. Especially if mental health is a concern for you. 

5. April 2021- Four of Pentacles- In April, you are going to be holding on tightly to all you have. This is a card about possessions and possessiveness. You need to pay attention to how much your financial habits and health.  In more extreme cases, this could be hoarding behavior. Perhaps all the change you went through in the beginning of the year has made you want to hold on to what you have. However it’s unlikely you will want to share with others. You may be holding onto things that no longer serve you. This doesn’t have to just mean material things, it can be emotions or relationships you’ve outgrown but keep holding onto. In love, you may want your lover all to yourself. You refuse to let them go. This behavior may make you look needy or even worse obsessed. After awhile this behavior may annoy your partner and push them away. If you’ve been supporting a family member, you are no longer going to be footing the bill. You feel like you shouldn’t have to cover their groovy lifestyle. Or it could be vice versa. Assign the roles as you will. This could also indicate a revision of a will or inheritance. However if you have money, you are lucky to be in the position to hoard in the first place. Many are struggling right now and don’t have it as easy. Keep that in mind when you cling to your purse strings. There’s nothing wrong with being frugal, but don’t become cheap. This is your own card, so I feel this is your energy. However it’s possible you could be dealing with a fellow Capricorn.

6. May 2021-Five of Cups- In May you will be hit with a wave of sadness. You may have fallen into self pity and don’t know what your next move will be. This is a shift for you into being more concerned about your personal relationships than you have been for the year so far. This is a break up card. I feel the overbearing behavior from last month will bring your relationship to an end. This is going to be very hard for you to deal with, but rest assured there is someone out there who is better for you. You and this person you're having the break up with weren’t a good match, your personalities weren’t compatible. But you don’t see that yet. Your life is not over by any means, Capricorn. Nonetheless, you are feeling doom and gloom over it. You should seek help for your feelings from a therapist or people who are understanding in your life. Just don’t try to battle this alone. If that doesn’t apply. It could mean a  fall out in your career. This will seem bad at first but you will gain valuable experience. Divorce and strained friendships could be at play here. All is not lost here, you will get a second chance after the dust settles. The universe likes people who get back up after being knocked down. This is another Scorpio card.

7. June 2021-Seven of Cups- Halfway through the year you will be faced with decisions. You will be faced with many valid choices, and will have to pick one. To make it even more tricky you will have a time frame to make the decisions. If you don’t make your choice soon you could go from having many options to having none. You will also hear a lot of opinions about it too, everyone in your life is going to give you their two cents. Keep in mind not everyone knows your situation or has your best interest at heart. The work you do this month will dictate what your future looks like. One positive thing about having a lot of options is that you will be living a comfortable lifestyle. However nothing is guaranteed in your future so think about what's best for you down the road. This is yet another Scorpio card!

8. July 2021- Six of Cups- Something or someone from your past is going to reemerge this month. This is the “ex” card. So if you want to get back with your ex-lover this is a welcome sign. If that doesn’t apply to you this is also a family expansion card. A case of childhood nostalgia may resurface because you are dealing with adult responsibilities now. If you want to have a baby this card is a good sign. This card can also mean the house you grew up in, or town. It’s up to you to apply how this would fit into your life. On the negative side, there may be people from your past coming back that you don’t want to see, or old drama coming out when you don’t want it to. Something near and dear to your heart may vanish this month. Watch out, because this could be because you are neglecting the things you care about. This is yet another Scorpio card.

9. August 2021- Queen of Cups- You have a loyal female in your life with strong intuition. She’s sympathetic towards those she loves. This could be your own energy or a female who is close to you like your mother, sister or wife. This person puts others before herself. No matter what she has their back. Sometimes this can be a negative when you're looking at a situation with rose colored glasses. This card can also mean you need to take on the traits of this person. You may not be thinking of the other’s point of view or you're just being down right selfish. You should aspire to be more like the Queen of Cups. How can you be more understanding of other people’s feelings? You may be dealing with someone born on the Gemini-Cancer cusp (June 19-24).

10. September 2021-Ace of Cups- As we roll into September, we see the ace of cups which usually means a sweet and pure love! I believe this could mean the start of a new relationship for you! So expect your love life to be of interest to you this month. However this may not be a long term relationship, but enjoy it while it lasts. This is also a pregnancy card. Specifically the birth of a female child. If this doesn’t apply to you it could be your mother, sister, or someone close to you. This card can also mean a new beginning after a tragic ending. This card also means you will have a lot of dinner dates with friends and family. Hopefully we won’t have to socially distance anymore by then!

11. October 2021-Queen of Swords- With the queen of swords for your October, Halloween hi jinks will be the least of your worries. There will be a female in your business who loves drama and conflict. You may already know who this person is. She just wants to know the news of your life, she does not actually care about you as a person. Beware because this month she will be more involved in your life. This is a period of your year where you are going to feel very lonely. If none of this applies to you, it’s possible you need to adapt the queen of swords mentality. This person is very direct and to the point. I feel you are like this as well Capricorn. Even if she comes across as sort of a, well, bitch- at least others know where they stand with her. She tells it like it is. You may need to stand on your own two feet here and stop relying on others. You’ve got this Capricorn! You may be dealing with someone born on the Virgo-Libra cusp (September 19-24).

12. November 2021- The Chariot- This November will be a month of triumph for you! You will succeed in all of your endeavors this month. You won’t have any competitors. You will have an abundance of energy to make this all happen. However you may step on a few toes to get yourself in a higher status. The chariot can mean that you will use other people to get what you want. You should try to keep this behavior in check. Enjoy your accomplishments, but don’t live off them for too long. If you start to look down on others you will lose their respect. Modesty will benefit you in the long run. If you have a driving test coming up, you will likely ace it! If you are in a position of power watch how you treat your employees. You may be dealing with a Cancer here.

13. Theme of the Year- Seven of Swords- You or someone else in your life is causing trouble this year. Drama and conflict accompany this card. You're surrounding yourself with people who are not loyal to you. When they sell you out, it’s going to leave you feeling hurt and betrayed. You may get the blame for something you didn’t do. This is likely someone who is trying to cover up their own bad behavior. You will become the scapegoat. This person may be you. Consider if you are the type of person who tries to cover up their own bad behavior instead of facing the consequences. In less extreme cases this card can mean self-deception. You may be forcing yourself into believing you are happy with something you aren’t. This will start to affect you emotionally this year. Play your cards close to the chest. Be honest with yourself about what it is you truly want. You may be dealing with an Aquarius in this situation or someone of this sign will have a major impact in your year ahead.

[astroaedes]

THE YEAR AHEAD FOR NCT 127

This reading was conducted on January 28, 2021.

January - March // Seven of Coins

This will be a time of patience and inaction for the group. Things are in place but progress cannot occur at the moment - people are not ready, specifics are not yet known. A new project has been started (most likely a new album or even a tour) but the timing is not right and they will need to wait for the ideal moment to bring it to life. I know that Taeyong is taking a break right now so this is potentially talking about waiting for him to return. If it’s a tour that they are planning, they may need to wait for travel restrictions to ease.

April - June // Knight of Swords

A member might speak out publicly during this time either in support of something/someone or against them. The Knight of Swords uses his words to fight his battles so if new music is coming out the lyrics may be a bit fiesty, reactionary or argumentative. Caution should be taken here - the Knight of Swords operates from his mind not his heart so this member must ensure that their intentions are pure and that they have considered all consequences and outcomes. This card has associations with Gemini so it could involve Taeil or Haechan. This card also appeared in a reading I did for Taeyong so maybe we will hear some new solo music from him.

July - September // Queen of Wands

The Queen of Wands is all about desire and attraction so this could be a really good time for NCT 127 in terms of attracting fans and recognition. A key phrase for this card is “Be the flame and not the moth” so they could experience a sudden rise in popularity and receive plenty of offers from other performers, TV shows, brands etc. The group may also have a ~sexy~ or mature concept during this time. There is also the possibility of travel. 

October - December // Wheel of Fortune

This is a pretty big card to end the year on. The Wheel of Fortune represents everything in life we have no control over - luck, fate, karma. This will be an important period for the group and big things will be happening. An important aspect of The Wheel of Fortune is that you can either be on the top or bottom of wheel so it’s hard to say whether this will be a positive or negative experience for them. Things may start to move quickly for them and their career but will they be able to keep up?

Overall Theme // The Hermit

The Hermit is certainly an interesting card to appear in a group reading - it is the major solitary card of the tarot. This could be a year of prominent solo activities for the group. The Hermit also reminds us to search for guidance within rather than from external sources so the members could experience a lot more independence this year. I’m not too sure how strict SM is but they may allow the group to have a lot more agency over their music, performance, styling, the types of promotional activities they do etc.

[dark-nat-ones-blessing]

At long last, I’m finally able to post the Tarokka portraits I painted for my Curse of Strahd party! I’ve been sitting on these since January, waiting to reveal them...and it’s finally time.

More about the party, and the cards, under the cut.

Clay Mildflower, Halfling Ranger

“A deceptive card. You look on him, and you think - gods, what a fearsome face, hmm? But he is just a spirit of the past, child - and such spirits seek you now. He cannot help that he is not a pretty thing.”

The party’s cinnamon roll, too good for Barovia, too pure. Eager to learn, eager to listen, and willing to believe the possibility of good in anyone - even zombies and extraplanar aliens. Despite being the adoptive son of a dwarven scholar with all the thirst for knowledge and bookishness such a life fostered in him, Clay is drawn inexorably to the wilderness and the nature his father found him among.

But under that sweet, soft exterior lies a surprising amount of resolve. Of all the party, he’s been the least cowed by Barovia’s horrors. And the least squeamish! Curiosity and need to understand overrides any ick factor, so if the party need someone to examine a body, Clay’s the halfling for the job.

(He's also been picking up pets at a rate of knots: since his arrival in the party, they have gained two dogs and two birds.)

-

Arturo, Firbolg Paladin - @lucy-whitechicken

“Ah, the Mists. This card speaks of struggle. Of seeking in the gloam, of battling storms of the spirit. Truer here than ever, lost lover, you will be tested. Do not lose heart. Hold fast to that light of yours.”

It would be extremely reasonable to mistake Arturo for a bard if you were to sight him out of his gleaming coppery armour - he lives a life of song and poetry, roaming without any particular aim or direction to spread the joy of nature through lilting word and music. Before being spirited away to Barovia it would not be unusual to find him in a tavern, chatting away, telling tales of joy and wonder, or hitching rides with travelling bands.

Arturo's taken on the role of protector figure within the party, and fast became attached to the small and nature-loving halfling Clay. He'll not stand for injustice or needless harm, and the all-pervading unnatural aura of Barovia has left them unsettled in the extreme. To realise not a soul in this land has ever seen a blue sky overhead...that is true horror.

-

Maerilyth Ondorren-Vandiir, Wood Elf Rogue - @1nchwyrm

“You are no raven, girl. But I see the intent in the reading. Little magpie, this card speaks of potential. You fly alone, you are bad luck no matter how much shine you line your nest with. Is that not the saying? One for sorrow. Ravens know better.”

Some young nobles grow into their roles and responsibility admirably. Maerilyth Ondoren-Vandiir, unfortunately, is not those young nobles. No, she's had a hundred years of living large, enjoying the seemingly-endless well of the family coffers and all the luxuries that gold can buy. Until her parents decided enough was enough, that is. No more raging parties. No more making eyes at her new favourite stable-hand through the window and ignoring all that her tutors so desperately tried to teach her. And definitely no more using the family gold on ear extensions, or anything else for that matter.

Alas, all that resulted was a very proficient teen shoplifter.

The brightest and most responsible member of the party Maerilyth may not be, but she’s light on her feet, has a knack for unorthodox problem-solving and is no stranger to the power of a confidently delivered lie. And perhaps Barovia will be the education in consequences that her parents failed to instill...

-

The Cards

Upon awakening in Barovia, each of the party discovered a card wrapped in black silk on their person: The Ghost, The Mists, and the Raven. There was all kinds of speculation on their meaning, but only last session have they had the chance to have the cards interpreted by someone familiar with the symbology of the Tarokka - the mysterious Madam Eva herself, who seemed...less than impressed by the rudeness of whatever foolish person performed this secret reading.

Who is responsible for that, the party is yet to uncover.

It’s been absolutely killer sitting on these drawings since January, unable to post them anywhere!! When I finished them, I was sure I’d only be a couple of sessions before I could reveal them....but then some life things happened and there was an unexpected hiatus. I’m so, so glad to be back - and the amount of yelling that happened when I gave them the handouts made it so, so worth the wait. <3 I have the best players and best friends.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy One

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

January 10th, 1997

Remy was looking at the test his latest table-mate had given him and he frowned. “What’s so bad about it?” he asked.

“It’s a ninety seven!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, so? I barely got a seventy two,” Remy said with a shrug. “It’s okay to not get everything perfect, or even close to perfect. All that matters is that you pass.”

“Figures you’d see it that way,” she scoffed. “You don’t care about grades at all. Do you even know where you’re going to college?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, Cindy,” Remy said. “I’m fifteen. I don’t have to care yet.”

She scoffed again and stormed off as the bell rang and Remy rolled his eyes. Another potential friendship avoided. Good. He had been worried he wouldn’t be able to shake this one. And perfectionists rubbed him a very particular wrong way that was not pleasant.

  September 5th, 2002

Remy was working in the kitchen when Emile came up from behind him for a hug. “Hey, love,” Emile said.

“Mm, hi, mio amore,” Remy said. “Decided you’re finally ready for lunch?”

“Yeah. I was just doing some drawing earlier to fulfill the art class requirement I’ve been putting off, but the drawings are done for now. I just want to eat,” Emile said with a laugh.

“What were you drawing?” Remy asked.

“You,” Emile said. “Like, it wasn’t realistic figure drawings because I wasn’t looking at you, but I was working in different cartoon styles, and I figured I may as well draw one of the people I know best.”

Remy turned a slight red even as he continued to work. “Do I get to see these drawings eventually?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Emile said. “So long as you don’t tell me that my imitations of my favorite cartoon styles suck.”

“I would never say that,” Remy said. “You’re a pretty good drawer, actually. Maybe not make-a-living-off-it good, but definitely a your-art-shows-lots-of-care good.”

“Really?” Emile asked, and he looked surprised.

Remy paused in his work and faced Emile fully. “Yeah, Emile. You’re really good at art.” Emile frowned, and Remy mirrored the action. “Is there any reason that you wouldn’t think that?” Had he just found one of Emile’s insecurities?

“I mean, I guess not, it’s just...” Emile shrugged. “There’s a lot of things wrong with it. It’s like when I get a question wrong on a test. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t fix it.”

Remy squinted and walked past Emile, to the card table, where his sketchbook was still open. “Emile, your drawings look fine.”

“Fine, sure. But they’re not exactly good,” Emile said, walking over and pointing. “See, the eyes are slightly off compared to the She-Ra style, and in the Looney Tunes style I can’t get the hands and the fingers properly. And these are just the sketches I’m okay with other people seeing.”

Remy stared at Emile, then at the drawings, then Emile. “Emile, I’m not a cartoon expert like you are, but I know enough about art style differences from comics to understand this was just done by a different artist. It’s not wrong, it’s just a slight difference, like what can happen when more than one animator works on a project. The difference is that in animation, the frames go by so fast that it’s usually imperceptible.”

“No, it’s not the same style if it doesn’t look exactly the same. Otherwise it’s just an imitation,” Emile said.

“Okay...correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you were just going for an imitation,” Remy said.

“I mean, yeah, but I realized how close I was and wanted it to be in the genuine style...and I couldn’t get it,” Emile mumbled the last part, turning away.

“What do you mean, honey? You definitely got it right,” Remy said.

“But I didn’t,” Emile argued.

Remy blinked. “Okay, maybe it’s not perfect, but—”

“—See?! You just said yourself that I didn’t get it!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy paused. Took a breath. Let it out slowly. “That’s not what I said,” he said calmly. Forcing away the irritation at being interrupted and the annoyance that Emile was apparently not listening to him. “I said you didn’t have it perfect. Not having it perfect doesn’t mean you don’t have it.”

“Yes it does!” Emile exclaimed with a huff.

The irritation faded away and was replaced with a blooming bud of concern. “No, it doesn’t, Emile...why would you think that?”

Emile laughed incredulously. “Do you really not know?”

“No,” Remy said. “I really don’t.”

“When I was in kindergarten the first time around, I was ‘the stupid one.’ I know you’ve heard this before, but listen. When it clicked and I finally knew how to read, I went to the top of my class in just about everything. Suddenly, school was impossibly easy. And everything I did was just considered perfect, perfect, perfect. That’s all it could be, that’s all it can be. I’m not allowed to fail. Because if I fail, then I’m just that stupid five-year-old who couldn’t even spell his own name. And suddenly everyone starts questioning me, saying they thought I was smart, I was supposed to understand this, and isn’t it easy? Why am I struggling?! I just need to push through until I understand, but I’m not even allowed to ask for help, because oh, that’s just for the stupid kids, Emile, and you’re not stupid! If something isn’t perfect, then it’s a problem. And I’m not supposed to have any more problems. Not after that.”

Remy didn’t know what to say. “Christ, Emile,” he breathed. “That’s terrible.”

Emile laughed and shook his head. “Not particularly,” he said, even as he was starting to cry. “Just the burden of being the smart kid, I guess. You have to keep up the appearance even if you have no idea what you’re doing. Because otherwise all the teachers see is that dumb kid who couldn’t tell the difference between an ‘o’ and a ‘v.’”

“I thought only your teen years were traumatic, but Christ. That’s just...I don’t have any words. I was never really ‘the smart kid,’ I never had to deal with that, but...wow, so many things make sense now,” Remy said. He shook his head. “Not the point, not the point. Okay. Emile, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen to me when I say it, okay?”

Emile took off his glasses, wiping away his tears, and he nodded. “I’m listening.”

Remy grabbed Emile’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. “You have my explicit permission to fail.”

“You...what?” Emile asked.

“You have my permission to fail. Okay? If you don’t get everything perfect, you’re not stupid in my eyes. If your graduating GPA is three point nine, I won’t focus on the one class you got a ‘B’ in. I’ll focus on the fact that all your other classes you aced with all ‘A’s! That’s freaking amazing! I would never be able to do that! If you get one thing wrong, if you ‘fail’ in your eyes, that’s okay. No one can be perfect all the time. It’s okay to need help. It’s not just for people who are struggling. This operates on the same principles as therapy. Therapy is not just for people who are drowning in their own emotions, it’s also to teach those people how to swim, or to find a boat. The same is true if you have to ask a professor a question, or enlist the skills of a tutor. You’re not stupid for doing those things, you’re learning more so you don’t make the same mistakes in the future.” Remy kissed Emile. “You’re not stupid, Emile, and you never have been stupid. ‘Stupid’ as a concept is just...well, it’s stupid. It makes no sense. And getting one or two questions wrong on a test doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It means you got all the other questions right, and you get to learn from those mistakes.”

Emile blinked. “What if I get all the questions wrong?” he asked, voice small.

“You’re still not stupid. You just need to stress less and maybe study harder next time. But I doubt that would happen, okay? You’re Emile freaking Thomas, and you can do anything you set your mind to. Don’t sell yourself short,” Remy said, giving Emile a crooked grin at the end.

Emile slowly removed Remy’s hands from his face and stared at the floor. “Honey, I appreciate the sentiment, but...I can’t just stop this. I’ve been doing it for fifteen years.”

“I know you can’t just stop it at will, honey, that’s not what I’m asking of you,” Remy said. “I’m asking you to go a little easier on yourself. You don’t have to be perfect. If you get everything right, more power to you, but beat yourself up a little less if you make a mistake. If you do nothing else, at least remind yourself that you have my permission to fail? That no one will hate you or think that you’re stupid if you mess up?”

“I...” Emile trailed off, actually considering Remy’s words, which Remy counted as a win. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Emile said, not looking Remy in the eye, but his tone sounded hopeful. “It would be nice to not feel like everything has to be perfect, I think.”

“You’ll either find it incredibly liberating or incredibly terrifying, I think. Possibly both,” Remy said drily.

Emile snorted. “I’m willing to bet you’re right,” he said with a nod. “I’ve never really considered what it would be like to be allowed to fail. Even when we moved out of the college dorms, I didn’t think about the possibility of failing and not managing our money correctly, because failure just wasn’t an option. And I guess it saved us issues with rent and food and the like, but I’m willing to bet it did a number on my mental health too. Just a hunch.”

Remy laughed. “Honey, you’ve worked yourself sick before because you’re so focused on helping friends and going to work and keeping that perfect GPA. I know for a fact that it’s done a number on you not only mentally, but physically.”

“Okay, I see your point,” Emile said with a slightly sheepish smile. “That was me going a little overboard.”

“More than a little,” Remy said with a snort. “That in and of itself was a bit of a failure. Failure to take care of yourself.”

Emile went oddly quiet, before he softly went, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Remy asked.

“I have failed in the past, then,” Emile said. “And you didn’t change how you treated me. I mean, you might have called me stupid for pushing myself too far and getting myself sick, but you didn’t...treat me like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“That’s because you do know what you’re doing,” Remy said. “Making one or two mistakes, or outright failing doesn’t mean you don’t know anything. It means you might need things explained to you in a different way, or just explained period, but you know way more than most people, Emile. I would argue you’re smarter than most twenty one year olds I’ve met. At least, academically. Street smarts are another story.”

“Look, that was one time I got lost on the way home from McDonald’s!” Emile defended. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have street smarts!”

Remy burst out laughing. “No, that means that you have no sense of direction, and no street smarts.”

“This coming from the guy who purposefully picked a fight with a guy who was buddies with linebackers from the football team,” Emile snorted. “That’s not exactly prime ‘street smarts’ either, mister.”

“Okay, okay, so we’re both dumbasses coming to street smarts! I still know more than you on that front!” Remy exclaimed.

“Oh, you wish!” Emile declared, “I’d bet actual money that I have more street smarts than you.”

“A fool and his money are soon parted,” Remy said with a wicked grin. “But fine. If you’re so certain, let’s get an impartial party to determine this. Next time we see Bernie, we’ll ask him. But be prepared to lose whatever money you’re betting!”

“We have joint bank accounts in all but name anyway,” Emile said with a shrug. “We regularly buy stuff for each other. What difference does it make if that money is in my account or yours?”

“You have a point,” Remy hummed. “Okay. How about we bet food? If you win, we get the stuff to bake cupcakes. If I win, we get the stuff for brownies. And the loser has to help bake the sweets that we’ll be eating for the next two weeks or so.”

“Oh, you are so on!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy grinned. Emile was hopefully going to go a little easier on himself, and Remy was going to get to eat brownies next week! This was great!

[bird-in-a-cage]

@hotdadlicense, part two of your ask!

#45 “Lets get wasted and then go piss on his grave.”

Release

Hawkins had exactly two bars; the bar out east and the bar our west. The bar out east was called Dixies’, it was definitely the rowdier of the two, notoriously known for not carding so it was wildly popular with college kids returning home for the holidays desperate to escape the crushing boredom of family life, and old enough looking high school kids. The cops tended to leave it alone, maybe raiding once or twice a year but always with a few hours notice. As far as law enforcement was concerned if these kids were in a building drinking they weren’t doing it on the street, so less work for them and the community. For the greater good and all that crap. 

The bar out west was called The Tavern. It was a little more old school. The wall behind the bar was lined with whiskey and bourbon bottles rather than tequila and different flavoured sambucas. It had an older clientele. Steve liked working there, whenever he came back from college for the holidays and wanted to pick up a few shifts here and there to help save money to move to Chicago permanently. He didn’t like drinking there though, the air was too smokey and there wasn’t a good looking person in sight, but in many ways they helped. Dixies’ was for fun. The Tavern was for work. Regulars seemed to like him too, only if they could ask about his father and what the old man was up to now, trying to rub elbows for a potential business deal or to get an invite to the Christmas party up at the cabin. Steve was more than used to it, played along just enough to bump his tips.

They didn’t need to know he hadn’t spoken to either of his parents in a good six months, and that his father was busy cosying up to some woman younger than Steve in Milan or that his mother was getting trashed daily in the Bahamas, making eyes at pool boys. Frankly Steve didn’t need to know that either, why they didn’t just divorce years back he never understood. But then, he never really understood his parents on any level.

So, whenever he would come back to the holidays it was purely to make money. He had an empty house to live in and didn’t have to pay a dime for apart from to put food in the fridge. He would rather stay in Chicago though. He liked his life up there. It was so different from being stuck in small town America where nothing exciting happened. The most exciting thing that had happened since he’d been away from January was a new stop sign getting erected by the elementary school. Chicago was alive. He had friends there. Friends he could sometimes make out with. Friends who actually wanted to be around him by choice and not by circumstance, something which he’d learned the difference pretty quickly after leaving the first time.

There wasn’t really anyone around from the old days. Nancy had moved to DC to pursue political journalism. Jonathan had found his way to Seattle, a place which by all handed down stories suited him perfectly. Even Tommy and Carol had gone. The rumor was they’d had a bit of a shotgun wedding after a pregnancy scare and skipped town to New Mexico to go stay with Tommy’s grandma.

Steve couldn’t imagine how fun that was.

He was tending the bar alone. Thursday night, so not exactly a hive of activity. His regulars had come and gone. Mr Jones was propping up the end of the bar, barely awake, not from drink just because he was old now and he just fell asleep sometimes. Things in Hawkins never changed. The entrance was pushed open, and in staggered a face Steve hadn’t seen in years, one he was certain had skipped town by now.

Billy fucking Hargrove.

The last time they’d seen each other was before Steve had left for college. They’d maybe fooled around once or twice that summer but it wasn’t anything serious. Turns out they were only beating the crap out of each other in high school because of some weird sexual tension that would spill over and become beat downs in the parking lot. Outside of the hallways, away from prying eyes, with a chance to actually use their words, they kind of got on. Even if Billy was still kind of a pushy asshole.

Billy didn’t look great though, decidedly drunk as he made his way over to the bar, dressed completely in black. Pants, shoes, belt, his old leather jacket and a plain shirt which he was making quick work of undoing a couple of the top buttons of. His hair was cut short, but not too short, and he’d gotten another piercing in the same ear as his signature hoop. But aside from that, he looked just the same. It was a real blast from the past.

“Whiskey please,” he muttered, rummaging around in his pocket for his wallet. He hadn’t noticed who was behind the bar yet.

“You know, legally, I’m not allowed to serve you if you’re already drunk,” Steve said with a smile, trying to be as kind as possible. He didn’t know what Billy was like now. He could still have that wicked hair trigger for all Steve knew. And he really didn’t want to have to deal with glass getting thrown around. It was a nightmare to clean up. Billy’s head popped up from his lap at the sound of Steve’s voice. His blue eyes were glassy. Like marbles. Just as loose too. He grinned and let on the bar. He was definitely using it for support.

“Stevie!” He slurred around his tongue. Yup, wasted. “What are you doin’ here? Nevermind, whiskey please ol’ friend. For me and everyone here! ‘Cause why the fuck not huh?” Billy slapped a dollar bill on the bar and fought with his jacket to rip it off. There was a light dusting of a boot mark on the side of his shirt, just above his hip. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“You got kicked out of Dixies’, didn’t you?”

“Mayybee,” Billy giggled, before staring right at Steve, waiting for his drink. “And the liquor store closed already so you’re my only hope ol’ friend, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal of mine!”

Steve sighed and checked the time on his watch, there was still an hour before he could close up. There was no way he was going to ply Billy with more alcohol, so he gave him a glass of water instead, which received a very annoyed look in return. “Drink that first then maybe.”

Billy muttered something dark under his breath but wasn’t so far gone he was going to start a fight. He grabbed the glass roughly and took a sip. His ring hit off the rim and echoed dull. “What you doin’ here anyway? Thought you’d escaped this shithole.”

Before Steve left they’d spoken about escaping this town. Billy was more desperate for it than Steve was. He had dreams of going back to California, staying near the coast, surfing everyday, maybe going to study mechanical engineering, something practical he could do with his hands. By the looks of it they were still just dreams. The story he’d heard from Dustin one time was, before the conversation was quickly changed, was his whole home life had gone to even more shit than it already was. Billy’s stepmom got sick so couldn’t work, his dad jumped back on the wagon with abandon so didn’t work, leaving Billy to make sure Max got through high school and all the bills were paid at the end of every month single handed.

“He’s still a dick, but he’s not that much of a dick anymore. Anyway, how’s the pizza there? Is it awesome?!”

“I come back sometimes,” Steve answered. Billy’s body rolled like a chuckle but no noise came out. “What’s with the look? You ditch the metal and go goth?”

“It was my dad’s funeral today.”

Well, if that didn’t just suck the fun out of everything.

“Shit. Shit man, I’m sorry. I was just having a joke-”

“No no it's okay,” Billy interrupted, smiling again like he hadn’t just dropped a complete bombshell into the middle of their stilted conversation. “I’m not commiseratin’. I’m celebratin’! The old cunt’s heart finally popped. Surprised they fuckin’ found one instead of a black hole…”

Billy drank his water back in one like it was hard liquor. It didn’t look like he was celebrating. Steve refilled the glass quietly.

“How is...everyone?” Steve asked. Because that’s what you did when things like this come up. Least that’s what he had done with funerals in the past. Extending empathy.

Billy shrugged. “Everyone’s fine. Happy to be rid of him.” He ran this thumb around the edge of the glass. It didn’t make a noise. “When’d you getoff?”

Steve felt himself get a little hot under the collar. A long time had passed since that summer, but the memories of it sometimes still remained. Echoes of it all would sometimes dance over his skin if someone he was hooking up with touched him certain ways, or kissed certain spots. As much as they’d hated each other in high school, it had made for some pretty fun make up sex. But no, Billy was far too gone for any of that. And Steve wasn’t about to start being that guy, hanging around his childhood home and hooking up with old flames because there was nothing better to do other than watch the corn grow. “About an hour. Why?”

Billy felt around in his pockets for what felt like an age before tossing his keys behind the bar into the corner. They landed with a metallic clatter against the floor. “I shouldn’t drive. Can you take me somewhere?”

“Bill-”

“Please?” For a moment Billy actually looked vulnerable. Steve had never seen that before. It didn’t suit him. Not in the slightest. “I’m a fuckin’ orphan now man just, please? Then I’ll leave you alone. And you can escape again. Just one place.”   

There was that too. Steve had learnt through Dustin, who’d learnt through Will, who’d gotten it off Jane, who’d gotten it from Max herself, that Billy’s mom died when he was a kid. Apparently it was rough, but he never talked about it. Just wore it around his neck like a constant weight, let it wear him down and let the sadness feed the anger. Two snakes chasing each other’s tails. And Max wasn’t around back then to have seen it. It was all second hand stories heard through her stepfather. God only knew how much of a reliable narrator he was. 

Steve really didn’t want to be a babysitter again, he’d left those days in the past even if Dustin still sent him a mother’s day card for a joke. He really didn’t want to have to babysit a drunk, emotionally unstable adult. But he couldn’t exactly leave Billy to his own devices. Not when he was like this. God only knew what he was capable of anymore.

“One place?” He reiterated, just to make sure. Billy’s glassy eyes lit up as much as they could.

“Just one. That’s all. I promise.”

“Fine,” Steve said, going for sounding annoyed by it all, but he probably just came off as normal. Taking care of other people. That’s what he did best. Even at college he was Dorm Mom, leaving out glasses of water and snacks and advil. It was something that was never going to leave him. Maybe he just had to accept that. Billy smiled, probably about as close to warm as he could manage and leant down to scoop his jacket off the floor.

“I’ll get you outside. Yous still drive that shitty beamer right?”

He was staggering away before Steve even had time to answer. His quiet night plans of just going to sleep were in tatters.

-

Billy was sitting on the ground when Steve finished and had locked up for the night, clearly not giving a damn about the dry dirt he was getting over his pants, or all up the side of Steve’s car where he was leaning, swigging from a small half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Steve couldn’t even pretend to not be annoyed. It was late, he’d been on his feet for six hours, and he wanted to go home and eat something. Not be taken on a drunken adventure.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, walking over to his car to open it up and get them both inside. He wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Billy scrambled to his feet without help but just creating a little cloud of dust.

“I had it’in my pocket the whoooole time. Don’t tell the barman. He might get mad at me.”

“Might huh?” God this was going to be a long night. It was already a long night. Steve got into the driver’s side, Billy sprawled himself into the passenger seat, somehow worse than before. He just had to keep reminding himself that Billy had a rough day. The roughest of rough days whether he would ever admit it or not. “So, where am I driving you too?”

“The church.” Billy took another swig and Steve wanted to just bat that bottle out of his hands already, but he didn’t want the car he used barely three months out of the year to stink of bourbon the next time he got in it and be reminded of all this.

“The church? There’s four churches in this town, you’re gonna have to help me out more on that one.”

Two bars. Four churches. Welcome to the midwest.

“The one with the tree...” Billy slowly spread his arms out to imitate branches, tilting his head to make the shape in his mind.

Steve wound his hand tight around the steering wheel, still trying to give the benefit of the doubt but this was already driving him crazy. “Yeah, no, still gonna have to work a little harder helping me out here man. I’m not a mind reader.”

BIlly sighed dramatic and loud, ripping a flyer from an inner jacket pocket and thrusting it under Steve’s nose for him to take. Neil Hargrove’s funeral flyer. Oh. Oh god they were going to do this? There was no way Steve wanted to sit in his car and listen to Billy cry or whatever while staring at a fresh grave. He signed on for a ride home, maybe once through the drive thru to sober the guy up, not get strapped into the emotional rollercoaster that was maybe about to start.

But they were both here. And Billy had just finished the bottle and tossed it out the door to smash to pieces in a far off part of the parking lot hidden by darkness. Steve couldn’t kick him out now. Nothing about who he was as a person would let him. He still sighed annoyed about the whole thing though, and started the engine, driving off to the edge of town where this church was. Billy was relatively quiet on the drive, staring out the window at passing street lights, warm yellow dots reflecting in his eyes. Steve wanted to make conversation, maybe ask how it had been, what he’d been up to, what his plans were now Max was getting close to graduating, but it didn’t seem right to do so. How do you really flow into a conversation about how you’ve been stuck in a place you despise for longer than you ever wanted to be, and you’re now an orphan to boot. Even though Steve never saw his parents, a fact he was more than used to since he turned thirteen, he still couldn’t imagine them dying. Just being left alone forever. They called a few times a year. They were horrible people but they were still his parents. It was something Steve didn’t want to think about too hard. 

Billy still had enough common courtesy left to roll the window down a crack before lighting up a cigarette though. So there was that at least.

The church was quiet and dark. As it should be past midnight. Steve parked up out front and followed Billy’s staggering steps as he suddenly knew exactly where he was going and went with drunken determination. At least Steve hoped that he knew where he was going. He stayed a couple paces behind, had brought a flashlight just in case Billy stumbled or anything and needed to be picked up out of the headstones before someone called the police on them trespassing. Steve didn’t need that on his record, and he dreaded to think how long Billy’s must be by now.

Even in the dark Neil Hargrove’s stone looked brand new. It was light grey granite. Didn’t have a lot of words etched into it. Just his name, the dates of his life, and the words ‘son, father, husband’. Steve flashed his light over it, watched Billy stand to attention and lean over the fresh dirt, a leg keeping him stable on either side of it, body close to the stone. He laughed darkly and spat venom at the letters.

“You fuckin’ deserve this. Fuckin’ cunt.”

For what felt like slow, painful hours there were only the sounds of Billy’s heavy laboured breaths, little metallic echoes of a belt and zipper being undone, then the ungodly splash of piss, quickly evolving into an endless stream that just kept coming and coming. Steve was frozen to the spot he picked a few feet back. He wanted to at least not illuminate the for sure crime he was witness to now, but no part of him could move. Just in shock. Steve had joked about stuff like this sure, but do actually do it? Billy laughed as it just kept coming, cackling and howling in delight to no one but himself.

Like he’d been waiting his whole life to unload like this.

Eventually the stream came to an end, he audibly tucked himself away and spat again, before either the drink or the emotion of the day finally got too much, and he collapsed flat on his back in the grass. Probably where he’d stood earlier in the daylight to check his father was really dead. That seemed like a Billy thing to do. Steve waited a few beats before stepping closer, making sure not to shine the light directly into his glassy marbles and more aim it towards his heaving chest.

“Feel better?” was all he could come up with to say. What’s even normal to say after watching someone piss on their own father’s grave, no matter how much you hate them? Billy grinned wide, his lips reaching to his ears almost, and laughed. He sounded free.

“I’ve been waitin’ to do that alllll day!”

“You don’t say,” Steve couldn’t help but smile, and bent over to help Billy up from his sprawled state. He was quite the lump to move but was soon on his feet with his arm slung over Steve’s shoulder and moving without needing pulled. Steve held onto his waist to keep him upright and in a straight line. He smelt horrific.

“Can we get pizza? Really want pizza.” Billy slurred as his head found its way onto Steve’s shoulder easily, like all the fight and hate and decades of built up resentment and anger had literally just been pissed away. 

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah man. We can get pizza.”

[jonismitchell]

FOLKLORE THIRD LISTEN NOTES

the 1

how awesome is it to have been right about this song being about the one who got away?

it sets up a very romantic theme for the album and i don’t know how to explain it

i really love this production it’s very dreamy and tailored (don’t make the pun) to my interests

the verses on this song and the imagery they evoke are perfect god

the way this feels so hard feelings esque… the bus line and yeah

can we discuss “the greatest loves of all time are over now”

i think the only opener that beats this for me is state of grace?

persist and resist the temptation…

okay the more i listen to this the more i’m convinced it’s taylor reflecting on everything that happened in this album years later and reminiscing one day (don’t make the pun)

her vocals on this are so soothing i don’t know how to explain it

cardigan  

i was really afraid i wouldn’t like this because of the title but i love it

the imagery really reminds me of poetry can we have folklore poems

i think it’s the chorus (starts with dancing in your levi’s) that i really adore

a friend to all is a friend to none taylor swift said if you are neutral in situations of injustice you have taken the side of the oppressor (no joke this is what i thought of the first time)

“heartbeat on the high line once in twenty lifetimes” might be my favourite lyric

the music video says so much about the album as a whole in terms of the pain

TO KISS IN CARS AND DOWNTOWN BARS WAS ALL WE NEEDED??? excuse me that’s literally a perfect lyric

the train comment this has such a gothic romance feel to it and i love the line peter losing wendy

when you are young they assume you know nothing maybe that’s my favourite lyric

CAUSE I KNEW EVERYTHING WHEN I WAS YOUNG no one talk to me

the front porch line has possible parallels to mad woman?

okay but if this isn’t narrated by betty i’ll eat my own foot

i feel like the hook has real potential to be cheesy / childish but she avoids it so well bless

also the production on this song? a literal dream. she picked the style of production i like best i swear to god thank you miss swift

the last great american dynasty

the beginning of this sounds a bit like 929 to me, but it’s very unique from the first two songs on the album and i like it a lot

okay but the storytelling in this first part of this song is unparalleled

she sounds like the town gossip and you know what? i love it

this is also a really dance-able song to me

blaming the woman… how victorian esque

the chorus is flawless from the lyrics to the vocals to the beat i really love that beat! is that a drum i don’t know music

taylor swift said bitch good for her

the way she says “boys” is really neat

“and losing on card game bets” vs “back when we were card sharks playing games i thought you were leading me on” literally no one is allowed to look at me

again i was dancing to this hard on the first listen because it’s amazing and i’m also seeing the lucky one / starlight vibes but it’s better than both those songs? how does she do it

AND THEN IT WAS BOUGHT BY ME??? i lost my mind?? also this reinforces my water as authenticity theory because she references midnight sea whatever i’ll expand later

i had a marvelous time ruining everything,,, maybe she’s the narrator maybe she’s betty like elizabeth taylor burton to this taylor,,,

her voice in this song is seriously amazing

exile ft. bon iver

this feels like a natural sequel to the last time but it has huge getaway car vibes thematically

okay a lot of people have said this is a haylor song but i see it as taylor’s evelyn hugo fanfiction and you can’t change my mind on that

she put a whole man on this song and it’s still super gay

also i don’t mind bon iver’s voice as much as gary lightbody but still gah (also i had no idea who he was before this album that’s on being born in 2005

)i think i’ve seen this film before but i didn’t like the ending… don’t know why this line hits so hard but it literally does no one touch me

the ooh vocalizations are really cool i am again obsessed with the production

god i just love the lyrics on this so much can you guys believe how amazing

i just want to discuss how this entire thing is evelyn hugo fanfictionso i’m leaving out the side door is thematically important to the album i don’t know how to explain this right now but i’m sure i’m right about this

walked a very thin line vs literally all of mirrorball

i gave so many signs no one touch me! we only know the version of someone they have chosen to show us! there will be no more explanation there will just be reputation

the homeland defending line is amazing i can’t get myself together apparently“i’ve seen this film before so i’m leaving out the side door” maybe the best lyric

the outro for this song is literally flawless i just want to ask taylor what was going through her mind when she made this album please

this song is so sad i don’t even want to discuss it i just want to cry

my tears ricochet

love her getting some sat vocab in spelling really is fun

the intro for this song is so pretty i love

if i’m on fire you’ll be made of ashes too vs the room is on fire invisible smoke

when i said taylor was painting herself as one of the heroes that die all alone i wasn’t kidding!

the way she says loved on this song is really appealing to me

this being the track five makes me super emotional i love this song

i didn’t have it in myself to go with grace,,, you’re the hero flying around saving face,,, if i’m dead to you why are you at the wake,,,, god these lyrics just cut super hard okay! 

i feel super personally called out by this goddamn song…

some to throw… some to make a diamond ring after the marriage fanfare

what a ghostly scene / i pace like a ghost

the concept of angrily haunting your past lover because they screwed you over is so amazing

used to tell me i was brave because i fought you

i think this is our first properly angry track five since like dear john and i want to put my head on the desk and start sobbing but i won’t

the halloween vibes of this are sending me this is so perfect

“i’m screaming at the sky” “stolen lullaby” amazing lyrics and also her vocals i don’t want to talk about how emotionally attached i am to this album because i am

so the battleships will sink beneath the waves again i think this song is really personal

the way she sings and the lyrics have a really specific effect i will be crying over

this song is so good. it’s so good. track five supremacy.can we discuss how perfect the production is on the album i think we should

mirrorball

yet more perfect production? she’s really feeding me with this one

after ithk and lwymmd i was not expecting to be so obsessed with track 6 but what a pleasant surprise. like i initially liked ithk too but not like this (don’t make the pun)

again i am so upset by the lyrics

the hush…. i think she invented singing

god the chorus is so specific and so very taylor that i could cry like!! yes!! this is what it’s all about no one touch me seriously i mean it this time

masquerade revelers means something and it’s a beautiful visual too man she really stepped up her songwriting with this album

this whole song feels like something directly out of a dream

THE BRIDGE? BRIDGE CITY? I AM THE RODEO CLOWNS? THE TIGHTROPE? I’M STILL A BELIEVER BUT I DON’T KNOW WHY? THE VOCALS? THE LAYERED SINGING? DON’T TALK TO ME

i’ll show you every version of yourself tonight means something and i will cry

seven

this means the most to me really i just… this is for the kids who were victims of something bigger than them and i don’t want to cry but i think i just might for personal reasons

i again really love the production thanks for my rights miss swift

the half speaking really works for me this time (and this song is closeted teenager rights)

passed down like folk songs,,, i have emotions and i finally learned how to pronounce folk

and i’ve been meaning to tell you / i think your house is haunted / your dad is always mad and that must be why these lyrics are flawless and stunning and god. yeah. this song y’all

will you run away with me? yes. you won’t have to cry or hide in the closet what did i say!! closeted teenager anthem i’m tatttooing this on my forehead

i used to scream ferociously and that whole lyric might be my favourite part

again her vocals are an absolute dream i love the higher register

i still got love for you,,, this is really about childhood love and the way it fades but leaves an indelible mark goodbye i am done i can’t deal with this

i would listen to karaoke of this on its own because the background music is so perfect

taylor swift saw me listening to the japanese house and girl in red and said “hey i can do that” and you know what? she could!

august

okay so before we start this listen i want to say this song made me hyperventilate and almost cry at one in the morning which was great like. i wanted a song that made me feel as much as say it by maggie rogers and taylor swift said “okay bet”

that being said i really do love this intro i feel it’s very beautiful and it reminds me of white teeth teens a bit i can’t explain why

this is the lowkey version of cruel summer and it is equally gay

never have i ever before,,, taylor said i will romanticize being a teenager in love and it will be the most beautiful album you have ever heard in your life

i can see us lost in the memory just the way she sings the chorus is so beautiful

honestly this makes me feel like i’m sitting in a field which i think is the vibe taylor wanted to accomplish with lover but hey

her cruel summers and augusts were the equivalent of my january huh

this is the sad ending for cruel summer this is when she looked up and said “yeah you being in love with me is the worst thing i’ve ever heard” no one talk to me ever again

“back when we were still changing for the better / wanting was enough” is an absolutely perfect lyric i don’t want anyone to speak to me for the next year

“to live for the hope of it all / cancelled plans just in case you called / and say meet me behind the mall / so much for summer love” that was amazing that was perfect thank you

“you were mine to lose”

i love this chorus so much it’s unreal it’s just wow

august sipped away like a bottle of wine CAUSE YOU WERE NEVER MINE

i don’t even know what lyric to type up because they’re all so good and they evoke such a specific feeling i feel like i was punched in the gut

have i mentioned how much i love this production yet? i love this production

isn’t this outro just the most stunning thing you’ve ever heard wow

this is me trying

such a change of pace in terms of production and yet i am completely enamoured by it

the intro is so beautiful and the way she just transitions into a song so viscerally about her insecurities i... i refuse to do this damnit

this is apologizing for cheating but it was on her this time (no i don’t think taylor actually cheated on anyone it’s called storytelling and i feel this is one of the songs farther from her than the others)

for some reason the background music reminds me of pure heroine?

lyrically and thematically it sounds like the archer and wow can’t tell you how much i adore that

favourite lyric: i got wasted like all my potential

the curve became a sphere,,,, this is just such a good and honest and raw song how does she do it i’m asking how does she do it

i really love the melody of this thing i don’t know what to tell you

it’s so upset and emotional but resigned in a sense? i can’t really properly describe this

again this is bridge city! i don’t know if i’ve said this before but the bridge for this song is truly impeccable her ability to do this astounds me like the songwriting alone y’all

i really do love the background beat

illicit affairs

the visuals and the imagery and the storyline of this song are so perfect and damn i can just see the music video (i maintain this is by the same narrator as august)

you’ll be flushed when you return do you see what i mean by perfect visuals?

the way her voice pitches up and the high notes

who allowed the chorus to be this amazing i’ve listened to it like ten times now and my eye still twitches (should i get that checked out?)

i would like to repeat that this is an extremely gay song thank you taylor

a dwindling mercurial high is such a good line ugh i love the imagery again

clandestine meetings and stolen stares,, our secret moments in a crowded room,,,

maybe the perfume thing could build off the water theme?

the bridge of this thing goddamn wow i can’t believe

YOU SHOWED ME COLOURS YOU KNOW I CAN’T SEE WITH ANYONE ELSE

she’s on a cliff screaming in anger because the affair destroyed her!! august + illicit affairs are the same narrator and this is me trying is the person she was with,,, actually i think this is me trying might be about the other person apologizing to the narrator of august + illicit affairs,,,,

you taught me a secret language you know i can’t speak with anyone else vs. do all lovers feel like they’re inventing something do you ever just sit on the floor and cry

for you i would ruin myself a million times,,, evelyn hugo quote about screaming i’m in love with celia st james,,, death by a thousand cuts,,,, yes it’s fine everything is fine

invisible string

ahhh the pizzicato! that’s beautiful that’s really on point she really said strings kids rights huh

i really do like this production and the way it contributes to this idyllic image of her childhood whew i love this song a lot

ugh the melody of the pre chorus is so lovely we have to stan

all along there was an invisible string,,, tying you to me,,, okay now i am mildly intrigued by how much of this was autobiographical goddamnit there will be no more explanation

bad was the blood… that’s so cute! she said i looked like an american singer! no one touch me

wow her vocals on this song are so lovely and the lyrics! aren’t the lyrics just flat out amazing we have to stan taylor swift i think

string that pulled me and there are musicians pulling strings in the background okay i see you

that dive bar,,, dive bar on the east side,,, we love a consistent muse (also met you in a bar)

oh yes i do really like this bridge too it’s so romantic and wonderful perfect

an axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart? i think she should be allowed to do that as a treat

the hell / heaven reference thanks for another religious metaphor to add to my collection

her vocals on this song are so unique and i also like them a lot my eye is twitching again

maybe i got my track eleven rights back didn’t it! i really hope this is track 11 otherwise i’m going to look like a clown (no i don’t want to google it)

the outro is so soothing and beautiful i think i hear a violin

mad woman

the piano! hearing real instruments on taylor songs again! we are so blessed

i think this is narrated by the same woman from the last great american dynasty honestly

maybe also by the august / illicit affairs narrator trying to get revenge my mind okay

every time you call me crazy i get more crazy ugh i love this! women straight up going unhinged i see you with your gone girl fanfiction miss swift

the way this song feels like a whispered confession and her vocals and the eerie nature of the background music we have absolutely no choice but to stan

now i breathe flames every time i talk is a really amazing visual

this feels like a better done version of i did something bad i said what i said

it’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together - i love that line! i love unhinged taylor swift! blank space and idsb mashed together with a new feel i can’t put my finger on but i am quite literally obsessed with it

every time you call me crazy i get more crazy yeah that’s a line

there really isn’t anything like a mad woman (also this is intentionally linked to the last great american dynasty and i won’t shut up about this now)

the bridge is so intimidating and delightful! hell hath no fury like a scorned woman wow the visuals i see in my head are amazing

good wives always know taylor this is a better criticism of the patriarchy than the man is i just want you to know that from me personally

the outro is amazing there’s definitely some sort of snare drum here (i don’t know instruments again)

epiphany

it did not click that this song was about the pandemic the first time i listened to it

but honestly i am so obsessed with this intro it reminds me of the archer a little bit

i think this is paralleling war with the pandemic

ease your rifle and the accompanying vocal is so well song

okay the beaches reference is helping my water and authenticity thing

some things you just can’t speak about yeah i will lose my mind for personal reasons

this song is really comforting for some weird reason

something med school did not cover feels like an actual punch to the gut. someone’s daughter, someone’s mother… okay. okay i didn’t get this the first time but i am upset now.

and some things you just can’t speak about is a line and a half i think

it’s really just so beautiful and it’s hurting me

what’s the significance of twenty? she keeps referencing it and in lover too

but wow the bridge is otherworldly i love it so much… her mind amazes me

watch you breathe in… watch you breathe in…. please it’s so beautiful i can’t

actually this song might be one of my favourites it’s so good (of course i’ve thought that about all the songs so take this comment with a grain of salt please)

the outro is also super heavenly do i hear strings again?

betty

so we’re all in agreement this is gay

the beginning sounds so country and that’s her beginning and this is about a high school love

you can’t believe a word she says (most times) is so fun and cute i can’t believe i got rights handed to me on a silver platter with this one

the storyline she implies in the chorus it’s literally so beautiful i just have a lot of feelings! i snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate!

this feels like a quintessential taylor swift song with the characterizations and the lyrics and how it feels ripped out of a diary entry (yes i know it isn’t but that’s how it feels )

do i hear a fiddler? emily poe is that you? not the point i know

BUT IF I JUST SHOWED UP AT YOUR PARTY man the chorus really does snap

taylor swift said fuck 2020 god bless america we’re officially moving into a good timeline

on broken cobblestones is all of my rights encapsulated into one don’t touch me

this is just gay james is a lesbian i don’t make the rules i just enforce them please

betty i’m here on your doorstep LIKE IN THIS IS ME TRYING BETTY IS THE AUGUST  / ILLICIT AFFAIRS / MAD WOMAN / CARDIGAN / THE LAST GREAT AMERICAN DYNASTY NARRATOR

the narrator of betty is the same as this is me trying no one talk anymore

WILL YOU HAVE WILL YOU LOVE ME WILL YOU KISS ME ON THE PORCH IN FRONT OF ALL YOUR STUPID FRIENDS THE MOMENT OF EMOTIONAL CATHARSIS I EXPERIENCED

i’m only seventeen i don’t know anything and the way it explicitly connects to cardigan

car again / cardigan is some nice wordplay

this is an objectively perfect song

peace

the opening music for this track is really lovely, it feels like a good return to lowkey after how Much betty was honestly

our coming of age has come and gone is one of the best opening lines i’ve ever heard

i’ve never had courage in my convictions won’t you look at what a great lyric that is

no i can never give you peace,,, man i really do like this hook

the production on this song is amazing

i’m a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm! the ocean wave line helps my authenticity theory! they say love’s for show but i would die for you in secret! is this a song or a series of excerpts from my poetry the world may never know (i’m kidding i could never write anything this good)

would it be enough if i could never give you peace no one look at me i can’t be perceived any more than this

it’s like i’m wasting your honour wow what a line that is especially after exile but then the narratives don’t exactly match up hold i’m thinking

swing with you for the fences (i know places) sit with you in the trenches (epiphany) i feel like there’s something to referencing those songs directly after each other

oh.. the child line…. oh?

i’m a clown to the north does that count

man this song is so good and it gives me serious call it what you want vibes for some reason

but i would die for you in secret i feel like this bears repeating cause i’ll scream

would it be enough,,,, am i too much,,,, i would like to lie down

the outro to this is so pretty and haunting and thematically it kind of reminds me of dwoht / afterglow but that’s just me

hoax

i wrote hoax lyrics pre album but hers are much better

my smoking gun,,, knife to a gunfight,,, the way,,, man

okay a depressing song to close out a taylor album is new and im going to lose my mind

i really love the piano in the background like that’s beautiful

the confessions screaming on the cliff vibe i was right

YOUR FAITHLESS LOVE’S THE ONLY HOAX I BELIEVE IN

no other sadness in the world would do well that is a depressing ending to seeing daylight

my best laid plans / my sleight of hand / my barren land she’s literally such an amazing songwriter why is anyone allowed to have this level of talent and not pay appropriate taxes

THE ASH FROM YOUR FIRE IS THIS THE PARALLEL TO MY TEARS RICOCHET? i think i cracked something here wow

YOU KNOW I LEFT A PART OF ME BACK IN NEW YORK PLEASE EXPLAIN

the hero died so what’s the movie for i’m fine this is all very fine can you hear me screaming

you knew you won so what’s the point of keeping score i really think this is the other half of my tears ricochet you guys

her voice and the production combined here is so haunting

my only one my kingdom come undone can we just have a mental breakdown super quickly and collectively so i know i’m not really losing my mind

i really love this song a lot wow

the piano harmonies / melodies are so pretty (i don’t know which one it is sue me)

it’s perfect wow

[efinnx]

EDEN FINNIGAN SEASON 2 -;-

[ DANIELLE CAMPBELL, FEMALE , SHE/HER ] do you hear [ VEGAS GIRL BY CONNOR MAYNARD] coming from the beach ? oh, that has to be [ EDEN FINNIGAN  ]. they are a [ TWENTY ] year old [ BEACH ATTENDANT ] from the outer banks, and they’ve been living there for [TWENTY YEARS ]. they were chosen to be on the show because they are a [ POGUE ], but really , i heard it’s because they can be [ INSATIABLE & NAIVE ]. if you get to know them though , they’re pretty [ SPIRITED & CURIOUS ] . they might become a quick audience favorite due to their [STARFISH EARRINGS, FLANNELS TIEAD AROUND SHORT DENIM SKIRTS & CRIMSON STAINED POUT]

hiii ! Ally here again. This time with the rebellious, little nerd that is Eden Finnigan affectionately known as Little Finn. Updated bio under the cute. 

BASICS-;-

Full name;  Eden Diana Finnigan 

Age; 20

Birthday; January 31st 

Height; 5’3

Siblings; Noah & Wiley (step brother) 

Occupation; beach attendant, aspiring marine biologist 

Location; the cut

Sign; aquarius 

(+) ; spirited & curious

(-) ; insatiable & naive

Sexuality; bisexual, but doesn’t realize or recogzine it yet 

Pogue or Kook; pogue

Character Inspiration; octavia blake (the 100), seth cohen (the oc), lany boogs (she’s all that), anne marie (blue crush), moana of motunui (moana)

EARLY YEARS-;-

Eden was certainly born in the outer banks, and lived there all her life. Raised, however, that’s an entirely different story, a term used very loosely in the small Finnigan bungalow nestled in the cut. Her father ditched before Eden was born and she only remembers fleeting moments with her mother. It was her brother, Noah, who practically raised her; the only person she could ever really count on. 

Her childhood may have been difficult and certainly unconventional to say the least, but it wasn’t a total bust. Eden found ways to adapt and entertain herself, falling in love with the beach, the sand between her toes and the salty air in her tangles. She loved to splash around in the tidepools collecting shells and learning about all the small organisms she could get her little fingers on. It was the only thing that kept her busy while her parents were nowhere to be found and big brother was off teaching tourists how to surf. 

SCHOOL/TEENAGE YEARS-;- 

Academics came easily to Eden. She was a naturally curious student and read anything and everything she could get her hands on. Much to her surprise, she made friends easily, her curious and oftentimes blunt demeanor somehow managing to charm her classmates. It also helped that Noah was her big brother. She took it in stride and wore her association as Noah’s little sister as a badge of honor, even earning the nickname “Lil’ Finn.”

As Eden entered her teen years, she began to realize that her natural abilities came with tremendous pressure, everyone always seeming to remind her of her potential and that if she played her cards right she could get out of this town and achieve great things. The pressure surmounted, and Eden couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what she was bound to be stuck in the OBX forever destined to repeat her mother’s mistakes.

It was only a matter of time before the youngest Finnigan began her rebellious phase out to prove that she was no longer a little girl. New attitude, new style, new curfew, new string of lovers, oftentimes disappearing to stretches of time (like mother, like daughter). But somewhere beneath her bold lipstick and short denim skirts lies the curious little girl who wore starfish for earrings and splashed around in tidepools. She is a hopeless romantic at heart who wants the fairytale and craves to quench her growing hunger for knowledge. 

COLLEGE-;-

After graduation, Eden took a year off to find herself and save up some money before getting her act together and applying to college. She managed to get into the local community college while balancing her job as a beach attendant with the hopes of someday becoming a marine biologist. After a year of study, she has decided to put her education on hold again, unable to keep up with the cost of school even with the help of financial aid. She hasn’t mentioned this decision to anyone yet, especially not to Noah.

When the opportunity to make a few appearances on a reality TV show presented itself, Eden couldn’t pass it up. If she made a little extra cash, she may be able to continue her education and realize her dreams of becoming a marine biologist. Besides, anything was better than checking badges and managing rentals for kooks and tourists at the beach all summer long. 

SEASON 1-;-

Eden only had a short stint on the show for season 1. She was brought on to make a few cameo appearances at the end of the summer in hopes of stirring up drama for her brothers Finn and Wiley. The season ended rather amicably for Eden, gaining her a handful of new friends in addition to a very small level of celebrity in the Outer Bank now often referred to as “Finn from that show’s sister.”

POST SEASON 1-;-

People began to recognize her more and her social media following also began to increase. She used this growing platform to promote her love for the ocean, often posting about her aquatic discoveries and how to keep the ocean waters clean.  

Despite the perks that came along with being on the show, Eden remained in the Outer Banks once it ended. While everyone was off traveling the world and enjoying their new lives outside the show, she continued to work at the beach and picked up odd jobs here and there. Since Eden only made guest appearances, she didn’t receive as large of a payday as she had hopped. And besides, who else was going to make sure that Finn had his Coco Berries? She kept in touch with a few of her friends from the show and constantly texted her “big sisters” Kaia and Naomi about their travels.

Eden was asked back for season 2 and this time as a season regular. She agreed again not only for the money, her ambitions to get herself back in college still very much alive and well, but also to spend more time with her new fling, Connor. The relationship is still very new and super casual (filled with Finding Nemo banter), but enough to help bring her back to the show. She’s looking forward to spending an entire season on the show and all the shenanigans that come along with it. 

POGUES VS KOOKS-;-

Eden doesn’t get directly involved in the pogues vs kooks drama, but she can’t help but feel jealous of the kooks and their wealth. It bothers her that even the slackers get accepted into the fanciest colleges while she has to struggle just to make ends meet. That’s not to say Eden will simply turn the other cheek and she’s not afraid to stand up for herself in front of the kooks. Push her too far, and that famous Finnigan temper is bound to explode.

WANTED CONNECTIONS-;-

the bestie-;- (pogue) Eden and this person go way back and they’ve practically known each other for as long as they can remember. Sure, they bicker and tease each other but no matter what they are practically family and they will always have each other's backs. [OPEN]

the ex-;- (pogue or kook) Eden and this person had a thing back in high school, but once they graduated they broke things off leaving Eden heartbroken and filled with resentment though she plays it off as if it doesn’t bother her. [OPEN]

the on again/off again-;- (pogue or kook) Eden and this person never made things official though whenever they are together they manage to find some time to sneak off and fool around. Eden has a new boyfriend this season therefore this could complicate things a bit.  [OPEN]

the crush-;- (kook) Eden is a hopeless romantic at heart. She’ll never admit it but she’s the girl who doodles your name in hearts all over her notebook. Eden thinks this person is the ultimate eye candy and gets all shy and bashful whenever they are around. Whatever happens after that is totally open!  [OPEN]

**I'm also totally open to changing the pogue or kook specifications. Just let me know! And if you have any ideas lay ‘em on me! 

[kayteewritessteve]

If Only You Knew - 1/19

Description: You arrive home one day to find a wedding invite for two of your best friends from high school. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but even with that said, you weren’t prepared to return home. At least not after 7 years of avoiding Buckhannon, West Virginia. Or rather, avoiding him; your ex-best friend and the secret love of your life. But maybe it was finally time to face your past, to face him, and everything else that happened on that horrible night. Who would have knew that your prom would end up being a total disaster, and the very last night you’d spend in Buckhannon for the next 7 years? you certainly didn’t. That’s for sure.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 6,790 ish. This one is a giant, you’ll get that reference soon! ;)

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Flashbacks to moments of abuse and near rape. Possible triggering thoughts, feelings and emotions. Moments of bullying and harsh name calling. Lots of curse words. And a very sloooow burn.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Posting this chapter now, instead of the 14th because I’m weak and impatient! Hahaha.

FYI. I few things to know before you start. This chapter will be the hardest one to get through, IMO. And I have used both the Marvel movie characters and a few from the comics, but I decided to keep the antagonist and friends as OC’s. This story will flip back and forth from readers POV and Steves, each chapter. Oh, and also, this is a total AU, so I have created familys and backgrounds for all the Marvel characters. So just go along with those! Haha. But anywho, I hope you enjoy the ride!

January 2018.

As you began to trudge up the stairs to your third floor Boston apartment, you cram your mail into your over the shoulder bag for safe keeping. The same mail you had just retrieved from your mailbox, located right inside the front doors of your apartment building.

The building itself wasn’t anything special, it had a basic cream stucco exterior, with outdated features. There was minimal decor in the lobby aside from a couple fake floor plants and an ungodly large gold framed mirror, that sat hanging on the ugly ivory coloured walls. The elevator in the lobby was the same metal gold colour as the mirrors frame which also matched the mailboxes, and the frame around the front door. They all looked like they had never been updated in the 30 years since the apartment was built.

Speaking of outdated, the elevator had clearly also never been replaced, the thing was older than you. You’d vowed to never use the damn thing ever again after it had gotten stuck, within a week of you moving in. And yes, it had broken down with you trapped, alone, inside it. Long story short, a few handsome men from the local fire department had to come rescue your ass, but that was after almost 3 hours of you sitting on the floor, of the malfunctioning death trap. 3 hours you spent alone in a damn elevator before anyone even realized you were there. No, you and the elevator were not friends. Stairs were much smarter, much less likely to kill you in a freak accident, and helped keep your butt lookin’ good. Or at least that’s what you told yourself every time you’d find yourself standing at the bottom of them.

You reached your suite’s door, which was located on the left, at the very end of a long hall. You had lucked out and gotten a west facing corner unit, which gave you more windows and glorious sunshine in the afternoon. Though, being that it was mid January, the sunny days were few and far between. You grabbed your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door, as you walked in you pulled your bags strap over your head and set it on the kitchen counter. Your foot gently tapped the door closed, then you toed off your shoes and headed for your bedroom. The apartment wasn’t anything fancy either, the walls were all basic white and the fixtures were older, but you made it your home nonetheless.

You changed into some comfy clothes then headed into the kitchen to grab your bag off the counter, having a few tests to finish grading before you could fully relax for the night. Being a middle school teacher was both challenging and rewarding, but you loved every second of it. You had only been a full time teacher for about 6 months now, but you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Your students had become such a huge part of your life, feeling almost like having a bunch of nieces and nephews around all day. They were a handful somedays, but you adored them all, and saw the true potential in every one of them.

You plopped down on the couch and opened your bag, pulling out the folder with the tests you needed to grade. As you did the mail you had picked up on your way in, fell out of your bag and onto the floor. You reached down to pick them up then started to sift through them, mostly all bills, as per usual. However, then your eyes landed on a beautiful embossed ivory envelope in the stack. You put the other mail down and turned it over in your hands. It had a ruby red ribbon tied around it, near the end width wise. The envelope was sealed with the initials ‘N&B’ pressed into red wax on the back. You slipped the ribbon off and broke the wax seal, pulling out a gorgeous ivory card with black and red cursive writing. It was clearly a wedding invitation. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t expected this invite to show up one day, they had both basically been made for each other. You’d never known two people who worked better together than they did. Or at least, two people in an actual relationship who worked that well together.

“So Nat and Bucky are finally making it official,” you said out loud to yourself as there was no one else in your apartment, “took them fucking long enough.” You laughed. But then abruptly stopped when the realization hit you. The only way you could attend this wedding was to return home, to Buckhannon.

Your eyes sought out the wedding date, partially hoping it would be an inconvenient time and you could use it as an excuse. But another part of you also hoped you could maybe attend, that this could maybe be your excuse. You counted quickly in your head, it was 6 months from now, so mid July, and by that time it would be damn near 7 years since you’d left. 7 years since you had last stepped foot in that small town. And 7 years since that awful night that drove you away from the town ….and him…

July 2011 - 6 ½ years ago.

You arrived at the outdoor prom after party, on the arm of your date, Brock. He had asked you almost two weeks ago to prom but you had stalled for a week, that is until you heard the news, and finally agreed to go with him. Knowing full well it was your only option now. Well, aside from going alone that is.

As the night continued on, Brock insisted on constantly supplying you with booze, all night. It became like his damn life’s mission to make sure your drink was always full and to your lips. You weren’t a big drinker, so you knew you��d be fall down drunk in no time, at the rate things were going. So whenever he’d turn his back to you, to talk to someone or whatever, you’d dump most of your drink out. Followed by quickly bringing it to your lips to act like you had actually chugged it. Always receiving an amused smirk from Brock, each time he thought you’d polished off half your drink in one go.

Your eyes would often drift over to the other side of the party, off near the tree line, where your so called best friend stood with his date. And each time they did, you’d take an actual chug of your drink then avert your eyes, before anyone noticed you staring. How he could come here with her pissed you off. He knew how she treated you. The hell she put you through. Yet, here he was, with her. Fucking Madeleine. Or ‘Madi’ as only her inner circle called her.

She had single handedly made it her high school mission to make your life a miserable hell. And she had been pretty damn successful at it. You didn’t think you’d have made it through high school if it wasn’t for Wanda, Nat, Hilde, Clint, Sam, Bucky and Steve. Though, if you were being honest, Steve was the true reason you had made it through.

From basically the moment you both had met, he had always been there for you. He’d quickly became your best friend—that is until recently. Your eyes wandered back over to him and Madeleine again, standing near the tree line, talking to Madi’s friends. You couldn’t even begin to describe in words how much you loathed Madeleine. You hadn’t even realized you were glaring at her till something beside her shifted and caught your eye. You flicked them over and they locked instantly on to his. Steves. He was watching you. For how long? Who fucking knows. But he had seen you looking, that much you knew. Shit!

You quickly turned your head to face Brock again, taking a generous gulp of your drink as you did. Brock smirked at that and you gave him a tight lipped smile in return. You had just been caught aggressively shooting daggers at your best— was he even still that? Let’s go with just ‘friend’ for now— at your ‘friends’ prom date. Or as you liked to call her, the She-Witch aka your archenemy. Fucking Madeleine Karlington—

“How you doing?” Brock’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you instantly felt kinda bad for basically ignoring him all night, while you jealously seethed over Steve bringing Madeleine to prom.

“Good,” you said and faked a happy smile.

“I mean, how are you feeling?” He asked as he gestured to the drink in your hand.

“Oh,” you clued in to what he meant, then nodded, “Drunk.” You lied as you realized he currently thought you had actually been drinking all the beverages. You know, the ones he had been supplying you throughout the whole night. Or rather, the whole after party.

“Good,” he nodded, “do you need another?”

You shook your head and lifted up your red solo cup to show him it was still like half full. Then your eyes wandered again, except this time they widened slightly once they reached their targets. Madeleine was now facing Steve, and just as you locked onto their figures, she basically pounced and started aggressively making out with him. You saw him tense up upon impact, you assumed it was just from the shock of her abrupt assault. Your eyes narrowed as you watched, telling yourself to look away but you just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t peal your eyes from them, it was like a car crash and you were watching as it happened. Your morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

After a few seconds Steve pulled away from the kiss, and removed Madi’s arms from around his neck. His eyes then snapped over to you and it instantly broke the weird trance you had been in. You clenched your jaw then turned back to Brock.

If Steve was going to be here and be all over his date, then why shouldn’t you do the same? This was your prom night after all, you had a date just like he did, why shouldn’t you also take advantage of that. And you really shouldn’t be this fucking affected by him kissing someone else, but you were. This 2 year long crush was getting really fucking old. Really fucking fast.

Still feeling Steve’s eyes drilling into you, you decided to give him the show now. It was petty and childish, and you knew that. But in all honesty, you also knew it would never have had the same effect on him, not like him kissing her had had on you. But you hoped it might at least piss him off, even if it was only in a brotherly type of way. That’s basically what your friendship was, you were the lovesick girl, pinning over the boy she could never have. Dreaming about him and the love story that you’d never share. All while he was the boy that saw you like a little fucking sister, and that was it. So you kept your feelings to yourself, buried them down deep, and pretended like they didn’t exist. That is till something would trigger them and force them to bubble to the surface. Much like right fucking now.

You grabbed Brock by the back of the neck and pulled him into a spur of the moment kiss, pulling back a few seconds later as your fingers flew up to touch your lips. In your jealous rage, you had just given away your very first kiss to Brock. Completely forgetting that’s exactly what it would be, your first kiss. It was nothing like you had imagined, and it wasn’t very good at all. Nor was it with the person you’d dreamed it would have been with. Damnit. Way to fucking go.

“What was that for?” Brock asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing,” You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it off as less then it actually was to you. “Just felt like it.”

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asked.

You quickly glanced over at Steve, who was now glaring at you, he looked fucking pissed. He also knew that had been your first kiss. But let’s be honest, he knew everything about you. More so than any other person. Well, maybe besides your dad. His fists were balled up tight at his sides and before you could analyze any further, Steve abruptly started to stomp towards you. Your plan had both worked and backfired, all at the same time. And if he reached you, it was not going to be pretty, nor would it be a fun little ‘chat’. No, you had fucked up and he was very much going to tell you exactly how much. Like always. Shit!

You frantically turned and grabbed Brock’s hand, “Yes!” You said a little to loudly. Who are you kidding, you damn near screamed it. “Let’s go for a walk!” Then you started to drag him towards the woods, in an attempt to get as far away from Steve, and the ‘brotherly’ talk he was about to dump on you. That was his way, if you ever stepped out of line in his eyes, he’d fucking tell you. In thee most annoying and dad like way he could. Yes, he acted more like an older brother but when he’d lecture you it was more like a dad. It frustrated the hell out of you, as you already had one awkward, and overbearing father. You didn’t need another. Especially not fucking Steve, not the secret love of your life. No fucking thank you.

You dragged Brock some ways into the woods then stopped abruptly. Feeling like you had gone far enough, you spun around to face him now. He had that stupid amused smirk on his face, again—Okay, that was a little harsh, it wasn’t ‘stupid’, you were just clearly cranky from everything that had just happened.

“So what do we do now?” He asked.

“Ah,” Your brows knitted together, you hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “We could ah, get to know each other a little better? I barely know anything about you.” You paused as you thought it over a bit more then smiled, “Oh! I know! We could play 21 questions!”

He shook his head, “I think we can figure out a better way to ‘get to know each other’.” He smirked and you furrowed your brows in confusion, not really sure what he was implying.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked.

He started to step towards you and in turn you stepped back, trying to keep a bit of distance between you both. But then you backed right up into a tree, with him now only inches away from you. “I’ll show you.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” you waved a hand dismissively, “I don’t think you need to do that—“ But he cut you off as he damn near jumped at you, his lips crashed into yours and his hands started to roam your body, as his hips pinned you to the tree. You had been caught off guard originally but then you landed your palms on his chest and forcefully pushed him. He barely moved though, as he was much bigger than you. But you managed to move him just enough, to gain the space to turn your head away from him. “Please get off of me.” You requested firmly. However, he ignored you and didn’t move away, he just continued his advances on you.

“Brock! Get your hands off me!” You commanded, your voice was rising now. Panic was starting to sink in, he was so much stronger than you, and if you couldn’t get him to stop soon, he may not stop at all.

He finally tilted his head back to look at you, “Oh, so you can put out for every other guy in school, but you won’t put out for the one that takes you to prom?”

You were momentarily taken aback by his comment. What the fuck— “What are you even talking about?!”

“I heard all the stories Y/N, I know what type of girl you actually are. So no need to play coy.” Before you could answer he was back on you, crushing his lips into yours and pulling at your dress. You realized asking him clearly wasn’t working, so you attempted to push him away again. This time as hard as you could, which again was futile. So you started to scream and thrash against him and his advances.

Your screaming instantly caught in your throat when you felt him shift and he forcefully grabbed your upper arm, yanking you away from the tree and throwing you to the ground. And fucking hard at that. Then he stepped over you, “Shut up, would ya? Someone is going to hear you!” He seethed.

“Good!” You defiantly yelled and started to scream again. He raised his hand up and backhanded you across the face, the shock of the hit abruptly shutting you up, as your hand flew up to cover your cheek. The tears started to well in your eyes from the sting of the hit.

Then he started to pull at your dress again and your blood ran cold as you realized where this was all going. “B-brock, please, please don’t do this. Please stop,” you begged, “I don’t know what you heard but I haven’t ever slept with anyone before.” And that was the truth. You hadn’t even so much as dated a guy, let alone slept with one. Hell, tonight had been your first kiss for crying out loud. All through high school no one had ever even so much as paid attention to you, at least not romantically, let alone slept with you. Brock was the first guy to ever even ask you out, granted it was to prom, so not an official date, but still—Shit, not the fucking point right now! No, right now you were wholeheartedly regretting ever accepting his offer. He was clearly not the boy you had thought he was.

“That’s not what I heard—“ he started to say but was cut off when a giant form came out of fucking nowhere and grabbed Brock by the back of his shirt, yanking him away from you and flinging him in the opposite direction.

“She said no!” The giant form yelled and you instantly recognized the voice. It was Steve. He was here now. Thank god.

Brock quickly pulled himself up to his feet, “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck’s your problem, Steve?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding? I warned you, Brock. Not once but fucking twice!” Steve growled out. “And my problem is, is that she told you to fucking stop, more than once, yet you continued anyways, you piece of shit!” He spat out.

“Will you just fuck off already, Steve! Your just jealous that I stole your whore for the night!” He spit back.

Steve punched him in the face, and fucking hard at that. “Don’t you fucking call her that!”

Brock stumbled back a few feet from the hit, regaining his balance quickly as his hand wiped the blood from his mouth, “I just call them as I see them. And that’s what she is!” He stepped up into Steve’s face, clearly unaware of Steves track record in fights, he never lost. And he had damn near a foot on Brock. “I heard all the stories about the guys she has slept with, Steve. So obviously your threats didn’t fucking work. And I forked out all this money to bring her ass to prom, the least she could do is fucking put out!” And Brock saying that was clearly the last straw for Steve, as he lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. As they both hit the ground Steve quickly straddled Brock’s waist and started punching him with both fists, alternating.

After a few seconds you realized he wasn’t going to stop, you had only ever seen him this mad once before and he damn near killed the kid. Luckily for the boy, Bucky and Sam had been there to pull Steve off before he could do any fatal damage. “Fuck!” You yelled as you jumped up and scrambled over to them. As much as you felt Brock deserved this beatdown, it wasn’t going to end just a beatdown. No, Steve wouldn’t stop, and you couldn’t let him kill someone. Especially not for of you, or, because of you. “Steve!” You screamed as you tried to pull him off Brock, “Stop!”

You grabbed one of his massive arms, but he abruptly slammed his elbow back into your stomach, clearly trying to break the hold of whoever was currently attempting to stop him. You went flying backwards into the ground, “Steve!” You gasped as you did. It was then that his punches halted completely and his head whipped around to look at you. His face was twisted in anger for a couple seconds, then instantly softened when he realized it was you he had elbowed, you were the one trying to stop him.

“Y/N!” He yelled as he jumped up off the now bloodied Brock and ran over to you. Brock took this opportunity to get up off the ground, “Screw this! That slut isn’t worth it!” He spat then hightailed it back towards the party. But Steve didn’t even take notice of Brocks exit, or his comment towards you, as he was to focused in you now. But you’d heard it.

Once he reached you he crouched down in front of you, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Are you okay?!” He looked you over for a moment then froze, his eyes locked on part of your body. A blush quickly covered his face then he shook his head. “Shit,” he said as he abruptly stood up and turned around. You looked down and saw that Brock had managed to rip part of your dress and snapped one of the straps, so now most of your bra covered chest was exposed. You quickly brought your arms up over your upper body in an attempt to conceal yourself.

Steve still just stood, with his back to you, as he removed his tux jacket and held it out behind himself, towards you. “Here,” he said as he wiggled it at you.

You stood up and took the jacket, putting your arms in the sleeves and wrapping it tightly around your body. It was massive on you and ended damn near at your knees. While the sleeves well surpassed your hands, making you look like you didn’t even have hands at all. Basically you were swimming in it. “Okay. All covered,” you said quietly.

He turned around then stepped closer to you, cautiously, “Are you sure you’re okay? Did he-did he hurt you?” He nervously asked as he went to reach out to you.

You flinched away and waved him off, not really wanting to be touched at the moment, even by him. “I-i’m okay. He ah, he didn’t get the chance to,” you trailed off as your eyes welled up again. You knew you couldn’t finish that sentence, not without bursting into tears at least. Then you cleared your throat and whispered, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks to you.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” You could hear the guilt in his voice but then it quickly changed to frustration. “But what were you even thinking coming out here alone, with Brock of all people!?”

Had it been anyone else treating you like this, at a moment like this, you would have snapped on them. But this was just how Steve was with you, and you were entirely used to it. He was the only one you allowed to be this way with you, he had earned this right, a hundred times over. Tonight adding yet another reason as to why he was allowed to. “I just,” you tried to defend your actions but trailed off, as you realized you’d have to admit that seeing Steve and Madeleine kiss had made you so jealous. Jealous enough to stupidly isolate yourself with a guy you barely knew. You shook your head then lowered it. Admitting defeat, “I clearly wasn’t.”

The sound of small branches snapping made you look back up. He had stepped closer to you, now only about a foot away. And his whole demeanour had softened. His eyes dropped from yours, down to your lips then back up to meet yours again. You knew he wanted to bring up you kissing Brock, and probably scold you for foolishly wasting your first kiss on an assclown like him. He opened his mouth to speak, and you prepared yourself for the brotherly scolding he was about to unleash, but then he snapped it closed again. And to your luck, and slight dismay, he didn’t say a word about it. He just turned his head away from you then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with one of his large hands. “Why did you agree to come to prom with him?” He looked back at you.

You scoffed, “I didn’t really have any other options, Steve. It was either go with Brock or go by myself.” You crossed your arms, you clearly hadn’t managed to avoid all the brotherly scolding. Just some of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me he had asked you again?” He shook his head, “I had to hear it from everyone but you. I thought we were closer than that.”

“Again?” You asked quietly, confused by what he meant by that. Your brows knitted together momentarily, but then the rest of what he had just fucking said started to sink in, and your blood began to boil. Is he being fucking serious right now?! He wants to talk about ‘thought we were closer’?! About ‘why I didn’t tell him’?!—

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” You gaped, wide eyed, “When could I have told you, Steve? Huh? Fucking when?!” Your voice rising with each word. You scoffed again, “And you thought we were closer than that?! How do you think I felt!” You shook your head.

He looked taken aback, his eyes widened at your outburst, you’d never raised your voice at him before. Not once had you ever had a reason to, at least before tonight. His brows furrowed, “What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you replied sarcastically, “maybe the fact that you’ve been ignoring me for 2 fucking weeks! Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you about Brock!” You started to pace, you weren’t thinking about what just happened to you anymore, you were seeing red at how your so-called best friend, the secret love of your life, could just up and drop you like it was nothing. Like you were nothing. “And then you have the audacity to say ‘I thought we’re closer than that’!” you mimicked Steve’s stupid voice as best as you could, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“It’s not like that Y/N, and you know it.” He sighed and hung his head, quietly adding, “I didn’t ignore you because I wanted to.” But you barely heard the end of what he said, the anger and hurt you were feeling was too distracting.

“Oh?” You abruptly stopped pacing, “It’s not like that?” You stomped passed him to where your clutch was laying on the ground, picking it up and opening it to get your phone out. You turned back to face Steve, who was watching your every move, as you stabbed in your passcode and aggressively tapped the screen till you had opened your text window with him. “That’s funny because you haven’t responded to a single text from me in 13 days. 13 fucking days, Steve!” You turned the phone screen to faced him, then you scrolled up to show all the texts you had sent. A few everyday, yet not a single reply from him. “So please, enlighten me as to ‘what it’s like’ and ‘what I know’!”

He stepped towards you and grabbed your phone from you, “I only ignored you to protect you!” He clicked the lock button then grabbed your clutch and threw your phone back in it, snapping it shut.

“Protect me? HA!” You laughed bitterly as you snatched your clutch back from him. “My best friend, my fucking rock, the only person who got me through fucking high school, drops me like I mean nothing and I’m supposed to believe it was to protect me?!” You flung your arms up in the air, “That’s the stupidest thing I have ever fucking heard!” then you spun around and headed back to the party, or rather, headed back to the exit so you could call your dad to come pick you up.

“Y/N wait!” He yelled as he ran to catch up to you, “Just hear me out—“

You spun around to face him, “No!” You yelled as you pointed a finger in his face. “You don’t get to ignore me for almost 2 weeks, then bring the one girl in school, who made my life fucking hell, to prom and expect me to stand here and listen to you tell me it was all to protect me!”

He glared at you, and you could tell instantly that he was now just as pissed as you were, or at least close to it. You knew him better than anyone, your words had angered him, just like his had angered you. “Oh, so that is what this is all about? Me bringing Madi to prom? You’re only pissed at me right now because of just that?” He scoffed and crossed his arms, turning his face away from you. You glared at him. He was so fucking dense!

“That’s a huge part of it, yes! But not the only fucking reason!”

Then he lowered his arms slowly and turned to look back down at you. When he spoke it was calmer, almost curious. “Why? Why are you so pissed I brought her?”

You opened your mouth then snapped it shit again and furrowed your brows. Because I love you. But you couldn’t tell him that, especially not in a moment like this. So you told him the only thing you could think of, “nope, I lied, that is the only reason, and it’s because she made my life hell, Steve. Fucking hell. And you, more than anyone, knows that. Yet you still took HER, of all fucking people.”

“I had too,” He urged, “I had no fucking choice.”

“Bullshit.” You mumbled and shook your head wildly, you had now reached the ‘fuck it’ stage of being mad, you were no longer yelling. You were done with this conversation and maybe even this friendship. He had basically betrayed you when he picked her over you. “You weren’t forced to bring her, you asked her. Big difference.” You said in a surprisingly calm manor. You turned around again, needing to put as much distance between you and Steve right now as you fucking could.

“Please, Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleaded.

“No, I’m done,” you said over your shoulder as you started to walk away. You went to pull out your phone to call your dad. But before you could you felt a large hand gently, but firmly, grab your elbow, urging you to turn around. You reluctantly did and came face to face with Steve’s stupid blue eyes again. Sadness and fear swimming in them now. You figured it was because you’d never been mad at him before, he clearly wasn’t taking it well.

“Y/N, please—“ he started but was cut off by an irritating sound nearby. The one voice that would always instantly make you tense up and send a chill down your spine. Both things you did in this exact moment, when you heard her speak.

“Y/N, what are you doing with my boyfriend?” Madeleine sneered.

You shut your eyes tightly and took a deep calming breath. Trying to will yourself to not react to her words. Or rather to her straight up claiming Steve as her own.

“We aren’t datin—“ Steve started but this time you cut him off.

“Absolutely nothing, Madeleine,” you replied as you opened your eyes and looked over at her, with an obviously fake smile plastered on your face, then you turned and made eye contact with Steve, “He’s all yours.” And with that you yanked your arm from his hold then spun on your heels. You didn’t miss the hurt in Steve’s eyes at your words though. You knew your last comment had cut him deep, but you were done being second best. Done pinning over a boy you’d never have. Done with this whole fucking town and everyone in it.

You called your dad and the second you got off the phone with him you burst into tears. This had been hands down the worst night of your life to date. You’d been betrayed, attacked, tossed aside and humiliated. And almost all of those things were done to you by your so called ‘best friend’. By your first love. By the one person you never expected that from, the one person who had promised to always have your back. Yet, in the end he didn’t, not truly. He had ignored you for 2 weeks, 2 fucking weeks. You clearly didn’t mean a damn thing to him.

10 minutes later your dad pulled up and you quickly tried to wipe away the tear smudged makeup from your face. Knowing that it was futile as it was probably quite obvious that you’d been crying. That thought was answered when you got in the truck, and he instantly started asking questions as to why you were in a tux jacket, and why you’d been crying. You told him you didn’t want to talk about it, but assured him that you were okay and nothing happened. He didn’t want to drop it at first, but you looked over at him and simply said, “North Korea”. He narrowed his eyes at you, then sighed turning to look out the front window as he put the truck in gear and began to drive home.

You and him had come up with this ‘safe word,’ of sorts, when you were around 14. It was your dad's idea, he had told you that if you ever needed a ride, or to be picked up from somewhere you didn’t feel safe, that he always would. Regardless of if you were drunk, high or whatever. But if you didn’t want to tell him exactly why you needed to be picked up, all you had to do was say ‘North Korea’. And he would never ask about it again. He said it worked as no one ever knows anything about that country, unless they release the information themselves. And no one really ever asks. That was exactly what it stood for. No questions and no talking about it.

Once you both got home, you ran up to your room and slammed your window shut then locked it. You were not interested in Steve sneaking into your room tonight to ‘talk’ it out. That was a regular occurrence throughout the years. He snuck into your room often, it was always completely innocent, and occasionally he’d pass out on your floor, but usually he would just come and talk to you, after a particularly difficult day. He’d normally stay till you got everything out or passed out, whichever came first, then he’d climb back out your window and go home. Or at least most of the time.

The first time your dad had caught him passed out on the floor, he woke you both up and escorted Steve down to the front door. You couldn’t make out everything said but you did hear your dad tell him to not make a habit of this, and if you absolutely needed him to stay over, he was to ‘keep his hands to himself or else’. It was fucking awkward, but nowhere near as awkward as the rambling sex and protection talk he had with you directly after Steve left. Which was hilarious, as Steve was probably the very last guy on earth who would want to sleep with you. Finally you’d had enough of the talk and actually yelled, “I’m still a virgin dad! and probably will be till I’m fucking 80!” Then you stormed off to your room. God, what you wouldn’t give to have mom back for the dreaded ‘birds and the bees’ talk. She was always so much better at this stuff then your dad. He was a bumbling mess most of the time, but he loved you and you loved him. You were all each other had now a days, since she died.

That night you passed out on the couch, surprisingly fast. Probably because you had the TV on, some random infomercial drowning on in the background. That always helped you sleep, it was your plan B option, if your plan A couldn’t come over that night.

You woke up early in the morning to the TV off and a note from your dad saying there was breakfast in the oven, but that he had to run to the shop to deal with a few things but he’d be back shortly. When he got home an hour later, you’d spent the whole time thinking and ignoring your phone. Or rather, the endless calls and texts from your friends and Steve. You ended up blocking Steve’s number shortly after you woke up, just so your phone would shut up.

You’d sat your dad down, and asked if you could go stay with your Aunt Carol, in Boston for the summer. You reasoned that she was closer to Hartford University, which was where you’d been accepted to, and would be starting up classes in the fall. So you’d be able to travel down and check out the campus whenever you’d like. He wasn’t a huge fan of the idea, or maybe it was more the fact that you’d conveniently brought this up, the day after he had picked you up crying, in a ripped prom dress, and obviously Steve’s tux jacket. But North Korea had been called, so he couldn’t ask nor bring that up. He called your Aunt to ask her permission, you heard her excited screaming through the phone, from a totally different room. Clearly that was a yes. Then you ran upstairs and packed your bags, you only packed what you’d need for the summer. As you’d come back and fully pack up for school, closer to classes starting.

Though, unbeknownst to you as you loaded up your bags into your dads truck, so he could drive you to the bus depot, this would be the last time you stepped foot in this town for almost 7 years. Your dad would end up packing up all your belongings and driving the 11 hours to drop them off to you before school started.

But you got on the bus to Boston, waving goodbye to your dad as it pulled away. And watching as the small town of Buckhannon, West Virginia slowly drifted into the horizon. During the 11 hour ride you texted all your friends, explaining that you had left town for the summer, well all except one. They were all pretty butt hurt at first that you didn’t even say goodbye. But they would soon learn the truth of what had happened with both Brock and Steve, as gossip always spread like wildfires in small towns. Especially Buckhannon, with it’s population of just shy of 6,000. And after that they all understood 100% why you left. You kept in touch with them over the years. Well, all except one.

January 2018.

Your fingers ghosted over the words on the wedding invitation, the wedding date being almost 6 months away meant it landed smack dab in the beginning of summer break. You’d be off work and maybe it was finally time to return home. Maybe it was finally time to face everyone. To face him. You had no idea how that was going to play out, but before you could talk yourself out of it, you typed the RSVP link into your phone’s browser. And quickly filled out the small form, selecting just you and no date, then hit send. Whelp, there it is. You had officially RSVP’d and were now obligated to go back. There was no avoiding it now …..Fuuuck. What have I done?!

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[transistus]

Coming Out and Transitioning: My Parents’ Response

[Trigger Warning: Death mention, self harm mention]

Coming out is always something that is met with a degree of anxiety, but it is also the first step in being able to publicly transition for many people. It is a deeply personal thing and there is no set timeframe in which you have to inform others about your identity. However, it is also worth asking yourself ‘is it safe’ to tell this person about your identity, as you should never put yourself in a potentially dangerous situation.

Many people choose to come out to their parents, and the reception you can receive varies from person to person. Some people are accepted as their new identity straight away, then there are others who are less fortunate and face an uphill struggle to be accepted if at all.

For me, coming out to my parents was an uphill struggle. You see, I had always been a ’tomboy’ in my early years (a common theme among transmen) which was no issue to my parents at the time, but as I got older they started insisting that I present myself in a more feminine way. The first time they pushed for me to be more feminine was in my last two years of secondary school and to keep them happy I went along with it. At this time in my life I was aware that I was ‘different’ but I was yet to define how I was different. I didn’t know anything about transgender people at the time, so initially I believed the discomfort I felt was simply down to being a teenager which is a strange and uncomfortable time in a person’s life anyway.

The first step in my then unofficial transition was getting a haircut. As the last day of my time in secondary school drew near, I told my parents that I wanted to cut my hair short - they were less than thrilled about the idea. Before my transition I had hair that went past my bum that my mother loved, though for me it was a pain to deal with and I loathed having such long hair. I did manage to convince them to let me do it as part of a ‘fresh start’ but even after I had cut my hair short they would make numerous complaints about my decision to cut it for a while, often asking when I’d grow it out again.

The discomfort I felt about my identity persisted into my first year as an undergraduate at university in 2013. During this time, I began to overcorrect and overcompensate for the discomfort I felt, I began presenting and dressing in a more feminine way than I did in my last years of school in the hope that how I felt about myself would go away.

It didn’t.

Come the second year of university, after a discussion with my now fiancé who was the first to say that ‘you’re like a guy in a girl’s body', I finally found the word that best described me: transgender. It ticked all the boxes on how I felt and perceived myself and I began looking into taking HRT in the next few years. I stopped trying to be overly feminine, began wearing men’s clothes, and, for the time being, kept this revelation about myself quiet from my parents.

I wouldn’t come out to my parents until early 2016. I spoke to them individually, explaining how I felt, what being transgender was, the steps I would have to take to transition, and how I wanted to be called ‘Alastair’.

I received a less than warm reception.

My father couldn’t understand ‘why I wanted to be a boy’ and would regularly say things such as ‘you can’t be a boy, you’re a girl’, or ‘it’s just a phase’, he’d even send me links to anti-transgender articles now and again. All in all, he would come to criticise my decisions every step of the way for a while.

As for my mother, she blamed herself for me being transgender, frequently asking ‘is it something I did wrong?’ or ‘I must be a terrible mother’, occasionally she’d criticise me for transitioning saying things along the lines of how ‘I’d ruin my body’, but it wasn’t to the same relentless extent my father did. I would repeatedly inform them that my decision to transition wasn’t the result of something they’d ‘done wrong’ it was just who I was. I did my best to discuss being transgender with them as well as point them towards useful resources to no avail.

This lack of understanding and acceptance would continue for the next year for my mother and the next two years for my father.

I started testosterone in September 2017 shortly after beginning my Masters in Psychology under my new name. This was when my mother’s attitude changed, she saw how happy and confident starting HRT had made me (in her words: ‘after seeing you depressed and self-harming for so many years it’s nice to have my happy child back’) she began to ask more questions and slowly began to understand me. She started trying to get to grips with my name, pronouns, and referring to me as her son and I still have the first birthday card she gave me where she used my new name. To this day she remains my biggest supporter alongside my fiancé.

My father would prove more reluctant to accept me. To my mother’s credit, she also started talking to my father about my transition, explaining how my happiness comes first and that I hadn’t decided to transition on a whim one day because I felt like it, but my father would remain obstinate in his opinions until 2018. 

The last time my father criticised me was a week before top surgery in May 2018 where he insisted that I would ‘regret having surgery in a few years’ among other comments. However, after my surgery he started to keep his opinions to himself, and although he didn’t overtly support me it was better than being criticised regularly.

The real change came that December on Christmas Day. The change in his attitude was unexpected and it began with a card addressed to my new name. After Christmas, he informed his friends that I was now his son and he even started referring to me by name along with male pronouns (he would make mistakes every now and again but he was trying). To this day I’m not too sure what sparked the change in his behaviour towards me, but I couldn’t have been happier. 

I was looking forward to starting 2019 with this new found father-son relationship, but the joy was short lived.

My father was killed in an accident in January 2019. I was distraught and suffered from a dreadful bout of PTSD due to the nature of his death, but the one thing that brought me some comfort despite the horror of it all was that we didn’t part on a bad note. He had come to accept me as his son and had made tremendous progress in trying to understand and support me before his tragic death.

On that sombre note it’s time to conclude this post with a few final thoughts on coming out to your parents and transitioning. 

I wanted to write about my experience as an example that, in some cases (sadly, not all), your parents can change their way of thinking, they can come to respect you for who you are when given enough time. 

Obviously, you can never really know for sure how your parents will react to being informed of your new identity. Some parents accept you without question. Some may reject you being transgender entirely, brushing it off as a phase or being openly hostile. Some may come to terms with your transition faster than others. Some need to be educated, and others just need to process the changes you’re going through in their own way.

Whether or not you decide to come out to your parents is ultimately your decision to make. If they do accept you, that’s fantastic, but know that even if they don’t accept you, you will find people in your life who will, and if they’re slow to come to terms with it like my parents were, that’s fine too.