#wednesday adams drinks bottle

[spottedlizardprints]

Wednesday Addams Water Bottle. Can be personalised with your name.

[webslingingslasher]

thinking about frat!peter leaving a conversation with someone or a group to take you upstairs because you looked at him with “fuck me” eyes

god i fucking LOVE frat!peter

You were Peter's girl. 

He’s made that clear, every party he has has his arm thrown around your neck. He’ll press his lips to your temple or cheek when you walk away for a moment and return. He talks to you during beer pong games, ignoring his teammate entirely. He always comes to find you when you’re supposed to arrive and he always, always kisses you hello. 

It was odd when you didn’t have him all over you when you walked in, even weirder when he wasn’t in the kitchen or garage. You texted him but was left on delivered, you wonder if he had made a run to the liquor store and forgot to tell you, you wouldn’t dare entertain the idea of him hooking up with another girl. 

No, you were his girl. He made it clear. 

Unless… 

You stomped up the staircase off from the kitchen, upstairs was mostly off limits during parties. The only exception being the first bathroom on the right of the stairs, Peter’s room was to the left off the side. Without even glancing at the line you took a sharp left and paused at his door. 

You took in a breath and pressed your ear against his door, you heard nothing but his standing fan running. Still not convinced you knocked lightly and pushed the door open, you blinked at the dark doom and flicked the lights on. His room was empty and his bed made, you grinned, at least he listened to one thing you told him. 

In defeat you shut the door and head back downstairs, you check your phone for a response and frown. Peter’s never ditched you at a party before, and it especially hurt because you hadn’t seen him in a week since he’s been so busy with school and the frat. 

“Have you seen Peter?” You tugged at the arm of a fraternity brother, he pulled a thinking face then nodded. “I think he was with Mallory, he said to let him know when you were here.” Your face screwed up, “who’s Mallory?” His friend smiled, “Trent’s friend! Parker’s been chattin’ ‘em up, they seem to be getting along pretty cool.” 

So much for being ‘his girl’.

“Oh. Well, if you see him let him know I went home.” 

His friend grabbed you when you turned to leave, “naw, don’t leave! Parker had specific instructions to let him know when you get here.” You scoff, “I don’t want to bother him and Mallory.” In an instant his friend slapped his forehead, you winced at the clap. 

“Aw shit, you think Mallory’s a chick. It’s Chuck Mallory, Trent’s friend from back home.” 

Oh. Well, that makes things better. But, still. Why isn’t he finding you himself? You were his girl!

“Where is he?” 

Jarred shoves you towards the living room with an elbow, “outside, I think Mallory got him to smoke some weed.” You oo and thank him before walking away, high Peter was your favorite. When Peter was drunk he was loose and lovey, when he was high he was giddy and cuddly. 

And cuddly Peter was exactly what you needed, you haven’t seen him in a whole week! You were itching to have him in your hold, let alone feel his lips on yours or have his body on yours in his bed. 

Your legs felt light when you reached the back patio, you saw him across the yard hovering near the jungle gym, a small playhouse and swings crawling with drunk friend groups. His arms covered in a white and black flannel, his right arm was across his chest as he scratched at his left shoulder, the hand dangled the neck of a beer bottle. 

You walk down the three steps and bumped shoulders with another guy, Adam, you share an astronomy class. “Hey!” His hands balance your shoulders, you wobble and hold on to his wrists, you laugh at the small adrenaline rush and smile, “hey!” 

“You’re walking how I felt after that test wednesday.” You laugh and put your weight on one hip, Adam’s hand dropped to grab his drink, the other fell to a casual hold on your elbow. There was no inkling of attraction, just a friendly gesture. 

“If you don’t feel confident I don’t have a chance.” 

“Nah, I wouldn’t sweat it. I’d put four bucks on the line you got higher than me.” 

You look over his face and hold out the hand he was grabbing, “I’ll take you up on that,” he grins and shakes your hand hard, “bet it is.” Adam looks to his side before holding tighter and pulling you in, “I’ve got a frat boy on my ten about to burn my head off.” You turn to look but Adam’s hand cups your face to keep you looking at him, “make him jealous, c’mon. It’ll be fun.” 

You grab his hand off your face and grin, “for you or for me?” Your classmate shrugs, “my date bailed, entertain me.” You rolled your eyes but brought him in for an exaggerated hug, “mine made me come find him, all because his friend brought some new, cooler than me, guy over.” 

When you pulled back you peeked a glance at Peter, his eyes narrowed in on the side of Adam’s face like you weren’t even there. He’s made it clear you were his girl and this guy doesn’t get it. You tapped your hand on Adam’s chest, “my guess is when I walk over there he’s going to make a big gesture of grabbing me and kissing me, making sure you watch.” 

The blonde steps away, “I’ll be watching, and waiting on my four bucks!” You turn with a gasp, your hand over your heart, “you said I’d win!” Adam waves you off, “that’s before it was a real bet!” 

You smirk and turn back around to your boy, his lips pulled into a neutral state. Peter’s pulled from the pack, standing on the outskirts facing you two perfectly, his eyes flash between the guy on the porch and you sauntering closer on the grass. 

You approach him with a wide smile and wrap your arms around him, his arms stay glued to his side, he’s trying to be upset but you hum and tilt him side to side. “Careful, if you don’t hug me back he may think I’m free game.” Immediately he tugs his arms from under you and presses you tight against him, his lips pressing tiny kisses to your head. “Who’s our new friend?” 

You snort and squeeze tight before stepping back, Peter wraps his arm around your neck. “Adam, we share astronomy.” 

Your boy drops a breath dramatically, “thank god it’s not chemistry.” You grip at his love handles and he pushes you away, “you’re lucky I even came to find you! Jarred told me all about you and Mallory.” The exaggeration of the name lets Peter know you thought it was a girl he tsks and shakes his head. 

“C’mon, trouble. You know you’re my girl.” 

“Do I?” The not so subtle quip made Peter give you a faulty smile, more and more you’ve been dropping hints that the lack of a label but the implication of one was bothering you. 

“I’d hope so, here. Trouble, meet Mallory, he’s staying with us for a few days. His dad is a web developer.” 

Suddenly you understood why he ditched you, his two most favorite things in one room. Nerding out and networking. 

Mallory, with shaggy brown hair and green eyes stretched out a hand. He shamelessly looked you up and down, a cocky smirk spread, “oh, hello, trouble.” 

Before you could respond Peter pulled your back into his chest and wrapped his arms around you, “oh no, this one’s my girl. My trouble, not yours.” You relaxed in his hold, his possessiveness made you feel jittery. 

“Easy up, Parker. I’ve got my eye on the blonde.” You followed his eyesight to the window, a group of blondes hovered. “Which one?” His smile made you happy to be in Peter’s arms, you snuggled in further with the answer. “Yes.” 

You blink submissively and plaster on a dumb smile, “it’s honestly so nice of you to have such an unspecified type. You’ll give anyone a shot, huh?” Peter gripped your hip but didn’t say anything, his new friend had an amused grin, he wasn’t used to a girl challenging him. 

“Some of the girls I’ve fucked could be concidered charity work, maybe I could collect one more?” 

Trent shoved on Mallory’s chest, “cool it, prick. Parker���s girl is good to have around, apologize.” 

You could feel how stiff Peter’s chest was at his comment, the boy apologized and you nodded but Peter still felt seized up, until Mallory broke the silence. 

“Yo, Parker. Did I tell you about the internship program?” And you could feel Peter’s indecisiveness, he wanted to bark back at him but he also could use an internship, you pulled away from him and nodded at the shaggy hair. 

“Pete, you were just talking about that like, two weeks ago.” 

And the conversation flowed, the group talked back and forth and even with the jab, Mallory included you in the conversation and you could see the charismatic side of him, as much as you didn’t want to. After twenty minutes the group walked to an empty picnic table, Mallory sat on the top of the table, pausing mid conversation to lick his wrapped blunt, pressing the seal. 

Ethan, Chris and Trent sat on the left side of the table, you, Peter and Dylan sat on the right. Dylan was also perched on the top of the table, his feet on the bench. Peter sat with his back to the table, his neck turned to the left to look at his new friend, your right shoulder rested on the side of the table, your legs thrown over Peter’s lap as he ran his hands up and down your shins. You rested your head on your fist, your elbow on the table as well. 

You stared at Peter’s face as he made conversation in the group and laughed, you weren’t paying much attention but felt your heart lurch at every grin he casted and you laughed when he did. 

Peter felt eyes burning a hole through him, he looked at you and grinned. ‘What?’ he mouthed, ‘nothing,’ you replied. He gave you a look that said ‘you’re being weird,’ you leaned in closer and tapped his cheek. As if you’d have to ask, he met you and pressed his bottom lip against your top, his hand holding onto your knee. You smiled against his lips, then pressed another kiss, “I missed you,” Peter hums, “missed you too.” 

“Oi! You helped Trent cheat?” You shook your head when you pulled from Peter, Mallory smacked against your arm. Peter looked at you surprised, “no! Don’t- Don’t say it like that!” You looked around and hissed, “I just helped him understand a few questions better. During a test. For a final. By passing notes. But absolutely no cheating!” 

“Trouble, what?” You grinned back at your boy nervously and looked at Trent as if you’ve been betrayed. Peter patted the side of your thigh, you ignored his call and Trent grinned with his hands up, “you won cool points forever, sorry babe.” 

You groan and point around the table, “that never happened, okay!” 

Mallory lit the blunt and passed it down the line, Ethan laughed at the quick silence. “If you guys think that’s funny I should tell you about the time she helped Parker study for an anatomy quiz.” 

“Peter!” You gesture to his friend at the far side of the table, the others getting a laugh at your reaction. You sputter and shove at his arm, you can’t help but smile yourself. Peter jolts when you attack his side, you’re letting his friends see his ‘boyfriend side’, the one that giggles when you tickle him and leans into your touch, breathless and smiley when you end the attack. 

“Stop making fun of my girl, she takes it out on me!” You prove his point and tickle his side again, he pulls your hips and throws you to straddle him. You can’t help but yelp at the sudden movement, you oof when you slam against his hips, his hands bolt your own down on your thighs. 

If you could’ve clenched your thighs you would’ve, you forgot how quick he could throw you around. It’s been the longest week of your life since you met him. Dylan whistles and his gang claps, you roll your eyes, “Parker just earned top dog of the week!” 

Dylan noogies Peter’s hat, you smack his hand away and place a protective hand, “leave my baby alone.” Ethan holds his hand across the table, “tell your baby to take a hit,” you extend your own, Peter takes the time to wrap his arm around your back, you return with a smile, you raise the blunt to his mouth, “take a hit.” 

You watch Peter lean his head forward and take a hit, your look down and your warm smile melted into one of admiration. The lit end engulfed in red and orange, a single stream of smoke raised, his eyebrows furrowed as he took a longer hit, his eyes flashed up and saw the ardor in your eyes. 

His fingers pushed into your thigh and you pulled away, you watched him blow out the smoke slowly while you took your own inhale, your only thoughts on Peter, no interest in the other conversations. You held the tobacco back up and bit your lip when his fingers brushed yours for another toke, “you’re looking at me funny,” he spoke between his inhale, you took the hat off his head, his head tilted at first, pausing to stop you but letting you do it when you flashed a frown. 

You set the cap on the bench next to you, your fingers immediately fixing his curls and adjusting his hat hair. “You’re smokin’ babe.” You shook out his curls, you curled your fingers into them, his lips shot up to kiss your wrist, “thanks, honey.” 

Your heart clenched, more and more he’s like your boyfriend. He’s laying it on thick tonight, you press a kiss to his lips, neither one of you a fan of heavy pda, him more than you, especially in front of his brothers. Peter holds the blunt behind your back and tugs you closer, he breaks away and his glazed eyes peered at your lips and to your eyes, “I love…” You listen closer and tug his shirt, he stops himself, “I love kissing you,” 

You press a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips graze to his ear, “that all?” You looked back at his face but he cleared his throat and looked behind you to hand the blunt off to Dylan. You’re teasing, that’s all. You poke at his cheeks, “don’t get all freaked out, I’m kidding, petey.” 

You humph when his hand covers your mouth, his eyes shoot to his friends. He’s in the clear, no one heard. If any one of his friends heard the pet name they’d bully him to death, simp him to shame. He’d never ever hear the end of it. 

Peter’s eyes burrowed into yours, “absolutely not.” 

“Petey.” You mumbled it into his hand, he pressed against your mouth harder. He gave you a death stare, you giggled and pulled at his wrist, he gave you a warning glance but let it fall away. 

You took a deep breath and leaned to whisper in his ear, your hands cupped around your mouth. “petey, petey, petey.” His fingers dig into your sides, as you curl into him he pushes your hips away. 

“You’re being a menace tonight, trouble.” 

You wheezed against him and pushed his hand away, “I’m sorry!” 

And the moment you looked back up at him he understood, you had a look on your face only he was lucky enough to see. It was the same look you gave him when he was pushing into you, as you dug your nails into his shoulder blades and cried out his name. The same look when you lay breathless, your fingers tangled in his hair pulling as tight as you could grinding your hips against his face. 

“I just missed you this week,” you whispered the words and fixed his collar, he missed you too. 

Peter grabbed your fingers and kissed them, “okay, then go pee, baby.” He spoke loudly and laughed, catching the attention of his friends but they continued with the conversation. You furrowed your brow, you went to speak but he continued, “okay, then let’s go.” He patted your thighs and you scrambled to get off them, he stood up and grabbed your hand to tug you up. 

Peter gave a salute to his friend group, “be right back,” you nodded and followed his path inside. Your boy tugged you up the stairs and to his room, his hat was tossed to his dresser and he ripped his flannel off. 

You smiled when you realized what he did, you told him you hated how his friends jeered him on when it was assumed you were about to have sex. It makes you feel icky. You give him a sudden hug, he stills but wraps his own arm around you. 

“You okay?” 

“You did that for me?” 

Peter kisses the top of your head, “you give me the look, I make the excuse.” 

Then smacks your backside, “now get naked, if we take longer than thirty minutes they’ll ask questions.” 

You pull your shirt off and flop on the center of his bed, “yes, sir.” 

[carry-the-sky]

wip wednesday!! tagged by the one and only @ninzied ♡

“Care for a drink?” Aziraphale asks, mouth suddenly dry, reaching for the bottle before he gets an answer. “I normally don’t go for something this light, but it should pair beautifully with—” His fingers graze Crowley’s as he hands him his glass, and he’s rendered momentarily speechless. “—with the, um…well, all of it, really,” he finishes feebly.  Crowley takes a long gulp, seemingly oblivious to the small crisis he’s caused. He’s sprawled on his side, the lean length of him braced on an elbow. Aziraphale sips his wine and casually rearranges the picnic basket so that it’s between the two of them, a welcome bulwark against thoughts of fingers and hands and what one might be tempted to do with them. “So, this is eating on the ground,” Crowley says. “Still, not the worst time I’ve had after being propositioned with a basket.” He makes devil horns on the side of his head, tongue waggling, one hand still holding his wine. “The distinct lack of an Antichrist really ties this whole thing together, I think.”  “Indeed,” Aziraphale says, doing his level best not to linger on the word propositioned and all its various implications. “Though I do hope Adam is staying out of trouble, whatever he’s up to now.” “He’s a kid,” Crowley says. “If he’s not getting into a bit of trouble here and there, he’s doing it wrong.”  “Yes, but there’s a difference between a bit of trouble, and the…the other kind.”  Crowley grins, teeth flashing. “And you’d know all about the other kind, eh, angel?”

tagging!! @garglyswoof, @heidiamalia, @onebatch2batch, @heartonfirewrites and anyone who sees this and wants to play :)

[liightsout]

the blue - part five

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✯ summary: mattie misses adam while he's gone, danny is there to make her feel better ✯

✯ pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!oc ✯

✯ content warnings: none rlly - pure fluff ✯

✯ now playing: skinny love - bon iver ✯

✯ series masterlist ✯

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March 2021 

Adam had been gone for about a week now. Pre-season testing had started in Bahrain on the 12th and he would be there until around 15th, coming home for a few days before heading back to the country on the 24th for the start of the first race weekend. 

Mattie was used to Adam being gone for a lot of the year. Even when he was home it seemed that he was always busy with something at the MTC, or heading out to see all the friends he had made on his travels around the world. 

She wasn’t a jealous person. But she did find herself envious of the amount of time everyone else got to spend with her best friend. They had grown up thick as thieves, constantly in one another’s pockets. She now had to settle for sporadic texting and FaceTime calls at strange hours. 

He had sent her a message earlier in the day telling her how well everything was going, followed by a photo of him, Lando and some of the other guys out for dinner at a fancy restaurant. She hated that she immediately noticed the lack of Danny in the photo. 

She hadn’t spoken to Danny since that night in the bar. Their evening had ended after a few more drinks, plenty of banter and as Adam had promised, she was home and tucked up in bed by 11PM. 

The first couple days of Adam being gone had been relatively painless. As a freelance editor she had the luxury of picking how heavy or light she chose her workload to be. She had a habit of throwing herself into her work while Adam was gone. Taking on extra clients to help fill the time and pass the days until he came back home. 

By the 7th day of Adam being gone she had felt the loneliness creeping in. It was moments like this that she had cursed herself for not being more social during her younger years. It wasn’t that she didn’t have other friends, she did, it was just that they all had their own lives. She felt that the only times they would reach out would be when they needed something from her or had seen Adam on the TV at one of the races. 

It was a Wednesday evening and Mattie found herself half way through a bottle of wine, scrolling aimlessly through her Instagram feed. She smiled as she saw a photo posted by Lando. The young Brit praising how good the new car was for this season. She double tapped the photo and continued scrolling. 

Her fingers stopped as she saw a post from Daniel. It wasn’t even a photo of him. Just the same as Lando had, he’d posted a photo of the car. But why did she feel like her heart was beating out of her chest? She shook her head and double tapped the photo. 

It was only a minute later that she saw the notification appear on her screen. 

danielricciardo sent you a message 

Mattie stared at her phone screen. She felt like a teenager again. She could feel her heartbeat racing and palms growing sweaty. This stupid crush was not going away any time soon, she feared. 

danielricciardo: hello stranger, i see you’re creeping on my instagram again! 

Mattie huffed out a laugh. Of course he would say that. 

mattieryan: ha ha you’re funny! i wasn’t creeping. i just came across the post on my feed. don’t flatter yourself so much, your head will grow too big! 

She hoped he didn’t mind her jibe. She didn’t want him to think she was being rude. She hated that she over thought her every action when it came to Danny. Her worries stopped when her phone vibrated, indicating he had replied almost immediately. 

danielricciardo: you wound me mattie girl! but you might have a point there 

danielricciardo: anyway, how are you? 

Her mind went back to that night in the bar. Danny being so adamant that she knew that he considered them to be friends. This is what friends did; chat, ask each other how they are. This was normal. She could be friends with Daniel Ricciardo. 

mattieryan: yeah i’m alright thanks! currently on the sofa, drinking wine and deciding what to watch on netflix. how are you? testing going ok? 

danielricciardo: cute! yeah not too bad, still getting to grips with the car a bit, but we’ll get there! i’m just in the hotel now, also deciding what to watch on netflix. any ideas? 

mattieryan: you’ll get there, i’m sure of it :) as for what to watch, i’m settling on the office, it’s my comfort show lol 

danielricciardo: great choice! what episode are we watching? 

mattieryan: i’m on season 5, episode 27, cafe disco! it’s one of my favs. 

danielricciardo: i’ll put it on now. second question, why do you need comforting? everything alright? 

She hoped he didn’t pick up on that. She wasn’t sure how honest she should be. She sighed, contemplating her reply. They were friends right? 

mattieryan: didn’t realise you’d caught that, haha. i’m okay, it just gets a bit lonely at home sometimes when adam is gone. i would message him, but i know he’s out with Lando tonight so didn’t want to bother him. 

mattieryan: seriously, i’m fine though! i promise, it’s not that deep, i’ve just had half a bottle of wine and i’m in my feelings, haha. 

Mattie locked her phone and placed it delicately in her lap. She attempted to divert her attention by focusing on the TV screen in front of her. She found herself laughing as she watched the characters of her favourite show dancing round the screen. 

danielricciardo: i’m more than just a pretty face ya know? that’s perfectly valid. it must suck that he’s gone so much. but i also know for a fact that if you text him and told him how you were feeling he would drop everything to call you. 

danielricciardo: but if you’re not going to message him, you’ll have to put up with me bothering you instead :) 

mattieryan: you’re not bothering me danny, but thanks for being so sweet 

danielricciardo: careful sweetheart, you’ll make my head grow bigger! 

danielricciardo: we never got to finish our game of twenty questions. 

danielricciardo: what’s your favourite flower? 

Mattie found herself messaging Danny until the small hours of the morning. By the time she had finally caved and fallen asleep she felt that she knew the Aussie enough to feel confident calling him a friend. 

They had spoken about anything and everything. 

Danny had learnt that her favourite flowers were daisies and that she loved to fill her flat with them any chance she got. He also now knew her favourite film was Romeo + Juliet, but that she loved Tangled. 

He knew that she preferred autumn and spring to the summer heat or bitter cold. She told him she liked it cool enough to wear a jacket, but sunny enough she could wear sunglasses and not feel silly. 

She’d never been to Australia, but always wanted to go. He told her he would show her one day. 

Mattie had learnt that Danny was an uncle and that he loved kids. He told her all about his ranch in Perth and how he loved to ride quad bikes around the land. He had sheep and horses on the ranch and how he savoured going back home any chance he got. 

Mattie now knew how deep his love of music ran. How he had a playlist for every scenario and that he loved finding new bands and musicians that he had never heard of before. 

He adored that she hadn’t asked him once about Formula 1 or that whole part of his life. She wanted to know about him. Danny. Not Daniel Ricciardo, driver for Mclaren. 

Mattie couldn’t believe that he was interested. He wanted to know more about her. She felt seen, a feeling she hadn’t felt for a long time. 

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Mattie woke up the next morning, rubbing at her face, she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light now pouring through her bedroom window. She definitely had forgotten to set her alarm last night. She checked the alarm clock next to her bed, 9:05AM. 

Time to get up. 

She went about the start of her day as usual. She showered, dressed and made herself a coffee before the clock had hit 10AM. Sitting down on one of the barstools by the kitchen counter she pulled out her laptop and began her working day. 

A couple hours passed and she had successfully responded to every email in her inbox, and started to read the latest draft of a novel sent to her by one of her clients. She was just getting into a new chapter when she heard her intercom buzz. Confused, she stood up and walked over to the control panel by the front door. 

“Hello” she spoke into the microphone, waiting for a response. 

“Hiya! I have a delivery for Mattie Ryan? Can you buzz me up?” a female voice came through the speaker. 

She pressed the enter button as she searched her brain, trying to remember what she had ordered. Coming up empty, she concluded that it was probably a delivery for Adam but that he had put her name down, knowing he’d be out of the country when it would arrive. 

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. 

She opened the door gingerly and looked at the delivery woman standing in front of her. 

“Delivery for Mattie Ryan? Don’t worry, you don’t need to sign, hope you have a lovely day” the woman spoke as she handed the biggest bouquet of daisies to Mattie. 

Mattie looked at the flowers in her hands. Dozens of delicate daisies bound together by brown string, a white card placed on top of them with her name written beautifully in black ink. 

She found herself in a slight trance as she closed the door and walked back into her flat. Placing the flowers down carefully on the worktop she opened the card. 

Hope these make your day a bit brighter - DR x

Mattie’s face broke into the biggest smile. Her cheeks immediately turned a crimson red, a stark contrast to the snowy white daisies that lay before her. 

She quickly pulled out her phone and opened her chat with Danny.  

mattieryan: thank you for my flowers danny, they’re beautiful. 

Without thinking about it too much she snapped a quick photo of herself standing next to the bouquet with a grin on her face. The message turned from delivered to read almost as quickly as she had sent it 

danielricciardo: not as beautiful as you 

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✯ authors note: part five is here babies! i'm not totally in love with this one tbh, but i hope you all enjoy

i've not been able to stop thinking about the vcarb01 all day, it's giving 2017 toro rosso livery in the best way, absolutely beautiful

and danny looked so happy at the launch event it made my heart hurt. and the white racing suits/hugo boss fits..... i'm unwell ✯

[madhatterbri]

Last Night | Hangman Adam Page

Summary: Based off Last Night by Morgan Wallen.

Author's Note: We got him back Wednesday night. ❤️

@theworldofotps

Adam woke up to the familiar feeling of a hangover. A string of whispered curses left his lips. He wouldn't wish this feeling on his worst enemy. After a few minutes of collecting himself, he sat up and placed his feet on the cold floor. He looked at his nightstand in confusion. You would normally leave a glass of water and aspirin for him.

He immediately turned around to see your side of the bed empty. Not again, he thought to himself. He would spend the next fifteen minutes trying to piece together what happened last night.

Last night he remembered coming home. You met him at the door with nothing on but a smile. Lips crashed together as he took you to the bedroom. He remembered your fingers gripping the sheets as the two of you made up for lost time of being on the road.

The rest of the night was spent leaning against the headboard. You shared bottles of alcohol talking about life then the fighting started. He still wasn't sure why you always wanted to argue. He said things, so many things he would take back in a second. A vicious cycle that now left him wanting you back in bed with him.

🌗

You remembered calling your mom crying last night. All your past insecurities during childhood coming out. The memories of your mom picking a fight with your dad to get attention from him to make him stay. As an adult, you were doing the same thing with Adam.

Currently you were on your friend's couch. The contents of last night's drinking binge in a trash can next to your head. Your arm rested over your face as you fought to stay alive. You wished Adam was here cuddling with you. He would kiss the top of your head and tell you everything was going to be okay. Now you had a best friend telling you to get it together.

"You gotta stop doing this with him. I know your mom and dad did this but you are going to lose him one day,"

The thought of losing Adam felt like a bucket of ice cold water being poured on you. You couldn't lose him. Life with him on the road was unbearable enough. Life without him completely wouldn't be worth living.

"I told him I wasn't coming back again," you whispered. Your face hurt from crying last night. Now you were just an emotional mess. "I don't want to lose him,"

"Then tell him your insecurities and work on it instead of just blowing up on him like a crazy person,"

🌗

"I'd rather you talk to me instead of just pretend I'm not here," he confessed. You stopped in your tracks. The shame of putting your relationship through another meaningless fight burned your cheeks. He moved his arm out for you to cuddle into him.

"I'm sorry about last night and all the other nights," you breathed and wrapped your arms around him. He placed his arm around you. You buried your head in his shoulder. His scent danced with your nose. Your arms latched around his waist as if he was going to float away.

"I'm worried about you, darling. Is everything okay?"

You moved your face from his shoulder. Tears already dampened his black shirt. No matter the problems at work or home he always put you first.

"I have a lot to work on, I know. I just miss you and I think if I act like this you'll stay longer. I'm sorry about last night. It won't happen ever again," you promised. Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. He loved you. That was obvious but what if one day he grew tired of the dramatics.

Adam rubbed your back in an attempt to calm you down. Last night his friends told him to let you go. Despite all the drama he knew he couldn't. He loves you and he wanted to help you. The whole situation was just a bump in the road.

"Promise me that when things start getting to you, come talk to me first. I want to work on this but we need to do it together.”

You nodded and buried your face in his shoulder once more. Last night was the stepping stone to a better relationship. You just knew it.

[aclockmaker]

WIP Wednesday Thursday because if I don’t post something I might die :)

Based on this post

steddie, cw drugs

Find another weed guy, I can’t fuck with you… uhhmm nothing personal I can’t fall in love with another straight guy and you’re Everything I love so if I see you again i’ll never let go of your hand so yeah

Eddie types out the text with one hand, flat in bed, despondent. His other hand is busy laying across his eyes dramatically. He’s squinting out from under it to type. He deletes the message without sending it. Again. He knows he’s going to see Steve again. Aside from everything else, he needs the money. He doesn’t have that many customers. It would be stupid to not go.

Hey man, you free to come by tonight? Steve had texted. Like he was talking to a buddy. Eddie usually sold Steve weed, sometimes shrooms. Sometimes his roommate Robin was there and that made things a little easier. Usually Steve asked and Eddie stayed to smoke and that made things a little worse.

Steve asks today. And Robin isn’t home.

“God, work was—never mind, I don’t even want to bore you with the gory details,” Steve says. He does something in finance, like his dad, and he hates it. Eddie wishes he didn’t know this. “But anyway, I really needed this. Thanks for coming over.”

“You literally pay me,” Eddie reminds him, the last threads of his sanity wearing thin in the face of Steve’s unnecessary niceness, “so.”

“I know, man, but still,” Steve says, pops off his baseball cap and fixes his beautiful hair underneath, tugs it back down. He looks like even more of a jock in the hat and unfortunately it does nothing to kill Eddie’s boner for him. If he’s honest, it’s part of the appeal. Sometimes he literally plays basketball right before calling Eddie, and he answers the door sweaty in low-cut tank tops, thick chest hair on display. “You want a beer?”

Steve drinks terrible beer. Unfortunately Eddie would like to tease him about it and kiss the side of his mouth while introducing him to something decent. “Sure, why not,” Eddie says, because it’s still free beer and also he’s an idiot.

Part of being a dealer is seeing inside people’s lives. Just briefly, though. That’s what you have to remember—you’re the interloper. Eddie delivers all over downtown Indianapolis—does it to put himself through school, slowly. He doesn’t want anybody else like he wants Steve. Has maybe never wanted anybody this much and he’s had his fair share of ill-advised hookups with people he was half in love with who didn’t care about him enough.

It makes it worse (better) that he knows nothing’s ever going to happen with Steve.

Steve hands him a Sam Adams without a trace of embarrassment and Eddie sighs internally, takes a pull.

He gets out the lunch box he deals from out of his bag and puts it on the table. Steve doesn’t like it when he does it right away, like he’s trying to make it fast and get out of there. He’s never said anything, but Eddie can, like, tell. Doesn’t like to make him sad and shit. It seems like his life is kind of—Eddie doesn’t want to say sad, but he never talks about his parents except to say that his dad did such and such new shitty, annoying thing at work, pressured him and made him feel not good enough. He doesn’t say it exactly like that, but Eddie gets the picture. He wants to tell Steve he thinks he’s good enough, and all kinds of other ridiculous shit.

Steve clinks the neck of his beer bottle against Eddie’s and takes a grateful sip. It’s the middle of summer and hot, and even the central air in Steve’s building is struggling to keep up.

“Anything good?” Steve asks, eyeing the bags of drugs Eddie’s pulling out.

“This is decent,” Eddie says, flicking one. “Mostly sativa, but it’s like… friendly. I’ve gotten good feedback.” To be more accurate, one person had texted and asked for the same thing as last time. But still.

“Whatever you say,” Steve says, like always. He’s very easygoing about his drugs. With him it really seems to be more about the journey than the destination.

[besthimbomachine]

what my hands and my body done

summary: After his win against Jon Moxley in the death match, Adam feels the weight of what he had to do hanging heavy in his chest. He goes out to a bar to try and find relief at the bottom of a bottle but finds something else instead. His relief comes in the form of the bartender who knows nothing of who he is or what he has gone through, just what he needed to be able to wash out the savagery from his body. pairing: hangman adam page x reader word count: 9743 warning: smut, minors go away this one is a request for hangman x reader smut set after his revolution match from @lambofjudgement! sorry I lost your ask somewhere babe, I was trying to put it in my drafts before so I could prepare the answer but then I couldn't find it anymore. Also sorry this took so long to come out and it's this big, yall this is why my requests take so long, I often end up turning them into much bigger things, esp if I like the concept. anyways, here it is, horny and rough cowboy action. thank you so much for the request I loved writing it and it made me 3x hornier for the hangster which has actually enhanced my quality of life!

Wednesday nights at the bar were always slow. Few people went out to drink in the middle of the week, and most of the ones who did were familiar faces, long time patrons who either drank too much or lived under weird schedules. Not that you were one to judge, you’d had your own ups and downs in life, so you didn’t care much. Besides, your job was to serve drinks, not ask questions. Not unless people wanted you to, some always did, but most just wanted to be left alone. And so you did, happy to serve orders that you knew like the back of your hand and be surrounded by faces you'd seen a dozen times before. So, it was a wonder when you spotted somebody new.

It was way past the middle of your shift when he came in, movement in the bar slowing down as the clock already marked eleven in the night. Music played softly in the background as you cleaned the stone counter, the bar mostly empty. Just a few people hang around, the odd couple here and there, the low noise of their conversations filling the space in between. You’d been sitting in a chair and just looking through your phone when he came up to the counter, blue eyes looking around before he spotted you. To see a new face on a Wednesday night was a surprise already. For that new face to be a big guy with a black eye was something else.

Your first worry at the sight was that he’d be some sort of troublemaker. A big, strong looking dude walks into your bar with a busted eye, there is no way you wouldn’t worry. Today was one of the few days you didn’t get to stay until closing, the last thing you needed was a problem patron right at the end of your shift. You looked him up and down, looking for any suspicious sign, any small thing that could count as a warning. But contrary to your fears, the man just politely asked for an old fashioned in a voice so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it. His demeanor seemed so different from the rough look in his face that you almost couldn’t believe it.

As you started preparing the cocktail he struck up conversation - another surprise to you, usually the types to show up looking like trouble were the ones who liked to drink in silence. A heavy southern accent spilled through his words as he made small talk, he was charismatic and good at conversation and despite his looks, he sounded nice enough. You quickly learned his name was Adam and that he wasn’t from this city, just passing by for work. He never specified what he worked at, and you didn’t press either, you had more interesting questions in your mind. Questions that could help you decide whether this guy fine or if you should be pulling the crowbar from under the counter.

“So,” you started, going back to cleaning your shaker as you tried to pretend you weren’t quite so curious, “looking like you had a rough day there, buddy.”

“Ah,” Adam stuttered in his words, one hand coming to touch the skin under his swollen eye, an awkward smile playing on his lips, “yeah, not my best, but at least I’m alive.”

You smiled back at him, trying to set him a bit more at ease. His answer made it seem like whatever happened to him hadn’t been by his own choice, but you still felt curiosity getting the better of you. You’d try one more time, if he didn’t want to answer, you’d let it drop.

“Mind if I ask what happened?” You leaned into the counter, pulling your chair closer to him as you sat down.

“Well,” Adam looked around, taking a deep breath before his gorgeous eyes fell back to you, soft gaze wavering just slightly. “Guess I caught the attention of the wrong person.”

You looked back at him, a grimace coming to your face for just a second as his blue eyes looked into his cup, a large hand twirling the dark liquid around. The guy clearly didn’t want to discuss what happened, so you wouldn’t ask anymore. Besides, if what he said was true, it seemed he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd. You’d seen that story play a dozen times, it never really ended well.

“Shit,” you replied with a sympathetic smile, Adam watching you from the corner of your eyes as he drank his whiskey, “let’s hope you don’t have to go through that again.”

“Yeah, let’s hope for that,” he retorted with a small laugh, raising his glass to you before taking a large gulp.

Adam was more than glad when you dropped the subject. His body was still sore and freshly bruised from his encounter with Moxley, but in the end, he’d come out alive. No matter the cost. But he had come to the bar with the intention of forgetting that very match, forgetting just how far he had to go to win it. His body refused to let go, it refused to slow down from the sheer violence it had gone through, but his mind needed the break. He needed it desperately. 

So went looking for the first bar that seemed like nobody there would be watching any sort of sport whatsoever, and that’s how he found this place. From the outside, the bar looked like a hole in the wall, and the minute he stepped in, he was quick to figure out why. It was a punk bar - or at least some sort of underground rock bar. The place didn’t want to be noticed because it catered to a particular clientele, and right now, Adam was all too happy for it.

When he entered the place, it seemed nice enough, and the fact that people seemed not to care about his presence was a welcomed change. But from the moment he sat on the counter, however, he only had eyes for you. Maybe it was the violence still coursing through him, trying to find another outlet to escape - or maybe you just looked that good. But the moment his eyes found you, he could feel something in his body stir, even as he tried to push it down. Even as he tried to tame whatever part of him that was behaving so much like an animal.

As Adam asked for a drink, he could see your eyes judging him, heavy stare regarding him with violent suspicion. Even your burning glare and tough demeanor did nothing to lessen his powerful and sudden attraction. He made polite conversation, trying to keep his wandering eyes under control and hoping he could avoid the obvious topic of what happened to him. It didn’t really work, but he was glad you were quick to drop the subject when you noticed his vague answers. He had come to the bar trying to be something else, somebody other than the person he’d been at the ring. He wanted to forget what he had to do today, and if just for a night, be cleansed of this whole issue with Moxley. And as he continued chatting with you, a part of him hoped you could help with that.

Soon, you found yourself enjoying what was supposed to be just polite small talk. Adam had a charm around him, a certain magnetism that made it hard not to smile and his words and laugh at his every joke. And it’s not like his looks were helping either, despite the purple bruise on his swollen eye he still looked beautiful, blond hair framing his face in the most flattering way. Hell, maybe the bruise made him even more so, adding this air of dangerous mystery to his soft blue eyes. Clashing with the sweetness of his deep voice and the warmth of his laughter.

Though you weren’t stupid, before he was even done with the drink you could tell he was trying to hit on you. You could see his baby blues wandering from your eyes to your mouth before going back up. The drawl of his voice sounding so welcoming as he tried to smooth talk you. This wasn’t your first rodeo, you’d seen plenty of others try this before - most not even half as good looking as him, though. But you played along, half out of boredom and half out of honest interest. You had no special plans for the night, and you wouldn’t mind finishing it with such a handsome man between your legs.

You two went like this for a little while, flirting and talking whenever you didn’t have to serve something or another to someone who’d come up to the counter. Adam was a good talker, charming and polite, with a deep voice and a thick accent that you wouldn’t mind listening to for a long while. He’d arrived at the bar quiet and almost defeated, but as the whiskey worked its way around his body he started perking up, laugh coming easier as he started to relax. It was when you were putting away one of the bottles, back turned to him, that he hit you with a question you wanted to hear.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he started, taking a sip from his whiskey as you turned back to him, “what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Are you trying to ask the bartender out, Adam?” You asked teasingly.

“If she’ll have me,” he replied, voice a deep rumble as a smile played on his beautiful lips.

“She’d love to,” you leaned into the counter, smiling back at him before cocking your head to the side, pulling your body further from him. “You are shit out of luck, though, I gotta see my brother and nephew tomorrow. Haven’t seen the brat in a while, can’t back down this time,” you saw his smile drop, shoulders slumping slightly as he took in your answer, but before he could respond you continued. “But, if you aren’t scared of being out this late, my shift ends in half an hour.”

“Well, darling,” he smiled again, tongue licking a droplet of his drink that spilled down his lip, his voice thick and inviting, “I’m not afraid if you aren’t.”

When your shift ended, you changed quickly back into your normal clothes, an old band t-shirt with the neckline and sleeves cut off tucked into the jeans you’d worn for work. Pulling Adam by the hand, you quickly drag him away from the bar, through the front exit and into an empty street. When he protests about where you are going, you just tell him that it���s going to be somewhere nice, enjoying his look of shock and confusion. He was clearly surprised at the ease with which you traversed through the silent streets. You may be horny, but you weren’t just about to get into a room with this guy without giving him a run for it first, just to make sure you weren’t going to die.

It’s about a fifteen minute walk before you pull up to a partially hidden park, Adam’s eyes widening as he takes in the sight. The park was surrounded by large buildings, if someone didn’t know it was there, they probably wouldn’t have found it. That by itself was already something, but mounted somewhere in the park was a projector he couldn’t see. All he could see was the large black and white movie projected in one of the gray walls, the sounds of it coming from further ahead. You pulled at his hand again, taking him from his state of shock, holding two beer bottles in your hand as you led the way forward.

You stopped by a tree a little further away from where most of the people were gathering. There were few people sitting around in the park, most of them gathered in a spot closer to the projection. You had chosen a place by the side of it, not central but still visible. Handing him the beer, you leaned back into the large tree, Adam following suit. The projection was of an old horror movie, some black and white creature feature he’d never seen before.

As you talked a few minutes, he discovered you knew the man who ran this outdoor screening - he was the owner of the bar. It was an event that happened twice a week, and you’d come here after work to wind down. In the back of his head, Adam wondered if you could see just how much he needed to wind down. You talked and laughed at the movie for a while, and he could feel his body and mind starting to relax. The ghosts of what had happened hours before seeming more distant now. He felt lighter, laughing with disregard at something from the movie when your voice interrupted him.

“So, was the impromptu date worth it?” You ask, voice and eyes betraying your desire.

“Very much so,” he replies, letting his own desire drip through his voice, turning his body towards you.

“Then I guess I deserve a reward?” You question, already leaning closer to him, a mischievous smile painted on your face.

Adam reciprocates the gesture, leaning forward and closing the space between you, crashing his lips into yours. He brings a hand to hold your face, the other sneaking around your waist as he feels your hands touch his chest. Your lips taste like citrus to him, they are soft and sweet, and he wouldn’t mind staying in their taste. Adam bites softly into your lower lip, making you whimper in his arms, and he takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His touch starts light but very quickly becomes rougher as he feels you lean into the kiss more, arms coming around his neck, your chest pressing against his.

His strong hand holds you by the back of your head, tongue tasting every bit of the soft wetness of your mouth. He can still feel the beer over the citric flavor of your lips, the faint taste of alcohol dancing on your tongue. You moan into his lips and Adam shivers, cock twitching in his pants at the sensation. He doesn’t want to, but he has to break the kiss for air, lips finding your neck the moment he regains his breath. You smell like wood and cinnamon and something sweet, and it has him intoxicated.

You moan under his touch, a hand slipping into his blond hair as the other goes back to his broad chest. He looked strong before, but now under your touch he feels impressive. Thick shoulders feeling solid like rock to your fingers, powerful arms holding you in a vice like grip. He could snap you in half if he wanted, you were sure, but he doesn’t, hand cradling your head gently as he devours your neck. His presence feels almost addictive to your senses, the feeling of his body on yours, the taste of his mouth, the way he smells like leather and moss. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

Tugging on his hair, you pull his face back to yours, lips meeting with a needy cry. You slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting the beer and whiskey on him. He growls through the sloppy kiss as your hand travels from his chest and down his solid torso. You feel his grip on your waist harden as your fingers slowly move down. He takes over the kiss, biting and licking with fervor, abusing your lips while the hand on the back of your head keeps you in place. Your fingers slip past his belt, finding the rough texture of his jeans and the clear bulge pressing against the fabric. It feels big, hard and hot, and you need to have it now.

Slipping your other hand down, you work fast to unbuckle his belt before Adam can protest - though, something tells you he wouldn't really do that. Breaking from the kiss, you look him in the eyes, the blue all but gone as his dilated pupils take over the space. You let your hands hover over the button of his pants for a second to see if he’d stop you, when he doesn’t, you undo it fast, pulling the zipper down in a haste. You slip your hand down into his pants, looking around you for a moment, counting on the distance from the people and the cover of the dim light to keep you safe.

When you finally pull out his cock, Adam shudders, a low grunt escaping his lips. God, he looks so good, big, thick and hard as metal on your hand. You can’t wait to taste it, lowering your body down until your lips are almost at his head. Looking back at him, you catch his darkened eyes trailed on your mouth as he leans back into the tree trunk. You teasingly slip your tongue out, licking his sensitive head. He trembles in your hand with an erotic noise, and that’s when you dive in, finally taking him into your mouth.

Adam mutters a curse under his breath, words coming like a rumble from deep within his core. He watches as your pretty lips seal tight around his cock, sucking on the swollen tip, one hand gripping at his base. Shit, he usually wouldn’t do something like this, but he was way past caring right now. Your mouth felt so warm, so good, his need was the only thing running through his head at the moment. Taking one hand to your hair, fingers softly holding at the strands, he lets you set the pace, happy to just drench in the pleasure he felt.

You take him out of your mouth for a second and Adam almost whines at the loss of your warmth. He watches you kissing along his underside, going all the way down to the base of his hard length. Your wet tongue licks around his erection before finding a particularly sensitive vein on his underside. He hisses as you trail his length from the base to the slit slowly, pleasure bordering on pain at your torturous pace. A deep groan escapes his throat, as you take him in your mouth again. Adam looks around, just for safety, as he made more noise than he expected. There is nobody around, no one looking, you are still in the clear.

He watches you swallowing his thick cock a good two thirds of the way to the base. You felt so perfect, mouth warm and wet, and he can’t help the moan that leaves his mouth. This was so risky, but it felt so good, the adrenaline rush heightening his sensations. Adam watches as you bob your head up and down, the wet noises you are making sounding pornographic as they reach his ears. You work him so well, building up the tight coil in his core, and you hadn’t even taken him all in your mouth. Though, you didn’t even need to, he could already feel his body twitching at the pleasure, hips begging to buck into your soft lips.

You feel Adam’s grip tightening slightly in your hair, a groan rumbling through his body as it falls from his lips. His erection throbs against your lips as you take more of it in your mouth, you could feel the salty taste of precum already spilling from his slit. He was thick and long, and you were struggling to take in all of him, but fuck, you really wanted to. You feel the swollen head of his cock hit the roof of your mouth, so big and hot that it pulls a moan from you, the vibrations going straight to his length. Adam moans out your name, a string of praises falling from his lips.

Bobbing your head up and down, you start to take more of him. You feel his cock throbbing in your mouth as his hips buck up. You can tell he is trying to keep control of his movements, but it’s clearly not going very well. Your lips come close to his base, and he growls, the sinful sound making your core tighten and your body shiver. He starts praising you again, his words emboldening you to move, his thick cock filling up the inside of your mouth, precum leaking vigorously now. Gagging slightly, you feel his cock reaching the back of your throat, his hand caressing your head as his murmurs never cease. When your lips finally circle his base, he shudders under you, whispered praises morphing into an unintelligible moan.

Adam feels himself twitch and throb at the sensation, his erection surrounded by the warm wetness of your mouth. You start moving again, and he has to fight the need to thrust into your beautiful lips. He feels almost delirious as you bob your head, taking him all the way to the balls every time. His dirty praises turn to a string of curses that fall from his lips like mad prayers, the feeling of your wet mouth dragging along his sensitive cock having him in a trace. Your tongue presses just right on the thick vein on his underside, stimulating the sensitive spot until he can’t help the bucking of his hips. 

You could feel his hard length throbbing between your lips, he tastes so damn good, so sinfully delicious. His engorged head hits against your cheeks as you suck, salty precum coating your tongue. The hand on your head grips tighter onto your hair, but he doesn’t try to move you, even though he can’t help the thrusting of his hips anymore. You are moving with ease now, slobbering down his heavy erection, the mix of saliva and pre cum making it all easier. 

He was coming close, you could feel it, his body shaking under your touch and his voice becoming rougher and filled with desire. You begin to feel his thick cock throb and twitch as his hips buck harder. He tasted good, so good, and the feeling of his hot skin against your tongue had you groaning into his length. Adam started to lose himself in moans and praises that spilled out of his perfect lips almost mindlessly. You could feel his powerful legs twitching and trembling from the pleasure.

Adam was panting, the knuckles on the hand he had on the ground turning white. Shit, you felt so damn perfect, mouth wet and hot as you took his cock so fucking well. All he could think of was how perfect you felt, the way you took all of him in your mouth, the throbbing of his length as it rubbed on your tongue, and it was all so damn good. When you groaned into his cock, it was too much to take, the coil within him snapping with a thunderous shudder that shook his whole body. 

The hand on your head held you in place, length buried almost to the hilt in your mouth, swollen head close to the back of your throat as his release began to spill. Rope after thick rope of cum shooting from his tip, flooding your mouth before flowing down your throat as you started to swallow it. It tasted strong and so damn good and there was so much, your core throbbed at the thought of having him filling your pussy with it. You sucked Adam through his orgasm, making sure to milk him to the last drop of his cum before you let him go from your mouth and tucked him back into his jeans.

You closed his pants and belt before coming back up to his eye level again. The moment you did, he pulled you into a harsh kiss, tasting himself in your mouth as you immediately let his tongue inside. The kiss was rough and sloppy and despite having just had his release, Adam still needed more. Pulling away from the wetness of your mouth, he held your face close to his own, strong hand holding you by the strands of your hair, his eyes savoring your red and swollen lips for a second before finding your gaze.

“Fuck, you are so damn good. I’m gonna take you to my hotel room ‘cause I really need to fuck you right now,” his words came in a grunt, voice deep and husky and filled with desire, his mouth was so close to your face that you could feel his breath on you.

You nodded, and that was all the confirmation Adam needed. Getting up in a haste, he pulled you up by the arm, quickly making his way to the entrance of the park. He got you both a cab, keeping you locked in a sloppy kiss as you waited for the car to arrive. The drive to his hotel was short, but you could tell was fighting the need to just ravage you on the way as his hand held your thigh in a strong grip. When you entered the elevator, the two of you were already at each other’s mouths, too needy and desperate to care about the obvious camera watching your intense kiss.

The minute Adam locked the door, you were already working on the buttons of his shirt, pushing him back into the hard wood as your lips found his neck. His skin felt hot to the touch, burning up against your mouth as you trailed your tongue from his shoulder all the way to his jaw. Your hands clumsily opened the first few buttons of his shirt, feeling the soft hairs on his chest brushing against your fingertips. A part of you wanted to rip his shirt open, an animalistic display of desire. But you wouldn’t do it, no matter how much you wanted, and by god you did. His smell had you intoxicated, and you could barely wait to feel him inside you.

With a rough movement, Adam pulled your mouth to his, calloused hands grabbing you by the chin and holding you in place as his lips crashed on yours. Opening your mouth, you let him take what he wanted, because you wanted it so much too. His tongue immediately slipping between your lips, the kiss rough and sloppy. You could still taste the bitterness of the beer in him, accompanied by the slight remnants of the whiskey he’d had at the bar.  The biting sting of alcohol only making the kiss feel all the more erotic.

The hand on your face traveled to the back of your neck, gripping hard to keep you in place, thick fingers digging into your skin. His free hand circled around your waist, pulling you flush into his strong body, closing whatever tiny distance there was between you. His touch was hot, searing iron marking his path around your body, setting your nerves in a burning haze. Your head felt dizzy, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or if you were running out of breath, but god, you couldn’t care less. You wanted more. More of the smell of his skin, more of the taste of his tongue, more of his touch wherever you could have it.

Adam was the one to break the kiss, gasping for air as his strong arms caged your body against his. In the darkness of the room, you couldn’t see his eyes, only feel the heat of his ragged breath on your skin and hear the faint groan slipping from his lips. It sounded raspy and tense, like the promise of something powerful and wild hiding below the surface. Something mysterious and alluring that spoke to a deep part of your mind.

The moment you felt oxygen rush back to your head, your lips found the exposed expanse of his chest. You kissed and licked your way around his heated skin, tasting whatever you could of him as your fingers went back to working on his buttons. He pulled you even closer together, your crotch rutting against his, and you could feel his erection through his jeans. The large bulge rubbing against your pants, your pussy tightening at the thought of having him fully sheathed inside of you.

Your wet tongue against his chest had Adam grunting loudly, sound filling the emptiness of his hotel room. At this rate, you were going to drive him crazy, turn him into something made of only instinct and desire. He could feel your hands opening the buttons on his shirt, slowly inching closer and closer to his crotch, the anticipation building a raging fire within him. By now, he was already painfully hard again, the smell of your hair and the feeling of your body against his own having his blood rushing down in a matter of seconds. It hadn’t been even a full twenty minutes since he’d cum in your mouth back in the park, but he didn’t care, he still felt his balls full, and he needed to unload inside of you again.

Digging his fingers through your locks, Adam pulled on your hair hard, savoring the sweet moan that escaped your plump lips. Bringing your face back to his own, his lips brushed against yours for a long moment before he dove into the kiss, teeth sinking into your lip before he sucked it into his mouth. His hand on your waist traveled lower, grabbing a handful of your ass and groping you hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh through the fabric of your pants. You cried into the kiss and Adam couldn’t help the rutting of his hips against your own, he felt like an animal, but his need was well beyond control at this point.

When his tongue entered your mouth, you moaned again, sound silenced by his greedy lips. You could feel him grunt, the vibrations in his chest reverberating into your hands, powerful muscles shaking under your touch. You worked your way to his last button, hands caressing his heated skin on their way down. When your fingers touched his belt buckle, you felt his hands leave your body, but it lasted only a moment. Soon they found the back of your legs, pulling them up in a swift movement.

You broke away from the kiss, a surprised noise leaving your throat as he pulled you by your thighs, knees coming around his waist. On instinct, your hands found his shoulder, the fear of the fall ringing loud through your ears. Though, you soon realized he had you in a strong hold, barely a noise coming from him as he  lifted your body with ease and started to make his way to the bed. His strong arms held you in place against him, broad shoulders feeling powerful under your soft palms.

In the darkness of the night, you could barely see the outline of the things in the room. The large windows had their curtains open, but there was nearly no moon in the sky today, and you were so high up that almost no buildings could shine a light through the clear glass. You could only believe that Adam was traveling by instinct through the large space, long strides almost unencumbered by your weight. In his arms you felt light as a feather, solid muscle holding you close with ease as he walked.

In a few steps you felt him come to a stop, throwing your body into the large bed, the soft touch of the covers caressing your skin. There was a long moment of stillness as you laid there, watching the outline of his body move in the darkness. You heard a clicking noise and suddenly a dim amber light bathed the bedroom, coming from a floor lamp that stood beside Adam. The warm glow bathed his light skin, beautiful blue eyes darkened by lust. Even the black eye marking his face looked good on him. You only had a second to bask in his wild beauty before he climbed onto the bed, the mattress shaking under his weight.

With a swift movement, Adam pulled his shirt from inside his pants, violently removing it from his body before throwing it aside. That was the first time you got a full look at him under that shirt, solid ropes of muscle rippling under the skin of his arms and shoulders as he moved. Small scratches and bruises adorned his thick torso, whatever this man had gone through, it had left multiple marks. Still, somehow they only made him look better, marred skin only adding to his exquisite pull.

Slowly, Adam crawled over you, large frame covering your body as his face hovered over yours for a long, intense moment. You could feel his hot breath on your skin, the anticipation of this near touch driving you insane before his lips finally crashed on your own. His mouth was as hot as his skin, your hands flying to his chest and shoulders as his tongue tasted everything it could touch. He growled into the kiss, sound dying on your mouth, but the vibrations rolling through his thick chest and into your hands. He was diving into you like a starving man, and you were all too happy to reciprocate.

Holding himself up in one arm, Adam took his free hand to your hips, pulling a part of your shirt from inside your pants before slipping under it. His calloused palms savoring the soft touch of your heated skin. His fingers sunk deep into your tender flesh as they moved up through your curves, taking in as much of your body as he could. You felt so supple under his touch, so welcoming to his large hands as his mouth devoured yours with fervor. The kiss was growing sloppier by the second, tongues and lips wet and warm in a mindless dance. He wanted to sink deep into you, and he didn’t care if he would come back again.

Pulling away from your lips, Adam broke the kiss for air, but in a moment his mouth found the skin of your jaw, kissing his way to your neck. You moaned under his touch, squirming beneath him as he bit into your soft skin, the taste of your body having him intoxicated. He could feel your nails digging into his back, adding to the scratches he’d been given during the match. Your hips bucked against his, giving his large bulge the friction it so desired, stoking the fire burning deep into his core.

His mouth traveled from your neck to your shoulder, kissing and biting a wet trail down to the neckline of your shirt, his beard brushing against your sensitive skin. Without a warning he sat up on his knees, looking down at your body with pure desire before he started hastily taking off your shirt. His thick fingers digging at the waistband of your pants, roughly tugging at the dark fabric. Pulling it free, he slides it over your head and arms as you angle your body to help get the damn thing off. Adam throws it to the side, uncaring about where it lands, eyes finally finding his prize.

Broad hands find your exposed torso, his fingers digging into your curves as darkened blue eyes devour you like a hungry beast. Your skin glistened under the warm glow of the lamp, looking deliciously soft as your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Adam stays still for only a moment, savoring the sight before his hands travel upwards, rough palms committing your warmth to memory. Licking his lips, he finds his target, large fingers groping your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he growls low and dark.

You watch as his eyes follow the movements of his hands, the sound that just left his throat having a shiver running through your body. He is gripping hard on your tender flesh, bordering the threshold of pain but never crossing it. The pleasure is building up slowly, but you still want more, you try to squirm, but he has you pinned under his weight, so heavy that he doesn’t even seem to register your movements. When his fingers find your nipples, rolling them between his index and thumb, you almost scream. The sound that leaves your mouth akin to the cry of a desperate animal.

The noise seems to be what breaks him, Adam’s eyes turning back to your face for a moment before he dives back to your mouth. He descends on you like a wave, lips crashing against yours before you can even close them, tongue slipping inside in a second. You almost feel like you are drowning in him, but you have no desire to resist. His body covers yours completely, one of your hands flying back to his shoulders, nails digging deep. Your other hand travels to the back of his head, fingers threading into his soft hair and tugging tight.

Adam responds with a deep grunt, mouth leaving yours and moving to your breasts, biting and sucking at the soft skin. You feel his hands move to your waist, fiddling with the button of your jeans before finally pulling it open, zipper following suit. His fingertips dig into the skin of your hips, sliding past the fabric of your panties and teasing you with light touches. You try again to squirm under him, earning only a soft groan as his lips finally find one of your nipples, licking and sucking at it with the same hunger he showed your mouth.

Pleasure ripples through your body, a loud moan coming from deep within you, but you still want more. You slip the hand on his shoulder down his naked torso, feeling his warm skin and the hairs on his chest, digging your fingers into whatever you could touch. Soon you reach his pants, going past his leather belt and straight to the bulge straining against his tight jeans. It feels big and hot to the touch, even through the thick fabric. You hear Adam groan under your touch, the animalistic sound only urging you on, hands rubbing and tugging at his clothed cock.

A raspy moan sounds from him, your nipple slipping from his warm mouth as he sits up again, a fast movement that has his blond hair falling to his eyes. With one hand, he brushes it back, gaze fixed on you as he pauses for a moment. Without breaking eye contact, both his hands fall to his belt, undoing the buckle and pulling it out in a flash, the leather snapping as it slips from the hoops. It, too, is thrown to the side with little care, his fingers then finding the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper. You try to reach for him, hands dying to grasp at his cock, but he pulls away, getting up from the bed before finally taking off what was left of his clothes.

God, this man is the most sinful thing you’ve seen in a while. His large frame looms over you, large cock looking delicious, precum already gathering at the tip. Before you can even move, Adam’s hands fly to your hips as he starts to pull on your pants. Soon he has your clothes and shoes in a mess on the floor. You are left bare, fully exposed to his hungry eyes. You reach out to touch him, and he lets you this time. Kneeling before him on the bed, your lips find the skin of his torso, kissing your way down, fingers grasping at his thick cock, lazily moving up and down. Just as your mouth reaches its destination, tongue licking at his sensitive head, getting a shiver out of him, Adam pulls your head back by your hair.

“As much as I really like your mouth,” he breathes out, accent thick as he watches you licking your lips, “I want something else now. Come on, get on your knees for me, darling.”

You shiver at the sound of his voice, following his request and positioning yourself on your hands and knees on the bed, arching your back so your chest touches the covers. You feel the mattress dip under Adam’s weight as he climbs on it, a growl sounding from behind you, deep and rough and dripping with lust. A large hand touches your ass, groping it hard before his grip grows lighter, fingers traveling from your hips to your back in a soft touch that has your pussy aching. You want so much more - need so much more - and not seeing his movements only makes your desire grow.

His hand travels back to your hips, sliding over the curve of your ass as you feel his body coming closer to yours, his hard cock touching your soft skin. You whimper, craving more of his touch, pushing back into him, but his strong hand holds you in place, a humming noise coming from behind you. His free hand finds your inner thigh, and you moan at the light touch. It slides up until it finds your wet pussy, thick fingers diving into your warm flesh with a low growl from him. You arch your back further, whimpering again as he massages your folds and teases your entrance.

Adam feels his fingers slide over your pussy with ease, your wetness coating his hand as his cock twitches in response. A rumble emerges from deep within his chest as the hand on your hips grips harder into the softness of your flesh. He bends his torso over your body, lips touching the skin of your back in warm wet kisses while his thick fingers tease your clit. You moan a soft and breathy sound and Adam drinks it in greedily, the hand on your hip traveling up your torso until it finds your breasts.

His kisses run up your spine, beard teasingly scratching your skin as he moves to your shoulder and neck, sinking his teeth into your skin, savoring its taste. You cry out, pushing your body further against his, rubbing your ass against his sensitive cock, and he growls, a shiver running through his body at the delicious friction. You have him feverish with desire, lust burning bright within his core, and he just can’t take it anymore. Pulling away from your body, his hand goes back to holding you by the hips, the one on your pussy leaving your soft flesh to find his length, pumping himself a couple of times to coat it in your wetness.

He looks at your exposed form in the dim light of the room, lust chasing all the blue from his eyes as they follow your curves. Blown out pupils devour your body as Adam gives himself one last tug before lining his cock with your pussy, sliding it up and down your wetness teasingly with a low groan. You whimper and try to press into him again, this time he gives in, sliding his thick erection almost all the way in. Curses spill from his mouth at the sensation, your soft walls wrapping around him in the most delicious ways.

A husky and needy moan escapes your lips as you feel him entering your body, thick cock filling you up and lighting all your nerves ablaze. He feels so sinfully good, better than you expected, pleasure spreading through your body like wildfire. The hands on your hips grip tighter, and he starts to move, slowly pulling back out before sliding in again. You can feel every bump and vein of his cock dragging against your pussy as he  thrusts further in. That’s when you notice he wasn’t even fully sheathed in you before, his hard length reaching deeper into your body as he stretches your walls.  

His movements are slow and deliberate, dragging your insides on every curve of his cock as he pushes his way in. You feel his swollen head pressing deliciously against your soft walls. This time Adam makes it all the way inside, you feel his hips meet yours as his strong hands pull your ass back against his body, a hiss escaping his lips. Your pussy tightens around his length, the fullness making you whimper, a high pitched noise that almost doesn’t resemble your own voice. 

Adam starts moving again, strokes long and slow as he works himself in you from the tip to the base. You are mewling in pleasure, nails digging into the soft covers of the bed. He sets a hard and heavy rhythm that rocks your hips every time he bottoms out. Your pussy clings to his cock with every slide, walls quivering around his hard length. You feel his fingers sliding down your back until it finds your shoulder, large palm pressing into you into the bed with his weight as his movements start to speed up.

“Fuck, you’re so damn good,” he mutters more to himself than to you, words spilling in a haze as he drives his body violently into yours.

Desire starts taking over Adam’s mind, hips moving faster as your walls pulsate against him, making his cock twitch within you. You feel way too good, and he can’t get enough, rubbing his pelvis against yours as he bottoms out every time. Your ass pushing even further into him as you seek his touch. The sensation of your wet pussy around him, the erotic sound of your moans and whimpers, the feeling of your heated skin on his own, it all has his mind reeling, the coil in his core tightening ever further. 

Using his forearm to hold himself on the bed, Adam curves over your body, covering your back with his broad chest as his hand finds one of your breasts. He traces your neck and shoulders with his mouth, tongue savoring your taste as he lays sloppy kisses and light bites on your sensitive flesh. Sweat starts building between your bodies, heated skin rubbing against each other as you move in rhythm. You tremble under his touch and Adam feels it, feels the moan that rumbles out of your throat, his cock twitching in response. Your cries sound so needy and so sweet, he just can’t get enough.

Adam can feel the soft, warm walls of your pussy tightening around him and pulling a grunt from deep in his throat. His hips hammer against yours, making you spasm with every stroke, your ass pushing into him, trying to take his length even deeper. Biting hard on your shoulder, he moves the hand on your hip down to your core, finding your sensitive clit. His thick fingers slide over your wet cunt, relinquishing your wetness as he massages your folds. You tighten around him impossibly so, his thick cock twitching in response as he growls. Your pussy feels like it was made for him, and he pushes in deep, whole body shuddering as you cry out his name.

You feel like you are going mad under his touch, his weight pressing you against the bed as his fingers massages your clit just right. His body feels molded for yours, the head of his cock hitting your sweet stop with every thrust. Your senses begin to overwhelm you, a tightness in your core getting close to snap faster and faster. A desperate cry sounds from your lips as Adam’s hips snap against yours, your ass pushing further into him. He is muttering curses under his breath, so close to your ear that you feel its warmth, his voice intoxicating you. It only takes one more flick of his finger and you break, crying in a high pitched voice as your senses melt away, vision going white and all you can feel is your pussy convulsing around him.

Your walls tighten around his throbbing cock, Adam riding through your orgasm as your pussy tries to milk him. The  noises you make only pull him closer to the edge, biting into your skin again as he tries to hold on. Pushing himself up in one fluid motion, his hands return to your hips, pulling you to him as his strokes become harder. He is thrusting into you deep and fast, chasing that high that was building in him.

“Atta, girl,” he growls loud and dark, deep voice having you trembling as he thrusts into your oversensitive pussy.

His cock twitches and spasms more now, the coil in his gut tightening close to its limit. A roar leaves Adam’s lips, the sound of a wild thing, a caged beast ready to break away. He thrusts hard into you, breathless whimpers spilling from your soft lips as he slams forcefully into your abused pussy. He wants to mark your insides, the thought of filling you up flooding his mind. A part of him wants to stay like this forever, buried in your soft wetness, fucking your body hard and rough. But he feels his balls tight and heavy and so fucking full, he just can’t help but to chase his release.

Strong hips slam into you, his rhythm growing rougher and more aggressive as he feels himself getting to the edge. He is pulling you impossibly close, pushing his thick length as deep as he can go, and then deeper. You give a breathless moan of his name, walls convulsing around him and it’s all he can take, cock throbbing wildly inside of you. Stars take over Adam’s vision and he drives deep within you, burying his length all the way to the balls. His orgasm hits him with power, a rough and husky groan coming from deep inside his chest as he rides it.

Adam’s cock explodes in you as he fucks your soft pussy, deep thrusts driving his seed deep inside your body. He shoots rope after rope of white, thick cum, a torrent that seems never ending. He drains his heavy balls in you for the second time that night, flooding your pussy as your name slips from his mouth like the prayers of a damned man. Staying still for a second, he lets the high wash over him before pulling out, drinking in the whimper that leaves your mouth at his absence. 

He falls to the side, laying heavy on the bed as you follow suit, both too exhausted to speak. For a minute, you both just stay still, breathing deep as you try to recover. You feel your whole body trembling, but you’ve never felt better before. The bed moves, signaling that Adam had gotten up. You stay still for a few more moments until you feel the mattress dip again, turning to the side to find Adam sitting by you with a towel in hand. The soft blue has returned to his beautiful eyes, the combination of his messy hair and dark bruise on his face looking way too goon on him.

Adam helps you clean up, for someone with such a rough exterior, covered in bruises and scratches, he is the definition of a gentleman. His touch is so light and soft that it seems unimaginably far from the violence with which he’d fucked you just a few minutes prior. It sends a shiver through your spine to think of how powerful these hands are and how gentle they felt. Not that you were complaining, this softness seemed to suit him well. You wouldn’t mind being treated with such tender care every day, especially not by a man as handsome as him.

When you wake up the next morning, sunlight was already entering through the wide windows. Slowly you blinked your eyes, the world coming into focus with little hush. Your body felt a little heavy, a little sore, muscles aching slightly and sinking you further into the soft bed. Despite the ache, you felt good, more relaxed than you felt most mornings. It took a while, but your mind finally came to, remembering the night you’d had before. 

As you really looked around, the first thing your eyes found was the vast expanse of Adam’s back. His light skin marked by multiple cuts and dark bruises that you hadn’t seen the night before. You wondered for a second just what it was that he’d gotten into, what sort of life laid behind this monument of a man. The previous night he’d felt wild, even aggressive, but he never made you feel unsafe. It really made you wonder what else there was to him.

Laying on your back, you stared at the empty ceiling for a second when a thought popped into your head. In the morning bliss, you’d forgotten you had somewhere to be today. Looking around, you spotted your pants, digging through them to find your phone. Checking the time, you saw it was already almost ten in the morning. Damn, you were hoping you could get some wake up sex, but you needed to be at your brother’s by midday. Fuck, he’d even sent you a text already. Just as you were checking the message, you felt a large hand touch your shoulder.

“Shit, I hurt you,” Adam’s voice was low and rough from sleep, his accent sounding thick on his groggy tone, your name spilling from his lips in the sweetest way, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have bitten you so hard.”

You looked back at him, his fingers tracing a spot that stung a bit at his touch. In all honesty, you were barely feeling it, a sign that it probably looked worse than it was. Besides, you didn’t mind it anyway, you wouldn’t have changed a thing from the past night, even if he left a few marks on you.

“It’s ok,” you smiled at him, shaking your head as you turned your body to face his. “Don’t worry, Adam, it’s not hurting.”

“It’s purple,” he interjected, fingers traveling to your chest as he noticed another bruise in your breast, “and there is more than one. Fuck, really, I’m sorry I left you bruised.”

“It’s fine, really,” you whisper, voice soft as you run your thumb over his cheek, right below his bruised eye, “and now we are matching, I guess.”

Adam laughs and the hoarse sound fills the large bedroom, soft blue eyes coming to your own. You feel his large hand snake around your waist, pulling you into his warm body, lips finding your own as you feel his hard cock touch your skin. The kiss starts soft, Adam teasing your lower lip until you finally open your mouth to let his tongue in. This time his touch is slow as he lazily tastes all that his tongue can find. It takes all of your strength to break away from the kiss, your hands coming to his broad chest as you try to create some space. You really can’t leave your brother hanging today.

“You so don’t need to apologize that if I could, I’d let you spend all day giving me more bruises,” you say, sighing dramatically before you continue, “but I really have to go. Gotta visit my brother and nephew, remember?” 

With a sigh of his own, he lets go of your body, laying on his back as you roll to the other side. “If you could, I’d very much take you up on this offer,” he retorts, voice returning to normal as he looks back to you.

“Well,” you start, eyebrows raising as you reach back to the night stand by your side, picking up your phone and waving it in his direction, “I could give you my number if you want, next time you are around you could give me a call.”

His eyes lit up a bit at the offer, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Well, I’d like that very much, doll.”

You watch as Adam goes through his clothes to find his phone. When he does, you give him your number, he immediately sends you a message to make sure you have his contact. If you never see him again, this was a great night, but if you ever have a chance to repeat it, might as well try to grab it. You and him both get dressed pretty quickly, Adam insists on paying for your cab, even when you insisted he didn’t need to, in the end you just accept. He sees you out of the hotel and into the car, and so you make a peaceful trip back home.

It’s already past midday when you get to your brother, you feel bad for running late, but not really quite as much. You may have delayed his family lunch by about forty minutes, but it was for a good cause. Besides, it’s just you, him and his son, so it's not like that many people were harmed by your lateness. Lunch goes by pretty well and you still spend a few more minutes talking as your nephew goes back to the living room. 

When you finally leave the table to go after the boy, you find him lying on the floor watching TV. The large screen glares over the living room and it doesn't take you long to realize he was watching wrestling. Your brother used to love it as a kid, and now so did his son - you had never really gotten that caught up in it. You were about to just disregard what was on the screen until something caught your eye. A recognizable silhouette seen from the corner of your vision. When you look back to the TV, you clearly recognize one of the figures on the screen. He was dressed in a full black cowboy get up, but there was no mistaking it, that was Adam.

In another part of town, Adam made his way through the hall of the large hotel, long strides carrying him from the elevator to the entrance. He was just leaving to go have lunch, it was a bit later than he normally would, but he’d spent most of his morning trying not to let his match with Moxley slip back into his mind. A fight he was ungracefully losing when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Picking it up, he saw it was a message from you, and it had only one line.

‘So, why didn’t you tell me you are a cowboy?’

sponsored by: @xladyxfatex @wanderbreadsworld @madds-97 @morgan-bucks

[tinkerbelldetective]

Misc. Law and Order Aesthetics/Headcanons Continued

Ben Stone looks like a cynic, but he's actually one of the kindest and idealistic men you'll ever meet. If he's not busy, he's willing to help. A comforting hand on the shoulder, a reassuring voice.

Paul Robinette sometimes shares his snacks. This reserved, tall man will help if he can, he'll walk you to your car, buy you lunch if you can't leave the office, and is always a hoot (or should I say honk) to work with when on goose chases. Has been known to help interns study for the LSAT.

Mike Logan is goofy. Has been known to pull a prank or two, watch out for whoopee cushions. Will throw paper airplanes across the precinct just to get a bottle of soda (soda order on the wing with a taped quarter). Have mercy on anybody who messes with his friends or makes you cry. Won't steal food from your desk, but he knows where you keep them.

Greevey can piss you off or make you laugh. But if you need a ride to work or to home or you're stuck, give him a call. Brings in homemade cookies from Marie and gets bogged down during Scout sale season.

Phil Cerretta gives nice hugs. Like Max, he's ready to give you rides to and from work if you need them. Doesn't share food cause people just don't have equivalent trades. The man likes to cook, so don't be surprised if he brings in a whole pot of spaghetti on a random Wednesday. Again, bogged down with Girl Scout cookie orders (even though he thinks they're too expensive). "You're an adult, I'm not responsible for you!" And five seconds later "It's 22° outside, where is your hat? Get a coat on!"

Adam Schiff wants work to be done well. Drinks coffee first thing in the morning and grumbles if the office coffee is changed too often. Stop buying so many different brands. Keeps a cassette player in his office and an assortment of Hank Williams Jr and other folks. Enjoys a nice ham n cheese sandwich for lunch.

[dadsbongos]

“For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

Chapter 5 / Series Masterlist / Previous Chapter

4.7K words

~~

WEDNESDAY. 6:09 PM.

“Did you know that Memphis Minnie was actually the one to originally perform When the Levee Breaks? Led Zeppelin gets a lot of credit for it but it’s really a cover. Memphis Minnie was an electric guitarist and started by playing on the streets when she ran away from home at thirteen,” your fingers fiddle and you’re staring dead into Eddie’s eyes, “She actually died in ‘73, which is pretty recent considering she was performing back in the 20s.”

“Huh,” Eddie nods, curls smushed against the headrest of his seat, “she sounds pretty badass.”

“She was.”

“Did you like the album, though?”

“It was good, yeah,” you nod, “You’ll have to come with me to the record store next time so I know what else to get.”

“I definitely will,” he then gestures outside your window, “but if you’re done stalling - there is a party going on right now.”

You finally swallow your anxieties and look out the glass to the party, “Yeah, I’m done stalling. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, parties are intimidating when you only hang out with your parents.”

“Hey- “ before you can chastise, he begins again.

“If you wanna leave at any time, just let me know, okay?”

“My knight in shining leather,” you sigh dreamily, “but I’ll be okay, sweet Eddie.”

Eddie wants to stay in this van with you the moment you say the pet name. He wants to take you in his hands and kiss you until you’re both breathless. But alas, he doesn’t know how you feel and it’s always safer to let the flirtations roll off than assume that someone is genuinely interested. Especially when you’re the town freak that would only drag her down.

You and Eddie enter the party and you take notice of two things immediately.

You feel bad for whoever’s poor parents own this house.

Nobody greets Eddie Munson.

The most he gets is a few weirded out stares and a handful of groans, which you find especially bizarre because you’re certain that most of these people come crawling to Eddie for drugs (and will be doing so later). 

“The freak,” Eddie tosses his arms out wide at his sides, “has finally arrived for your entertainment, my dear peers!”

You spot a few eyes landing on your face and you see the way their mouths fall open in shock; a few fingers even crook to point at you beside the Eddie Munson.

Eddie takes you to the backyard and sets two lawn chairs below an orange tree, dragging one of the many coolers you spot on the pool deck between them. He takes the right seat and gestures to the left chair for you.

“My usual post,” he clarifies as a boy approaches, “And we have our first official sale of the night!”

You flip the cooler lid open and are greeted with more beer in one spot than your sheltered eyes were ever allowed to see. Sprinkled between glass bottles of alcohol are plastic water bottles. A genuine surprise.

Madonna is busting through the speakers as you hesitantly grab one of the glass bottles. You’d never been allowed so much as a sip of alcohol and you’re feeling eager to finally get some on your lips. You’ve heard beer is godawful and you’ve never been more excited to have some.

Without sparing you a glance, Eddie takes the bottle and pops the tab off with his chair leg before handing it back.

You hate to admit that the action had you oddly heated.

You drink if only to get your mind off of that.

The glass bottle is cool in your palms and you roll it gently between your hands as Eddie finishes his sale. You recognize the boy - Adam? Andy? You can’t remember - vaguely from school, but you recognize him enough to know he’s definitely one of the basketball players that pick on Eddie and his party members.

“Why do you sell to these people?” you couldn’t keep the sneer out of your voice if you tried.

“Business is business, baby,” he throws his hands up and sighs.

It’s silent and for a reason you can’t place the words to - you want to fill it. Just to entertain the entertainer. Make sure Eddie is having fun instead of providing it, for once. You take a swig and grimace at the taste.

“Steve thinks you’re a bad influence,” you mumble. You’re not even drunk yet and you’re spilling your guts - it’s embarrassing, really.

“That isn’t a surprise,” Eddie tilts his own beer to his lips and drinks, “What do you think?”

“I think you’re like a guide,” you’re being earnest but he just chuckles, “No, really! Like, you aren’t pressuring me into anything and I can always stop. You’re like a controlled environment. A designated driver,” you lean over and tap your bottle with his before you can think it through, “but you also partake. A little.”

“Well, thank you. You’re very kind,” he’s playing with the rings on his fingers between sips of beer.

Eddie keeps selling but between customers, he’s so sweet on you, it makes you melt - just a little. Asking if you’re okay, insisting you have water every now and again, making sure you pace yourself as one bottle follows the other into your palm - he owns up to the impromptu role as guide. He’s so good with you.

You tilt your head to watch as he counts what’s left in his lunchbox, “Hey.”

“What’s up, princess?” he puts the box down at his side and tilts his head to match your gaze, “Feelin’ good?”

“Yeah,” you nod, not nearly sunk deep enough in the alcohol to be drunk but enjoying the gentle flames that run over you, “just wondering.”

“About what?”

“Do you like me?” you don’t notice the brief panic that overtakes his features, “Like, would you hang out with me outside of school and going behind my parents’ backs?”

He sits up and nods, “Duh, you’re cool for a valedictorian.”

Now it’s your turn to sit up, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You know you’re supposed to feel offended, but the way he says it and the way he looks at you - like he’s the first person to really be seeing you - makes you laugh. Maybe a little nervous. Mostly flattered.

“Well,” he looks up at the sky through his lashes as he thinks and you take the moment to admire the way his eyelashes flutter, “when I think valedictorian - I think of those rude, posh nerds in movies. The ones that think they’re better than everyone.”

The ones that wouldn’t go near him or Hellfire with ten-inch thick armor.

He doesn’t say it, but the way his tone tatters off from joking to bitter makes it crystal clear.

“But you’re nothing like that,” Eddie grins.

“Oh, what am I like, Eddie?”

“Uh,” he presses his lips together, turning the rings on his fingers as he does so and then snapping when he thinks of the word, “Spellbinding!”

“Is that a word?” you lean forward to grab another beer from the cooler Eddie snagged.

He gasps like you’d told him the secret to eternal life, hands flying to clutch at his collar like it was a priceless pearl necklace, “Do I know something that you don’t?”

“I’m sure you know a lot of things I don’t,” you pop the top of the bottle off with your chair’s leg like you’d seen Eddie do. You look back at Eddie to see him giving you a shit-eating grin, “What does it mean?”

“Holding one's attention completely as though by magic,” he puts up a finger as if to silence a protest that wasn’t coming, “Semicolon - fascinating.”

“Aw,” Eddie waves off the coo while you sip from your beer, “You know what, Eddie? You’re really nice, and I think you should know that.”

“Little ole me?” he raises his brows and then shakes his head, “I’m nothing special.”

“Right. You’re an enigma.”

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he tosses his head back, “you know I don't know what that is.”

You pretend the pet name doesn’t affect you and continue the conversation, “An enigma is a person or thing that is mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand.”

“Ah, and which one am I?”

“Oh, puzzling, for sure.”

“Damn! I’d been hoping for mysterious.”

Another boy in a letterman jacket approaches Eddie. He gives you a bug-eyed, slack-jawed stare and you merely nod while drinking the beer in your hands.

“Don’t hurt yourself staring, man,” Eddie pushes the bag of weed harder into the boy’s hand than necessary, “She’s just enjoying herself like everybody else.”

The boy moves along after paying and a quiet permeates. It isn’t awkward or uncomfortable at all. If anything, you almost appreciate it.

The closeness between you and Eddie makes your skin heat up. Though, to be fair, that could also be the alcohol you’re consuming for the first time.

No, you think as Eddie holds out a water bottle to you, it’s definitely him.

His hands are careful, but shaky. Now that you think of it, his hands are usually shaky - and the idea makes you smile simply because it’s so him.

“So- “ Eddie begins just as you start to say, “When I- “

You both pause and stare at each other before awkward giggles break from your mouths. You take another sip from your beer and gesture across the cooler, “You go.”

Eddie waits for a moment to organize his story and then nods, “When I was in middle school, I went to church- “ you make a dramatic gasp, partially in earnest but mostly to give him shit, “yeah, alright - save audience notes for the end. I went to church in middle school, but I wanted to go to a Black Sabbath concert so bad that I told everyone in my church that God called upon me to spread the gospel at a secular concert,” you clap a hand over your mouth at the admission, eyes wide, “I turned a profit, princess. A profit.”

“Didn’t you need an adult to get in?” you lower your hand as the shock wears off.

“My uncle took me,” he’s grinning as he recounts the day, “I think the craziest thing about that is that he didn’t even ask me how I got the money.”

“No way,” you shake your head, “No way he just didn’t care.”

“I’m telling you,” he raps his knuckles against the polished wood of the lawn chair, “he didn’t. You can ask him.”

When you meet him. He doesn’t say it, but you can see it in his eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to,” you pause and drink from your beer again, “Wanna know something crazy I do?”

“Absolutely.”

“I always sign cards in my best handwriting in case I die and the person it’s to needs a tattoo.”

“That’s not crazy, that’s good planning,” Eddie drinks from his own beer, “I’m gonna start doing that.”

You retrieve yet another bottle from the cooler and pop off the top. Drinking more water when Eddie gives you a look between selling to more douchebags you’ve seen screaming at him for being a so-called freak.

Some of those douchebags leer at you. Put off by your presence not only at the party but also beside Eddie Munson.

You’re glad when they’re gone, at least. Because then Eddie turns back to you to say,

“When I was fifteen, I had to babysit this neighbor kid of mine and they had a dog. I told him it was impolite to let the dog shit alone - because then it feels self-conscious,” your mouth drops open in shock and he nods as if answering your silent questions, “And the next morning, my uncle came home and fucking - “ he scrunches his eyes shut and presses his hands over them, “he yelled so loud.”

You wait until your laughter pauses before speaking, “When I was in kindergarten, I told four boys that whoever finished cleaning up the fastest could marry me because I knew they all had, like, kindergarten boy idiot crushes on me.” 

“Oooh, and who was the lucky groom?”

“That’s the thing, I kept going around the room,” your teeth catch your bottom lip  and you don’t notice the way Eddie’s eyes flip between your lips and eyes, “and I’d make messes of what they already cleaned when they weren’t looking. So my best friend finished cleaning first and then we just played house.”

“Wow,” you relish in the way Eddie’s so quick to grin at your tale, “you little machiavellian.”

“Someone read the dictionary today.”

“Had to prepare, didn’t wanna look like a total fool in front of Ms. Valedictorian.”

A cheerleader comes up this time. You’d seen her throw a styrofoam cup half-full of cola at the windshield of Eddie’s van - while he was driving - once. 

But Eddie just returns to you like he didn’t have to look his tormentors in the eyes every time he wanted to make a deal, “When I was seven, I had to go to a wedding and the groom said Linda when giving his vows. The bride’s name was Betty.”

Your displeasure at your peers fades when he tells you that, like ice-cold water dumped over your shoulders, “Oh my God. What happened?”

He just shrugs, “Dunno, we didn’t hear from them again,” when your eyes only widen, he laughs, “They didn’t die - if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, if my husband-to-be called me by another woman’s name at our wedding. Yeah, I’d be…” your hands flex but you don’t finish the statement.

Whether it’s meant to be teasing or not, you can’t tell when Eddie says, “Nah, I don’t think you have it in you to kill.”

“You don’t?” you swig more beer and he replaces the empty water at your side with a new one from the cooler.

“No way. You’re too smart, you’d find other ways to fuck with him.”

Something ignites at the way he said it. Not that you’re too nice to rue or plot. Even as a joke, it feels nice to know he acknowledges you’re more than one side of the girl-next-door coin.

Though, you suppose, the entire purpose of Eddie showing you his life is to break from that sphere; and Eddie shows you with kindness and patience. He nudges you gently and is always ready to tread back the way you two came.

You think of thanking him. You turn to watch as another girl comes up to buy weed and you see Eddie’s focus on his work. You think about thanking him, but you’re too afraid to get sentimental.

Once you start, you won’t be able to stop and you’re afraid of what you might accidentally tell him.

Like how you like the way his hair falls and the way his brown eyes shine like honey pots in the sunlight.

So you dive into another story once the girl has left.

“When I was thirteen, I got told by my best friend that a rumor was going around that I was pregnant,” his attention snaps back to you, but he’s playing with his rings again, “So… instead of just being like, ‘hey, I haven’t had sex yet so I’m definitely not pregnant’, I took a pregnancy test,” you laugh at your past self and Eddie joins, “I don’t know why I did that. Definitely terrified my mom, though.”

You watch with glee as Eddie tosses his head back as he laughs. His hair sways away from his face and you’re battling your tipsy brain against brushing your fingers through the locks.

So you just keep drinking in hopes of drowning the thoughts.

You only see Steve once, bizarrely enough. He’s with a girl that, when you squint, sort of looks like Nancy Wheeler. You two only lock eyes for a second, you give him a thumbs up and he shakes his head but waves.

8:33 PM.

“I have a confession to make,” you mumble.

“I’m not a priest, but go ahead.”

“My spot as valedictorian,” you turn to Eddie and point at his face and he contemplates just taking the beer from your hand, “not as solidified as everyone thinks.”

“Even drunk, you sound smart. That’s annoying,” Eddie takes a sip of his own beer but nods as if to say ‘go on’.

“Last year, there was a huge final for pre-calc and you know what?” you lean a little closer into his side to whisper, “Nancy Wheeler and I were directly competing against each other.”

His gasp is nothing but melodramatic, eyes widening, “No way.”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, “she just barely got a B and I got an A. I almost lost my mind when those exams were being graded.”

“How’d you celebrate?” he tilts his head and you tilt yours back and he can’t help but find the action adorable.

“I…” you glance at the grass and then back up to him, “didn’t.”

“What?” he shoots upright and once again you copy his motions, his brows furrow, “You beat out Nancy Wheeler in a battle of the brains and didn’t go out ‘n’ celebrate?”

“No, I was busy…” you take another sip of the beer in your hand, though he notices that it’s much smaller than the ones you were taking earlier, “Doing things…”

Studying. Your mother said you should study for the next exam - which wasn’t for months - instead of going out with Robin and Steve like was planned.

“Well,” he raises his beer and waits for you to clink yours against it, “we’re celebrating now. Good job, brainiac.”

“Don’t call me brainiac,” you whine, but he can see the small smile still on your lips, “It sounds so lame.”

“I think it sounds cute,” he disagrees, “Maybe it’s just because it’s you that’s the brainiac,” when you only look at him skeptically, he continues, “I’m serious! It sounds like you’re a cool, evil scientist!” he raises his fingers up as if to frame you in a picture, “Coming soon to theaters - The Brainiac!”

You gently bat his hands down and shake your head, “I wouldn’t be evil, I’d be…” you press your lips together as you search for the word, “benevolent.”

“Yeah?” he takes another sip of beer as you nod.

You scooch a little further down your seat and have what little is left of your beer, a little smile comes over your face as you continue to nod, “Yeah.” 

You didn’t do much partying, but judging from the loud music and how you can see your peers stepping on each other’s feet and yelling just to be heard, you don’t think it’d be your scene. You’ve had fun, though - just sitting next to Eddie. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a long while.

“You ever wonder why you bother with rules?”

“What?” he laughs but you’re dead serious.

“Like,” you toss your head back and stare up at the stars. You think you see some of them glide along the purple blanket of the sky, “we’re just meat sacks on a big floating rock. We’re not even gifted life, it just happens when two people…” you giggle but can’t determine what’s so funny, “fornicate.”

“Is that so, sweetheart?” he leans his head in his hand - more than eager to humor you.

“The reason for our living is just coincidence, right? The Big Bang was a total accident and so are we. Our meaning is whatever we want it to be. So, like, why not do whatever? Let’s just run naked or something. Eat the vegetables in old ladies’ gardens and just live!”

“Yeah, that’s your last beer,” Eddie nods, mostly to himself.

You pout and look up at him through your lashes and he swears he could die right there, “Is my head gonna hurt?”

“I’d bet on it.”

“Boo,” you huff.

Eddie was diligent to follow the one beer an hour rule. And while you didn’t actually drink all that much, it has to be factored in that this is your first time.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he stands in front of you after throwing out the bottles - both alcoholic and water - around you two. He holds his hands out for you to take and hauls you up from your chair, “Ready to go home?”

“No,” suddenly you’re rigid, bordering on sober until you suddenly groan and slip back into his arms, “Mom’s gonna know… I reek.”

“What do you wanna do, sweetheart?” his voice is gentle and he holds you so softly as he helps you stand straight. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen so far and you’re eating it up.

“Where’s Steve?” you look over the backyard and through the windows.

“You wanna stay with Steve?” he also does a sweep of the area, “Alright, let’s go find him, princess.”

Eddie isn’t mature enough to be entirely unaffected by the fact you’d prefer to stay with Steve fucking Harrington, but he thankfully is mature enough to know that it isn’t his place to say anything. You don’t need him to be pissy, you need him to be supportive and he’s more than willing to be right here for you.

Steve’s in the kitchen, one hand wrapped around a red Solo cup (that is only for show, as it’s really filled with water since he was designated driver tonight) and the other brushing his date’s hair behind her ear. 

“Harrington!” Eddie all but sings as he calls to your friend.

“Munson,” Steve’s gaze flickers between you and Eddie, and you can see the way he tenses.

You put a hand on his shoulder, eyes widening as if to show how serious you are as you say, “Shut up. I need a favor.”

“She’s wasted,” Steve points in your face but looks at Eddie.

“Stop, I’m being serious,” you grab Steve’s wrist, “I can’t go home like this or my mom will kill me. Can you call her and tell her I have to stay at your house or something?”

Eddie holds you up as you waver on your feet.

“If I call her, she’ll kill both of us - your mom hates me,” Steve shakes his head.

Then your attention snaps to Steve’s poor, Nancy-lookalike date. Eddie and Steve follow your gaze to the girl.

“Nan- “

Steve quickly cuts you off, “Stephanie,” he flashes her his award-winning grin and pushes back his golden boy hair, “would you mind doing us a favor, please?”

“Like what?” she looks between your trio skeptically.

…

“Hi, this is Robin Buckley,” Stephanie looks over at Steve for reassurance and he nods vigorously, you can just barely make out the sound of your mother’s voice from the other end of the phone, “I sound different? Oh, yeah, sorry, I’m a little sick right now. Uhm, I was just told by your daughter,” she shoots you a questioning stare and you whisper your name to her so she can repeat it into the phone, “that she really has to stay later again. Doesn’t know when she’ll be able to get off but my parents said she can stay the night with us so she doesn’t disturb you. ‘Cuz she’ll definitely be really late. Like super late.”

You wait with bated breath and fiddling fingers as Eddie, once again, stables you on your unsteady feet. 

Stephanie nods and hums, enthusiastically agreeing to whatever your mother is spitting into the receiver. 

“Yes, absolutely. 100%, of course,” Stephanie shuffles closer into a corner of the kitchen when the party behind you gets a little too loud and explains it away as, “Rowdy customers, I’m really sorry,” eventually, she nods excitedly and gives you a thumbs up, “I’ll let her know right away!”

Before your mother gets the chance to say - or hear - anything more, Stephanie slams the phone down and you and Eddie cheer.

“Just call her when you get settled, ‘kay?” she grins and you nod.

“Thank you,” you put up your hands as if in prayer to the human Clementia that stands before you, “Sweet angel.”

“Hey, get her some water and just wait out front,” Eddie’s surprised to hear something akin to pleasantry in Steve’s tone as he speaks to him, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“You got it, Stevie,” Eddie gives the man a mock salute and shuffles you through the crowd after grabbing a water cup.

Once outside, he guides you through other stumbling idiots until you’re at the curb outside of the party.

“I had fun, Eds,” you mumble over the rim of your water glass, “I had lots of fun.”

“That’s good,” he nods, “Next time I’ll make sure you don’t go so overboard, okay?”

Next time.

You tap the toe of your shoe against the concrete sidewalk and bite your lip, just to prevent a smile so wide your cheeks hurt, “‘s okay. I did it.”

“But I should’ve been watching out for you,” he looks down at the walkway and you reach out to gently guide his head up by the chin - sober you will be cringing tomorrow.

“It’s fine, Eds. There’s a first time for everything, right?” you tease.

“That there is, sweetheart,” Eddie takes the glass when it’s empty, “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Fun?” you put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, something else you’ll be groaning at tomorrow, “Without you? Impossible.” 

“You flatter me, sweet thing,” Eddie takes your hand from his shoulder and squeezes it three times as Steve approaches, “Call me when you get to Harrington’s so I know you’re okay. Don’t stop until I pick up, okay?”

“Okay,” you coo, waving Eddie goodbye.

“Come on, Sinatra,” Steve mutters, grabbing you by the arm to lead you to his car.

“Oh, yeah, good 50s reference in the modern era, Harrington,” you grumble.

“Hey, hey,” Stephanie huffs and detaches you from Steve’s grip, “be nice, she’s drunk.”

“Yeah, Steve,” you snicker when he rolls his eyes.

“Always the babysitter,” he pulls open one of the back doors to his car, “You’re old enough to vote and yet I’m babysitting you.”

“Hush,” Stephanie carefully loads you into the backseat of Steve’s car before getting in herself.

“Really?” Steve turns when he notices his date would rather be by you than him.

She shrugs and sticks her tongue out at him, pulling a giggle from you. Your head falling back onto the seat rests, your eyes cling tiredly to the soda-stain speckled roof of your friend’s BMW. 

Steve was ranting to you and Robin about it for months when Mike and Lucas accidentally splattered cola in his backseat. You chuckle just thinking about it.

Steve drops off Stephanie, who wishes you easy recovery as she leaves, before taking you to his house.

9:09 PM.

You amble to Steve’s phone in the kitchen while he gets clothes ready for you tomorrow.

It takes two rings before Eddie picks up.

“Hey, princess,” he sounds so tired, you feel bad he must’ve been waiting. Or began falling asleep.

“Hi. Just wanted to call… ‘cuz you said to.”

Steve returns to the kitchen and takes the phone from your hand, resulting in a grousing ‘Hey!’ from you.

“She’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wow,” you cross your arms as he hangs up the phone, “talk about rude.”

“I think he’ll live,” Steve’s motherly instincts are kicked up high tonight. They had been since you first told him you were hanging out with Eddie. 

He wants you to be happy, but even so - Eddie is off-putting to him. Doesn’t trust him at all, especially not with you: You, who has the chance to get out of Hawkins like he never did. He doesn’t want you to be working at Family Video with him forever, you don’t deserve that.

“Go sleep for a few hours,” Steve guides you up his stairs and to his guest bedroom - he supposes that he should be glad his parents agreed to pay off the house despite refusing college, “I’ll wake you up later to call your mom and tell her you got off work.”

You can only nod - besotted - as Steve pulls back the comforters of the guest bed for you.

“Sleep well, nerd,” he pats the edge of the bed, “You know where my room is if you need me.”

Steve doesn’t want you to be miserable so, of course, he won’t bother trying to separate you and Eddie. That would be ridiculous. 

He just wishes you would be as wary of how other people could impact your future as he should’ve been.

~~

Taglist @homiesexual-or-homosexual @chainsaw-man-inserts @juggernort @efvyqrs 4 u <3

[icedragone]

Couple of 10s

“Bet you I can get those ladies numbers.” Beca says, wiping the sweat from her brow before putting her hair in a ponytail and pulling it through the gap in the back of her baseball cap that she settles on her head.

"Do you mean at the same time or..." Stacie asks with a breathy chuckle as she gets off the treadmill, accepting a towel from Beca to wipe the sweat from her neck and chest.

"Yeah, at the same time."

"Beca, even I couldn't pull that off and you've seen me." Stacie says, amused and slightly concerned about the huge boost in confidence she's seen in her shorter friend in the last few weeks.

"I can so do it." Beca smirks, taking a drink from her water bottle.

She has always had an aversion to exercise, so she surprised herself when she managed to keep up a steady four day a week schedule at the gym for the last two months. It was on a Wednesday that she lost a bet to Stacie, which her punishment was joining her for a gym session the next day. She had to do all the activities her taller friend did for the same amount of time she did. She feels like she almost died, she was so out of breath and sore after. But then, the blonde and redhead came in just as she was hobbling to the showers. Beca didn't know why, but she just knew she had to get to know them.

She's a chicken shit though. So, instead of talking to them that day, she came back the next Tuesday with Stacie. She almost thought they weren't going to be there, but then they walked in 20 minutes later. Beca tried not to be some creeper, but she couldn't help when her eyes wandered on occasion to them. She noticed they seemed to be about as fit as Stacie, working through weights roughly double what Beca was and running the treadmill longer and faster.

Beca knew if she was going to have a chance with either of them, she'd have to get her shit together and get in shape. So, to avoid Stacie and embarrassing herself in front of the most attractive women she's ever seen, she started going to the gym on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sunday's workout. She even did research, investing in the best reviewed pre and post workout supplements and started eating healthier.

Even though she lives with Stacie, she managed to keep these things from her best friend. Stacie is majoring in biomedical engineering, so has a heavy school load and internship at a top tissue engineering company. Beca is majoring in music production and has her internship at the top studio in the South. Lately, they only see each other for about an hour before bed and on Saturdays for their DVR clearing nights.

"Alright, what do you get if you win?" Stacie asks, already knowing what she's asking for in her inevitable victory.

"When I win, you do all the dusting and dishes for the next six months." Stacie isn't surprised by this, since those are Beca's least favorite chores.

"Okay, and when I win, you gotta make that song I've been asking for since sophomore year of high school." Stacie says, a smug smile on her face.

Stacie has been begging Beca to make a song, lyrics and all, for her to put at the top of her sex playlist for five years now. Beca is adamant about not doing it, turning beet red each time it's brought up. Stacie has every confidence Beca is capable of doing it (very well, based on what she's heard coming from her bedroom the few times she's had a girlfriend over), but she's embarrassed to write something as dirty as Stacie would expect. So, each time they make a bet that Stacie knows is a sure thing on her end, that's what she requests. And every time, Beca immediately backs down.

"Deal." Beca says without hesitation.

"Wait, what?" Stacie asks, completely thrown off guard.

"I win, you do dishes and dusting for six months. You win, you get your sex song." Beca simplifies, now sporting her own smug smirk.

"Uh, okay. Well, get to it then. I've been waiting half a decade for an original Beca Mitchell spank track." Stacie says, finally snapping back into her usual confident self.

With just her smirk as a reply, Beca wanders over to the gorgeous blonde and redhead currently chatting by the kettle balls while sipping from their water bottles. The blonde is wearing purple leggings that really accentuate her perfect ass, and a purple tank top that shows off her toned arms. The redhead has on hot pink leggings that come to mid calf, showing off the same asset as the blonde, and a grey tank top with the sides cut low.

The blonde sees Beca first and nudges her friend to get her to stop talking. The brunette takes a breath, looking down for a moment to settle the nerves that are creeping back the closer she gets. While her eyes are down, she doesn't catch the the other two women bite their lower lips to stifle smiles. They get their expressions under control just as Beca looks up again, stopping a couple feet away.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me out with something?" Beca asks, having worked on this pick up line for a month now.

"Sure, how can we help you? I'm Chloe, by the way. And this is Aubrey." The redhead answers, doing a poor job of hiding her excitement.

"I'm Beca." She says, relaxing a little at how well things are going so far. "I was gonna do some squats, but needed help with the weights, if you two don't mind?"

"We can do that. How much are you trying to squat?" The blonde, Aubrey, offers this time.

"A couple of 10s." Beca points a finger out and gestures it between Aubrey and Chloe.

She let's out an internal sigh of relief when Chloe gives a delighted laugh and even Aubrey, who she noticed gives off serious HBIC energy and has RBF to rival her own, fights her own smile.

"So, is that your way of hitting on us? Does that usually work for you?" Aubrey asks, and Beca deflates a little bit at her tone.

"Uh, maybe? I've never tried that before..." Beca answers, not having planned much on that not working.

"What were you hoping to accomplish? Get one of our numbers and go brag to your friend over there?" Aubrey is on a roll, tearing down the confidence Beca built up over the last couple of months in a matter of seconds.

"Um, both of your numbers actually. And maybe a date. Not for any bragging rights, although I kind of did bet my roommate that she'd have to do some of my chores if I got them. That wasn't really my intention coming over here though..." Beca answers quietly, eyes flicking between both women.

Aubrey just continues scowling at her, looking entirely unimpressed now. The trace of amusement when Beca first used the line completely evaporated. Chloe is pouting slightly, eyes flicking between Beca and Aubrey. So, when neither respond Beca just slumps her shoulders and gestures behind her.

"Alright, now that I've fully embarrassed myself, I'm just gonna go. Uh, sorry I bothered you."

"Bree." Chloe pleads, finally saying something beyond the initial greeting a few minutes ago.

"Tell you what, Beca. If you can squat us 'couple of 10s', we'll give you our numbers." Aubrey sighs, rolling her eyes at the whine Chloe let's out.

"Bree, she's so tiny. And you watched her same as me that day a couple months ago. She does cardio. No way she can hold herself up with both of us hanging off her, let alone squat." Chloe thinks she whispers, but Beca has developed a keen ear and hears it all. She tries not to feel too offended, knowing she is about to prove them wrong about judging her on her size.

Aubrey is much better at keeping her voice down, so Beca doesn't hear her response. But, whatever it was, it seems to ease Chloe's worries. Which in turn boosts Beca's confidence again. It's not hard to see that Chloe wants to get to know Beca as much as the brunette does them.

"So, how do you want to do this?" Beca asks, breaking thier little huddle. "I mean, not that I like this idea of using getting your phone numbers as some kind of prize."

"I can get on your shoulders first. If you can manage that, then you can hold Chloe up in front of you. You have to do five squats without dropping us." Aubrey says, a challenging look in her eye.

"Okay, let's go." Beca says, stretching her legs quickly then squatting down and gesturing at Aubrey to get on her shoulders.

Beca bites her lip to hide a smile, feeling satisfied at making Aubrey squeek at how quickly and easily she stands up with the blonde on her shoulders. She also thinks it's insanely cute. Once she's settled, her hands holding onto the blondes thighs (Beca is trying to not think of how they'd feel around her head another way), she nods her head for Chloe to get on next.

Biting her lip, the redhead scans over them to figure out the logistics of how this will work. "I think it'll be best if I hold onto Aubrey, and you hold me up. Step back a bit, then Bree hold the bar above you to keep your balance."

Doing as instructed, Chloe manages to hop up and wrap her legs around Beca's waist, who immediately catches her around her thighs, after they made sure Aubrey had a good hold on the pull up bar. Chloe manages to stifle a moan at the feel of being wrapped around the sexy brunette, but only just. She then wraps her hands around Aubrey's waist, while Beca keeps a firm hold under Chloe's thighs, and Aubrey tentatively let's go of the bar and holds onto the redhead's shoulders.

"Alright, you two ready? Five reps, right?" Beca asks, trying valiantly to keep any strain from her voice.

Once she gets the go ahead, Beca makes it through all five squats, only starting to really struggle on the last one. Once done, Aubrey grasps the bar above her again so Chloe can clamber back off. Beca squats back down, really feeling the burn now, to let the blonde down without having to jump. Beca preens when she sees the shocked look on both of their faces, but even more so because of the seemingly hard to impress blonde.

"Well, I was not expecting that. I think you've definitely earned this and that date. We're free this weekend." Chloe winks and whispers the last part, pulling out a piece of paper from her wallet phone case.

Beca unfolds the paper and can't help but smile at the two phone numbers written in neat handwriting with little hearts around them. Below is written:

For the hot brunette ;)

"You two just wanted to see how far I'd go, huh? You were already planning on giving this to me." Beca states, rather than asks.

"We will not confirm nor deny. Now, I do believe you have a date to plan." Aubrey smirks, flicking her hand at Beca in a shooing motion.

Beca steps away without a word, sporting what she would later describe to herself as a stupid smile on her face. She immediately pulls out her phone and inputs both of their numbers into a new group message, not adding their contact details yet in her haste.

Beca: Don't worry, Aubrey. I've had the perfect date planned for us for months. Just tell me the time and day 😘

"Where the fuck did that come from? Did you seriously get their numbers? What just happened?" Stacie is too shocked to even realize Beca has grabbed her things and is walking away toward the showers.

"I'm gonna need you to not be home for a few hours tonight." Beca says as she holds up her phone with a big, smug smile on her face.

Chloe: How about tonight? Is that too soon? 🙃

Aubrey: Chloe, please contain yourself.

Chloe: Bree, don't act like you're not eager to see what she's come up with.

Chloe: Or not turned on after that display. 🥵

Aubrey: CHLOE!

Aubrey: .... So, is tonight good? 🙄

Beca: Come to my place at 7. I hope you two like pasta and music. 🍝🎧

Inspired by the below TikTok I saw months ago. I planned on writing this right away, but my phone died literally as I was going to hit post. I lost it all. So, I just now got the motivation to write it again.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTdEmyvgF/?k=1

[kissmeau]

Autumn's father took good care of him after he was born for about a year. It's the main reason Autumn was able to have appropriate cognitive and motor skill development and the opportunity to create a better attachment style in the future.

Autumn bonded with his dad as a baby, receiving warmth, food, and care. Autumn's father would conversate with him about his mother and tell some of the stories he would want to write —the nice parts of the horrors. He was a wanted child, and in the end, both his parents were excited to welcome him into the world. Autumn was swimming in a pool of love and eagerness.

But as soon as he could walk and hold his feeding bottle, Autumn's father realized his son was his own person and not an extension of his wife. So Autumn would, eventually, leave him. It was terrifying and irrational, but he couldn't control the despair. It was similar to when his family kicked him out and when he lost his wife. He couldn't endure the idea of the future, but he found relief in whisky and rum. It got so bad at some point he would drink mouthwash in the absence of alcohol, ending up in the hospital. Autumn was left alone at home without explanation.

Autumn sought his father plenty of times, he searched for the emotional connection he inadvertently felt as a baby, but he would either get no response or a furious response. However, he would still try to engage in a conversation, talk about the TV shows, ask for food, and demand his basic needs were met. But nothing. Nothing came from his father rather than moldy bread and overcooked instant noodles.

Autumn would cry a lot, unable to name his feelings. He was baffled, a toddler with no behavioral references. Then, the bad guys showed up when he was four years old. They weren't meant to lay a finger on him, the one with the debt was Adam, his father, but he tried to protect him. He tried to defend him all the time. He wanted his father's well-being above his —subconscious gratitude from his first year of life. Until the day he asked his father for a gun, and his father did nothing but laugh at him.

Autumn was no longer protecting his father when the bad guys came in. But he was still beaten; he became part of the deal. But, every time he was punched and washed his wounds, he thought of making them pay. It's when his hygiene habits became obsessive. They could have put their filthy power on his skin, but Autumn would erase it with patience and dedication. He would fantasize about the final blow as the water from the shower fell above his body and scrubbed his body with soap to the point of irritation.

Autumn's ideas of revenge were terrible, horrific, bloody, and twisted. But, for him, they were alright. The bad guys didn't deserve mercy; his father did not either. When his father died, it was Monday, and that was it: Monday. When he killed the bad guys, that's what it was meant to be for that Wednesday. Up to this day, Autumn sees no wrongdoing in his actions.

It was, it is, and will always be: Vindication.

[brookston]

Holidays 1.31

Holidays

Appreciate Your Social Security Check Day

Backwards Day

Brexit Day (UK)

Broccoli Day (French Republic)

Child Labor Day

Dicing for Maid's Money Day (Surrey, UK)

Eve of Brigantia (Ireland)

Final Fantasy VIII Day (Japan)

Feast of Great Typos

Hell Is Freezing Over Day

Hug an Economist Day

Inspire Your Heart With Art Day

International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Men & Boys

International Day of the Magicians

International Omphalocele Awareness Day

International Street Children’s Day

International Zebra Day

Jackie Robinson Day

Me-Dam-Me-Phi (Assam, India)

National Appreciation Day for Catholic Schools

National Bug Busting Day (UK)

National Gorilla Suit Day (Don Martin, in Mad Magazine)

National Music Therapy Day (Mexico)

National Pick on Lindsay Day

National Punk Day

National Seth Day

Play An Old Game You Haven't Played In Years Night

Rabbit Rabbit Day [Last Day of Every Month]

Saint Brigid’s Eve (Ireland)

Scotch Tape Day

Street Children's Day (Austria)

St. Veronus' Day (patron saint of Lembeek & Belgian brewers)

Thermos Bottle Day

Train Hijacking Day

Tupiza New Year (Indigenous Bolivia)

Twist Off Cap Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Brandy Alexander Day

Day of Russian Vodka

Eat Brussels Sprouts Day

National Hot Chocolate Day

World Vegan Chocolate Day

5th & Last Wednesday in January

Bell Let’s Talk Day (Canada) [Last Wednesday]

Independence & Related Days

Ladoland (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Nauru (from Australia, 1968)

Varladia (Declared; 2022) [unrecognized]

New Year’s Days

Año Nuevo en Tupiza (Tupiza New Year; Indigenous Bolivia)

Festivals Beginning January 31, 2024

Calabash South Africa (Capetown, South Africa)

Carnival of Santa Cruz de Tenerife (Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Spain) [thru 2.18]

Cattlecon (Orlando, Florida) [thru 2.2]

Festival of Literature (Dubai, UAE) [thru 2.6]

La Folle Journée (Nantes, France) [thru 2.4]

NBBQA (National Barbecue & Grilling Association) National Conference (San Antonio, Texas) [thru 2.3]

Southern Farm Show (Raleigh, North Carolina) [thru 2.2]

Feast Days

Adamant of Coldingham (Christian; Saint)

Amartithi (Meher Baba; India)

Anacreon (Positivist; Saint)

Banyu Pinaruh (Water Purification Ceremony; Bali)

Celebration of the Triple Goddess (Goddess of the Moon and the Seasons; Old European Lunar New Year) [Thru 2.3]

Cyrus and John (Christian; Martyrs)

Day of Hecate (Goddess of Crossroads; Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Dicing for Maid’s Money (Guildford, UK)

Disablot (Norse celebration of new beginnings)

Disfest (Sacrifice Honoring the Disir, all female relatives from forever)

Domitius (Domice) of Amiens (Christian; Saint)

Eusebius (Christian; Martyr)

Feast of Isis (Ancient Egypt)

Festival of Transmission Errors

Francis Xavier Bianchi (Christian; Saint)

Geminianus (Christian; Saint)

Honey Badger Avoidance Day (Pastafarian)

Imbolc Eve (Celtic Book of Days)

Imbolc Eve: Day of the Bean Sidhe (Pagan)

John Bosco (Christian; Saint)

Julius of Novara (Christian; Saint)

Ludovica (Christian; Blessed)

Máedóc (a.k.a. Maidoc, Mogue, Aidan, Aiden; Christian; Saint)

Marcella (Christian; Saint)

Mary the Gorilla (Muppetism)

Max Pechstein (Artology)

Me-Dam-Me-Phi (Ahom Veneration of the Dead; Assam, India)

Navajo Sing (Preparation Festival for Coming Agricultural Season) [Through 2.8]

Nicetas of Novgorod (Christian; Saint)

Norman Mailer (Writerism)

Peter or Pedro Nolasco (Christian; Saint)

Rodolphe Töpffer (Artology)

Samuel Shoemaker (Episcopal Church (USA))

Seapion (Christian; Saint)

Theodore Kaczinski Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Tysul (Christian; Saint)

Ulphia (Christian; Virgin)

Valkyries’ Day (Norse)

Veronus  (Christian; Saint) [Lembeek & Belgian brewers]

Wilgils (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 31 [11 of 72]

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

Ali Baba (ComicColor Cartoon; 1936)

All My Children (TV Soap Opera; 1949)

The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman (TV Film; 1974)

Barney’s Hungry Cousin, featuring Barney Bear (MGM Cartoon; 1953)

Being and Time, by Martin Heidegger (Philosophy Book; 1927)

Bellerophon, by Jean-Baptiste Lully (Opera; 1679)

Black Sunday, by Thomas Harris (Novel; 1975)

Cheerful Little Pierful or Bomb Voyage (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S1, Ep. 19; 1960)

Down and Out in Beverly Hills (Film; 1986)

Family Guy (Animated TV Series; 1999)

Gia (Film; 1998)

The Green Hornet (Radio Series; 1936)

Key & Peele (TV Series; 2012)

The Lone Ranger (Radio Series; 1933)

McDougal’s Rest Farm (Terrytoons Heckle & Heckle Cartoon; 1947)

A Mouse Divided (WB MM Cartoon; 19353

Mr. & Mrs. Smith (Film; 1941)

Murphy’s Romance (Film; 1986)

Mystery Girl, by Roy Orbison (Album; 1989)

Pagan Moon (WB MM Cartoon; 1932)

A Perfect Day for Bananafish, by J.D. Salinger (Short Story; 1948)

Ragnarok (TV Series; 2020)

The Saint on the Spanish Main, by Leslie Charteris (Short Stories 1955) [Saint #31]

The Soup Song, featuring Flip the Frog (Ub Iwerks Cartoon; 1931)

The Spiderwick Chronicles (Film; 2008)

Summer Squash or He’s Too Flat for Me (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S1, Ep. 20; 1960)

Teddy, by J.D. Salinger (Short Story; 1953)

These Are My Children (TV Soap Opera; 1949) [1st TV Soap Opera]

Thoughts In Solitude, by Thomas Merton (Spiritual Book; 1956)

The Village Smitty, featuring Flip the Frog (Ub Iwerks Cartoon; 1931)

The Witness for the Prosecution, by Agatha Christie (Short Story; 1948)

The Wonder Years (TV Series; 1988)

Today’s Name Days

Johannes, Marcella (Austria)

Ivan, Julije, Vanja (Croatia)

Marika (Czech Republic)

Vigilius (Denmark)

Meeland, Meelik, Meelis, Meelit, Meelitu, Meelo, Meelu (Estonia)

Alli (Finland)

Marcelle (France)

Johannes, Marcella, Rudbert (Germany)

Evdoxia, Kyros (Greece)

Gerda, Marcella (Hungary)

Geminiano, Giovanni (Italy)

Dekla, Jalna, Tekla, Tikla, Violeta (Latvia)

Astra, Budvilė, Marcelė, Skirmantas (Lithuania)

Idun, Ivar (Norway)

Cyrus, Euzebiusz, Jan, Ksawery, Ludwik, Marceli, Marcelin, Marcelina, Piotr, Spycigniew, Wirgiliusz (Poland)

Chir, Ioan (Romania)

Ksenia (Russia)

Emil (Slovakia)

Juan, Marcela (Spain)

Ivar, Joar (Sweden)

Cyrus, Kira, Kyra, Lona, Loni, Lonnie, Scarlett, Zane (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 31 of 2024; 335 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 3 of week 5 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Luis (Rowan) [Day 11 of 28]

Chinese: Month 12 (Yi-Chou), Day 21 (Jia-Wu)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 21 Shevat 5784

Islamic: 20 Rajab 1445

J Cal: 1 Grey; Oneday [1 of 30]

Julian: 18 January 2024

Moon: 71%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 3 Homer (2nd Month) [Anacreon)

Runic Half Month: Elhaz (Elk) [Day 7 of 15]

Season: Winter (Day 42 of 89)

Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 10 of 28)

Calendar Changes

Grey (Month 2 of 12; J Calendar)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 1.31

Holidays

Appreciate Your Social Security Check Day

Backwards Day

Brexit Day (UK)

Broccoli Day (French Republic)

Child Labor Day

Dicing for Maid's Money Day (Surrey, UK)

Eve of Brigantia (Ireland)

Final Fantasy VIII Day (Japan)

Feast of Great Typos

Hell Is Freezing Over Day

Hug an Economist Day

Inspire Your Heart With Art Day

International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Men & Boys

International Day of the Magicians

International Omphalocele Awareness Day

International Street Children’s Day

International Zebra Day

Jackie Robinson Day

Me-Dam-Me-Phi (Assam, India)

National Appreciation Day for Catholic Schools

National Bug Busting Day (UK)

National Gorilla Suit Day (Don Martin, in Mad Magazine)

National Music Therapy Day (Mexico)

National Pick on Lindsay Day

National Punk Day

National Seth Day

Play An Old Game You Haven't Played In Years Night

Rabbit Rabbit Day [Last Day of Every Month]

Saint Brigid’s Eve (Ireland)

Scotch Tape Day

Street Children's Day (Austria)

St. Veronus' Day (patron saint of Lembeek & Belgian brewers)

Thermos Bottle Day

Train Hijacking Day

Tupiza New Year (Indigenous Bolivia)

Twist Off Cap Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Brandy Alexander Day

Day of Russian Vodka

Eat Brussels Sprouts Day

National Hot Chocolate Day

World Vegan Chocolate Day

5th & Last Wednesday in January

Bell Let’s Talk Day (Canada) [Last Wednesday]

Independence & Related Days

Ladoland (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Nauru (from Australia, 1968)

Varladia (Declared; 2022) [unrecognized]

New Year’s Days

Año Nuevo en Tupiza (Tupiza New Year; Indigenous Bolivia)

Festivals Beginning January 31, 2024

Calabash South Africa (Capetown, South Africa)

Carnival of Santa Cruz de Tenerife (Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Spain) [thru 2.18]

Cattlecon (Orlando, Florida) [thru 2.2]

Festival of Literature (Dubai, UAE) [thru 2.6]

La Folle Journée (Nantes, France) [thru 2.4]

NBBQA (National Barbecue & Grilling Association) National Conference (San Antonio, Texas) [thru 2.3]

Southern Farm Show (Raleigh, North Carolina) [thru 2.2]

Feast Days

Adamant of Coldingham (Christian; Saint)

Amartithi (Meher Baba; India)

Anacreon (Positivist; Saint)

Banyu Pinaruh (Water Purification Ceremony; Bali)

Celebration of the Triple Goddess (Goddess of the Moon and the Seasons; Old European Lunar New Year) [Thru 2.3]

Cyrus and John (Christian; Martyrs)

Day of Hecate (Goddess of Crossroads; Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Dicing for Maid’s Money (Guildford, UK)

Disablot (Norse celebration of new beginnings)

Disfest (Sacrifice Honoring the Disir, all female relatives from forever)

Domitius (Domice) of Amiens (Christian; Saint)

Eusebius (Christian; Martyr)

Feast of Isis (Ancient Egypt)

Festival of Transmission Errors

Francis Xavier Bianchi (Christian; Saint)

Geminianus (Christian; Saint)

Honey Badger Avoidance Day (Pastafarian)

Imbolc Eve (Celtic Book of Days)

Imbolc Eve: Day of the Bean Sidhe (Pagan)

John Bosco (Christian; Saint)

Julius of Novara (Christian; Saint)

Ludovica (Christian; Blessed)

Máedóc (a.k.a. Maidoc, Mogue, Aidan, Aiden; Christian; Saint)

Marcella (Christian; Saint)

Mary the Gorilla (Muppetism)

Max Pechstein (Artology)

Me-Dam-Me-Phi (Ahom Veneration of the Dead; Assam, India)

Navajo Sing (Preparation Festival for Coming Agricultural Season) [Through 2.8]

Nicetas of Novgorod (Christian; Saint)

Norman Mailer (Writerism)

Peter or Pedro Nolasco (Christian; Saint)

Rodolphe Töpffer (Artology)

Samuel Shoemaker (Episcopal Church (USA))

Seapion (Christian; Saint)

Theodore Kaczinski Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Tysul (Christian; Saint)

Ulphia (Christian; Virgin)

Valkyries’ Day (Norse)

Veronus  (Christian; Saint) [Lembeek & Belgian brewers]

Wilgils (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 31 [11 of 72]

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

Ali Baba (ComicColor Cartoon; 1936)

All My Children (TV Soap Opera; 1949)

The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman (TV Film; 1974)

Barney’s Hungry Cousin, featuring Barney Bear (MGM Cartoon; 1953)

Being and Time, by Martin Heidegger (Philosophy Book; 1927)

Bellerophon, by Jean-Baptiste Lully (Opera; 1679)

Black Sunday, by Thomas Harris (Novel; 1975)

Cheerful Little Pierful or Bomb Voyage (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S1, Ep. 19; 1960)

Down and Out in Beverly Hills (Film; 1986)

Family Guy (Animated TV Series; 1999)

Gia (Film; 1998)

The Green Hornet (Radio Series; 1936)

Key & Peele (TV Series; 2012)

The Lone Ranger (Radio Series; 1933)

McDougal’s Rest Farm (Terrytoons Heckle & Heckle Cartoon; 1947)

A Mouse Divided (WB MM Cartoon; 19353

Mr. & Mrs. Smith (Film; 1941)

Murphy’s Romance (Film; 1986)

Mystery Girl, by Roy Orbison (Album; 1989)

Pagan Moon (WB MM Cartoon; 1932)

A Perfect Day for Bananafish, by J.D. Salinger (Short Story; 1948)

Ragnarok (TV Series; 2020)

The Saint on the Spanish Main, by Leslie Charteris (Short Stories 1955) [Saint #31]

The Soup Song, featuring Flip the Frog (Ub Iwerks Cartoon; 1931)

The Spiderwick Chronicles (Film; 2008)

Summer Squash or He’s Too Flat for Me (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S1, Ep. 20; 1960)

Teddy, by J.D. Salinger (Short Story; 1953)

These Are My Children (TV Soap Opera; 1949) [1st TV Soap Opera]

Thoughts In Solitude, by Thomas Merton (Spiritual Book; 1956)

The Village Smitty, featuring Flip the Frog (Ub Iwerks Cartoon; 1931)

The Witness for the Prosecution, by Agatha Christie (Short Story; 1948)

The Wonder Years (TV Series; 1988)

Today’s Name Days

Johannes, Marcella (Austria)

Ivan, Julije, Vanja (Croatia)

Marika (Czech Republic)

Vigilius (Denmark)

Meeland, Meelik, Meelis, Meelit, Meelitu, Meelo, Meelu (Estonia)

Alli (Finland)

Marcelle (France)

Johannes, Marcella, Rudbert (Germany)

Evdoxia, Kyros (Greece)

Gerda, Marcella (Hungary)

Geminiano, Giovanni (Italy)

Dekla, Jalna, Tekla, Tikla, Violeta (Latvia)

Astra, Budvilė, Marcelė, Skirmantas (Lithuania)

Idun, Ivar (Norway)

Cyrus, Euzebiusz, Jan, Ksawery, Ludwik, Marceli, Marcelin, Marcelina, Piotr, Spycigniew, Wirgiliusz (Poland)

Chir, Ioan (Romania)

Ksenia (Russia)

Emil (Slovakia)

Juan, Marcela (Spain)

Ivar, Joar (Sweden)

Cyrus, Kira, Kyra, Lona, Loni, Lonnie, Scarlett, Zane (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 31 of 2024; 335 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 3 of week 5 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Luis (Rowan) [Day 11 of 28]

Chinese: Month 12 (Yi-Chou), Day 21 (Jia-Wu)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 21 Shevat 5784

Islamic: 20 Rajab 1445

J Cal: 1 Grey; Oneday [1 of 30]

Julian: 18 January 2024

Moon: 71%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 3 Homer (2nd Month) [Anacreon)

Runic Half Month: Elhaz (Elk) [Day 7 of 15]

Season: Winter (Day 42 of 89)

Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 10 of 28)

Calendar Changes

Grey (Month 2 of 12; J Calendar)

[gungemastersblog]

The naughty list the prankster

Next on Santa's list was prankster Adam b again he was a nice enough guy but was allways pranking people so Santa decided to give him a taste of his Own medicine by pranking him for a whole week each day would be a different prank there would start small and get worse he would start on the Monday then on Sunday the final day Adam b had a date so Santa was going to do all six pranks to him in on day

Monday-chilli sauce prank

On the first day Santa laced all of Adams drink and food with chilli sauce this was a simple but funny prank Adam got up and had a drink of milk right away he spite it out then he went for a meal with his family his mouth was on fire but he tried not to show then back at home he was almost sick in his bathroom he thought maybe his brother had pranked him

Tuesday-the smelly feet prank

For this prank Santa used a magic spray gun called cheesy feet he spayed it all over Adams feet and his socks while he was asleep for good measure he filled Adams shoes with chesse sauce Adam woke up he could smell something chessy but thought nothing of it he grabbed his socks he took a whiff of them and gagged they were really smelly but he still put them on

Adam had to go to the supermarket he put his feet in the shoes there was a splat sound as he put his feet into his shoe he let out a moarn and said "Ew gross" he threw the shoes off and put his flip flops on but that meant every could definitely smell his feet as he was walking to the store everyone looked at him with disgust he got thrown out of the store cause of his smelly feet Adam was so confused he had a bath but his feet were still smelly for a few hours then they smelled fine again

Wednesday-the itching powder prank

This was a fun one Santa covered Adams top and pants in itching powder Adam had no idea untill he was filming for his YouTube channel and started to fell itchy first his arm pits were itchy and his cortch he looked so uncomfortable when he finished the video he ran in his house and changed but he was itchy all day

Thursday-the laxative prank

For this one Santa pranked Adam while he was doing a promo for blue Peter all he had to do was stand on the stage and "say tune into blue Peter this Christmas with me Adam b see you there" it was that simple but Santa had put a strong laxative into Adam's water bottle

Adam downed the bottle and went on stage

The director said Acton but right away Adams stomach started to hurt and made a strange sound he went to say his line but he did a huge fart pfffffft he went red he said his line and then pulled a face and sqelch was heard he had Pooed his pants

The director said cut Adam ran off and went to the toilet where he remained all day pooing and pooing

Friday-dog food underwear prank

Adam was so embarrassed about the day before he stayed in all day untill he decided to go for a walk for fresh air unknown to him Santa had rubbed dog food into his underwear as soon as Adam went outside a dog started barking at him and then chased him Adam ran as fast as he could he ran though a field and fell face first into a cow pat he spewed it was so disgusting he got up and ran back to his house the dog was still behind him the dog bite him on his bum makeing Adam scream

He went inside and went to bed his bum felt sore

Saturday-the messy prank

This was the simple bucket above the door trick

Adam got up and opened his bedroom and a bucket of green snot fell onto his head he yanked the bucket of his head right away he wiped his face and a pie Adam said "what's going this week" Adam hated all this humalition he only had one more day left thankfully but it was going to be the worst one yet

Sunday-the finale

Adam b had a date today he put all the stuff that happened that week behind him but Santa was going to do all the pranks to him and abit more

First Santa rubbed dog food on his pants again

Adam made himself look good for his date and left his house and walked towards the restruant to meet his date he was nearly there when the same dog from before saw him and barked at him again Adam stopped in his tracks and said "please not again" but the dog ran at him so Adam ran off back home where it safe on the way he fell onto mud then ran into somes shed to hide where tins of paint fell onto him he made to his garden he jumped on the fence but the dog jumped up and ripped his jeans of him

He fell into his garden moarning

his clothes were in tatters and he was covered in paint he was running late for his date but he could go like this so went inside to get changed but Santa had put a bucket of snot above his door again so he got covered in the stuff again

He had a shower he used his spray but Santa had replaced his spray with the smelly cheese spray so he stunk of gone off chesse

Santa also put inching powder in his clothes Adam rushed to the restaurant his date was waiting she looked crossed

Adam rushed in but fell back onto the desert table landing on a chocolate cake his bum was covered it looked like he pooed himself

Adam sat down and said sorry to his date

She pulled a face and said "you smell really bad"

Adam felt emmbarssed the date got worse as Adam kept moving around because of the itching powder

The food arrived Adam eat it but it was laced with chilli sauce and laxatives he tired not to show it but it was so hot his mouth was on fire

Then he farted and pooed himself again

The girl was so disgusted she shoved a pie in his face and left

Adam went to chase after her "wait I can explain but he tripped over a wire and fell into a huge pool of chocolate sauce he squrimed around in the pool Santa then appeared and put a hook onto Adam's underwear and then yanked on a rope so Adam went up in the air he was hanging there in a wedgie

Santa said "you were on my naughty list for doing pranks well now you know how it feels"

Santa turned to everyone in the restruant and said "fell free to throw things at this little prankster then Santa left

Every threw pies at Adam and squrited ketchup and mustard all over him untill his underwear ripped and landed on the dersert cart landed on a cream cake with a splat he got up and ran off with everyone laughing at him

He wouldn't be doing pranks for a while

Santa now went to see his next victim

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate!Harry: I’ll Make It Up To You - Part 3

Please like if it’s not too shabby, re-blog for anyone who you think may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Part 1 - Part 2 

Word Count: 3.9K 

Warnings: I think slight swearing, One sentence of smutty language. 

A/N-The bold bits are a flashback! 

————————— 

 You were spending your Wednesday afternoon doing housework and cleaning up your apartment. In the last two weeks, you had been helping Harry here and there with writing some songs, but you never wanted to take any credit for his work. You were just happy to help. 

You’d both let the mess pile up a little bit, mainly paper thrown everywhere, scribbled with random lyrics and instrument chords. You had vowed to yourself that you weren’t going to write anymore or get yourself lost in your musical dream world, but Harry always seemed to manage to get you sucked in to help.

You pick up your phone to dial H, letting it ring a few times.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Everything fine?” Harry answers worriedly.

You couldn’t help but chuckle “Everything is fine, I just phoned to see if you needed any of that paper on the piano or if it can be thrown?”

“Erm, maybe just stick it in a pile in my room and I’ll go through and sort it later. What are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning our pigsty of an apartment Haz!” You laugh and smile. 

“Look at you being a wife” He teases and chuckles. 

“Shut up, or you’ll be my next victim! Do you want me to wash your bedding too?”

“Ohhh yes please! You’re an angel!”

“Someone’s got to be” You smile. “And your spare sheets are in the drawer under your bed?” You hold your phone to your ear with your shoulder as you pile the thrown papers together. 

“Yeah I think I- Erm...a-actually I can put the sheets on when I’m home!” He says quickly. You were slightly taken back by the change in his tone. “Are you sure?”

“Y-yeah....yeah I...I forgot I’d bought some new ones a while ago and they’re...they’re still in my car” He fakes a chuckle, although you soon became oblivious to his cover story.

“Did you manage to get those silky black ones?!” You gasp.

“Y-yeah...yeah I did”...fuck. “I gotta go, Jeff’s pestering me to sign some stuff. I’ll see you later”

“Okie dokie, see you later. Text me when you’re leaving the studio and I’ll start dinner.” 

“Thanks babe, laters” He sighs softly and hangs up. “I need to order black silk sheets on Amazon asap...” He groans.

“You still haven’t told her?!” Jeff sighs, his head shaking. “Harry you need to do it sooner or later...”

“I know but she might freak out!” Harry’s brows furrowed as he kicks the floor softly. “Right...let’s keep going” He sighs.

You cleaned the apartment top to toe, and you couldn’t help admit that you did feel much better. It felt cosier than before, and on this particular day, the sun was glowing, warming your skin through the window.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this. You promised yourself two weeks ago that you wouldn’t be doing this. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t put your mind back into your past and be sitting writing songs about old feelings and passed experiences. But here you were...

Using the back of the scraps of paper from Harry’s pile, you were spilling out every word that came to mind, like every feeling in your chest was finally released. Your fingers glided across the piano keys flawlessly with the words you had pieced together, falling perfectly from your mouth. The weight being lifted made you wish you had done this months ago.

—————————

“Come on babe, everyone’s already waiting for us at the party...your birthday party which me and all your friends have thrown for you and we’re late!” Your boyfriend Adam teased as he smiled, “You look great” He chuckles as he grabs his jacket. 

“Okay, I’m ready! Let’s go. I can’t believe you guys all managed to book out Club 21 for me!” You grin as you followed him into the taxi towards the club.

“You dropped my hand while dancing, so I left you out there standing...crestfallen on the stage with...champagne problems

You had a cheap ring for it...my picture in your wallet...but my heart was glass and you dropped it...now I have champagne problems” 

The music was pounding as you danced around happily with all your friends on the dance floor. You were having the best night of your life so far. Surrounded by all of yours and Adam’s best friends. You pant as you escape the crowded dance floor and head over to the bar, joining your friend Niall, and your best friend and flat mate Harry, who were both best friends too. 

“Hello birthday girl!” Niall grins and hugs you tightly, kissing your cheek. “It’s not my birthday yet!” You laugh and hug him tightly, then hugging Harry. “Not for another...57 minutes” Harry smiles.

“Have you guys seen Adam? He said he’d get me a drink and I haven’t seen him since!” You say over the music. “I think he’s in the toilet...I’ll go find him. H can get you a drink” Niall pats your back and heads to the men’s toilets.

“Did you tell your family the real reason? Or did you keep it in?...Your mum had splashed out on the bottle...now no ones celebrating”

“Dom  Pérignon, you brought it...but our friends never applauded...your hometown skeptics say it’s...champagne problems”

As Niall strolled into the toilets, he checked his hair in the mirror, noticing a pair of white trainers and red heels in the reflection, hidden behind a cubical door. He smirked and chuckled quietly until he heard “Ohhh fuck, Adam keep going” the female moaned softly. Surely not...there must be plenty of Adam’s in the club. “Mmm I haven’t been able to resist you since I arrived...fuck you’re so tight baby” Adam moaned. It was him. Niall felt the fury cause redness to his cheeks and it took all of his will power not the break the door down and beat Adam to a pulp. He knew where he needed to be most importantly.

His fists were clenched as he left and walked over to the bar “Y/N...” Niall couldn’t help the frown on his lips. You smile as you saw him come back “There you are, was he in there?” 

“Y/N I need to tell you something...” Niall gulped. You couldn’t help but feel like his expression said every word you had been so scared to hear. And he never had to say a word, as you saw Adam stumbling out the men’s bathroom, with an unknown female following out 10 seconds later. You had no words, everything you wanted to say...to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to punch something.

 “I’m going to fucking kill him” You heard a mutter from Harry. But you couldn’t react.

“Was it all for the money...or all for the show...I found out that you cheated so I had to go...I always thought I’d know the answer, ‘til you were on your knee and asked me”

You went to storm up to Adam but he was long gone. You had no clue where he had gone...was this it? Was that how he leaves us? As you turn back to Harry and Niall, their eyes were no longer on you, their dark, angry  eyes watching up at the stage. Adam appeared with a wide grin on his face.

“Where’s Y/N?” He calls out. If you hadn’t of just seen him fall out the bathroom with another girl, you would never have believed he could do something so breaking. “Adam...what are you doing?” You mumble, feeling tears in your eyes. Harry and Niall stood close behind you.

“Come up here baby” Adam grins, but before you could even attempt to run away, you were being pulled up onto stage by two of your other friends, who clearly didn’t know what had just happened. 

Was this it? Was he about to break up with you 45 minutes before your birthday...in front of all your friends? You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing. But oh no, this was much worse.

"I was going to do this in 45 minutes...but unfortunately, one of our friends has to leave the celebrations early for work tomorrow...” Adam smiles brightly at you. You felt sick to your stomach. How could he have the audacity act like he hadn’t just cheated and broken your heart.

You were still in shock. Everything was happening so fast, that you didn’t focus until you realised Adam was on his knee. “Y/N Y/L/N...will you marry me?” He pulls out a small ring, that was clearly not going to fit you. It would definitely cut off your circulation!

The lights were bright in your eyes, as they reflected the tears threatening to spill. But they weren’t the happy tears you always dreamed you’d have at this moment. He pushed the ring up into your hand, silently begging you to take it. You don’t know why...but you held the ring in your hands loosely.

“H-how could you cheat on me...” You whisper, only loud enough for him to hear. You could see the guilt in his eyes as everyone was about to cheer, assuming you’d said yes...but the crowd quickly fell silent as you shook your head, you just wanted to run.

You rushed down the steps at the side of the stage and pushed through the crowd, your legs feeling like jelly as you crashed through the doors and ran...you just ran. The tears finally freed themselves as you let out heavy sobs.

You heard people shouting your name down the street but you couldn’t stop. You were scared to face whatever happened next. You ran and ran until you felt two arms grab you from behind “Hey...shhh c’mere it’s me” As soon as you heard Harry’s hushed tones, you stopped resisiting his grip. You turned into his chest and clutched his shirt, sobbing loudly as you wanted to fall into a pile there and then. His arms protectively tightened around you, his head resting ontop of yours.

“I got you...I’ve always got you. Niall’s getting the car and we’re taking you straight home” 

“...I could of made such a lovely wife...what a shame you fucked up my head... they said “you’ll find the real thing instead...and he’ll patch up the pieces you’ve shred.... and he’ll...hold my hand while dancing...I’ll never leave him standing, crestfallen on the stage with Champagne Problems”

The journey home was painfully silent apart from your sobs. Harry held you closely as Niall drove. “I’ll pop round tomorrow ok...text me if you need anything” Niall says to Harry, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you get out the car. “Thanks Ni” You mumble. “Anytime princess” He gives you a sweet smile before driving home. 

Harry gets you inside, you wipe your soaked cheeks with the back of your hand. You headed straight to the fridge intending to get some water, but instead you found two bottles of champagne which had been sat in the fridge since Christmas.

“Better late than never...” You mutter and take them to the sofa. You popped one open and took a large mouthful from the bottle. Harry brought in a hoodie of his for you, wrapping it around your arms as you suddenly burst into heavy sobs. “Why me?!” You scream into his chest.

“No you’re perfect...he doesn’t deserve you” He whispers, holding you close to him. “You don’t need him. You have me...and Niall”

You whimpered as you took swigs from your bottle very quickly. It tasted awful. But nothing tasted worse than heartbreak.

“Hey Y/N…happy birthday m’darling” he whispers “I’ll make sure you have the best day”

“A cheap ring in your pocket...her picture in your wallet...you won't remember all my...champagne problems

Have you forgotten all my champagne problems?

Now, his mum’s ring in his pocket...my picture in his wallet...he’ll never give me any...champagne problems

He helped to cure all of my champagne problems...”

The next morning, you woke with a heavy head. You found yourself quickly remembering the night before. You sat up slowly, feeling an arm tightly wrapped around your waist. You and Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa...you must have cried yourself to sleep after demolishing one and a half bottles of champagne.

“How are you feeling?” Harry whispers, his hand brushing your hair back gently. You stare at the ring on the table. “I...I don’t know. I never thought this would happen to me...I though this was it.” You mumble sadly. “I thought I was enough” You whisper silently. His heart broke and the ide that you felt you weren’t enough. “You will always be enough...” He frowns and holds you. Kissing your head. He’d never wished more than to have the ability to take someone’s pain away. 

“Y-you...you won’t leave me too will you Harry?” You sniffle, your head resting on his chest.

“Never...I’ll never leave you” He mutters into your hair.

“What if I’m alone forever...what if I can’t heal from this?” You whimper

“You’ll find it. I know you thought you did...but you’ll find the real thing instead, and whoever it is will patch your heart up. And you won’t ever need to leave him” He whispers reassuringly.

————————— 

 You play around with the last two versions of the chorus, completely oblivious to Harry’s presence in the doorway until you heard a small shuffle from that direction

Your head snapped up “Jesus Harry! I didn’t know you would be home yet...You scared the life out of me! What’s wrong?” You frown as you run up to him, throwing your arms up around his shoulders, noticing his furrowed brow and the sad frown on his lips.

“I...that was so beautiful Y/N...and it just reminds me of how much he hurt you...a-and you...y-you’ve grown so much” He whispers softly, his arms tightly wrapping around you. “You never deserve to be treated like that...and I still hear you crying some nights, I just couldn’t face seeing you that way and...and I-I knew you’d kill me if I barged in...” He mutters, his eyes grazing the floor, as you let out a small laugh. “And you wrote a song again...I’m so fucking proud” 

“It’s okay Harry...I’m okay now!” You whisper, holding his cheeks in your hands. “I just needed to do it. One final time, and that’s it now. I’m going to get a proper job and-”

“Y/N I need to talk to you.” Harry cuts you off. “I was planning on having this conversation with you in a much nicer setting...but I don’t think I can wait.”

This was it...you didn’t realise how much you had craved to hear those three words fall from Harry’s mouth after months of trying to convince yourself that you didn’t feel that way.

“I’ve got you a recording contract with me for the new album...I want you on it. It’s been sat under my bed for weeks ready to give to you but I was worried you’d say no-” Harry says nervously.

You almost didn’t realise what he’d said until it was too late and you already started speaking.

“Harry I love you too...I-” You gasp as your hand flies in front of your mouth. No. No. No no no. This was not happening! You had single handedly embarrassed the shit out of your self and ruined the rest of your life. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole and spit you out in Australia.

“W-what?” Harry froze, taken back by the sudden confession. He didn’t know what to say, but to say he was shocked was an understatement.

“What...” You tried to act natural. Wishing to take back the last 5 seconds. “Oh...that’s erm...that would be a good read...you can just slide it under my door and I’ll read it in 3-5 working days.” You mutter quickly. You didn’t  slipping past him, to disappear into your bedroom.

“Y/N...wait!” His hand grabs your wrist “...you love me?” His gaze fell soft into yours. You thought of every excuse to get out of this situation, as scared as you was to admit it...it was out now. 

“Y-yeah...” you whisper, staring into his eyes, praying to make some sense of how he felt towards you. You so badly wanted him to speak, but the silence hanging between the two of you was deafening. You needed to know.

“D-do...do you...Do you love me Harry?” Your voice croaked. 

Of course he did...

“I-I don’t know...” You couldn’t help but feel your heart shatter some more, the sparkle in your eye slowly fading. And at that moment, you know you had ruined the best friendship of your life. You prepared yourself for Harry to leave the room, pack a bag and go to stay at Niall’s. But he just stood there, analysing your face intensely. You began to pull your hand away from his and run quickly.

“No...wait! Y/N I didn’t mean it like that I just...Well you always had Adam...and you’ve always been my best friend...and then when you guys split up, I...I was so angry because I knew I could never do that to you, and I wanted to change that so badly, but I never wanted to my feelings to get in the way of our friendship. I don’t ever want to loose you Y/N...I always thought I just wanted what I can’t have...until I knew I wanted to protect you for the rest of my life...I love you...I’ve always loved you Y/N, I just didn’t want to ruin anything...” He whispers, his bright eyes sparking as the warm sunset glow flooded your apartment.

“H-have I ruined it all....” You whimper softly, feeling your breath getting stuck in your throat.

“Never...” He whispers, one of his hands cupping your cheek, and the other locking into the side of your neck as you felt soft tears slipping down your cheeks. You had never been so terrified of losing someone. But that worry was soon washed away when you felt Harry’s soft pink lips press against yours. Sparks were flying through your blood as you wasted no time kissing him back with every ounce of passion until you couldn’t breath.

Neither of you wanted to beak the kiss...but Harry also didn’t want the pair of you to collapse. He pulled his lips away from yours, pressing his forehead against yours, the both of you panting heavily. 

“I love you so fucking much” He whispers, tears filling his eyes.

—————————

- 3 Months Later -

"Y/N we need to get you downstairs, we don’t have time to get you mic’d up up here, Graham has already started the show, so we’ll mic you up in the wings” A runner knocked on your dressing room.

“Ok I’m ready lets go...” You get up from the chair and check yourself in the mirror quickly. You had a beautiful red dress on, the sleeves hung off the shoulders and there was a slit in the leg of the floor length material. You had sparkly silver heels on, which looked like diamonds when they caught the light. Your hair was curled in a half up, half down style, with your normal glamourous makeup. 

Harry was in the wings waiting, speaking to a few other people as you were getting mic’d up. He was in a red suit, to match the colour of your dress, with a white shirt, his shoes just white this time. He glanced up with a wide grin. “There she is...mmm look at my beauty” He smirks happily and presses a kiss to your lips, holding your hips as a runner was hiding the wire in your dress.

“And you’re on in 3...2...1...” 

“Please welcome Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N!”

Harry took your hand as you followed him onto the set of The Graham Norton Show, the crowd cheering happily as you are greeted with a hug and kiss on the cheek from Graham, returning happily, and sitting down beside Harry after he gave the same greeting.

“Hello hello and welcome! It’s an honour to have you both here tonight on my sofa...although you have both sort of blended in” He chuckles

“Yeah...we didn’t really think about that until we got changed...” Harry chuckles, his hand holding yours tightly as you smile, taking a sip of wine from your glass.

“So we have a lot to talk about tonight...but firstly...congratulations on your new album! It sounds incredible and I know I’m not the only one wondering this, but how did you find working together while being in a relationship? Because your relationship only came into public view after the album was released...Now you two have lived together for...4 years is that right?” Graham asks.

“Yeah so...actually we have been best friends and flat mates for years, we’ve always had such a heavy impact on each others lives but we always both sort of thought it was just friendship. Around a year ago now I went through a really difficult break up and Harry was there every step of the way. Since then I always knew I loved Harry but it wasn’t until just after we had written the first version of Fine Line that I found out he felt the same” Your eyes gleam just talking about it.

“So...you two wrote Fine Line together, was that the first song you wrote for the album?” He looks over at Harry

“Actually, I’d already written Watermelon Sugar, Golden and Adore You. Fine Line was next and I was writing it at home. Naturally every song I write, Y/N is one of the first to hear, whether it’s in the living room, or when she’s in the bath and I sit outside the door to play it. It’s always been that way, even before we got together.”

Graham nods and smiles “You can’t let the poor woman have a bath in peace!” He jokes and teases as you both laugh. “So did you decide to name the album Fine Line because it’s the first song you wrote together?”

“I know!” Harry chuckles “sort of...Fine Line actually came about after...well it was after a prank I tried to pull on Y/N which went horribly wrong, then she finally forgave me and I was talking to her in the kitchen about how I was struggling to write emotional songs at the time. And the words she said to me really stuck...that night I sat at the piano and tried to piece together our conversation in a song. Y/N came to help me and she just...she’s really the saving grace. So I think yeah...maybe that was one of the reasons we called in Fine Line.”

“That’s incredible...and Y/N you were actually going to give up music weren’t you? Thank god you didn’t” Graham smiles.

You blush softly “I was...I just as going through a rough time. I helped Harry with the song and then I said I would quit. Then a couple of weeks later, Harry declared his love for me after he’d told me he had a joint record deal contract for us, to include me in the album” you tease with a smirk.

Harry grins widely and laughs quietly “I think the details of that have been slightly twisted...” He teases as you blush.

“Well I can’t wait to hear that story later! Now are there going to be any more joint albums...?” Graham asks curiously.

“...” You both look between each other “Time will tell Graham” Harry winks.

“Well...we are goin to go to an ad break now, but stay tuned because you don’t want to miss the first ever live performance of Fine Line by Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N!”

The crowd cheer loudly as the cameras cut to an ad break.

“I’m not waffling too much right?...it is my first ever proper interview” You mumble slightly as Harry and Graham sat with you in conversation while you were having your makeup touched up.

“You’re doing great baby...everyone loves you. I told you I’d make it all up to you when I stole your clothes and you missed that audition...” He grins cheekily.

“Now that’s a story I definitely need to hear!” Graham laughs along with the audience

—————————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @sad-capuccino @beachwood-cafe

[ravenvsfox]

Things Fall Apart; the Centre Cannot Hold

Summary: He keeps remembering the chafe of Ronan’s shoulder against his ribs as they got oriented in his little bed, the glisten of tears and nightwash wringing his lovely eyes, the lonely twist in his unguarded late-night voice over the phone, the one that Adam had almost liked, because it meant that he was indisputably missed. It was worse, that Ronan had been trying so hard for Adam, because it was easier to tell when he stopped.

(Adam's perspective throughout Mister Impossible, as his worry reaches a fever pitch, and the two versions of himself begin to converge)

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: mi spoilers, death/suicide mention

A/N: batshit middle books my beloveds. adam pov or bust 😌

Read on AO3

In high school, Gansey would very occasionally call Adam in the middle of the night.

He would speak low and fast, his panic pinched between thumb and forefinger and held at a respectable distance. Adam would smother the receiver with his palm and step outside of his family trailer, listening hard for movement at his back.

The news was always the same: Ronan Lynch was on his latest rampage or bender, exercising his dark talent for bullying his way into people’s lives and then breaking down all of their windows and doors trying to get out again.

Gansey would fret and apologize, guilty for luring Adam out of his wolf-den, guiltier for neglecting his duties as Ronan’s warden. Adam would wait tiredly on the line for Gansey’s anxiety to exhaust itself, and then dutifully join the search party.

He would step into his beaten tennis shoes and pry his bike from the fence, silencing the silvery shock of metal on metal, and avoiding the reedy whir of the spokes by holding the whole thing aloft until he reached the gravel road.

From there, he would venture out into the abandoned Henrietta streets, the crunch of his tires cutting clean through the woolly midnight silence. He often circled the perimeter of the park nearest Monmouth, stepped through the great dark portal into St. Agnes, and nipped under the old bridge, squinting into the darkness for the challenging shoulders, the oil-slick BMW gleam, the slump of a body or clatter of bottles.

This is a part of Gansey that I admire, he would think. And with equal fervour, this is a part of Gansey that I resent. This blood attachment to Ronan, who was not even attached to himself. The insomnia that seized two heads of the lopsided Cerberus that Adam, Ronan, and Gansey were all part of, a restlessness on either side of him that shook him awake over and over again.

He chased Ronan’s shadow, hating him. Hating his thoughtlessness, his privilege, his chokehold on Gansey’s interests, his purposefully and continuously ruined potential, and yet bristling with anxiety at the idea of finding him bleeding.

They hadn’t known then that he was a dreamer, but they’d felt the ear-popping pressure of his grief, glimpsed the hulking animal of his self-loathing, urged onwards by the twin spurs of Declan and Gansey, the past and the future, digging into his sides.

Adam had seen Ronan, teeth bared, hurling himself at rock bottom, and he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pulled him back by the collar.

Things are completely different now, but he still finds himself sleep-raw and petrified, reaching after Ronan in the dark.

He examines himself in the mirror of the communal bathroom in Thayer hall. The overhead lights are an unflattering yellow, the sink has a long dark hair stuck to its basin, and Adam’s face is gaunt and bruised with lack of sleep.

He’s losing it, a little bit.

He takes his own pulse, focusing on the faraway burble of the ley line. Everything, lately, seems far away.

As if through a stranger’s eyes, he slips from the seafoam tiling and bleach tang in Thayer’s North bathroom to the accordion door of the trailer toilet, the creaky cubicle shower, his gawky, hurt reflection in the burnt-out light. This version of Adam had to watch his best friend’s best friend escape suicide watch and get screaming drunk in public, treading mud and malicious dreams all over Monmouth manufacturing.

He can still smell the salt tang from teenaged Adam’s ocean of disdain.

Now that he loves Ronan, his irritation has only gotten sharper, more deadly. Ronan performs each perilous swan dive into the unknown, each foolhardy act of self-sacrifice, as if the people who care about him aren’t gasping spectators. It makes Adam furious.

Perhaps neither of them have changed as much as they wanted to believe. As Gillian keeps advising the crying club—with the confidence of a seasoned psychiatrist—progress isn’t linear.

He keeps remembering the chafe of Ronan’s shoulder against his ribs as they got oriented in his little bed, the glisten of tears and nightwash wringing his lovely eyes, the lonely twist in his unguarded late-night voice over the phone, the one that Adam had almost liked, because it meant that he was indisputably missed. It was worse, that Ronan had been trying so hard for Adam, because it was easier to tell when he stopped.

He slides fingers over his temples, smooths a knuckle over each eyebrow to ease the tension he always carries there. Sleep is a little knot of gristle lodged at the back of his throat; he can’t swallow it and he can’t spit it up. It never used to be this hard to put his problems to bed. He would worry the weight on his chest into small pieces, and go to sleep knowing that even the worst things about his life were organized correctly.

This time though, he’s out of sorts, divided, always busy but always spinning his wheels. He has a white-hot secret pressed to the roof of his mouth.

Every time he folds himself into bed, his subconscious helpfully reminds him that Ronan might be dead. And then a highlight reel plays in his head like an In Memoriam: Adam’s hand cupping Ronan’s nape, a barn silhouetted against a melancholy sky, a fistful of dreamt light, a dozen hard-won smiles and a hundred easy ones, a white handprint on a flushed thigh, a colourful joke to placate a brother, a kiss pressed to a dream’s forehead. All of that—gone. And Adam, at Harvard.

He highlights long patches of text in his sociology textbook, drinks a sensible amount of jack and coke at Eliot’s birthday party, declines Gansey’s calls by sending cheerful and conciliatory texts, and drifts through the library with his hand knotted in the strap of his satchel, looking for something that he can’t really articulate. He reads the same line of theory over and over and over and over, feeling like he’s scrying, like his focus isn’t his own.

He did all of this before Ronan went missing too, but now it’s a whole different class of performance. It used to be, I’m convincingly attentive, I’m sipping overpriced coffee on the way to class like a good Ivy leaguer, I’m making an impression on my professors, I’m forging friendships. Someday I will cash in these relationship tokens, and it all will have been worth it. It felt impossible that his life could be so simple and rewarding.

Now he thinks, I’m studying for finals and my boyfriend is being hunted by people whose job it is to kill him. I’m drinking a latte and the only people I’ve ever loved have left me, and I'm alone again. I’m putting my hand up in class and somewhere, Ronan’s life is changing, rapidly, dangerously, without me.

He lies to everyone, all the time, and tells himself that this life he’s building is more important than anything.

Once, as they cleared placemats and mugs full of stagnant coffee from the kitchen table, Ronan—still cobwebbed in his most recent dream—had detailed the sensation of hovering over himself afterwards. He was unable to manipulate his physical body or even really recognize it as his own, and his consciousness, detached, had its own limbs, its own intentions. He was like a parasite trying to wriggle back into its host.

Whenever Adam consults his double in a bit of glass, he imagines himself as a nimble dreamer, peering down, working to bring a fantasy to life. He can see his own outline, a slick college student with a flat, pleasant affect and a gaggle of soft-shelled friends. He plays his role impeccably well, but he can’t fit himself into it. If he passed himself in the hallway he would not stop.

Looking in the mirror now, he feels a red pang of fear, then a supercut of the ways he used to let himself love and be loved, then resentfulness hot on the heels of his worry.

His reflection withers, and he looks deliberately down at his hands. It’s a Tuesday, and he needs to sleep, or his tightly-scheduled Wednesday will be a misery. It’s a Tuesday, which means he hasn’t spoken to Ronan in—he stalls. Call me, he thinks, miserably. Just call me.

He can deal with a multitude of challenging and improbable situations if only he can see them clearly. Ronan is, for whatever reason, keeping him in the dark.

The not knowing is bad. It’s not how he functions. It’s not how they function. But instead of dwelling, he puts his back into the narrative that is now his reality: Impeccable student. Devoted friend-group. Tough break-up. Bright future.

Ronan isn’t here. Can’t ever be, physically, so far from the ley line. Adam has to be.

“Croissant, as ordered.” His gaze snaps up, connecting—not with his own image, but with clever, horn-rimmed Gillian. “They tried to foist it upon me without butter, if you can imagine that.” She deposits a crinkly brown and tan paper bag in front of him, and then two little plastic pots of butter. Adam regards the squashed shape of the bag’s contents with confusion.

It’s— “Is it Tuesday?”

“Wednesday,” Eliot corrects airily, licking jam from their thumb.

“My god, Adam. Whatever happened to your infallible circadian rhythm?” Fletcher asks. “You are the Swiss timepiece by which we measure our days.”

A terrible wave of vertigo strikes him, and he’s grateful to find himself sitting, at one of two conjoined wrought-iron tables in the courtyard near Thayer. He can feel the ley line breathing for the first time in a long time.

He must have gone to bed after his late-night breakdown in the bathroom. He must have. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was. His hand strays to his hair. Wet. He’d woken, showered, and met his friends for breakfast, and he can barely remember it.

“Sorry,” he chokes. “Sleep deprivation is catching up to me, I think.”

“Aw, chicken,” Benjy says affectionately. “I’ve sung those end of term blues. The profs think we’re machines. Don’t even get me started on Dr. Fraundberg’s Lit Crit for assholes.”

“Whyever would we?” Eliot says. “We want to make it to class before noon.”

“Har-har. You wound me. Adam you’d better get a tissue ready, I’m about to tear up.”

“Also,” Gillian says, pointing her be-honeyed knife in Eliot’s direction. “Speak for yourself. I want to make it to class never.”

“Your presentation is going to be exceptional,” Fletcher tells her. “Your rough draft already drove me into paroxysms of jealousy. I don’t know why you’re so concerned.”

“I don’t just want to pass,” Gillian says. “I want to win.”

“Admirable,” Benjy sniffs.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Adam,” Eliot says, at length. He’s aware that they’re all trying very hard to act like they don’t notice how poorly composed he is.

“Can’t a man savour his pastry, Eli?” Fletcher rumbles.

“No, that’s fair,” Adam sighs. The four of them peer at him expectantly, eyebrows arranged into an array of benign and non-threatening shapes. “It’s possible I’m having a slight breakdown,” he says, adopting the grim hyperbole of a student for whom finals are the beginning and end of their emotional upset.

Everyone at the twin tables indulges in a bit of mild laughter.

“What a coincidence, so am I!”

“Well if it’s only slight, I’ll stow my concern.”

“Harvard or personal?”

He smiles faintly, and says, “kind of both. The personal is political, or something.”

He thinks he’s laying it on thick, but Gillian grins at him. “'Atta boy.”

Fletcher goes to take a sip of his tea, but chokes when his phone lights up with an incoming text message. “Criminy, is it eight already? Starting the day with a bang, as usual. I’ll meet you at Weld this evening, yes?” he asks, shaking out his tweed jacket and thrusting an arm through it, securing the remains of his bagel between his teeth with his other hand.

“Of course,” Adam says. Fletcher gives him a thumbs up, mouth charmingly stuffed, and sweeps away across the now bustling courtyard.

“Hey magic man,” Eliot says. “Will you do a reading for my sister tonight? The break-up with Margot is hitting her kind of hard. I’m pretty sure she just wants to be told she’ll find love again.”

Adam watches the juddering impact of Benjy kicking Eliot under the table.

He shrugs. “First come first serve, but I’ll give her the friends and family discount.”

“You’re a prince,” Eliot says, blowing him a kiss. Adam tries to imagine any of his friends from Henrietta doing such a thing, and can’t. “Come along Benjy. Bookstore or bust. They’re giving out discount computing textbook codes at sixty dollars a pop.”

A slip of paper for sixty American dollars. Adam’s head aches profoundly.

Gillian waggles her fingers at their friends as they depart, then she turns and fixes Adam with that familiar amateur therapist look.

“What?”

“Are you sleeping?” she asks bluntly.

“I’m a very good sleeper,” Adam says wryly. “Ask anyone.”

“But are you actually doing it?”

“Yes, Gillian.” Liar, liar. “Do you want me to keep a dream journal as evidence?”

“Oh, yes please.” That shark’s grin. “I’d pay to know what the fuck is going on up there.” She taps her own temple to indicate Adam's guarded mind.

He spreads his hands between them. “I’m an open book.”

She hums, only half-smiling now. “I dunno. That Southern charm. I’m never quite sure if I should trust a politeness that perfect.”

“On that note,” Adam says, standing. He’s relieved to find that he’s wearing matching socks, and his pant legs are rolled just so. There’s a tiny streak of yellow on one of his shoes, and with a jolt he realizes that it’s dream-crab guts. He presses on. “Thanks for the croissant. And the psychoanalysis. Send me the bill.”

She salutes him with her coffee cup. “You couldn’t afford me.”

He laughs, and turns, and then spends the whole walk to his 9 AM class trying to straighten all of the haywire compasses in his brain so they point due north.

His assignment is in his bag, pressed neatly into a navy blue folder. He has three classes today, a meeting with his supervisor at three, a study block set aside from four to six, then dinner, then tarot readings all evening—his phone rings. His treacherous heart leaps. Ronan.

He stops mid-stride, scrambling for his cell in the front pocket of his bag.

“Hello?”

“I—oh—Adam! I didn’t expect you to pick up. How on Earth are you?”

“Gansey.” He exhales through his nose. “I’m just on my way to class.”

“Fantastic to hear your voice. How’s—not that one, Jane, the I-90—exactly. How’s Harvard? Are you batting away job offers yet?”

“Constantly. How are your nature hikes and hippie communes? Contracted any backwoods diseases yet?”

“Charming. I’m actually in remarkably fine form, health-wise.”

“Is that a brag?”

A guffaw. “More of a curiosity. It’s actually part of the reason I’ve been trying to get in touch. Have you noticed any surges of power from the ley line lately? I mean, of course you have, but do you have any idea what’s causing them?”

He frowns, pinning his cellphone between his good ear and shoulder as he heaves open the ancient door to the physics building. “I could give you my best guess.”

A beat, and then, “I’m listening, Parrish.” Something about the way he says it makes homesickness pulse painfully in Adam’s chest.

He finds a semi-secluded stone slab bench behind an empty stairwell, and slings his belongings across it before he replies, “Dreamers.”

“Dreamers,” Gansey repeats, but it sounds like he’s saying of course! “Plural?”

“At least three.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure yet.”

“Ronan hasn’t spoken to you,” Gansey guesses.

“Not—in a few days.”

“Is everything alright?”

He swallows, and is horrified to find tears burning at the back of his throat. There’s no pretending with Gansey. It’s why he never calls him.

“Adam,” he says quietly. “Is he in trouble?”

He struggles with his composure for several long seconds. “Possibly.”

A world-weary sigh. “I really wish you had called.”

“Yeah, well,” he says vaguely. He checks his watch. 8:23.

“So he’s playing with others. Why would Ronan want to do that?”

“I think—he’ll do anything not to feel powerless.” He understands as soon as he says it that it’s the pockmark in the windshield from which all of the damage is splintering outwards. “And people take advantage of that.”

Gansey makes a thoughtful noise, somewhere a thousand miles away, and it clicks in a lock and opens Adam’s shoulders up. Maybe he doesn’t have to be alone in this fight. How could he have forgotten careful, persistent Gansey?

“Well. He’s certainly not powerless. I almost feel back to my pre-Cabeswater self. Everything is pleasantly linear. And Blue is—lighting up.” In the background, he hears her say supercharged with relish. “I can only imagine what it’s like for full-blooded dream stuff, with all of that energy at their disposal.”

“I don’t know if I like it,” Adam says carefully. “It’s good for a while, helping all the Matthew’s of the world, and then what? Where does all of that diverted power end up? What makes dreamers qualified to harness it without their worst nightmares manifesting?”

“You’re worried about the Lace.”

The last time they spoke, Adam had told them briefly about his last scrying session, warning them to look out for the hateful, faceless thing that had pierced his cells and magnified all of his pain and fear until all he could possibly do was scream.

“I’m worried about Ronan. I know he’s in over his head, and I know he won’t believe it until it’s too late.”

“Sounds like someone I know. Don’t bite off more than you can chew with this, Adam. I know you’re enormously busy.”

It stings, a little. “I’m still going to—I’m obviously still going to make time for him. Especially when he’s—“

“Struggling. Yes. I understand perfectly.” It occurs to Adam that, unlike his well-meaning Harvard friends, he actually might. A needling murmur in the background, and then, “listen, Blue’s telling me that you should get in touch with the psychics, and Mr. Gray.”

He nods. The rhythm of problem-solving is soothing his frazzled nerves. “I’ve been considering it. I’m also pretty sure that Declan has been keeping his own tabs on things.”

“My money’s on yes,” Gansey says. Adam half-smiles. His money has been on a lot of things. “Poke around when you can. See what turns up. I’ll give Ronan a call, not that it’s ever done me much good before.”

“I’m pretty sure he ditched his phone.” He checks his watch. 8:24. It feels like it’s been much, much longer than a minute. There is so much day ahead of him.

Ordinarily, he would be compartmentalizing better than this. No feverish Gansey phone calls directly before class. No pleasure with his business. No finesse when logic will do the job just as well. But the subterranean, black-eyed Adam is still within him, tethered to the ley line and to his friends, and he wants very badly to fix this.

“Ah, Ronan,” Gansey sighs. “It’s always got to be him, doesn’t it?”

“I know,” Adam says narrowly. “If he’s not looking for trouble it’s looking for him.”

“You sound like Declan.”

Adam makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. Blue must be leaning across Gansey, because she says “that’s a new low,” almost directly into the receiver.

“I’m hanging up now,” he says flatly.

“Update me if anything changes? We’ll come home the moment things go south.”

He resists the urge to check his watch again. “Don’t cut things short on my account.”

“Well. Don’t disrupt your studies on Ronan’s. I’ve never known you to put your future on hold for anything.”

“I’m not—“ he stops. “Ronan is a part of my future.”

“Good,” Gansey says warmly. A test, then. And like most tests, there was never even a possibility that Adam wouldn’t pass.

______

It’s easy to tell when a dreamer is suffering.

As the energy from the ley line ebbs, dreamt creations judder and bolt like horses loosed suddenly from the service of a carriage, galloping towards safer pastures. If the dreamer is in more immediate peril, the dream simply folds its limbs into an agreeable shape and passes into sleep.

In the wee hours of Thursday morning, Adam lies awake in bed, dangling his hand between the wall and his bed frame, feeling along the subtle unfilled crack in the plaster. A flagpole casualty, from the day that everything stopped being enough for Ronan, and he slipped away on a dreamt current like a dark Ophelia.

He’s being dramatic.

He feels the drywall flaking, and digs his thumbnail into the split, wanting to rip the whole wall open with his fingers.

He keeps picturing Matthew’s half-lidded eyes, cloudless and blue as a wide prairie sky. The slouch of his posture, the tarnished golden head, the body briefly without a pilot.

Matthew had looked—Adam turns in bed, taking his chalky hand from the wall and fisting it in the sheets. He had looked like a faded old pillow, tucked unobtrusively into the chair by the window. He wouldn’t respond to Declan’s call, fluttering his drowsy lashes, and Adam had thought, ah. This is how I find out. His heart slumped over in his chest, dizzy with sudden grief. The tarot cards in his hands were dead leaves.

This is what happens when your life is tied to my brother’s, Declan had said, diverting his horror into scorn as he often did. The death of any one member of his family ensured the destruction of another. It had always been that way.

Matthew eventually roused, and Adam had closed his eyes and turned his face towards the ceiling until he could be normal again. He felt suddenly foolish for peddling lies to college students when magic was so obviously in the room with him.

Earlier, he had called Maura over lunch, and she vaulted right over small talk to ask him, with concern, about his loosening grip on his psychic inclinations. She’d said, “You do know that the ley line isn’t the source of your problems, right? Give yourself some credit. You can fuck things up in a completely non-mystical way.”

She pulled the Magician, reversed, and the eight of wands, and then, without further comment, passed the phone to Mr. Gray.

Unexplained weaponry, he’d reported. The Lynch brothers loosed on two separate worlds at the same time. Buttoned-up Declan for the first time unbuttoned, schmoozing with an array of dangerous and connected people, trading in secrets just as his father had. Purposeless Ronan for the first time with a purpose, wading out from the murky waters of his dreamspace and bringing the tides with him.

Bryde, the name in the corner of everyone’s mouth, joined all at once by Ronan’s and Hennessy’s.

Renegades, liberators of dreams, scorchers of earth. He could see, easily, why this would appeal to Ronan. A mission, finally. A father figure to guide his hand. A world that wanted his dreams, and wouldn’t crumple under the weight of his unusual ambition.

When they were teenagers, Aglionby was just another one of Adam’s jobs, but it was one of Ronan’s nightmares. He would go to school, a hooded bird of prey, seething with resentment and squandered ability. He longed for the Barns because of what they represented: the childlike belief that his family would never die; the possibility for creatures like him to roam free; a landscape powered by unconditional love.

Bryde, Adam knows, must be offering him the same relief. Exquisite flight, after the cage.

It’s not possible, is the thing. It’s a pipe dream. A Niall Lynch fairytale.

Foresight has never been Ronan’s strong suit. He gets it into his head that a solution is right up until the point that it falls apart in his hands. He throws himself entirely into belief. It makes him an extraordinarily loyal and trusting person. It also makes him stubborn, rash, and susceptible to manipulation.

He believes in one facet of something, and the rest follows. He can’t just take a sip—he downs the bottle.

Adam is a boy on a bicycle in November, needing to find Ronan alive so that he can hate him without feeling guilty about it. He never stops oscillating between resentment and love, reality and unreality, understanding and disappointment. He wants to be normal so that he can choose to be abnormal. Sometimes he wants the cards without the magic.

He closes his eyes and remembers a slumbering mouse against an angular cheek. He imagines Matthew like that, perpetually immobile, perpetually innocent, like a taxidermied puppy. The pieces of Ronan’s consciousness that will linger after his death, statues in a graveyard. Tamquam—tamquam—

What would Ronan be without his dreams? Here, Adam thinks. He’d be here.

He stays in bed for another wasted hour, and then stands up, disoriented, in the dimness of the room. Fletcher is snoring softly. Someone outside their cracked window is shuffling over the concrete stoop. His upstairs neighbour is playing tinkling soundtracks while he sleeps. Adam can’t be here anymore.

He plucks Fletcher’s laptop silently from its charging station, tucks his bare feet into stiff leather shoes, drags the cardigan from his desk chair, and lets himself out into the hallway. The glare from the overhead light pins him against the wall for a moment.

He shuffles half-blind down the hall and upstairs to the solarium, nearly losing one of his unlaced shoes in the stairwell in the process. The lights are blessedly shut off up in the attic, and he feels his way to the nearest of the tables hunched in the shadows. Aching with fatigue, he sits, unfolds his stolen laptop, and gets quietly to work.

He’s never had the time nor means to be truly proficient with technology, but he extracted a handful of leads from Mr. Gray, and he’s been in touch with a friend of Benjy’s—a computer science grad student and hacking hobbyist.

He chases key phrases down rabbit holes and assembles news articles, tracking Ronan’s movement by his “unexplainable” signature (code for mind-fuckery, joyful innovation, and dark humour). Adam is a practiced note-taker and serial obsesser, so it’s barely a strain to find Ronan—whom he knows better than anyone—cropping up all over the continental United States.

“What are you doing,” Adam murmurs. The sky lightens gradually to periwinkle. He has work today, but his shift doesn’t start until noon. His mouth is bone-dry, and his head feels cotton-stuffed the way it always does when he’s pushing his body to its limit.

When it’s late enough in the morning to be socially acceptable, he messages Benjy’s friend with the bare bones of what he’s looking for: a project under wraps, a lonely last name, a suppressed pattern. They correspond, remotely, until Adam is reading government files over watery coffee, wearing sweatpants, dress shoes, and a cardigan with cracked elbow patches.

He pores over it all, cross-referencing dates, and ignoring the widening sink-hole in his chest.

Industrial espionage isn’t at all Ronan’s usual brand of destruction. Highly controlled, not much up-front gratification. A little more political than Ronan usually leans. A lot more ambitious. Whatever their agenda, ley energy is flowing more easily now that it's unobstructed on such a large scale. Adam has been feeling its effects rippling all the way out to Boston, a persistent background pressure, unavoidable as a migraine.

It’s clear that the Moderators are desperate to eliminate Bryde’s party. Their reports are a comedy of close calls.

Slowly, Adam begins to understand the scope of things.

Billions of dollars in damages, manmade structures ripped from their foundations. Magical fugitives hunted by a team that specializes in murdering the targets they call Zeds. Visionary headlights pointed towards certain apocalypse. A world that is always awake, but always, always feels like it’s dreaming.

It’s pretty much exactly as he feared. Night terrors. The Lace. Beasts and legends. Adam holds his head in his hands. It’s more than what Ronan must be imagining. It’s more than Aurora waking happily in Cabeswater, powered by the swaying trees. It’s the indiscriminate waking of every incredible thing that’s ever been dreamed.

He’s struck by a wave of hopelessness that rushes all around him and tears at his hair. Ronan, dreamer of baubles that dispense music and light, cars that go very fast, and menageries of curious creatures, recruited to a cause that transmutes creation into chaos. Ronan, promising to wait, and then running full tilt at a future that can’t possibly keep Adam in it.

His dream half is going to destroy his human half, and he’ll take everybody else down with him.

If he could just see him, maybe—

His jaw creaks, teeth clenched tight against the emotional groundswell. The late morning sunshine strikes him, and he feel more like a vague, pale shape than a person. Like a dream, maybe.

Alter idem.

If Adam can’t reach Ronan, maybe the Moderators should.

He feels the weight of that awful thought burning a hole through his stomach lining. He can’t think about it. He needs to go to work.

_____

The next evening, he experiences a surge of power so acute that it nearly puts him in a coma.

It’s another Wednesday night, and another batch of his peers hitch polite smiles to his heels as he passes them by, winding his way up into the high, arched sunroom at Weld hall. They’re all wishing for magical solutions for their mundane problems, the opposite of Adam in nearly every way.

He bumps knuckles with Benjy and Eliot in turn, pulls up his chair, and knocks his last reading from Persephone’s deck, mostly out of habit. He consults his phone idly as his friends try to make pleasant conversation, holding up a finger when he finds a new batch of texts from Gansey.

John Amos power plant in WV shut down Monday

Intense. maura said she could’ve brought HER dreams to life afterwards

no word from Ronan yet? Leads from Declan? pls advise

I’ll assume no news is good news

He puts his phone in his satchel and fastens it closed. Every new scrap of information he gets feels like a stroll through Ronan’s security system at the Barns—hopelessness compounding and compounding until he staggers out the far end weeping.

He needs to focus on something productive. He nods at Benjy to start letting people inside, straightening the notebook where he usually scribbles his observations. Here, he is an adjudicator: powerful, organized, and reserved, tallying points and offering constructive critique.

His curious audience starts pouring in then, amateur wiccans and wannabe believers, aggrieved last-resorters and skeptics following friends’ recommendations. It’s a brighter collection of characters than Aglionby could ever have hoped to foster.

Gillian texts him to say that she just passed Weld and his line-up was out the door. He is a prim and unobtrusive con artist, a false prophet, and business is booming.

Eventually, a bespectacled girl who looks anywhere from five to ten years his senior sits across from him, tucking a bag armoured to the teeth with candy-coloured enamel pins between her feet.

“Hi,” she says nervously. “Anna.” She stretches her hands out in front of her, then thinks better of it and drops them into her lap.  “I’m not sure how this usually goes, so you might have to hold my hand a little bit.”

“No problem,” he says smoothly, passing his deck across the tabletop. “Just go ahead and shuffle. Concentrate on what you want to ask the cards.”

She does as directed, struggling a little to keep the papery stack in check. Not a natural born card sharp, then. He studies her neat black shirt, tucked precisely into a plaid skirt. A Marilyn mole drawn on just above the corner of her mouth. A pride flag pin he doesn’t recognize next to a cat wearing a cowboy hat, and the word “rude” in cursive.

She holds the deck fleetingly to her chest, eyes squeezed shut like a child making a birthday wish, and then plops it in the centre of the table. A card slips near the top, slightly uneven, and Adam plucks it free.

He hums thoughtfully. “Eight of cups. Okay. So you’re having some trouble with letting go.” She frowns and nods once, quick.

He lays out the rest of a simple five card spread neatly between them. A couple of stray swords, the chariot, a wand.

“It seems like things are stagnating in your personal life. Maybe your friend group used to feel like your family, but you feel like they’ve lost interest in you. And you love them, but Anna, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re pretty sure you were done with them before they even started pulling away. Right now you’re kind of just going through the motions. A couple of years overdue to convocate, right? Everyone else moved on to greener pastures.” He taps his thumb thoughtfully against the bones of his opposite wrist. “It’s not even the loneliness that gets you. It’s the not knowing. Are you supposed to chase after them? Is there another community out there for you? There is, you know.”

He notices another card spilling loose, and he grabs it without thinking. The Magician again. He thinks, huh, caught in the coils and dust of Persephone’s overturned cards.

And then the waking world disappears.

Adam is airborne, tumbling up into the atmosphere on a geyser of ley energy, whipped by branches and light. He throws his arms out to stop himself, but he’s only a projection, so his momentum doesn’t slow.

Something—Lindenmere? The cosmos?—shows him a series of images: an upturned nose made from oil and turpentine, a coiled old tree stump, a red-haired woman grinning toothily and then exploding, a rose the colour of warm dark skin, a pale scar-split hand cradling a silky head, the animal haunch of something black, a terrible voice booming turn back—

He skitters away, panicked, and bumps into his own body. Or not his own body. A double, blinking confusedly in the bathroom mirror.

His doppelgänger turns to leave, and Adam reaches after him, through the mirror, following himself into a version of Thayer which is not Thayer. Everything is alive, in this reality. Energy sings and saws its fingers together.

It’s a memory, but it’s also the present, and it’s also a nightmare. Wake up!

Obediently, the city wakes.

He gasps, although he doesn’t have a mouth. It’s the heaving first breath of a sleeping witch, like Gwenllian turning in her grave.

Adam struggles against the current of wild power, thick and pungent as gasoline. Everything feels more intense near magical artifacts, dream stuff, supernatural fault lines, and it is with great effort that he hunts for something familiar, something heavy enough to bind him. He was unprepared for this, and although everything around him is bitingly familiar, he's lost. He wheels around and around, reaching for his most trusted tethers—Gansey, Ronan, Blue, Persephone—

Persephone.

He follows the lingering perfume of her intuition, feeling blindly for those old handholds in her tarot deck, that familiar grip, like the hilt of a trusted weapon.

And then he finds himself looking again at the girl, Anna, her fate bunched around her narrow shoulders. And then at his own empty body, a glowing card clamped between his fingers. As soon as he’s aware of looking at himself, he’s looking out of himself, and he stands up quickly, overturning his chair.

“—Adam? Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

“What on God’s green Earth was that?”

A palm between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t touch me,” he chokes.

The hand retreats. A murmur: I’ve never seen him like this.

“Is it—is it bad? Am I going to be okay? Is it bad?” Anna keeps asking, horrified.

“You’re fine,” he manages to say. “I’m sorry.” The ‘o’ in sorry comes out a little wide and swerving.

“You went blank,” Benjy says, voice high with residual panic. “For like—ten minutes. Beyond hyper-focus.”

“I thought it was a gimmick,” Eliot says. “But a ten minute gimmick? What is this, Las Vegas?”

“I got carried away. I have to,” he swallows. “I need a minute. I promise everything’s fine.”

“Do whatever you need to do,” Eliot says quickly. “But, fair warning, I’m going to ask you a hundred questions when you get back.”

“And then I’m going to ask another hundred,” Benjy says. “Magic man.”

“A riddle, inside an enigma, wrapped in a sweater vest,” Eliot muses. He can tell they’re still shaken. He’ll have to deal with that, later.

“I'll be right back,” Adam says, touching them very lightly on the shoulder as he passes. The ley line is bursting, and he feels so flushed with its vitality that it almost makes him sick.

He stumbles past them, all the way out of the building and into the street. The winter air tears at his thin shirtsleeves, nips at his sock-less ankles. He shields his eyes against the sun, watching a bird swoop low overhead. A silvery, seagull-sized thing, but with knobby legs that taper into—he squints. Hooves?

He keeps moving, propelled by the mad urge to catch the bird, to pin the wild magic down so he can understand it.

Adam walks for what feels like a long time, trying to find the source of all of this haemorrhaging power. He spots a couple of fidgety-looking students, a few more curious creatures. Somewhere, faraway, there’s music crooning, and it sounds exactly the way a hot shower feels.

He stops in the middle of Oxford street, head cocked towards the natural history museum across the way, the orderly buildings, the sparse evening foot traffic. Business as usual. All of it screaming with energy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a parade of scuttling creatures marching towards an invisible destination. Frowning, Adam crosses the street, chasing the peacock blue shimmer from an unfurled wing. He slows, stooping in the alley to pick one of the strange insects from the stream. He peers through a nail-sized hole in its head. Its spindly legs wave fearfully for a moment, and then it goes limp in his hand.

The ley energy punches out of him, and he sits back on his ankles, winded.

Adam gazes down at the jewelled beetle in his palm, its siblings scattered out like shell casings around his knees. Dreams, all of them. Briefly, impossibly roused in a dead city. He stands, letting the beetle drop from his hand and bounce across the concrete. He kicks them all hurriedly behind a nearby bench, mind racing. Bugs from an exhibit next door, no doubt. Dormant animals, transplanted from their habitats and pinned in place for decades.

What kind of ecoterror was wrought to bring about a flash flood of energy in a drought? How must Ronan be feeling, out there in the world, wracked with waking dreams? What unimaginable monsters were just stirring in the shadows because of him? Is Bryde one of them?

His lives are merging. The distant rumbling of thunder is overhead now, and the downpour is rolling in. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep dry.

Standing in that alleyway by himself, drained and ordinary again, he feels terribly alone.

He weighs his feelings against his logic for several agonizing minutes, standing still and watchful as a predator. He recalls the jarringly clinical accounts of Ronan's most intimate dreams, the sparsely encoded language in those government files outlining the world-ending dangers of something Adam had, for a long time, shared a bed with.

If something happens to Ronan now, it might kill Adam. If something happens because of Ronan, it might kill everybody.

Another minute, and he has his phone out and ringing.

“Hello?” Declan answers. Oddly, it’s not his usual prickly greeting. He sounds almost jovial.

Adam looks out into the darkening street, feeling like a death omen, a shadow across someone’s doorstep. “We really need to talk about Bryde.”

______

It’s the worst possible time for Declan to be withholding information from him.

Adam had graciously tipped his hand and Declan was, infuriatingly, holding back, as if this was a low grade in Ronan’s high school algebra class, and not the cataclysmic fuck-up of a powerful dreamer.

Declan, so uncannily like his brother in vulnerable moments like this, had thought of Matthew first. A world where dreams could stay awake, he’d marvelled. As if they could afford to think so small.

Once, Adam had awoken to find his arm glued to the bedspread. Ronan had dreamt a bee-less hive in the night, and it was oozing a steady stream of honey into the sheets between them.

“Score,” Ronan had said, when he’d rolled back into his body. “Sting-free. Fucking vegan.”

“What happens when we don’t want any more honey?” Adam had asked, critically. Ingesting dreams always felt like a slippery subject. “Does it shut off like a faucet?”

It didn’t. Ronan filled a dozen amber jars full, and then abandoned the hive in a dusty kiddy pool in one of the barns near the back of his family property.

A month later, Opal had crept in through a window looking for trouble, and emerged, shrieking, in a viscous flood of syrup.

Combing the mess out of Opal’s fur, her little legs slung across his lap, Ronan had complained about the magnitude of the clean-up job he would have to do, the special honey hoover he would have to create, what a waste of a dream it would be. Adam reminded him of his faucet idea.

“Too late for that, Parrish,” he’d griped.

It was their pattern. A marvel, too good to be true. Adam, the skeptic. Ronan, too in love with creation to care about consequences.

Eventually, it will all be too late.

Ronan will pursue this liberation fantasy, this golden daydream, even if it never stops oozing. Even if it makes the whole world uninhabitable.

______

That night, Adam tries to scry for the first time in months.

He gently pushes the crying club—only tenuously placated after the tarot incident—to have drinks without him, claiming stress-induced fatigue. He leaves his study notes open and blinking on the bed, lights a sad little tea light, and casts himself out into the ether.

Straining hard, he searches for the familiar contours of Ronan’s dreamspace, plucking the distant strings of the ley line and listening for the particular timbre of Ronan’s consciousness.

He doesn’t like walking this tightrope without a net, but Harvard isn’t exactly flush with psychic spotters. He keeps a delicate balance, far from his body, inching closer and closer to Ronan’s mind, the safe plateau at the end of this rope.

Eventually, he finds himself in a grey bedroom. It's full to the gills with water, there's a toy sailboat bobbing past at chest height, and storm clouds huddling nervously on the ceiling. Adam’s hair plasters instantly to his scalp.

“Ronan?” he calls, sloshing through the curiously luminous water. It starts raining harder. A familiar, curly-headed child stares at him through the darkness, eyes sharpened into silver points in the moonlight. “Ronan?” he asks again, gently this time.

A muffled sentence, a sad, crumpled expression, and then Adam is staring at a closed door.

“What—let me in! Ronan!” He pounds at the door. “Come on!” He can still feel rainwater, unnaturally warm on his neck.

A voice in his head, not Ronan, whispers, turn back.

“No,” he snaps, knocking harder. “Just let me—“ A sudden gust of wind in his sails, and he’s ejected from the dream altogether.

He pinwheels for a horrifying, weightless moment, struggling to tune back in to the feeble light from his stubby candle, and then dragging himself, hand over fist, back to his dorm room.

“Fuck, Lynch,” he says, when he has a voice. “Don’t be stupid.” He recrosses his legs, shaking off the pointless, clinging feeling of rejection.

When he tries to reach out again, searching, searching, Ronan’s expecting him. He never makes it past the threshold.

Back in his body, he knocks his candle over, relishing the controlled destruction, the spill of wax, the sizzle of the squashed wick. A fire he can actually put out.

______

The next time Adam scrys, Ronan looks like himself. Maybe a little scruffier, with what looks like a tunnel piercing on his right ear, and a rare openness to his posture. He’s lounging in a pasture up against a sleeping cow, boots up.

As Adam watches, he tips his shaved head back into its mottled hide, and the sun makes his eyelashes into lit matchsticks. He loves him very much. He’d almost forgotten.

“Don’t lock me out,” he says quickly. Ronan opens his eyes, and when he sees him he smiles instinctively.

“Adam,” he says, vaguely. And then he locks him out.

“No,” he cries. “Would you listen to me.” He feels for the fissure in space and time, the pocket where Ronan is dreaming, sweetly and inaccessibly, about the only home Adam has ever known.

Nothing gives. Nobody replies. He crawls back to Harvard, weak with misery.

In the next dream, Ronan is older, driving a boxy jeep over a foreign landscape. Rolling Irish hills, skies humming with artificial energy. A woman who can only be Jordan Hennessy, chattering in the passenger seat.

Then it’s Ronan with his head in his dead mother’s lap, stroking the downy wing of a black swan.

Then Ronan and Hennessy again, opposite one another in a sunny gallery. One of them examining an impressionist portrait no bigger than a postcard, the other examining the exit.

Then Ronan, discovering Matthew’s corpse in a dim hallway, blinking furiously at the stranger crouched over his prone body. “What did you do?” He sounds like a kid reprimanding his sibling for getting them both in trouble.

Every time Adam gets close, some defence mechanism stops him, like a firm hand against his chest, pushing him away again and again.

He doesn't know what to do except keep trying.

______

Blankly, he looks down at a sink full of tinfoil and uneasy water. In pieces, he becomes aware of his surroundings—green stalls and laminate countertops, a row of hundred-watt lightbulbs, and somebody rattling the locked doorknob.

“Adam, are you in there?” Fletcher. “We’re going to be late. It’s nearly ten. Adam?”

“Just a minute, sorry,” Adam slurs. He stares closely at his face in the mirror until he recognizes his own features. He has an exam at 10:30. He glances down at his watch. 9:52. He had been so sure that he could just drift for a few minutes, maybe catch Ronan before he woke up. That was almost an hour ago.

He drains the sink, hands shaking, cuffs getting damp. The lightbulb filaments float behind his eyelids when he blinks. He throws his satchel over his shoulder, smooths his hair up and out of his eyes, and rubs the bags under his eyes until they hurt.

When he lets himself out of the bathroom, Fletcher is directly outside, tapping a nervous rhythm on his hips. His hands fly from his body and into the air at the sight of him.

“Adam! Thank god. I’ll cancel the search party.”

“I got lost in my notes,” Adam says, as they both make for the stairs.

“Of course you did,” Fletcher says warmly. “A supremely Adam move. I just hope you’re taking care of yourself. Gillian thinks you might be—well—not spiralling, but—“

“I’m handling it.” He takes several mental paces backwards. “Uh—poorly, clearly. I’m sorry Fletcher, I didn’t mean to snap.”

Fletcher, to his credit, recovers quickly. “I can’t imagine going through my first semester of college and a break-up at the same time. You’re a stronger man than I.”

Adam rather doubts that Fletcher can imagine going through a break-up at all, but he nods conspiratorially. They hop down the last few steps and out into the chilly sunshine together.

“You’d be amazed what one can do out of necessity.”

“Too true. We all have our hidden depths, don’t we,” Fletcher says thoughtfully. For a moment, Adam considers telling him—something, looping him into this tangled web with him, but then he says, “now, chapter twenty-three wasn’t on the outline, was it? I beg you to say no. Lie, if you must.”

And Adam is a student again. He doesn’t have out of body episodes. He doesn’t carry wads of tinfoil in his trouser pockets. He doesn’t keep deadly secrets from people whom he is mostly pretending to like and understand.

They walk onwards, towards a test which Adam will rouse himself for long enough to ace. Then he will think of the next thing, and the next. Appease these school acquaintances of his. Tinker with finicky car engines. Make flash cards. Drift into the beyond using one of Fletcher’s three-wick candles from pottery barn. Text Declan, who activates Ronan’s accountability in a way that Adam does not. Call Gansey, if he can bring himself to face his disappointment.

And clear away his feelings, which keep pouring out of him like so much honey.

______

Ronan hangs up on him, and Adam holds himself in the biting wind outside the library for a very long time.

He’d thought, if he could only speak to him, that he could begin to undo Bryde’s poisonous influence. They know each other. They’ve known each other. Ronan would listen to Adam’s fears as he always does. Adam would appeal to Ronan’s heart, which tends to ache for helpless things. They would see how lost they had become without each other. Adam would be allowed back into Ronan’s dreams, and Ronan would be allowed back into Adam’s future.

Why didn’t you text back?

As if they’ve been suspended in time since Ronan’s last tamquam, and none of it—the running away, warding his dreams against Adam, abandoning his phone, trusting a complete stranger over his friends and family—had ever happened.

It’s absurd. He should have expected it. Ronan was searching for a reason to stay, and when he looked for his reflection, his second self, Adam wasn’t there. For a single moment, he wasn’t there, and now he’s paying for it.

Impatient, wrathful Ronan. Leaping from the moving vehicle because Adam was going the speed limit. Going rogue, and then calling Adam with all of these stinging accusations, like he was the one who’d been abandoned.

He thinks again of Bryde manipulating Ronan, preying on his loneliness, his love for his brothers, his fear of himself. This big bad rumour, older and crueler than the Lace itself.

And Ronan letting himself be manipulated, putting on blinders, using Adam’s brief silence as an endorsement for a glorified joyride with unthinkable global ramifications. Self-destructing because things got a little too quiet.

Adam feels hot rage taking ahold of him with its sticky fingers.

Then he thinks of Ronan saying I need to see you, his thin, frightened voice finding Adam from somewhere out there in the city, and his anger goes clammy.

There’s no way Ronan will call again. Negotiations were off as soon as Adam refused to house them both from the Moderators.

And now, without Hennessy, Ronan is the last arrow in Bryde’s quiver. He’s going to be the explosive that brings everything down. He’s going to be buried at ground zero.

If I'd replied an hour sooner, would he really have waited? If I’d gone to school closer, would I have noticed him disintegrating? If I explained that my dream isn’t what I thought it would be either, that he’s the only thing that feels real, would he have said it back to me?

After everything that’s happened, am I going to be the one who gives up on Ronan Lynch?

Everything is so fucked.

He calls Declan.

He picks up on the first ring. “Parrish—”

“He hung up on me,” they both say at the same time.

“Mother of God,” Declan moans. “Then there’s no hope. He thinks I sold him out to the Mods.”

“Did you?”

“No. I did exactly as we discussed. I negotiated for his safety. I thought—I mean, you said it yourself, Adam. Being anti-apocalypse is a pretty solid platform.”

He shakes his head. “Ronan won’t see it that way. He’s not like us. He doesn’t want to be moderated even a little bit.”

“Believe me, I know that. The way he was talking—about the world screwing them over, all of them, dreamers. That’s not the way my brother thinks. That’s all Bryde. And now he’s taken him—Christ—Christ knows where.”

“He wanted to see me,” Adam feels compelled to say. “He was trying to come here.”

“He said that? That's good,” Declan says, relieved. “Where—“

“I let him get away,” Adam says, through numb lips. “I let him go.”

______

He texts Gansey, things have gone south, and then he turns his phone on silent.

His puts his fingertips to the floorboards, a knobbly hand on either side of a scrying tableau: the leaping flame of a candle, a well-organized pile of cards, his overturned phone and discarded tie. He’s just finished crying, and he feels volatile and ill-prepared even as he ties himself to the flickering light.

His mind races through the night like a skipped stone. Vaguely, he pictures a vast body of water and a glittering mountain range, with no horizon line in-between. Darkness reflected in darkness.

“Ronan,” he calls. The dreamspace whirs and grinds its gears and won’t reply. “You know this is wrong. You know, or you wouldn't be hiding from me.”

It’s all water out here in this sublime mirror-space, but it’s also warm, like the steam rising from a hot spring. Something is moving, changing things on a chemical level.

For a moment he thinks he sees himself, a wan doppelgänger with its hands raised. But it’s not Adam. It’s Bryde. Cool, sturdy, a pale Atlas holding the dream together on his back. He recognizes him instinctively.

Adam deliberately throws his mind closer, into the terrible heart of this fire Ronan is creating. Smoke whispers and catches all around him, and it’s even harder to tell the difference between things now. No horizon, no seam, no reality, no death.

What have you done? What are you doing?

The heat is quickly becoming unbearable. Adam is stretched too thin, and the fire is fraying him, eating through each fibre of his connection to reality.

Ronan, please, I need you to stop. I’m losing my grip. Listen to me.

And then, without any warning at all, he collapses on his dorm room floor.

He hacks and retches, lungs full of phantom smoke. Everything feels very wrong. He thinks for a second that he’s blind, but it’s not his vision, it’s another, less tangible sense, it’s—

He scrambles backwards on his hands, heaving. He tries to pull himself up onto his bed, head first, then chest, but he has to stop with his face buried in the comforter.

Ronan is—he must be—he’s—

“God, no, oh my god, no, no.”

He needs to throw up. He needs to call somebody. There’s complete silence in his head.

He was slingshotted back to Cambridge, swatted back along the zipline to his body, because there was nowhere else for him to go.

He’s sure, in a very non-magical, intuitive way, that every dream in the world has just collectively collapsed. Adam staggers to his feet. There’s a smoke alarm going off, somewhere. A background hum of electricity groaning as it shuts off. A high, scared voice.

As if in a trance, he goes to the window.

There are five dead lightbulbs in the nearest row of street lamps, what looks like a sleeping child out in the middle of the square, and a woman clutching her chest and sitting slowly on a bench.

Panic is deadening his senses, crawling blackly into his mouth and nose and eyes. He thinks of Matthew sitting weakly by the window. Opal slumped over a stump in the woods. Chainsaw falling from the sky like a stone. Gansey’s Cabeswater heart decaying in his chest. Ronan, either dissolving into nightwash or felled by a Moderator’s bullet, dead, lost, or powerless.

Every morsel of magic, every innovation, every cherished friend, every sacred place, turned off like a faucet.

The world outside, drooping and disconnected, is now exactly as ordinary as Adam has been pretending it is.

The ley line is gone.