#what's the BET he goes to the local shops after school just to buy her her favourite sweeties | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mizunetzu · 4 years

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hi!! i just found your blog and i may or may not have binged all the fics 😼😼 i was wondering if you could write a dabi or hawks x male reader where the reader is a rly gentle and kind barista and dabi/hawks is just wHIPPED for him? i think thatd be mad cute 👉👈

LMAOOO DABI + HAWKS TIME TURN IT UP-

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Headcannons - Dabi and Hawks whipped for their local barista

⚠️Warnings - kidnapping (dabi)

Pronouns - male, he/him

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Dabi:

Ok so like hear me out

At first

AT FIRST

you didn’t catch this mans eye

In fact, he didn’t go to the coffee shop you worked at much because yknow...villain...

But it was late at night one day yk

And mans was like “oh boy, i sure am thirsty after committing homcide and robbery”

N the first place he sees

Dun dun dun

Is the 24 hr coffee shop you worked at HAHAHA

So he goes in, preparing to like-idk, threaten ur life for a cup of coffee or smth mean n whatnot

The door bell rings, and you turn around and give him the KINDEST MOST GENTLE-EST SMILE HES EVER SEEN

As a villain, and just someone who looks out of the ordinary in general, he never got much of that

SO WHEN HE SEES THIS...MAN SMILING FUCKING SUN RAYS AT HIM

HE FREEZES

You ask him if he’s ok, and DAMN UR VOICE WAS SO SOFT IT WAS BARELY INAUDIBLE WHAGSHDHEH

Mans usually isn’t at a loss for words but HE IS NOW

Instead of threatening you for a cup of coffee, he actually orders like a normal person

He’s the only one in the cafe since it’s so late, and you had the late night shift lucky you

He sat in the corner with his coffee in silence, occasionally stealing glances at you sweeping the floor or counting the money in the register

what was this foreign feeling in his chest whavabwhshs

He didn’t notice when you walked up to him

mans almost roasted you alive

LMAO BUT HE DIDNT SO IT OK

“Are you doing okay? Do you want a refill?”

He wasn’t really thirsty anymore but he did get a refill because he wanted to stay and watch you work some more like a creep

Yeah, one refill turned to three and he ended up talking to you for the rest of the night AWW

He was honestly suprised you didn’t know he was a villain, with the dark coat and scars and stuff

He ended up buying more coffee to take back to the league with the money he stole HAHAHA

Toga, sipping on her third coffee: yo why u buy so much damn

Dabi: 🤠

He started coming over more and more in the dead of night, on the days you worked which he totally didn’t find out by sneaking into the back room of the cafe and checking the schedule

You, somehow, didn’t find it suspicious that he’d always visit whenever you worked

One day, on one of the numerous times he’s visited, you mentioned how you used to be a bartender before switching over to being a barista

Something just...clicked

He’s a villain, right? Why’s he going so far to appeal to you, when he could just kidnap you and convince you to join the league?

So he did just that

You woke up in their weird club bar room hideout, tied to a chair with dabi and a few unfamiliar faces

Dabi lowkey felt bad (even for him) because even though you were literally just kidnapped, you gave him one of those heartwarming smiles

Even if it was a bit scared and forced, and probably a coping mechanism out of fear

“Look I ain��t gonna hurt you, dude. You’re one of my favorite people, so I’m offering you a deal.”

“Siiiiiiimp.”

“Shut the fuck up, Toga.”

Dabi nudged the girls side.

A girl with blond hair and a school girls uniform pointed a knife at you. You flinched and dabi kept talking

“You said you used to be a bartender, right? I’m sure you can help this guy out behind the counter. Join us.”

Dabi motioned at Kurogiri. He waved, LMAOO

“Join me...please”

As scared as you were, you couldn’t deny the fact you had a soft spot for this scarily intimating man who’d sit in the corner and sip coffee everyday at work

Hell, sometimes (all the time LNAJS) you joined him and you’d talk for hours

And hearing this guy say “please” for the first time?

You nodded slowly, and dabi smiled

It was a nice smile, even if it was a bit scary

How could you possibly refuse?

——————

Hawks:

Since he wasn’t yknow...fucking iilegal and a villain, he came by to your coffee shop during the day

He was workin, caught and turned in a villain yk the usual

And he was kinda far away from his house, n he was gettin kinda hungry

He was flying around the city, when he spotted your lil coffee shop

Well, it wasn’t really a coffee shop, more like a food stop that so happens to sell coffee n drinks aswell

And hEY

you just opened up too, it was a relatively new place

My mans hawks supporting new & local businesses <3

He goes in right

He sees yakitori on the menu and goes :D

So he goes to order

And sees this,,, BEAUTIFUL HANDSOME MAN BEHIND THE COUNTER

“Hi Mister! What can I do you for?”

YOUR VOICE WAS LIKE FUCKING ANGELS SINGING WHAGSHW

I think the main reason hawks was drawn to you was the fact you didn’t treat him like a celebrity and kissed his ass n whatnot, mainly bc you didn’t really keep up nor care about the trending hero’s and stuff (no offense to hawks and none taken)

He choked on his yakitori when you walked up to his lil table and asked for a picture for ur grandpa (who was a BIG fan, unlike you)

MANS REALLY HAD TO PUT ON HIS MOST CHARMING SMILE AND PEACE SIGN THIS SIMP IM HDHEIDIE

He kept going out of his way to visit ur shop frequently even though he lived preeeeetty far off

I mean mans has wings so it ain’t a problem but-

This simp-

He doesn’t show up in his hero outfit (unless he’s coming from patrol) so you didn’t really see him as “Hawks the hero”, more like “Keigo, the man who has stupid endeavor shorts and likes yakitori”

It’s really sweet he shows up in stupid graphic shirts and sweatpants he looks comfy-

He openly flirts with you, and at first you laughed and smiled because you didn’t wanna be rude (it still did things to Keigos heart)

but then

Ur laughs n smiles when he drops a stupid pickup line? They real

The way you offer to take over ur coworkers shifts just to see if Hawks stops by? It’s love just admit it

The totally unfair discount you gave him on yakitori, not mentioning the way you know how Keigo prefers it by heart? Just ask him out already DAMN

You two didn’t have any personal info on eachother, no numbers, emails, hell, Keigo didn’t know your first name (in Japan, you don’t really go by first names unless ur with fam or close friends yk?)

So when you nervously hand him his box of yakitori one day?

Hawks is like 🤠👍?

He opens it and sees:

“(Xxx)-xxx-xxxx -call me, and maybe we can, I don’t know, go out on a date and get to know each other more, yakitori-kun? ~(Y/n)

So ur first name was (Y/n), huh

HES WHIPPED

HES SIMPING

He looks over at you, hiding ur face and sneaking glances at him while ur coworkers stiffing snickers and nudging ur side

GOD TAKE HIM NOW

you bet ur ass hes calling u later and saving ur contact as “My yakitori man (Y/n) ✨❤️”

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Thank y’all for 700, by the way !! I love you all !!

#dabi x reader #dabi x gender neutral reader #dabi x male reader #dabi #dabi my hero academia #hawksbnha #my hero academia hawks #hawks x male reader #hawks headcanons #dabi headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha fanfiction #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader

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okay-victoria · 3 years

Text

Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go ��

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

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mikasaessucasaa · 3 years

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Title: Flatlanders

Summary: After being forced to retire from singing, Sansa returns to Winterfell Ranch, a place she hasn’t called home in over ten years, and finds the man that she left behind all those years ago.

Part 1 .... Part 2

1991

King’s Landing, TX

Sansa’s hair was a frizzy mess. It wasn’t usually so humid this far inland, but of course the moment she came back was the same week that the summer storms started. It only ever rained once a year when she lived in LA.

And now she was trekking around town when the sky looked like it was about to open up. She needed to fix a broken fence that’s been neglected for weeks. And she needed to talk to the bank and get their finances sorted. What the hell has Arya been doing all this time?

Fence first. Bank later. And maybe she’ll get so busy getting wood that she might not even have to see Petyr.

And of course it started pouring as soon as she pulled up to the Night's Watch General Store. Damn. It better not be a flash flood. She should have listened when Mama told her to bring a damn umbrella. Bless Sansa’s heart.

Accepting her fate, she steeled herself and made a dash from the truck to the front door. Even the thirty seconds it took her to get inside was enough to make her look like a drowned rat. Forget frizzy hair, her auburn hair was soaked and limp.

She was greeted by a familiar face, but she couldn’t place his name, not having seen him in over a decade. He was scrawny and of average height with short cropped hair.

“Sansa! Woah, never thought I’d see you again in these neck of the woods.”

Honestly, neither did she.

She looked at his name badge. Ah. Pyp. One of Jon’s lackeys who used to follow him around high school. She thought it was adorable back then. She wondered if he still talked to Jon.

“Jon’s gonna be so happy to see you.” She doubted it, but she nodded and smiled. “How can I help ya today?”

“Got a whole section of my fence broken. I think from lightning a couple of weeks ago.”

Pyp showed her a couple of different options. She wanted to buy the cedar since it would last longer through the unpredictable Texas weather, but she saw their finances, and Mama definitely understated just how much trouble the ranch was in. She didn’t know how long her own cash was going to last with her singing voice now gone.

So she went with the pine instead. She’ll deal with it later.

“I’ll give you the friends and family discount,” Pyp said when he rung her up. As she was signing the check, he pulled out another piece of paper and asked, “Do you mind also signing this? My niece loves your music. She’s always jamming to your album on her little boombox.”

Sansa hadn't thought she was that popular. She had one or two songs played on the radio nationally, and produced a couple of songs for commercials. She bet it was her local celebrity fame that made her popular down here.

She gave her signature and hauled ass out of her store with her fence posts while the rain momentarily stopped. She covered her new purchase with a tarp and settled back into her truck.

She checked the time, and damn the bank was still open.

So she made her way over to the Eyrie Bank. Her parents had only ever gone to one bank their entire life because it was owned by a family friend. Papa had been good friends with Jon Arryn for a long time before he passed, and then Aunt Lysa remarried a childhood friend, Petyr Baelish.

To Sansa, Petyr had always been the creepy uncle, but if anyone could help her sort out the mess with the ranch, he could.

There weren’t many customers when she entered the bank, so of course they let Petyr know right away that she was there to see him.

He smiled that creepy smile that he always had, as if he wanted to devour her. It was the same look music producers always gave her when she entered the room. They always undressed her with their eyes first before they bothered listening to her demos.

And she smiled back, as he leaned forward and held her in a too intimate hug. Gross. “Sansa, my dear. It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much over these last twelve years.”

“Same here, Uncle Baelish.”

“I wish you had come to visit more often.”

“Well you know what it’s like for artists trying to break in.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to give up everything to chase your dreams. You’re so brave.” Liar. Everybody knew that Sansa was forced to leave.

Sansa smiled more. “Thank you Uncle.”

Baelish led them to his private office, and the way that he patted her shoulder after he closed the door made her uncomfortable, but she held it in as she watched him take a seat.

“So how can I help you, my sweetling?”

“I need you to walk me through the Winterfell finances.”

“Certainly, I’ll make it as easy as I can for you to follow.”

Sansa started tapping her finger against the arm rest.

She resented his insinuation. She didn’t finish high school, but she learned to manage her finances, learned how much the Lannisters stole from her, knew how much she willfully turned away from because she needed the Lannisters as much as she hated them.

Still he did make it easy for her to understand, all the while outlining all of the paperwork.

Mama had been behind on bank payments for a long time, even after being given extensions consistently. Eventually, even Petyr’s generosity, so he says, couldn’t save the ranch. So Robb took out a private loan to cover the bank payments.

“Another bank?” she asked.

“No more personal than that. I believe Robb was good friends with Rhaegar’s boy.” He probably wanted to say bastard, but knew better since he was Robb’s best friend.

But she couldn't believe that Robb would be stupid enough to take out a loan from the Valyrian Dragons. Maybe he had a death wish after all.

“And that’s what’s keeping the ranch afloat now? Do you know how much we owe?”

Petyr gave a number and it wasn’t absurd, but, “This interest rate is insane. We won’t ever be able to touch the principle.”

Petyr shrugged. “I did try to warn your dear brother. I told him that it would be better for the bank to repossess the ranch. We would have certainly allowed your family to manage it still.” But he would own it all. “But alas your brother couldn’t see sense.”

She couldn’t tell if Robb was a prideful fool, or smart not to fall into bed with Petyr.

She thanked Petyr for his time and headed to the Dragon’s clubhouse. She had dreaded this part of coming home. Sansa hadn’t seen Jon in twelve years, and she didn’t know what kind of man he grew up to be. He had always been kind and sweet as a child, but kind and sweet men don’t join the Valyrian Dragons.

But she had to know if Robb had a plan all along, or if he was dumb enough to leave his family and the ranch at the mercy of the Dragons.

The clubhouse didn’t know if it wanted to be an auto shop or a bar or a boarding house, just the kind of trashy place that you would find in the south, because what else could it be?

She never thought she’d actually step in this place.

When she was still in school, the girls used to whisper about how they dreamed they would lose their virginities to one of the Dragons’ members. Egg would be ideal, with his pretty boy charm and silver hair, but Jon would do — he may have been shy back then, but the girls all took it as mysterious and dangerous. She wondered if the girls’ assumptions became true in his adulthood.

She assumed Egg must have been successful in popping a lot of cherries, but in her loneliness she sometimes liked to think that she was the only one for Jon, that she was somehow special, despite the mess she left.

There were a couple of pretty girlies loitering in the bar area of the clubhouse when she entered. They teetered around on high heels and tight skirts and tops, and suddenly Sansa wished she had the foresight to dress for battle. Instead she was wearing her stupid ripped jeans, work boots, and a white tee with a flannel shirt.

The girlies turned to look at her and their excited chatter died down. She’s guessing the red hair gave her away, or she really was more popular than she thought.

Out of the crowd of girlies, a silver haired woman emerged in black stilettos, leather pants and a black corset top. Shit, who could wear leather pants in this weather except for Daenerys Stormborn?

“So it’s true, the prodigal Stark daughter returns,” Dany said sweetly, but Sansa knew there was nothing sweet about the woman. She was all fire and ash. Dany probably thrived on the club wars.

Sansa shrugged. “Everyone’s gotta come home sometime.”

“Only when they’re incapable of surviving the world out there.”

“But at least I went out into the world.” Instead of being trapped in this hellhole.

“Only goes to show that you don’t belong here.”

“Winterfell is my home.” Even Sansa would have rolled her eyes at herself if she heard her speak.

“But the clubhouse isn’t. What do you want?”

“I need to speak to Jon.”

“No. You left him a mess all those years ago, and you think you can come waltzing in here years later and just talk to him? Wake up honey. He won’t want to talk to you.” Dany crossed her arms. “Whatever you want to say to Jon, you can tell to his girl.”

Dany had always wanted to claw her way into the Targaryens, maybe she finally did.

“It’s got nothing to do with you Dany.”

Dany waved her hand, flashing an engagement ring. “See this here? Says it’s got everything to do with me, missy.”

Sansa’s heart started pounding uncomfortably in her chest and she felt nauseous and lightheaded. Shit. Of all the damn times to have an anxiety attack.

She stumbled backwards into something solid.

“Sansa.”

The low, broken sound snapped her towards the man.

“Jon,” Sansa said, equally as broken.

Part 3

#Flatlanders #jonsa #retired singer sansa #rancher sansa #mc jon snow #motorcycle club jon snow #Title is from the Texas country band FYI #also what am I doing #someone tell me to write TGW instead

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maybankiara · 4 years

Text

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

14: FRIENDS

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.

w/c: 4k

a/n: this is compensation for ch 12. also check if you’ve read the previous chapter bc apparently tumblr didn’t notify people??? also check this out before reading!!!! it’s a cute reference for later on in the chapter and will 107% enhance your experience ok

read on wattpad

previous part | series masterlist

Drew is late. Obviously.

According to the time displayed over a candid photo of Drew grimacing (she still hasn’t changed it back to normal, not even after Holden noticed it), it’s only thirty-five minutes past noon. Addie sits at the corner table of Waystone with a cup of warm coffee sitting in front of her, trying to kill time.

On a shelf behind her, there’s a nice green plant. Addie doesn’t know anything about plants, but she does like the way this one looks – it fits the creamy brown of the coffee shop walls. It was actually Marianne who introduced her to the spot, and Addie hadn’t been a lover of staying in for a coffee until then, but the girl made her fond of the European tradition. She was only happy that Drew seemed to be fond of it, too.

Plus, there aren’t many people inside with her right now. Most already came in the early hours of the morning or will come in the afternoon or evening, after work. Addie presumed that’ll make Drew feel less worried about being recognised.

Before she met him, Addie didn’t think Drew would be a little… awkward, to put it that way. She spent some time thinking about it, then chalked it up to the circumstances of their meeting. As much as she’s still aware that he's an actor, and not an unsuccessful one at that, she reckons he must be aware that she is someone who’s seen his work. That’s the whole reason why they met in the first place.

So, Addie has decided to take it upon herself to eradicate that barrier between them, one way or the other. She banned Marianne from acting like Drew is the Drew Starkey from Outer Banks instead of Addie’s acquaintance Drew, and she asked the same from her other friends.

It sounds easy. It’s supposed to be easy.

When she sees Drew walk into the coffee shop and smile at the waitress, then glance around, looking for Addie, she takes a deep breath and gives him a small wave.

Addie will make it easy.

‘Hey, sorry I’m late.’ Drew plops down onto the chair with ease. He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt and a light blue baseball cap that he takes off and puts on a table, throwing around a subtle glance, before his eyes set on Addie.

She smiles at him. ‘Don’t worry, I expected you to be.’

His shoulders visibly relax a little, and he nods at the cup in front of her. ‘So, you got coffee already?'

‘Yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t sure how long I’d be waiting here and I didn’t want to seem rude by just sitting here, not buying anything. I wouldn’t want the girl to get in trouble because of me.’

‘No, it’s fine, don’t worry. Is there a menu?’

‘Yeah.’ Addie leans over and reaches for the menu that’s propped on a holder on the empty table next to them, then hands it to him. ‘We didn’t get one.’

‘Right.’

Drew shuffles through the pages of the menu with a slight wrinkle between his brows. Addie notices how they’re almost straight, one a bit thicker than the other, and something about that makes the corners of her lips tug ever so slightly upwards.

‘Are we getting just coffee or do you want something to eat, too?’

‘I planned on getting food when I’m back at my place,’ Addie admits. ‘But you’re more than free to get something, I won’t mind.’

‘Alright. I’ll be right back.’

He gets up with a tap to the table, and he’s off to the counter. The girl working behind it doesn’t freak out when he approaches her, so Addie figures she doesn’t recognise him.

Not too long ago, Addie was working in a small coffee shop, back in Denver. That’s what she spent most of her summers doing – travelling was something that was for after she’s done with all her studies, and working was what gave her the money she needed for both. She wonders if a celebrity—or as much of one as Drew is—ever approached her and she didn't know.

Maybe. So far, she hasn’t recognised any of the faces, and Denver isn’t really a place for celebrities as much as Atlanta is.

The sound of chatter fills the space. Drew is making the waitress laugh, half-leaning against the counter as he rests his hand on it.

It’s not flirtatious, at least not as far as Addie can tell. He ends up waving to the girl and comes back to the table with a wide grin.

‘That’s Nikki,’ he answers Addie’s unasked question as he takes a seat. ‘One of my friends used to date her, she hung out with my group a few years back. Didn’t know she works here now.’

‘Oh, cool.’ Addie remembers her promise not to make things awkward, so she relaxes into her chair, takes a sip of her coffee. ‘What did you order?’

‘Latte and strawberry pancakes.’

‘So you’re a latte and strawberry kind of dude.’

Drew lets out a chuckle, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. ‘Judgy much?’

‘Nope. Just thought you’d be, hm…’ Her thoughts trail away, and she rests her elbows on the table, placing her chin on her palms. She looks at him, at the rough lines of his face – the high cheekbones, the long eyebrows, the kind, intelligent blue eyes, and lips that seem oddly soft. ‘Black with a sprinkle of milk. And, like, a croissant or something. Strawberry’s good, though, I approve.’

Drew’s pose mimics hers, and it takes all in her to keep herself from laughing. ‘Your pronunciation of croissant is very... French.’

‘My roommate is half French. You bet she made sure I knew how to pronounce croissant.’

‘Ha. Knew it.’ At this, Addie quirks an eyebrow. Drew sighs. ‘Fine. I didn’t. I thought you were French.’

‘Wrong. Denver, born and raised.’

‘Well.’ The smile he gives her is playful, and a whole lot more open than any she’s seen on him before. ‘Guess we read each other wrong.’

Just as Addie is about to reply, the waitress—Nikki—greets them, placing a mug identical to Addie’s in front of him. Drew thanks her and she tells him the pancakes will be in a few minutes, then walks away.

‘Hey, Drew,’ calls Addie. She raises her mug and nods at him to do the same. When he does, she clinks the mugs together. ‘To getting to know each other.’

The actor repeats the word with a smile.

They chat, for a bit, mostly about coffee preferences. Addie tells him how she started with having straight black every morning back in high school, switched it to afternoon in college, then to drinking cappuccino in her senior year. He tells her how he drinks straight black when on set, a habit from college, and latte is what he rewards himself with when he's not working.

A bit later, Nikki comes back with a tray, as promised. Drew makes small talk as she puts a pancake plate with chocolate poured over the strawberries on top, and then she places another one in front of Addie.

‘Thanks, Nikki,’ says Drew before Addie gets a word in. The girl walks away, and he eyes the plate in front of Addie. ‘You said you like these, right?’

Addie just stares at him, for a moment. She thinks she should say something, ask why he got one for her, too, and then— ‘I do. Thanks.’ A beat. ‘You didn’t have to.’

‘Hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.’ His mouth is already full, fork and knife in one hand each.

Of course Addie can’t help but smile.

She takes the cutlery herself and dives into the pancake, making sure he can see her roll her eyes. ‘This better not be another way to apologise for stealing my phone.’

‘Nah, that’s not it. I just didn’t want to be the only one eating.’

The wide grin on his face is enough to tell her that he’s being honest about this.

Addie ends up teasing him a little more as they eat their pancakes and finish their latte and cappuccino. It gets easier, talking to Drew. She doesn’t even notice when the starting awkwardness turns to laughter and jokes, all caution and reservation either of them might’ve had, thrown out of the window.

Time goes by, and Addie doesn’t notice.

They end up deciding to go on a walk around the neighbourhood. There’s a nice park nearby that neither of them has been to in ages, so that’s on the agenda for the rest of whatever their time together. Addie snaps a quick photo of the coffee shop before they leave. She’s planning to do just the interior, when Drew leans into the frame, squirming a little.

Addie laughs and focuses the camera on him, taking a quick shot. ‘Already missing being in front of the camera, huh?’

‘Always.’ Drew makes a grimace at the camera, looking twenty-six and six at once. ‘Want me to take one of you?’

‘Nah,’ says Addie, shaking her head. She then turns her camera off and puts the phone into her back pocket, ready to leave.

Drew follows suit. He puts the plates one on the other, cutlery, too, and brings them to the counter. Addie follows his example and brings the cups. Nikki thanks them and Drew just waves her off, both of them saying goodbye to the waitress.

The air that blows into their faces as they leave the place is fresh and welcoming, a slight chill present even under the October sun.

She feels Drew bump into her. ‘What’s the deal with the photo?’

They take a turn around the corner as Addie gathers her thoughts, hands finding their way to her pockets. ‘I just like having evidence of the things that happen, I guess.’

‘But not posting it,’ he says. He lets out a nervous laugh then, scratching his nose. ‘Sorry, I stalked you a little.’

‘Fair. ‘Cause, you know, me too. Obviously. But yeah, I like my privacy. Putting shit out there is a bit... I don’t know, iffy, I guess.’

‘So you just take pictures of everything?’

‘Pretty much. It’s a great way of keeping memories.’

Drew takes a turn earlier than Addie would’ve expected, and she takes a second to follow. He waits for her to catch up to him, sighing as he does, as if doing so is a great bother.

Addie rolls her eyes again. ‘Don’t give me that face.’

‘What face?’

She points at him. ‘That face.’

They fall into step and it’s as easy as breathing. Drew’s presence at her side stops being something she’s aware of like a summer breeze, and more like the stability of summer warmth, instead.

‘What do you do with the photos?’ he asks.

Addie chuckles, a cheeky smile stretching over her face as she glances at him. ‘I print them. Put them in an album. Basically the exact thing our parents used to do.’

‘Why not just get a film camera, then?’

‘Because it’s weird to carry a film camera wherever you go. Or any camera, for that matter. Using your phone is just convenient, I guess.’

‘You’ve got a point.’

They turn another corner. Addie recognises the road – it’s about half an hour’s worth of walking back to her apartment, and in about five minutes, they’ll be at the park. Around them, birds chirp, high up in the skies. She hears a faraway plane, cars that pass by them speeding past over the limit, and kids screaming at one another in one of the back alleys, game or not.

The silence between them isn’t heavy. She hears their footsteps, too, hers faster than his. Drew’s close enough for her to just feel him at her side.

‘How long have you lived here?’ asks Addie.

Drew glances at her. ‘I moved here after graduation, so... about four, five years, now? It feels longer than that.’

Addie chuckles, hands in pockets. 'Yeah, I get that. How come you picked Atlanta?’

‘Job prospects, mostly.’

‘Ah, yes. The blooming film industry of Atlanta.’

‘It’s true! It’s no Hollywood, but it’s easier to find gigs here than in LA,’ he admits. ‘If I ever move to LA, it’ll be because I’ll think I've got enough of a resume to pick up some bigger roles.’

‘So no toilet commercials, then?’

Drew gives her a look that’s part disbelief, part amusement. It comes with a smile, so Addie gives him one in return.

At the point of walking into the park, Drew’s telling her about what his first experience of Atlanta was like. The girl finds herself laughing a lot – he’s a good storyteller, motioning with his hands a lot more than she’d expect him to, and a lot of the story benefits from the way his voice carries the words.

The bench they sit down on is in the middle of the park, right in front of a modest fountain. It used to be the pride and joy of the neighbourhood, Drew tells her, but someone kept trashing it and they eventually stopped trying to repair it.

‘It’s still kind of cute,’ Addie notes.

It makes him chuckle. ‘Right. You’re allowed to dislike it.’

‘Okay, it looks absolutely nothing like a park fountain and I’ll file a complaint to the major.’

‘That’s more like it!’

Addie gives him the same look he’d given her a couple minutes earlier, and he breaks into a big smile.

‘Stay like this,’ she tells Drew. ‘You're getting in front of the camera again.’

‘Oh, boy. As if that’s a problem.’

He begins to move in place almost immediately and Addie grunts, taking a quick snapshot before he’s able to ruin everything. She takes another one, and then another one, and before she knows it, they’re laughing their hearts out as Drew makes the oddest faces at her, tugging at his hair and saying some of the weirdest shit she’s ever heard.

Before she puts her phone away, she scrolls through the photos they’d taken. Drew leans closer, their shoulders touching, and watches them with her.

Addie is aware of his proximity in a way that she hasn’t been before. She feels his breath on her shoulder and his hand on the bench is dangerously close to her thigh; her thumb trembles a little and she really hopes he doesn’t notice.

Drew puts his finger on the screen just as she’s about to scroll forward. ‘I like this one.’

She chuckles.’'It’s not bad.'

‘Right? It should definitely be in one of your albums.’

The feeling that brushes over Addie in the moment after Drew says that is like a smile, but filling out the entirety of her body. Whatever barrier they had between the two of them, it’s gone now, as if it had never existed.

Addie composes herself, hoping Drew won’t think much of her hesitation. ‘Obviously. That’s where all photos of my friends go.’

Friends. The word hangs between them like a soft exclamation mark, an unspoken promise.

When Drew moves a little, Addie feels the sudden lack of heat at her side as if someone had blown cold air into the spot. ‘Good.’

Despite its ugliness and age enhanced by vandalism, the fountain has running water. The stream is just loud enough to notice if one is listening, as some of the machinery pushing the water upwards seems to be out of function. It’s a nice, soothing white noise – Addie feels as if time doesn't flow according to the same rules here.

The feeling inside her chest is something she’s never felt before, yet she can’t put it into words. It’s like trying to catch a thought without thinking about it – here and there and nowhere at once.

She wonders what Drew is thinking about.

He sits with his back against the wooden backside of the bench, one arm on the metal armrest. His eyes are fixated on the fountain in front of them, eyebrows slightly furrowed, lips parted in thought.

She looks at him, and he’s Drew. Not an actor; not a stranger.

Her friend Drew.

She sees him run his tongue over his lips, right before he turns to her. ��I’ve got a film camera. I should bring it sometime.’

Sometime – a promise of this not being the last time. A promise of this happening again, when he’s back from LA.

Addie faces him with a bright smile, her fingers fleeting in her lap. ‘You should also get an album. So we can keep the photos somewhere.’

‘Or we use one of yours,’ he suggests. ‘I don’t know anyone our age who still keeps albums.'

‘Physical copies are more secure and permanent than whatever we keep on our phones or in the cloud. It’s just the maths of odds.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yep.’

‘How long have you been collecting photos?’

Addie ponders about it for a second; the hum of water running fills the moments in-between. ‘Ten years, give or take.’

‘You’ve got the albums here?’

‘Some. Most are back in Denver, but I’ve got the ones I took here.’

‘Can I see them?’

The “now” is silent, but Addie hears it nonetheless. It sounds like the water running; it sounds like the “friends” they'd just declared themselves.

His eyes are looking into hers, deep and gentle; Addie is astonished at just how blue they are. She’d thought they’d be a clear blue, like a crystal glass, but they’re muddied with sprinkles of green and yellow, even some grey around the irises.

She nods. ‘Sure. My roommate is going to be out ‘till late, anyway.’

He nods, too, and smiles a little. ‘Cool.’

It’s settled – they’re going to Addie’s.

About half an hour later, Addie feels like she’s bringing an old friend to a new home. Their conversation feels up the walls of the building as they climb up the staircase – his laughter does’'t feel out of place here, even when they enter the apartment and Addie makes him take his shoes off.

‘Leave your coat here, shoes there, and feel free to take those slippers if you want. The albums are in the living room, underneath the stack of French books,’ Addie instructs as if she were reading it off a list. Drew chuckles and does as told, following her into the living room like a really tall puppy. ‘Want something to drink?’

‘You got a beer?’

Addie grins. ‘You bet.’

‘Thanks.’

She nods, already halfway to the kitchen, and holds herself still against the doorway to nod at him. ‘Which one?’

‘What you got?’

Addie hears him plop down onto the couch with a sigh of comfort and makes a mental note to tell Marianne that Drew Starkey enjoys the couch the French-Brit picked. She opens the fridge, eyes glancing over the assortment of beers (mostly courtesy of Marianne’s boyfriend, Tom). ‘Heineken, White Claw, Corona—’

‘I’ll take White Claw.’

‘Basic bitch!’

‘I like a reliable drink, alright!’

In the end, Addie walks back into the living room with two glasses, a can of White Claw, and a can of Heineken. She finds Drew on the floor instead of the couch, surrounded by a heap of albums that Addie recognises in a heartbeat, a familiar stack of French books shifted to the side.

The sight of Drew hunched over photos she took at her friend Leanne’s twenty-third birthday party last year makes her laugh, and the sound startles him.

‘Sorry,’ he says. His cheeks redden in an instant and he rests his palm flat on the album. ‘I didn’t mean to just start rummaging through your personal stuff.’

Addie shakes her head. ‘I told you where they were for a reason, Drew.’ She joins him on the floor, gives him a glass, fills it up to the brim, then pours Heineken into hers. ‘These are from a birthday party, the first one I attended in Atlanta. A little over a year ago. I met Leanne’—she points at the brown-skinned girl on one of the pictures—‘literally, like, a month before this. She was friends with Marianne’—points at the plump ginger-haired girl—‘before I met her.’

‘You met Marianne in Atlanta?’

‘Kind of. Give me a second.’ Addie leans over the album Drew’s got in his lap and reaches for the one furthest back. She flips the pages until she’s gone through about a fifth of the album, and the first photo that pops in the left upper corner of the page is a selfie of her and Marianne in no place other than Waystone.

Addie smiles at the picture with a fond smile on her lips. ‘This is when I met her for the first time, at least in real life. We’d spoken beforehand for about a week or so, a lot of the move and everything happened suddenly for the both of us. Marianne spent her first week here with her boyfriend, Tom, who’d moved to Atlanta a few months prior. She suggested Waystone, we hit it off, and that’s how it all started.’

‘That’s a nice story,’ comments Drew. ‘How’d you meet her?’

‘Mutual friend. Iona. Marianne’s friend from back home, she went to Berkeley with me.’

‘Damn.’

‘Yeah’'

Drew raises eyebrows at Addie as if asking for permission, and she nods at him. He takes the album and flips through it, slowly, asking questions here and there, commenting on Addie sometimes.

There is something irrevocably intimate about sharing your life with someone like these. Addie’s always thought physical albums carry more weight than any other form of memory collection, and she’d always collected them for herself first. It’s different from social media, where everything is curated to be nothing short of perfection, for others to see.

Now, Drew is seeing into Addie’s past in a way that’s as close to partaking in it as possible. Her friends, her experiences, her dumb photos – with a glass of beer in hand, music playing on Marianne’s speaker in the corner of the room.

She tries to remember if she’s ever so openly shared her life with anyone before this, and she can't.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Drew. The corner of his mouth is curled into a permanent half-smile, moving only as he remarks a photo he’s looking at in the moment. His hair is still messy from their impromptu photoshoot, and it looks dark brown under the apartment light. Addie notices he’s got freckles, all around his nose and under his eyes.

She doesn’t know the exact moment they became friends, but they did. Now, Addie can’t picture a life where Drew isn’t a part of it.

Some time later, when they’ve gone through two albums, a dozen more stories, and two more beers, the door opens with Marianne just about screaming bloody murder. Addie answers to her name with a calm, inconspicuous voice, and motions to Drew to be quiet.

In the end, it’s a bit of a ruckus, when Marianne just about faints at the sight of Drew Starkey chilling on the floor of her living room, surrounded by cans of beer and a heap of albums. It’s over soon, with Marianne calm and managing to find out that Drew likes goulash because his old neighbour was Hungarian and would make it for the Fourth of July, and that he is a basic white bitch who loves White Claw (Marianne gives him a lecture on buying alcohol in bulk, aka the British binge-drinking practice).

In the end, Marianne doesn’t consider him a celebrity anymore, either. He gives Addie his phone number (‘It’s simpler than Instagram, I’ll see it faster.’) and promises to let her know when he’s back. It’s two promises in the form of one, both verbalised this time, and they reassure Addie that she isn’t the only one considering them friends now.

He leaves, and she cleans up after themselves, getting Marianne up to speed with their hangout.

Addie could get used to this.

◇

15: ALCOHOLISM IN HOLLYWOOD

tagging. @jjmaybanksbaby @taiter-tots @sacredto @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw @stfukie @x-lulu @drewstarkey @butgilinsky @solllaris @hyperactive2411 @chasefreakinstokes @surferkie @jroseron @k-k0129 @starlightstories

#drew starkey #outer banks #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x oc #phone swap series

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thehardy-boys · 5 years

Text

Woman? Tommy Shelby x reader

Hi everyone!!! It’s been way tooooo long! I’m really sorry, you would not believe the year I’ve had!!!! But I’m back for a bit and I’m really trying to catch up on requests. If you’ve sent one in don’t worry I haven’t forgotten about you!!!

Request: Tommy Shelby request please? The reader needs money for her younger siblings so she dresses in her father's old clothes, cuts her hair and goes to work for the Shelby's and learns how to fight and fire guns, caughting tommy's interst he takes her under his wing thinking she's a boy but when things go bad in a trade off the reader is badly hurt and while helping her tommy finds out the truth. \(> ♡ <)

The clouds were beginning to darken as you hurried home from your job at the tailor shop. You could tell that the rain would be starting soon. It had been a long day of measuring limbs and trying very hard not to poke the customers with bobby pins.

But, at last, the day was finished and you couldn't wait to get home. Most days you barely had any time at home because of the number of jobs you had. But today was Friday and Friday was a special day because you didn’t have another job for the rest of the evening.

But, unfortunately, most Friday evenings were spent worrying about your finances. You were barely scraping through with the money that you had. Both of your younger brothers were far too young to start a serious job and anyways, you wanted both of them to have an education rather then drop out and work themselves to death, like you had.

As you had matured your life had become increasingly panicked and miserable. When you weren’t working you were taking care of your brothers and when you weren’t doing that you were trying to sleep. But most times you could barely sleep a wink, to occupied with the idea of having to live on the streets and both your brothers dying of starvation. And each week the cycle would just start all over again, working, taking care of your brothers and worrying. It was endless.

Your one wish in life was to have one job that could support all three of you. You had yet to come upon one. Most jobs required some level of higher education that you didn’t have or the employers didn’t see the benefits of hiring a woman for the job. It was a dead end. You were stuck and tired.

When you entered your small apartment you carefully removed your wet shoes. You hung up your coat and started making dinner for the three of you. Both brothers, Liam and Tom, were busy with their homework.

“How was school, then?” You asked, putting on a cheery voice.

“S’okay,” Liam responded not looking up from his paper.

“Learn anything good?” Both boys shook their heads.

You nodded getting the feeling that neither one of them wanted to talk. You knew both boys were aware of how little money you all had. Liam, on multiple occasions, would propose the idea of him dropping out of school and taking up a job at the coal factory across town. But each time you vigorously shook your head. You didn’t want him condemned to the life that you have. You wanted both of them to grow up and get out of Birmingham and live a life.

It was late. Liam and Tom had had their dinner and gone to bed. You were worried, you needed money, a lot of it and quickly. Your bank statements and bills were scattered all over the dining room table. You paced for ages, you bit your lip and chewed your fingernails until finally an idea came to you.

You quietly dragged a box from underneath your bed and opened it. Inside there was an assortment of tattered men's clothes. You sorted through it and picked out the nicest looking articles of clothing. You put on a pair of trousers and a belt. You needed a couple of layers for your top half to hide your chest. So you put on a couple of undershirts, then a waistcoat, and finally a jacket which completely covered any feminine features. The only thing left was your hair. At the moment it was too beautiful and silky looking, you needed to cut it. You hacked away for a couple of minutes until you were satisfied. The end result left you quite surprised. You actually resembled a young man, a rather good-looking young man.

You cleaned up the mess you made. You filed away all of your bank statements on the table and when you had finished it was nearing six in the morning. You thought you would try your luck and see if you could find any work out on the streets. Even though it was early most factories would already have started work. Men hurried about the streets lugging big packages of either coal or metal. The market in the center of the town had vendors already setting up their stalls. You had hunted for work all morning. It was nearing lunchtime and no one seemed to want to give you the time of day. You had been to the butchers, bakers, metal factory, multiple pubs and none of them wanted you.

You didn’t have enough money to buy any lunch so you surrendered and decided to walk home. You were so deep in thought and so hungry that you ran right into a pack of men.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going mate!”

Before you could even regain your balance, one of the men pushed you over onto the ground. You didn’t dare look up and instead focused your attention on the ground. You mumbled a few apologies and just hoped the group of men would move on.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye that one of the men went in to punch you and you braced yourself for the hit but someone stopped him.

“Stop it, Arthur, look at him. He’s sick.” You didn’t think your lack of food and sleep showed so much but that was probably because you were used to looking at your gaunt features in the mirror. It took Arthur a couple of seconds but eventually he moved back and instead decided to yell at you.

“You know who you just ran into!? Eh!?” You glanced up at the group of men. And immediate dread ran through your veins. The infamous Peaky Blinders were standing over you. Only two out of the three brothers had their eyes trained on you.

The third brother didn’t seem to deem you worthy of his attention.

“I’m talking to you!” The eldest shouted when you still wouldn't look them in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled to the ground.

“Come on, Arthur, he’s not worth our time.” Thomas said, already walking forward. The rest of the brothers followed suit not even bothering to look back. You sat there for a second until you realized that you had a golden opportunity. You jumped up and ran after the Blinders.

“Scuse me!?” You shouted after the men. They turned to look at you, all looking vaguely surprised.

“Wot?” Arthur yelled back.

It took you a few seconds to gather your wits about you, “I’m looking for work.” None of the men said anything so you continued.

“I need work, I have two brothers and I don’t have any money. I want them to stay in school but I don’t have the money to pay for it or pay for food or anything. I just need work. Any work at all.” Your desperation seemed to shine through strongly because the middle brother, Thomas Shelby seemed to finally find you interesting enough to really look at.

“What can you do?” He asked. His eyes were piercing, as strong as his voice.

“Anything. Absolutely anything.” You looked at him and there seemed to be a shift in his dolphin blue eyes.

“Okay,” He said throwing out his cigarette and stepping towards you, “Okay, come with us.”

He seemed to almost be challenging you, trying to see if he would scare you off. But, you needed this job badly. You stood your ground.

“Where are we going?”

His mouth quirked up and he granted you a nod of approval.

They brought you to The Garrison. The pub was full, now with it being near lunchtime. It was also thick with smoke from the rowdy pub goers. They led you through to the back room. You trailed behind, feeling only mildly out of place. You watched as all three brothers and a few other men set up a table and a few chairs. Tommy walked over to you while lighting a cigarette.

“Here's your first job. We’re having a business meeting, right? You need to stand guard by the door. Look tough. Don’t say anything. Just stand, alright?” His deep accented voice flooded your ears and you found yourself nodding right back. You walked over and stood.

It continued on like this. You worked all day six days a week doing small jobs. Standing guard, being a bodyguard, trailing someone, or occasionally helping with the accounting. They were easy, insignificant jobs. You could tell you had yet to earn their trust but you weren’t complaining, it paid good money. You could tell that the brothers didn’t trust you enough yet to do the important work, work that involved the family business but you weren’t surprised, you were a stranger after all.

But soon a couple weeks became a month, and then the month became a year and you maintained your loyalty and perseverance. And you were rewarded with a few quick smiles from the Shelby family. You and Finn become quick friends you helped teach him how to do his math better and since then Finn had always put in a good word for you with the family. And his words seemed to pay off because soon you found the sister, Ada, becoming more friendly.

“No, no, no, not like that, like this.” You laughed as you tried to show Ada how to fold the paper into a swan.

“I was doing that! I was!” She yelled indignantly but with a smile, of course.

“Having fun Ada?” The voice was unmistakable, cold but if you really listened there was a hint of warmth in between his words.

“(y/n) was just showing me how to fold a swan, look!” She proudly brandished her rather crooked piece of paper. Thomas chuckled.

“Very nice, Ada. (y/n) I got a job for you.” You immediately stood from your seat and listened to his instructions.

Since Ada had become a friend of yours the rest of the family seemed to relax more around you. It was only when Polly Shelby walked up to you in the crowded betting shop and handed you a pastry from the local bakery that you finally gained the approval of every Shelby, along with their trust. You had been leaning over Michael and helping him with the betting money when Polly had walked up to you. You turned around expecting her to give you some sort of order but instead she held out a pastry.

“For me?”

Polly rolled her eyes, “Who else?”

You took it from her, “Thanks, Mrs.Shelby. I really appreciate it.”

You glanced around the room and found all three sets of Shelby brother eyes on you.

“Back to work now.” Polly stated and walked off leaving an atmosphere of authority in her wake.

And since Polly’s acceptance of you all the Shelby’s have accepted you. You had been given more meaningful work. You had been Polly’s bodyguard, dealt with illegal gun shipments, and occasionally kept tabs on Ada in secret (much to your discomfort, you didn’t like lying to her). Both John and Arthur have welcomed you with open arms and on multiple occasions made you drink more alcohol then you would like to admit.

It was Tommy, however, who although deemed you trustworthy still hadn’t warmed up to you. You, of course, weren’t that surprised you had heard from Ada that Tommy was disconnected and cold from most. And he was, of course, undeniably handsome. But you didn’t voice those opinions allowed to Ada. But all in all you were happier, you had more money, and both of your brothers were well fed and finally enjoying their childhoods instead of worrying about your finances.

It was a cold morning and as you walked down the mostly empty Birmingham streets you could barely see anything because of the cold mist. You wrapped your jacket closer around you as you hurried to the betting shop. You were just rounding the corner of the street on which the shop was located when a hand grabbed your upper arm and twirled you around.

You gasped and tensed yourself for a fight but you found yourself looking into those ocean eyes that, as far as you knew, meant no harm to you.

“(y/n), what are you doing up so early?” You didn’t fail to notice that his hand was still wrapped securely around your arm.

“Michael called me in, needed help with the stocks.” You replied.

“Never mind Michael, I need your help, come with me.”

You opened your mouth to respond but Tommy turned and walked in the opposite direction. You quickly scurried after him.

“Where are we going?” You asked him and then immediately became anxious when he stopped walking and looked over at you.

“We’re going to the stables. My horses, they need grooming and you seem to be the best person for the job. I get the sort of feeling you’d be good with them.” He started walking again.

“I really love horses, when I was a little gi-boy, when I was a little boy I loved running into the fields to try and spot a few. The family next door owned a herd of them. We never had enough money to buy a horse but I always loved the idea of owning my own horse. Must be lovely for you, having so many.” You replied with a smile, still hurrying to keep up with his long legs.

He stopped abruptly, again and turned to look at you. You also halted in your steps and looked up at him.

“You’re a bit odd, you know that?” He stated, looking over your face, no real heat behind his words. He said it more as just an observation.

You chuckled, “I've been told that before.”

“You look- you’re,” Tommy for once struggled to find the right words to say. “ Softer than most gangsters I've seen, you’ve got a softer, kinder face than most. It’s just different.”

“Good different?” You asked.

Tommy made a non committal sound and was once again walking off towards the stable.

Since then, tending for Tommy’s horses has been part of your job description. You enjoyed every moment in those stables, you much preferred it to holding guns and playing bodyguard. It even brought you a bit closer to Tommy, he began to warm up to you a bit.

Somedays you would be grooming the horses and Tommy would come in, not saying anything, and just sit down on one of the many barrels of hay and smoke and think. Never staying for very long, but staying long enough for you to grow quite fond of him and long enough for you to realize how attractive those cheekbones really were, how emerald blue his eyes really were, and how sad he looked, how tired.

Somedays you both would chat, usually briefly and softly.

“How are you then?” He would always ask.

You’d answer and he would always listen.

Sometimes you’d talk about the weather, occasionally the horses, sometimes about the business but usually it was just comfortable silences.

“You’ve got a girl, then?” He asked on a particularly cold Tuesday afternoon.

The question took you by surprise and you had to remind yourself that you were a man.

“Um, I don’t really have the time, you know? Between this job and looking after my brothers I don’t really have, you know, time.” You finished lamely.

You glanced over at Tommy and he was staring back at you, he nodded.

“How about you then, Mr.Shelby?” You asked.

“Suppose same as you, don’t have the time, I mean a quick fuck here and there but nothing substnatial.”

“You want something...substantial?” You carefully asked, feeling that you may be crossing a line.

Tommy sighed and thought for a few minutes.

“I mean, yeah, I do. I just, I can’t...find anyone.” He sounded so much younger, hints of vulnerability shining through.

You enjoyed these times with Tommy, you felt even a little privileged being able to see him when he’s quiet, vulnerable, unguarded.

It was late or really early in the morning and you were stationed at the Shelby’s house with Polly, Ada, and a few other young Blinders. All of you waiting to here how the deal had gone down. Tommy had expressed concerns about the deal, feeling that the client might try and stab the Blinders in the back.

The kitchen, where you all were sitting was charged with anxiety and worry.

“Should be back by now.” Polly mumbled, shakily lighting a cigarette.

You glanced over and gave her a compassionate look and before you could say anything you all heard the front door bang open.

“Help, we need help over here!” You heard Arthur’s voice yell. You immediately jumped up and headed over to the front hall and saw blood. Tommy’s shoulder was gushing rich red blood.

“His shoulder, grab him! Come on!” John yelled at you. You immediately jumped into action, you held Tommy by the waist and dragged him into the front room and laid him out on the coach.

“Oh god, god! What are we going to do?” Polly started to panic and Michael had to pull her back and out of the room.

“I know first aid. I’ll deal with it.” You stated calmly as you carefully took off Tommy’s jacket and shirt to see how bad the wound was.

“Gunshot, went straight through.” Tommy mumbled.

“I know, don’t worry, I got you.” You comforted. The Shelby family was buzzing around you. You went about cleaning the wound, sewing it up, then bandaging the thing up. Tommy didn’t make much noise, except for a few grunts when the needle went through or when the alcohol stung the wound. Throughout the process you would occasionally glance up at Tommy’s face and find him already watching you.

With a look on his face you just couldn't place.

You volunteered to stay up with him and watch over his wound. Tommy was lying on the couch and you were sitting on the floor, your back leaning against the front of the couch.

“Thank you.” His voice startled you and you shot up on your knees to look over at him.

“How do you feel? Your shoulder?” Your were worried.

Tommy smiled and slowly pushed himself up so he was in more of a sitting position.

“Fine.” He replied with a grimace.

“What went wrong?” You asked. “If you don’t mind me asking” You stated as an afterthought.

Tommy chuckled but it turned into a pained wince.

“The bastards turned on us, the moment we handed over the goods, they pulled out their fuckin’ guns and started shooting.” He winced again.

“Sorry.” You said, and then realized how lame it sounded.

Tommy smiled only slightly, “Not your fault.”

Soon his eyes began to droop. “You better rest, Mr.Shelby.” You stood up and started to help him lie back down.

“Tommy, call me Tommy.”

“Okay, Tommy.”

Just before he fully slipped under he mumbled something, “You’ve got...really pretty eyes.” And he reached up and brushed your cheek gently and then he was gone. Fully asleep.

And you stood there, shocked. He couldin’t have known you were a girl, was he gay? No, maybe, no, could be. Your brain was going a mile a minute, you didn’t sleep all night.

When morning came you left the house early and did your rounds at the stable and then did a few errands for Polly and all day you didn’t run into Tommy. All week actually, you didn’t see him. It wasn’t like you were actively avoiding him you just made sure you kept really busy so you kept away from the Shelby house, the betting shop and by luck whenever you were in the stables he was never there. You just didn’t want to have an awkward conversation with Thomas Shelby, you didn’t want to lose your job, you didn’t want anything, you just wanted to live your life and make money.

You found that you really missed seeing Tommy. You missed just seeing him in the betting shop and exchanging a small smile. You missed your small talks in the stables, you missed him. He had become a rather strange comfort in your life. It was Sunday, which meant it was usually a quiet day, not a lot of work. You were sitting in the betting shop with Ada and Michael. Just talking. The door burst open and all three Shelby boys barreled in.

“(y/n), we need you, get your gun, get your things, we need backup.” Tommy said as he ran into the back room. You quickly gathered your things and followed the boys out to the car.

You learnt to ask no question when you were on a serious mission and instead wait to be told instructions.

“We have a transaction with a client we know is going to try and kill us, we need you there, as soon as you see one of us take our guns out so do you, and shoot, shoot to bloody murder. Understand?” Tommy said all this without looking back at you and never taking his eyes off of the road.

You nod.

You pull up to an old crumbled bridge. You all step out. Tommy leads all three of you, you bring up the rear. You slip both hands into your pocket, casually, just so you can reach the gun easier.

You carefully watch the business and the moment you see Tommy reach in and pull his gun so do you. And then it’s just full out war. You hit two of the men, one in the shoulder, the other in the abdomen. The brothers take care of the rest.

And just as soon as it had started it stopped. And all that was left was the slight ringing in your ears from the gunshots.

“Good work (y/n).” Tommy said pocketing his gun.

You give him a curt nod and as you all begin to turn and head back towards the car one last gunshot rings through the air.

You were confused, none of the brothers had their guns out. Then it was just pain, surges of pain and you looked down and it looked like a rose had blossomed over your shirt. But it wasn’t a rose it was blood, your blood. Tommy glanced back at you and you saw just a glimpse of his face, his beautiful face. And then you staggered and fell all the way down.

And then it was just pain and lights and blurred faces. Tommy yelling at his brothers to help you. Tommy picking you up and dragging you over to the car. Then it was Polly holding your face looking at you with worry. Then it was Tommy’s voice yelling. And then, then someone tried to remove your jacket and you were ripped from your pain induced dream.

“No!” You yelled and ripped away from the hands, “no, I can’t, I’ll do it.” You stood up and braced yourself with one of the chairs scattered throughout the room.

(y/n), you can’t do it, please, you can’t.” It was Tommy, it was Tommy and you were so glad, so grateful. You looked at him and you looked at his eyes and you begged him with your eyes to understand.

“I’ll do it, alright, I’ll help you, just me, alright? No one else.” He said this with his arms open, palms up, inviting.

You swallow, swallow the pain and nod.

And then you were alone. Tommy stepped closer and gently helped you into the seat you were leaning on. You allowed him to remove your jacket.

He looked up at you before he moved to unbutton your shirt.

And you looked at him and gave a slight nod.

And you watched as he unbuttoned the piece of cloth. He helped take it off of you. Then you were left in a simple white t-shirt.

And you realized this was it, this piece of cloth held the power over your job, the power over your life. And you gentle took it off and let it slip between your fingers onto the floor.

That was it. You were left with nothing on your torso except the binding around your breasts.

You sat there with your head hung and then you let your head fall onto your hands. You didn’t want to look at him, you didn’t want to look at anything so you closed your eyes.

You could feel the wound seeping slowly. You could feel the pain become part of your soul and you felt the sadness and despair peek in and make a home in your mind.

“You’re a woman.” Such a simple statement, but the words that had dictated your life for years.

“Yeah.” You whispered hoarsely. You raised your head and glanced at Tommy.

“You can fire me, you can.” You said. “I’ll understand.”

Tommy just stared at you, his arms crossed.

“Let me clean you up.” Was all he said.

And you nodded.

He cleaned your wound with alcohol, sewed the wound up, his fingers were firm but the held a soft kind of gentle. And then he wrapped it up and then there was silence. You slowly stood up and without looking once at Tommy put on your undershirt, then buttoned up your dress shirt, and then finally you pulled on your jacket.

“Thanks.” You said and walked out.

Three weeks had gone by. You were back to working at least three jobs a day and not even making enough money to buy a loaf of bread. You weren’t sad, you were angry. You were angry that you had gotten shot and you were angry that you had let Tommy know, you shouldn't have let him see, you should have gone home and dealt with it yourself.

You didn’t know if Tommy was angry, you didn’t know what he felt, maybe betrayed? Who knows, you hadn’t seen a Blinder in three weeks. Your hair was still short, a constant reminder of your life before, a reminder of everything you had lost. You had gone back to wearing your normal clothes, gone back to your normal life.

And it was a Friday when you saw his eyes. Those sea glass eyes. And you almost stopped walking but you forced yourself forward, he wouldn't recognize you, he wouldn't, you repeat that in your head like a mantra as you slowly walked towards him through a sea of people.

And you were almost passed him when his hand gripped your wrist and you stopped breathing.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked. He looked at you, and the way he looked at you, you felt he just knew. Knew everything, everything about anything. And you felt this kind of tug, a tug on your heart strings. Cause you really fucking wanted him. You wanted him and nothing else. Because he was a good man.

And you say, “yes.”

He pulls you away from the current of people and leads you next to a bakery stall.

You look at each other, his hand it still on your wrist. He doesn't seem to want to move it.

“I’m really sorry.” You say, “sorry that I lied to you, I just-I needed a job, my brothers were starving I need-” Tommy cut you off with a shake of his head.

“No, no, love, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry, because I should have said something that night, I should have stopped you, because I don��t care, I don’t care that your a woman, you did some of the best work I had ever seen, better than most men. Alright? I don’t care. And I’m sorry, I want you back. I want you to take the job back.” he looked at you. And then you saw it, you saw that emotion you had seen in the stables, vulnerability.

“I can have the job back?”

“Yes, and more, I can give you a better job. Even better.” He grabbed both your hands in his and stared at you. Those eyes, god, those eyes.

“Thanks, Tommy, I really appreciate it.” You replied softly.

And you looked at each other and you just felt your entire chest open up to him, and you wanted to be his and you really wanted him to be yours.

He leaned in, leaned in so close, his lips were so close. It was perfect for once, the scent of freshly baked bread, the scent of the flower stall across the street, and the overwhelming scent of Tommy.

And then his lips were so soft, the way they molded against yours was heaven.

When you separated there was this glow around your eyesight. And the glow you realized, was happiness.

“You’ll be mine, won’t you?” Tommy asked now letting go of your hands and instead slipping his gentle hands around your waist and pulling you closer. You nod.

“And you’ll be mine?” You asked snaking your hands up around his neck.

“Yeah, love, all yours.” and he ducked down to steal another kiss but you decided to give it to him for free.

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mhilkshake · 5 years

Text

— hwang hyunjin x reader

— dancer! hyunjin x artist! reader

will have a part 2

with your hands, you were said to be dexterous.

and with being dexterous came money.

being someone with such capability led you to helping people with paintings or drawings, so you decided to make that little thing into something big. along the block next to the local pharmacy stood your art store.

nope, you didn't sell art materials, you drew for the customers. all they had to do was give you a picture and boom, there they have it.

you just loved the idea of helping people through your most loved hobby.

everyday you drew sketches of people you didn't know, you would see the reactions of the people when they see your studio for the first time, the small smile you sported when you see their reactions.

you loved everything so much.

and school?

that's what you were aiming for.

your parents passed away when you were quite young and they left you nothing but your angelic grandmother who ran the flower shop across yours.

one day, a guy wearing what seemed to be a uniform and probably your age entered your small studio, clutching an a4 sized paper of a girl. after examining what the guy held, you let your eyes wander up to his features.

tall nose and a cute mole under his left eye and plump and kissable lips. he was attractive, a very attractive guy with his hair parted to the side.

with those godly features, you expected a smile coming from him but instead, he was panting heavily and you noticed his red eyes, suspecting that he's been crying.

you gave a small smile at him who just remained standing, adjusting his breathing pattern in order to speak whatever he had to well.

he walked towards your table, which was situated on the center of the shop, the table being a barrier between the plain wood when you enter and the beautiful mess you call your workplace. you still sat, grinning at the boy who slammed the picture in front of you making you lose face and raise your brow at him.

"i need a painting, asap," he spoke breathily, his eyes boring into your eyes as you stare at him. he was cute and all, but he's quite rude.

paying no mind to his attitude, you look down at the picture he just slapped, finding a beautiful girl holding flowers. his girlfriend perhaps.

you stood up and took the picture, "look, kid, i'm gonna need 20 minutes, 25 max if you want a detailed version,"

he straightened his back, crossing his arms and put on an emotionless face, "and i'm gonna need you to control that attitude, you may be handsome but your persona gives that off," he scowled at your comment and rolled his eyes.

"could you please hurry that up? i don't have all-" he was cut when you walked away, your back turned to him as you looked for the right colors to pour all over the canvas.

"oh, you could sit there if you want to wait," you motioned to the chair you just sat on and he moved to sit, crossing his legs as well as his arms.

while you worked, hyunjin sat there observing you. how you only held the brush for a few minutes just to let go of it and use your hands, how your bun let your baby hair fall freely in front of your eyes, how you puckered your lips everytime you focused on mixing the colors, he could see to himself that you were more than attractive.

he had a small smile on, finding you cute when you cursed at spilling some paint on the picture. he didn't mind that you spilled some content onto the picture because he was busy examining you and finding you cute that he didn't notice you turning to his direction and asked if it was alright for the original picture to have a smudge.

you had some green paint your right eyes and your hands were all littered in tan, pink and other colors. hyunjin was in awe that you were so pretty, so mucb more pretty than his girlfr-

oh shit, he had a girlfriend.

"o-oh, yeah, that's alright." he stuttered as you raised your brow at him once again, as you tilted your head but continued on your work, "is she your girlfriend?"

"uh, yeah, she is," hyunjin looked down after answering your question, the memories of how his girlfriend treated him unfairly flooding in his mind.

he noticed that everytime he'd buy something for her, she'd pout and smile with that sweet sickly tone of hers and when he'd hold her hand on public, she'd harshly shrug his attempt and glare at him.

he was aware that he was being used, but what could he do? he was in so much pain and was still under the influence of love that he was confused.

if he had to continue on spoiling her, she'll probably get back on her senses and love hyunjin the way he does to her and at the same time, he was contemplating whether to break it off because she might continue on using him for her pleasure.

prior to his arrival on your shop, he forgot that it was their monthsary today, so he had to run from many blocks away to get here and make her a gift that aren't necklaces or dresses. on the phone, his girlfriend had told him that he was uselessly forgetful and he didn't know if she knows that he was really prone to insults that he cried after the beep came.

"i don't think she's that pretty, man." he quickly whipped his head up to your direction, "pardon?"

you sighed and faced your head to his direction, "she isn't as pretty as you are."

at that comment, he blushed. though it was silly for you to call him pretty, he's never been given such compliments from his girlfriend, "a-aren't guys supposed to say those things?"

he was cutely stuttering and you were amused. how could this boy, who straight up slammed a picture in front of you just turn into a blushing and stumble with his words just with a compliment?

there was more to this boy than his face.

"so you agree?" you pressed on, "that you're pretty?" you weren't trying to provoke him, but you just wanted to see more of his flustered side than necessary.

he stared at your smirking lips, "w-what?"

"n-no, it's just that um-"

"i was kidding, you really are one attractive being, i bet everyone at your school loves you." you smile at him and he returns one back, your stomach churning at the sight of his pearly whites and eye smile.

after a few minutes, the painting was finally done and you'd have to wait for another set of minutes for it to dry. as you hadn't alerted hyunjin about the condition of the painting, you spun on your heel to tell him only to be greeted with his chest. he looked over at your masterpiece and smiled.

it was now your turn to get flustered, at the close proximity, you swore your nose had a waft of his perfume, a whopping gucci magnolia. you noticed the necklaces adorning his neck and you were much more attracted than what you had initially planned.

a passing crush, it was supposed to be.

you didn't get why, but you liked the sight of chains. necklaces, bracelets and rings, you liked how men can even make some piece of metal look somewhat pretty.

when hyunjin noticed your flaming cheeks, he smirked and turned his head to you. you evidently gulped as his eyes bore into yours and yours into his, as if it was to help the erraric beating of your heart but to no avail.

"i-it's probably d-dry, so you can take it n-now," you cursed yourself in your head for stuttering in front of him when you were the one teasing him for stuttering earlier.

"and how much would that be?" he tilted his head as he supressed his smile, "i'd take any price,"

you were about to say his name when you remembered that you hadn't asked him for his name.

you opened your mouth and was about to ask for his name but he beat you to it, "by the way, i'm hyunjin, in case you needed to write that dowm on a receipt, hwang hyunjin."

then there he goes again with that bright smile, you swear you could melt there in a second if he continued to smile at you like that.

the both of you go silent as you stare at each other. not wanting to embarrass yourself any longer with your red cheeks you back away and move back to where he had sat and took your place.

hyunjin felt himself miss the proximity.

he didn't know why, but everytime he sees you, he feels that he's forgotten that he even has a girlfriend. it's like, you're a candle, momentarily being lit and giving the dark room light but is easily outshined when a real light bulb is in. but in your case? you were pretty hard to forget.

your mix of personalities had him, and he liked it.

he faced your back as you wrote on a receipt and ushered him to bring the painting for the payment.

with the painting in hand, hyunjin drops an amount more than what the usual people would pay, "are you expecting some change?"

you asked him incredelously as he just gave you 3 times the amount of a usual, "no, i'm not. it's a little tip for entertaining me while you did your work, but even if you hadn't talked to me at all, i'd still give you the same amount because your visuals caught my eye the most."

your mouth closes and opens as his words, "you're like your paintings, miss artistic," he grins at you, "as your paintings are beautiful, so are you but you lean more on the 'beauty that makes you stop and stare' side." he winked at you and your cheeks go red again.

"until we meet again, miss artistic." he gives a little bow and walks out the door, his eyes scanning you one last time through the glass panes.

#stray kids imagines #kpop #kpop imagines #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin fluff #stray kids hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin fluff

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koiyyo · 5 years

Text

DR1 “modern” au HCS!

-modern au where students of hopes peak academy don’t have ultimates and don’t take part of the killing games, but their daily lives reflect their ultimates n’ stuff! -mod corn

Aoi Asahina

- a professional swimmer obviously - has gotten multiple golden medals from olympics - spends her “offtime” cooking with her brother and sakura - has a calico cat named krispy kreme, cherishes it - loves Sakura (no homo) to death Byakuya Togami

- is known as the “can i speak to your manager” guy in town - main funder of Kyoko’s detective agency, CEO of his father’s Future Foundation corporation - inherited this spot after his father retired - foundation is dedicated to making advanced technology - acts like he doesn’t wanna spend time with Makoto and Kyoko after college, actually does Celestia Ludenburg

- is known online for her classy “Celestia” persona - has an insta / snap / etc dedicated to flaunting her gambling skills - spends what she earns on vintage lolita dresses and rare tea - fan of Chiaki’s gaming channel especially when she plays gambling games - people have placed bets on if she’ll feature on the channel to play said gambling games - mainly buys from Junko because her gothic clothing slaps

Chihiro Fujisaki

- professional indie game developer - was taught by Mondo how to ride bikes, is scared of it but enjoys it? - Taka always reminds him “No lewd games”, so his games are mostly for kids - keeps his identity a secret so he has a mascot called “Alter-Ego” - lots of his game characters are based on his friends Taka and Mondo!!

Hifumi Yamada

- has this dude showered recently? the world may never know. - one of the more famous fanfic creators, has definitely made hentai - has a $100k total anime figure collection - is a religious fan of Celeste’s content, is always white knighting her - never grew out of his fanfic phase, never will

Junko Enoshima

- her personalities are more toned down, but frequent emotional mood swings - showcases this in her fashion shows by having pastel clothing then straight to 2009 emo phase - is an instagram influencer - cannot walk one foot without her face being on at least ONE advertisement outside - agencies are kinda scared to work with her cause she’s stingy and very rough - loves her sister!! mostly works to provide for her sister Kiyotaka Ishimaru

- is chief of local police force after failing to become a politician - he’s still trying, will get there someday - frequently goes to school to show the kids old 2005 videos about “don’t do drugs” - lectures Chihiro about safe riding until Mondo influenced him to ride a police bike instead of police car - has not touched alcohol one (1) time ever since he turned 21 Kyoko Kirigiri

- runs a detective agency dedicated to her father - he’s not dead but he says “they’ve grown apart” after her freshman year in highschool - hangs out with Makoto a lot at his flower shop - buys from him a lot cause she has to give flowers to families after deaths sometimes - they will probably get married in the future periadt

Leon Kuwata

- after a flamboyant start in Little League he’s gone pro! - inspiration to little kids everywhere - prob gets high with Yasuhiro after games - he is kinda dumb don’t expect him to know 2+2 - but he has everything about baseball and its famous players memorized

Makoto Naegi

- he’s baby your honor - takes care of stray animals - runs a flower shop cause he just has such amazing luck?? - shop is set next to a crosswalk so he can help old ladies - used to be a countryy boyyy, grew vegetables for the poor

Mondo Oowada

- hasn’t grown out of the “i was popular in highschool so i can do this” phase - kind of a bad influence on Taka and Chihiro, but in a good way - despite his tough appearance actually loves his friends (and pets) - has a little bird he keeps to himself named Diamond, takes it for rides with its lil helmet

Mukuro Ikusaba

- is Junko’s bodyguard, every fan and paparazzi is scared of her - was forced to become it after Junko said no to her joining the military - has been in the police force for many years but now she’s dedicated to her sis - knows all types of defense, will break ur arm mwah - Junko uses her as a model when designing clothing - has “hand me down” boots from Junko cus they’re stylish

Sakura Oogami

- runs self defense and martial arts classes - has a cooking show that features Aoi every now and then - big big softie she likes children - wanted to become an idol to children. kinda did? - when she was in college she had a sign on her saying “walk with me if you feel scared” anytime she went out. helped many college kiddies!!

Sayaka Maizono

- famous jpop idol obviously - debuted when she was like 16, became the next Justin Bieber tbh - still keeps in touch with Makoto, lost her crush a long time ago tho - despite her looks she’s very athletic and strong! - friends with Sakura after she had to walk with her frequently at her college

Toko Fukawa

- always writes letters to Hifumi to “make a fanfic about Byakuya plz” - gets turned down everytime - works at a library and is the author of 70% of the books in there - prob used to be a fanfic writer at age 12 bless - most of her murder and erotic novels come from Genocide Jill™ - doesn’t murder but does write scary letters to her idol that are like “I will love you forever want me to send you my heart xoxo”

Yasuhiro Hagakure

- was a drug dealer in highschool. still is lowkey. - people say his psychic business is a coverup - went on a TV show saying he was a great fortune teller, embarrassed himself - randomly pops up in different towns to give fortunes

phew that was long! hope you enjoy tho!! if you want more based on these ideas send a request (’: ! V2 and V3 ones will probably come soon so look forward to that!~ - mod corn

#aoi asahina #byakuya togami #celestia ludenberg #chihiro fujisaki #hifumi yamada #junko enoshima #kiyotaka ishimaru #kyoko kirigiri #leon kuwata #makoto naegi #mondo oowada #mukuro ikusaba #sakura oogami #sayaka maizono #toko fukawa #yasuhiro hagakure #danganronpa #danganronpa headcanons #mod corn

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omgjasminesimone · 5 years

Text

Domestic

Bryce x MC

Author’s Note: I realized I have yet to write any Bryce x MC smut. That seemed like a major oversight on my part. Takes place in the same universe as Tattoo, and references some things from that.

Summary: Bryce needs Casey’s help to pick out a new bed.

Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 2300

Casey relaxes against Bryce’s bare chest, listening to his strong heartbeat as its tempo decreases to his resting heart rate. He’s had some time to recover from their previous high energy activities. He lazily traces circles on her back, relishing this closeness with her as the pair relaxes in her moonlit room.

He kisses her forehead before affectionately pushing some of her dark curls out of her face. “What are you doing tomorrow Casey?”

She shrugs. “I don’t have any plans. It’s your day off too, right? Do you have something in mind?”

“I bought a house. I’ve started furnishing it. Want to help me pick out a bed tomorrow?” Bryce asks nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just revealed important information.

Casey pushes herself up onto her elbow, peering down at him in disbelief as he meets her gaze. “You bought a house? Here in Boston? On our salary?”

“The rent on my one bedroom was basically just as much as my mortgage. I’m here for at least five years, it makes more financial sense.” He defends.

Her eyebrows furrow. “But how could you possibly have the down payment? Do you not have a mountain of medical school debt?”

Bryce sits up, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I modeled through med school, that helped me avoid some of the debt.”

Casey glances at his nude physique appreciatively. “Of course you did.” She mutters distractedly. “But some side modeling doesn’t lead to house in Boston down payment money.”

Bryce sighs before responding. “My parents helped.” He admits.

Bryce rarely talks to her about his family. Or his background in general. “So, are you super rich or something?” She questions.

“I’m not. You know how much money I make as an intern at Edenbrook.” Bryce insists.

Casey rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

He shifts uncomfortably, laying back down and tugging her with him. “My parents….they’re comfortable.” He replies.

Casey can tell he clearly doesn’t want to talk about this, so she decides to let it go. “That’s nice of them to give you the down payment.”

Bryce scoffs. “My parents don’t give anyone anything. It’s a loan. Everything has a price with them.”

She sees his jaw tense, and decides to leave that alone. “You want me to come with you to pick out a bed?”

He nods. “I want to get one you like. I assume you’ll be sleeping over a lot.”

Casey turns her gaze away from him before she frowns. Picking out a bed together seems very intimate. Like something you do with someone when you’re officially together, which they aren’t. Her heart tells her that she wants to be Bryce’s girlfriend. But her mind reminds her that they’re in their intern year. That she needs to focus and work hard if she’d going to earn a permanent spot on the Edenbrook diagnostic team. That she can’t afford distractions. Maybe they should keep things casual. It’s easy, comfortable, familiar at this point. Bed shopping, that’s too domestic.

“Are you about to turn me down Valentine? What, you don’t like shopping?” Bryce questions, nudging her so she’ll look at him again.

“I just think it might be nice to have a relaxing day at home.” She finally responds.

“We can have a relaxing day at my new house after we get the bed.” He retorts. She’s silent, looking like she’s coming up with another excuse. “Hey, Casey, let’s play a game. Two truths and a lie. If I win, you come with me tomorrow.”

“What do I get if I win?” Casey questions.

“What do you want?” Bryce responds.

Casey smirks. “You have to let me beat you in the Edenbrook basketball tournament next week.” He’s been practicing obsessively for the last month. He really wants to win.

Bryce pauses, thinking it over. “You drive a tough bargain Valentine. But you’re on. I’m really good at this game.”

“And I’m really good at reading people. It’s part of my job after all. Okay, I’m ready. Lay them on me.”

Bryce absentmindedly rubs her back as he thinks. “Hmm…okay. Number 1, I finished first in my class at Stanford Medical School.” Casey rolls her eyes. He brags about that all the time, so she knows that’s a truth. “Number 2, I once performed with Bruno Mars. And number 3, I’ve streaked through Fenway.”

“You have not performed with Bruno Mars.” Casey states confidently, after taking several moments to think it over.

Bryce smirks. “I have. Of course, he wasn’t famous at the time. Just a local Hawaiian artist. As a kid I was one of his back-up dancers when he did shows at the hotels for the tourists. I win Casey. Again.”

She pouts. One day, she’ll win one of these stupid bets. But in the meanwhile, it looks like she’s going mattress shopping.

…

Bryce intertwines their fingers as they walk into the large mattress warehouse. Rows and rows of mattresses line the room, several customers and salespeople milling about. Casey looks around, amazed at the sheer scale of the place.

“Do you want to talk to a salesperson?” Casey asks.

“Nah, we can figure this out ourselves.” With that said, Bryce grips her waist and tosses her onto a nearby mattress. She flushes when he crawls on top of her, kissing her neck.

“Bryce, what are you doing?”

He pulls away, peering down at her. “Isn’t it obvious? Testing it out.”

He leans down, kissing her lips this time. He tries to deepen the kiss, but she pulls away. “You’re going to get us kicked out of the store.” She warns.

“They won’t kick us out. They’re going to want to sell me a mattress. I’m thinking that I’ll pick out an expensive one.”

He goes in for another kiss, but she turns her head and pushes him off of her, scooting over to the edge of the bed and smoothing out her hair before standing. “Well, if you’re looking for the expensive stuff, we’re in the wrong section.” She points towards the back, where the salespeople are congregating. “That’s where they keep the expensive stuff.” She grips his hand and pulls him to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Casey checks the price tags as they make their way through the aisles. She pauses in front of one with a hefty price tag of $5,000. “How could a mattress possibly be worth $5,000?” She asks, scooting onto the bed. Bryce lays next to her, and they both sink into the soft mattress.

“Wow.” He comments after a moment of stunned silence.

“It’s like lying on a cloud.” Casey theorizes, her eyes starting to close since she’s so comfortable.

Bryce gently pushes her onto her side, spooning her, trying to imagine they’re at home and not in the middle of a store with many people milling about. He throws an arm over her. “This is nice. Nicer than your bed. If I buy this, will you sleep over more?”

She runs her thumb over his knuckles. “I’d probably move in.” She responds with a chuckle.

He kisses the back of her neck. “I’d love that. But unfortunately, this is a little bit out of my price range.”

They reluctantly get up, browsing through more mattresses. Bryce stops in front of one that’s marked $1,500. He falls back onto the bed, making himself comfortable. Casey joins him, burrowing into his side. “This one is nice too. I actually like that it’s a little firmer. Better for your back.” Casey comments.

“Hmm..” Bryce hums contently. “I think this is the one babe.”

Bryce waves a saleswoman over, negotiating the mattress price and managing to get them to throw in the frame at a discount after flashing a few charming smiles. He also gets them to throw in free same day delivery. Casey is very impressed. If she ever buys a car in Boston, she’ll definitely be taking Bryce along.

…

Bryce tips the movers after they finish assembling his new bed. He walks them out, locking the door behind them. With that taken care of, he sets off for the master bathroom, where Casey should still be enjoying her bubble bath.

He opens the door quietly and leans against the doorframe, watching her for a moment as she scrubs at her olive skin, lathers shampoo into the curls that he loves. She spots him, smiling and beckoning him towards her with one finger.

He moves automatically, almost transfixed by the bubbles on her skin obscuring his view of her breasts. He quickly discards his clothes and joins her in the large tub. He wraps her in his arms, her back to his chest. He kisses her shoulder softly, leaning back against the porcelain tub.

“This house is really nice Bryce. I love it. It’s so big though, three bedrooms, three baths. What are you going to do with all those bedrooms?”

“I’m going to get a tenant for the bigger room. I want to pay my parents back as soon as possible. I don’t like owing them anything. I’ll probably leave the other one as a guest room, maybe a home office.”

“Hmmm…” She mumbles, leaning back into his embrace. He helps her rinse the shampoo out of her hair. Then, he grabs the loofah she’s abandoned in the water, slowly scrubbing it down the front of her body. He takes his time at her breasts, before allowing the loofah to trail lower, rubbing a little roughly between her legs.

“Bryce.” She mumbles, allowing her head to fall back against his shoulder. He drops the loofah, slipping two fingers inside of her. Her hands drop down to his thighs, squeezing as he moves his fingers in and out of her. He hooks his fingers, finding the spot she likes. Once she’s writhing over him, he quickly removes his hand from her, scooping her out of the tub and into his arms.

They drip water onto the tile floor before he reaches the towel rack, placing her back on her feet and quickly drying them both off.

“Did you put sheets on the bed?” Casey questions.

“Not yet.” He confesses.

She walks to his hallway linen closet, which he showed her earlier on the house tour, stretching onto her tip toes to reach the light blue sheets on the top shelf. He admires her lithe form as she stretches, eyes following her almost involuntarily as she heads back to the bed, placing the sheets on.

“Thanks for the help.” She says sarcastically when she’s done putting on the last pillowcase, lying back on the bed.

“Sorry, I was distracted.” He mumbles, eyes continuing to scan her nude body. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but now it’s different. Here in his house, a house he hopes will be theirs one day, on the bed they picked out together. He smiles lovingly at her as he joins her, crawling on top of her.

He kisses her, deepening the kiss when she opens her mouth. Their tongues battle for dominance, and he lets her win for once. He pulls away from her tantalizing lips, trailing kisses down her neck. He nudges her legs apart with his knee, kissing down her body until he reaches her core. She grips his hair as he sucks and licks between her legs. Her grip on his hair tightens as he swirls his tongue just so, not needing to guide him, he knows exactly what he’s doing, she just needs something to hold on to.

He wiggles his tongue the way he knows drives her crazy, and she lets out a load moan as she orgasms. He smirks, kissing her wet folds once more before getting onto his knees, throwing her knees over his shoulders.

They’ve stopped using condoms, since she’s on birth control and they’ve both been tested for STIs, so he pushes right in. “Uhh…Bryce” she breathes as he slides all the way in, gripping her hips hard. Her fists clench in his sheets, twisting them as he pulls out slightly and then pushes back in.

“You feel so good Casey.” Bryce mumbles, thrusting faster, harder.

“Come here.” Casey demands.

Casey’s legs fall from his shoulders as he leans down to her, capturing her lips. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, moving her hips in time with his thrusts. He encourages her to wrap her legs around his waist, groaning as he feels her walls tightening around him.

He pushes her into his new, delightfully soft mattress, thrusting erratically as he feels his orgasm coming. But he refuses to come first. He grips her ass, squeezing and angling her so he can hit the right spot.

“Aahh Bryce!” She cries out.

He smiles against her lips, found it. She scratches down his back as she orgasms again, legs falling from his waist. He lets go as soon as she does, collapsing on top of her.

He kisses her one more time before rolling off of her.

“I should head home.” She mumbles, but doesn’t move from her comfortable position in Bryce’s bed.

He wraps his arms around her. “Stay Casey. It’s late. You’re comfortable. My new place is closer to the hospital than your apartment.”

“I don’t have clothes here.” She argues.

“Yeah, you do. I brought your clothes that accumulated at my old apartment. Washed them too. Any more excuses babe?”

Casey laughs. “No. I’m good.”

He kisses the top of her head, starting to drift off to sleep. “Good.”

…

Taglist: @octobereighth @sibella-plays-choices @hazah @akrenich @lovehugsandcandy @professorortegasstudent @regina-and-happiness

#open heart #bryce lahela x mc #choices fanfiction #playchoices #choices #bryce lahela #bryce x mc

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darkling-er · 5 years

Text

Piety Knob || Chapter 2

Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 coming soon

Even though I fell asleep rather quickly thanks to being awfully tired after the car ride, I wake up and the odd feeling of a new place hits me in the head.

No traffic sounds, no loud neighbours from upstairs or the sound of a construction site. Just plain silence, the brief sound of wind between the leaves and birds chirping around.

"God damn it!" I hear Perry shout from downstairs and I smile to myself, not everything changed at least.

I get up and ready for the day, not making much effort on the clothing part and I go downstairs to check up on my aunt.

"Everything good?" I ask with a teasing smile and Perry turns around.

I should ask what happened, but the look on Perry's face, the cat food all over the floor and Church eating up the mess peacefully makes everything clear.

"Yeah, yeah... Just Church acting like an asshole, as usual."

I chuckle then I open up the cereal and pour it in a bowl. Before I can even get to the fridge Perry says.

"There's no milk, I slept in, thanks to the jet leg so I didn't have time to buy anything yet."

I make a pout, but sit down to eat.

"Shame..."

Perry rolls her eyes at me.

"Don't start! I'm stressed as it is already. We have to go to the store, then go to the animal hospital, then we have to visit your school..."

She starts to list everything and I say with a full mouth of cereal.

"We have a whole month before school! And we just arrived!"

She waves me off.

"Yeah, but I have to make a good impression, June." she sighs and only now I notice how tired she is, she looks a lot more than her real age.

"It's a new town, we have to try and make the best out of it. If we make the wrong impression, it can mark our life here..."

"You're being dramatic." I try to tease, and she cracks a smile after another sigh.

"You're one to talk, Miss Drama Queen."

I grin and shrug.

"I don't know what you mean..."

Now she puts her hands on her waist, readying the "mama pose".

"Oh reaaally?"

I nod and try not to laugh.

"Yeah, really."

She acts like she is thinking very hard.

"Then who might have been that made an hour rant about her favourite pirate dying and how it was not supposed to happen."

"Hey, he was a real gem and it was horrible to watch!"

She lets out a long laugh and honestly I'm glad to not see her too worried about things.

"Honey it was a tv show."

"Blackbeard deserved better." I add grumpily, then look towards Church, who is cleaning himself after his breakfast.

"Defend me, Church!" I say dramatically, and I see Perry's point now.

The tabby just stops his cleaning process, with wide eyes and tongue out he leaves the scene.

"You coward!!!" I shout after him and me and Perry burst out in a laugh.

In the morning the city looks a lot different, but not much more lively. It's weird to see so few people on the streets. I guess for them it's normal or even a crowd, but compared to Chicago for me it's a lot different.

One thing I can see clearly though. Higher in the city, near the forest are the more expensive looking houses, I can even see some backyards with pools. But further down towards the lake it's reminds me more of the hoods back in Chicago. It has a certain charm to it, and I can clearly see the two sides of the tracks in town. Most of the people that I see outside can be chategorized as well.

The north siders are more suburbian looking, everyone smiling and greeting each other. It feels like an episode from black mirror. Perry doesn't seem to mind them, she even stops a lot to introduce us to the random families. Housewives with 60s dresses, limonade in hand, meanwhile husband and son mowing the grass. As I said, creepy.

Down in the 'hood' feels more like my world. No one's smiling randomly at each other, just people minding their own business.

We get to the part of town where most of the stores and small family businesses are. It doesn't take that long to get their, it is a small town after all.

As Perry leads the way I stay behind a bit looking at the store signs. No world-wide known franchise names, like Subway or McDonalds, more like Brenda's Flower shop or Granny's diner. Even the only cinema in town promotes a movie that came out about 20 years ago.

I almost bump into Perry as I'm lost in my thoughts when she suddenly stops.

"We're here, I'm already late, shit." She says looking at her clock.

She turns to me, then points to across the street to a 24/7 store, as she gives me a piece of paper and her credit card.

"Would you please buy these while I make arrangements at work?"

I see no point in arguing, I didn't really want to join her to the animal hospital anyway.

"Sure."

She goes in the door and I look at the small store and head there. I cross the street without looking around, there are almost no cars anyway.

The door rings as I set foot into the local store and the cashier, who is around the same age as I am looks at me up and down and continues until I disappear in the isles.

I pick up the stuff that Perry wrote down, not making a rush of it, because I know she will take forever with small talk with her new boss anyway.

After I look at every shelf and almost every product I get bored so I stand in front of the cashier. She slowly checks in every item, meanwhile looking at me.

"You're new here?" she asks and I nod.

"Yupp."

I don't really like small talk so I don't try to encourage him into a conversation, he does it anyway.

"Cool... I'm Polly! Polly Ambers, I live down at the docks. You're one of the Blackwoods right?"

Okay how does everyone know that, did auntie Primprose put out a sing or what?

"Yeah, how did you-?"

She cuts me off with a smirk.

"This is Detroit, babe, everyone knows everything here. The only action that ever happens in this town is when someone leaves or someone new comes here. People talk a lot."

"Great." I huff, and she laughs.

"Yeah, so pretty much brace yourself for being stared at for at least a month."

She finishes with the products:

"That will be 34.29!"

I reach out with the credit card and she shakes her head pointing at the sign behind the counter.

"Cash only? Seriously?"

I ask dumbstruck and she nods.

"I know. This town is lame."

"Tell me about it..." I say then search in my pockets for any cash.

"Where are you from?" Polly asks as I lay down the money I scraped from my pockets along with some pocket dirt.

"Here, actually. We moved to Chicago when I was 4."

"Chicago." Polly says as she looks into the distance. "I bet it's a big city."

"I mean yeah, but if you've seen one before you've seen all already."

Polly shakes her head.

"Not me, I was born here and I never went anywhere before. I want to, once I get my degree, I will go and travel the world."

She gives me my bag full of food with a smile.

"I can show you around after work if you'd like." she offers.

"Really?" I ask, again dumbstruck.

"Don't act all surprised." She chuckles, her dark hair falling into her face. "Everyone's so fuckin' boring in this town, except for me, obviously. You won't get a better offer and anyway. Aaaand I can show you all the cool places. There aren't a lot, but still."

My smile is genuine as I nod.

"Alright, when do you finish?"

She steps out from behind the counter and rushes me towards the door.

"Now, let's get out of here."

"Wait, what? You're not gonna get in trouble?" I ask as she hurries me out.

"I don't work here." she answers and I laugh as I think it's a joke but we hear a toilet flush from behind a door and then the actual cashier, wearing a name tag of 'Rick'. As he sees Polly he points an accusing finger.

"AMBERS I SWEAR TO FUCK, IF YOU COME HERE AGAIN I'LL CALL THE COPS, I'M SERIOUS. YOU ARE BANNED!"

Polly takes my arm and pushes me out the door as she shouts.

"Whatever, Dick!"

We laugh as we run out the store and take a few blocks. As no danger comes our way we stop to catch our breath.

"Do you usually pretend to work at places?" I ask with a chuckle and she shrugs.

"I mean, yes, don't you?" She asks teasingly then turns to walk towards the docks. "Come on, I'm gonna introduce to some of my gang."

"Gang? Like a street gang?" I ask with doubt and she rolls her eyes.

"No, big city, not like a street gang. It's just a phrase."

"Okay, small town!" I tease back and she smiles at me.

"I think you're gonna like the docks. It's the least suburbian looking place in town. Have you seen some of the northside? They are aliens, I'm telling you. Or a cult. Definitely a sex cult."

I chuckle nervously.

"We moved there actually."

She stops in her tracks and turns to look at me.

"Why must you fail me so often?" she asks in the most serious voice. "But really, until you go and dress like people in Mad Men and talk like a woman from the victorian ages, you're fine."

She leads me to the lake and I have to admit it's a pretty sight. Polly asks me about Chicago and about the places I've been before until we reach a boat called 'Harker'. She climbs aboard and looks at me.

"You coming?"

I look at her suspiciously.

"Is a guy going to come out of the bathroom asking why you're on his boat?"

She folds her hands.

"Do you not trust me?"

I laugh and I shake my head.

"Nope, we just met."

"Wise choice, but no, I own this boat. Well, actually my dads are, but still."

I look surprised for a second then join her aboard.

"Yeah, I am adopted with two gay dads before you ask."

"I wasn't going to. I kind of figured after you said 'dads'." I smile at her, then I put down my bag on the boardfloor.

I pull out my phone and text Perry a short message. 'Met a girl in town, she's showing me around. Bought everything, I'll go home later.'

"Are you texting your boyfriend?" Polly asks as she picks up a jacket and puts it on.

"My aunt, so she doesn't freak out where I am."

"Cute, let's go." she says and turns back to walk to town.

"Did we seriously get here just to pick up your jacket?" I ask with a laugh, but still follow her.

"Yeah, I was cold, now come on."

We walk about ten minutes when we reach a gas station/mechanic shop.

"Why are we here?" I ask and tease Polly. "I'm starting to doubt you, oh knower of cool places."

"Have faith, my young apprentice."

She walks toward the garage part of the shop and she greets the people in there. There's a guy about our age, lot taller with brown hair, who meets Polly with a fist bump.

"Whattup Toby?" Polly greets him and nods towards me. "This is the new girl everyone talked about."

"Hey, I'm Juniper" I say awkwardly, I really am socially awkward, huh?

"Hi, Toby Jameson." He says and holds out his hand so I shake it.

"Toby is gay." Polly says and we both look at her suprised. "What?"

"Nice icebreaker, Polls." Toby says with a laugh. "But yeah, it's true."

"Look I was only saying that because Juniper doesn't have a boyfriend and it's better before she falls in love with you, after you act like a straight dude then have her heart broken."

"This isn't a romcom Polly." Toby says then looks at me apologetically.

"Who says I don't have a boyfriend anyway? " I ask with a nervous laugh.

"I asked you and you said you were texting your aunt."

I would start to argue with her logic, but a voice interrupts.

"That doesn't count out anything."

I didn't notice the guy working under the car right until now as he rolls out from under there, all oily and sweaty. He tries to clean his hands as much with a rag, but it's already dirty as it is. He doesn't seem to mind, as he gets up from the floor.

"Well she didn't say anything about having one either." Polly answers to the mechanic.

He looks at me and I try hard to act normal and not stare at his sweaty once white tank top. Cause damn he is hot. Not like yesterday night. He seems to recognise me as well as he says.

"Nice to see you in pants for a change. For a second there I thought you didn't own any."

Polly and Toby looks between the two of us confused and then the girl looks at Mr. Asshole.

"Marcus tell me you didn't fuck the new girl."

"What?!" I look at her offended, and Marcus waves Polly off.

"No, and I wasn't planning to don't worry."

"Well good." Polly says and then looks at me. "Why did he saw you without your pants then?"

I roll my eyes very annoyed by the subject.

"I answered the door in my pajamas, it was after 10. And he was there with nutjob mayor, I can't remember his name."

Polly and Toby looks at Marcus accusingly.

"Why the fuck were you with Forrester?"

Marcus sighs as he gets some tools to continue his work.

"I fixed up his car and he told me he would pay me if I drove him there."

"Why?" Polly asks and Marcus sighs again.

"I don't know Polly! I don't care now can you leave me to work, I'm not gonna babysit you all, and if you're not working you are wasting my time."

Polly shrugs and takes my arm to go back to town.

"You are being rude, Marcus."

"And you are annoying, bye now!"

When I get home it' already after dark. I hanged out with Polly and Toby for the rest of the day. Turns out they are really fun to talk to and as I return home I feel a lot better about living in Oregon. Polly promised me to take out on the lake before summer is over and Toby said he would drive us to Salem to go and watch a movie.

But my mood is killed as I step into the house and I hear Perry slamming the fridge door.

"Juniper Billie Blackwood!" she says angrily as she comes out, her hands on her hips and her face all angry.

Oh oh. I think as I smile at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

She disregards my apology.

"You skipped the meeting with the principal, you are lucky that I talked your way out and that Eli was nice enough to understand your behaviour."

Eli? I think. Since when is she on first name terms with my principal.

"Shit. I forgot."

"You for..." She breaths heavily. "You forgot? After I told you a million times over an over again how important it was?" She raises her voice and I look at my shoes nervously.

"I'm sorry we lost track of time and..."

She doesn't let me finish as she continues.

"Are you trying to sabotage us?" I look up at her at that.

"No!" I say offended at her accusation.

"Don't lie to me! You were not happy to come here in the first place, you were not happy with the house and my job. And that you have to attend school. You didn't even tell the mayor came to visit yesterday night. Juniper you were so rude you have no excuse for your behaviour other than sabotaging our stay here on purpose!"

"Well excuse me I don't like being dragged away from my home and friends to a place in nowhere. And I was having fun with two possible new friends and yeah, I forgot about the stupid mayor but that doesn't mean I am doing this because I wanted to sabotage you! "

Perry shakes her head and looks at my hand.

"Where are the grocieres?"

Shit. I facepalm, already exhausted from this fight.

"I left it on the boat I think. I'm sorry."

"Well go down and bring them here."

I look at her serious face and roll my eyes.

"Whatever."

I leave the house and slam the door behind me. I can still hear her arguing but I'm already on my way to the docks. I'm grumpy to walk in the cold breeze, I should have at least put on a jacket, but I still don't plan on hurrying until Perry calms down a bit.

I admit I should have been a bit more catious with the time and joined her at the school but I honestly forgot about that when Polly and Toby was making me feel somewhat at home.

I look for the boat on the docks, but in the dim light I can barely make out the names. As I search between the boats I don't really notice the footsteps behind me. In Chicago I was used to walking in a crowd so I don't think much of it now as well. That's why I don't notice in time the stranger in the hood, until I get hit in the head.

I don't lose concious at first I just kind of stumble down on the ground with the sudden pain in my head. I look up but my view is blurry so I can't see a clear picture of the person standing over me. I can only embrace another hit in the head as I now lose conciousness and everything turns to black.

tags: @onl-you

#piety knob chapter 2 #piety knob #im sorrx this is shitty

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sxftnxcole · 4 years

Text

My Pool day goes wrong:

Meanwhile i was at the local community pool reading harry potter.

Emmas friends( rose) rachel) & (cici) were near by sitting on lounge chairs tanning sitting with their boyfriends

Cici:i cant believe emma ditched us to go shopping again that girl is cray

Jayden (cicis boyfriend): who cares though

Cici whines: i care bae she hasn’t been spending time with us cuz of that weird boy ed

Jayden:is that really a bad thing?i mean theres less drama when shes not around just saying doe

Cici hits jayden:stop bae don’t talk about my bestie like that

Jayden:whyd you hit me? Stop tripping out like that

Cici rolls her eyes

Rachel:honestly guys i bet she will run up her daddys credit card again

Rachels boyfriend (john):Thats crazy if i did that my parents would kick me out

Jayden:me too homeboy

They laugh

Rose is sitting on her boyfriends declans lap but he was distracted being on his phone.

She plays his his brown hair feeling annoyed

Rose:babe we been here for an hour and you haven’t said one word

Jayden:yeah declan you iight?

Declan looks up:yeah I’m fine just applying to part time jobs

Cici:eww me and work don’t mix

Rachel:same i also hate sweating

Declan:well i wanna save up for a car

Jayden:dude you’re parents are flithy rich I’m sure they’ll buy you one

Declan:so? I wanna earn things myself

Jayden:felt that iight bro i see you

Cici: anyway yo I can’t believe we start high school tomorrow though ,it about to be litty

Rachel:i know we definitely got to bring our A game to cheer try outs tomorrow

Cici:boo I don’t need to bring anything i know Ima make the team

Jayden:bae you’ll be fine you got this

Jayden kisses her

Cici:i hope i do cuz y’all know cheerleading is my life

Rose:its mine too

Cici:well duh

Declan is on his phone still not paying attention

The girls laugh

John: well us guys need to bring our A game for the basketball try outs too tommorow

Jayden: word homie, I’m mad excited

John:i know but you need to work on your jump shot

Jayden:watcha mean my jump shot is fine i think thats something you and declan need to work on

John: *laughs* not even bro

Jayden:Im serious though

John:you’re a clown my jump shot is on point

Jayden:not even

Jayden:declan whos jump shot is better mine or johns

Declan looks up from his phone:neither I’m better then both of you

Jayden:yo your trippy right now

The guys laugh

The girls look at each other annoyed

Rachel: anyway guys is emma still dating that ugly guy whats his face?

Jayden:who cares what she do though?

Cici:his name is ed and yes their still dating

John:he seems weird

Rose:i talked to him at Julio’s party he seems okay i dont think he’s weird

Declan puts his phone down.

Rachel rolls her eyes: i doubt they will last long, you guys know emma gets bored easily

Jayden: *laughs* Thats basically with anybody who’s really serious at our age were only fourteen

Rose:well I’m serious with Declan

Rose smiles at Declan, he gives her a bored smile.

Cici: well did you see her story on Instagram a few weeks back he got her a promise ring i think thats pretty serious to me

Jayden:thats corny

John:for real bro

Rachel:wow I didn’t see that but I don’t think its corny i think it’s romantic

Rachel:i guess its serious

Cici:mhmm i guess

John:you need a ring to cuff someone

Rose:wow

The girls laugh

Rose looks around and spots me:oh look loser alert, i haven’t seen her around before

Everyone looks where rose is looking. Declan looks and spots me and time stood still for a minute.

Cici:oh my god I don’t know what’s more hideous her face or that bathing suit she’s wearing

Rachel:i know right its so 2015 it should be illegal to wear that in public

John:you guys are mean yo

Rachel:mhmm

Cici:we should give her a little welcome

Jayden:babe no , don’t do anything else you already made that girls live hell at camp

Cici:that bish deserved it

Cici:i mean we kinda would be rude not to say hi

Rachel:totes

Declan checks out.

Cici:come on girls

The girls get up and make their way over to me

Cici looks at me rudely:hi

I stop reading and look up:hi

Rachel thinks: eww she even sounds weird

Cici folds her arms:just wanted to say hi me and my friends haven’t see you around before, are you new here

I look at them shyly:yeah unfortunately i just moved here a few days ago

Cici winces:oh that totally sucks, i would hate to be the new girl, i would literally die

I look at her not knowing what to say

Cici:what school you going to

Me:ketcham

Cici:oh like us didn’t think you be in high school you have such a baby face kinda though you were in elementary school was going to ask where your mommy and daddy is

The girls laugh loudly

I look at them upset.

Cici:just playing boo, oh how rude of me I’m cici and thats Rachel And rose whats your name

Me:it’s nicole

Cici:cute name but it’s very basic

The girls laugh

Rose:watcha reading?

Rose snatches my harry book from me

Me:what are you doing? Can you give it back?!

The girls laugh

Rose:seriously? You’re reading harry potter?

Rachel:harry potter is for dweebs

Cici:it must really suck to be a dweeb and to be that ugly too

The girls laugh

Me:can i just have my book back?

Rachel holds it high:then come get it dork

I get up and try to reach for it and rachel quickly throws it into the pool

The girls laugh hysterically . I look at them upset

The lifegaurd blows his whistle yelling “ get that out of the water now”!

The lifegaurd walks away to take a phone call.

Rachel:oppsies did i do that

Rachel:i think i did

They laugh teasingly

Me:what’s your problem? Why would you do that

Rachel:cuz we can dweeb, we run this town

Rose:sorry about your book, but sorry about alot of things, you need a serious makeover

My eyes tear up looking at the pool it was the only thing i had left of my old life

Cici:you can still save your book be a good dog and go fetch it

Cici:ruff ruff!!

The girl laughs

I stare at the water and remember the car accident. I tense up.

Cici:she’s so pathetic

I walk to the egde of the pool to look for it.

The girls sneak up behind me and rose kicks me hard i scream upset falling into the pool.

The girls high five each other

The girls laugh.

The boys looks at the girls unimpressed.

I’m under water struggling to breathe and swim. I panic

The girls stop laughing and look at each other concerned

Rose:guys I don’t think she can swim

Cici:obviously not

Rachel:oh my god where’s the life gaurd she needs help

A random man gets up and rushes to the pool and jumps in

Rose suddenly feels anxious

The man grabs me and swims to the surface and i cough up water unaware of who resuced me

Man:you alright

Me:I’m okay..

I look around and everyone was watching me.

My eyes land on Declan, our eyes connected for a second but he looks away breaking eye contact

Declan looks at rose pissed off grabbing his things and leaves

The kind man helps me out of the water.

I look around and kids were mocking me.

The girls look at me not knowing what to say.

Rose chases after declan:babe where are you going

I hug myself shivering.

Declan looks disgusted at rose: what is wrong with you that girl could of drowned!

Rose:declan we didn’t know she couldn’t swim were sorry I didn’t mean for that to happen we were having innocent fun

Declan:thats just it you guys just don’t think and there was nothing fun about that

Declan:where you going to keep standing there or actually help her

Rose:you know i would of declan, I’m not some monster

Declan:today proved you are and thats not someone i want to date

Rose:are you kidding me you’re breaking up with me over a harmless prank

Declan:Im done with this rose

Rose:you can’t be done with me Declan I’m like the hottest girl around here , i mean look at me babe you won’t find anyone better then me

Declan walks away

Rose:declan!

Jayden and john walk over to comfort their girlfriends

I walk back to my lounge chair to collect my stuff.

The man jumps into the pool to get my book.

He swims up to the surface and walks over to me

He holds the book out to me

I look at him and grab it: thanks

The man:I’m sorry that happened to you kid, sometimes girls can be very mean

The man looks at the girls angry: you girls ought to be ashamed to treat somebody like that , thats not how you act toward anybody

Man:five year olds act more maturely than you, have some respect for others

Man:i know your parents raised you better then this, no one deserves to be bullied

The man walks away frustrated.

Cici and rachel look at me kind of feeling bad.

I grab my things and leave .

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hidding-in-shadows · 5 years

Text

weak endeavors chapter three: stay

@soulxmakaweek

Summary: For SoMa Week 2019. Soul’s an underground boxer who’s just trying to make some extra money to start his own life, it’s not his fault that his trainer’s daughter seems to catch his eye, and he can’t seem to stop her from wiggling her way into his life. Mature for adult language and situations.

FFN Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13266914/1/weak-endeavors

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549988/chapters/4396711

The punching bag seams were beginning to split.

Soul felt an ache in his knuckles as he flexed his hands again, his heartbeat in his ears and his breath echoing in the room. Spirit stood behind the punching bag, holding it steady, as Soul swung, counting how many punches he had thrown. (120 … 121 … 122 …)

"That's good for now," Spirit said, pushing the bag towards Soul who took a hop back. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, "I'll grab my gloves. The next guy you're up is big and uses a lot of offense."

"How do you even know all of these fighters," Soul stretched up, listening to the ache of his muscles, "I mean, you were out of the scene for a good five or so years."

Spirit was across the room. It was a storage garage that Spirit had, empty except for a punching bag, a few weights, a couple pieces of work-out equipment, and a crudely, painted box on the ground that represented the ring Soul would inevitably be fighting in. Soul walked to the edge of the room and leaned down towards his backpack, feeling around inside for a moment before he pulled out a water bottle. He took a few drinks before pouring a little on the back of his neck. When he turned around, Spirit had large, padded gloves on, ready for Soul.

"I'm pretty stealthy," Spirit said, "and I like to keep an eye on the crowd my Maka hangs out with."

"I don't hang out with other fighters," Soul scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he walked over to Spirit, "in fact, Maka's the one who introduced me to a few new people."

"Yeah, I've noticed you've been with her more."

"Sounds like it's struck a chord with you."

Spirit looked at Soul and then stepped forward swinging the glove. Soul ducked, and as he did so, pushed Spirit's arm away, side stepping to stand behind the man. Spirit turned back around, nodding approvingly before holding the gloves up for Soul to punch.

"I just don't like seeing my baby hanging out with … kids who are like how I was in my twenties."

"I'm not like you, old man," Soul huffed as Spirit took another swing. Soul ducked, this time grabbing Spirit's shoulder and pulling him down to Soul's knee, tapping the top of it to the man's stomach before going back into his regular stance.

"You're a fighter," Spirit held his hands up, "and we all have something in common."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"A little voice in the back of our head," Spirit made another swing and Soul dodged again, "telling us to go out and fuck something up. Or telling us that we're not good enough, or we need to prove something. It's different for each one, but it always brings us to the ring."

"I think that's called your conscious," Soul smirked.

Spirit caught Soul's fist between the two padded gloves, the older man's blue eyes hard and serious. Red strands of hair were glued to the sides of his face with sweat, and there was a sudden aging of his face, as if he was years older than he actually was.

"Don't try to deny it, don't ignore it, because otherwise you'll end up like me. You better find a way out of this, boy," Spirit's voice was low, "and don't hurt my daughter along the way."

---

The bar was crowded as expected on a Friday night.

Soul stood at the bar, more so leaned against it, sipping at a beer and people watching. Blake stood behind the bar next to Soul, grimacing as he wiped down an unknown sticky substance on the counter.

"So," Blake sighed, giving up on removing the stain, "is there a reason you suddenly stopped talking to Maka after, I don't know, a whole month of texting back and forth?"

The guilt in Soul's stomach twisted at his friends word. It was true, the two had grown closer after he spent the night at her apartment. He had woken up the next morning to the smell of coffee and toast. Him and Maka talked about work and her schooling and been very domestic. When they parted ways, Maka to the class she was a T.A. for and Soul to a training session with Spirit, she had given him a kiss on the cheek. And after that, they had texted back and forth non-stop. She would send him memes, he would snap pictures of different things that reminded him of her - book covers, posters, one time even the face of a grumpy cat he had seen in the window of a pet shop.

They had even gone out a few times, grabbed some Chinese food and relaxed at her apartment. And she had finally seen his apartment, her face flush when she walked in and Soul reminded her that she finally got a chance to come over and see his place for herself. There were met-ups at the local coffee shop down the street from the bookstore. She had even gone in a few more times, buying books to add to her never ending collection. She would sit in the windowsill with Blair in her lap, a book in hand, and a cup of tea in the other. But things had slowly begun to cross a line.

She would hold his hand when they walked down from the bookstore to the coffee shop after his shifts. There were times where he would throw an arm around the back of the couch during a game night, and she would snuggle right in, place her own hand on his thigh. And, the kisses.

They had started that day she kissed his cheek.

(Or did he start it with the whisper of a promise and a kiss on the back of her hand, like some sort of fucked up prince.)

Maka was affectionate, there was no denying that. Her and Liz and Patti always greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek. She was always holding someone's hand when she was with the group, typically Patti's or Jackie's. She would always sit close to the person she was next to as well, shoulders touching.

But, whenever she was with him, they were constant. First it had been cheek kisses, her planting them on him as she left, and the one occasion he gave her one as he left her apartment after a Chinese food night. Then, there were casual pecks against his shoulder, his back, and even on the scar on his right knuckle from an old fight. She would pass him in the bookstore and drift her fingers along his back, peck a kiss to his shoulder, and then disappear into the bookshelves. In her apartment on game nights, she would stand in the kitchen, their friends laughing in the living room, and he would stand behind her as she washed various cups and plates, rubbing her shoulders. He would lean down and plant a kiss on the nap of her neck when he was done, and each time she would sigh and relax, as if that was the only thing she needed to take the tension away.

But they had yet to actually kiss. And he knew it was only a matter of time.

He had felt Spirit's words weigh down on him after their training session earlier in the week. The fact that the man had pinpointed the exact reason Soul was fighting, the little nagging voice in the back of his head. He didn't want to admit it, and always tried to deny it, but it seemed like Soul was more like Spirit than he originally thought. So, when Spirit brought up Maka, Soul knew there was only one way to keep her safe from the epic downfall he was going to eventually go through. And that was to push her back out of the life she had so easily found her way into.

"Over her," Soul shrugged, wincing at the burn of the alcohol he had chugged after uttering those words.

"I call bullshit," Blake hissed, leaning forward, "that's the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. You two were more of a married couple than any of us."

"I'm not good for her, man," Soul turned around and leaned his arms on the bar, clenching the beer bottle between his hands, "Spirit … he was right when he said I was like him. I'm not gonna fuck up Maka's life, not when she's got a whole career ahead of her. Did you know she's working on a thesis about the impact women had in history and the removal of their names and who replaced them? Dude, I barely even knew what a thesis was, and she's putting that shit together? It could start her whole career, her professor is some big, history buff who goes around the world for conferences."

"Dude," Blake sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, "the fact that you even just told me that about her proves that you're not over her."

"Whatever," Soul turned back around and downed the rest of his drink, "I'm not good for her."

"Yeah, after you promised her you weren't a total fuck up," Soul choked on the beer that he was swallowing as he heard Blake's words, "yeah, man, I know about that. I was Maka's friend before yours, and she's not gonna let some serious shit like that slide. It's basically my purpose in life to council the two of you and make you see how stupid you guys are for not realizing your infatuation for each other."

"You're using too many words to be the real Blake," Soul put the empty bottle on the counter and glanced across the bar to where an old clock hung, "I got a fight in thirty, I'm heading down."

"Whatever," Blake gabbed the empty bottle, "but don't come bitching to me when she finds some new, hot historian boyfriend and you're missing her."

Soul flicked Blake off and pushed through the backdoor of the bar, going into the back room where they stored various bottles, glasses, and cleaning supplies. A hinged door on the bottom of the floor lead down to the basement. Soul huffed as he opened it and the sound of voices echoed up into the back room. He descended the steps, stopping part way down to close the doors back up. Once he reached the bottom, he was met by familiar faces of bystanders and betters. They smiled, raised their drinks at him, slapped him on the back, but he knew that everyone was betting against him tonight.

The guy he was going up against was named Ragnarok, which was a self-given name because the guy thought he was bad ass. He was tall, about six foot two, and weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds, all muscle. So, it was no surprise that once Soul disappeared into the locker room that everyone got a little bit louder and a little more excited about his inevitable loss.

He began his routine, changing into his shorts and stretching his muscles. He was beginning to wrap his knuckles in black when someone slammed the door to the locker room open. He looked up, startled, to see Maka standing there in all her might.

She wore a short, plaid skirt and a cropped, white shirt with combat boots. Very school-girl-ish with her braided hair, but also very Maka. And very hot. Soul internally cursed at himself for the last thought.

"What the fuck," was all she said as she moved to close the locker room door, blocking him from leaving.

"Sorry," Soul went back to wrapping, "not too sure what fuck you are referring to."

"Oh, so funny," there was ice in her voice, "maybe the fuck you gave for me about a week ago? Or for the past month? Seriously, after the whole I don't leave people who are important to me speech?"

"Maka, can we really not do this right now, I have to go up against a big mother fucker and I would rather not -,"

"Oh, yeah your fight, I totally forgot about that. You know, against a fighter. A title you claimed was not applied to you, or at least not in the sense that you would go on and walk out on people who are important to you."

"Maka -,"

"I mean, Christ," she let out a frustrated laugh, "have you seen my dad? He's a big pile of hot garbage! He doesn't know what to do with his life now that my mom's gone. And there are days where I can barely even talk to him without getting pissed. And he's helping you train? Do you really wanna go down that path? I mean, you've already run away from me, just like he did with my mom, and -,"

"We're not a couple," Soul snarled, pulling the wrap tightly around his hand, "sorry blondie, but I'm not your little boyfriend, so you have no right to compare … whatever we had with your parents."

He watched her flinch as if he slapped her. There was a change in her eyes, from anger to sadness, tears forming for a split second before they hardened again. She nodded once and then twice and took a big breath.

"Yeah," her voice was raspy, threatening to break, "whatever we had. Got it. Heard you loud and clear that time."

"Maka," Soul sighed and stood up, one hand wrapped and the other holding the loose one he had, "please just … we need to have a proper conversation about this, and it can't be done right before a big fight."

"Your fight, of course, how could I be so stupid," she spat, and then turned on her heel, "go break a leg or some shit."

Soul cursed to himself as she left, slamming the door closed behind her. He felt anger boil up inside of him and he let out a grunt of anger before slumping back onto the bench and laced his fingers into his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration.

Forget her and go fight.

"Fuck you," Soul spat at the voice in his head and sat up, gripping the wrap for his other hand.

She's done, just get out there and beat something up.

"Fuck," Soul groaned, squeezing his eyes closed, "I'm so fucked."

---

He wins the fight in a surprising landslide. Ragnarok was big but clumsy. His punches were slow and predictable, and within the first few minutes, Soul had landed a few good hits in his opponent's face before landing a hard one in the man's jaw, knocking him out.

"Have another on the house," Blake said as he slid Soul another beer. Soul passed his friend the empty bottle he had, "geez, she really dug into you, huh?"

"Less talking, more drinking," Soul groaned, taking a swig. His head was already beginning to pound, a combination of the fight and drinks. But, he had a wallet stuffed with enough money to cover rent for the next two months and some groceries, so he was happy enough.

"Don't look now," Blake said, "but here she comes."

"Fuck," Soul dropped his head as Blake wished him good luck and walked further down the bar to help other customers. Soul peeked up when he heard Maka clear her throat. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were dilated and there was a beer in her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, a slur to her words, "and yes, I know I'm … tipsy? But let me just … I'm sorry for ass-assuming there was something going on, or even implying it. You know what they say about assuming stuff."

"It's okay, blondie," Soul hummed, turning towards her and taking a sip of his drink, "I know there hasn't been a real line or definition."

"Well, I'm like that with all my friends," she sighed, suddenly plopping down on the stool next to his, "I always give them cheek kisses and hold their hands."

"And have solo Chinese nights, and cuddle on the couch, and leave lingering touches …,"

"Whooooops," Maka giggled and took another sip of her drink.

"Maka, I think you might be a little more than tipsy."

"Soul," Maka rolled her eyes, "I am a grown ass women, I know when I am drunk and when I'm -," she stopped talking as she stood up, suddenly swaying. Soul quickly reached out with his free hand, grabbing her waist and steadying her. She flushed as she looked up at him and then pushed his hand away, clearing her throat. "Okay, maybe I'm … a liiiiittle drunk."

"I'm gonna get you an Uber," Soul sighed, pulling his phone out.

"Nooooo," she leaned forward and tried to steal his phone, but instead stumbled into him, her hands falling onto the tops of his thighs and her face pressed against his chest, "whoops again."

"Okay, I'm taking this," Soul plucked her half-drunk beer from where she sat and leaned over the counter of the bar to hide it, "and I'm getting an Uber now."

"I don't wanna go home alone," she moved her hands to his chest now, green eyes wide and her lip pouty.

"Don't worry angel, I'll make sure you get home safe," Soul smirked and watched as her rosy cheeks turned read, followed by a flush on her neck. "Come on, let's wait outside. Did you come alone?"

"Yeah," she leaned into his side and Soul wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to keep her steady, "I got Black Star, I mean Blake," she giggled at the mention of his old name, "to tell me-to tell me where you were. And then I walked over. I … I didn't think I'd drink this much but …,"

"But then I was an asshole, and you were an asshole," Soul laughed as Maka slapped him on the chest.

"You were more of the asshole than me," She grumbled, "mister-mister I don't fuck over the-the people I like, bullshit."

"I was trying to protect you," they had made it outside now and Soul let her go, turning towards her, "I had a talk with your dad and … he made me realize some stuff."

"Well there's your first mistake," she poked him in the chest, glaring with a drunken gaze, "you talked to my Papa."

"My bad," Soul smiled at her, amused by her drunk-self, "look the Uber is here. Please don't throw up."

"I can hold my alc-alcohol, thank you veeeeery much."

They slid into the back of the car and Maka quickly curled up into Soul's side, her head on his chest and a hand across his stomach as she drifted off. It was a short drive, only a few minutes long, but she had somehow managed to pass out. The ride was quiet and Soul watched as the streetlights passed, feeling the warmth of her on him and trying to ignore the fact that pushing Maka Albarn out of his life wasn't going to work.

When they got to her apartment complex, he helped her up that stairs, unlocked her door, and even helped her sit on the couch. He told her to take her shoes off while he went to grab a glass of water for her. When he got back, her boots and socks were off and now her hands were gripping the hem of her shirt, starting to pull up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Soul said urgently, putting the water down quickly and placing his hands on top of hers to stop her, "I'm still here you know."

"I know," Maka pouted, "but I'm not comfy and I wanna be comfy."

"Okay, ah, let me get you something to wear then," Soul left, disappearing down the hall and into her room.

It was dark but he could make out the shape of her dresser across the room. He already knew she kept a stack of oversized shirt in the top drawer because he borrowed one once. (He had secretly hoped that day that they would trade places, that she would borrow one of his shirts.) He reached into the drawer, grabbed a random one, and went back out.

Maka was now laying on the couch, half of the water gone, and she had an arm thrown over her face. Her skirt was now flipped up and he could see the pale color of her panties. He sighed, pushed the nagging thoughts in his mind away, and kneeled next to her. He mimicked their situation from a month ago and poked at her cheek. Maka cracked a single eye open, peering from under her arm. She glanced at the shirt he had presented to her and hummed happily. Before he saw anything else, Soul turned and walked back into the kitchen.

He returned with a peanut butter sandwich and left it on the coffee table. Maka's clothes were now tossed over the couch and she had managed to pull the blanket that she kept on the top of the couch over herself. Soul kneeled down again.

"Maka," he said gently.

"Sooooul," she replied, turning to smile at him, "thanks for helping me."

"Of course blondie," he ruffled her hair a bit, "any time. Especially if I can watch you embarrass yourself."

"Are you leaving?" She pouted at him as he stood up.

"Yeah, you need sleep," Soul turned and started to walk away but felt a hand wrap around his wrist. He looked back at Maka to see her sitting up slightly, a sadness in her eyes.

"No," she whispered, "stay with me."

"Maka …,"

"Please? I promise I don't drool or snore."

"We both know that's a lie, you've fallen asleep on me before."

"I just …," she looked down at where she held his wrist, moving her hand to grip his own hand, "I'm sorry we fought and I'm sorry about … the stupid stuff I said about my parents. I just want us to go back to … whatever we had."

"Okay angel," Soul said, and she looked up at him quickly, her green eyes hopeful and happy.

(He knew he wouldn't be able to say no to her from day one.)

Soul toed his shoes off as Maka sat up some more. He sat down, and she tugged on the hem of his shirt, urging him to lay with her. After looking at her puppy dog eyes, he sighed and moved further down, pulling the blanket over himself as well. Maka purred happily and snuggled down, turning herself towards him. In an instant her leg was tossed over his hip, and her hands were pressed against his chest. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, and Soul was still trying to figure out where to put his hands when he heard her begin to gently snore.

He looked down at her, watching her eyes flicker in a dream, and wondered just what he had gotten himself into. Again.

#soma #somaweek2019 #day 3: stay #weak endeavors #soul eater #maka albarn

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koganphrancis · 6 years

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Camless Episode 4

(gif credit: winifred-burkle)

It’s a landmark episode and not a lot happens, as always. If they didn’t have the fact it was the 100th episode to talk about, they’d pretty much have nothing at all. Another episode without bringing up Terror (yay!), another episode without sex or a titty shot (shock!), another episode where we learn nothing about wtf is going on with Ian (yawn). I HAD thought the show had managed to wrap up 3 storylines, but then I saw spoilers online last night that would indicate at least 2 of them will go on :( Spoilers and not much else under the cut.

Ian got the “here’s what you missed” again this week, which I’m taking as another sign Cam is nearing the swan song ;) But, ugh,the opening wasn’t funny-or understandable-at all. Cam’s standing in front of a busload of extras they must’ve bussed in from a local Chicago school of modeling to portray Gay Jesus supporters, he’s wearing his “God Loves Fags” T shirt and says, “What the fuck were you doing last week that was more important than watching Shameless? Protesting homophobia and bigotry? Damn right you were.” WTF? If people weren’t watching Shameless last week they were exercising good taste, not “protesting” somewhere at 9 PM on a Sunday-or does he mean not watching this shit show is a protest against homophobia and bigotry? That actually does make sense. I apologize ;P

Liam Whatever the point was of aging him and doing a time jump after Monica died went out the window last night when Liam is approached by some public school teachers about his placement for the next school year. Liam is afraid he’s going to be kept back, but they assure him it’s the opposite, they want to move him up. He asks if he’ll be put in 3rd grade, but they say they want to try him in 6th. But if Liam thought skipping a grade would put him in 3rd, that means currently he’s in 1st and the oldest that would make him right now is 7. The fuck? The only reason I’m talking about any of this is because that’s how lame the show is now.

Carl Lip FINALLY says something to him about the dogs smelling up the whole house. And then shockingly Ian and Carl have a conversation about the dogs too-and West Point. But of course this is the year of the Gallagher house seeming weird and creepy, so the conversation takes place with a very catatonic-like Ian sitting on the basement steps in weird shadows whilst Carl feeds the dogs. The brotherly convo goes like this: Ian: Sure they wouldn’t have been better off if you just gassed them like you were supposed to? Carl: I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I: How are you going to order men (note to JW-women can serve in the armed forces now too, even in combat) to kill the enemy if you can’t put down a couple of old dogs? That’s what officers do-order men (!!!) to kill. What did you think they were gonna teach you at West Point? Marching cadences? C: Is that what Gay Jesus would do? I: What, kill old dogs? Hell no, Gay Jesus is all about inclusion and grace, but you’re not looking to get into heaven. You want to lead lean mean murdering machines. (DID ANYONE EVER THINK THAT WAS IAN’S GOAL IN GOING TO WEST POINT? LEADING KILLING MACHINES TO THEIR DEATHS? I HATE YOU, JOHN WELLS!) If you can’t kill a couple of old dogs might be the time to start considering teaching kindergarten? Nursing school?

On that note, he gets up and walks away. Let me interject another rant here-since WHEN is Ian this insensitive sexist jerk who would think of jobs/careers in terms of things real men do vs. traditionally (in the dark ages) “feminine” jobs? John Wells is a fucking dinosaur that needs to be educated-fucking teaching and nursing jobs are as difficult as soldiering, plus these days they’re expecting teachers to start protecting classrooms with weapons. He’s such a dumb fuck!

And also-I bet this is the only time Ian will speak to Carl about West Point and we’ll never know how he truly felt about watching Carl grasp at the dream he once had. Way to blow the opportunity.

There’s a whole stupid side story about Carl and the kid who originally was getting the West Point letter of recommendation. In another add it to the list of “read the room, school kids arranging to shoot each other isn’t funny, you fucking out of touch white males” plots, Carl needs to get his “killing mojo” back so he goes to visit a local veteran. I can’t even begin to guess if Wells was trying to make some commentary about PTSD or if he was just using the poor guy for laughs (this is Shameless, as they love to remind us, so I’m guessing Wells was just going for yuks). The show makes its at least THIRD joke using tattoos as a punchline, and-just like with Mickey and Ian-it fails to be funny. Get new material, you untalented hack! Sorry I keep yelling at John Wells-what a waste if he’s not actually reading this ;)

In Carl’s showdown with the other kid, Wells turns that kid into a poetry-spouting “pansy” at the last second. The kid can’t bring himself to shoot Carl, so he shoots himself in the thigh saying his warmonger dad can’t make him enlist in the Marines now even if he’s not going to West Point. I’m sitting at home wondering if the idiot nicked his femoral artery and is about to bleed out. Carl says the self inflicted wound is just a flesh wound and they’ll be able to tell, so the kid starts blabbering poetry and Carl shoots him in the other thigh to shut him up. The kid thanks him and Carl walks away. Now I’m convinced that second shot had to hit the femoral artery and no one’s calling 911 and I bet the kid dies and Carl’s path to West Point is now strewn with his body and Kassidi’s.

Debbie I can’t...I’ll try, I’ll try to be brief, because it’s all meaningless. After spending one night together, Alex says they should live together (because that’s what ALL wacky lesbians do, they move right in), and Debs says yes. They get to have a cute domestic breakfast scene that by rights should’ve gone to Mickey and Ian, but I digress. Debbie goes out and buys “lesbian” outfits, which to me just seemed like they were making fun of HER-of course she’s going to hit the mall, she’s just a teenager! She doesn’t have to be the spokeswomen of lesbians everywhere. This show has a knack of mocking the wrong things at the wrong times. It’s their shitty writing, not teen spending habits, that’s ridiculous here.

The next time we see them, they’re in bed again, and Alex is filling Debbie in on her past serious relationships, and then Wells gives Debbie a speech about all the dudes she slept with and it’s so much more cringe-worthy thinking about the fact he wrote it. Plus it’s another “relationship retcon” speech since Debbie doesn’t mention that every other time she’s had sex it was a form of rape. Matty (who Wells has Debbie say had a “big dick”) wasn’t conscious (and, btw, John, a 12 year old virgin-which is the oldest Debbie could’ve been at the time with all your screwing around with her still being 16 last year-wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic about “big dicks” for her very 1st time), Derrick (who she lied to about birth control-if he had slipped off a condom right before entering her that would be rape and this case is also-Wells says he had a great body and really knew what he was doing), and the guy she crossed state lines with who was obviously over 21 if he could rent a hotel room in Missouri, PLUS she was drugged and unable to give consent-that dude’s a two for! Debbie doesn’t mention him, since she can’t remember him, I guess. She brings up Neil, but says being with him was just financial (she doesn’t bother to say he just watched while she did things to herself. But hey, if they had had sex, that would’ve been another case of statutory!) Anyway, then Wells has Debbie spout off about what having sex with another “girl” is like and Alex gets more and more dejected. She’s just now seeing that Debbie’s not gay? We’re supposed to feel sorry for her? When in the previous episode which SEEMS to have taken place the day before (or a couple of weeks, tops, if you’re going by Liam’s time line) Alex said right out loud that she knew Debbie was straight? WHY IS THIS SHOW SO DUMB? We haven’t gotten to know Alex well enough to have sympathy for her regardless, but they made the point of letting us know she KNEW going in Debbie is straight. And of course in John Wells’ world, there’s no such thing as bisexuals, so...

Deb and Alex “break up” (who cares?) and I thought that would be the end of Alex and Debbie’s gay storyline, but no-sounds like they’re going to be the new Ian and Terror-next week “Debbie tries to repair things with Alex” according to Spoiler TV. NOOOOO! I wanted that to be one of my three wrapped up storylines!

Debbie comes back into the Gallagher kitchen, dragging her baby carriage and pillow with her and crying her heart out. None of the siblings appear very concerned-this is the new Shameless, a bunch of strangers occasionally bumping into each other. The biggest “shocker” of the scene is the family is eating Popeye’s instead of KFC. Another jolt that we don’t even know these people anymore, LOL.

Lip I can’t...I just don’t understand the motivation to try to make Xan part of his life when he doesn’t seem to be bonding with her in the least. He asks her if she’d want to stay with him if her mom never comes back-but doesn’t tell the kid why HE wants her to stay or ask Xan why she would want to stay when she says okay. The story is hollow and no one seems to try to be filling it with any substance.

There’s a couple of scenes at the motorcycle shop and it’s so obvious Lip and Brad have no idea what they’re doing-they always just grab wrenches and poke at bike parts with them. Last night Lip kept using the ratchet wrench-I think JAW must like the noise it makes.

Lip sells the bike he restored to get money to buy parental rights from Xan’s mom, and it’s just creepy? Why would the mom know to trust him? I’m still not even convinced WE should trust him-sharing a room with her is creepy af. Anyway, Xan comes running up when Lip’s trying to get the mom to make the deal (and why is Xan out unsupervised in the middle of the night on a dark South Side street? Even if she did “just” sneak out to look for her mom, this is a clear example that Lip isn’t father of the year, that he’s not meeting the bare minimum requirements as a guardian), and the mom drops to hug Xan because it’s the 100th episode and these two characters we barely know should get the big emotional scene? Anyway, Lip drops the check and runs, overwhelmed by an actual show of emotion, no doubt. THIS was the 2nd storyline I was hoping would be over, but then TMZ reported that the actress who plays Xan has been signed for Season 10. Which, BTW, still hasn’t been officially announced and that just seems weird that they haven’t. What is Showtime waiting for?

Fiona Ugh, she was worse than ever this week. Can’t believe these are her waning days-it truly seems like Wells is out to punish her. Fi is on the toilet as Bored brushes his teeth. Fiona goes right from flushing to brushing her teeth WITHOUT WASHING HER HANDS. It was so gross-I hope next episode she and Bored have pink eye and mouth thrush. (Fi also touches her lip after putting on lipstick-still without the benefit of soap.) They still have no fucking chemistry, and they start talking about the election which of course they don’t see eye to eye on. Then Fi goes to Patsy’s for the first time in forever and Wells gets to recycle the Fi vs Ian fight over gentrification from last season by having Fi on the opposite side of Frank’s candidate, although they don’t bother to give us any face-to-face interaction. Which is just fine, since the election storyline was boring and weak anyway.

Fi is a total...I don’t even know the word-what do you call a boss who doesn’t allow their workers their freedom as voters? She tells the waitresses to take off their buttons supporting their candidate and that there can be “no electioneering” at the workplace, but puts up a poster for her guy and offers free pie to anyone who puts on one of his buttons. Would she ever really be that clueless and such a bully? Does anyone care anymore?

Later, Fiona goes to the Alibi and has a conversation with Vee where she basically says, “This is what Ford is telling me to think this week...” Fiona says she wants to vote for the guy against rent control, the businessman And Vee points out that “the businessman” in Washington isn’t working out too great. Ooh, Shameless, rushing in with the timely political commentary! (There will be more too, ugh.)

When Fi shows up at her (or a?) polling place, there’s a rumble going on and Wells has her throw one punch to show us she’s still “South Side”, I guess. It was gratuitous. It did not remind us of the show’s glory days, it was a thrown in pointless moment that was so outrageously just tacked on.

In Fiona’s final scene this week, Bored walks into the apartment building with his massive wooden toolbox reminding us he’s a massive tool, and Fiona tells him how she changed her vote, they kiss, and women’s rights are set back another 100 years. Oh, and Bored still squints A LOT delivering his lines. Emmy seems to open hers even wider, probably unconsciously trying to get the other actor to at least try to keep his open once in a while...

Veronica and Kevin There was some more truly awful “rape jokes” this week. Rape is never going to be funny, and with the week this country suffered through last week-plus the fact that it’s still ongoing-I really wish they had just deleted all the Alibi scenes. Kev makes up a scoreboard or bingo sheet (it isn’t clear) of all the “types” of rapey behavior that can now be shorthanded into a celebrity’s name. I won’t even justify the “joke” with some examples. And then KEVIN becomes a sought-after consultant to make other South Side bars less rapey because he’s the white man running the Alibi and Vee is...not.

Frank is in the episode more than I’m going to talk about, but suffice it to say I do truly believe his election storyline is over (one out of three is not good enough, Shameless! Wrap up the boring shit that’s going nowhere and do something with the other shit that’s also going nowhere!) Mo wins the election, and Wells has a reporter say it’s because voters were afraid to say they were bigots in polls. Which again, this show is too narrow to try to address larger issues-if that’s Wells’ theory why Trump won, it doesn’t explain how “bigoted voters” elected Obama twice. Try making the world a better place, Wells. Yes, there is racism and idiot bigotry here, but there was just something smug about how he justified his fictional political outcome. There was a scene where Frank’s asking some of the Gallaghers if they’re voting-Carl says he’s too young, Lip says he’s not registered, and Ian says, “What’s the point?” And that pissed me off too, because we’re having Gay Jesus shoved down our throats, but then Wells seems to be saying Ian won’t bother to vote and would rather blow shit up. Again, the kid that ORIGINALLY had the dream to serve his country by going to West Point. And fucking Lip-what, he’s too “smart” to think voting matters?

(Also in that scene, Ian was eating peanut butter toast, but still no sign of his pill bottles. Cam actually took a bite of the toast, if that type of dedication to his craft matters to anyone.)

The post credits “joke” was a pedo joke about Mo. Fuck you, John Wells.

The only thing Frank was good for this week was to lead us back to Mickey’s house. As so often with this show, I have to forget context (good thing I’ve had plenty of practice, I guess?) and I will fully admit that when I saw Mickey’s little castle of a house I teared up a little. It was like seeing an old friend.

But then of course they had to ruin it by Frank knocking on the door, we hear Terry yelling and hitting a dog named Adolf (they put a yelp in and everything) and Terry opens the door wielding a baseball bat that brought Negan and Jeffery Dean Morgan to mind-I hope that was a shout out to him. The bat had nails in embedded in it instead of barbed wire, but close enough. Best not to imagine how much cooler the show might have been with JDM instead of Sean, sigh.

A much funnier joke than anything they did give us about Mo White would’ve been to have Frank ask Terry, “Still have a connection with Russians? I have an election to rig.”

Finally we get to Ian but just because he had more screen time this week doesn’t mean we’re any closer to knowing anything. And I was going to bust Cameron for acting very sleepy and out of it in all of his scenes, but then I realized that’s pretty much how all the Gallagher kids actors have been acting, except for Fiona (and I’d say she’s trying too hard sometimes. There’s also been lots of scenes so far where it seems like she’s phoning it in-but of course they’re giving her shit to do).

Anyway, things this episode start in the Gallagher kitchen, Ian groans when he sees the coffee’s all gone, and says he’s not sleeping-he got too used to all the noise in jail, it’s too quiet here. Well, bitch, the house was always lively when the Milkovich siblings were there too, work on getting them back...

Lip asks him if he met his public defender yet and Ian says Geneva and the Gay Jesus donors got him a lawyer, “rich, queer, too much time on his hands since same sex marriage got fixed.” Um, why is Ian sounding so put out with the guy without even meeting him? What’s this superiority complex?

Later Ian walks into GJ church HQ and he’s limping, but I don’t think it’s a continuity error, I think they probably just had him film scenes out of order that day and I think he went a little too hard, LOL. Anyway, the GJ kids applaud and Geneva hugs him-she’s into it, he’s not. At the HQ they’re making silk screen shirts with Ian’s face and Gay Jesus signs. Geneva is once again spouting out statistics, saying how wildly popular the movement is, 77,000 followers in the past five days-One Direction at their height was gaining popularity around the globe like that, not this Gay Jesus shit. Ian doesn’t seem to be listening too closely to what she’s spewing, and when two body-builder women walk by he asks Geneva who they are. She says they’re part of the lesbian legion from an MMA gym and adds, “Your gays turned out to be too sweet to handle security.” Whatever-they keep trying to act like there’s all this dynamic action happening off screen-NO ONE CARES since all we ever see is Ian moping around, looking like Cameron has a headache.

Next time we see Ian he’s walking around outside in his red kicks (really wish we knew the significance of those-are they supposed to be like Jesus’ sandals? What happened in the cut scene where he left them in the aisle last season? I only want to know because the show seems to think they mean SOMETHING)-anyway, where’s Ian going? Why? We’re never told-great storytelling this ain’t, kids. A van slows up next to him and a guy leans out and says, “You’re Ian, right? Gay Jesus?” How did the guys in the van know where Ian would be walking? Do they just circle the Gay Jesus church hoping he’ll come out? Again, we’ll never know. The guy continues, “I’ve been watching your videos with my friends. The burning vans, the sermons-it’s inspiring.” Ian says thanks. The guy says, “You really think that’s what Jesus was teaching?” Ian says, “Inclusion, love, acceptance for all? Yeah, absolutely.” Then the van guy says, “You don’t think God sees homosexual bestiality as a sinful perversion of His divine creations?” Ian’s confused, says, “What?”, sees the sliding panel door of the van open, and takes off running, jumping over fences and at some point in his getaway, pulling some muscle in his tight jeans.

Next time we see Ian he’s sitting alone in the Gallagher kitchen nursing a beer and his thigh. (No Bible this time-no sign of his pills either.) Lip comes in and asks him if he’s okay and Ian says he maybe pulled a hamstring running from homophobes. Lip says, “I guess there’s nothing new about that, right?” and you wonder just when he stopped caring so completely about his brother.

Ian doesn’t bother to answer, sips his beer instead. After a minute he quietly asks Lip, “Think you could do hard time?” Lip: In prison? Uh...rather not. I: Gay Jesus kids don’t want me to cop a plea. Want me to take it to trial. Get as much publicity for the cause as I can. L: What’s your lawyer say? I: Could be looking at 10-15 if I don’t take a deal. (Me at home, screaming at the TV: WHAT ARE THE CHARGES? WHY CAN’T THEY EVER TELL US ANYTHING? WHAT ARE THEY SAYING YOU DID THAT’S ON PAR WITH MICKEY’S BULLSHIT ATTEMPTED 2ND DEGREE MURDER SENTENCE????)

Lip, rather than saying ANYTHING to the brother he’s closest to about maybe not giving up his entire young adulthood to a cause, not saying something like, “You’d be older than the real Jesus got to live till by the time you get out”, not saying if he thinks Ian’s an idiot if he’s even questioning doing hard time in a bad place, no, rather than that, he takes his coffee out of the microwave and comes around the counter to the same side as Ian and says, “You ah, hearing from Shim again?” I: Sometimes. (Me at home: WHAT? WHEN? What does that look like when it happens?) L: Well, what does Shim think? I: Unclear. (Oh, Ian, are you kidding me? All this time you thought you were talking to god but you’ve just been playing with a Magic 8 Ball?) L: Xan’s mom showed up today. (Guess we’re done talking about Ian then!) She’s a junkie. Hookin’... I: What are you going to do? L: I don’t know. I: Maybe you should try asking Shim. L: Maybe.

End scene. So again, we get tantalizingly close to a discussion about what might be going on inside Ian’s head-is he getting it? That the Gay Jesus movement is just using him at this point? Or does he really think going to prison as the highly recognizable face of said movement is going to work out somehow-other than him not dying a painful and brutal death? And why can’t Lip give enough of a shit to at least ask him not to go? Fuuuuuuck.

Next Ian’s back at GJ HQ. Geneva comes in and says she didn’t see him come in. He says he came in the back-all the hugging and applause when he comes in the front is kinda weird. Since Geneva is the only one who ever hugs him, I hope she’s getting the hint. He’s looking over the “Free Gay Jesus” posters.

Ian: What is this? Geneva: Couple of the arty kids are working out a few ideas for if you do end up in prison. I: Couple assholes in a van chased me last night. Apparently they’re not very big fans of my interpretation of Bible verse. G: Fuckers. I’ll get you a couple of lesbian legion body guards. They’d love nothing more than to a chance to stomp homophobes. (Because, yeah, THAT was Jesus’ message.) Ian holds up a Che Jesus shirt with an unintentionally hilarious graphic of him wearing a beret-Showtime probably thinks fans want to buy them (I wrote these notes before Steve Howey tweeted he wants one last night. It got less than a thousand likes, and I bet that number would be less than half if Cam hadn’t replied).

I: Think any of this is gonna end up making a difference? G: Ian, you’ve given thousands of gay and lesbian teenagers a voice. (Insert Mickey gif of “Not really tho” here.) You’ve inspired us to stand up and fight for ourselves.

So much wrong with so much of that. First of all, is Geneva LGBT? She was a runaway who ran away from having to give blowjobs, right, not because her parents kicked her out for being LGBT? And she’s been crushing on Ian since Day 1, so, probably not “L”, and Wells clearly doesn’t believe in “B”, so who is Geneva to say “us”? And next, IF Ian/Gay Jesus has given kids “a voice”, what is he saying for them-are the teens really into his whole “Jesus was a junkie”, “my god is non-binary” shouting that they haven’s shown since last year? Don’t teens get bored and move on to the next thing when their idols aren’t doing anything new? Lastly, she says they are standing up and fighting for themselves-where, when, how?

I: Know what I was thinking when I was running away from those bastards? (Me at home: NO! We never know what you’re thinking! That’s the whole damn problem with your storylines!) It’s been 2000 years since Jesus died on the cross and I’m still running for my life down an alley because I fall in love with men instead of women. (No, Ian, you’ve only ever loved one (1) man-fucking admit that for once and then get on with your life. That line should’ve been “have sex with”, no one deserves to be chased down for that either, and it wouldn’t have made me exasperated with Ian over the whole “love” thing, which is a separate issue this show fucking needs to handle before it’s all said and done with Ian.)

Then one of the GJ kids comes in to report there’s a bunch of Nazi’s keeping people from getting to one of the polls and we don’t see Ian again this episode. But again, I hope that they’re finally having him wake up to the fact that NO ONE cares about him. The family has washed its hands of him, the Gay Jesus followers WANT him to go to prison (and probably die) and be a martyr for the cause. Time to ask yourself who is the only person who ever looked at you and actually saw you there, Ian. The only person to look you in the eye and say, “I love you.”

#Recap #Camless Episode 4 #Season Nein #Nobody wants it

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tjkiahgb · 6 years

Text

Episode Recap: 2.15, “Perfect Day 2.0″

The episode starts with the GHC thinking about how to spend their last week together. Cyrus says, “It’s the world’s saddest countdown,” which isn’t true.

This is the world’s saddest countdown:

youtube

(This is a joke about someone doing a poor cover version of the song “The Final Countdown” by the band Europe. They were big in the 1980s. Ask your parents what the 1980s were.)

They decide they’ll recreate their perfect day, which, in my opinion, is a mistake. Perfect is a crazy bar to clear. You shouldn’t aim that high. I say aim to recreate a fairly good to decent day, like the time I spent a whole day eating Bagel Bites and watching a marathon of “House Hunters International.” Or the day I had three meals that were just fine and saw a cool cloud. Or the day I slept through.

The GHC commits to the plan, though, and get their bikes fixed up to take off on adventure.

They begin by doing some of the shakiest bike riding I’ve ever seen and Andi says this:

Which feels like a personal shot at me, because that’s all I’m doing here. I’m reading into everything. Including this line of dialogue. Which is a personal attack.

The GHC bikes through the countryside into the woods in search of pumpkin donuts, which seems like an Autumn-based seasonal product? Is this Autumn still? I thought last episode they were trying to get Buffy to stay until the end of the school year, so I assume it’s Spring-ish? I’ve lost all control of the timeline. I want to assume it’s Spring, but I have a tough time believing this store would do something so stupid as to sell pumpkin donuts out-of-season when there’s so much good, fresh fruit available! Who runs a small business out in the middle of the woods like this?!

Also, this seems way off the beaten path. They did this same trip years ago? Like when they were small children? That’s a lot of rope to give 8 year olds. Celia let Andi bicycle into the woods and buy sugary treats, huh? Ok.

Anyway, the GHC get cider and pumpkin donuts.

Back in town, Jonah gets an anxiety-induced attack.

Jonah appears to just be going everywhere now in a constant state of panic. He bursts into the music store where Bowie’s hanging out, panting and pacing.

He’s also wearing half of a Def Leppard shirt and half of another shirt that’s also maybe a different Def Leppard shirt? I can’t make heads or tails of it. It just says “Def Le” and becomes another shirt. Like Jonah’s having so many panic attacks, he’s ripping his shirts in half and piecing them back together at random.

Bowie tries to calm him down and teach him some guitar chords. Jonah plays the chords with body language of someone defusing a bomb.

Bowie asks if he wants to play more. Jonah asks if the store manager will mind, which, of course not. If you don’t want hippy-looking dudes and teenagers just hanging around your store, playing music and not buying things, then you don’t open a guitar shop! It comes with the territory! Bowie invites Jonah to come watch him play a show sometime. Jonah agrees.

The GHC get ready to leave the food shack in the woods when they discover 2/3 of their bikes have been stolen, which is horrible. Used to be you could go out into the middle of the woods and not have to worry about crime. Nowadays? The world’s going to heck in a hand basket, I tell ya.

I wonder where TJ is.

Buffy says they should call Bex. Andi doesn’t want to because they need to recreate their perfect day down to the smallest detail. She thinks they can all ride on her old bike, which they can’t, so they start walking.

A bee, possibly the one that came near him earlier in the episode, comes after Cyrus. Cyrus takes off running.

I don’t know if it’s Josh the person bleeding through or Josh the actor is doing an amazing job pretending to be a very uncoordinated character, but every physical thing Cyrus does, from bike riding to running, looks incredibly laborious.

Cyrus ends up with his foot in a hole. He loses his shoe to nature. They try to figure out how they’re going to continue when, dear God a county sheriff officer is right up on top of them in her SUV. She came up really quick and out of nowhere like some kind of spirit guide of the forest that drives a very quiet Ford Explorer and rescues lost children.

The sheriff offers them a ride and they start getting into the car.

Meanwhile, Jonah and Bowie are having themselves a little jam session.

Bowie figures out there’s more going on with Jonah and that he’s having panic attacks. Jonah admits he’s not seeing a doctor about it, and though he doesn’t want to keep having them, it seems his plan is to just tough it out, ducking into random places to wait out his constant attacks until he either finds himself back in a relationship or... dies of old age? I’m not here to judge anyone’s choices regarding their mental health, but I got to say, I feel like that’s not going to work.

Jonah asks Bowie not to tell Andi. He says he won’t, but adds that he thinks she’d understand, which, yeah, probably. She’s been friends with Cyrus for this long and he’s like a walking panic attack. I’m sure she’s figured out some stuff by now.

Bowie says Jonah has talent and offers to give him lessons. I guess it’s a pretty lucky thing Jonah came into the music store where Bowie was and didn’t run into the bakery or something. Although, he could also have a talent for making pastries. The world will never know now.

Back in the woods, the GHC finally finish getting into the sheriff’s car. It took them a very long time. At least two static scenery transition shots worth. They see their stolen bikes being ridden away and ask the sheriff to stop the thieves, but the sheriff gets a call about a grand theft auto, so she’s got to go to that. Used to be you could park your car in town and not have to worry about it getting stolen. Nowadays? Heck in a hand basket. Heck in a hand basket.

What do you think TJ’s up to at this very moment?

The sheriff drops them back off at the donut place. They realize too late that they left almost all of their stuff in the back of the cop car. The sheriff is gone before they can get her attention. (Life pro tip: if you want a police officer to come to you, all you need to do is commit a crime, like violating a noise ordinance, or getting publicly intoxicated, or armed robbery. There’s almost literally no place you can’t commit a crime. Get creative. The GHC, for example, could’ve burned down the closed donut shop. Arson would’ve brought the sheriff back with all of their stuff in a hurry.)

Cyrus’ phone has 2% life in it. Buffy wants to call Bex to come get them, but Andi doesn’t want to give Bex the satisfaction of knowing she was right. Andi goes to tell Bex, but then bails as Cyrus and Buffy scream and the phone dies. Bold move on Andi’s part. I, too, would rather die in the woods than let my parents know they were right about something trivial.

Andi admits this craziness is all because she wants Buffy to leave with a good memory. The bee returns and stings Cyrus.

Look, off-topic maybe a little here, but I’m with Cyrus in his hatred of bees. I know, I know, everyone now is all like, “Bees are important. The bees are dying and we don’t know why. It could ruin the planet! Save the bees! Save the bees!” I’m like, nah, kill ‘em all. Do it. And while we’re at it: wasps, yellow jackets, any bug that can sting or bite. Dead. All of them. Also, cockroaches. They don’t sting or bite, but I hate them, too. Let’s just do it and see what happens. I bet we’ll be fine. And if not, the human race can go extinct knowing that at least we took the bees with us. That’s enough of a victory in my book.

Anyway, the GHC march through a field and are saved by a Deus Bex Machina (this is a really good joke, trust me). Bex takes them all back to town and to The Spoon where they joke about their misadventure. It won’t be remembered as their worst day, but possibly their craziest.

They then see two boys wearing shirts from the Alpine slide they never made it to and jump to the wild conclusion that those are the bike thieves. With rage in their eyes, and madness in their hearts, the GHC vows to get revenge.

They run out of the restaurant and steal the two boys’ bikes. They get 30 feet away before realizing the bikes they’re on aren’t theirs. Then they laugh wildly about their larceny.

Used to be a time you could park your bike outside the local diner and not have to worry about it being stolen by a group of maniacs. Heck, hand basket, and all that.

They suddenly remember they only have a week together again and the mood sours. They hug and say they’ll see each other tomorrow. Andi and Cyrus go to return the bikes and Buffy does this:

She turned around! Which, as anyone who’s paid attention to the show understands, means she:

a. likes Andi

b. likes Cyrus

c. likes stolen bikes

We’ll have to wait to find out, though, because that’s where the episode ends.

Unrelated, but I bet whatever TJ was up to during this episode was good. Like, I bet he was off practicing free throw shooting, or helping the elderly eat food or something. Whatever he was doing, I bet it wasn’t thievery, which is more than I can say for some of the characters on this show.

#Andi Mack #Buffy Driscoll #Cyrus Goodman #Jonah Beck #Bowie Quinn #Bex Mack #Andi #episode recaps

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heckstetter · 7 years

Text

The Bowers Gang reacts to their S/O calling them Daddy for the firt time

Anonymous said to heckstetter:

Can I request the gang's reaction to their s/o calling them daddy for the first time?

YESSSSSSSSSSS, ohhh my god I hate that I have a Daddy kink but one of my exes made it so good for me qvq I’m sorry it took all day! I was gonna sit down and start writing it as soon as the request came in but my sister asked if I would help with grocery shopping today and that took so much longer than expected and then I tried to finish it but fell the fuck asleep.

Also! I wrote this in a more headcanon style rather than the drabble style of my last post, if you were the one who requested it and wanted it in more of a story style, let me know and I’ll rewrite it! Heck, even if you weren’t the one to request this and still want it in more of a drabble style let me know!!! I may or may not have already started writing it out lmao

Everything is under the read more because it gets very NSFW!

Henry:

Ø You’ve been playing around with the idea of having a sort of “kink discussion” with your boyfriend for a while now.

Ø You didn’t want to have a Daddy kink, but oh lord did it turn you the fuck on. It’s fine, you’ve accepted who you are and what you like.

Ø And your boyfriend, Henry, also turned you the fuck on.

Ø He was rough in all of the right ways. He knew how to push you to your limits, he fucked you ‘til you turned black and blue; leaving his mark on you in the form of bruises, cuts, and love bites.

Ø He was hot shit and you were living for it.

Ø And one of the best things about dating Henry, was that in the quiet of the night after the brutal fucking and punishments, he’d hold you tight to him and whisper sweet, loving nothings in your ear.

Ø Words he’d never, ever say in front of his group of friends, mind you, but that didn’t take away the significance of those soft moments between the two of you and how safe he made you feel.

Ø Henry made you feel small, protected, loved, and wanted.

Ø So basically, Henry was Daddy AF and you kind of, sort of, really wanted to tell him!

Ø Well, maybe not tell him up front. In all honesty, you wanted to be under him, whimpering out “Daddy, please!” and “Daddy, you make me feel so good” as he fucks his thick cock into you over and over again.

Ø You had one problem, however. His reaction.

Ø If there was anyone in your group of peers with #daddyissues, it was Henry Bowers. You knew of his dad, Henry doing everything in his power to prevent you from formally meeting him, but you knew exactly what his father was capable of and the quality of life Henry had at home.

Ø You were pretty sure that Henry would never be interested in you calling him daddy, due to bad associations with the word. But you were resolved to bring it up to him!

Ø These kinds of conversations were important in relationships! Communication of wants, interests, and expectations was a healthy thing to do!

Ø Yea… Except y’all never got that far. The second the words “Kind of a sex talk?” left your lips, Henry was all over you.

Ø He shoved you down onto your bed, pulling you close to him to kiss you roughly. You tried to move away from his hungry kisses, but damn.

Ø Your boy was addicting, and you gave up the second he started nipping and licking and sucking along your jawline.

Ø Next thing you knew, both of you were naked and fucking like you’d never see each other again. You were on your back, pretty much bent in half because Henry was holding the back of your thighs, your calves thrown over his shoulders, as he jackhammered into you.

Ø “Unh, fuck! Daddy, please!” You cried out, scratching your nails down his back. You didn’t even realize what you had said, at first until his response.

Ø He didn’t falter in his brutal pace, instead fucking you even harder, panting his pleasure in your ear

Ø “Fuck, baby girl, you like that?” He asked, and all you could do was nod and whimper as one of the hands holding your thigh moved down to where the two of you were joined, rubbing your clit hard as he continued to fuck you, “Mm, fuck yea, baby! Cum all over Daddy’s cock.”

Ø Who were you to disobey an order like that? It was by far, the absolute hardest you had ever orgasmed in your life.

Ø Even after that amazing experience, you still didn’t really talk to Henry about the kink or how to delve into it in a deeper manner, but you also never had sex without saying it anymore.

Ø Henry was insufferably smug about it for weeks until you had the guts to whisper “Daddy” in his ear while the two of you were hanging out with his gang in Belch’s Trans Am.

Ø Needless to say, he made Belch take the two of you home immediately.

Patrick:

o In order to maintain any real kind of relationship with a guy like Patrick Hockstetter, you had to be either a) pretty kinky or b) have the patience of a god damned saint to be willing to go through all of his kinks.

o You just so happened to be the former option, having known about your “unusual” sexual interests long before you had ever known the lanky teen who was now your boyfriend.

o You were also more than happy to play the role of his masochistic plaything, enjoying all the creative ways he could hurt you and mark you as his own.

o Throughout the course of your relationship, you’ve sustained plenty of injuries ranging from burns to lacerations, broken blood vessels and blackening bruises, sprained joints and even a fractured wrist on one evening.

o (The two of you were regulars at the local pharmacy, always buying heaps of medical supplies and a large box of condoms that never seemed to last you through the week. This unfortunately gave Greta ample evidence to fuel her cruel rumors around school, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. It was all consensual fun to the two of you, no matter how insane it sounded to everyone else.)

o All your kinks seemed to neatly align with his own… except for one.

o Patrick wasn’t interested in titles. He didn’t care for being called Master, and Sir felt too informal to both of you. He didn’t bring up any other suggestions after that and you were too chickenshit to mention the one thing you really wanted to call him.

o “Daddy…” You imagine yourself hissing out in a hazy mix of pleasure and pain as you’re laid out naked over his lap, his hand— No, his belt striking your ass and your lower back at a tempo you can’t quite keep track of but are too fucked out to care.

o Your fantasy never goes beyond that moment. Patrick is well known for his unpredictability and while you knew him well enough, you couldn’t conjure up what you’d think his real reaction would be.

o Despite not being able to think of an outcome, that was one of your favorite things to imagine. You loved being bent over his lap, the feeling of his erection poking into your belly as he switched between caressing you with his long, talented fingers and hitting you with pretty much any item in the room that he knew would fucking hurt.

o You liked to indulge yourself in this fantasy on the rare occasion you’d be spending the night by yourself. More often than not, Patrick would make his way through your window after everyone else in your household has gone to sleep and stay with you.

o He didn’t do it every night, though, and as the time he usually showed up by came and went, you couldn’t help but let your own hands wander down the front of your jeans, stroking yourself lightly as you thought of all the nasty things your boyfriend did to you.

o God, you were already so fucking wet. Even the thought of Patrick was enough to make you insane with want.

o “Ffffuck,” You whine, your head thrown back against your pillow and your eyes squeezed shut as you pushed your underwear to the side and really started to work yourself, “Uhh… Patrick— Daddy! Please!”

o “Getting started without me, baby girl? I think that’s grounds for a punishment.”

o You rip your hand out of your pants as your eyes fly open as you turn to face your boyfriend. He’s sitting in your windowsill, looking at you with a wild glint in his eyes as his tongue darts out to lick his lips in his usual predatory manner.

o “Were you feeling lonely, Y/N?” He asks, an edge of mockery to his voice, “Does Daddy not take care of you well enough that you had to bring matters into your own hands?”

o God damn it.

o God fucking damn it.

o He had heard you. He had fucking heard you fucking yourself on your fucking fingers while thinking about his stupid sexy fucking self and he had fucking heard you call him Daddy.

o With the way he was looking at you, you were pretty sure you were about to die. Or get fucked until you die.

o “I’m waiting.” He snaps at you, “Are you going to answer me? Does Daddy not treat you right? Does he not fuck you hard enough? Long enough? Does Daddy not let you cum on his dick?”

o You try to explain yourself to him, but it’s no use. He’s in one of his moods at this point, somewhere between horny as hell at the sight of seeing you touch yourself to the thought of him (it’s not the first time he’s watched, he’s seen you pleasure yourself time and time again with and without your knowledge) and pissed the fuck off that you thought you could keep one of your kinks from him.

o He ties you to your bed and fucks you mercilessly until you’re screaming for Daddy.

o The next day, he makes you promise to never keep any secrets from him. Even if it’s something you think is stupid or that he won’t like. Patrick insists he doesn’t care what it is, he’s your boyfriend and he has a right to knowing.

o A few days later, your sitting around Belch’s Trans Am with the gang and as usual the topic gets incredibly sexual. The two of you were the only ones getting anything on a consistent basis because you were seeing each other so more often than not these conversations were about your sex life.

o “I bet Y/N never cums when she fucks you.” Henry teases, albeit quite rudely.

o “Oh, bullshit,” Patrick laughs and grabs at his dick through his jeans, “Y/N cums on Daddy’s cock all night.”

o You punch him. You punch him right in the throat.

o Belch, Vic, and Henry are all somewhere between horrified and disgusted and Patrick can’t stop laughing.

o God damn it.

Vic (I uh. I changed the request up on this one a bit.):

ü So, you’re in your bedroom, just spending the afternoon lazing about with your boyfriend, Vic.

ü He’s laying down in your bed, starfished the fuck out so you have no choice but to be laying pretty much directly on top of him. (He does it on purpose. He thinks you don’t know.)

ü The two of you were sort of drifting in and out of sleep, making out a little bit every now and then, or having silly little conversations about nothing in particular.

ü Basically, y’all are just being a disgustingly adorable couple. (He’d never do this around his friends, but they know how cuddly he gets.)

ü You’re kissing at his jaw line, lightly dragging your teeth over old lovebites because it makes him shiver and inhale sharply. His hands are on your ass, gripping you tightly as you slowly sink your teeth into the most sensitive part of his neck to suck at and darken the bruise that was already there. (Since the two of you started dating, he has always had a hickey in that spot. In other spots too, but none as ever-present as that spot.)

ü You can feel his erection poking your stomach and you couldn’t help but giggle. You loved knowing what you could do to him, and all of the things he felt for you and because of you.

ü “Got a problem, baby?” You ask, your tone teasing yet still deep with want. Vic huffs and uses his grip on your ass to pull you up closer, grinding his erection into your own developing problem.

ü “You really gonna tease me like that, Y/N?” He asks, biting his lip seductively while continuing the slow roll of his hips, “You better start behaving before Daddy bends you over his knee, babygirl.”

ü What.

ü The two of you stop all of your motions immediately, processing what the fuck just came out of Victor’s mouth. You thought he had been blushing from all the attention before, but his skin went from soft pink to bright fucking red.

ü “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” “…you have a daddy kink?” You both blurt out at the same time.

ü “No! Okay, maybe… yes. Yes, I do.” Vic admits, pointedly looking around the room instead of your face.

ü “It’s not a bad thing, Vic.” You say after a moment of silence, “Unexpected, but not bad. I’ll call you that if you’re really into it.”

ü To be honest, Vic didn’t seem like the Daddy type at all, but hey! You loved your boyfriend and everything about him and if he got his rocks off to you calling him Daddy then you’d call him that god damn it!

ü “Really?” He asks, finally daring to make eye contact with you, he shifts slightly so you can’t feel his erection twitch with renewed interest. (You felt it, though. He wasn’t great at hiding these things from you.)

ü “Yes, Daddy.” You purr, balancing on your knees for a second so you can undo his jeans and pull his hard cock out. You move your panties to the side, already so wet, and sink down on him inch by inch.

ü Both of you threw your heads back at the feeling of him being fully inside of you. He moved his hands from your ass to your hips, gripping you tight enough so that he could pick you up and drop you back down on his dick.

ü Oh.

ü “Daddy!” You cry out sharply as he does it again and again and again.

ü You’re in for a long night and come out of it just as into the whole Daddy thing as he is.

ü You both tease each other about it in front of your friends. They hate you :’^)

Belch (also changed up the request a bit here):

§ You’re pretty sure that the most surprising thing about your relationship with Belch (at least to outsiders) was just how great the two of you were about communicating pretty much everything with each other.

§ Neither of you were sparkling conversationalists, and people often referred to you as the quiet ones in your respective groups of friends but with each other?

§ Everything just flowed so easily, you never were frightened to tell Belch about anything and he could spend hours holding you in the back seat of your car just talking the night away (among other things.)

§ So, naturally, when you discovered a particular kink that you had the literal first thing that you did was consider if it meant enough to you to bring it up to your boyfriend and when the best time to talk to him about it would be.

§ Healthy! Communication!

§ Unfortunately, there was no easy way to really bring up wanting to call your boyfriend Daddy, but you couldn’t help but think about (and thoroughly enjoy) all the things about him that helped you develop this kink.

§ He was physically bigger than you, and while his size tended to be a bit of a sensitive issue for him, you thought he was downright the fucking sexiest man alive. He could pick you up and manhandle you in any which way he wanted, whenever he wanted, and that does a lot for someone let me fuckin tell you.

§ Not only that, but he was willing to do absolutely whatever to see you smile and make you feel like the most special person alive.

§ His friends would often give him shit for times he went out of his way to make you happy, but he just shrugged and gave him his usual spiel of “A real man would do whatever t’ make his S/O happy” and “A good boyfriend always makes sure his S/O is his fuckin’ priority.”

§ He took care of you in all the best ways and then held you down and fucked you ‘til you cried.

§ Belch Huggins was Daddy as fuck, and you were gonna tell him so.

§ The conversation happened during lunch, as most of your private conversations at school do. You snuck out of the cafeteria holding hands as you made your way over to Amy, his well-kept Trans Am.

§ “What’d you wanna talk about, baby?” He asks as you two pile into the backseat. Y’all usually sat up front but you wanted him to be holding you during this conversation.

§ “So, I know we’re not really a kinky couple…” You began, and Belch nodded understandingly. Compared to pretty much all of your friends (COUGHPATRICKCOUGHHENRYCOUGHVICTORCOUGH), the two of you were the most vanilla of the group. Not that you were completely vanilla or that y’all didn’t have good sex. “Well, what if I wanted to… um.”

§ Belch holds you closer to him, one of his big hands resting on your lower back and the other lovingly cupping your face, “You can tell me, Y/N.”

§ “Can I call you Daddy?” You ask, “Like… in bed, I mean!”

§ He doesn’t respond at first, just staring in your eyes and smiling. The hand that was cupping your face slooowly moves down to the front of your jeans. He swiftly unbuttons them but waits until you nod to push his hand inside, letting his fingers gently tease you.

§ “You wanna call me Daddy, babygirl?” Belch asks as he slips two fingers inside of you, “Yer gonna be naughty and drag me out to my car durin’ lunch and whisper about how much Daddy turns you on?”

§ His fingers are moving faster inside you now and you’re already soaked and it’s making this incredibly lewd noise but you can’t bring yourself to do anything but move your hips against his hand and scratch at his back as he fingerfucks you.

§ “Oh fuck, Daddy!” You whimper, “Daddy, please let me cum!”

§ “I wasn’t sure if I was gonna let ya cum, babygirl.” Belch admits, but doesn’t slow down or stop, “But all Daddy wants right now is to watch you cum all over his fingers.”

§ So you do, and then the Lunch bell rings. Belch makes his friends walk home because the only thing he wants to do as soon as school is out is drive you out to somewhere private and really get to explore this new kink of yours.

#texts from the crypt #henry bowers x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #victor cross x reader #belch huggins x reader #the bowers gang x reader #it 2017 #my post #my writing

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