#you know that scene in Punch-Drunk Love where he says he wants to bash her face in and she says she wants to rip his eyes out and suck on

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Don’t Give Yourself Away

Pt. 2 of the Low Life series that I started forever and a day ago! It’s just the enemies section of the enemies-to-lovers plot, bear with me here

TW: alcohol, underage drinking, driving under the influence, mentions of violence, violent thoughts, Billy just wanting to punch things basically

Read it on A03 here! :D

~~~*~~~

Fuck Steve Harrington.

That’s the consensus that Billy’s brain has come to as he sits in the overcrowded, gratingly loud cafeteria of Hawkins High. It’s been half a day here and that’s the only thing ringing through his ears  as he picks at the hunk of ground up meat this school tries to pass off as “food”.

“I mean, who the fuck does he think he is anyway?”

That’s Tommy, grunting over a mouthful of applesauce, his girlfriend sitting next to him and twisting up her mouth in some kind of disgusted agreement. Or maybe it’s more so irritation at the very bitter topic of interest. Billy can only grunt wordlessly back at him.

Tommy’s been rattling off for the last ten minutes about how Steve “betrayed” them, Carol’s listening with vague disinterest, and Billy’s thinking of ways to crawl out of his skin. All it took was one long look at Steve Harrington this morning in the parking lot to tell him he was in some serious trouble. And when that wide eyed girl got out of the same car… Billy felt the bitter fire of jealousy lick at every corner within him. And lord did he hate it.

He hates even more how he can’t even convince himself in some kind of soothing reprieve that she’s just a friend or a sister because he saw them. In the hallway when he was walking from one dreary class to another. Billy heard the guy giggle as she hit his chest and reprimanded him for his “stupid” sunglasses. As he smiled the brightest thing Billy had ever seen and said something that sounded like “I missed you”. Said something like “Tell me about it” when she pointed out that it had only been an hour. He purred it out as he cradled the side of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss; pulled her closer, smiling like she was everything and he couldn’t be close enough. Right there in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see. For all the hope and potential to seep out of Billy’s body and pool onto the ground.

“Leaving us to be with those… freaks.”

The boy in question is about 2 tables over, talking with that girl and some lanky dude with a shaggy haircut who looks like he can’t hold himself upright. Billy thinks it’s the punk he bumped into earlier in the hallway as he stormed away from whatever show Steve Harrington thought he was putting on with that girl. The same kid who Tommy and Carol were picking on earlier as they entered the cafeteria- sending rude jeers and snickers his way about being “cursed” and “creepy”.

Tommy and Carol are jackasses. It doesn’t take a whole lot of time for Billy to put that together- they’re loud and inconsiderate, walking and acting like they have something to prove with everything they do. They look down their noses at everyone they can, despite Carol only being 5 foot and Tommy being not even a foot taller. They take up so little space but walk like they can make demands of the world. Small fish in even smaller ponds. Billy knows and hates the type.

But Steve Harrington… He’s 2 tables over and he’s laughing something loud and bright and handing the lanky dude some of his food in some kind gesture and he’s got his arm around that girl and he kisses her temple where her hair meets soft skin and- and Tommy is right. Who the hell does this boy think he is and why the hell does he think he gets to be that way so unabashedly? Where does he get off, shining so brightly that Billy can’t even hope to get near?

“Clearly he made a big mistake.” Carol mutters, paying adamant attention to her tray and looking pissed to high hell with the conversation at hand.

Ripping his eyes away from the laughing and joyful Steve Harrington does more harm than good, because it means Billy has to look at a sulking Carol and Tommy. Billy hates more than anything that these people are the best people for him to stick to. He’s not here to make life-long friends- he’s only got a couple of years until he can get the fuck out and back to California. He’s not clinging to any hope for happiness here, he just wants people who are popular enough to make life easy and tolerable enough to keep him sane. A year or two and that’s it, he’s out and can scrub all of this clean from his memory. And hell, maybe sharing a common enemy will give him something to do in the meantime.

Billy’s not even fully sure what Steve did to these two to have them bitching so much. Tommy’s been rambling uselessly and Carol seems about as sick of it as Billy is, regardless of her seeming to agree. Everyone else around them is paying no mind anymore.

 This shit must happen often…

The only information he’s gathered is that Steve was their friend and they had some violent falling out and now Steve walks around with the prissy girl and the punk-ass boy. It’s been a long 10 minutes already.

 Just two years...

“Not King Steve anymore.” Tommy bites out and that gets Billy listening.

“King Steve?” He scoffs at the title. “Are you serious? Who the hell called him that?”

“Everyone.” A girl chimes in- Billy doesn’t know her name. He stopped inputting information past a certain point.

“Why?” He asks over his orange juice carton.

Everyone at the table looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Because he’s hot.” Carol supplies like it shouldn’t need to be said. Billy holds himself back from comment.

“He’s never had an awkward day in his life.” Tommy says, sounding just as bitter as before. “He acts better than everyone and we all just… agreed.”

At that, Tommy turns in on himself. There’s guilt on his face.

“He practically ruled the school.” Another girl adds, doing a fuck all job of reading the room as she swoons over her words.

And with all that, they’ve answered Tommy’s question.

 He knows exactly who he is. He’s the King, because they told him so.

Billy sends another look his way, to the boy that seems to have everything he could possibly need. The boy smiling and laughing. Somehow Billy doesn’t think this fallen “king” made that big of a mistake. This boy looks like he needs nothing more in his life than these two “losers” and a place to be with them… and Billy feels bitterness in himself growing ever faster.

“Yeah, well not anymore.” Billy growls darkly.

The energy shifts at the table- all the dejected faces of these people who have lost their effervescent leader turn hopeful onto Billy. He couldn’t have guessed to overthrow the “king” of Hawkins High on his very first afternoon, but he can’t say he fully dreads it.

 People doing what I say? Could be nice. It’s good to have people on my side… and it’s only two years.

“Yeah, not anymore.” Tommy nods in agreement, grinning through something sour still. Billy can’t say he really gives a shit about whatever this dude is going through.

“Anyone else to avoid?” Billy asks dismissively.

“Underclassmen mostly.” One girl complains. “God they are so annoying.”

“Some of them are worth a good screw though.”

The girl smacks the guy who just perked up. “You’re so disgusting.”

“I’m right.”

“Stop screwing freshmen! Just because you can’t get anyone else to touch your dick-”

Billy tunes out their bickering.

“I heard Julie’s a pretty good screw, too.” Tommy says lasciviously, clearly feeling more normal again. Carol doesn’t seem to be having it, though.

“I don’t trust Julie as far as I can throw her.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve heard some pretty good things-”

“She talks too much.” Carol crosses her arms indignantly. “It’s the people who talk the most that have done the least. Plus her mother is the town gossip, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? She never shuts her trap.”

Billy hates a gossip. He makes a face that Carol must register, because she’s giving him a look like she’s been proven right.

“Yeah, exactly. So unless you want a single kiss and everyone to know about your dick that she’s never even seen before, you’ll stay away.”

“Jealous?”

Carol turns to Tommy with a gasp. “You’ve never even touched Julie Warner, so don’t you start.”

Tommy’s grin is feral and Carol looks about ready to deck him, but she just scoots in closer to him and continues to pick at her tray of food.

The brisk fall air coming in from the open window feels like an insult. Billy looks outside and wishes it smelled of salt rather than pine. Wishes the trees weren’t so fluffy but rather slim and impossibly tall. Wishes the world wasn’t quite so gray and brown and hopeless. Wishes, wishes, wishes…

He shoves his hands in his pockets for some protection and feels out the crumpled neon invite he dismissively shoved away before.

“What about... Tina?” He asks with general disinterest, reading from the paper in his hand. They shrug.

“Tina’s cool.” Carol admits. “Her mom is out of town on some business thing so the house is gonna be empty for the party.”

“Doesn’t really matter what Tina’s like though.” Tommy says, scraping the bottom of the applesauce container with his spoon like it’s his dying meal. “A party’s a party, right?”

Billy figures he can agree.

“You’re going, yeah?”

All eyes turn to Billy again, expectant. Suddenly, the weight of whatever “leadership” role he’s taken on has hit him. Maybe he should have just skulked in the corner and kept away from anyone’s attention. Maybe all those “freaks” they pick on had the right idea of lurking in the shadows and keeping your head down.

Then again, no. Talk is dangerous, and… Mr. Chief Hopper said it himself: “Not a lot to do around here but talk.” If they’re gonna talk, he’d rather control the conversation.

 Two years…

“Is there anything else to do in this piece of shit town?” He asks by way of an answer, with a sort of disgust he can’t wipe from his words.

They all laugh with mirthless agreement. Clearly, Billy was right. A boring old town full of cow shit and corn stalks- nothing to be proud of or excited about here. He’s surrounded by people itching to get out, just like him… except Billy’s not going to be like them. He’d bet his soul that at least half of these kids are gonna become burnouts trapped in the general area; like wriggling and desperate flies in a small town spiderweb.

“So, Billy…” The girl next to him purrs, scooting in and getting far too close for comfort. “Tell us more about California.”

Billy absentmindedly squirms out of her grip and silently begs for strength.

~~*~~

“I’m very sorry Billy,” Coach Walters or Wallens or goddamn Walrus says, not sounding very sorry at all. “But the roster was already decided over a week ago.”

They stop in front of his office, the man fumbling with a set of keys. Billy’s glaring down at them with furrowed and angered brows, feeling himself snarling at the clanging metal.

He looks up when the Coach does, his expression failing slightly at the almost sympathetic look on the coach’s face.

“I’m sorry. You’re just too late.”

“I can’t be too late.” Billy insists, voice straining a bit. He’s not going to say he’s been following the coach around desperately ever since school got out 20 minutes ago, asking and pushing and borderline pleading to try out for the basketball team… because no one’s here to see it anyway so he doesn’t have to admit to shit.

“You are.” The coach sighs, reaching out to grab the equipment from Billy’s hands. He offered to carry it, thinking it’d give him an edge of favor. Now Billy holds it back like it’s a hostage.

“You can make an exception for me.” Billy says assuredly. Coach Walrus shakes his head, bushy eyebrows low and deep frown unable to be hidden, even behind his abundant whiskery beard and mustache.

“I’ve given two exceptions already to other guys.”

“That’s not my problem!” Billy bites, holding back a wince when the coach frowns harder at him.

There’s a pause, a staring match that holds all of Billy’s hope for a decent time here in this wretched place. There’s nothing to do around here but wander the streets, and the temperature is dropping far too rapidly for that to be comfortable much longer. He doesn’t want to be huddling in the cold outdoors this fall, or god forbid by the time winter sneaks around. And there’s no way in hell that Billy is spending more time at home than he needs to. Billy’s got a few things going for him, but he could count those few things on one hand, and he’s not going to sit here and let one of those things be ripped away by being a week late when that isn’t even his fault.

He stares. He refuses to back down. He refuses to hand over the equipment.

“It is if you wanna make the team.” The coach says lowly. Threatens, if Billy had to guess… but there might be hope in that statement, and it keeps Billy from throwing the sports equipment down on the ground at his feet.

The coach stalks into his office. Billy follows.

“I was on my team back at home.” He tries quickly, heart pulling uncomfortably at the thought of it. He can’t think about things he misses, or he’ll get stuck.

“Alright, that doesn’t mean much.”

“We were in the best division in the state. We won championships.” Billy’s selling his former team way up. No one has to know, and certainly not this man. He only hopes he doesn’t look into it too hard.

The coach takes pause, eyeing Billy as he fiddles uselessly with paperwork on his desk.

“That says nothing about you as a player.”

Billy’s going to pull his hair out. He clutches the bag of dodge balls in his hand with a death grip.

“I can show you how I am as a player.” Billy grits out, vague recognition of threads breaking from under his grip. “If you just let me try out.”

The coach raises his eyebrow.

“You can put that equipment over in that corner.”

Billy looks down at the fraying bag and his popped out veins. He takes a few steps to toss the assaulted bag in the aforementioned corner.

“I just don’t have that kind of time right now, Billy-”

“Well I can vouch for myself.”

“I can’t just have kids vouching for themselves and getting onto our Varsity.”

“I was the best player on my team!”

Some would say that’s debatable, but-

“You were the captain?” the coach asks with a skeptical look. The words “best” and “captain” don’t have any correlation in Billy’s mind, but he nods his head anyway.

“Yes, I was.”

A lie. But it’s not like captain even matters, especially when the real captain was the son of the coach and mediocre at best.

“And do you have someone who can vouch for that?”

Billy reels. He hears a gruff, distant voice in his head.

 ... name and number… someone I can call… your best interest in mind...

He desperately wishes things could just be easy. He wishes it wasn’t such a witch-hunt to find someone who cares.

“You can call my coach.” Billy says, trying not to sound as lame as he feels. He’s fully aware his coach retired last year, it’s some new guy now that Billy didn’t bother to meet before the move. He knows if this man calls, he’s not going to get much by way of an answer. He’s hoping it’ll work in his favor- he seems so busy with fuck knows what that maybe he’ll just get sick enough of this to let it slide.

The exasperated sigh that leaves Coach Walrus seems like the nail in the coffin, Billy’s just not sure which coffin yet-

“Coach?” calls a voice, smooth and distant. “Coach Wallace?”

Another groan fills the room as the coach pushes past with an apologetic face to get back into the gym. Billy follows, feeling more flustered than he’d like. They’re not done here, they can’t be-

“Sorry Steve.” Coach Wallace laments.

 Steve.

The boy in question is standing in the door, mid-afternoon sun backlighting him with a glow that makes Billy want to hurt someone. Maybe him. Maybe there’s something to be said of Billy wanting to destroy every pretty thing he sees.

Steve looks at him with confused curiosity in his eyes. Billy can’t help but puff his chest out at the evaluation- maybe Steve even rakes his eyes up and down Billy.

But Steve looks away quickly. Billy tries not to deflate.

“Are you still coming by for dinner?” Steve asks, looking at the coach. Billy scoffs. Steve glares.

“Oh, yes, sorry Steve. I hope I’m not keeping your parents waiting-”

“Nah, if I know my mom she’s still mixing drinks and… making hors d'oeuvres or something.”

 The fuck is an “or derve”?

The coach and Steve laugh. Steve’s laugh is too damn pretty. Billy thinks about ways he can wrap his hands around a laugh.

“I just came by to ask if you still need help getting to my house.”

“Oh yes, if you could. I’ve been there so many times, you’d think I’d have the trip down by now.”

“Eh, it’s a little out of the way.” Steve shrugs, popping out his hip, hands in his pockets. His nonchalance is liable to drive Billy to murder. “I just uh… I’ve got somewhere to be tonight and I’ve kind of gotta… get ready for that. But no rush-”

“Ohhh… a nice date tonight?”

 Get ready, huh?

Steve rubs the back of his neck, smile sheepish. He’s just so polite.

“Eh it’s… it’ll be something.”

“Alright well then let’s-”

Billy clears his throat as loudly as possible.

“Oh! Sorry Billy uh... “ The coach heaves another sigh, like Billy couldn’t be any more of a burden. Billy fucking hates that sound. “Look. I’ve made a lot of exceptions already, but you seem committed to wanting to be on this team and lord knows we could use the commitment here. So… I’m taking your word for it just this once. Practice is right here every weekday right after school except for Mondays, alright?”

“Got it.”

“If I decide at practice that you’re not up to snuff, don’t throw a fit with me.”

“That won’t happen.”

Billy doesn’t specify which one he means. The coach seems to notice.

“I mean it.”

The coach points a thick, red finger in Billy’s face, his own very serious. And with that, he’s turning back towards Steve and leaving the gym. Steve is still standing there, backlit by the sun, leaning against the door and only shifting to let the coach leave first.

He peels his eyes away from Billy, looking impossibly and offensively disinterested.

And fuck Steve Harrington.

That’s the consensus that Billy’s brain has come to as he climbs into his bed that night, the nippy chill of the late October Indiana air seeping in through his drafty windows. It hasn’t even been 24 hours to come to this; it seems as though everything in this town can be ruined in a matter of 24 hours or less.

He’s fitful as he sleeps, as always. And as always, his sleep is mostly blank images and stressful feelings. However, every now and then, in between the anxious dark, he sees a sort of prettiness he wishes he could get his hands on and wring out- violently.

~~~~*~~~~

In his 16 years of public schooling, there’s one important lesson Billy has learned: being popular isn’t as important as being intimidating.

He could be the most friendless, insignificant sap on campus- in fact, Billy’s starting to think he would have preferred that option -but being feared is the only status of any worth. Being feared means no one talking shit about him. Being feared means everyone bending over backwards to get on his good side. Being feared means no trying to shove him around or trying to pick a fight because they know he’ll dish it out just as good as he can take it.

Back at home, Billy got into fights outside of school. Plenty of them. Enough to have all the students know he wasn’t one to be messed with. More than a few bruised faces and black eyes told everyone to never dare accuse him of empty threats. But here, in Bumfuck, Indiana with only the cows and their shit for company, no one knows a single thing about him. He’s just the latest newcomer who happened to ride in on a glittery California wave.

He figures this blank slate has given him a few options: hope someone starts a shitty rumor about him, start that rumor himself, or get in a fight.

He’d rather anything but that last one. No part of him wants to expel more energy than is absolutely necessary in this place. Everything’s easier when you let others do the work for you.

And for as angry as he’s been these last couple of days, he’s tired most of all. Tired from new homes and new time zones and new schools and new roads and new people and the same old expectations he’s always had to deal with… he’s just tired. There’s too much figuring out to be done. For as boring as this shitty town is, nothing’s normal here. He doesn’t want to have to do so much to exist comfortably. And he certainly doesn’t want to have to waste the energy on beating someone’s face in if he doesn’t need to.

He wants all of the benefits with none of the work. If he can get through this by staying low and having everyone assume more of him than he’s willing to give, things will be good.

He just has to get through it. And getting through it tends to be the hardest part.

He hears talk. Lots of it. None of it is quite what he wants yet. It’s only been a day, but every second counts when it comes to reputation, especially when that reputation is riding on a rumor. By the end of next week the momentum will die down and he knows he can’t wait that long. So he listens intently to the talk around him- mentions of “rockstars” and “roads paved gold” and “is that a scar?” and that’s what catches Billy’s ear the most. There’s hope filling in him that maybe he’ll get exactly what he wants.

“He doesn’t deserve an exception. He just moved here.”

The voice is coming around the corner from where Billy is shoving useless books into his locker. It almost sounds familiar, but in a way that grates at Billy’s ears.

“I don’t know, man.” A far less familiar voice responds.

“He’s cocky.” It’s spat out with disgust. The boys can’t see Billy if he can’t see them, but he knows the words are about him. He can feel it tugging in him. “Why does he think he gets special treatment?”

“You get special treatment, too.”

“What? No I don’t.” The familiar voice is a petulant little whine now.

“The coach visits your house all the time.” And that’s what seals it.

This guy is talking to Harrington.

“... okay but that’s different though.”

That’s Steve Harrington. With his self-entitled confidence and his irritated whine. He’s not getting what he wants and he’s pissed about it. Or maybe it’s more than that. Billy is clutching his last book with white knuckles, wondering why his being on the team means anything to this rich little prick.

“You weren’t even here for tryouts, were you?” It’s the other guy. Billy’s seeing red. “You were still on vacation, but Coach let you on the team anyway.”

He can hear Harrington stutter, grasping for straws on how to defend himself.

“Yeah but... But that’s just different c’mon man, you know that. Coach knows me, he doesn’t know this… asshole.”

“He might be good for the team.”

“Who cares? He’s a pain in my ass.”

Billy doesn’t realize how hard he slams his locker until he rounds the corner and sees wide eyes and open mouths. He realizes he doesn’t care far quicker, though. His fists are clenched hard, knuckles cracking. People are whispering. He can’t hear their words. He’s staring down this stupid boy with his pretty face and wants so badly to see it ruined. Wants so badly to take one of the many things this self-centered prick gets to have as his own. Wants to ruin what he has- wants to rid him of even half of that privilege.

Harrington’s face is shocked, but it washes away into dismissiveness. He raises his nose up.

“He’s just a worthless poser. He doesn’t belong on the team.”

Billy seethes.

But Harrington doesn’t see it, because he’s turned around and walked away. The other guy is still standing there, gaping, before he walks away too, but Billy barely realizes. He’s got laser focused vision on Harrington. Billy’s fists flex.

He wants to do something. He wants to hurt him. He wants to chase him down the hall and get his hands into him. Feel his flesh under him. Feel him writhe under him.

He wants him gasping for air and pleading.

His chest fills with bile just at the thought… the thought of wanting…

Billy turns and walks the other way.

He doesn’t know why he does it. He still sees Harrington’s face in his mind, dismissive and uninterested, and then it all morphs into just shapes… and there’s more energy coursing through him now than there has been since he first stepped foot on the soft and muddy Indiana soil- and it’s poisonous. It’s the sort of energy that wrecks through his body, making his limbs shake and his heart race until he’s finally got his hands on something. It’s the sort of energy that makes him feel sick when he thinks back on it afterwards… that makes him feel like a familiar monster. The sort of thoughts that make his heart race with anxiety alongside the adrenaline. There’s just a scary kind of freedom in roughing someone up- he’s big and he’s strong enough. He’s worked hard for it. There’s control in taking it into his own hands. It feels like all he can do sometimes. All he needs is to get a good grab. He can get anything within reach. He just needs a reason.

“Hey, Hollywood… what’s with the red face? Can’t handle a little Indiana sun-”

There’s a reason.

He doesn’t register anything until he’s in the front office, being sternly spoken to by the vice principal. He gathers from the conversation that he gave the guy a bruised stomach and he “should be lucky it only got that far” because “from what I’ve heard, you’ve got a new coach. And he doesn’t take kindly to this kind of behavior.”

Billy doesn’t even think about it until later that night, when he’s getting ready for Tina’s stupid party and hears those afternoon words repeat through his mind. Words questioning his worth, questioning his character, threatening to take away something he just barely got… all because he got angry. All because he couldn’t handle himself. All because he’s a mirror. He’s just a reflection of all the worst things he sees...

No, it happened because of Harrington. Because of Harrington most of all. Yeah. Because Harrington couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut or his shitty opinions to himself. Because Harrington has a face too pretty for his own good.

 Fuck Steve Harrington.

~~~*~~~

Billy likes it loud.

Everything. Everything loud.  Loud music, loud sex, and certainly loud parties. Loud parties bring a comfort that quiet ones could never hope to grasp. Billy can’t be around this many people without his body vibrating from constant energy. Without his eardrums shaking from the wailing music.

There’s no thoughts to be had while inverted and chugging watery beer out of a dirty, spit soaked keg. He gets a high off of the overstimulation, his body rushing itself over with adrenaline. Then he kicks his foot, and the guys at his ankles let him down, and his ears are buzzy enough to drown out the cheering he can see is taking place in his honor. His heart is thumping heavily. The cheers get louder as his blood settles back into its regular flow. He can feel large hands patting and pawing his shoulders and back.

He cheers along with them, vibrating with the words he’s saying even though they’re gibberish to his ears. There’s no need to be coherent as he shouts, wandering back into the house and cutting through the crowd of people as he puffs his cigarette. He feels a hand- must be Tommy’s -lingering on his back and shoulder. Hit him there. Stay there. Lingering lingering. He’s too out of his mind, too out of place to care too much.

Being drunk makes it easier to stay at this lame party. Most of it is blurry to him, what with his stuttering movement and the way his eyes have started to water after being upside down for so long. He’s fixated on streamers hanging from the ceiling, figuring they must actually be toilet paper now that he’s got his hands on them, pulling them absent-mindedly from the ceiling like a cat with yarn. He’s dizzy with everything, suddenly aching for something for his mouth to do, thinking of going for his cigarette again or even tonguing at the paper when-

 Fuck.

He keeps a good grip on the toilet paper, hardly realizing that he’s bringing it with him as his focus is completely honed in on a figure leaning up against the nearest wall. He pushes past writhing bodies, vaguely hearing the music as it shouts over all of them. There’s only one person Billy cares about right now- maybe only one person he’s cared about all week.

He doesn’t have words and doesn’t feel he needs them. Tommy’s scratchy voice says all he needs him to.

“We’ve got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington.”

Billy stares Steve Harrington down with fervor, but he can only see himself in the reflection of Harrinton’s glasses. He’s blurry even to himself, and it leaves him angry.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Is the voice of another guy Billy never bothered to remember the name of. “Yeah, eat it, Harrington!”

Harrington takes his glasses off then, face looking every bit as serious as Billy feels. They just stare as time vibrates around them. Or maybe it’s just Billy. Billy still has no words in his throat, and especially not with Steve’s eyes on his. Billy thinks, briefly and loosely, about how he still wishes he had something to do with his mouth right now.

And then it’s just as always- as if Billy couldn’t be more boring if he tried -because Steve looks away with disinterest. He shifts his focus over to Tommy and his lips curl into something that straddles the line of a smile and a sneer.

“Harrington, huh? Whatever happened to Stevie?” He asks it in a way that makes Billy’s blood run hot in a way that isn’t just anger. It gets Tommy shifting nervously. Harrington’s smirk just grows wider.

His eyes flick back over to Billy for a quick second, before leaning in and speaking seriously to Tommy: “You can tell your new King I hope he enjoys all my sloppy seconds.”

Tommy’s face burns a bright red but Billy can’t see that because he can’t look away from Steve. He’s a whirlwind of everything violent and intoxicated and overwhelmed and far too strong. He sneers, ready to lunge but his body won’t let him. His feet are planted.

“Happy Halloween!” Harrington chirps, looking far too happy and far too satisfied and far too bright in his all-black outfit as he walks away. And Billy wants to lunge at him. Wants to spit out all of his hatred. Wants to blame his whole life on this one guy as he saunters away.

But Tommy stalks away with a dark mutter. And then there’s a crowd sweeping Billy up and leading him back over to the dance floor.

And it’s times like these Billy is glad it’s loud, because he doesn’t need to speak to anyone. But it’s times like these where Billy hates it loud, too, because loud means people. Lots of people. People touching him and writhing against him and sweating on him. His stomach starts to churn with the way everyone is undulating around him.

He shoves his way towards the window, seeing most people have migrated either inside or out back, now that the keg seems to be empty. There’s a few stragglers still coming in fashionably late, lots of cars parked outside, but there’s a small patch of dried grass over to the side that’s completely vacant. It looks like a haven right about now. He pushes through the crowd until they part like the red sea for him, giving him the chance to stumble outside and lay out on the grass.

When he gets there and flops himself down, he laments how rough and scratchy it feels. He silently cusses out Tina and her folks, figuring there’s no way it can be drier here than it is back where he’s from, down near the border where they're in a drought most of the year and the heat dries up the plants. Figures they must just be cheap. Can’t even take care of their own lawn.

And Billy wonders who he’s kidding. His old man is the same damn way.

He lays back, head feeling woozy from leaving the heat of all those bodies and heading straight into the crisp fall air. While the grass is harsh and offensive against him, he’s still grateful for the stability now pressed against his back. For a second, quick and warm, he feels fully safe.

And if there’s anything to be said for Hawkins- for all of Indiana and the piece of shit Billy still firmly believes it to be -it’s the night sky. It’s every star above Billy that’s winking back at him crystal clear. It’s the hundreds of them… hell maybe thousands of them that are in view right now on the crunchy grass next to Tina’s house.

San Diego was vastly different. Even in the small towns bordering it, the stars could never be this abundant and bright. Only when Billy and his friends dared each other to paddle out into the ocean on their surfboards late at night could they see anywhere near this many stars. Only on the farthest and most secluded corners of the beaches, or the very tip of the more vacant piers.

There’s some comfort and some pain when Billy thinks about how these are the same stars that can be found in San Diego. Roughly. Right? It’s certainly the same Fall moon. It’s a different breeze hitting him right now, chilling him down to his bones and making him wish he was on that surfboard. Wishing he and his friends were talking about something stupid and childish. Wishing the harsh ground beneath him was rocking like a rolling wave.

Billy’s always hated wishes. Despised them. He never gets anything he wishes for. They’re not worth the breath.

Still somehow his brain never quite gets the memo.

He’s dizzy with booze and people and wishes. He’s staring at the stars, watching them twinkle, wondering how the real search out here in the boondocks is for a plane in the sky rather than a celestial body, and he wishes for things. He wishes for pretty things. Wishes for things he can get his hands on. Wishes for ease. Wishes for salty breezes. Wishes for seagulls. Wishes for seashells. Wishes for and wishes for and wishes for-

He hears the door open and slam- heavier now than it has been as people wander into the party late. He sits up quickly, immediately feeling that keg he chugged earlier and that joint he hit before getting here and those beers he had in the car ride over and-

Someone is trudging down the walkway, smacking bushes angrily as they go. Billy watches with unfocused eyes, noticing first the dark outfit and then the coiffed hair.

“Harrington!” Billy shouts after him, heart pumping quickly, watching as the boy doesn’t slow even for a second. He heaves himself off the ground, head feeling heavy, wondering if his eyes are deceiving him or not. “Harrington, you…”

The boy’s steps falter. He shifts his attention, just a little, in Billy’s direction and there he is. That pretty face. Billy hates the way Harrington shifts his attention away so quickly, just like always. As if Billy couldn’t be any more worthless if he tried. As if Harrington himself is the one deciding factor of something like that.

So Billy starts to walk after him, his own steps lazy versus Harrington’s urgent pace.

“How’s it feel? Huh?” Billy’s mouth feels like mush, so he yells louder to compensate. “Being such a loser? Losing everything you had?”

He watches as the moon illuminates the bit of Harrington’s pale neck exposed to the air. He wants his nails in this boy’s skin. He wants to dig into him and under him in every way. He wants a lot of things he can’t stand to put into words.

Harrington still isn’t looking. His stride still isn’t breaking. Billy is pissed, tries to walk a little faster, tries to yell a little louder.

“Must really suck doesn’t it, champ? Hm? Knowing you don’t mean anything to anyone anymore.”

If Billy isn’t mistaken, Harrington starts to walk faster. It feels kind of good and kind of sick to see him react. So he keeps yelling after him.

“Knowing you’re nothing to them now, eh hot shot?”

Harrington’s steps get heavier. Billy feels a cackle rising up through his throat.

“Knowing you lost it all-”

“God, no one gives a shit about you!” Comes a voice that startles Billy, knowing it’s not his own, but rather Harrington’s. He’s damn near screeching as he spins around quickly. His face is bright red, even in the dim light of the night, and his expression is folded into rage. “Not a single shit!”

Billy nearly falls as he stumbles back, suddenly being faced with a shift in momentum. He cements his feet to the grass as best he can, staring down Harrington and his dark eyes. His mouth falls open in his shock.

“They?” Harrington continues, gesturing wildly to the house behind them. “Aren’t worth anything. They’re gonna forget you in a month, tops. And then what do you have? Huh?”

Billy blinks, bewildered and suddenly boiling, Because how dare he… how dare he-

“Who cares what you have to say! You mean nothing! Just get the fuck away from me.”

And then Steve turns back around, stomping down the street, probably to find his car. And Billy watches after him, stumbles backwards a bit, clenches his fists tightly. The words stick to the cold air like a tongue to a frozen pole, rushing around Billy’s head in heavy, dark promises. In harsh and brittle words of truth.

 No one gives a shit…

His knuckles crack again with how hard he’s clenching them, and he moves to go after him with his fists- but he fumbles. His head is spinning with harsh truths now too. Everything feels wrong and sour. He tries to chase after him, go get his hands on him, to make him pay- but he just stumbles forward like he’s a deer with newfound legs.

And Billy wishes. Billy wishes with all his might to get his hands on something tangible and breakable and fragile.

He can’t help it… he watches Steve pull away and down the road, driving faster than Billy’s heart is beating. Billy feels wreckage inside of him.

He turns back to the party to shove his way through the crowd, to grab another drink, and to get the hell out of here.

#Billy Hargrove #Steve harrington #Steve Harrington still being an asshole supremacy rise up #i say as if I have not been a part of the problem #fic #yearning #angst #stranger things #tommy hagan #carol perkins #i had a sort of a revelation recently about Billy and how I feel about him #and how I feel about a lot of plots with characters who seem violent but broken #you know that scene in Punch-Drunk Love where he says he wants to bash her face in and she says she wants to rip his eyes out and suck on #them??? yeah.... yeah I just think Steve and Billy would turn into that #i think Billy disassociates and wishes to do violence bc sometimes I disassociate and wish to do violence and even tho I don't do violence #I do understand #y'know?? does this make sense?? #you feel so much you are so overwhelmed all you can think to do is *squeeze* and squash and hurt and cry #and rip and shred and tear??? #yeah..... yeah.............

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m staying (8)

The world at your feet

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and an inappropriate conversation in the first scene :D. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 3,500

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, during Michael’s last night at the cabin, starting with Drake’s POV.

*****

Drake comes out of Sav’s old bedroom, his arms full of party games. She had always loved entertaining the young ladies of court at the cabin, however mean they were to her. Sav never lost hope that she would, one day, fit in. Only Maxwell was loyal to her. Drake shakes the idea off. Soon, he thinks, he can reconnect and, hopefully, make amends for not being there enough.

‘Table topics!!’ Maxwell exclaims.

Drake smiles. ‘Yup. Remember?’

Liv sighs as she pours herself another glass of wine. ‘As if you needed inspiration on weird topics, Beaumont!’

Maxwell laughs. ‘You may be right but it’s a fun game! Come on guys, grab some more dessert and let’s GO!’

Drake steals a kiss from Amara on his way to grab another slice of the apricot cake she and Hana made. Dinner was a success and they were now on to the second part of the mini Bash, with games, music, and booze.

Not that the whole evening wasn’t filled with booze. Drake can barely stand without swaying around like he’s on a boat. Weird how treacherous margaritas are.

‘You ok babe?’ Amara asks, her words slightly slurred.

Drake puts his hand on her hip and brings her closer. ‘Better than ever.’ He gives her another kiss, deeper this time. ‘Well, maybe I’m drunk.’

Amara giggles. ‘Yeah, so am I.’

‘Guys, gather around!’ Maxwell yells out as he stumbles down on a cushion. ‘Bertrand, get some more wine, you filthy animal!’

‘Okay, okay,’ Bertrand concedes. ‘It IS delicious wine, Olivia. Thank you for bringing it.’

Olivia bows. ‘Of course. Anything to get you drunk, Beaumont.’

Bertrand blushes. ‘Oh well. It doesn’t take much,’ he chuckles.

They all gather around the coffee table, and Hana draws the first card. She immediately giggles. ‘Oh, that one’s intense!’ She clears her throat. ‘Describe the worst sex you’ve ever had.’

‘Wow,’ Drake chuckles. ‘Not pulling any punches, huh?’

Maxwell raises his almost empty glass. ‘I’ll start! It was my first time. It was horrible. I got confused, and I forgot how close I was to the edge of the bed. I fell down and hurt my chin on my belt buckle. I had a bruise for days!’

Bertrand shudders. ‘Good lord, Maxwell, that’s where that bruise was coming from? I’d rather not know!’ He downs his entire glass of wine at once, which Olivia quickly refills, an evil smirk on her face.

She asks, ‘So, I take it you want to pass your turn, Beaumont?’

Bertrand grimaces. ‘If it’s alright, yes.’

Olivia shrugs. ‘Yeah, it’s your one pass. I’ll go next. My worst fuck was this guy I met at the derby 2 years ago. The Croatian, remember, Walker?’

Drake frowns. ‘Oh yeah. He worked for the Ambassador?’

Liv nods. ‘Well, he didn’t work for me. He cried as he orgasmed and said ‘I love you’ through his tears.’ She takes a sip of her wine. ‘Weak bastard.’

Amara makes a disgusted face. ‘Yikes. Um, my turn, I guess. The worst sex I’ve ever had is when I studied abroad in Québec, and this hot guy I met at a party turned out to have a lot of trouble getting a boner. He may have been drunk, but it was still very pathetic and sad for me.’

Drake strokes Amara’s hair and says ‘What a loser, who wouldn’t have a boner for you?’

Michael snorts, ‘Um, brother in the room, thank you very much. I’m with you on that one, Bertrand, I think I’ll pass.’ He downs his margarita. ‘Im traumatized.’

Drake’s eyes widen. ‘Did I say that out loud?’

Amara nods. ‘Yes. And thank you.’

Maxwell wipes a tear from laughter. ‘You guys, this is so much fun! Drake, your turn, then you draw!’

Drake nods seriously, as he tries to focus his eyes on a static point. ‘Um, for me, it was that Italian woman I had met, and she kept calling me Daddy, and trying to get me to spank her. Which, coupled with the ‘Daddy’ thing, well…’ he laughs. ‘It’s pretty fucked up.’

Maxwell shrugs. ‘At least you don’t lose your boners like Amara’s Canadian. Ha!’

Michael shakes his head. ‘Too soon, Maxwell. Too soon.’

Drake laughs and draws a card. ‘Alright, here we go. What’s your biggest regret?’

Olivia snorts. ‘Deep. Alright, I’ll go. My biggest regret is to have been hung up on Liam for too long.’

They all cheer. ‘Amen, sister,’ Amara yells. ‘For me, I don’t want to spoil the mood, so I’ll just say that I regret not talking to Michael for so long.’ She holds out her hand, which Michael lovingly takes. ‘Also to have spoken about the Canadian’s soft penis in front of him.’

Michael takes his hand back abruptly and bursts out laughing. ‘You little bitch,’ he giggles. ‘Alright, same for me—to have withdrawn from people who love me, such as my lovely sister here, and also I regret my skater phase in high school.’

Maxwell’s eyes widen. ‘You were a sk8er boi??’ He gasps as Michael nods cheekily. ‘Michael, my biggest regret is not to have seen any pictures of little skater you...yet!’

Hana raises her hand, all giggly from too many margaritas. ‘My biggest regret is not coming out to my parents.’

‘Yet!’ Michael adds, as he squeezes Hana’s arm gently.

Hana smiles. ‘You’re right! I will do it one day. Soon.’

Amara nods enthusiastically. ‘Yes you will! You’re a strong woman who knows who she is, and if they can’t see that, well… they better take time to reflect upon themselves.’ She frowns decidedly.

Drake chuckles. ‘Yeah, babe, that wasn’t harsh enough. What Amara means is… if they can’t accept you for who you are, fuck them, Hana!’

‘Yeah!’ Hana chimes in, as she frowns adorably. ‘Ok, your turn, Bertrand!’

Bertrand sighs heavily, his eyes glued to the Walker family portrait on the wall. ‘Oh guys,’ he says longingly, ‘I have so many regrets. The one I can’t stop thinking of is—‘ Olivia sneakily refills his wine glass as Amara shoots her daggers— ‘thank you, Olivia,’ he adds, ‘what I can’t seem to stop thinking of, every day almost… is not telling Savannah how I felt. Letting her go, without a proper declaration of love.’ He sighs and takes a big gulp of his wine.

Drake feels as though he sobered up at least 3 drinks. He and Maxwell make eye contact, and he notices that Max looks equally sad. ‘Hey man,’ Drake says comfortingly, ‘it’s not too late. It’s never too late to tell someone how you feel.’

Maxwell nods and puts a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm. ‘Yeah, he’s right, you never know what the future holds.’

Bertrand shakes his head. ‘I don’t know, guys. She has been gone two years. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.’

A silence weighs on the room. Drake looks at Amara, who is biting her lip and looks like she’s about to say something. Drake tries to shake his head at her discreetly, but she takes a big breath and blurts out, ‘I found her.’

*****

Amara can’t believe she said this. She certainly didn’t plan on it. Can she blame the margaritas, if she’s the one who made the margaritas? She’s gonna go with yes.

All eyes are on her, especially Drake’s, who are pleading her to stop talking. But she has to fix this, right?

She looks at Bertrand, who looks utterly destroyed by the news. She opens her mouth again. ‘I know how sad Drake has been because of his sister’s disappearance, and I wanted to make sure she was ok. We had very little leads, just an email address she had given her mom, and a bank account—‘ she stops in her tracks. She can’t betray Maxwell. She takes another deep breath. ‘That she had also given Bianca, and I found her. We’re gonna try to establish contact.’

Amara feels Drake relaxing next to her. She looks into his eyes, and he gives her a relieved smile. Phew, she thinks. She didn’t blow it all.

Bertrand gasps for air. ‘Oh wow. That is very impressive of you, Amara. You must be a wonderful detective. Um, Olivia, can I have some more wine?’

Olivia hurries to the bottle and empties it in Bertrand’s glass. ‘Of course,’ she says, in shock.

Bertrand takes a gulp and says, ‘Thank you for telling me. I hope that, when you do find her in person, she agrees to talk to me.’ He pauses. ‘In fact—no.’

‘No no, go ahead,’ Drake says.

Bertrand sighs. ‘Do you think you could give me that email address you were speaking of?’

Drake pauses for a second, looks at both Amara and Maxwell, and finally says, ‘Of course. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.’

Bertrand nods, determined. ‘Thank you. I have something in my drafts that is aching to be sent.’

*****

Table Topics died down with that second card—way too loaded, but also necessary, as Drake is starting to think. ‘Hey guys, let’s finish those chocolates, ok?’ He yells out on his way to the kitchen to refill his cocktail.

As he pours himself another delicious margarita, he feels Amara’s hand squeezing his arm. She makes her way into his arms and pulls him closer. ‘Oh my God I’m sorry, babe,’ she whispers, her eyes digging deep into his. ‘I have no idea why I blurted it out. I shouldn’t have.’ She bites her lip.

Drake’s heart melts. ‘I know why you did.’ He strokes her face gently. ‘Bertrand looked miserable and we have been withholding crucial info from him.’ He smiles as he cups her face. ‘I’m glad you told him. I’m also glad you kept quiet about the—‘ his voice grows quieter— ‘the baby. We want to talk to Sav before involving him.’

Amara lets out a sigh of relief. ‘I was so scared you’d be mad at me. I promise you it just came out….the poor schmuck was laying his heart on the table, like ‘she’s my biggest regret and now she’s gone forever,’ when we all know she’s not, and—‘

Drake squeezes her hand. ‘I know. My heart broke for him, too. Believe me, I get it.’ He hands Amara the margarita pitcher. ‘Here, have another drink. This sobered us up way too quickly.’

She chuckles and obliges. ‘You got that right.’

Drake smiles softly as he looks at Amara try not to spill her margarita. He would never think that love would soften him this much. When he looks at her, his heart turns into a gooey substance that alters all his senses and decisions. It’s frightening, yes. But it brought so much joy into his life, too.

‘What?’ Amara asks, amused.

He shrugs. ‘Nothing. Just thinking. If Bertrand really does email Sav, maybe it will convince her to come back. More than I ever could.’

*****

Liam pours himself another vodka. He’s never been one for hard liquor—much more of a white wine drinker—, but desperate times call for desperate measures. After spending the afternoon drafting a treaty with Greece, he had to go have dinner with his father, who had been in worse shape than ever. Liam shudders as he thinks back on his father’s weak movements, and slower speech.

He knows that Constantine is not one to admit weakness. He’s the King, after all. But if there ever was a time…

He shakes it off. He’ll think about all this after the Engagement Tour. Constantine is surrounded with the best doctors in Europe, there is no reason to worry as of yet. Right?

Liam found the perfect excuse to escape from Madeleine tonight. He has to work late on that treaty, and needs to get up early. So, unfortunately, no sleepover, darling, you will be better off in your own room. Madeleine had pouted and acted like she was disappointed, but he could tell that even she was relieved that tonight was providing her with an out. An out from this forced charade they called an engagement. Maybe, just maybe, if he could just convince her from sheer boredom and lack of chemistry, to just...let go, maybe everything could go back to normal.

But he’ll have to take the crown soon. There’s no out for that.

He sighs and downs his vodka. He pours another. In front of him, the business card he was handed a few weeks back. Should he…?

No. It’s almost eleven. It wouldn’t be proper.

She did say that he could write whenever… He takes a deep breath and starts typing furiously on his phone.

This is Liam. May I take you up on your offer?

He puts the phone down, and grabs his glass again. As soon as he takes a sip, his phone vibrates.

Of course. Is everything ok?

He lets out a sigh of relief as he starts typing again.

Just a hard night. Hope all is well with you. Would you be free for a drink? Unless it’s too late.

His heart races. It’s been a while since he’s made a new friend. Someone who really listens to him, and whose presence calms him down.

Sure. I just need to finish a brief. How about the Orchard Way Tavern in half an hour?

Liam types a quick response and speed dials Bastien. ‘Bastien, are you available to drive me downtown?’

‘Sure thing, Your Majesty, but I can call Thierry—‘

‘No need. Please pick me up in 15.’

*****

You were workin' as a waitress in a cocktail bar

When I met you

I picked you out, I shook you up and turned you around

Turned you into someone new

Now five years later on, you've got the world at your feet

Success has been so easy for you

But don't forget, it's me who put you where you are now

And I can put you back down too

Don’t—Don’t you want me

Drake drunkenly looks on as Maxwell and Amara duet on Don’t You Want Me. They’re having the time of their lives, who needs a karaoke machine when you can just sing as loudly as you can over the actual singers?

Michael comes to sit next to him on the floor, and smiles at him. ‘This is awesome, Drake,’ he slurs. ‘I’m having such a good time. Thank you.’

Drake smiles back and clinks his drink to Michael’s. ‘You’re welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you here, Mike.’

Michael grows pensive, and Drake appreciate how much of a quiet drunk he is, compared to the others. ‘You know, I’m gonna have a hard time leaving tomorrow.’

Drake nods. ‘I don’t blame you. Wish you could stay longer and come on the tour. I would appreciate the company, and so would these two,’ he gestures at Maxwell and Amara.

Michael chuckles. ‘Yeah. Well, maybe it’ll be good for everyone to…’ he makes a calming gesture with his arms, ‘take some time. You know.’ He sighs. ‘Dammit. Is it that obvious?’

Drake shrugs, amused. ‘I didn’t say anything, man.’

Michael shakes his head. ‘You didn’t need to.’ He takes a sip of his wine. ‘I just don’t know what happened to me in the past few days. I feel… different. Calmer. More serene.’

Drake nods. ‘Yeah. Like you’ve made peace with some shit, right?’

Michael nudges Drake with his elbow. ‘Exactly. That’s exactly right. I’ve made peace with some shit. Some really deep shit.’ He chuckles. ‘Look at her.’

Drake looks at Amara. ‘Oh, I am. She’s a sight to behold.’

Michael nudges him again. ‘You love her. I love that. She’s so loveable, man, it’s unreal.’ He pauses. ‘You know, when I look at my kid, who’s the spitting image of Sergio, it doesn’t hurt. I love it, because he lives on. But for a long time, when I looked at Amara, it did hurt. A lot. Because not only is she basically the female version of her brother, but these two were so close. So fucking close.’ He shakes his head. ‘They were like twins, if twins could be six years apart, you know. This one over there, she’s an old soul. When I met her, she was a little eighteen-year-old, but she didn’t take shit from anybody, and she was already introspective, and observant, and good with people—all of it.’

Drake smiles. ‘That’s my Amara.’

Michael holds his hand to his heart. ‘Ugh, stop it, you guys are so cute.’ He takes another sip. ‘My point is, she’s such a complex and precious little soul. Always has been. And Sergio always told me how strong she is, but also, sensitive at the same time, because she loves so wholly, you know. She gives her all. Well, when we lost him—when this all happened, two years ago, and she withdrew into her own shell, it hurt so fucking much, because I knew, I just knew that it would have killed him even more, to see her like that.’ He pauses and bites his lip. ‘Nope,’ he adds, ‘I’m not gonna fucking cry on my last night.’

Drake puts his hand on Michael’s knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze. ‘It’s ok, man. I get it. She is getting better, now, and you can let go a little bit.’ He smiles. ‘She will be ok.’

Michael nods. ‘Because of you. Because of you, and Max, and Hana, and Olivia, and Bertrand… because she found people to love again.’

Drake has to make a conscious effort in order not to tear up as well. ‘Mike, I’m glad you’re here. And please tell me we can see you in New York when we go there after the bullshit Ball we have to attend.’

Michael nods furiously. ‘I’d love nothing more.’

*****

Liam fidgets with his glass of water as he waits. She insisted on getting the second round, not that he needed to drink more, but when the company is this nice, what can you say.

‘Here you go,’ she says as she puts his glass of wine in front of him. ‘Cheers!’

He clinks his glass to her martini. ‘Thank you, Ioanna, and cheers to you.’

‘So,’ she says as she sets her glass safely on the table. ‘You were saying that you’re totally into Amara Suarez, even though she has never given you any indication that she likes you romantically?’

Liam arches an eyebrow. ‘Did—did I say that?’

Ioanna chuckles. ‘Not in so many words, but that’s what I understood.’

He holds his hand to his chest, feigning being shot in the heart. ‘Ouch, that was harsh, Ms. Papadakis!’

She shrugs playfully, as she tugs a brown curl behind her ear. ‘Hey, you said you like honesty. I’m just trying to have your back.’

Liam takes a sip. ‘You have a point. Come to think of it, I may never have known what honesty is.’ He pauses. ‘You know everyone wants to kiss the prince’s ass.’

Ioanna snorts. ‘Classy, Your Majesty.’

He laughs. ‘You know what I mean. The only person who’s ever been honest with me—I think—is my best friend. And maybe Amara, well, I hope.’

Ioanna drinks quietly.

Liam smiles, ‘And, clearly, now, you.’

She nods, pleased with his response. ‘Well, you said it yourself. She was honest with you, she told you she doesn’t want anything romantic with you. Why do you choose not to believe her?’

He pauses, taken aback. ‘Um. Maybe because she barely knows me, and I’m still hoping that—‘

‘Forgive me for being straightforward,’ she interrupts, ‘but maybe it could be because you’ve always gotten what you want?’

He opens his mouth to protest. Gotten what he wants? Really? As he is forced to take the crown, as his father is dying, as his mother is dead and buried? He closes his mouth.

‘Liam,’ she adds, ‘I’m not saying you’ve never been through anything. I’m not. But you said it yourself, everyone is kissing your ass, so maybe you can’t recognize it when people are actually...not?’

Damn, he thinks, is she reading his mind? ‘Well, you got me there,’ he says, defeated.

Ioanna shrugs in victory as she takes another sip of her martini. ‘And don’t get me started on your plan to unveil your fiancée’s evil nature during the Engagement Tour,’ she adds. ‘This plan has more holes than gruyère cheese. With all due respect, everyone knows she’s not a very good person, and no one cares.’ Her eyes dig into his, deeply. ‘The only person who can break your engagement is you.’

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @andy-loves-corgis , @jovialyouthmusic , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983​ , @simsvetements , @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love , @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @drxkewalker @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @axwalker @msjpuddleduck @kimmiedoo5 @furryperfectionlover @princessleac1 @katedrakeohd

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#drake walker x amara suarez #dramara #that's not why i'm staying #drake walker x mc #drake walker #trr fanfic #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara

[messrprcngs]

* I STILL LOVE YOU .

SUMMARY : daphne greengrass broke up with you two months ago because she’d stopped loving you; at least that’s what she told you. she still wants to be friends with you, which you’re having a bit of trouble dealing with, because you’re still in love with her golden trio era PAIRING : daphne greengrass x reader ( i meant to write this as a female reader because BISEXUAL DAPHNE but then it came out as gender neutral so that’s cool !! because it means y’all can read it however you want ! ) WARNINGS : at this point angst is a given with any writing i do hdnsknd. uh alcohol consumption by technically underage parties. not really a warning, but you can read this as the reader being bi or pan bc of One scene but ? you could just be making out with a guy on a whim if that makes you uncomfy. WORD COUNT : 2385 A/N : yes, this was the angst i promised y’all. i’m working on venusenthium part three, don’t worry. i was just feeling a lot of feels and this is how i’m dealing with those feelings. it’s not as good as i could have made it ( also, the title needs work ), in all honesty, but i like it, so hopefully you do, too

"y/n, love, i . . . i think we should break up. i'm so, so sorry, i just . . . i don't like you like that anymore."

that was how daphne greengrass had broken up with you.

the rest of the interaction with your now ex-girlfriend went a little something like this :

you hadn't known how to react at first. you'd needed some time to let what daphne had said sink in. when it finally did, your hands began shaking where they sat on the library table.

"you - you what ?"

"you heard me," daphne said as she glanced away from you, and though words like those weren't typically nice when coming from daphne's mouth, this was different. her voice was soft, and you could hear - you could hear the pity in it. the sound of it made your stomach and your heart drop down into your feet. "i want to break up, y/n. i'm sorry, but i think it's best. i don't want to keep leading you on like this."

that's when you'd felt the tears coming. you blinked them away as best you could.

you'd been expecting it, honestly. expecting the day daphne would break up with you. the signs had been there : she'd been ignoring you lately, not replying to the little notes you'd leave in her textbooks and leaving rooms abnormally fast when you entered them. she'd kept making excuses about having to help astoria with studying, needing to finish up her own homework, and stuff like that. she wouldn't always reply when you told her you loved her, but would instead shoot you a small, soft smile.

you'd been expecting it; you just hadn't been expecting it so soon. and there wasn't much left to do besides accept it.

"all right," you whispered, and you hated the way your voice cracked. your throat felt sore and raw, as if you'd already been crying for hours. "i understand, daph."

daphne had looked surprised at that. "you what ?" she said, incredulous, as she pulled her hands away from the table and stood up straight. "you aren't . . . you aren't mad ?"

you shook your head, and turned away from her to begin packing your books back into your school bag. "i understand that you don't . . . feel that way about me anymore. i can't do anything to change that, as much as i wish i could."

when you finished putting your stuff away and had your bag on your lap, you'd looked back up at daphne for a brief moment. merlin, she was breathtaking.

her hair looked as perfect and soft as ever, and her light lips looked very kissable. she was smiling at you, clearly relieved that you weren't angry with her. your heart had contracted looking at her then, and it did the same thinking about her now.

"i want us to still be friends, y/n. i love you, i really do. but as . . . as a friend, love." there was that pity again. "please tell me we'll still be friends, even though we're not dating anymore ?"

you'd nodded as you stood and pushed your chair in. "of course, daph." and then you'd walked away, the tears finally free to pour down your cheeks.

you weren't sure if you were going to be able to get over daphne anytime soon, or even ever. but you promised yourself as you walked away from her that you were going to try, and you weren't going to use other people to do it.

˗ ˏˋ ∘ ⠀: ⠀• *

that was two months ago. and you still feel like absolute shit.

at this point, you were sure that daphne had been lying to spare at least some of your feelings when she told you she hoped you two could still be friends. you had barely spoken to her since the break up, except for one time a week afterwards when you ran into her at the three broomsticks and had a semi-pleasant conversation about the weird sisters' new single.

sure, you'd been avoiding her for the most part, but that was because it still hurt like hell. any time you'd see her, that pit of anguish and anxiety would begin to fester, and you'd feel like you needed to throw up.

it had occurred to you in the time that you and daphne had been broken up that maybe she hadn't broken up with you just because she'd stopped loving you. maybe . . . maybe it was because she had finally realized that she was too good for you, which was something you'd been telling her from the start.

whenever you'd said it while you two were dating, she'd scoff at you and tell you it wasn't true, and that you should put a little more effort into loving yourself because you were 'perfect' - her words, definitely not yours.

you'd stopped saying it a little bit before she'd broken up with you, but maybe . . . maybe she'd been thinking about it even without you saying it, and had become aware of the fact that she was too good for you.

and that - all of that pain and doubt and lack of real closure - had lead you to attending a big bash being thrown in the hufflepuff common room. the party had been organized by a group of gryffindors, but they'd chosen the hufflepuff common room as the party site as it was neutral ground. they wanted the hard stuff they knew the slytherins would be able to get but wouldn't share with them if the party was in their own common room.

unfortunately, it had also led you to making out with ernie macmillan in the middle of the hufflepuff common room while that big bash continued on around you.

kissing ernie wasn't ideal - he was nice, sure, but not exactly your type, despite the blond hair. but he was only a few inches taller than you, and if you closed your eyes tight enough, you could pretend - if only a little bit - that you weren't kissing ernie at all, but your ex-girlfriend instead.

you hadn't wanted to use someone to get over daphne the way you were using ernie right now, but you were both tipsy, had bumped into each other and started talking, and the rest you couldn't . . . exactly remember. you knew he'd asked for permission to kiss you, which was really the only thing you needed to remember about this.

you just needed to kiss someone; it didn't matter who they were, and right now, ernie was who was available. unfortunately.

breaking away from your kiss with ernie and mumbling something about going to get another drink, you headed off towards the common room fire instead, where some of the less social people were sitting playing exploding snap or wizard chess. there were also people passed out over the long couches, and you hated to think about someone having to take them to their own common room once the party was over.

you sat yourself down in one of the arm chairs off to the side of the group of furniture, snuggling into its warmth. you didn't want another drink; what you wanted was some time with no one paying attention to you so you could be alone with your thoughts. and maybe some water.

ugh, i'm just putting myself into a worse mess, you thought. you didn't know how ernie was going to react to your making out in the morning. was he going to remember it and want to pursue something with you ? you hoped not, because you didn't like him like that in the slightest. was he going to remember and just not say anything ? better, but not the best. was he going to forget about tonight, or just forget that it was you he'd kissed ? that way the ideal.

you were a horrible person for kissing ernie when you didn't like him, even if he didn't like you either - which you still didn't know, you had to remind yourself. but you'd broken the one important promise you'd made since the day you'd first told daphne you loved her and she said 'promise ?' and you'd said 'yes'.

that water was sounding really good right about then because your throat felt as dry as it had the day daph had broken up with you.

don't cry don't cry don't cry.

you stood reluctantly, and somehow made it to the drink table without tripping over anyone. once there, you poured yourself a glass of water from the separate punch bowl, sniffed it to be sure it wasn't spiked, and then downed the whole thing in three gulps, going back for more immediately after.

it was as you were pouring a ladle-full of the stuff into your cup when you heard a giggle-laugh as melodic as a weeping willow was beautiful.

"damn," daphne said as she squeezed in at the table beside you, reaching to get a hold of what you guessed could only be another bottle of firewhisky. "you downed that stuff as fast as i down alcohol."

you shouldn't have been as surprised as you were to see her at this part; she loved getting drunk, and would go to any party that promised alcohol. she'd slowed it way down when you two started dating, but you guessed that it'd started back up again once you'd broken up. and yet, you were still surprised. maybe you were tipsier than you thought.

"oh, hey daph . . . ne." you cringed at the way you could hear how you'd paused to use her first name instead of her nickname.

she giggle-laughed again. it was then that you knew that she was totally drunk; daphne greengrass was not the type to giggle sober. "hey, y/n/n !" she took a big gulp from her bottle. "how've you been ?"

you looked away awkwardly. man, daphne, i've been like shit ! only because you broke up with me, though, but don't worry, i don't blame you !

instead, you said, "oh, i've been . . . i've been better, really. a . . . lot better." that last part was only to you, mumbled into your cup as you looked back up at your ex. your gorgeous, perfect ex.

daphne didn't seem to take notice of your implied anger with her over the break up ( you weren't angry,  really, it was just how the sentence had come out ), and if she did, she didn't comment on it.

"that's good. was getting kinda worried about you, you know." she leaned forward, getting closer than was comfortable for you when you were still so hung up on her. "we're still supposed to be best friends, after all !"

you laughed. it was painfully forced, and even more painfully awkward. "yeah . . . best friends . . ."

you noticed that the crowd around you was getting more rowdy, cheering at something on the other side of the hufflepuff common room.

"y'know, we should really go into hogsmeade together on the next trip. we haven't . . . !" that was when you began to tune her out. since when was she this perky of a drunk ? you choose instead to take small sips from your cup, that contents of which were steadily waning. god, you were still so in love with her, but you couldn't tell her that. she'd always been soft on you, but now that you were broken up ? you weren't so sure if that was still the case, and daphne had some mean friends when it came down to it.

while lost in your thoughts, someone shoved you to get to one side of the drink table, and you crashed forward into daphne - who was still babbling on about whatever - sending her crashing backwards.

she fell to the ground with a large thump, and when she'd ceased to only be a blur of motion, you saw that over half the contents  left of her firewhisky had spilled out onto the carpet, leaving only a fourth of it left.

you rushed to her side immediately, fussing over her, and making sure she wasn't hurt. you took the bottle from her and set it down on the drink table before going back to help her up off the ground. she winced as she stood up, making you concerned immediately. she was already drunk, and now this ?

"daphne, daph, are you alright ? why're you wincing, baby ?" the 'baby' was subconscious, something that you'd been so used to calling her before the break up but had been so careful not to use afterwards - until now, apparently. it felt so natural, calling her that.

instead of answering, she just stared at you, head slightly cocked in a very puppy-ish fashion.

"what ?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"it's just . . ." daphne paused, chewing at her lip in thought. she looked remarkably sober now, but it was clear to you that she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say.

"it's just that you're so sad all the time now, and i . . . and i can tell, with the way you look during dinner and classes, but here you are, so - so concerned about me, when i'm the one that hurt you."

you were a bit taken aback by her comment, not sure why she wanted to bring this up now, but you smiled nonetheless. it was a melancholy smile. "of course i'm concerned about you. i still love you, and i want you to be happy."

tears were welling up in your eyes, and instead of blinking them away like you had the afternoon she'd broken up with you, you let them roll down your cheeks. you watched daphne as her gaze shot to the tears and followed them until they dripped off your face. her eyes, wide with what looked like startled regret, met yours again, and she looked lost, like she couldn't remember what she was doing there at that party standing in front of you. you hesitated, not sure if you wanted to continue with what you had wanted to say. you decided you did.

"even . . ." your voice was trembling. "even if i'm not what makes you happy anymore."

#daphne greengrass #imagine #oneshot #fandom imagines #daphne greengrass x reader #hp #harry potter #harry potter x reader #angst #daphne #daphne x reader #daphne x reader angst #daphne greengrass imagine #writing #golden trio era #lightning era #slytherin #slytherin x reader #hogwarts

[buckys-old-habits]

Another Blind Date

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Mention of drinking

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Steve and Sam try to set Bucky up to find his true love. Annoyed by them he goes on a run (from his date) and gets a strange phone call. Following it up, it seems like fate brought him something good. 

He knew that they meant well, he knew. But they annoyed him to no end now. The constant blind dates they dragged him into, the questions they asked about said dates and potential partners. He was beyond irritated and locked himself away in the gym to finally get some rest from his two obnoxious friends.

He delivers punch after punch to the, with sand-filled, bag, building an outlet for his frustration. The door to the gym swung open and he grits his teeth when he recognizes the familiar pattern of steps. “Hey, Metalhead.” Bucky ignores the jabbing and concentrates on his breathing. If Sam comes down to the gym he has something in store for Bucky but nothing good.

“Are you free tonight?”, the Falcon asks and Bucky delivers a harder punch, throwing the bag through the room and into the wall. Huffing he turns towards his friend and glares at him. “No, I'm not.” “Right, because you have a date with a lovely lady”, Sam smirks and Bucky would love to punch it off his face but he refrains. “No!”

“Come on. You are alone and needy. Don't tell me you don't feel the urge to-” “Stop right there”, Bucky points at him and unwraps his right hand, deciding that he can't continue his training, at least not in here. “You agreed to help Steve, why can't we help you know?”, Sam follows him to the bench and Bucky takes a swig from his water. “I don't need it like Steve did.”

His friend cocks an eyebrow at him and Bucky scoffs. “I don't need your help. Tell Steve that when I want a partner I will find one for myself”, with that Bucky leaves the gym and jogs up to his room, searching for his phone and headphones. He still needs to finish his training so he departs from the headquarter and heads for the park to jog there.

The sun sets and he still has a few miles to run, his mind wandering away from the stress of the job and his friends. They are right and to a degree, he is thankful for their support but he doesn't want to go onto the third date this week and it's only Thursday. Where do they find these potential partners? Most of them only go out with him because they want to grow closer to the famous Captain America or another Avenger. The others that show interest in him he deems not ready and fit as his partner. He needs more than just a few kisses here and there and sex.

He is a broken man, not really something someone would want to support. Sure, he would love to have someone by his side, someone who he could spoil and love but who is ready to burden themselves with the nightmares and constant flashbacks. The episodes he sometimes still has which could be violent.

Shaking his head he listens to the music in his ear and sighs. He deems himself not ready and that is it. Concentrating on his footsteps and breathing again he lets his mind wander away from this topic, getting lost in the monotone routine of running.

So he nearly loses his footing when his ringtone suddenly blasts into his ear, interrupting the former song. Fumbling with his phone in the arm strap he presses the button on his headphones to answer the call. Maybe Steve wants to order him back after he talked with Sam about the date tonight.

“I don't want to go to this stupid date of yours”, Bucky snarls into the speaker before the caller could even say one sentence. “I know, Babe, but could you pick me up nonetheless?” His step flatter and he stops. The voice isn't Steve's, someone else is calling him and he doesn't know who.

“Who are you?” “It's me, (y/n). I know that we didn't talk for a long time but please, pick me up at the police station”, the caller seems frightened. “Police station?”, finally, he freed his phone from the strap and looks at the number and surely it's the one from the station nearby.

“Could you pick me up, Babe?”, the nickname throws him off but it sounds really urgent. “I'm coming. I'm there in five minutes.” A sigh reaches his ear and a mumbled thank you before the line cuts off. Bucky is confused but something tells him that the caller is really scared and needs help.

So he turns around and jogs towards the police station just a few blocks away, curious about the caller and their situation.

Your head is pounding but you can still think clearly. The room is cold and you shiver not only because you just wear a thin shirt but also 'cause you are scared. You were out with a few friends, just celebrating a birthday and you wanted to get some fresh air when the police scooped you up and brought you here. Now they want that somebody comes for you, not easy when your friends are drunk and your relatives live two states over.

A random number that you found in your pocket was your only hope and you called it. You can imagine that the man on the other end is clearly confused. You just hope that he really comes. The officer standing by the door creeps you out, maybe it's the alcohol in your blood or the many stories you heard but you don't want him to touch you.

“Miss?”, said man speaks up and you look towards him. “Your boyfriend is here. Follow me please.” You nod and stand up, regaining your balance after a wave of nausea crashes over you. Then you follow the man into the lobby, looking around, you search for the potential 'boyfriend' who came to your aid.

Luckily the officer points him out for you and you study the man. He is tall, very well built and his brown hair is pulled back into a bun. He wears work out clothes and a heart-shaped sweat stain formed over his chest. He also looks around and then his blue eyes meet yours, a questioning glance.

The officer walks towards him and you follow, mentally preparing yourself for the confrontation. “Here she is, Mister Barnes”, the uniformed man says and the brunet nods. “Thank you”, his voice is deep and you feel a shiver running down your spine. “Come on, Doll. Let's get you home.” Slowly you step towards his side when the officer speaks up again. “You should know that we found her in an alleyway. You should look after her some more.”

“I'm not a child anymore”, you spat, fed up with the way he spoke like you wasn't even here. The man beside you wraps his arm around your waist, a comforting gesture and you look up at him. “She's right. I understand that it wasn't safe but I'm not her bodyguard and I'm sure that she is able to protect herself”, his voice is deeper and more firm while he glares at the officer.

“Come on”, the brunet guides you outside, gently tugging you into his side. You follow his lead and smile at yourself, he is a real sweetheart. The cold air rushes over you and you take a deep breath, the air inside was too stuffy for your taste. Now the adrenaline vanishes and you just feel tired.

“You okay, (y/n)?”, the man beside you steps in front of you and studies you, noticing the shift in your stature. “Tiered”, you mumble but smile at him. “Thank you for your help.” A soft smile tugs on his lips and he nods. “Bucky Barnes at your service, Doll. Let's get you home.” He wraps his arm around you again and you relish in the warmth and comfort.

You tell him your address and he knows where to go, sometimes you show him a shortcut. Silence encloses you and you fight against the sleepiness, your eyelids fluttering. “How did you get my number?”, he asks suddenly and you are ripped from your trance. Stipping you fumble for the paper with the number, before handing it to him. He surveys the handwriting and sighs lowly.

“When did you get it? And from whom?” You rake your brain for the answer and then you snap your finger. “Last week at the coffee shop I work. Two men came by and told me that their friend is lonely and I would fit his preferences. Now that you mention it, I should have gone onto a blind date with this man tonight.” Your eyebrows furrow and suddenly you feel bad for the man you seemingly left hanging.

“That would have been me”, Bucky says and you look up into his blue eyes. He glares at the phone he has in his hand now and you try to catch what he looks at. “This the two men?”, he turns the phone around and you study the picture he pulled up. A blond and a dark-skinned man smile back at you, in the middle a grumpy looking Bucky. “Yeah, this one gave me the number”, you point at the blond and then at the other man, “and this one told me about the preferences of...you.” Now your hazy brain pieces together the scene and you gape at the man.

“You should have been my blind date.” He chuckles at your late realization but nods before tapping at his phone. After a while, he pockets it and wraps his arm around you again. “Let's get you home.”

With that, he walks you home and you nearly fall asleep when he stops in front of your house. “We're here, Doll.” “Thank you, again”, you search for your keys and look at him after you found them. Bucky musters you and you feel bashful, not sure what he wants. Then he pulls a pen from his pocket and writes something onto the paper with his number. He hands it to you, waves and jogs away from you. Confused you watch him till you can't see him anymore and then you unfold the paper and read what he wrote.

Tomorrow night, at 7 pm. I pick you up. But no alcohol for you, Doll.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #reader insert #franca-writes

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Stupid Cupid

Steve Harrington x Reader

Author’s Note: So, two important things to note here: one, this is for @moonstruckhargrove‘s 1k Challenge, which ended two days ago I know. Two, in regards for this being late, I have a reason! I started some fucking angst with both Billy AND Steve and it...fine. And then I just hated it and it was over 6k and I just had to scrape it all. So now we have some fluff and longing, which I’ve probably written five times and is probably boring. BUT when I say I’ll do something, I do, so enjoy I guess

Tag List: @hargrovesgoldilocks @moonstruckhargrove @casaharrington @denimjacketkisses @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @so-not-hotmess

Word Count: 2,995

Warnings: cheating, maybe swearing?

Prompt: 11. I love you, you enormous pain in my ass 

You’d been dancing around the subject for a month and a half.

You really shouldn’t have been, but you were scared.

You’d started dating Billy the second he arrived in town and Steve thought you were actually nuts. At first, it might’ve been because he was in love with you, but then he got the shit kicked out of him by the fucker and all bets were off. He didn’t tell you about the scene, because he didn’t want you to worry or worse, bring it up with the asshole that’d done it to him, but he didn’t hold back his disdain about him with you anymore.

But you had a feeling something more was going on. Billy was not exactly subtle about his disdain for your friend, but you assumed it would fade eventually, a sort of jealousy on both their parts. But that didn’t fade and soon Steve was actively pissing on your guy. And Billy, well he’d always been an ass about Steve, so nothing much changed.

What changed was Billy’s attention. Kristen McMasters got a boob job over the Christmas break and all bets were off. Billy was…enticed to say the least.

Everyone seemed to know it was coming before you. Everyone except Steve. He would’ve told you, he swore that and you believed him, but he was distracted by his hatred and missed the signs. And you certainly didn’t see it coming. You knew enough about Billy’s family to guess that the holiday season was not going to be a merry season for him. You thought he was stressed out by upcoming exams and finding the cash to buy gifts for his stepmother and Max, which Neil was forcing him to buy. You thought it would fade when you got to Macy’s birthday bash.

And it did, sort of. Because he abandoned you and, after you went searching, you found him with Kristen McMasters riding him, her fake tits bouncing wildly. You guessed it was a good stress reliever for him.

You blamed Carol, for not telling you what was happening in the room she declaring your missing boyfriend was in. You blamed yourself, for not knocking first. You blamed Kristen, for going off with your boyfriend and screwing him. But mostly, you blamed Billy for being unable to ignore the lure of big, perky, fake boobs. You blamed him for being such an awful boyfriend.

You thanked Steve.

He found you, screaming at Billy and crying as he dismissed your emotions and smacked Kristen’s ass as she scurried out, red faced and head hung in shame. He led you away, letting you cry it out in the car, and letting you punch Carol in her bitchy face, wiping the snotty smirk off her face. Best of all, he let you hide at his place when your mother sent you angrily over to the Hargrove-Mayfield house with the big batch of cookies she’d made for them for Christmas. You gorged yourself on baking while watching movies in his big empty house; his parents weren’t home till Christmas Eve and you hid a batch your mother had made in the freezer for them to have, switching the notes she’s written out from ‘To Billy, Love Y/N’ to ‘To the Harrington’s, season greetings from the Y/L/N’s’ and insisting Steve pull them out to defrost before his parents returned. It was a nice that turned into several days as you just kept hiding their, studying for exams and listening to music and forcing him to decorate.

He helped you heal over Christmas. He helped you when you had to return to school. He held you back when you found Kristen and Billy were a couple and bragging about how Billy hadn’t been satisfied before he ditched you. He drove you to school and brought you coffee and kept Billy off your ass. He took a lot of grief from the guy in exchange for him ignoring you.  It was something he didn’t even think twice about; you didn’t need his bullshit and Steve didn’t really care, it just made Billy look like an asshole.

And it was making Billy look like an asshole. Even Tommy didn’t think it was that funny anymore.

The semester shifted wildly in Steve’s favour-suddenly, the world seemed to go back into place. But Steve didn’t want it anymore. He didn’t want to be King Steve; he wanted to be the world’s best babysitter to Dustin and his friends and your best friend. Internally, he wanted to be your boyfriend, but he didn’t think that was gonna happen and so he held out for the friendship you shared.

Of course, you were more than ready to be with him, if he’d ask. Steve, post Nancy, had gotten incredibly good at hiding his feelings. He didn’t want to get hurt again and you couldn’t stand the idea of ruining your friendship or his comfort with you by bringing in silly feelings. You’d just suffer in silence and watch him be happy.

But it was sort of weird. As Steve gained his status back among your peers, the girls who hadn’t been so vocal in their interest in him began crawling out of the woodwork and into his lap. Maybe they had always been there and you hadn’t noticed, or maybe they simply jumped ship from Billy onto him. But either way, Steve wasn’t as interested in them. And that threw you for a loop-Steve was always a ladies’ man, a womanizer and a flirt. Every girl seemed to have a Steve Harrington story-an encounter or a near miss that bound them in some sort of gossip circle. You didn’t have one of these moments, at least not one that you’d tell anyone about.

Steve was trashed, positively trashed. You knew that he was gonna go nuts, seeing as how it was March break and he had the house empty, again, meaning no one to catch him trashed upon his return. Katy Andrews, a naïve junior, had decided to throw the annual Spring Break Bash at her house, her parents seemingly equally naïve as to leave her alone while they went to Florida to visit her grandparents. The house was destroyed and poor Katy was crying in the bathroom, moaning that her parents were going to kill her, and you had to get Steve back home before he blacked out or did something even more regrettable. He had already smashed poor Katy’s pool table in the basement, although you weren’t sure she knew about that yet. You intended to get Steve out before he started blabbing about it.

Steve wasn’t easily dragged off by most, but you grabbed him tight and kept him moving, hooking an arm around his chest as he whined about wanting to “fucking party!”You were just glad Steve lived close so you wouldn’t have to drive him anywhere. Once you were out on the sidewalk, Steve went with you without a hitch, a goofy smile like pure sunshine on his face. When you arrived at him house, you pulled the spare key from under the mat and unlocked the door, not bothering to try to get Steve to remember where he put his.

“Finally, I got you alone…” he slurred stumbling into the dark house, his warm hands coming to your hips as he walked, well tripped, up the stairs.

“Oh god, Steve, be careful you’re gonna fall down the stairs and take me with you.” You laughed, pulling his hands off your waist and hoping he didn’t fall from the change. He whined loudly as you pushed him up and into his room.

“Alright lay down I-”

“Woah woah slow down, baby, I like it slow.” His hands came to your face and you froze, unsure if he was kidding or not. But his lips came to yours, quick and warm and gentle. And you let yourself kiss him back, a selfish decision you rationalized as the only one you’d ever make with him. He broke away first, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, smiling softly at you “You’re so beautiful, Nancy…”

Your blood ran cold, but you maintained an easy smile as your heart broke “And you’re so drunk, Steve. Let me go get you some water so you’re not hung over tomorrow.” You said, patting his cheek gently and pulling away. Steve didn’t follow and you took the opportunity to let a loud and sad sigh trying to keep from crying. You’d done it yourself, letting yourself get your hopes up that he could feel the same way about you. You filled a glass, bringing it back upstairs. Steve had passed out and you decided not to wake him, letting yourself feel a bit of vindictive anger and letting him suffer in the morning. You had told your parents you were crashing at a friend’s house and so made your way downstairs, crashing on Steve’s couch, feeling smaller than ever.

You never reminded Steve of this moment, you didn’t want to embarrass the poor guy, but you distanced yourself a bit after that. You had had hope before that moment but after it you put some space between the two of you. You didn’t want to get hurt and you really didn’t want to get hurt by Steve. So you did your best to break away-you went out with other people, including one terrible date with Keith from the arcade. You partied without him, you drank and danced, you even hung out with Tommy and Carol again and got high in Tommy’s basement, watching Kristen beg for Billy’s attention as he kept his locked on you. It wasn’t fun, not nearly as it would’ve been to just get high with Steve, hot boxing his bedroom with a bag of cheese puffs between you. But it was what you needed to do. You needed to be away.

But Steve kept dragging you back.

He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t. He didn’t know what he did but he was determined to get you back. He chased you single-mindedly, determined to keep you in your life. And he did, you were never going away, and he knew that.

He made his moves in small ways too. He took you to prom, under the guise of him needing a date for when he won prom king, which he did by a landslide. He tried to not marvel at you in stiff taffeta as you shuffled around, trying to blow stiff pieces of hair out of your eyes as you sipped spiked punch with a bored expression. Prom wasn’t exactly your scene, but you had some fun dancing with him. He looked so handsome in his dumb suit and, later, in his cheesy plastic crown, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Despite not wanting to go at all, you had a lot of fun. It would’ve been better if he was actually your boyfriend, so you could be jealous when Tina tried to hit on him and make a scene. Instead you watched in silence, barely listening to Nancy as she whined about Jonathan’s whining about the music playing at the event. You wanted Steve to be happy and if that meant Tina then you’d deal with Tina next to your broken heart.

As summer came and college approached, you began to hit your breaking point. You had two options for college, one within driving distance and one on the opposite side of the state. You had been honestly been considering staying in two, a cheaper choice that could mean renting an apartment in between the school and your home town. But staying in town could only lead to more pain from your longing, a pain that could be ended simply by leaving him behind. Steve was staying in town, he was going to the police academy, so leaving could be the right choice.

But there was only one way to find out.

Steve had been working at Scoops Ahoy! all summer, leaving him smelling like spoiled milk all the time, but flushed with cash and a new found disdain for his classmates and their parents. You hung out with him at work often enough, meeting his co-worker Robin, who you thought Steve obviously had a crush on, until you learned about her girlfriend Heather. You felt silly after that, but it just reminded you that you had to tell him how you felt.

And soon.

You waited until July, because you had to submit your acceptance by the end of the month for community college and the second week for your second choice. You needed to know before you chose.

Normally, you wouldn’t invite yourself over to Steve’s house, especially without a call first, but something in your gut told you that if you tried to call, you’d chicken out. So you got in your car and drove, grinding your teeth and locking your eyes on the horizon, fingers rapping on the steering wheel erratically. You knew Steve’s parents were gone to the summer house in Spain, a trip Steve wasn’t invited on, but you didn’t know if Steve was home.

His car certainly was. You parked behind him, scurrying up the steps and knocking loud and fast on the door. There was no answer, but you tried again, ringing the doorbell, pressing the button a few too many times.

You heard Steve’s voice through the door “I’m coming! Jesus Christ…” He pulled the door open with a scowl that fell away when he saw you. He had obviously just been in the pool. You started to wonder if someone else was here. Still, you held your ground.

“Hey, Y/N, I didn’t know it was you, what’s up?” he said awkwardly, smiling tersely.

“I need to talk to you.” You said, pushing your way past him and into the dark house, dropping your bag on the table by the door. Steve followed behind you awkwardly, wet feet squishing on the tile. He didn’t know what you were here for, but he wasn’t exactly going to kick you out now.

You stopped in the living room, unlit and quiet. You turned to look at Steve, trying to settle your heart and breathing. “Should I go away for school?” you asked breathlessly, the words falling out of your mouth in a tangled string.

Steve’s eyebrows flew into his hairline “Why are you asking me?”

“Cause you’re my friend and I want your opinion.” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest, foot tapping fasting on the carpeted floor.

“Well I don’t know, do what you want.” Steve said, your tense energy starting to feed into his own and making him tense and snippy.

“Well I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!”

“What does my opinion matter anyway, Y/N?” Steve sighed, looking away. His body language changed and you noticed instantly.

Because of course Steve didn’t want you to move away. He wanted you to stay right there in his pocket, where he could hold onto the hope that you’d one day catch onto these signals he was so sure were obvious to everyone and you feel the same.

“You clearly have an opinion, so let me hear it, I wanna hear it!”

Steve groaned, dread settling into his stomach. He didn’t like this conversation, he knew it would only end in a fight.

“Go wherever you want, Y/N, what does it matter what I think?”

“Because I love you, you enormously stubborn pain in my ass and I’m not gonna move away if you feel the same!” you cried exasperatedly.

Well there it was. It’s out. And Steve was deadly silently, staring at you unblinkingly. That was answer enough for you, you pushed past him and rushed towards the front door. You knew you were about to cry or scream and you wouldn’t let either happen in front of him.

Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you back and crashing you into his chest, his other coming to your face, kissing you hard before you could interject or try to pull away.

He’d frozen when you said that you loved him. Because that had never happened before. He’d said it once and the results were disastrous for his self esteem and mindset. But you loved him. It rocked him to his core, he didn’t know what to do. And then you were walking away and he knew he’d waited a second too long. And now he was kissing you and you were kissing him back and oh my god the world could end and he’d be utterly content.

He broke away first, he needed to take a deep breath, but he kept his hands firmly on your face, looking down at you with the softest, most love struck expression you’d ever seen.

“Don’t go, okay? I want you to stay here with me.” He whispered softly.

You couldn’t help the grin that broke onto your face “I thought you didn’t have an opinion?”

“I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

“How could I know how you felt if you didn’t tell me?” you asked teasingly, poking a finger into his chest.

“I thought you’d catch on to…the obvious signals I was giving?”

“And what signals would those be?” you asked, watching Steve flounder for an answer, which he never found. “If it makes you feel better, I was looking for proof that you didn’t like me at all.”

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” Steve asked, pulling you closer to him.

“Nah, we’re just…selectively smart.” You grinned, and Steve pulled your chin up to meet his lips. You pressed a finger on his lips, keeping you apart for a second. “Wait, you…you like…you love me too right?” you asked awkwardly, watching as the error hit Steve again.

“Oh yeah! Shit, right, I do! I love you!” Steve blushed and you pulled him down to kiss you again, clinging onto him as if your world was ending.

In a way, it was.

#moonstruckhargrove1k #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x reader #steve x you #steve harrington au #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au

[lcighz-blog]

a MATTHEW DADDARIO lookalike was strolling down broadway street in their WHITE VANS. LEIGH ST ARES just had a birthday bash for his  twenty seventh birthday. he has been living in new york city for all his life. i hear he tends to be reckless at parties, but also kind of sweet. ( cismale & he/him ) 

hey everyone ! i’m JJ, and i was in the rp awhile ago with a jade thirlwall fc, but my activity sucked because of school so i died, almost literally haha. i’m back and back with a different muse. like most of my muses, there are A LOT of TRIGGERS, please be mentally prepared. i might have forgotten some or something. besides that, im really excited to play Leigh !

----> also, this is super long, so i love you if you got through it all. 

Quincy Morrison Jr, who is now named Leigh St Ares, was born in New York City to a mother who worked all day and all night that she didn’t have enough time for her family, and a father that drowned himself in alcohol. 

Leigh had two other siblings in that household he tried taking care of, especially since his mom eventually ended up abandoning the family. Leaving Leigh and his siblings stuck with their alcoholic dad that tended to take his anger out primarily on Leigh. 

For many years Leigh took the punches, bruises, cuts etc until a neighbour overheard a window breaking in the house. the police came by and gave Mr. Morrison a warning. Finally Leigh’s dad entered rehab, and things seemed to be getting better, up until his dad got into a relationship with Tiffany Vanderbilt.

Tiffany became interested in Leigh when he was 13 and ended up taking advantage of him, and threatening if Leigh ever said anything, it would make his father relapse and be abusive again. So Leigh said nothing, and even when he said something, he always told himself at least it was him and not his siblings. 

After an entire year of that, more social workers came into the home and Leigh finally spoke out about everything that happened thinking it would work out in the end -- but ofc it didn’t.

At 14, Leigh got put into the foster system, being separated from his siblings. At this point, he told himself he had nothing going for him and everything wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

Leigh got placed into a really nice foster home with Leighton and Andrea Holt, who were successful doctors. They’re really angels because they put up with A LOT of Leigh’s shit. Leigh got into fights, he stole things, sometimes things he didn’t even need. He got arrested ---- a little more than just once for theft, fighting, trespassing, etc. but he was a minor, he didn’t get much besides a slap on the wrist, warnings, and maybe one night in a cell. He has a record. 

Unfortunately, he was also really into drugs, and when I say drugs, I mean more than just coke and weed. Plus alcohol, but that was soft in comparison. 

When he was 17, he had an overdose at a friends party, and many people thought he would die that night. Leigh definitely didn’t think it would have been a big deal at the time. He didn’t even remember much, just that one minute he was out, and the next he woke up in a hospital bed with his foster parents next to him and his siblings (who he hadn’t spoken to or seen in years) were there too. He kind of got out of it and entered rehab. 

Rehab helped Leigh establish a proper relationship with his foster parents. Leighton Morrison specifically became a very important person to him. Mr. Morrison introduced Leigh to 80′s rock music like AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Motley Crue, Led Zepplin, Queen, etc. from this, he also taught Leigh how to play the guitar and Leigh instantly fell in love with rock music, just music in general.

Leigh ended up forming his own rock band, Lifeline, with Leigh playing the bass and being lead vocals

Lifeline got really popular after a few years of playing in dingy clubs, and sketchy places. When they got super big, you could catch Leigh and Lifeline playing at Vans Warped Tour almost every summer and having their own concerts where fans would go nuts.

Before Lifeline got super huge, Leigh legally changed his name from Quincy Morrison Jr to Leigh St Ares, deciding to be named after the man that helped him get him on his feet. Mr and Mrs Morrison also decided to legally adopt Leigh, to officially make him their son.

Mr Morrison was proud of Leigh, he never failed to tell that to Leigh every night before he performed. Leigh was content and happy to finally have a normal kind of family, and slowly working on getting his siblings into his life again ... until one night after a show, and this was years later. He saw he had a lot of missed calls from Mrs Morrison. When Leigh called back, his heart dropped when discovering that Mr Morrison had passed away due to a heart attack. 

It was a very dark and sad week for Leigh. He was on the edge of relapse, and couldn’t help it. As much as he wants to not go back, he’s fighting with two parts of himself. It’s all conveyed in his music, but, there’s only so much someone can do. he’s living a constant struggle. 

Right now, Leigh is doing promotional work with his band for their next album, gaining recognition from many people with movies like Bohemian Rhapsody and The Dirt bringing rock music back onto the scene. 

PERSONALITY

Leigh’s life was/is hard, he has a lot more money now, but he never grew up with it to really know what to do with it, besides spend it on dumb stuff.

He’s actually a pretty humble guy. i believe he has kind of different personalities, depending who he’s with. He’s very much boarded up when it comes to his past. He knows his name is made up, it’s as made up as Nikki Sixx’s name, but that’s his name and he’ll die with it. 

Leigh loves to play the bass or guitar, making random tunes and humming what could be lyrics while chilling on his balcony. He’s not a materialistic guy, even if he’s starting to get endorsements from Versace and Gucci. He’d much rather wear Doc Martin’s or Vans than something made from Louis Vuitton. 

I would say he’s only approachable if you know him, or have some connection with him already. He seems like a teddy bear, but sometimes he can come off like a grizzly bear.

He’s still a sweet guy, he’s caring and doesn’t ever mean any harm to people, just to himself. 

PLOTS 

Exes : give me all of these plots, i live for this

“What could have been” :  where they could have been close, there was something there but nothing happened. 

“We were drunk and got into a messy bar fight, now i don’t like you” : it sounds fun lol

Crushes 

Friends

Bandmates

Collaboration ideas

Frenemies

Brotps

just anything i love it all :3

like this and i’ll come to you kinda thing, or you come to me idk ... whoever does it first wins? 

#{ x t r i g g e r w a r n i n g : drugs & alcohol #{ x t r i g g e r w a r n i n g : suicide #{ x t r i g g e r w a r n i n g : abuse ( physical&sexual ) #{ x t r i g g e r w a r n i n g : jail time #{ x t r i g g e r w a r n i n g : death #wealthyhq:intro #i think i got it all?

[calmcal]

Helpless

Summary: one look at Calum leaves you feeling completely and utterly helpless, could it be love at first sight?

Paring: calum hood x reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: none

Author Note: based off of the song Helpless from the Hamilton soundtrack, I suggest you listen to it while reading. There will be a part two to this! 

masterlist

The music poured from the black speakers in loud waves, the bass heavy and almost deafening. Vibrations travelling across the hard wood floor and through the bodies of the party goers. The living room was sweltering, heat radiating between the four walls. Drunk girls and guys alike were pressed tightly together dancing to the music, body slick with sweat and gleeful smiles on their faces. In the far corner, a tattered blue couch was overflowing with people, taking a break from the intense dancing going on. Red solo cups were littered around the floor, a pool of spilled beer was making the floor sticky in places, but in a drunk haze, people didn’t seem to notice.

“Come’s on!” Your sister, Candice cheered loudly as she wrapped her warm hands around your forearm and dragging you through the sea of sweaty bodies and towards what looked like a kitchen.

You laughed at Candice as she carelessly pushed people aside, completely unfazed by their complaints. This was how she was. She commanded attention and she knew how to get people to listen to her, even when they were completely smashed. Candice was just compelling and enchanting, it was her gift, really.

“You need a drink” She grinned widely as she released your arm and picked up a clean red cup, filling it half way with a bright pink liquid that was being held in a glass punch bowl. Your brows furrowed at the liquid as it slouched from side to side as your sister filled the cup, you didn’t even want to know what was in it, or why it was a surprising pink colour.

Candice handed you the red cup with a smile, holding a cup of her own. You grimaced slightly, taking the cup. Your fingers wrapped around the cup, it was cool under your hot skin. You peered down at the cup, the liquid smelled so strongly that it made you wince, even in a small portion it was still vibrant pink. You lifted the cup to your lips and the unexpected sweet taste reached your lips, then a bitter sting followed.

You winced slightly taking the cup away from your lips, shaking your head softly, you never understood how people at parties drank things like this, it was dreadful. Candice laughed at your reaction, scooping another cupful of the liquid into her cup.

“I don’t get how you can drink this, it’s awful” You pulled a sour face, in saying that you took another sip, you’d rather be a little tipsy to handle a party like this, this really wasn’t your type of scene.

“You get used to it” Candice shrugged with a playful smile on her lips, you wondered of her words rang any truth, but you didn’t want to drink any more of the concoction to find out.

Candice threw her drink bag and drank the rest of what was left her cup, before offering her hand to you. You tilted your head in confusion, while Candice waved her hand in your face with a wide grin graced her red lips, there was a soft giggle that escaped your lips as your watched your sister do her little dance before she started talking.

“Let’s dance!” She cheered loudly as she took hold of your hand and pulled you back the way she had dragged you before. You drank what was left in your cup with a grimace before leaving it on the island you passed. Candice stood in the middle of the living room, and easy smile on her lips as the music floating around her.

She stood among the crowd of people but she danced like she was the only one in the room, without care. She wiggled her fingers at you and you threw your head back in laughter. Candice grabbed both of your hands as she pulled you along with a dancing, spinning you around as you laughed. The music in the room was loud and filled your ears, the vibrations flowed through your body, leaving you feeling alive. You looked around the room to see eyes watching your sister as she danced, she looked like the life of the party. She was beautiful and charmed everyone that looked at her, and she was clearly thriving with the attention, without really knowing it. You took a step as you laughed at her, it was laughter of joy, you loved seeing your sister daze those around her by just being herself, the world saw her just like you did in these moments.

You danced slowly to the music, people seemed to forget that you were there, to focused on your sister. You liked it that way. In the midst of the crowd you noticed a boy, or man, standing the door way, clearly entering the party for the first time. The loud music that once took over all your senses was now just a background hum of white noise. The sound of your heart beating erratically in your chest was the only thing you could hear as your eyes locked onto this beautiful stranger.

He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans that hugged his legs tightly, there was a rip at his knees, you wondered if it was a fashion choice or if they were just a pair of old jeans. Your eyes moved from his legs to see a blue t-shirt tucked into his jeans, there were white letters that were written across the chest, but you couldn’t see them clearly. A leather jacket was was covering his arms, a cool contrast to his sun kissed skin. Then your eyes reached his face. His eyes were a dark and chocolaty brown, his hair was a mass of dark curls that looked soft and fluffy. His skin was deeply tanned, and his lips looked pink and puckered against his skin. His hand ruffled his curly locks and you noticed the silver glint of rings that adorned his knuckles. Dark link etched on his skin, you could make out what it was, but your mind was a flutter with the thought. You stood for what seemed like hours just staring at the stranger, hoping that maybe his eyes would move around the crowd just to meet yours.

You felt a giddy joy wash over your body like a cold wave of water, refreshing and exciting. There mere sight of this strangers tower figure sent your head and heart into a tizzy. You took quick strides towards your sister, who was now surrounded by a small crowd of people, each person trying their hardest to grasp her attention, even for a mere second. You didn’t care how people glared at you as you pushed your way past them. Your shaking hand reached out to grasp your sisters. Startled, Candice spun on her heels to seen you grinning at her. Her dancing at completely stopped now, and her attention was on you now, there was a smile on her lips as she watched your face portray a look of pure smitten love.

Candice reached out to grasp both of your hands, squeezing them softly as she waited to hear what you wanted to tell her. You held back your giddy laughter as you squeezed her hand tightly in response before leaning closer to her, trying to shield your next words from any prying ears.

“This one’s mine” You whispered the words softly into your sisters ear before leaning back slightly, nodded your head towards the hansom stranger that was standing in the door way, surrounded by his friends, a wide and genuine smile on his soft lips. 

Candice had a warm smile on her lips as she looked at you, your eyes were glazed over she you stared at her, your lips painting a wide grin and your cheeks had a soft pink glow to them. She could tell that you really like whoever had captured your attention.

Candice tore her eyes away from your glowing skin to peer at the boy who had captured her younger sisters attention so quickly. The corners of her lips turned up into a small smile as her eyes locked onto the tall boy, before looked back at you. She squeezed your hands one last time, before sending you a wink. Her warm hands left your grasp as she turned on her heels, walking in the direction of the very hansom stranger. There was a determined look on Candice’s face, a look you knew too well. Once she had this looked on her soft features there was now stopping her. You simply just watched her long and powerful strides towards the boy, you could feel butterflies fly around your stomach as your nerves got the better of you. Your fingers laced in front of your body, trying to still their movement, while your heat beat pounded loudly in your ears.

Candice asserted herself in between his small group of friends, capturing the attention of them all, but her eyes were set on the tanned boy. She reached out to place a soft hand against his arm as a smile graced her lips. Candice seemed to charm to boys around her, her words flowing from her lips and making them laugh. You watched as the boy returned her smile with a charming one, his smile made you smile, it was just simply enchanting.

Candice leans closer to him, lips moving slowly as she spoke, forming a string of words that made him laugh, and for moment your heart fell to your stomach as he was charmed by your sister, why wouldn’t he be, she was amazing. You felt about ready to give up on the hansom stranger when you saw your sister’s lips move again, you couldn’t hear what she was saying to him, but you noticed the subtle jutting of her head softly in your direction and the warm smile on her lips.

There were a few seconds where you wondered if he would look your way or if he would stay enchanted by your sister, your heart skipping a beat as you bit down on your lips in pure nerves. You really hoped he looked your way. Then it was as if someone had heard your calls, because his turned his head slightly to look over his shoulders, his dark eyes locking right onto your own.

Goosebumps prickled your skin as his dark eyes met your own, leaving a warmth to spread through your body. You lips fell from the hold you had on it as a bashful smile tugged at your lips, cheeks glowing with a hue of rosy pink. You watched as the stranger held his gaze towards you, a wide smile now tugging at his lips. Candice excused herself and the boy from his group of friends, wrapping a hand around his wrist as she tugged him behind her.

You felt your heart trying to leap out of your chest as the seconds ticked past, each second he came closer and closer to you, and you could feel the rosy colour on your cheeks turning to a bright shade of red, heat washing over your body in waves. Your eyes were locked onto his, swimming in his warm gaze.

“This is my sister Y/N” Candice said softly as she released the strangers wrist, he was now standing a mere inches from you.

“It’s nice to meet you” You said softly as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you tilted your head up slightly to look at him.

“Calum Hood” He mumbled under his breath, his cheeks housing a soft blush to them as he stumbled over his introduction.

Your lips curved into a dazed smile as you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet. He returned the smile as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I’ll leave you two, to it then” Candice grinned as she gripped your hand quickly, squeezing if softly, giving you a encouraging grin, before letting your hand go, and walking back into the kitchen, but you could still see her watching you with a please smile, in the corner of your eye.

“You look really pretty” Calum blurted out once your sister had left your side. You looked at him with wide eyes, tips trying to hide the tooth smile that threatened to paint your lips.

You peered down at the outfit you had decided on for the night, it was a simple pale blue romper with delicate Lillie's printed on it, thin straps barely covering your shoulders, and shorts that ended mid thigh. Paired with simple sandals. You left your hair down, in it’s natural state, but you had a hair tie around your wrist, just encase you decided a bun was a better option. Pretty and yet lowkey, perfect for a house party you thought.

“Thanks” You replied sheepishly as you brushed your hands against the warm skin of your thighs, trying to rid the sweat forming on your palms. “I like your jacket, very rocker vibe” You noted as you pointed to the leather adorning his chest.

You wanted to slap your palm against your forehead as the words tumbled from your mouth without even thinking about it. ‘very rocker vibe’ god Y/N!

Calum chuckled deeply as he looked at the jacket before looking back at you. “I’d like to think so, I’m in a band” Calum explained as he took his hands out from his pockets and letting them rest against his sides.

Your eyes widened slightly at his confession “Really?” You questioned, voice raising slightly. Calum chuckled softly before nodded his head. “What do you play?” You asked, intrigued. Maybe your weird comment hadn’t been as unwarranted as you thought.

“I play bass” Calum said with a smile. “And I sing on the odd occasion” He continued on, just by the look on his face you could clearly tell how much this band meant to him and how much he enjoyed music in general.

“That’s really cool” You noted as you took a small step towards him. Calum took notice of the gesture and smiled softly, following your lead. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play an instrument” You commented.

“Not interested enough?” He asked as ran his fingers through his hair and you smiled at the action, which that you could be to one to run your fingers through his soft looking locks.

“No, I’m a professional shower singer” You boasted with a playful glint in your eyes. “Tone deaf and all” You giggled at your own joke.

Calum snorted at your joke, and you felt proud having made him laugh.You shifted your weight from one foot to the other as Calum’s intense gaze watched your every move. You felt giddy under his gaze, just a simple look left you feeling completely and utterly Helpless. Like you were floating in a fluffy cloud, you didn’t want this moment to stop, ever.

There was a moment were neither of you said anything, the silence wasn’t awkward, but nice. It gave both you and Calum time to bath in each others presence, enjoying each others company.

“This is gonna sound a little forward” Calum said suddenly, capturing your attention once more. “And I know we just met” He kept speaking fumbling over a few of his words, cheeks painted a soft pink that made your heart melt into a puddle all the while beating a thousand beats a minute. You nodded your head, as if encouraging him to continue. “But I’d like to see you again?” He finished off quickly, his words slipping from his lips in a single breath.

There was no hiding the giddy smile that over took your lips as his question, you could feel the heat over taking your cheeks, surely they were tomato red by now. It was nice knowing that he felt the same as you do.

“Like a date?” You questioned nervously, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, you looked away from his eyes your your feet. Toes wriggled in anticipation for his answer.

“Yeah a date” Calum smiled as he hand rubbed the back of his neck, clearly showing how nervous you made him.

Your eyes shot back up to his face to see a tender smile on his lips, and his eyes glistening with something you couldn’t quite label, but it made you feel like like the only girl in the room.

“Yeah, a date sounds perfect”

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood imagines #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood one shot #calum hood one shots #calum hood blurb #calum hood blurbs #calum hood fluff #calum hood au #calum hood 5sos #5sos imagines #5sos imagine #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer one shot #5 seconds of summer fic #5sos au #5 seconds of summer au #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #michael clifford #meloncal writings #helpless

[mugsywrites]

Trailer Reaction

My detailed thoughts and spec.  Includes filming spoilers:

Rick: It’s been awhile since we’ve had one of these talks.

He’s obviously talking to Negan. Snore. I’m already sick of his ass.

Shot of Maggie in a white button up overlooking construction of the Hilltop. Still wears her wedding ring. :(

BABY RHEE!!!!!!! MY SKIN IS CLEAR! CROPS ARE FLOURISHING!

More Rick VO of him rubbing in how much better off they all are without Negan. Shots of Rick smiling at Judith frolicking in a field.

Next shot is of Richonne on horseback and Daryl on his bike riding into Hilltop. Supposedly Maggie is refusing to send food to the Sanctuary and Rick and Michonne have to come talk to her about it. Think it might be this scene.

Judith, Michonne, and Michonne’s AMAZING GUNS in a field growing shit:

Rick VO: Blah blah blah Negan u suck and we rock.

Walker. Rick and Michonne riding through the abandoned capitol, Rick takes out a walker with a mace and Michonne takes out another with her sword and AMAZING GUNS. *sn: this is the day I went to stalk the filming and spotted the AMAZING GUNS in person.

Shot of sexy AF Aaron strolling through a construction site. He’s bearded and sweaty and in a tight shirt. Daryl is there. Later in the trailer they show a bridge that’s been destroyed, I’m guessing this is all the communities grouping together to build a new one.

Shot of Rick at the Sanctuary, telling them he’ll give them what they need to get on their feet. Random Savior says “Bless you Rick Grimes.” I’m guessing this is when Rick finds out about Maggie starving the Sanctuary.

Shot of Zeke, Carol, Daryl, Sydney, Anne, Father G, Maggie, going into what looks like a museum. Walking over a glass walkway over a pit of walkers. According to spoilers Zeke falls through and nearly dies, Carol freaks out, he is rescued by Daryl.

Shot of Michonne using her AMAZING GUNS to lower an old wagon down the museum stairs. She’s aided by Daryl, Sydney, Carzekiel, Siddiq, Anne, Maggie, Father G, Rick, and Enid. I’m guessing this is right before Zeke’s close call. We know they manage to get the wagon out since there were BTS shots of them driving it out. 

Rick walks through a tent city. TSDF said that this was a group of Saviors who’d abandoned the Sanctuary but I think it’s the construction site since we see Tara  and Anne walk by.

Negan: blah blah blah I’m a waste of carbon

Walkers.

Shot of a windvane. I point this out because it looks like it has “COMMONWEALTH” written on it. Easter egg/foreshadowing?

Old Man Rick in a rocking chair talking to Maggie. She gives a callback to Rick saying he’d be following her, but didn’t. (she’s wearing the same blue plaid shirt as the scenes in the capitol) Walkers. Maggie fighting walkers in a blue button up shirt over a white tanktop, wearing the same one when she’s walking with Daryl down the road.

Rick at tent city/bridge construction site. Carzekiel are in the background snuggling by the fire (Carol’s wearing a light gray shirt)

Michonne tells Maggie she’s out of line (I’m guessing for starving the Saviors)

Who wore it better? Ha, trick question, the answer is Michonne.

Rick moving through tent city. Anne and Gabriel are hanging out in a tent, Arat and Laura the Saviors are being Sapphic, this shot of Rosita’s butt in these leggings made me gay:

JERRY AND NABILA!!! PURE!!! WHOLESOME!!! INVENTED LOVE!!!

Daryl punches Zach McGowan so hard he goes flying back into a tree. Carol emerges from the tent where Ezekiel was going down on her for hours last night (same gray shirt as when she was cuddling him by the fire) and tells him to stop beating up Captain Vane. Daryl does not stop, instead he picks up a frying pan and bashes him over the head with it.

Daryl VO talking about how back when they were a small group they could do anything. Badass guitar music kicks in. King Rick and Queen Michonne riding through Hilltop looking badass AF. Maggie in the same white button up looking Done and grabbing a wicked looking crowbar. Carol in her gray shirt walking through the woods with a knife raised. Daryl on his bike wearing his boyfriend’s bandana and throwing spears at walkers.  Construction site lets loose a stack of logs to roll over some walkers. Rick fighting walkers at the site, in the background are Father G and Anne, Sydney, and Laura the Savior.

Rickyll in a dark, candlelit room having a lovers’ spat. Henry gets in on the Captain Vane disrespect, using the sweet moves that Uncle Morgan taught him to beat his ass with a staff. An asshole Savior dares to lay his hands on Aaron. Wider shot of the same scene shows Daryl fighting Captain Vane right beside him.

Michonne looking radiant, saying that she doesn’t know if “they’re” ever going to forgive each other, followed by a shot of Richonne and Carzekiel walking through the Sanctuary. Spy pro-Negan graffiti. Guessing that Banksy prick is responsible. Asshole Savior who dared to harm Aaron is in a Mexican standoff with Carol. Jerry creeps in holding a gun to back her up. Rick looking pensive. Father G sees a drawing that Anne left him of what looks like the same woman implied to be his wife/GF in his introductory episode. Boots that look like Rick’s shown stumbling with blood dripping. Shot of Daryl sharpening his knife, and I wonder if there’s an in-unverse explanation for his BBH logo tattoo.

Negan continues to waste my and Rick’s time talking.

Shot of the collapsed bridge with the group on one side. Looks like it’s on the way to or from the capitol since they’re wearing the same clothes. Desus stand next to Richonne and Carzekiel. Anne looks creepy AF as she takes a helmet off a walker’s head. Enid looks worried. Arat and (maybe?) Captain Vane erect a crucified walker to act as a scarecrow. Eugene’s first appearance in the trailer, I did not miss him. Maggie and Jesus walk through Hilltop. The latter looks, like, distressingly beautiful. He’s been working out, you can tell, and it’s fucking glorious. Group at the museum, walkers, crossbows, etc.  Michonne at Casa Grimes looking at her sword. Tara looking through a pair of binoculars and giving a subtle middle-finger while doing so. Flock of crows taking off in a cornfield from Rick(?) and someone else. Daryl and Carol alone on a loading dock, she puts his head on his shoulder. I’m guessing this is when they have the teased convo about their relationship, and I’m hoping it’s based on comics!Rick and Michonne, where the former calls the latter his “best friend” and says he doesn’t want her to be miserable.

Bridge construction. Rick on his knees out of breath, while behind him group including Dianne, Jerry, Daryl (still dual wielding), Eugene, and Carol charges. Shot of Carol unholstering her gun while the Kingdom squad backs her up.  Anne on a walkie talkie with that damned helicopter in the background. Rickyl riding a motorcycle together. Shot of Alden, random Hilltopper, and Jesus looking solemn at Maggie under a scaffold. Spoilers say that the blacksmith Earl Sutton’s son is killed on the museum trip, Gregory gets him drunk and convinces him to attack Maggie, and when she finds out has him executed. Looks like Earl and Brett Butler’s character are there as well. Girl fight between Rosita and Laura. Ladies, just kiss it out.

Anne returns to her junk yard. Graffiti that reads “final warning”.  Aaron-attacking-asshole-Savior signs his own death warrant and holds Carol hostage at knife point. Rick and Daryl get off the bike. Daryl looks like he’s having a tantrum. Walkers. Sydney struggles with a walker while Daryl uses the sweet moves he learned from Jesus to take out two walkers with his knives. Walkers menace an unconscious Rick. Maggie fights Gregory.  Michonne takes out some walkers with the moonlight glinting off her AMAZING GUNS. More bickering Rickyl. Michonne finds what looks like Lucille but could be Rick’s mace.

MAGNA’S AMAZING GROUP OF LESBIANS Y’ALL. I CAN HARDLY CONTAIN MYSELF.

The token dude/honorary lesbian says he was a music teacher. Magna is hot AF and says she waited tables at a truck stop. Connie is a beautiful Deaf woman who communicates via ASL that she was a journalist. Her butch girlfriend interprets for her. Quick shot of Yumiko, she’s gorgeous. MAGNA’S AMAZING GROUP OF LESBIANS fights walkers and creeps into Casa Grimes.

Finally, Eugene and Rosita are running from a herd of walkers. They cover themselves in mud and lay still as they pass overhead. Hear a creepy voice whisper “Where are they?” Eugene looks like he just shat himself.

#long post #spoilers #mugsy liveblogs

[spockat]

Brotherhood:  Clocked

Clocked

The Finnerty reception is bustling, people are getting tipsier and some are getting drunk, including Kath’s husband Eddie … who noticed Kath’s and Michael’s not-so-subtle return from their parking lot tryst. Their quickie.

With Michael, Kath can reach a climax so fast. He’s just the right fit for her. She sits back down at the table, nervous about what Eddie might say to her, nervous about him yelling at her in front of everyone. Except when he drinks, Eddie is fairly even-tempered, but since Michael’s been back in Providence, he’s been on edge and easily upset … and drinking more than usual.

Kath, regretting her audaciousness, knows she just rubbed salt in the wound, but Michael … Eddie’s never made her starry-eyed. Eddie’s never left her breathless with desire. Being sexual with him is not easy, like it is with Michael. Eddie works really hard to please her, but she has to ask him for every little thing in bed. Michael just knows. (He should, they were together for years before he disappeared and Kath, wanting kids, settled for the nice, mostly dependable guy with a steady job.)

Oh no.

Unusually bold, Eddie Parry is striding over to the table where Michael and Freddie Cork are talking. He’s yelling, “Hey cocksucker!”  Michael and Freddie lift their heads and Michael turns curiously toward the voice. Michael neatly scotches Eddie’s first clumsy swing. He’s strong enough to grab Eddie by the back of his suit collar and put him down like a dog. He doesn’t even stand up to do it. “What’d I do?” he says to Freddie and the others. Eddie picks himself up from under Michael’s table. “My fuckin’ wife! My fuckin’ wife, Michael!” A few people look around toward the action, but it’s over quickly, and the center is Michael; Kath can see them virtually shrugging.

Kath looks on in embarrassment but can’t add to the too-public scene by trying to calm her husband, who is now dusting himself off, face bright red, and steaming for the bar. She’s schooling her expression to maintain some semblance of “cool,” but she can see judgmental glances coming her way. Not unusual. A lot of people classed her as “trash” when she and Michael were together (without benefit of clergy) before he left. They all knew, with or without proof, that he was worse than just a “bad boy.” Though you’d never know that from Rose Caffee. Her boy can do no wrong. So Rose hates Kath for making Michael look bad. What a laugh.

Michael will wait a few minutes before he looks her way; he won’t want to give Kath away completely and he’s in the middle of “business” discussions with Freddie Cork.

She’s not looking forward to being home with Eddie tonight. Shouting, threatened blows. Maybe actual blows this time, God. I deserve it. Tension so thick it sticks in her craw.

Stupid, stupid, stupid of her to screw Michael in his car, anybody could have seen them kissing in the parking lot and jumping into the car. She can’t resist Michael. He’s more of a man than Eddie any day, and it makes her wet just to think of him and his embrace, the sound of his deep raspy voice, his muscular – no, perfect – body, and … and. She’s helpless in his sharp blue gaze. To her, he’s perfect, and never mind the temper, as long as he doesn’t take it out on her (and he never has in his life, except for yelling and slamming doors, when they were living together). Well, once he put a fist through a wall, but that had nothing to do with Kath. That was “work.”

Hours later, Kath Parry is looking for Michael and Eddie outside in the dark. She’s worried. She’s checked everywhere, climbed the stairs to the loft above the reception hall, and even looked in the big storage shed. He has disappeared from the wedding reception, and Eddie has too. Maybe they went out to the parking lot.

Surely Eddie would not be able to hurt Michael, and surely Michael would not do harm to Eddie (well, maybe a punch in the face). Cuckolded him, yeah, but that’s on Kath.

In the parking lot, she sees a man walking quickly away, and hurries over to where light spills from a doorway. A tall figure is stretched out on the ground … dark liquid pooling around his head … she recognizes Michael and screams. Kneeling beside him she calls to him, “Michael! Can you hear me Michael? Michael!” and mindlessly chants, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” After a few seconds of this she fumble her cell phone out of her evening bag and dials 9-1-1.

“I’m sorry I don’t know the address,” she says, flummoxed by her own panic when the operator asks. “It’s a reception, a banquet hall …”

“ Rhodes,” a tall bystander supplies the name and kneels by Michael as well. He looks pretty steady, a take-charge type. Kath hands him her phone. She realizes it’s Tommy Caffee, who hasn’t looked at her once. He’s addressing the operator. “… No, we can’t turn him over to do CPR, there may be a spinal injury.”

“Oh Michael.” Weeping, Kath whispers to him and touches his head and the side of his face lightly with her hand. “Michael, it’s Kath, I’m here, I’m here by you, please stay, please don’t ….” Sticky, bloody, warm. My fault my fault my fault, Hail Mary Mother of God, the Lord is with thee, pray for us sinners now and in the hour of our death …

Rose Caffee is coming, oh God, Michael’s mother, she’s gonna have a fuckin’ cow and she looks drunk, oh shit.

Kath stands up, her peachy silk gown stained, dripping, clotting with Michael’s blood. “We called 9-1-1,” she says as Rose stumbles to kneel at Michael’s side. Rose pays her no mind, she’s weeping over her favorite son, Irish accent coming through as she croons, “My Michael, my son, my Michael, may God forgive whatever you’ve done in your life, I love you, it doesn’t matter what sins you’ve done, stay with us, oh please. I forgive you and God forgives you.” She looks up at Tommy, who’s handing the phone back to Kath. “Call a priest, Tommy.”

“As soon as I find out what hospital, Ma.”

Last rites, Kath thinks, going even deeper into panic.

A siren, getting closer, and soon, the sound of doors thrown open and a gurney drawn out and thrown onto its wheels. One EMT runs over, and glancing over Michael, shouts back to the truck, “We need a backboard and a neck brace and headblocks to protect his skull, the left occipital lobe’s bashed in.”

Bashed in, you don’t need a gun to kill somebody, oh Jesus Jesus. Michael has known this a long time, hasn’t he. He’s a bad man, but good to Kath, he loves her, and she loves him, and in spite of being a mother of two, she wants to be with Michael more than anything and now maybe she never will. Tears and snot stream down her face and she doesn’t want to leave, she wants to ride in the ambulance with him but Rose and Tommy Caffee stop her with cold looks.

“If it wasn’t for you, you slut, this wouldn’t have happened,” Rose hisses. “You left your husband no choice but to attack my son.”

Kath shakes her head, crying. “Eddie couldn’t have done this. Almost nobody could creep up on Michael like this.”

“Well we’ll just leave that to the police, won’t we,” Rose says in her superior tone of voice. Tommy glances at Kath with something like sympathy and takes Rose’s elbow as the EMTs work with Michael.

They’re being very careful with him, not rushing anything, a female paramedic holding his head in the proper relative position to his body as they roll him, gently sliding the board under him, aligning everything perfectly, and he’s on his back, the one paramedic still holding his head. They apply a stiff cervical collar to support his upper spine and skull, then position it and protect it with foam blocks, fixing him in position with a strap across his forehead. They strap his body into place on the backboard and the paramedic is flashing a light into his eyes. “One pupil fixed and dilated; the other’s reactive” and a bunch of other medical stuff, BP and so on. Moving swiftly they load Michael onto the gurney, then into the ambulance. Not a sound, not a grunt, not an exhale, not a groan, from Michael. He’s unconscious or worse. Kath’s heart is beating so loud she can hear it inside her head.

Kath is pacing nervously and wringing her hands. She’s always thought that was a stupid expression from old-fashioned novels, but she’s doing it, so it must be real. “What hospital?” she whispers to the nearest  tech, and the muscular EMT says, “Our Lady of Mercy.”

A crowd is starting to gather for the excitement announced by the siren, and some firemen and police from the Hill who were attending the reception are holding them back. Kath looks up and spots Eddie scanning for her. Fortunately she’s surrounded. Right now her blonde hair is like a flag in the darkness.

Tommy Caffee, like his brother, is a sharp observer, and while the EMTs are getting Michael set up in the ambulance, he sidles over to Kath with the long-suffering expression he’s always worn when dealing with Matters Michael. He murmurs, “Come by the hospital. Just sit somewhere away from us during the emergency room exams. I’ll let you know what’s going on with him.”

“Thank you Tommy,” Kath says, looking up, but Tommy has already moved on to take his mother’s arm to help her up into the ambulance.

Kath’s running for the car. She has to get to it before Eddie does, so she can be at the hospital for Michael.

A lapsed Catholic, like many people on the Hill, she prays all the way. She even remembers the Latin from Catholic school, Ave Maria, gratia plena, ora pro nobis ….

It’s hard to drive with tears streaming down her face, but Kath makes it to Guest Parking at the hospital and hurries in. The blood is stiffening the fabric of her dress, and she rushes, as fast as she can, to the waiting room in the ER. Her shoes are too high and she nearly slips on the shiny linoleum floor.

She wishes Rose wasn’t here, but she also knows how much Michael loves his mother. Kath ducks into a separate area as advised and is too nervous to occupy herself with anything but praying. She sees a priest heading for the ER where Michael is being worked on. God forgive me I’m a hypocrite and a sinner but please please please let Michael live, except for my kids (and Eddie) he means more to me than anything in this life, please God please. Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with the Thee, blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus, Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen ….

It’s amazing that in this time of trouble these prayers come back, these prayers she learned in Catholic school, and they’re soothing to Kath, even though she feels so hypocritical. Gentle Jesus, who cured the sick and laid a healing hand upon the lame, the blind and the handicapped, look with compassion upon Michael ... I know there’s more, forgive me, I’m a sinner, the worst of sinners, and Michael is, too ….

She prayed when she was twice in the pain of childbirth, then never went to church except to baptize them. Well I’m a hard case, like most of us on the Hill, but You still love us, right? Oh, God, I just want him to live, even if he never looks at me again. I bet Rose is praying her ass off right now and she never goes to church either.

A prayer to Saint Jude comes to her too, patron of impossible causes:

Oh Saint Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the traitor who delivered thy beloved Master to His enemies, your name … forgotten by many … the patron of hopeless cases. Pray for Michael who’s in such danger; make use … [oh how does it go?!] bring visible and speedy help where help … where help is despaired of. Please help in this great need, that we may receive the consolations of heaven in all these … tribulations? … oh help save Michael, and I will bless God with you and all … throughout eternity. I promise, O St. Jude, to be ever mindful of this great favor, I will never cease to honor you as my special, powerful patron, Amen.

She’s forgotten the exact wording but is sure Saint Jude and God don’t care, as long as she’s sincere. And Kath is probably more sincere right now than she has ever been in her life.

Michael, Michael, I can’t live anymore without you.

#michael caffee #kath parry #eddie parry #tommy caffee #rose caffee #Brotherhood #jason isaacs #Tina Benko

[sending-the-message]

About A Boy by rotinhellkevin

I’d like to preface this all by saying that Kevin is a fucking psychopath.

I loved Skye from the moment I met her. It was like my life had no color, none at all, until she walked in, and then suddenly everything felt fresh and bright and happy. My home life definitely wasn’t. Whenever my parents decided to actually be home, they were too busy screaming at each other or going over bills to bother with me. I didn’t care, though. I had Skye. We’d been best friends since seventh grade. She was my everything.

And then along came fucking Kevin. I didn’t like him, even before he weaseled his way into Skye’s life. There was always something… off about him. He couldn’t stand the fact that Skye had friends, people she was close with, people she trusted, besides him. I tried to convince Skye to break up with him, multiple times, but she would always brush it off, or waffle on it. Maybe I was being a bit nosy, but it was in her best interests! I was always the more mature one of the two of us, the more responsible one. Skye had a more… innocent outlook on life. She chose to believe the best in everyone. I knew better. I knew Kevin would hurt her, eventually.

Of course, I hadn’t counted on him hurting her physically. At most I thought he’d cheat, or cut her down with words, and then I’d have to resist the urge to say ‘I told you he was scum’ or worse, the urge to kiss her. I knew Skye knew I had feelings for her, but I think she thought it was just a cute phase, like I suddenly grow out of liking girls. Although, really, it was less ‘girls’ and more ‘just her’. I never so much as thought about anyone else. It was always Skye.

Anyways, it was a normal day during our sophomore year. Skye and Kevin were a couple, much to my disgust, but I at least tried to act polite, if distant, around him. Skye and I always came to school together on the bus, and every morning I had to look at Kevin’s smug fucking face during home room, pretending that I didn’t want to spit at him. He didn’t deserve her. We came up to the classroom door, Skye lit up like she always did at the sight of her asshole boyfriend, and I steeled myself for the usual bullshit.

And then a bucket full of water fell on her head. I don’t mean it soaked her, although that was clearly the intention. I mean the bucket didn’t flip, and all the weight of came slamming down onto her scalp. It was awful. She immediately crumpled to the ground, unconscious, gushing blood all over the wet floor. My ratty sneakers were completely ruined, but I didn’t care- all I cared about was helping her. I thought she was dead. I thought her psychotic boyfriend might have accidentally killed her right then and there, and for what? A stupid prank to humiliate me? What kind of nutjob even thought that way?

As I screamed at a passing student to call an ambulance and tried to staunch the flow of blood with one of my notebooks, Kevin came over, like he hadn’t just inadvertently assaulted his girlfriend, and tried to grab her hand or arm, crying and snotting like a baby. “What the fuck were you thinking, Kevin?” I demanded angrily.

All he could do was stutter and sob, about how he’d thought I’d be the one to come in the room first. What a pathetic piece of shit. He was only sorry he was going to get in trouble for this. He didn’t care about Skye. His only concern was his own skin. I saw Kevin for the monster he was right then and there. Furious, I shoved him away from her unconscious form and screamed for someone to come help us. Who knew what he’d try to pull next.

Luckily, the school security officer was nearby and came running in to help, almost slipping on the bloody floor, looking wildly between all of us. “He dropped a bucket full of water on her head!” I shrieked, pointing at Kevin, and he was led out still crying and sniffling and cursing me out. And that was the last I saw of him for the rest of the year, and for I hoped, the rest of my life.

Unfortunately, sometimes shit comes back up, even after you flush.

Kevin showed back up again junior year, after a suspension, probation, and a stint in juvie. Everyone knew what he’d done, and with the exception of some little scumbags who thought he was a martyr for shitty boyfriends everywhere, he was a social pariah, which, as far as I was concerned, he completely deserved. Skye had been permanently scarred from the ‘accident’, and while I thought she was as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so now due to all she’d overcome, she was still self-conscious about her scar.

Of course, as soon as he was back in school Kevin paid some freshman to hand Skye an obsessive note about how ‘sorry’ he was and how he hoped she could forgive him someday, or some shit like that. Nevermind that he probably would have thrown a block party if I’d been the one to get permanent brain damage from his dumbass prank. Skye was completely thrown off by the note, and I could just see all the emotions from the accident rushing back across her face. I was so incensed I tracked Kevin down during lunch, where he was eating alone like some school shooter, probably planning my murder.

I crumpled up the note in my hand and tossed it as his tray. “Skye doesn’t want to talk to you,” I snapped at him. “Leave her alone, creep.”

He just gave me a smug little look, like he knew he’d succeeded in worming his way back into our lives. “She’s more than capable of telling me that herself, so why don’t you fuck off, Amanda?” He even smiled at me!

I wanted to bash his head into his tray, but instead I steeled myself and calmly stated, “Okay, I will. But it’d be a shame if you violated your probation… psycho,” I muttered under my breath as I stalked away. He looked like he wanted to strangle me, when I glanced back at him, but I didn’t care. I just cared about keeping Skye safe, and away from him.

I was actually really worried when he showed up at our Fall Formal- all offense intended, he seemed like the type who’d consider smuggling a gun in and taking a few people (mainly me) out with him. Still, he at least looked somewhat stable, and spent most of the night lurking in a corner, probably drinking spiked punch to take the edge off, and who knew what else he’d taken beforehand.

Skye was my ‘unofficial’ date- my parents probably would have kicked me out if I seriously told them I was going to a dance with another girl. She didn’t want us to really ‘define it’, but she was certainly okay with slow-dancing with me. We wore matching blue dresses, and it was one of the best nights of my life, hands down. When I was with her, it was impossible to worry about anything else, even Kevin.

But when she decided to go talk to Kevin, the night came crashing down around me. I reluctantly agreed- it seemed like she just wanted some closure on her own terms, and warily accompanied over to where he was dancing. Of course he quickly roped her into dancing a few slow songs with him ‘as friends’, and while Skye looked a bit uncomfortable, I knew she probably didn’t want me making a scene, so I hung off to the side and kept a close eye on them, making sure he didn’t try anything, and ignoring the looks I got.

I even got drinks for when Kevin finally released her, and reluctantly handed him one as Skye made awkward small talk and sidled ever closer over to me. He seemed a bit out of it, like he really was drunk or high on something, and we made our escape then. Approximately three minutes later he got up, stumbling around like an idiot, and was met by the scowling security officer. He was fucking high, alright, on ketamine, and he had a shit ton of it in his locker as well. He even put it in the punch! Thank God Skye and I had stuck to water.

Kevin got arrested, obviously, and that was the last we heard of him… for a while. Skye and I got into our dream college, on scholarship, and for once everything seemed to be falling into place. We worked at the little cafe in the school bookstore in the winter of 2007, and one night while I was locking up I heard a scream from the alley next door.

Skye had just walked out there with the safe deposit bag, so I assumed she was getting mugged, or worse. I grabbed my pepper spray out of my purse and bolted outside, and I’d already kicked the guy in the groin before I realized it was Kevin. He looked like shit, and he smelled like beer, lots of it. He was drunk and ranting about how we’d ‘set him up’ and ‘ruined his life’. Honestly, I’m a tall woman, and fairly athletic, but Kevin wasn’t a small guy, and if he wanted to, could probably serious hurt both me and Skye, so I emptied the can into his face with no guilt whatsoever. He was completely shit-faced, and who knew what he would have done to Skye if I hadn’t been there. As he went down (like a bitch) I pulled Skye away from him, and we ran and locked ourselves into the shop to call the police.

Kevin went to ‘real jail’ this time, and while Skye and I recovered from the trauma of being, you know, stalked by her insane ex, I stewed. Kevin had almost ruined our lives multiple times now. We lived in fear of him some day popping back up again. I wasn’t going to stand for this shit. It was time for some payback.

So when we received word that he’d got out, three years later, I was waiting. And yeah, I catfished him. It was stupid of me, beyond stupid, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted him to suffer. I pretended to be Skye and reconnected with him on Facebook, let it develop into a bit of flirting, and then asked him to meet up at the park on a day where we’d be there. And of course, we happened to be there that day, and yeah, he freaked. But we were perfectly safe! It was a sunny afternoon, and plenty of witnesses to watch his meltdown and jump in before he could do anything.

Skye… wasn’t happy. Which, she had a right to be pissed. I was an idiot. But I didn’t… I didn’t think she’d declare what we had ‘over’ after that. She just… she just shut me out.

Several years went by, and Skye and I managed to work our way back into being at least friends, which I considered better than nothing. I knew I’d broken her trust, but it was nothing compared to what Kevin put us through! I just wished she could see that, that I’d done it out of misguided love for her, not because I ever wanted to see her hurt. But I knew better than to push her on it. Word around town was that Kevin was ‘on the straight and narrow’ and had made something of himself other than a criminal and stalker. He even had a girlfriend, some girl named Charlotte, who Skye was actually sort of friendly with.

I wanted nothing to do with any of it, of course… and then I started seeing Kevin everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. Post office, library, grocery store, parking lots, you name it, he was either there when I got there, or showed up just as I was leaving. To me, at least, it seemed obvious. It was all an act. He was psychotic and putting on a normal face to avert suspicion of his next move, which was probably, I figured, to kill me. I carried for self defense, so I was almost… I don’t know, welcoming of it. Let him break into my apartment some night and see what happened. I’d be doing everyone a favor, and Skye would finally see exactly how dangerous he really was.

But he didn’t go for me. He went for Skye. I got a call from her roommate that she was missing, that she’d never come home after going out with Charlotte, and I immediately knew what had happened. I got over to his and Charlotte’s place and jumped out of the car gun drawn as I warily stepped through the wide-open front door.

Skye was sobbing and screaming, a knife at her neck held by a manic looking Kevin. He was pale and covered in blood, presumably from Charlotte, who was on the floor, freshly dead. I looked to her to him to Skye in growing horror, gun still drawn on him. “Kevin,” I swallowed hard, trying to reason with this lunatic, “I’m the one who tricked you into meeting us at the park, I’m the one you should hurt… you- you always said you loved Skye more than anything, just let her go-,”

“You fucking bitch,” he snarled at me. “You thought you could take her from me, didn’t you? But I’m not letting you win. Not this time.”

“Don’t do this,” I pleaded with him, terrified any sudden move would send his knife right through Skye’s throat. “Skye, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry-,”

She tried to mouth something at me, maybe ‘it’s okay’ or ‘Amanda’, but I couldn’t make it out before Kevin’s knife was rammed into her neck. She made a choking sound as he let go of her with a triumphant, dazed look, like this wasn’t all quite real for him, and walked towards me, knife still raised.

I screamed in rage and fired off one shot as he charged, missing him, and his fist collided with my jaw, knocking me off my feet. I rolled over as soon as I hit the ground, dodging the knife, and dashed outside as the distant sound of sirens grew louder, the neighbors having obviously heard the screaming and gunshot. Staggering back onto the gravel driveway, I fired again at Kevin as he ran out of the house after me, just as the police pulled up.

Kevin claimed I shot Charlotte and stabbed Skye, and we’re both on house arrest while the police look for evidence, but the truth will out. Kevin is going away for a long, long time. And I’m going to be there at every parole meeting, just to remind myself that if not for him, Skye wouldn’t be in critical condition, Charlotte wouldn’t be dead, and I wouldn’t have had to write this whole thing just to prove my innocence. Kevin is and was the monster here. Not me. He deserves whatever hell he gets.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

[storytimecatb]

Another one done :) Warning: contains a brief violent scene against a woman, and slight racism. I'm of colour also, so I've just used a bit of what I experienced to help me write this. (I have trouble with these types of requests) So hopefully it's okay ❤ – You and Van were invited to a party at Bob’s new house in LA. The place was huge and you didn’t know half the people there. You held onto Van’s arm for the first little bit of the party. You both eventually branched off into different directions and began mingling. You found Bob’s girlfriend and hung out with her for a bit. She was slightly tan with long dark hair and dark brown eyes. She wore more makeup than she needed but still looked super pretty. Her and Bob were alike, they were both quiet. Bob was loud compared to her, but she was really nice. “You enjoying the party? It was Bob and Bondy’s idea to have one. I’m the designated driver, so you guys can get as drunk as you want. I’ll make sure everyone gets home safe.” She didn’t drink as much as the rest of you and was usually the DD. “Thanks D.” She looked distracted by a group of guys huddled “No problem,Y/N. What do you think they’re doing over there?” Van was suddenly beside you “Hey love!” you didn’t get a chance to answer Dayna, she walked off to check out the group. “Hey Van.” He had his arm around you and handed you a fresh drink “Wanna go see what’s going on?” It’s like he read your mind. “Yeah, Dayna went to see what’s going on. I’m a little curious now too.” You both walked toward the group of people, you had no idea who anyone of them were. Most of them were friends of friends, that you hadn’t been introduced to before. Not like it mattered, you probably wouldn’t see most of them after this anyway. As you got closer you could hear laughter from a man, and a few people telling him to leave or shut up. “They need to go back to their own country!..” someone yelled at the man calling him a “trump supporter”. It was a fitting insult for him, from what you heard him yelling about. You couldn’t see what was happening until you got to the front of the group. A man was drunk and ranting about how Mexicans shouldn’t be allowed in the US anymore. You weren’t the only Mexican there though, there were maybe four of you, quietly listening to this man complain. Bob and Bondy walked up beside you and Van “Who the fuck is this idiot? Hey mate! It’s time to go!” Bondy was infuriated and walked right up to the mans face. “You need to get the fuck out of here, we don’t tolerate that bullshit around here.” Bondy looked like he was ready to start bashing this guys head in, D jumped in. “Alright alright. Enough!” The man shoved her aside, it made you jump “HEY! Don’t touch her!” Van tried to hold your arm but you walked right into the middle of the chaos and straight to Dayna who was on the floor. Bob got right up in there “Who the fuck do you think you are?! Don’t fucking touch her like that, you piece of shit!” He was holding this guy by the front of his shirt. The man started laughing “Your friends with one of them?” He was looking directly at you and mimicking an accent. It didn’t sound anything like you at all, but it was still offensive. “They’re the ones who don’t need to be here! They’re the ones who need to go.” Van also got up in his face, he didn’t tolerate racism. Especially if it were aimed toward you “You prick! You don’t know shit..” He and Bob dragged this guy out the front door. You thought it was over, but Bob was still mad at him for pushing Dayna. He began pushing this guy around until he fell to the ground. Bob got right above him and began punching him. Van and Bondy pulled him off “Alright mate! He’s had enough.” Everyone got back inside, Van found out who the guy was. He was the boyfriend of a crew members sister. She was complaining about Bob beating him up. No one bothered listening , so she helped him into their car and sped off. The room was filled with a tension, Benji yelled out “shots!” The music started playing again and everyone slowly went back to normal. You and Dayna were sitting beside each other, “You alright,D?” She was waiting for Bob to calm down, he was sitting on a chair while Bondy gave him a shot of whatever alcohol he had trying to chill him out. Dayna was sitting there like she wasn’t just thrown to the ground “Yeah I’m fine. Are you okay? The guys a fucking jerk for saying all that shit.” Van had his arm around your waist “Everyone okay?” You weren’t bothered by the guys words, but more worried about if Dayna was hurt. She hit the floor hard when she was pushed. You reassured Van “I’m okay.” You looked back at Dayna “Are you sure you’re alright?” Bob stood up and held Dayna’s hand “Did he hurt you? You gonna be okay, D?” He had his other hand cupping her cheek, she gave him a small smile “I’m fine Bob. Did it really look that bad?” He gave her a big hug and kiss “It looked rough as hell, princess.” You, Van, Benji and Bondy sat out on the deck getting air. “Y/N, don’t worry about anything he said. It isn’t true.” You were very aware of that but thanked them anyways. Van continued asking if you were alright “Van I’m fine! It’s not the first time I’ve heard this shit before. Ive learnt to ignore it.” He nodded “Alright,sugar. Just double checking.” The party was coming to an end, most of the people left and it was eventually just you, Dayna and the boys. Bondy was hammered “What a fucking night!” Everyone but Dayna had drank to forget what happened. “Alright, Mr.Johnny Bond. It’s time to go home.” She helped him walk to her SUV, opened the door and he just fell in. He was long gone. Bob was no longer mad “I’ll come for a ride.” He got in the passenger seat. Benji was waiting for his cab, “I’ll see you guys later, cabs gonna be here soon.” Van and you got into the back seat of her car and Bondy sat between you both. You made sure he was strapped in and not falling all over the back seat. “Whose place is closest? Bond’s right?” Dayna was trying to make sure she knew where everyone was going. He was was staying at a friends about 20 minutes away. “I’ll drop you two off after I drive him.” You gave her a smile “Thanks for driving us!” Bob looked back at the three of you and laughed at Bondy. “He’s absolutely pissed.” You were pretty drunk and Van was almost as drunk as Bondy was. “Thank god for your amazing girlfriend! Dayna, you’re great. Bob, mate. You couldn’t have picked a better woman, Dayna you’re great.” You laughed at Vans drunken blabber, “You need sleep, babe.” He looked at you and held your hand over Bondy’s drunken body “Y/N, your accents beautiful babe. Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck anyone who doesn’t think so. I love you alright?” He was so out of it, but trying to be sweet. All you could do was laugh and accept his kindness “Thanks Van, for your comforting words.” He made a clicking sound “Anytime babe!” Dayna and Bob were giggling at you two, Bondy woke up “Are we all holding hands?” He placed his hand on top of you and Van’s. At this point Bob couldn’t hold in his laughter “All of you are pissed!” Everyone was laughing. The car pulled up as close as it could get to the front door of Bondy’s friend’s. “Okay, let’s get the drunken loon inside.” Van and Bob carried him in, and were back in the car. “Alright, only a 30 minute drive now and you two are home.” Dayna backed out and started driving again. Van fell asleep 5 minutes in. “Y/N, you want a water? We have a couple bottles up here.” He handed two bottles back, for you and Van. You were sipping on water when Van woke up “Shit, are we there now?” You gave him water “Maybe another 15.” He took a big gulp of water “fuuuuuuuck, alright then.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and whispered to you “I meant it. You’re accents gorgeous.” You could see that he was sobering up a bit. He grabbed your hand and rubbed the top of it with his thumb “Thank you.” The rest of the ride was silent. Everyone was listening to the radio minding their own business. “Okaaaaay, here!” You realized the car was sitting outside your place “Thanks for driving us home, D. I’ll be back tomorrow to get the car. Goodnight guys!” Van helped you out, gave them a small wave “Night.” They waved back, while backing out. Dayna yelled out the window “See youse tomorrow!” You both stumbled through the door, you sent Van to bed and got two glasses of water for the morning. When you got to the room Van was already crashed, so you put the glass on his night stand. “Goodnight, love.” You kissed his forehead, he mumbled something that sounded like ‘I love you’ and gave you a small kiss. Whatever bullshit happened tonight didn’t matter anymore, you had each other to depend on and take care of one another. That was enough to let you know everything was and would always be alright.

#request #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #johnny bond #bob hall #benji blakeway #fanfic #short stories

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #39: Traffic.

Written: 2/7/2017

The problem with his car’s air conditioner was that when it was at a full stop, even if the engine was running, it hardly even worked, so longer stops would let the car fill up with heat. If he was driving, it would blast cool air and he would be in heaven, even on the hottest days of the year. He could be driving around in Death Valley in the middle of the day and he would have to wear a jacket. However, days like these when he became stuck in a static river of cars, only moving an inch every minute, unable to see what’s causing the jam, unable to back out because there’s another endless line of cars behind him, well, its like sitting in hell.

Most of the time he was a well tempered man, and even though his inner monologue might be labeled-by some-as psychotic, he was able to keep it away from his surface, buried under layers and layers of manners, smiles, and a general, faked attitude of a boy scout. There were only two conditions where his-

Honking his horn several times, he yelled at the cars in front of him, “What the fuck is the hold up? Get moving or I’ll go up there and make you move myself!” Rubbing his temple with his right hand, he could feel sweat starting to form a thick layer on his forehead. It felt disgusting, it made him feel disgusting, and it made him start to hate himself for being so disgusting, then he started to hate the traffic jam for putting him in this heat, then he hated his car for not working in this one scenario, and he hated himself for never getting this fixed, etc. This flowing of shifting hate happened within the first  three seconds after he felt the cold sweat on his hand, and started to feel his hair getting wet. Clenching the sweaty hand into a fist, he started to punch the horn repeatedly, to vent his anger and to make that anger audible enough for the people in traffic to hear. “God fucking damn it.”

He wasn’t very eloquent, but he spoke from the heart.

“Sons of bitches making me wait in this god damned heat, I’m going to melt before we go anywhere. Motherfucking lousy pieces of human-”

There were only two conditions where his outer self would reflect the inner, and these were: liquor and heat. Liquor straight up made him stop caring about putting on any heirs, and he just became an aggressive asshole, which has cost him two marriages, three promising careers, $17,867 in legal fees, the tip of his left pinkie, and his prized firebird that he bought with saved up paychecks from his first job. After all this, he had decided to quit drinking, and became a regular in AA. It has also given him a reason, on the inside, to feel moral superiority towards people, because he had overcome the obstacles in his life, paid the price, and was now a well-functioning and well-meaning member of society who often helped the commun-

"-foot down your lousy throats until all that’s left is the dust from your fucking teeth.” A small gap formed in front of him and he inched forwards, but it wasn’t enough to cool him down a little bit. Beads of sweat were now starting to drip down his face, his underwear was soaked and mushy enough to make him fell like he shit himself, his hands got to the point of shaking but he couldn’t grip the steering wheel to calm them since it had become way too hot, and his tongue became dry enough for him to routinely lick the sweat from his upper lips. More than anything, he needed a distraction from the heat to keep himself in check, a lot of people in nearby cars were either shooting him worried looks or refusing to look at him, and having to keep his windows rolled down didn’t help muffle the sounds of his outbursts. Figuring it was the best he could do, he switched the radio on, closed his eyes, and tried to get lost in the sound of the music. Normally he hated the song that was playing, it was just some mass manufactured song about an image of love that didn’t exist (in reality it was a very realistic and honest song, he just had very little understanding of what love actually was, and was like this with basically every human feeling other than anger), but on that day it was a life saver.

-community by organizing and helping fund raisers, community projects, volunteering at old folks homes, clinics, pounds, etc. Most people, due not only to his charitable spirit and refusal to drink or swear, but also to his looks, would often mistake him as being Mormon. He would have to correct them a lot, but even family members and close friends would often forget that he wasn’t. If you saw him on the street, and somebody pointed at you, asked you to describe him, there is a 95% chance that you would, at some point in the description, use the word Mormon. He only started to give off that vibe after his 10 year drinking binge, after he cut off most of his hair, adopting a clean shaven face and a short, neat hairstyle, and mainly wore short sleeved button ups. It never really bothered him, though, because people just naturally thought that he would be a good person, and it made pretending even easier.

The song slowly faded out, and then several air horns blasted, ushering in the arrival of the radio’s DJ, some guy with a forgettable name and a voice that sounded like every other radio DJ out there. “Man, its a hot one out there isn’t it folks? I swear, we haven’t had heat like this since our basketball team played Miami.” He quickly switched the radio off, not just because the mention of heat had brought him out of his neutral state, but because of that lazy joke. He was too on edge to have to suffer through bullshit like that.

He could feel his hairline start to feel very damp, beads of sweat started to roll down his face, he ran his left hand through his hair and it was all soaking wet. Traffic had still not done very much to move, and he started to get a headache. “The fucks going on, get moving you god damned retards!” His whole body shook as he said that, and it may have been a little excessive, could’ve been described as a tantrum, but it was tranquil compared to what was happening on the inside, which was starting to work its way up and out.

On the inside, he was thinking: I should just fucking gas it and hit this mother fucker in front of me, and if I drive over his car good, hopefully the fucker gets crushed, but if I can’t then its good to fuck up his bumper anyhow. I should just fuckin keep driving back and forth, fuck everyone’s cars up. Why is that kid fucking staring at me? I should give that cock sucker something to stare at, punch through the window and drag him out of that shit heap, bash his face into the asphalt until all that’s left is a pool of blood, teeth, and whatever used to be his face. Tell his parents over there, “Looks like your going to have to get a new one. Next time get one that will actually become an adult instead of dying like a fucking pussy.” You know who the real pussy is, that husband with his fucking glasses, the way he keeps trying to tell his kid to not stare back at me. I should pull him out, put his head under the tire of my car, then drive baby drive, show him the weight of a real man. Show his wife the weight of a real man, I’d show her- (here it gets really disgusting, so lets skip ahead a bit) -and after her her mascara is running, and she can’t talk with all of that glass in her mouth, but she keeps trying to beg to let her go, I’ll drag her over to that puddle of her kids face and force her head down, let that bitch drown- Oh, we’re moving again, about fucking time. Its so fucking hot in here I need to take this piece of shit to the mechanic, tell that motherfucker- and so on.

His clothes started to cling to him, they were way too damp, and he wanted to strip out of those disgusting clothes when he got home, but he didn’t know when that would be. The worst part about all of the sweat was it made him focus on the heat, every move, or even just when he sat still, there was now no way to ignore it. There was still no sign of an end to the traffic jam, and plenty of cars were beginning to rapidly honk their horns, showing a communal anger. It was hard for him to not join in on this, and when he finally gave in he was pissed by how hot the wheel had been, the metal logo on the center almost burned him.

Since he couldn’t stop wondering what the cause of the jam was, and he couldn’t stop saying random swear words every 3 seconds, leaving him to sit in the car, twitching, saying “Piss. Fuck. Ass. Bitch. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Damn”, etc, he finally got the bright idea to check his phone, see what the cause was, and hopefully clear his mind. The best facial expression he could maintain was a scowl, and not one that said “I’m reasonably annoyed at these circumstances”, instead it said something along the lines of “Make eye contact with me and I’ll snap”. This expression only got worse when a news feed finally showed him the source of the hold up: a celebrity, some actor he never heard about, signing autographs in front of the mall, causing some drivers to leave their cars so they could score quick signatures. He couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make any sense. It was irrational.

Since it was an irrational situation, he could find no reason to maintain any sense of faked rationality.

Three images flashed in his mind:

1. The view he had when his firebird was overturned, and he was sitting upside down, belted in, with one eye unable to open. At this moment he was close to being black out drunk, but since he was still conscious he considered himself in the “safe zone”. He was looking at the passenger seat, and could see his wife (now ex-wife) grabbing at her throat, frantic, trying to stop the bleeding caused by, what he later found out to be, a beer bottle that had smashed when they fell into the ditch. The moonlight that poured in was actually beautiful, and gave an unreal quality to the scene.

2. Him standing in front of the AA, all of the alcoholics watching him, accepting his two-year chip, even though he had relapsed three times within that timespan. Lies aside, that moment gave him the most confidence he ever had.

3. A dog he had, golden retriever, running through a sunny field, chasing after a stick he had thrown for it. He wasn’t aware that this was actually a scene from a movie that he saw, years ago, and confused this as a moment of his childhood innocence, a simpler world that didn’t exist anymore, and was the opposite of this hellish place he currently inhabited.

Quickly, he reached to the side of his seat and pulled a lever to pop open his trunk. He quickly his car, walked around to the back, and found the little league equipment that he had stored in there. Before he grabbed anything, he had to peel his shirt off of him, he couldn’t stand the feel of sweat any longer, and he threw it behind him, directed at the long line of traffic, no specific car in mind. His phone started to vibrate, he was getting a call, and he disposed of it in the same fashion. Looking at the equipment in front of him, he decided to pull out an aluminum bat, didn’t bother to close the trunk, and then started to wander around the rows of cars, daring somebody to piss him off.

First, he went to the car of that family that he fantasized about, but none of them would even look in his direction. He deemed them too boring to rough up. This became a pattern with any of the cars that he approached, and he realized that these people had all seen his furious outbursts, and were probably already scared of him, none of them daring to pick a fight or cause trouble. So, naturally, he stepped onto the car in front of him, walked over it, and kept walking down the endless line of cars, hoping that somebody would make the mistake of yelling at him, honking their horns, or even making eye contact. It was a long walk before anybody gave him a reason, and he had almost gotten until the mall, seeing the end of traffic ahead of him.

He started to believe that nobody was going to bother to make trouble with him, their cars were all probably air conditioned and some didn’t notice. His main plan, after two miles, was to just fuck up the celebrity who was causing this situation in the first place, but as he was about to step onto the roof of a navy blue convertible a man quickly got out of the car, some older guy wearing a polo that matched the car’s color, black slacks, sunglasses, and had short and well groomed, salt and pepper hair, tried to convince him not to step on the roof of his car, since it wouldn’t hold up under his weight. This guy wasn’t able to talk for long until before the bat was able to shut him up, and his attacker almost felt bad for the old guy, almost, because of how easily it was to break his glasses, have the man fall to the ground, a couple teeth landing before him, and to send him into unconsciousness.

It was also a little disappointing because he wanted the guy to put up a fight, he wanted to give a couple more swings, but it was over so quickly.

In search of a better way to vent his anger, he continued down the line of cars, or at least that was his plan. When he stepped onto the roof of the convertible his legs almost immediately fell through, and he was stuck. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get himself free, so he stood there, wiggling, screaming, baking in the sun, for almost an hour. Somebody tried to help the unconscious man, but when they approached they were almost hit by the bat, so they decided it wasn’t worth it, went back to their car, and decided to call an ambulance, which was unable to arrive due to the traffic. Most people didn’t know how to react to the situation, so they just ignored it, didn’t look at it, and continued to go on with their little activities they did to stave off the boredom of waiting in traffic.

“Fucking god.. Mother. AHAH. NO NO AHAAAHAH… GOD FUCKING PANSY AHHAHA!!” This was the basic gist of what the man screamed as he tried to break free, his skin slowly burning, turning a dark red that started to enhance his anger, both inside and out.

A couple cars down, a college aged kid got onto the roof of his car and started to mimic the trapped man, successfully getting a couple of laughs, and this only further enraged the burning Mormon. Not only because he was being mocked while in an enraged state, but also because he couldn’t attack the guy, or even turn around to see him. He wanted to throw his bat, but he decided to clutch onto it just in case anybody decided to come by, so he could take a swing at him.

At one point the guy was able to find the steering wheel with his right foot, and was able to honk the horn by kicking it, trying to use this to enhance his cries, hoping it would make him more intimidating. Nobody cared, the guy mimicking him eventually got bored and ceased, and his foot became tired from repeated kicking and heat exhaustion. He started to cry from the anger. As the tears kept coming, he stopped thrashing, relaxed, and just became a sobbing mess. He was so focused on crying that he didn’t even notice when he started to pass out.

Waking up in a hospital bed, handcuffed to the metal railing at the side, was confusing for him, but even though it hurt like hell to move an inch, he now felt pretty relaxed. He tried turning his head to look around the room, but it hurt too much, so he just stared at the wall in front of him. Since the pain forced him to stay still, he was able to remain calm and force his inner thoughts back to where they belonged, and by the time a nurse came in to check on him he was his old, fake, smiling self.

The nurse explained that the handcuffs were just a safety precaution, since he’d gone mad from the heat, and she asked if he could remember anything before leaving his car.

He wasn’t aware until much later of the officer in the room, who was the actual person talking, the nurse was just the only person he could see.

He lied and said he didn’t.

Somebody put his bat on his lap, and he put enough effort to look down at it to see that somebody had autographed it, but he didn’t know who.

#Well Meaning Shut In #Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #psychotic #February