#then MAYBE after like 6 years of school he could get a decent job

[bioethicists]

irt poverty/homelessness + alcohol use (esp with @butchfeygela‘s tags on my post)- people really underestimate the function that substance use/alcohol use can have for someone who is unhoused. being unhoused is boring, cold, painful, + lonely. substances can allow the 8 hours panhandling to get the $45 you need for a motel to fly by. alcohol reduces your perception of the cold + can knock you out whben you can’t sleep. substances can help you cope with the physical deterioration from malnutrition, constant stress, + sleeping outside. substances can provide social connection with others who you would otherwise not enjoy or help you cope with being alone.

not only that but- many unhoused people are stuck in a seemingly inescapable position. the pathway to financial stability or even housing is difficult or even impossible. in the wake of that hopelessness, the downsides of substance use start to seem insignificant. arrest? you’re getting arrested anyway for sleeping outside, peeing outside, standing in the wrong place, etc. physical danger? you’re already beat the fuck up, anyway, right? loss of relationships? you’ve lost most people already. inability to keep a job? nobody will hire you + you can’t stay employed, anyway, because you have no car + no shower.

perhaps for you or me, the cons of heroin use or binge drinking nightly greatly outweigh the pros. that isn’t the case for everyone. if we are really serious about ending overdose/addiction, we need to start looking at giving people lives worth recovering into instead of shaming them for their own hopelessness.

[eddiexmunsonlover]

(Eddie Munson x Plus Size!Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1

Next Chapter ->

WC: 2.8k

Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language used. Parental alcohol abuse, toxic family relationships, and bullying mentioned.

Author's Note: This first chapter is on the shorter side as it is mainly set-up, and provides a lot of information on Reader's background and friendships with other main characters.

Sunday, September 15th, 1985

The warm September air engulfs your face, blowing through your hair as the familiar streets of Hawkins pass by. Sitting in the passenger seat, head leaning against the door frame, and Led Zeppelin playing on a cassette tape as your mom drives the route home. Your new, and old home. It still didn’t feel quite real that you were back here, not so soon, and not to stay. Though you weren’t born there, Hawkins has always been the place you think of when you hear ‘home’. It wasn’t just the town or the trailer you’d lived in, but the people here that you held the fondest memories of in your heart and formed the deepest bonds you’ve ever had with anyone.

You were born in Virginia, and lived there until you were 8 years old. Until Dad’s drinking led him to lose yet another job, leaving your mother at a loss for what to do. She was smart and skilled, but didn’t make nearly enough money to support the family at the time. Her sister, Aunt Patty, encouraged your family to move out to where she lived in Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe a big move and change of pace was just what your family needed, she suggested. So, the summer before the start of 4th grade in 1976, your family made the move to the Forest Hills Trailer Park in Hawkins, Indiana. Your uncle helped your dad get a job with him doing construction, while your mother managed to find a decent paying receptionist job. 

Your home life wasn’t great. Your parent’s relationship was tumultuous at best, largely due to your father’s drinking problems. You and your mother at times were the best of friends, other times she made you feel like you were never good enough to meet her standards, whether it was with your weight, your grades, or how you dressed. Your school life had never been great either, and that didn’t change in Hawkins. You occasionally dealt with bullies that liked to make fat jokes, but it wasn’t all bad, you also formed some good, solid friendships too. 

Meanwhile, the issues at home and with your parents’ marriage only intensified after the move. After 6 years in Hawkins, your mom had finally had enough of your dad’s bullshit, kicking him out and planning to divorce him. A couple days later, he landed in Jail for a DUI, his 3rd one to be specific. A week after that, 3 months into your 10th grade year in late 1982, a UHAUL was packed up with all your belongings, moving your mom and you back to Virginia to stay with family. 

While the events of your home and school life were sometimes painful, you were grateful that they led you to seek out music for comfort and coping. Music is the love of your life, and what you always turn to when life and your thoughts feel like it’s just too much to bear. It started with the classics that your family raised you on, from Patsy Cline to Jimi Hendrix to Lynyrd Skynyrd to Johnny Cash. You loved all kinds of music, expanding your taste and catalog to a huge variety throughout the years, even beginning to work odd jobs in your early teens to fund your musical exploration. Music wasn’t just a way for you to escape, but became a way to express yourself as well. You learned how to play guitar and bass, and began songwriting as well as a means of emotional release and self-expression. It was the only thing that kept you sane through your life transitions, especially during the years living in Hawkins when problems at home intensified. Music, and him… Eddie Munson.

*Oh, all of my love, all of my love

Oh, all of my love to you…*

Your chest tightened as your thoughts inevitably went to him, how could they not? You tried your best to steer your mind away from him during the move back to Hawkins, but it was pointless. Eddie had been your best friend all those years you lived here, some of the hardest years of your life. Honestly, he was the best friend you’ve ever had. You liked to think you were the same for him, at least then. Your trailer was right across the street from Eddie’s Uncle Wayne’s trailer, Eddie oftentimes staying with Wayne for weeks or months at a time whenever Al Munson disappeared on a bender, some crime scheme, or his stints in jail. Though, you didn’t end up meeting Eddie until a few months after you moved and started 4th grade at Hawkins Elementary. 

A soft smile creeps across your face as you remember 5th grade Eddie, coming to your rescue when you tripped in the hallway at school, other students standing around and laughing at you. Your 9 year old self was mortified, so embarrassed, until Eddie appeared and told them all where they could shove it, effectively clearing the halls of students and helping you up. From then on, anytime he was at Wayne’s you two would hang out; playing make believe in the woods next to the trailer park, Eddie teaching you how to play DnD, sharing books, music, and watching scary movies. You two bonded over your pain caused by your family and Hawkins’ residents who’d branded you as outcasts. You both harbored a lot of pain and anger, sharing a love for metal music as the perfect cathartic release for those emotions. You’d become so close over the years. You often missed him during the times you didn’t get to see him as much, like whenever his Dad returned home and he wasn’t at Wayne’s as much, or when he moved on to middle and high school, being a grade ahead of you. Your friendship remained strong during those times regardless. 

But all of that is in the past. He was your best friend… though in your heart he still is, and always will be.

*I get a little bit lonely, just a little, just a little

Just a little bit lonely, just a little bit lonely*

You sigh as the song comes to an end and the sign for Forest Hills Trailer Park came into view. You hold your breath as your mother turns onto your road, Uncle Wayne’s trailer and yours coming into view. You don’t know why you feel anxious, Eddie would have graduated in ‘84, and likely gotten the hell out of Hawkins as soon as he could. Probably out in LA trying to make a name for himself in the music industry. You shook the thoughts from your head, noting the unfamiliar van in Wayne’s driveway as your mother pulled into your own across the street.

She sighs as she puts the car into park next to yours, a black ‘81 Chevy C10 truck that your father so generously gifted you upon hearing of your return to Hawkins. It’s the LEAST he could do. Your mother looked at you with a small smile, “Home sweet home”. You return her smile before both exiting her station wagon and begin unloading the last of your belongings. Your mom and you had already been back in Hawkins for a few days, staying with your Aunt Patty while coming to the trailer everyday to deep clean before moving back in. You could only assume your Dad had hit a rough patch when you heard he was being evicted from the trailer, missing a few rent payments. Around the same time back in Virginia as you were starting your senior year, your mom got laid off from her job. An old coworker from Hawkins then just so happened to tell her about an open position at her new job in Indianapolis, one that paid more than either of your Mom’s old jobs in Hawkins or Virginia. When she heard about your dad, it was decided, circumstances aligning perfectly. Upend your life and move back to Hawkins, again. You can’t say you were really upset about it, Hawkins has been home for you since that fateful day in 4th grade.

~

Eddie groaned in frustration. Searching his vest pockets, under his blanket, on any flat surface in his room for his goddamn cigarettes, patience quickly wearing thin. He huffed, looking along the floor of his room, around dirty and clean clothes thrown about until he saw the familiar package peeking out from under his bed. “There you areeee” a cheeky smile adorning his face as he grabbed it from the floor, swiftly removing a cigarette and putting it between his lips. He sat down on a chair he had propped next to the open window in his room as he lit the cigarette, taking a puff before looking out his window. Eyes landing on what appeared to be new neighbors moving into the trailer across the street. Your trailer. Wayne had told him about your dad, a small voice of hope in the back of his head wondered if you’d come back. A voice he’d quickly squashed. It’s been nearly 3 years since you’d left, and though he knew better than to think the thoughts of you would ever stop popping into his head, that certainly didn’t stop him from trying to keep them at bay.

Taking another puff from his cigarette, his attention was captured by the girl he saw across the street. Her back to him as she looks into the trunk of the station wagon in the driveway. He unashamedly lets his eyes take her in. Short, thick, curvy. Black shorts, cropped tank top, hair up in a messy bun. She didn’t look like most of the girls in Hawkins or in the magazines… and he liked, no, loved that. He couldn’t help but notice how much her body resembled yours, or atleast how he’d imagined it’d look now after the few years. He watched as she started to squat to lift a tv console out of the trunk. Being the gentleman his Uncle Wayne raised him to be, he was about to sprint over; introduce himself and help her, knowing how damn heavy those fuckers could be. Just as the thought passed his mind, she lifts it almost effortlessly, his eyes practically bulging from his head. He wasn’t expecting that to turn him on so much, but goddamn. He admires the thick arms and legs exerting that strength, unable to not notice the pronounced curve of her ass as she climbed the steps into the trailer. 

Before he could pop a semi, a burning sensation on his thigh grabs his attention. The cherry from his cigarette falling into his lap as he drooled over his new neighbor like a virgin.

“Shit, Jesus H. Christ!” he grimaces, stomping out the cherry just as the telephone begins to ring. Groaning, he rose to his feet, nearly tripping over the clothes on his floor as he stomps down the hall. 

“Yeah, what?” he answered unceremoniously, greeted by Jeff’s voice reminding Eddie to pick him up on his way to band practice at Gareth’s. 

“Yeah yeah, I’m on my way” Eddie hung up the phone, dramatically exhaling as he turned back to his room to grab his sweetheart, and his van keys off the counter before leaving the trailer. He glanced across the street as he descended the porch steps, hoping to catch another glimpse of the new neighbor only to be disappointed as the trailer door was closed, with no one outside. 

~

You sigh, dropping the last box of your belongings on your stripped bed, glancing around at your bare bedroom, deciding on where to start. You rummage through one of your boxes, finding your radio and setting it on your dresser. You press play on the cassette you’d titled Chill Mix #3, smiling as All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix began playing. You decide to start on the biggest feat, unpacking and putting away all your clothes. You let your mind focus on your task and the sound of the music as you move, singing along to each passing song. It was only a matter of time before thoughts and images of him slipped through the barrier, being back in the exact place that held so many memories of him and your friendship. It made your stomach turn and a lump form in your throat. You attempt to cough it away, forcing yourself to think of your other friends here in Hawkins you were excited to see again. The toothy, goofy smile of one of your youngster friends, Dustin Henderson popped into your head, effectively putting a smile on your face.

You’d known Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will for a couple years now. First meeting Will through his mother Joyce, who was good friends with your mom. It’d started sometime when you were in middle school, going over to Joyce’s to hang out with Jonathan and Will while your moms’ went out to shop and vent about their relationship issues. The other boys showing up a handful of those times turned into Dustin’s mom and Lucas’s parents asking you to babysit in the summer months, which often turned into babysitting all the boys at the same time.

The boys and Erica came to view you as an older sister figure, and them, your sometimes annoying but loveable younger siblings. The same quickly became true for the newer member of the party Max, over your visit to Hawkins this summer. Taking a liking to you as the ‘cool’ older girl the boys often spoke of and hung out with. Though you were flattered but dismissive of the ‘cool’ label, you learned quickly that like you, Max didn’t give a damn about societal ideals of ‘cool’ and what or who a young woman should be. They were freshman this year at Hawkins High, one of the few positives you looked forward to starting your senior year here.

As you move on to hanging up your posters and decorations, you think about your other, newer friends, Steve and Robin. To be fair, Robin wasn’t exactly a new friend, you’d met her in school when previously living in Hawkins, but were never more than casual, friendly acquaintances. Steve, on the other hand, you never expected to become friends with before this past summer. You’d visited Hawkins every summer since you’d moved back to Virginia; staying with your Aunt Patty, babysitting, spending time with the kids, your cousins and your Dad.

When you came to visit this summer in May, you’d picked up a job working at Scoops Ahoy with Robin and Steve. Your once casual friendship with Robin blossomed into a close one, both taking pleasure in teasing Steve day after day, watching him fail in his attempts to pick up girls after his break-up with Nancy and declining position in the social hierarchy of Hawkins. You were surprised to witness the change in Steve’s character from the Steve you knew of through middle and early high school, into someone actually likable. When Robin confessed her sexual identity to you two, it marked a milestone in you three’s friendship, along with the events of the mall fire that happened soon after. You three were nearly inseparable for the remainder of the summer after, until August rolled around and it was time for you to go back to Virginia. Robin was the first friend you called when you learned about your return back to Hawkins. Thrilled to go through her Senior year with you, considering Steve graduated this past May.

A few hours after you’d started and the sky now dark outside, you sigh loudly laying back on your bed as you finally finished putting away and organizing all your belongings. Looking around your room, you feel a wave of comfort hit you. Your room has always been your safe space, and it just feels… looks so right here in this room, compared to your room of the past 3 years in Virginia. Even with all the new decorations and posters you’d acquired since you last lived in this room years ago. You feel a sense of hope overtake your thoughts. Maybe this year things will finally work out and go right for you, feel right for you, for the first time in years. You let those thoughts linger as you walk out into the kitchen, deciding to make a sandwich for dinner. Feeling the exhaustion from the last week of moving weigh on your body, you kiss your mother goodnight, and take a relaxing shower before crawling into bed. You let the songs playing on the local ‘soft rock’ radio station lull you as exhaustion overtakes you. As you fall asleep, you cling onto that hopeful, comforting feeling before your first day back at Hawkins High tomorrow.

[pixleslutz]

PLEASE ON MY KNEES BEGGING FOR NESS ILHSMMMM HE'S MY POOKIE PLEASE ANYTHING FLUFF MAYBE EVEN STEAMMY PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭

If you do this request tysm, stay safe and healthy ▄█▀█●

Anon requested Ness so I shall deliver (I hope) I might do some steamy if yall want a next chapter I’m sorry it took 3 days I just couldn’t come up with a plot and my period has been kicking my ass so I’ve done nothing but sleep and read others stories but today a idea flew to my brain and so I wrote it 💜 I’m still trying to tweak my work as I go any tips are appreciated

Nessxfem!reader

Hope you all enjoy! Much love my sunflowers stay safe and healthy aswell !!!

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

‼️Request are open btw{on my knees begging yall for requests🧎‍♀️}‼️

Photographerxmodel type Au

Words:1k+

Y/n,ness,and Kaiser all childhood best friends ,after high school ended they all went their separate ways but kept in contact until y/n went abroad to study photography and ness and Kaiser went to go apply to be models for and expensive brand

6 years later y/n was setting at a cafe in Shibuya drinking her favorite drink thinking of where she could apply for a photography job.lost in thought she didn't notice her 2 childhood best friends enter the cafe until Kaiser noticed a familiar face that looked like y/n his childhood best friend he walked up to them  "hello might I ask your name? "They were snatched out of thought and they quickly said “Y/n. Kaiser ! I haven’t seen you in years is ness still with you ?” as soon as Ness heard her speak he ran over to see her  not even worrying about his spot in line . "Y/n we've missed you so much!"they both said in unison not having seen each other in 6 years they all decided to catch up on what each other was doing..."so y/n what have you been doing since we haven't seen each other in sooooo long".Ness asked. “Well I have been studying abroad in photography and I finally finished about 2 weeks ago so I decided to come back to Japan to see if I could find a decent photography job and so far I haven't had any hits  what about you two?”... Kaiser spoke up "me and Ness became models for Louis Vuitton and we have been looking for a photographer and looks like we stumbled upon you at the perfect time

You can come by the company tomorrow and apply to be our photographer I'm 100% sure they will accept you" Kaiser says with a smile “

You thought for a few seconds and decided you would.

So you all 3 began to chat some more about how everyone was doing and what has been happening

“I really enjoyed seeing you both and getting to talk and catch up but it's really late and I need to make it back to my apartment so I think I'll leave first” then they both got up with you “we need to go aswell ... goodbye y/n" they both said in unison .. “wait a second y/n “Kaiser said you spun around to see what he needed he ran up to you with a piece of paper with the company's address. “This is the address you need to come to tomorrow” he said then walked back to where Ness was . “Bye guys I had tons of fun today thanks for the job opportunity aswell” . You then turned back around and headed for your apartment.

~The next day ~

You arrived at the address Kaiser gave you and walked in you asked the lady at the front desk if she could take you to where the manager is

She gladly obliged and took you to where she was .. “thank you “you said and bowed then you knocked. “Come in” says the manager. You walked in and took a seat and she soon asked “you must be the girl Kaiser told me about yesterday”.. “ yes I am he must have told you about me wanting to be he and Ness’s photographer?” You questioned. “Yes you are correct and I would love for you to become their photographer” . “So when do I start” . “Next week Monday morning at  9am” .. “ ok will do thank you for the job” then you got up bowed and left.

~5 months later~

Ness’s pov

It's been 5 months since y/n started being our photographer and my crush on her has never left even after high school and I’m not sure if they feel the same here lately Kaiser has been around her a lot more and he takes her out places in his spare time and just leaves me hanging and it kinda pisses me off that he keeps hogging her and today I decided to take y/n on a date ..

for the past 2 months Kaiser has been spending a lot of time with me and he also had taken me out plenty of times. And I've noticed how Ness’s behavior has changed around Kaiser and i. it breaks my heart to see my high school crush sulk.. I haven't been talking to him because I'm always with Kaiser so I decided today I would ask if he would like to go to the park where we could talk and I can confess to him.

An hour later we were done with the photoshoot and Kaiser as always tried to get me to come with him to a restaurant but I declined and he just looked at me dumbfounded as I walked over to Ness .

“Hey Ness?” I tapped on his back to get his attention.

“Hey y/n can I help you with anything?” He asked

I gathered up all the courage I had and asked “would you like to go out to the park with me ?”

Ness stood in shock that you were the first to ask him out on a date to the park .

“It's ok if you don't want to you said in a panicked tone. Ness jumped out of his trance “no no I would love to go out with you” he said with a sweet smile ...

You had noticed over the past 5 months how he would always be staring at you or trying to make conversation with you but Kaiser would always but in and cut him off you had thought if he felt the same way you did....

~At the park~

Neither of you talked the whole way there when you both sat down on the swings Ness broke the foreboding silence “so what did you need y/n ? “You stood up and said..”Ness I have wanted to ask you this ever since the end of high school but didn’t have the courage or confidence .. I love you Ness” ..

Ness froze not believing what he had just heard he came back to his senses when you were crying because you thought he didn't like you back he then jumped up and picked you up and spun you around and brought you into a loving kiss he then broke the kiss after a few minutes to catch y'all's breath” I have always loved you y/n and always will” he then kissed you again you then broke down in happy tears and so did ness “soooo are we a thing now ?”he asked you lightly hit him on the arm “yes of course” you smiled.. Ness smiled and pulled you in for a hug

The end

[idontknowreallywhy]

Ok, I had a couple of hours in a hospital waiting room today so before I forgot the threads of where this story was going, I typed it all into notepad and well here it is, unedited as I think I’m next on the list to be called in and then I’ll have to go back to work and maybe after all that I’ll lose my nerve again.

We’ve not got to the answer yet, but here is some more Virgil pondering / reminiscing along the way…

Ch 2 - Muscle Memory

Virgil was 8-and-three-quarters when he had his first proper piano lesson. It was much too late.

The teacher had lamented it on a weekly basis. It was a such shame, she sighed, that the raw talent Virgil displayed was unlikely ever to amount to anything now. Everyone who knew about such things said all the greats were in formal training from their early years. It was very sad, apparently.

Nearly-9 Virgil didn’t pay all this much heed, he never intended to be a ‘great’ anything. He only wanted to play as many tunes as he could and the only person he truly cared about enjoying it was his Mommy.

Virgil’s only interest in those much vaunted ‘greats’ had been in watching them carefully in online videos to learn how they managed to make the leap from this chord to that melody line or how to adjust his hand position, just… so, in order to play that nippy little counter-melody that his fingers had stumbled over. So it became that, by the age of 10, with little formal training, he was beginning to exceed his mother’s technical ability (albeit he’d allow nobody to make such a comment, not even her).

And anyway, he’d been learning to play his whole life. One of their Christmas traditions, after Virgil had played the variations on carols he’d worked on for the occasion was to play family videos on the holoprojector. Every time, he’d blush as his last festive chord began to fade away because at that moment John would fire up the first one and it was always the same.

Wobbly home footage from the ‘30s showed himself as a round-cheeked 6 month old sat on Mommy’s lap at her piano, mashing the keys with his chubby fists and kicking his little legs in delight, while toddler Scotty squealed “Virgie’s playing Pan-eeeo” in the background and his Dad chuckled fondly from behind the camera. Focussed mainly on the objectively adorable infant, the camera panned up only for 0.87 of a second to show his Mom gazing fondly at the back of his fuzzy head. Yes, he had a screenshot of that moment saved on his tablet for… well, the harder times.

He smiled as he recalled the next part of the tradition - just before they all risked getting melancholy, Gordon would leap on to his lap and impersonate baby Virgil with passionate abandon, while Scott was prevailed upon to do an impression of his squeaky toddler-self (come to think of it, that impression sounded a heck of a lot like present day Alan but best not mention that to the poor kid).

Since that famous moment he and his mom had spent time together by that piano most days, either together, with her initially guiding his hands and eventually simple duets, or each quietly sat listening to the other play.

It was his school teacher, on hearing him practise snippets of a Mozart concerto on the music room piano at lunch times who had suggested the local instrumental teacher - a jack of all trades who could play any instrument decently but clearly wasn’t inspired by her day job. That first teacher didn’t last long in the end, not when her criticisms were overhead by a certain Jefferson Tracy who took exception to anyone who told one of his boys they couldn’t be great at anything they chose to be great at. ‘Proper’ lessons ceased while his parents sought somebody who would be more interested in nurturing Virgil for himself rather than in raising ‘the next great prodigy’. Unfortunately there weren’t many options in the wilds of Kansas so things lapsed for a while and, well, events intervened and everyone lost focus on the fun stuff.

The months after Mom died were quiet. It wasn’t that his family didn’t want him to play. It was just that the sound of the piano was so heavily associated with their mother that inevitably one of his brothers would choke up and rush from the room or Dad would go still and pale. He loved his family dearly and couldn’t bear to hurt them more, even though ceasing the activity they’d bonded over made him feel he was losing her all over again - he couldn’t just… stop.

So he’d skip lunch and monopolise the school piano, stay late some days, sometimes bolt down breakfast to get to school early and squeeze in some precious minutes before slipping into the back of his classroom late when he’d got carried away. But it… it. wasn’t. enough. The satisfaction in his playing was gone. The music itself was somehow gone, replaced by a queasy kind of desperation. He just didn’t have enough time to master the difficult phrases and his hands trembled with frustration and urgency because he only had 20 mins before he had to sit through double chemistry… He was hungry and tired but she’d loved this piece and he just needed to get it RIGHT.

It was Scott who saved him. Aware of Virgil’s frequent absence from the school canteen and not being able to bear the look on his best friend’s face when he forced himself to walk past the piano stool he came up with a plan and raided the savings he’d earmarked for the air cadets trip that summer. One evening when he slunk home late and went to collapse in the room he shared with his big brother he found a small electric piano squeezed into the space at the end of his bed, with a top -end pair of headphones perched on top. Big brother followed him in and watched with a small smile. Virgil had thrown himself at the boy across the room and babbled incoherent gratitude into his chest through oh-so-snotty tears-oh-Scott-your-hoodie-sorry and they’d clung to each other for what felt like hours until Scott had suggested maybe he should actually give the thing a go.

That was the first step in his music returning to him. The second was an unrelated conversation with Gordon.

The kid would ramble on at length about something that had caught his imagination and Virgil was the best at showing an interest which meant he learned a lot more lobster facts than he ever thought he’d need. When Gordon discovered that there were people who did swimming races AS THEIR JOB, Virgil was regaled with the training regimes of famous aquatic athletes and mostly smiled and nodded until one morning at breakfast Gordon started babbling about visualisation and how one could increase fitness and build muscle memory with their imagination.

From that moment, Virgil rarely travelled anywhere without an earbud in his right ear and twitching fingers. In fairness he never got very good at maintaining the “imagination” part… on long trips home in Two when Gordon had dozed off in the co-pilot seat, he’d quietly select a Rachmaninov concerto and ‘play’ it through secretly and silently while gazing out the windscreen. His brother, never a heavy sleeper, would crack an eye and watch with a little smile as his brother would slip into “air piano” at what must have been particularly dramatic moments. The expression of joy on his big brother bear’s face was an immediate antidote to the temptation to tease and Gordon kept it to himself, feeling privileged to have seen his brother entirely care-free.

Virgil didn’t visualise piano while he painted though. You can’t play piano (even in your mind) while holding a brush - he’d tried a few times and ended up dropping it. So when alone in his studio he picked non-piano pieces as a soundtrack to his artistic expression.

So yeah, it wasn’t air-piano behind the paint splatters either. Virgil lay on the floor and stared up at the purple starburst that had appeared at some point over the last 24 hours. He was coming to the conclusion his studio was definitely haunted.

…..

Note: this is what Gordon catches Virg ‘playing’ on long trips home in TB2… initially it’s just the bass notes where he gets a flickr of the left hand little finger but by the time the solo kicks off at 2.15 in, he’s in full air piano mode…

[jiwonbe]

hello friends it is i, returning with an attempt at a second muse after i accidentally lost one kdjhfjkdhskhf. as always, please like this to plot as i ramble about him and add in some badly thought out wc LOL

ANYWAYS INTRODUCING ... ! yoon jiwon, born feb 3

(tw for parental + other death)

he was born in seoul but both of his parents died in a car accident on new year's while getting him a surprise

he was 6

he never learned what that surprise was

since his parents were both only children and he had no extended family that could be found/were willing to take him in, he was put into an orphanage with a ton of other children

contrary to popular belief, he didn't hate his time there. he still got to attend school and make friends with other kids

ofc there was the bullying that he had to deal with at school for being parentless but he had long accepted that as a fact of life and usually just ignored anything said like that

after being struck by tragedy so early on in his life, he sort of was a recluse and only stayed friends with kids who were his friends before the accident since he continued attending the same school after that

he was really close to a few boys at school who were good friends of his, and he had thought that they would finish elementary school and move onto middle school together

but one of his friends ended up passing away tragically, being in the wrong place at the wrong time

being subjected to so many losses in a row really took a toll on him and he became more closed off and only spoke when spoken to

during these times, he turned to music since it was something that couldn't be stolen from him. his christmas present that he had been given (before the fateful new year's day) was an ipod and he still has it despite it not really working well anymore but he can't bring himself to throw it out

when he was in middle school, he was (surprise!) adopted by a japanese/korean couple who had been scouting out a few different orphanages and had quote unquote 'thought he was perfect' etc etc he moves to japan before his first year of high school (in the spring so he has a few months to adjust and learn japanese)

he has a relatively good time in japan, though the language barrier was difficult and he literally has to learn as much japanese as possible before he goes to school in the fall

he ends up about a year behind (bc of language barrier issues) but still graduates high school (a year late) with good grades

it's then that he decides that maybe it's time to return to seoul so, instead of going to university right away, he gets a job and he works hard for a year and a half since his parents supported him in his return to korea and said they would match what he saved as long as he promised to call and visit often

so he moved back to seoul in the fall of 2023 (around chuseok) thinking that that would be a good time to come since everyone would be busy with festivities so he could settle in and wander around the neighbourhood

he gets a decent apartment to himself, his parents helping him with the deposit and he has a little veranda and even a living room despite living on his own

and he picks up guitar lessons now

his mother tongue feels a bit odd in his mouth nowadays, but his (adoptive) parents spoke both languages (his adoptive mother is korean) so he had enough practice though the last 5 years of his life was spent mostly speaking japanese but he's slowly getting used to it again

OKAY IF U READ ALL OF THAT I APPLAUD YOU (claps)

some wanted plots (even tho i'm bad at this and we should brainstorm if you want something Better Than This)

friends! ofc, he's mostly a loner but some general acquaintances would be nice

childhood friends??? maybe people who knew him before/during the Accident and wonder where he had disappeared to and why he had suddenly Reappeared like a ghost LMAO

also friends from japan! he lived in tokyo and lived in the akabane area

he works in a used bookstore in the sinchon area and can be found with his nose in a book most of the time though he Will chat with you if you ask him a question first

he doesn't seem like the type but he's somewhat up to date with kpop songs and will hum them under his breath sometimes while working if a song comes on shuffle

he has a youtube channel where he uploads covers but his face usually isn't in them, usually wearing a hat with a mask or the camera is fully angled away from him so maybe if you hear him singing one day and are Intrigued bc he sounds like a youtuber u know

also i like the idea of one of his audios accidentally going viral on tiktok but he has no idea bc he doesn't use tiktok LMAO

pls brainstorm with me i have no brain juice rn

[bobmckenzie]

Pre Relationship 1, 4, General 3, 6, and Love 8, 9 for Randall!!!!! I NEED more content of this new ship NOW or I might perish :)

♡ @eternally-smitten

OMGGG THANK YOU NATALIE DSKFLKJSDF I'm so happy to share the ideas I have regarding him so far 🥹🥹🩵

How did they first meet? Rachel introduced me to the group after the first experiment! They all agreed the footage Joe took wasn't very good, so she convinced them to at least meet with me since I'm a film student, and we've been friends for so long that she knows I can be trusted. She invited them all over to our apartment, and Nelson basically grilled me for awhile trying to gauge if I would actually do a decent job and be able to keep the secret. Randall and I didn't get much one-on-one interaction, but he liked that I cracked a few jokes and stood my ground with Nelson (albeit a bit shakily lol), and I immediately had a soft spot for him because he was the first to agree with Rachel that I should be included. (...and because he's adorable 🤭)

Who felt romantic feelings first? This is close, but I'm gonna say I did--or at least, I was the first one to let myself feel them. I think Randall is one of those people who probably has a "five-year plan" type of thing, and the thought of romance or a relationship isn't even something he'd be considering until finishing school. I think he'd try to talk himself out of it, even if only for a few days, before accepting that the feelings aren't going anywhere lol

What was their first kiss like? After one of the close calls (either with David's life or Rachel's, I haven't quite decided on the timeline yet lol 😆), I walk with Randall back to his dorm. Outside the housing building he confesses that he's feeling anxious about everything and is scared that we're gonna push it too far, and he's feeling really guilty for being involved with something that could end in someone's death. I try to reassure and comfort him, and I give him a hug--when we pull back, there's a moment of hesitation before we both lean in for a kiss 🥰 We get interrupted by someone leaving the dormitory, and I'm very flustered by the whole thing and leave in a hurry 😅

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? I think since we're both in college and living on/near campus, we don't meet each others' families for awhile. Honestly I haven't thought about the lore too much regarding this but I can see it going one of two ways in regards to his family: they either really like me and are so happy to see him have someone special, or they really dislike me because they think I'm a distraction from his studies/future career 😅 so maybe it's a mixed bag!

Who’s better at comforting the other? This is another one that's close, but I think I'm a liiiiitle bit better at comforting him! He's sort of used to his worries being brushed off, or people not taking him super seriously since he's usually so humorous, so even the fact that I listen to him is something he finds comfort in :)

Who’s more protective? Randall! Especially since he knows I'm not as outspoken as he is. He won't hesitate to stick up for me whenever Nelson or Joe is being a jerk lol. And he always likes walking me home so he knows I got there safe.

[syddsatyrn]

Piece of your Action (Eddiexfemreader)

☆Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

☆Song: Piece of your action by Mötley Crüe

☆Warnings: Fluff, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, bullying, Characters are all 18+

Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 2k

Chapter 2: Looks that Kill (EddiexFemreader)

☆Summary: Moving to Hawkins wasn't easy. What do you even do for fun in this little down? So boring. Until you meet a long haired misfit in front of the video store. Maybe this place isn't so boring after all.

☆Notes: I'm baaaack. Didja miss me? I now present to you my Eddie Munson hyperfixation. I finished Strangers things and I was HOOKED. This is a series so check back for the next chapter.

“Honey, can you grab the boxes for the kitchen?” Julie shouted. Your mother is definitely putting you to work. You groan and grab the first box you see in the truck labeled “Kitchen”. The box made a loud thud as you dropped it on the floor. “Be careful! You’ll break your grandmother’s dishes!” She scolded.

“Whatever…” You scoffed. It’s not like you wanted to move here anyways. Your dad got a new job and your Aunt convinced your mom to move to Hawkins. Which is 6 hours away from your hometown. You grab another box and head back inside.

“If you want to take a break you can.” Julie says while putting away cups and plates. Before you could finish your sentence, you're already out the door with a cigarette in your mouth. “I really wish you’d quit those!” She shouts as you leave.

You take a seat on the curb and inhale the smoke, and exhale the stress. “What even is there to do in this little town?” You wondered. You pick at some of the fraying patches on your jeans absentmindedly. Taking another drag every couple of minutes. “This is totally bogus.” You say under your breath and put the cigarette out on the curb. You might as well go to your room and get situated.

You had already put up a bunch of posters. Iron Maiden, Dead Kennedy’s, Slayer, the Misfits, all your favorite bands. You take off your patched up denim jacket and toss it on the floor haphazardly. The day is almost over, you fall backwards and flop onto your bed to stare at the ceiling. “I hope this town isn't filled to the brim with country bumkin hillbillies.” You think to yourself. The grumbling noise of your stomach is enough to wake you from your thoughts.

“I brought home Chinese!” Bill says as he walks through the door carrying a couple of plastic bags with to-go containers. You spring from your bed and head downstairs, you can already smell it.

“I knew that would get you to come out of your lair.” Dad says with a grin.

“I’m hungry.” You retort and stick your tongue out. “You’re always hungry.” He jokes and bumps your shoulder. After the table was cleared, your mother handed you a plate filled with delicious take out. In a matter of seconds you're wolfing down your food like you haven't eaten in days.

“Slow down!” Your mom says with a slightly disgusted look on her face. After chugging the glass of water on the table, you apologize under your breath. “Soooo….” Julie starts and you're already rolling your eyes. “...I was thinking we could go tour some campuses next week? Maybe start putting in an application or two?” She asks with a smile.

Your parents have been hounding you to get into college. It's only been a year since you graduated high school, why rush? School was always a huge pain. Everyone makes fun of you for the way you dress or they are afraid of you. The bullying got so bad you had to change schools, and how could we forget the time you beat up the schools quarterback in the lunchroom. Somehow, you always manage to have decent grades, you just don't play nice with others.

“Mom, you know I’m taking a break from school.” You remind her before shoving more noodles into your mouth. “We’ve already had this conversation.” You say with your mouth full.

“You know your mother just wants to make sure you get a proper education.” Bill chimes in, attempting to keep this conversation a peaceful one.

“I already told you guys I’m taking a couple years before I dive back into that hell.” You retort and Bill snorts before taking another bite.

“Please don't swear at the dinner table…” Julie sighs with disappointment.

Your eyes roll so far back in your head you swear you could see your brain twitch. Your plate is finished and you stand up abruptly. “Mom, this is the third time this week you’ve brought up college, quit while you're ahead. I'm tired, I'm going to bed.” You say with what your mother calls “a tone”. You rinse your plate, set it in the sink and begin to head back upstairs.

“Y/N we are not done with this conversation…” Mom shouts

“Yes we are.” You shout back and shut your door. Julie and Bill just give each other concerned looks.

Your jeans drop to the floor and you change into some cotton shorts and a worn out Slayer band tee. Then begin digging in your backpack for a tin that used to contain mints. When you find it, you let out a sigh of relief and pop the top open. A pre-rolled joint you’ve been saving is calling your name.

After retrieving the lighter from your jeans, you slide the window open carefully, you don't want your parents to hear. You take a seat on the roof and look up at the night sky. “The stars are brighter here…” You think to yourself. The breeze was cool and the neighborhood was quiet, not a single peep. So you carefully light the joint and take a few heavy puffs.

Here you are, daydreaming again. You lay back and stare at the sky while you enjoy your reward. You were almost finished with the joint when you heard loud music in the distance. It shakes you from your thoughts and you sit up. A dark colored van speeds through your neighborhood blaring some pretty sick metal tunes.

You watch as it drives off, maybe this place isn't completely full of country folk. Suddenly, a few of the neighbors porch lights flicker on, it looks like the van woke a few people up. You quickly put the joint out and crawl back in through your window. What if someone sees you? They would most definitely tell your mom, and she hates when you hang out on the roof.

You turn off your lamp and crawl under the covers. It's time to put this day behind you and get some rest. You fall asleep wondering if you’ll see the van again. One could only hope.

Day Two in Hawkins

You wake up to the sound of knocking on your bedroom door. “Y/N, it’s time to get up! I don't want you wasting the day away in bed.” Julie is always a morning person. You groan and pull the covers over your head. Mom opens the door and greets you with a bright smile. “C’mon, you can't hibernate like a bear in the woods.”

She opened the blinds and the sun came pouring in like a wave. You let out another groan and lift the blanket just enough to see your alarm clock, it reads 12:32 PM. You throw the covers off of you irritably and get dressed. 

You pick out a pair of patched up denim shorts and pair it with another band tee. You slip on your rings and add a chain to your shorts. After you pack up your backpack, you head downstairs to put your boots on.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Mom asks from the kitchen. “I’m going into town to see what kind of ‘attractions’ Hawkins has to offer me.” you answer sarcastically. 

“Stay out of trouble, please!” She calls, but before she knew it, you were already out the door with a skateboard in hand.

You drop the skateboard on the sidewalk and effortlessly push off into the street. The wind in your face is freshening and the concrete is a nice smooth ride. You swore to yourself you’d never skate again after you biffed it on a pothole that sent you flying. “Why do you always ride that dangerous thing!” You mom always asks. You always tell her it's a cheap thrill.

You see a cluster of stores in the distance and as you get closer you realize it’s a video store, a record shop, and a small café lined up next door to each other. You step off your board and pick it up. The signs in the window are advertising a vast horror movie collection, right up your alley.

The bell chimes as you push the door open. The cashiers seem to be arguing about something.

“No, Robin, you're not listening to me.” The male cashier starts to rub his temples.

“I am listening and that movie sucks, I'm not going to sit through “Maximum Overdrive”. Don't you dare play it on the display TV.” The woman scoffs and her coworker sighs.

“Hey.” You said softly and they both gave you a startled look.

“Uh Hey! Welcome to Family Video.” He says, his name tag says “Steve”.

“You guys got horror flicks, right?” You ask with a half smile.

“Yeah! Back corner on your right!” The woman says while pointing to the other side of the store.

“Thanks…uhhh…Robin.” You reply as you look down at her name tag.

“Am I losing my mind or is she new?” Steve leans in and asks Robin. “No, you're right, I've never seen her before.” Robin whispers back.

“I dig her style though.” Steve remarks and Robin sneers. “I bet that girl could eat you alive, Harrington.” She teases, Steve rolls his eyes and returns to his task.

You pick out a few movies, Nightmare on Elm Street, Invaders from Mars, and a movie you haven't seen advertised called “Creepshow”. Satisfied with your choices, you make your way back to the front counter.

“Shhhh here she comes.” Robin whispers and elbows Steve. “Did you find what you're looking for?” She asks and you nod.

You place the videos on the counter and retrieve your wallet inside your backpack. “I’ve never seen you around here before.” Robin asks and Steve looks kind of shocked at how forward she can be.

“I moved here yesterday. I’m just getting to know the place.” You reply as Robin totals up your purchase.

“They are going to have a field day over this one.” The male employee says with a smirk.

Robin turns her head and tells him to shut up under her breath. “That’s 6 dollars even.”

You pay her in exact change and take the videos, placing them in your backpack. “I guess I’ll see you guys around then.” You say with a half smile while making your way to the exit. Robin and Steve are speechless and Robin tries to hold on to her customer service smile. But when the door shuts they bust out laughing.

“You are SO rude!” She shouts.

You place a cigarette between your lips and notice a dark van parked next to the cirb. It looks like the one you heard last night. It's old and has seen some miles, that's for sure. You attempt to light your cigarette but it seems your lighter is finally out of fluid.

“God Dammit…” You swear under your breath.

Suddenly a man outstretches his arm, lighter in hand.

“Need a light?” The mystery man asks. You turn to face him and you're taken aback by his clothes. He looks…well, he looks just like you. Black jeans, Leather jacket, patched denim vest. His long curly hair was gorgeous. Your face flushed as he lit your cigarette. You inhale and manage to say “thank you”. 

“Never seen anyone like you in Hawkins. You must be new.” He remarks.

“That's what everyone keeps telling me.” You say with a quiet giggle.

“So, what's a girl like you doing in a town like this?”

“I’m on vacation, duh.” You say sarcastically and take a drag of your cigarette. The misfit extends his arm and you shake his hand.

“I'm Eddie….Munson. Eddie Munson, at your service.” He grins and you can’t help but submit to his charm, he's pretty cute after all. You shake his hand in return, noticing the chunky, silver, rings on his fingers. 

“Y/N, It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.” You return the smile and put out your cigarette on the curb.

You both lean against the back of his van and chat a bit. You tell him about your mom pressuring you to go to college and how boring this town is.

“So tell me, what do you do for fun around here? Besides speed through neighborhoods blaring loud music at ten o’clock at night.” You tease, all you want to do is make him smile again.

“That was your street? Well, in that case, I’m not sorry.” Eddie says playfully. “I’m glad I got your attention.”

A loud car abruptly interrupted your conversation. A group of teenage boys all wearing letterman jackets in a convertible pull up next to Eddie's van.

“Hey freak! This is for yesterday!” The jock yells and tosses something at Eddie, but suddenly a cold substance smacks you in the mouth. It was a milkshake and it’s now dribbling down your face and shirt. Before you could protest or get revenge, they sped off hysterically laughing like a bunch of dumb hyenas.

“Shit, dude! I am so sorry, that was meant for me.” He says opening the back door to his van. He grabs some napkins he had laying around and hands them to you. As you are wiping off the milkshake bomb, Eddie swipes his finger across your cheek and puts it in his mouth.

“Hmm…It's chocolate this time. Last week was vanilla.” That signature smirk grows back and your face turns several shades of red. 

“Can I give you a ride home?” He asks sweetly and all you can do is nod. 

[mmvalentine]

Lover Like Me pt 14 (epilogue) | Feysand

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

The next year blurs by and I swear I couldn’t even tell you what we filled it with. We just hazed through, the way that you get to the end of summer vacation drunk on long days and the absence of school bells and wonder where the time went.

I can tell you that we moved house, not immediately but eventually, and not very far. Rhys wanted to stay close to the garage, after all. In fact, none of us live in the Velaris blocks anymore, and no, Rhys didn’t buy a house for each of them. His father was wealthy but not that wealthy. He did buy the auto shop though, and start paying an actual living wage once he fired the old manager, and wouldn’t you know it, the guys all started renting decent places once they could afford it.

Mor moved closer to the beach and met a girl at one of Helion’s extravagant parties. Azriel’s got a slick city apartment with a view, and Cassian’s shifted toward the mountains and living his best lumberjack life. They all commute but no one’s complaining.

I often think back on the time we all lived together with great fondness, but I know for the others, painful memories still live there, and we’ve never been back. I don’t mind at all, because I’m home wherever Rhys is.

And Rhys is here, in a house of our very own, and he’s magnificent.

Out from the shadows of his violent father’s past and his dead mother’s house, Rhys is a force to be reckoned with. Business is booming, we go on trips most weekends, and I’ve never heard him laugh so loud. And coming home to him every day is a luxury that simultaneously feels like I’ve been doing it forever, and like I’ll never get used to the thrill of it.

It’s not a giant house, but there’s the loveliest rose and lilac garden out the front, and French doors on the second floor to the balcony that Rhys built. We have a bedroom with a skylight, which he cleans every weekend because he loves to look at the stars. It has a study we converted into an art studio for me, with shelves all along the wall to hold all my supplies. There’s a spare bedroom that is always made up- it was important to both of us our friends could stay with us whenever they wanted or needed to. And it has a garage where Rhys keeps his bike and also a beautiful vintage Bentley that he’s restoring in his spare time.

Rhys runs the shop better than Amarantha ever did, and now that she’s gone the guys actually like going to work. I visit sometimes, bring by boxes of pizza when they work late not because they have to but because they’re enjoying each other’s company. Pepperoni for Azriel, cheese for mor, mushroom for Rhys, and four of whatever there’s four of for Cassian. They wipe black grease off their hands and laugh with their mouths full, and now movie nights happen less frequently but we put a projector in the garage and every month or so we watch on a wall-sized screen.

Sometimes it’s just Rhys who’s stayed back, slumped in the office over the books that were never his favourite part of the job. On those days I feed him Irish tea and chocolate biscuits, and when his blood sugars are revived, we make love on the desk, where I have a perfect view of a certain painting that hangs on the wall and remains my most abstract piece to date.  

As for me, my rent situation may be taken care of, but I will never not have my own bank account again. I’ve earned myself a permanent spot in Tarquin’s gallery by maintaining the highest selling rate of any of his resident artists. It’s not quite enough that I’ve quit my job at the art store, but I’m getting closer. Hey, maybe one day I’ll outgrow Tarquin and open a gallery of my own.

I’m telling you, my life is perfect.

Not because we never fight- amongst the brilliant days there are sad ones, when Rhys is full of trauma and fury and grief, and just because most of the time I know how to bring him back doesn’t mean it always works, or that I always have the energy to do it, or that he always wants me to.

But because he chooses me every damn day, even when I have nightmares about blonde haired men and I kick him in my sleep, even when I have unreasonable expectations that he will read my mind and then get upset that he hasn’t correctly anticipated my needs, and even when he works late and I’ve stayed up painting and we’re both cranky and snappy and rude.

And because I choose him back, just as many times.

And that- I wouldn’t trade that for the world, not for a thousand days of serenity, not for a million dry-eyed nights.

Still, it’s not the fights and the slow, painful healing that I want to replay over and over.

It’s days like today.

When I wake slow in the early morning light with Rhys’s lips on my ankle.

The alarm is set for seven, which is when we wanted to get up and get on the road. Our bags are packed and Rhys’s motorcycle is clean and full of fuel, and there are hours of mountain trails waiting for us to lose ourselves in their alpine embrace.

Yet here is Rhys with a kiss that moves slowly up the side of my calf.

And he’s usually such a stickler for a schedule.

I moan softly without opening my eyes. It’s warm and soft in our bed, and I’ve never been one to rise easy from slumber. Rhys’s tongue hits the corner of my knee, his teeth nip at the inside of my thigh, while the rough of his hands trace the journey his lips have just made. I twitch a little when his mouth lands at the join of my leg and my hip, although my limbs are still so heavy. Then the heat of his breath hits my underwear as he kisses the fabric between my legs, and my back arches up to his touch as if lifted by this string of static that starts in my stomach and ends in the apex of my thighs.

“Good morning, lover,” Rhys whispers, and then his mouth is otherwise occupied.

He pushes my underwear to the side and then it’s the flat of his tongue from pussy to clit. I gasp at the first touch, and then my panties are slid off my legs and I’m kissed on the sharp parts of my hips and the soft parts of my inner thighs and over my bare pussy again. I’m only half-way awake but I’m drowning in something sweeter than sleep as he laps me up and eats me alive. The minutes slide by but Rhys has all the time in the world as he flicks his tongue against me over and over again, winding me slowly round and round his little finger like a spool of thread. It’s not difficult; I’m always his.

His hands slide flat from my hips to my belly to my breasts, and all the while his lips are loving me. His mouth moves slow and dirty and sure. I’m rocking myself onto his tongue, the pleasure is a fog around me, and when he gets my nipples between his fingers, I tip my head back and moan just like he likes.

I could have happily passed the day like this, but my waking dream is cut through my the too-bright ring of my phone alarm.

At first, we ignore it, but of course the stubborn thing rings on and on. I groan in protest when Rhys gets up, but then the silence is restored and Rhys comes back to me and is settling his body over mine. His fingers lace through my fingers, and my hands are swept up and pinned above my head. He’s heavy and hard and as he rolls his hips into me, I’m mollified.

“Sleep well, honey?” Rhys’s voice is husky and low, and I don’t know how he expects me to answer when he’s grinding into me as he speaks. My eyes roll back and my hips lift to meet his, and the dark chuckle that issues from above me is as smug as a Cheshire cat. He kisses me then, sweeping his tongue deep into my mouth to make sure that I can taste myself on him like when he fucks me but finishes in my throat. The memory evoked is so filthy I’m turned on even more, and I start moving up against him looking for friction between my legs.

Rhys obliges me, driving his hips forward and kissing me deeper. I’m fairly sure I could come just from dry-humping this man, but he’s not going to let that happen. I’m rubbing up against his erection and building into a little rhythm that’s getting me where I want to go, and then just when I get to that floating place Rhys shoves his waistband down and pushes inside me.

I’m stretched out faster than expected and Rhys is sliding into me and by the time the tightness eases I’m coming on his cock.

It’s that easy.

And if there’s one enduring thing about us, about our relationship, it’s that it’s easy. It’s so easy and even when it’s difficult and when it sucks it’s easy and that’s why I love him. Or maybe because I love him. I love him so fucking much and I wouldn’t believe that someone so good would love me back except that he tells me all the fucking time and my head has gotten so big with it I wonder how I get in the front door sometimes.

And so here I am, early in the morning with no thoughts in my head and I’m coming hard while Rhys is all the way inside me and then when I’m back in control of my body I fuck him back until he comes, too.

On Sunday night, we’ll get back from our trip and we’ll unpack.

We’ll carry our bags in on tired legs and when I sit down and start unlacing my boots Rhys will look distracted. He’ll start picking through our belongings and I’ll ask him what he’s looking for.

“I’m just looking for… I could have sworn…”

“What, Rhys?” I’ll ask.

“It’s just, it was right here, can you look in your bag?”

“Look for what?” I’ll ask again, even as I start rifling through my backpack, searching for something I don’t know the name of.

“It’s so small, it could have fallen out.”

“Fuck’s sake Rhys, what am I looking for?”

“It’s the black box, you know the one.”

I don’t know the one, and I’ll get annoyed as Rhys continues to be vague while he shoves his hands in the pockets of our discarded leather jackets.

“Would you just look?” Rhys will say, and I’ll start getting mad that he’s sounding frustrated with me when he’s not communicating properly, so when my fingers close around a foreign object I’ll shake it at him.

“Here, is this what you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know, open it.”

I’ll roll my eyes and snap open the little velvet case, and my anger will instantly evaporate because inside will be the most perfect sapphire and diamond ring I’ve ever seen. I’ll be in shock, I’ll look up at Rhys but he’ll be down on one knee with his violet eyes so bright I can hardly stand it.

“Feyre,” he’ll say, and then he’ll swallow because he’s getting choked up. “Feyre from the moment I met you…”

“Yes,” I’ll breathe, and he’ll laugh.

“Feyre, I never thought-”

“Yes,” I’ll interrupt again.

“I didn’t think someone like me-”

“YES,” I’ll yell, and I’ll fall to the floor before him and try to kiss his stupidly gorgeous face, but he won’t let me until he can at least get the question out.

‘Feyrewillyoumarryme?!” he’ll shout, and then he’ll fall backward because I’ve flung myself at him and I’ve covering him with kisses and ‘yes’s.

And then the studio door will burst open and Mor, Cassian and Azriel will be exploding out from their hiding place and dog-piling on to us, and I’ll barely be able to breathe from laughing and crying and being crushed by these goobers, whom I love so very much.

But that will be on Sunday.

Today, we are naked in bed.

And I hope that this is the way he remembers me always, when we’re old and wrinkled and grey. I hope he remembers buckling a helmet under my chin before we get on his motorcycle, I hope he remembers my arms around his waist as we ride. I hope he remembers living in this house, now, with me, before dogs and kids and mess and whatever else he wants in our future. But most of all I hope that he remembers being this deep inside of me while we move, keeping pace with our matching heart beats, with nothing but time and thoughts of being loved, and being a lover.

***

The end, at long last.

My loves. Thank you for being with me in this story, it is the longest one I've written by far (like more than triple the length of The Bargain) and it has been such a joy to hang out with you guys along the way. I really appreciate everyone who read and shared and reblogged!! I will miss you, please dont be strangers ❤️❤️❤️

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @elentiya-whitethorn @rarephloxes @timesconvert @mis-lil-red @alerialumina @lokisllama

[grangerliam]

THE GRANGER FAMILY:

WILLIAM GRANGER SR: Father; 55. Deadbeat. Drunk.

BETHANY GRANGER: Mother. Deceased at 41. Addict.

NICOLETTE GRANGER: Oldest daughter; 33. Surgeon intern.

WILLIAM GRANGER JR: Oldest son; 30. Float about.

VINCENT GRANGER: Middle child; 28. Former Military Brat.

CHRISTOPHER GRANGER: youngest son; 26. Musician.

ALEXANDRA GRANGER: Youngest daughter; 22. Flaky.

AXEL GRANGER: Allie's son; nephew; 6.

KOTA GRANGER: Axel's 2 year old German Shepherd.

THE GRANGER HEADCANNONS:

It's not difficult to tell that all 5 siblings are siblings, as they all sport the sharp jaw, and dark features.

Axel is the only one without the dark features, which says he must look a lot like his father's side; who is not involved in the child's life.

Despite having a family to take care of, Nic managed to get through med school. If for nothing more then to prove to herself and others that she could, but it has been a struggle, and she's not so sure anymore if that is what she wants. But feels stuck, as she's finally making something out of herself, and therefore, keeps to stick to it.

Liam has the same potential to go to college and make something out of himself, instead, he decided against it. This was something that had caused a heated fight between him and his oldest sister. Instead, floating through dead end jobs before becoming a freelance photographer and mechanic.

Vince decided to enroll in the military after he graduated from high school, a choice none of his siblings particularly liked, but others thought was best for him. So that maybe he'd get on the straight and narrow. He had a promising career in the military until he was kicked out for being, well, a Granger.

Chris is a musician, music is his heart.

Allie is the flakest of the Grangers, which is a shame since she is also the only one with a child. She is her parents daughter. She loves her son deeply, and her family, but she has proven to be rather selfish in a lot of her choices.

Axel is a Granger, through and through. He may not look much like them, but he acts like them to a T. And not one of his uncles or aunt won't go to battle over the little spit fire.

Allie bought Kota home for Axel as a gift, which wasn't quite appreciated by Nic, since she is the one who's found herself taking care of it. Eventually, the other Grangers would take over, but he is still known as Axel's dog.

Their father is in and out of the picture nowadays. Allie and Chris have the strongest relationship with Bill, while Nic, Liam, and Vince all avoid him the best they can. Despite being an absolute shit father, he's a pretty decent grandfather.

Nic, Allie, Axel, and Vince all still live in their old family home.

Chris lives with a few roommates from a band he's in.

Liam floats about, having had his own place a time or two. Sometimes he returns home. Right now he has a shitty little apartment.

[andrew--callahan]

[ chad michel murray, cismale, he/him ] — whoa! andrew callahan just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 38 years, working as a/an mafia boss | owner of higher grounds & club 51. that can’t be easy, especially at only 38 years old. some people say they can be a little bit closed off and ruthless, but i know them to be protective and loyal. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to manhattan! — (aj, 34, est, she/they, abuse)

(tw: mafia, death)

BASICS:

full name: Andrew Jacob Callahan

nicknames: Andy, Drew, AJ, Mr. Callahan

age: 38

dob: August 24

hometown: Manhattan, NY

current location: Manhattan, NY

residence: Cedar Wood Lofts

occupation: Mafia Boss | Owner of Higher Grounds & Club 51

gender: Male

sexuality: Straight

relationship status: Single

theme song: Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

face claim: Chad Michael Murray

hair color: Hazel

eye color: Blonde

height:  6′ 0″

weight: 183lbs

build: Athletic

tattoos: The words 'Relax' on his right inner wrist, cross tattoo on his left wrist, his initials on his upper right shoulder.

piercings: None

FAMILY:

Mother: Carolina Richardson, Stephanie Callahan; Step-Mother

Father: Jacob Callahan, Steven Richardson; Step-Father

Siblings: One Brother; Half

Children: Andrew Jacob Callahan the second; Deceased

Pet(s): None

Significant Relationship(s): Elizabeth Porter; Deceased

BIOGRAPHY: (tw: mafia, death)

Andrew Callahan was born to Carolina and Jacob Callahan. But Jacob wasn't exactly the best of mans, he ended up cheating on Carolina a couple of times before filing for divorce when Andrew was just a baby. From there on out, Andrew was raised by a single mother. Couple years later, Jacob had told his mother that he had was having another son. That broke Carolina but she put on a strong front and brave face and continued to raise Andrew. She met Steven when Andrew was seven years old, the two dated for a couple of years before marrying.

In school, Andrew had decent grades but he also played basketball and football as well. Those were his favorite sports and he did amazing in them, actually becoming captain. His mother helped him as much as she could along with his step father. Pushing him to do better than what he had been and he appreciated that. Because it gave him a good sense of hard work. They also did family things together, which he was also thankful for because that gave him a sense of family and to protect them.

During high school, Andrew fell into the jock crowd but he did his best to keep up his grades this way he was able to play the sports that he loved. Plus his step father pushed him to be the best at the sports and was super proud of him. While his mother pushed him to focus on his studies and she was proud of him whenever he would bring the good grades and such. All that pressure did cause him to get into a little bit of trouble. Not a lot just a little bit. But he still graduated among the top five in his class and decided to go to the University of New York after getting accepted and scholarships.

While in college, he did focus on his grades but not that much. But he also got in with the wrong type of crowd. He ended up meeting the head of the Gotti organization when he saved him from a bullet, Andrew had just been in the wrong place but at the right time. The man offered him a job, at first Andrew didn't accept but after some thinking about it, he ended up accepting. Working for the Gotti's from the bottom, he worked his way up to the man's right hand all while he was going to school. He ended up getting a degree in business, but even after he got his degree, it got put on the back burner because he was focused on the mafia and protecting Mr. Gotti.

But he failed, they ended up getting trapped in a warehouse by a rival family, and Mr. Gotti was killed and Andrew had gotten hurt, getting shot in the leg and through his wrist and passed out from the pain and blood loss before help came. When he woke up, he was in a private hospital and being informed that Mr. Gotti had been killed and left everything to him. Andrew had been surprised and shocked but there was an order in the mafia, one that he followed.

Throughout the years, Andrew built up the Gotti name instead of tearing it down, living up to what Mr. Gotti wanted. He opened up a coffee shop and a club to help his illegal business but also make it seem legit business to the public. That was when he met Elizabeth Porter, she was working in a Victoria Secret. The two fell in love quickly and got married, and she got pregnant. During an attack on by his enemies, he lost both Elizabeth and their unborn child. Revenge happened after he located the man in another town, he ended up killing the man responsible but in the fight, Andrew got hurt and passed out from the pain.

A retired doctor found him and patched him up and brought him back to life. Months went by and everyone went thought he was dead. He thought about staying out there but made the decision to go back to New York, surprising everyone. Starting his business back up, now he is more closed off than ever, even though he put on a happy font for everyone. Now he just works and sleeps, wondering what is going to come next.

[bardic-inspo]

15 Questions

Tagged by @vault-heck. Thank you!! 

Tagging back if you want to (no pressure if you’d rather not): @electricshoebox, @some27-url, @persephotea, @wishing4nuclearwinter, @totally-not-deacon, @just-another-wasteland-merc, @alannabix88, @alder-berry, @mercurymiscellany, @thedreamwolf, @seduce-me-with-coffee, and whoever else would like to!

1. Are you named after anyone? Nope.

2. When was the last time you cried? I got a little teary on Saturday when we left home to play D&D at a friend’s house a few hours away. It was the first time we left our kitty cat home alone overnight in our new place and I was feeling a little sensitive about it. He was completely fine and he probably slept most of the time we were gone.

3. Do you have kids? No, but maybe, probably, having one someday.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Me? Never. (Absolutely).

5. What sports do you play/have you played? When I was younger, swimming and cross country running. I don’t run at all anymore, it sort of fucked up my knees. I would love to get back into swimming again sometime in the near future. I semi-frequently do yoga at home, and would like to get into biking again. I’ve almost-nearly bought a bike several times over the past few years, but always found an excuse not to (mostly broken toes and long winters). I also have my scuba certification, if that counts, but the certification process was spread over two years (because of the broken toes) and I don’t feel qualified in the least, if I’m being honest.

6. What's the first thing you notice about other people? Their voice, if I hear them speaking. Otherwise, I guess...just, vibes? A gut reaction of however they make me feel based on what they’re saying/doing and especially how they’re saying/doing it. 

7. Eye color? Hazel, leaning heavily towards green.

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Both is good!

9. Any special talents? I think I’m a decent writer, and a somewhat insightful person/deep thinker. 

10. Where were you born? Midwest U.S.

11. What are your hobbies? Writing, video games, dungeons & dragons, reading (sporadically), dabbling in random artstuffs as the mood takes me, travelling to places I’ve never been, helping my cat live his best life.

12. Do you have any pets? My kitty cat, Leo, is about 8.5 years old (I cannot believe!!). We adopted him from a shelter when he was 5, and that was probably one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I grew up with a goldendoodle named Teddy, and I do love dogs, but I very much do not want to own a dog and owning a cat has reinforced that quite a bit for me, just due to the lifestyle changes/amount of work to take care of them elements.

‘Leo’ was the name my kitty’s prior owners gave him, and we didn’t have another name in mind, so we kept it. If we had ended up with a girl cat, we may have named/re-named her “Neset” and called her “Nessie” for short. Neset was a recurring villain in a D&D campaign I played in, and was also know as “the shadow of Egypt”. She was a monk/rogue multiclass who escaped our party probably five times on the brink of death before we eventually captured her.  I

13. How tall are you? 5′1″

14. Fave subject in school?  In college, I liked political science so much I ended up minoring in it sort of on accident, because I kept defaulting back to those courses while figuring out my actual major. In high school, probably psychology or language/literature.

15. Dream job? Not having to have one?

I think would enjoy being a writer, as a job, if and only if my financial wellbeing didn’t depend on it, and I was writing what I wanted/decided to write. That being said, some sort of story or narrative work. Maybe as an editor, or some sort of concept-person. I also really enjoyed anthropology, poli sci, and research in general in college, and if I wasn’t certain academia would ruin me mentally and financially, I might enjoy that, too. These are all dreams and don’t sound like real jobs one could have with the terms/conditions I’m describing.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Two - False Hopes

He was immediately recognizable; one of the two dudes that were window shopping, in an Adiad tracksuit that seemed way too thin for the middle of winter. He had black hair, a scar running along his forehead, and a fucking gun in his hand.

4k Words | 13 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: guns, assault.

Getting home was an event in itself, Dad taking unnecessary loops through neighborhoods and avoiding main roads as we left Portland in our wake, headed home. Home was Chapman, on a 5 acre lot hidden behind some comfortable, unclaimed woods. The only sign anyone lived at all on this road was our mailbox, bricked in after an accident involving a moped and a wild turkey. Our gravel driveway jerked the truck around, making me drop my phone as I browsed Reddit and causing Brent’s head to smack rather hard against the window he was napping on. “Wakey wakey,” I joked as he groaned, massaging his temple.

He tried to punch my leg in retaliation.

Dad shook his head in the driver’s seat, chuckling to himself as he said, “Alrighty, kids, school night, so I want you both to start headed to bed when we get in there, okay?” 

“Thought we didn’t have to listen to you anymore?” I teased. 

Dad rolled his eyes, meeting mine in the rear view mirror. “You’ve got a month till then, ma’am. And I’m still gonna make you two sleep at a decent time after that. I’ll turn off the Wi-Fi,” he threatened. 

“You monster.” 

Sleep, though, was hard that night. My mind just couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. The brick. The bomb. Was the world really that full of hate? These Conduits couldn’t help what they were. Who they were. Just like people couldn’t control skin tone, or height or something. 

But those protestors…that was hate. Enough hate to get someone charged with destruction of property. Enough for them to not care that there were kids. 

Enough to threaten to kill my Dad. 

Losing him…that was one of my biggest fears. It was hard enough, growing up without Mom there. We had no remaining family; grandparents, uncles, all gone before we were even thoughts in Mom and Dad’s relationship. If we lost Dad, that’d be it. I’d only have Brent. 

The thought terrifies me.

Thankfully, though, he was there as we woke early the next morning, pulling a waffle from our waffle iron when I stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and in the middle of a French braid. “Good morning my dear Jeanie!” He chirped.

“Dad, please. It’s 6 am.” I groaned. “Why are you happy?” 

“Because, my dear. My love. My shining star,” he exaggerated, pirouetting with the plate high above his head and spinning towards me. “I get to see you two off. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

He offered the plate to me. “Sounds terrible,” I teased, taking it. “But if it comes with breakfast every day, then sure.” 

“I knew you only loved me for my cooking.” 

“Dad, you can barely cook.” 

Brent was next in the room, immediately bolting for the coffee pot and starting the brew. That was his job; coffee making. Didn’t know how, but he could make a delicious, albeit strong, cup of joe. Plus I don’t think either of us were going to function today without it; winter exams were in full swing, and being Seniors, they carried so much more weight. Especially with FAFSA looming in the new year, and college applications due just as soon. 

I finished plaiting my braid, letting it fall to my back as I absolutely smothered the food in syrup. Maybe these waffles held the secrets to memorizing pre-cal. Lord knew I needed it. 

Brent plopped beside me with his own stack of waffles, skipping the syrup and just digging straight in like a heathen. “I was also thinking,” Dad paused, pouring more batter into the iron and closing it, “That this will be the first Christmas break I’m off. Ever. I haven’t bought you two presents yet, so what would you say to a vacation?” 

I couldn’t say anything at all. Brent, however, elected to choke on his waffle. 

“Vacation?” I finally worked out, my eagerness barely audible over Brent’s coughs. We haven’t been on vacation since 8th grade, when Dad took us to Disneyland out in Cali. It’s just been too crazy for all of us; Brent was caught up in sports, I had started my art portfolio and gymnastics. Dad began his activism around that time too. 

And after a hellish time like exam season, I was ready for a getaway. 

“Yep!” Dad said, filling a glass with water and passing it to Brent. “Not sure where. But I can do my work from a hotel just as easy as from the den. Figured you two are old enough to tell me where you want to go. I will say,” he opened the waffle iron, “This may count as your birthday gift too — I’ll still get you both something small, sure, but everything would go to a vacay.” 

Oh, that word sounded weird coming out of his mouth. 

Brent, throat now lubricated, asked “But we get to decide?” 

“Sure,” Dad shrugged. “Within reason. Not taking you two to the Red Light District in Amsterdam or anything—“

“Damn, there goes my choice,” I sighed, giggling as Dad rolled his eyes. 

“And keep it local, we wont be able to update your passports in time. But you two talk it out, and tell me before break. I have so many miles from work I can easily book us cheap tickets.” 

That made it so much easier to get to school. 

Brent and I immediately started debating on a place when we entered the courtyard of Linus Pauling High School, finding a tree to shelter under and nurse our coffees. “MOMA? Really?” Brent scoffed. “You want to go to New York to visit an art museum?” 

“Hey, I’ve heard it’s cool!” I threw my empty hand up defensively. “Besides, they’re doing a showcase of all of Delsin Rowe’s tags he left in Seattle.” 

That got his attention. Delsin Rowe, the Conduit’s Abraham Lincoln. The man that stormed Seattle for a week, changed the entire landscape of the world, and then ran off never to be seen again. He was like a real life Batman, freeing people from tyranny and then disappearing into the night. 

I loved his art. Brent loved the story. 

But apparently, not enough to get him to consider NYC. “I can look up the pics for free,” he shrugged, sipping his coffee. “Besides, New York City is the East Coast’s Hollywood.” 

I grimaced at that. Hollywood was a part of our Cali vacation I’d love to forget, and yet be forced to forever remember. 

“Yo, Brent!” 

Our heads turned, looking at the group that was coming close. Tommy, Brent’s best friend, was leading the pack, arm wrapped around Theresa, my bestie. Had to admit, they were a cute couple; I just hoped it would last, because the nuke of their breakup would cause irreversible damage to our friend group. Cat followed close behind her cousin, the dinosaur hat she chose to go with today pulled down close to her skull, shielding her from the cold. Dominic lagged behind, scuffing his boots in the snow, off in another world where you’d always find him running away to. Mei was nowhere to be seen. 

I didn’t miss how Brent deflated a bit beside me at that. 

Nonetheless, Brent recovered, getting up to dap up Tommy, Theresa escaping his grasp and coming to sit beside me, snatching my coffee from my hands and taking a sip. “Wh-, give that back!” I laughed indignantly, swiping for my tumbler that she kept just out of reach. 

“Give me back my black dress then we’ll talk,” she teased, taking another sip. 

I blushed slightly, “Shit, I keep forgetting about that. Why don’t you come over and get it today?” 

Tommy heard, chiming in with, “Aren’t you two grounded still?” 

Brent went on to explain what happened, how Dad benevolently released us from punishment in exchange for being able to keep a close eye on us. 

Explaining why he was working from home, though, was less exciting.

“You sure Lifeline left that behind?” Tommy inquired. “Y’know, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bomb-making Bioterrorist—“

“Tommy, they threw a brick at us,” I interjected before he could continue on with his bullshit. The token Devil's Advocate. Didn’t help his Grandfather was ex-DUP.

Dominic finally entered the stratosphere, repeating, “They threw a brick at you?” 

It was my turn to narrate, explaining the day we had yesterday — minus all the cleaning. How Lifeliners spit at Dad, how they targeted us and didn’t even care we were still kids. Not for long, but still. 

At least Tommy had the sense to look ashamed for being their advocate. 

I finally got my tumbler back from Theresa, throwing back the little bit of coffee she left me and gulping hard. Coming down, my eyes caught flying hands, Cat trying to convey something getting lost in the boy’s banter. 

My ASL was getting better — especially now that Linus Pauling offered sign language as an elective. But Cat, being so proficient, flew with those fingers so fast that I only caught one word: ‘safe.’ “Hey, Tommy, what’s Cat saying?” I asked, breaking up guy time. 

Tommy hummed, turning to his little cousin. Cat was our designated baby, a sophomore we all guarded with our life because of her mutism. She was sweet, full of spirit, eccentric — but entirely silent. Which of course, caught her a bunch of shit with the bullies: caused some arguments from me and Theresa, with some reinforcement punches from Brent and Tommy. 

“Oh, she asked if you guys will be safe? After everything,” Tommy translated, leaning over to whisper, “Remember to go a bit slower, these noobs can’t keep up,” in her ear. 

I shrugged. “We should be? But…after yesterday,” I sighed. “I don’t know.” 

“We will be,” Brent interjected. “Dad knows what to do,” 

The bell rang, signaling for all its little livestock to mosey on to their first stop of slaughter. Meaning, for me, Pre-Cal. 

Yay. 

We all dispersed on promises to catch up at lunch, submitting ourselves to the torture of final exams. I wasn’t made for math. Formulas and number crunching just didn’t compute in my mind, like I was a computer using dial up. I finished my exam early, probably more a sign of my lacking knowledge than utter genius, being excused to the library by Mr. Emerson. 

I found a comfortable corner to hide away in, pulling my sketchbook out of my backpack and opening to my last page; a partially done practice session of drawing realistic looking hands that, honestly, weren’t looking too realistic.

Realism wasn’t my attraction, though. I wanted to be a comic book author. Write my own stories, draw the art. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to expand my arsenal and become well versed in everything I could to grow my portfolio. Realism, abstract — hell, even did a few furry things for Cat. It all had to go towards building the life I wanted. Especially since the art school I wanted to go to, Giverny Institute of the Arts, was very competitive.

That big dream, comic books? Wasn’t gonna be easy, though. Comics died out in popularity after the Empire City Catastrophe, and haven’t really made a solid comeback since. Superheroes that were all the rave back then seemed taboo after The Beast, and were all but discontinued. Nearly every big name franchise went bankrupt save for a comic adaptation of Sherlock Holmes, and Manga — which wasn’t really my deal.

‘Course, there was also rule34, but…no. Just no.

I’d probably have to enter animation or something, which was fine. I could deal with that. It was way more secure than comics, at least. My last semester was predominantly electives, since my summer classes put me ahead of schedule, and I planned on taking every Rendering and Animation class Giverny sponsored through the school district. Maybe one day, I’d be one of the lucky ones. The type of person to beat all odds and achieve my dreams, to have a rather lucrative career as a comic artist. Maybe.

But for now, I’d have to hock away at these stupid hands. Why are hands always so hard?

I wasn’t alone for long, though, the familiar thump of heeled boots announcing another friend. “Hey Jean,” Mei greeted. 

“Hey, didn’t see you this morning,” I looked up, sheepishly closing my sketchbook. Just ‘cause I wanted to be an artist didn’t mean I wanted anyone to see the work when it was still under construction.

Mei shrugged off her messenger bag, setting it on the floor and plopping beside me. “I was studying. Was going to in a minute, too. Just wanted to stop and say hi.” 

“So then why did you sit down?”

“Cause I’m tired of studying.” Mei reached into her backpack, pulling out a ziplock bag. “Rice cake?” 

I’ll always say yes to food. 

Taking a bite out of the rice cake, I said, “Hey, by the way, thanks for talking to Dad. He ungrounded us and it’s all thanks to you, Mei-flower.” 

Mei grimaced, “Oh god, I hate that you heard Sobo call me that. But, you’re welcome. It was good practice for my Debate exam, too.” 

“Had nothing to do with him still wanting to rat you guys out?” 

“Only partially,” 

I laughed, taking another bite and exercising my bad manners by speaking with my mouth full. “Y’know, now that we’re ungrounded, maybe you and Brent could quit with the gross puppy eyes and go on a date. He’s free for the rest of the month. Rest of his life, if you’re willing.” 

Mei rolled her eyes, muttering, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But there was no lying with her face that red. 

“Oh please, if I have to sit through one more muttering mess of a convo—“

“Stop.” Mei giggled, accepting defeat. Sighing, she became crestfallen. “Besides, I don’t know if Brent is all that into me.” 

“You’re kidding, right? Smooth talking, bad boy Brent that can’t even talk without st-st-stuttering around you?” I scoffed. 

“You don’t know for sure if he likes me,”

“You’re saying you know him better than his twin?” She didn’t retort. “Just — give it a chance. Maybe winter formal? Since we can go to that now,” 

That struck something in Mei. She wandered away in her mind, nibbling on her rice cake absentmindedly. “Hmm. Maybe. But that’s, what, this Friday? Would he be ready for a dance by then? He said he wasn’t going,” 

“Please,” I shook my head, smiling. “You ask him out, he’s gonna demand we go to the mall today.” 

“Hey so, Dad,” Brent started from the backseat of the truck after losing a round of rock-paper-scissors for shotgun. “You think we can go to the mall?” 

Looking in his rear view mirror and waiting for a car to pass before he backed out, Dad cocked his head slightly. “The mall? Why—“ 

“Oh my God, did she ask you?” I interrupted, spinning to look at him. God, he was so pink. 

No will to pretend, he simply asked, “You knew?” 

“Pfft — knew? I told her to.” 

“May I please be clued in, dear children?” Dad interjected. “Especially if it demands my money.” 

“Mei asked Brent to the formal,” I spurted, ignoring Brent’s protests behind me. “About time too, hopefully you two will stop being so weird around each other.” 

Dad now spun in place to look back at Brent. “Did she, son?” Brent nodded. “Well,” Dad shrugged, putting the truck in reverse, “You’ll need a suit, then,” 

“Oh, can I have Theresa come hang out?” I begged Dad. 

Brent, finally deciding to buckle in, added, “Tommy too? I wanted to get his opinion on outfits.”

Dad pulled forward, joining the terribly long queue out of the parking lot. “My God, do you guys not want to hang out with me? I’m cool. Hip, groovy, based or whatever the kids say—“

“Dad, literally no one says that,” I laughed. 

But Dad, not one to miss my lack of denial, whined, “You don’t! I’m just chauffeur for you guys, aren’t I?” 

“Don’t forget bank.” Brent joked.

“Hey, you want that new suit or not?” But sighing, Dad relented. “Fine. Invite them. I needed to get some new stuff since I’m working from home now, anyways.” 

We were on our phones texting before he finished the sentence. 

Unfortunately, that meant a 45 minute ride into the city — which easily turned into an hour and some change, with rush hour traffic. Wasn’t too bad, though; it was fun being able to see Dad immediately after school instead of waiting for him to stumble home from the office at, like, 9 PM. It did mean we were subjected to his playlist — and worse, his singing. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t that bad a singer, but if I told him that, he’d sing more often. And he always got way too into it. 

We were finishing up a hilarious and passionate rendition of ‘Dear Maria, Count Me In’ when we pulled into the mall parking lot. “Alright, I’m going to Office Depot. You guys message me when you’re done. And Brent?”

“Yeah?”

“Send me pics. I’m the one that has to wear those monkey suits for work every day,” Dad pulled his phone out of his back pocket, along with his wallet. “I’m gonna send you $150 — suits can be so expensive. Jeanie, do me a favor and take this,” he continued, yanking a crumpled $50 out of his wallet. “Hate carrying cash.”

 Well I loved it, especially if it was free.

We separated, Dad going off to buy office supplies while Brent and I headed for the food court. “What about Miami?” Brent randomly asked. 

I snorted. “What, the coke capital of America? Dad would not take us there,” 

“I just really want to have a summer Christmas,” Brent sighed. “White Christmas’ get old.” 

Like a lightbulb, an idea popped up in my head. “Do you think Dad would do Hawaii?” 

“Hawaii?” Brent thought about it, a smile growing wide on his face with every second that passed. “That would be so cool.”

“Right?” I spun to face him, walking backwards. “Sandy beaches, good weather,”

“Probably a couple good trails,” Brent added. “I could try surfing again,”

“Volcanoes! That’d be awesome!” 

He nodded. Hawaii. The best Christmas present. “We’ll talk to Dad about it, yeah. I like that idea.” 

And knowing Dad, he would say yes. Man loved the beach. 

We met up with Theresa and Tommy, managing to pull the two lovebirds apart for a while to go our separate ways. Theresa was quickly informed of our Christmas gift, the possibility of spending it in the ocean breeze, and immediately insisted we try to find a good few dresses for it — which I’d be down for, if it wasn’t the middle of December. 

But goddamn, if the woman wasn’t a magician. Swear her New Marais roots came with some voodoo magic. She pulled me into a Booker’s, finding a sundress in their clearance rack that I immediately fell in love with; it was peach, with white flowers, an asymmetrical skirt flowing down to my ankles. 

Or it would, if I put it on. But it was 32 degrees and I liked being warm. Couldn’t help but imagine how beautiful it’d look though. 

“So, do you want it?” She asked, curls bouncing in excitement. “I swear if you don’t get it I will,” 

I laughed, “Yeah, I’ll get it, jeez.” 

Post-register, Theresa dragged me from the Booker’s to a hair care stall, talking to the vendor about their options for moisturizing dreads overnight since she was thinking about getting them back in. I scuffed my shoe and looked around a bit before breaking in boredom, telling her I’d be back after grabbing a snack. They had a Cinnabon in here somewhere, I know they did. I could smell ‘em. 

Like a leopard on the hunt, I followed my nose, the prize surprisingly far from where I left Theresa. Either the batch was fresh, its aroma floating freely through the near-abandoned mall, or I was a fatass. It was more than likely the latter, though. It’s a wonder how I stayed a decent weight, to be honest. 

The mall was huge, two stories and multiple wings — meaning they also had more than one food court. At least, they had a few pseudo ones, a stall selling pretzels or those little ice cream dots right next to a specialty food store. Like the Cinnabon I was after. I ordered my own treat and drink, with enough cash left over from Theresa’s deal hunting to get her her own stuff, messaging her to meet me at the seating by the stall in the mall’s walkway so we could chow down. 

‘K, almost done’ she messaged back. 

So that meant I probably had 15 minutes. 

I shed my jacket and hung it on my chair, hopping on my phone to watch some videos as I waited. I loved Theresa, but her perception of time absolutely sucked; the only reason she got here at a decent time was because Tommy drove. She had a chronic issue with being fashionably late, which meant I was often left to my own devices. 

So I was well versed in passing time on my own, watching some VClipz of people’s realistic speed drawings and hoping that I’d absorb their talent through some wild form of osmosis. I’d glance up on occasion, looking around for Theresa and hoping that maybe this’d be one of those times she actually was timely accurate — but no dice. It was just me, the Cinnabon worker, and these two dudes in all black tracksuits sort of meandering about, taking window-shopping very seriously by not stepping into a single store. 

15 minutes had already passed with no signs of Theresa, and I sighed, opening my Cinnabon. No use in letting it get cold. I ate away absentmindedly, watching more VClipz and biting on the food, moving to pick up my drink and take a gulp. 

And of course, in my reasonably clumsy ways, I managed to set my drink down on the stack of napkins, it immediately keeling over and spilling onto my lap. 

“Son of a—“ I groaned, scooping up my phone before the soda could soak it. Of course I’d spill food on myself. Could never eat without making a mess. The Cinnabon worker, an absolute saint, rushed over with her mop, a spray bottle in the other hand and a dish rag over her shoulder. “I can clean this, why don’t you go clean off? I can watch your things.” 

“You sure? I don’t want to be a bother—“ 

“It’s fine,” she assured me. “If you go around this corner, there’s a restroom along this wall,” she said, pointing past the Cinnabon and to the junction of the next breezeway. 

I thanked her, waddling my cold crotch to the bathroom and trying my best to sop up the mess with paper towels. That did nothing for the stickiness, though, and I absolutely hated being sticky. Did I have enough money left to maybe get some new pants? I pulled out my wallet, partially to count my cash and also to make sure my stuff was salvaged from my Diet Coke when the door to the women's restroom opened. 

And in walked a man. 

He was immediately recognizable; one of the two dudes that were window shopping, in an Adiad tracksuit that seemed way too thin for the middle of winter. He had black hair, a scar running along his forehead, and a fucking gun in his hand. 

I spun around, dropping my wallet on the ground and lifting my hands to show there was nothing. All I had, every bit of the $17 and some change left over, was scattered across the tile of the restroom, a quarter running away from the confrontation. “Please,” I begged, my blood running ice cold as he raised the hand with the gun. This was it. I was going to die over $17 fucking dollars. 

But instead, he swung the gun at me, the butt of it slamming against the top of my head and making my vision swim. 

I stumbled into the sink counter, slamming my lower back against it. The pain in my spine joined the pain in my head as both throbbed, forcing me to brace myself against the counter so I didn’t collapse on the spot. 

And I admit it; I began crying. Why wouldn’t I? There was a random guy in here beating me with a fucking gun. He raised his hand again, swinging the gun down to hit me in my head once more.

And this time, my vision faded out.

[kokakku]

OC: Henry Miller

Henry Miller

47

6'

He/him

Bisexual, cisgender

Cancer (Jul 14)

Face claim: Andrew Lincoln

Father: Thomas Stewart Sr (deceased)

Mother: Cheryl Stewart-Smith

Siblings: Thomas Stewart Jr (56), Vivian Howard (53), Catherine Lewis (53)

Wife: Alice Miller (deceased)

Child: Britney “Brit” Miller

Pets (because they’re important): orange tabby named Crush (like orange crush, named by a 12 year old Brit)

Jobs/ hobbies: author, serial killer, former 8th grade English teacher, sometimes lectures at universities

Notable conditions: autism (undiagnosed), CPTSD, depression, anxiety, slight limp from a damaged muscle in his left leg

As the youngest child in a very poor family of six, Henry was often forgotten and neglected by his parents and bullied by his older siblings. When his parents did turn their attentions to him, they were rarely loving. Thomas was a violent drunk, and Cheryl self absorbed and equally abusive. Henry was an accidental pregnancy and he was never allowed to forget that, on top of that he was “strange” (autistic) and very quiet, not speaking until three and remaining soft spoken his whole life.

School was no escape for him, he was viciously bullied for his odd and bookish nature, made only more violent when he was outed as bisexual at 12. It was also around 12 that Henry began to feel violent urges to hurt or kill himself or others, terrified but with nobody to tell, he attempted for the next few years to state these urges by taking them out on himself, the trees in the forest around his town, and the occasional wild or livestock animal (though hurting the annals upset him greatly, it was all that worked.)

It was at age 17 he first killed a person, his history teacher, who had been grooming and abusing him for months. A terrified Henry did everything he could to make sure the (now in pieces) body wouldn’t be found, luckily, the residents of the town simply figured the unpopular And widely disliked man had ditched town to avoid debt. Henry knew he would never be able to go back to killing rabbits and birds. Three months after his high school graduation, Henry shot his father in the head and skipped town. No family members would hear from him again for over a decade. Henry was able to get fake documents under the new name Henry Miller, and never looked back. In his and everyone elses mind, Henry Stewart was dead.

He was able to build a decent life for himself, he went to college and got his English degree, started a career as a teacher, and began to write the first of many crime thrillers. All the while, when the urges rose, he would kill. It was through his violent hobby that he met his future wife: Alice Green, who later would often joke that she was his “final girl.” With her he would have his one and only daughter, Britney, at 25.

Something about this new and happy life with Alice and Brit made his urges to kill subside almost entirely, until they were hardly there at all. For the first, and maybe only, time in his life he was truly happy and content. When Alice died in a crash when he was 32 and brit was 7, his world shattered, the love of his life was gone and is beloved daughter was traumatized and broken by the loss of her mother. He quit his job at the school to focus full time on Brit and helping her, and himself, learn how to move on without Alice. His books were sellling, they had Alices life insurance, money was no urgent issue, Brit was all he had, and he had to make sure she was okay. But within the year, the urges to hurt and kill came back full force, and to his devastation, Brit now had them too.

He tried as long as he could to resist his urges, returning to his teenage practice of hunting animals and introducing Brit to it as well, but eventually he snapped and brutalized a man who had been making pedophilic remarks in a pub, a man he recognized as the father of an abused former student. He and Brit were gone long before the body was found.

For years, they never stayed anywhere long, never able to put down roots or make a stable life for themselves. they relied on the selling of his books and occasional lectures at schools to get by. When Britney took her first human life at 10, he was devastated and guilty, feeling it as his fault his beloved little girl was now a monster like him. But he quickly helped her dispose of the remains and gave her a long talk on what this life would be like.

Six years later he found a home that they would be able to stay in, in a town off a highway, it was a place where Brit could finish school and make real friends, and where there was a constant flow of prey for him and Brit when urges became strong.

Despite his killer nature, Henry is a very shy man. Always preferring books and plants, he doesn’t have much of a social life. Though he’s polite and kind to all he meets, and the few friends he does have regard him as very kind and gentle. He’s also a big animal lover despite his track record with them in times of desperate suppression, his cat is very spoiled. His daughter Britney is his whole world, and he would do anything to keep her safe, happy, and healthy. When Brit moved away a few towns over for college, Henry was a nervous wreck, but with reassurance from her, her friends, and his own few friends, and of course hi faith in her ability to stay safe, he relented. (As long as she visits and calls often, of course)

[commonlawstantz]

Answering these as an exercise for myself and an opportunity to share more about Dustin!

1. How does he react in a crisis? Calm on the outside, panicking on the inside. For the most part, he's gotten pretty good at keeping himself together for the sake of other people while freaking the hell out in secret.

2. Is he a loner or a people person? Both! He's good with people and likes to spend time with his friends, but he's also content to be on his own, especially as he gets older.

3. What's his financial status? How has that changed through his life? Growing up, his family didn't have much money. Lots of mouths to feed and not much money coming in. When he moved to the city, he struggled for a long time. After joining the Ghostbusters, his situation became slightly more stable, but especially so once he moved in with Ray. From there, he maintained a comfortable lifestyle, always having a decent source of income and never spending much beyond necessities.

4. Any exes or former friends he still thinks about? Not in his younger years, but after the Ghostbusters fell apart and both he and Egon left, he never stopped thinking about any of them. Even after getting closure over Egon's death, he still holds a lot of regrets.

5. Any signature weapon? The proton pack, I suppose, or his fists.

6. Any magic? No, I don't think magic even really exists in this universe.

7. How does he like his hair? Natural and short.

8. Most embarrassing moment? He once tried to physically fight a ghost. Once the concussion cleared up, the guys (cough cough pete cough cough) would not let him forget about it.

9. Laid back or dramatic? What's his role in a group? Generally, laid back, and he plays the part of reason, but he is going to gossip about what's going on with Janine later.

10. Is he sentimental? (stares at his multiple cassette collection all about Ray)

11. Does he believe in the fantastical? Ghosts are an obvious yes, and other monsters and creatures are a maybe. He's not as sold on God.

11b. What's at his core? Family, friends, and taking no shit.

12. What's his outlook on life? He hopes for the best, but is ultimately a realist. He knows and accepts that sometimes things just suck.

13. What's his view on romance and intimacy? In his younger years he had a lot of flings and and casual relationships, but once he really got to know Ray, he knew that was it for him. He isn't sold on the concept of soulmates, but if they're real, he's certain his is Ray.

14. How important to him is friendship? Does he prefer lots of friends or just a few? Mixing together some previous answers for this one. Friends are very important to him, but definitely with quality over quantity. He's happy to have lots of friends or few friends, the big thing is that someone is going to have his back and he's going to have theirs.

15. Important places? His childhood home, the bookstore/the apartment, and the firehouse. His childhood home is a place of comfort for him, although there is a building on the property that he refuses to go near. The bookstore and apartment are also places of comfort and deep familiarity. He could easily navigate it without sight. The firehouse holds mixed feelings for him now, due to the last time he was there, but before that it was another place where he felt secure in his life.

16. What does he do for work? Of course he has his job with the Ghostbusters, and he's spent a lot of his life as a mechanic, but he's also worked in the bookstore on occasion and spent a few years managing the family ranch.

17. Any enemies? Other than the obvious, such as ghosts and Walter Peck, not really. Maybe at some point in high school, but that stopped mattering when he moved to the city.

18. Is he the subject of any prophecies? No. Although you could argue that he's escaped fate, given that both the animated canon and comic canon versions of him are dead.

19. Any paranormal encounters? lol

20. Has he ever lied about something horrible? No. He has lied, of course, but never about something that mattered.

That's all of them! I may do another one of these soon.

[thoughts-onmars]

Occcct

he he he

Hi Mars,

We are typing this over because I thought I had saved a draft but then I went to retrieve it and it was gone. Those thoughts have passed now so I won't rewrite the whole 2 paragraphs but I will say that I miss my family and my old mornings where I used to take Alice to school and we would have a donut and coffee/hot chocolate date. I was looking forward to the day I would take both babies but things change, they moved and then I moved.

I know things have to change to make room for new memories and experiences but why are we having these great moments only to look back, reflect, and feel sadness. :( A sacrifice of getting older, moving away and starting your own life.

Sometimes I still feel like a little kid and I don't know why I have to live like this. I thought that I would stay local. I loved living where I was, the problem was that my habits were bad and I was tired of seeing people from high school too close around me. That couldn't be helped I guess because I work(ed) in a place a lot of people come to and it can't be helped.

My job isn't horrible. It just isn't fulfilling. What is fulfilling?

Writing a post like this on tumblr brings me way way way back to almost even 8th grade. 2008. Crazy!!! If i think back and see where my passion could be, maybe it would be in writing. I enjoy writing my feelings and thoughts out. I also enjoyed recording videos and editing them. Now it's a real career and I am still pretty youthful to venture into it but sometimes I feel like I am too late.

Anyway its 6:09 in the morning and I am about to call off in a bit to enjoy a nice 4 mile run and then maybe hit up a coffee shop.

October has just started. Today is only day 4. This month I have some minor goals:

Sober October

Run at least 2x a week

Gym 3x

Make more homecooked meals

I am really struggling with making meals. In a non food disorder way, I wish I could go on without having to eat and it is a shame that I say that because you would never hear me say something like that 2 years ago when I lived with my parents because my moms love language was food and cooking. I would say that I am actually a pretty decent cook. I remember when JP and I first started dating and I would go to his apartment in Indy and try and cook for him. I remember specifically trying to make some meatballs that I loved and I did not get them right.

BUT MEATBALLS?? Lol, yo gurl is Mexican and I was out here trying to make him some meatballs. That was like in 2015 and now in 2023 after being humbled by the meatballs, I watched my mom cook throughout those years and I learned a lot about the way she makes things and now I am pretty decent. I am a lazy girl though and was spoiled my whole life having meals ready for me every hour of the day.

I really have so many thoughts but as I keep this up (hopefully) maybe I can make this blog more attractive for myself so that I enjoy coming back to it like I used to. It just feels different on a laptop than on my phone in a really good way. Maybe I will start just taking my laptop to the coffee shop and typing my blogs out like this instead of writing.

Actually, I will probably still have to keep up with writing just to keep my handwriting in check

okay luverssssss

deucessss ~~~~~

[redpandaramblings]

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 6

Part 1 Here

Next part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

Before Bakugou could reply, the jeweler came back into the room and handed Denki a piece of paper.

“All right sir, here is your receipt! Your ring should be ready in three days.”

“Thanks.” Denki shoved the receipt into his pocket, quickly making his way to the door. “See you around Bakubro. Don't want to be late for my shift.” The door closed behind him with a bang.

Bakugou wasn’t annoyed though. Now he could pick out the perfect ring for Y/N and not worry about Kaminari being nearby. Everyone knows Kami can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep all of this a secret.” Denki moaned into his hands. He was sitting with his head buried in his arms. Y/N reached across the table and gently petted his hair.

“I know what you mean, but I don’t think either of us are in a good position to start telling people.”

Y/n and Denki sat in a secluded corner of a dimly lit cafe. Both of them had this time free and both of them definitely needed to talk. They stood a lot less chance of anyone asking questions if they were just two friends getting lunch instead of them privately going to each other’s apartments.

Denki looked up, giving Y/N a wide eyed expression. “I know, but I wasn’t expecting Bakugou to show up when I was dropping off that abomination of a ring! I just was lucky the jeweler had already taken it to the back. You were right by the way, that thing is absolutely horrendous. Like, was the designer blind?”

Y/N snorted. “From what I’ve heard, great great grandpappy had a lot more money than brains and wanted to impress his omega by shoving as many stones onto a ring as possible.”

“No kidding. I think it can be seen from space.”

“Very likely.” Y/N chuckled before slumping back into her seat with a sigh. “Though I might have an idea about what Bakugou was doing there.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Y/N nodded with a sigh. “Yeah. When I got back he invited me to the summer festival. I’d forgotten about it.”

“Ah shit, yeah. Isn’t that your guys' anniversary?”

“Yep.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Of course he had to pick this time to actually celebrate. We haven’t gone or done anything… God, I think since he became a hero.”

“So you think he was getting a gift.” Denki sat back as the server came, placing your orders in front of each of you. You both murmured your thank yous and waited until the server was out of earshot before resuming your conversation.

“Yeah, he had to have been. Makes me feel terrible, but there wasn’t a good time to… Well…”

Y/n gestured between herself and Denki.

“Tell him that you’ve been betrothed to an omega of much superior looks, breeding, and manners?”

You gave Denki a little kick under the table as he cackled. He grinned cheekily as he poked at his food. “Sorry. Humor is my coping mechanism. I get it though. Timing sucks all the way around.”

You nodded, sighing and taking a bite of your own food. “Can’t say anything during his heat. Then his schedule was swamped, and I had to sort things out with you. Then bam, anniversary that for some reason he decided to remember this year.”

Denki snorted, popping a bite into his mouth. “That’s about the long and the short of it. And we haven’t even begun to figure out how to tell everyone we’ve not only accepted arranged betrothals, but that we’re engaged to each other.”

“I don’t know, I was kind of hoping we could just move to Tahiti and never speak to our former friend groups ever again?”

“A valid possibility. But that means we’d have to learn French and maybe Tahitian. You know I only passed English because Hitoshi and his dad coached me.”

“Fair point.” You sighed heavily. “But I’m really not looking forward to these conversations.”

“They have to happen though. You might have some anonymity to hide behind, but I’d rather my friends not find out about our engagement when they see an article about Chargebolt getting married.”

“Really?” You smirked slightly. “Then you’re going to tell everyone at your agency, hmm?”

Denki kicked you under the table. “Shut up!”

You poked at your food again as the smile fell from your lips. “So… Did you get a chance to think about what I sent you?”

Kaminari nodded. “Yeah. And I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“I thought about it a lot. I hate to leave the area, but it would be too awkward to stay here after everything.”

A few days ago you had sent Denki an email with a list of places that had job openings that would suit both of you. You both loved where you lived, but after everything, how could you stay? There’s no way the two of you could continue to keep living in the same apartment building as Bakugou. That would be cruel. Cruel to whom you didn’t quite want to think about. You spoke up again.

“Any place catch your eye?”

Kaminari nodded. “I was kind of thinking Okinawa. I have a few connections there. Decent distance from here and from our parents. And that would probably be the easiest transition.”

“Works for me.” You said, as if it wasn’t ripping your heart out to do this. It hurt. But it had to happen. In the end, you had to believe this was what was best for everyone. It might take some time, but this was it. This was what would make everyone happy in the long run.

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

Shinsou was worried. Denki had been acting odd. And that’s saying something. The blond omega was usually loud and bubbly, the life of the agency. At least once a week, he invited Shinsou out for drinks, meals, clubs, karaoke, or some other nonsense. But ever since he’d gotten back from his three day leave, Kaminari had been acting strange. When he thought no one was looking, he was quiet. Withdrawn. Like he was puzzling out the toughest problem of his life.

Denki having a problem? Pretty typical. Denki having a problem and not talking to Shinsou about it? Pretty unusual. The blond had always come to the purple haired alpha with even the simplest of problems. Apartment searches, furniture assembly, what support items would suit his quirk best, even things like what to get from Starbucks. And even though he might groan and roll his eyes, secretly Hitoshi loved every second of it. When he had helped by digging through websites, cobbling together a rickety shelf, or reminding Denki that he always got the most cloyingly sweet items on the menu; Hitoshi got to pretend that he was Denki’s alpha.

Shinsou wasn’t sure exactly when he had fallen in love with Denki. Probably had been since high school at least. His dad had warned him against loud blonds while his father had laughed. But he couldn’t help it. Kaminari had been one of the first people to enthusiastically believe in him. Had always sought him out and wormed his way into Shinsou’s life and heart. And now Shinsou couldn’t understand it, but Denki was pulling away. Even as he watched the blond who was typing up a report on his computer, it somehow felt like Kaminari was slipping right through his fingers.

Shinsou cleared his throat. Kaminari glanced up. “Yeah man? What’s up?”

“You doing okay, Denks? You’ve seemed a little out of it.”

Denki met his eyes, startled, then quickly glanced away. “Yeah. Yep! Totally fine.”

“Denki. I know you.”

Kaminari sighed and slumped on his desk. “Just some life stuff. Family stuff. Friend stuff.”

Shinsou frowned, walking over to place a hand on Denki’s shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Denki snorted and laughed quietly. Shinsou furrowed his brows.

“Yeah” Denki sighed. “I know. But half of it isn’t really my stuff to tell and the other half isn’t exactly worth talking about.”

“You sure? We could go grab one of your obnoxiously sweet coffees after work. Go to mine or yours, watch an old crappy horror.”

“Tempting. Thanks man. I would, really, but I got some stuff I have to do after work. Some other time maybe.”

Shinsou frowned. It was rare for the omega to turn down an invitation for a movie night. Hell, it was rare for Denki to turn down an invitation, end stop. It made him even more worried about his omega… friend. His omega friend. His friend who just so happens to be an omega. Hitoshi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to ruin the best friendship he had. But he couldn’t keep this up much longer. His alpha had decided on the electric blond long ago, and the omega’s unusual behavior and unhappy scent was driving him wild with the need to protect. He really needed to pull himself together and confess soon.

“Well, whenever you’re free then,” Shinsou said, reluctantly letting his hand fall from Denki’s shoulder. “You know my number.”

Denki nodded and looked up, giving him half a smile. “I do. Thanks Shinsou.”

Shinsou walked back to his desk, his mind made up. He needed to tell his omega how he felt, and soon.

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

Y/N twisted and turned, looking at herself in the mirror. It had been a very long time since she’d worn a yukata. It didn’t feel right to dress up like this. But wearing anything else also felt wrong. Everything about this date felt wrong. Like this was the kind of she she did in another life. And now here she was, going on a date with the man she loved. Who she’d always love. And who she’d already decided she was going to let go.

Y/N snorted and fussed with her hair a bit. Maybe she should have just refused this date. Claimed to be sick or something. But that felt wrong too. So, she just had to get through tonight. After all, what’s one more night of pretending everything is fine? Hopefully this could be a good memory from a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be. After tonight, she’d wait a couple days and then talk to Bakugou and let him go like he clearly wanted.

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

Katsuki was going to throw up.

He was going to throw up, right here, all over himself and all over shitty hair, too. His red headed friend was giving him a pep talk as he helped Bakugou into his jinbei. Not that Bakugou needed the help. Or the pep talk. It just was easier to let the squad come over when they had found out about his date. It’s not like he wanted them there or anything. Once Kiri, Mina, and Sero realized he was going to use this date to ask Y/N to be his mate, they had insisted on helping him get ready.

None of them knew about the little velvet box in his pocket and that his plans went further than just asking Y/N to be his mate. Bakugou bit his lip to keep from frowning as he looked over his friends, a certain loud blond conspicuously missing. You wouldn’t hear Katsuki admit it out loud, but he really wished Denki could have been here. He loved the others, and they were great in their own ways. But Denki was his pack’s other omega. He got it in a way that the others didn’t. After tonight, he’d have to make sure to catch Pikachu up on all the news. Hell, maybe he could help his fellow blond finally talk to that purple haired idiot he’d been mooning over for years. Everyone in the pack knew Denki’s family had been harping at him to settle down for quite a while.

Bakugou looked up in time to see Mina coming at him with the hair grease. He threw up his hands.

“Fuck no! Keep that shit away from me!”

“You’ve got to do something about that pile of straw you call a haircut. Besides, Wouldn’t it be nostalgic? Weren’t you interning for Best Jeanist again when you asked Y/N out the first time?”

“Yes, and I’d rather shave myself bald than ever have my hair like that again!”

Mina sighed. “Fine. We’ll do something else. But if I can’t slick it back, you will be wearing eyeliner!”

“IN YOUR DREAMS, PINKY!”

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

You waited outside the entrance to the festival. It was strangely soothing to watch the people flow by, like you were a rock overlooking a stream. There were groups of friends, couples both young and old, families where the laughing children ran ahead of their parents eager to get inside. You gave a small smile at the last. Maybe that could be you someday, a parent getting to see a festival through the eyes of a child again. Though the mental picture was hazier than it used to be. The children you half imagined just blurs of colorful yukatas, instead of loud and stubborn blond haired brats with their father’s eyes and attitude. You huffed a quiet laugh to yourself as a thought occurred to you. If you and Kaminari actually went through with this plan, decent chance the kids would still be blond. The thought hurt a little.

“Y/N!”

You looked up and had the breath knocked out of your lungs.

Katsuki was beautiful. You knew it. Thought it often, even. But tonight he practically glowed. His hair had been tamed into a softer look than usual. The jinbei he wore was the perfect compliment to his skintone. Was that… Yes. Dark eyeliner made his crimson eyes pop. Your heart ached. You’d always love this man. No matter how it tore you apart, he’d always own part of your heart and soul. You smiled weakly and raised your hand in greeting.

“Hey. You look good.”

“Thanks.” Bakugou scratched the back of his head. “Mina got ahold of me.”

“That explains it then.”

“Hey!” Katsuki gently elbowed you in the side before taking his place next to you. “You saying I can’t dress up on my own?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N!” You dodged out of the way as he swatted at you, laughing. Yes. This could be it. One last good night.

“Shall we go in?” You asked, holding out your hand.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Katsuki asked as he walked past you, ignoring your hand.

You gave a quiet smile as you followed.

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

Katsuki picked at his food, none of it making it to his mouth. He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick right here and some paparazzi was going to see and take a picture and the big headline tomorrow was going to be “A Puke Worthy Proposal.” He was trying his best to keep up the illusion that everything was fine and normal, but it was rough. It had been a long time since he’d taken his alpha on even a normal date. And this wasn’t any normal date. It didn’t help that things were feeling forced and awkward.

He wanted to hold your hand, but his own hands were sweating buckets. He tried to keep up casual conversation, but that was getting harder and harder as the night wore on. Every sentence he wanted to just blurt it out and get it over with. It was impossible to keep talking about what vendors he recognized when all he wanted to say was “I love you and I’ll always love you and I want you by my side until the sun stops shining.”

It didn’t help that things felt awkward. Almost nothing was feeling easy or natural. It really had been far too long since the two of you had gone on any sort of date. He frowned as he thought about it. It had been over a year, at least. Longer, even. Well, he was going to have to fix that. He’d be able to use some of that pro hero paycheck and spoil you like you deserved. His Y/N. His mate. And soon, his wife.

Bakugou stared at nothing, his eyes going unfocus as he started daydreaming about how spectacular your wedding would be.

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

This was a disaster. You glanced over to where Bakugou stood picking at his food, looking bored. You’d been trying to keep up the conversation, but for the past several minutes you’d only gotten hums or grunts in response to anything you said.

“It’s amazing how they got all those pro heroes to dance nude as one of the main attractions this year.”

Katsuki grunted.

Yeah, he wasn’t paying attention at all.

You sighed, looking down at your own untouched food. You never should have agreed to come. At least this date was proving it to you. This had to end. The two of you didn’t know how to be a couple anymore. It was even clearer that Katsuki wasn’t even interested in trying. You had no idea why he wanted to have this date in the first place. Some bizarre sense of obligation? Maybe his heat had shaken him up enough that his omega needed the sense of normalcy? This issue was this wasn’t normal for the two of you anymore. It hadn’t been for a very long time. You sighed, glancing around for a trash can to oust you untouched dango.

A loud pop caused you to look up. The fireworks were about to start.

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

Bakugou looked up at the sound of the first firework.

“Wanna head to the pier?”

You nodded quietly, following him as he led the way. He was sweating so much now that if he set himself off he’d take out half the city.

This was it. It was almost time. The two of you were going to watch the fireworks from the out of the way pier like you had all those years ago. It was at the end of that fireworks show the two of you had had your first kiss. And this time… Well this time at the end of the show he was going to propose and you were going to say yes, and it was going to be perfect.

That is if he didn’t barf before you two got there.

“Hurry up,” he grunted as he picked up the pace.

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

You tried not to flinch at Bakugou’s harsh tone. He clearly wanted to get this night over with even more than you did. You tried not to let it hurt.

The pier was empty as it always was. The lack of lighting keeping others away. The first time you had discovered it, it had felt hidden and intimate. Now it felt desolate. Lonely.

You walked up to the railing and stared at the sky. The fireworks didn’t feel magical anymore either. Your fingers wrapped around the railing as you glanced to the side. Bakugou wasn’t even looking up. He was staring at the reflections of flashes in the dark swirling water below.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

And that was Part 6, my darlings! Hope you're enjoying the drama, because there's more angst on the way! You can scream at me about the cliffhanger in replies, reblogs, tags or asks. :P

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