dark! pete also entails him bragging and boasting with a snarl on his face to vegas, hell, to anyone and everyone, about how he owns vegas. how he owns seeing vegas. how he owns the fact that he knows exactly and precisely how to break vegas completely, and piece him back together again. how he owns the power and control he has over knowing that vegas will come back to him, every single time. how he owns vegas' firsts - the surrendering to pete, being his first true earth shattering life changing love, the admission to pete that he has nothing and is nothing, the self-loathing and the violence he inflicts upon himself. how pete owns the fact that he has sacrificed for vegas and no one has the fucking right to diminish or belittle or overshadow those sacrifices. he owns killing for vegas. he owns taking from vegas, selfishly. he owns being able to make vegas kneel on the ground for him.

oh, its so much fun for pete to go from looking like this doe-eyed, boyish, sweetheart to looking at anyone, including vegas, with a gaze so harrowing as this ferocious beast from inside him rears its head, as he declares his ownership of vegas.

that, yeah, pete's body, with all its pretty bruises and marks and scars that vegas leaves on him make it seem that its vegas who owns pete, to anyone who looks. and pete doesn't dispute that - wanting to be owned by vegas, because pete loves being owned by him in a way that he can drop the sweetheart look completely, and vegas won't find him a freak and run away. but pete isn't a pushover. all it takes is for the look in his eyes to shift to something so bone chilling that it makes vegas' blood run cold when pete looks at him like that, yet it turns vegas on and makes him weak for pete at the very same time.

because vegas? loves being owned by pete, just the same.

‘why’ part 2, miya atsumu.

wc : 1.6k

warnings : post break up themes, implications of toxic relationship, cheating.

part 1

it had been a year, yes, an entire year had passed and yet miya atsumu still couldn’t get his mind off of you, in fact, it seemed to get worse as time progressed. the thought of you not being here by his side was suddenly becoming a reality and it took his mind by a sickening storm. initially, he believed that you’d come back and he’d get the chance to sort out the entire situation, perhaps beg for your forgiveness and give you the speech he had been practicing for the past months that would guarantee the two of you getting back together.

he made sure to change the locks of what used to be your shared apartment just to make sure if you had come by to get the rest of your stuff you wouldn’t be able to get inside unless he was home. he took almost all the extra precautions necessary and he had the upmost faith that you be back in his arms soon enough. and when you were, he swore to himself that he would never let you go. he had it all planned out, the two of you would settle down together and have a beautiful family, all his past digressions would be forgotten.

it had even become so bad to the point where he had begun skipping out practices, babbling to his teammates about how “y/n might come back today!”. they would all shoot him sympathetic glances at his words knowing that even though he was too blind to see it you would be the biggest fool to come crawling back and therefore, it would never happen.

it took osamu talking some harsh sense into him much to bokuto and hinata’s dismay to get him to understand the severity of the entire situation.

“you do realise you cheated on her? over and over again, why would she come back? be realistic, you two are over and you’ll probably never see her again, it’s been months.” atsumu glanced up at his brothers harsh words but chose to disregard them. “you’ll see, you’ll all see.”

but the day never came, he never heard your light knock on the door, the clicking of your heels as you walked into your shared apartment, the smile that etched your lips as you locked eyes with him, your laugh that echoed throughout the living-room when he told a joke that he knew you’d find funny. and he missed all those things with his entire heart, it was from then on he understood that you were irreplaceable.

looking back on it he couldn’t believe how he had made you feel, he wondered how long you had known, how many nights did you cry alone knowing that he was lying to you? how hard was it to pretend that everything was alright because you wanted to hold on to your relationship with him more than anything? how long did you believe that it was going to be possible to fix things? why did you give up…?

“don’t you think you're becoming a little too obsessed?” his brother asked the day he proposed hiring a private investigator to find out where you’d gone off to. even though he respected your privacy it was hard knowing nothing about your current situation or at the very least, if you were alright. all of your friends had disconnected from him and you had completely ceased speaking to his, even your parents were no longer anywhere to be found. more than anything he just wanted to know that you were alive and okay.

“she’s probably fine and is doing better off now.” his twin assured him, but those words didn’t have the comfort that was intended. better off? he thought to himself. but the two of you had promised to always love each other, he’d even given you a ring for God’s sake, how could you be better off? how could you function? why weren’t you broken the way he was? were you not searching for him too? you knew exactly where to find him if you wanted to, maybe, you just didn’t care and atsumu couldn’t bear the thought of it.

and maybe, that’s what led him to a late night walk at 11pm in the midst of the night to clear his head. he knew he didn’t deserve you but that didn’t mean he could live without you. he knew what he needed to do and he was willing to go to any lengths to do it, to be better for you, and to be loved by you once again, and in return he’d be the perfect boyfriend and this time he’d keep his promise, this time you’d keep the ring on.

the frosty air of the midnight streets prickled against his skin but it was nothing compared to the feeling of emptiness that was left inside him from the moment you were gone, it was almost as if he was immune to everything, he was completely numb and it was even beginning to worry those who were closest to him. even osamu had stated he’d never seen his twin brother this depressed in his entire life, and what was worse is that he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

atsumu was only pulled out of his thoughts by the dim light radiating from a corner store, the crimson neon sign that echoed ‘open’ was slowly dying out but he paid no attention to it as he pushed open the door, becoming engulfed in the warm atmosphere that originated from the artificial heaters. he sighed to himself rubbing his palm together in a pathetic attempt to create friction and that’s when he felt it. a thud in the side of his shoulder followed by rattling of various products hitting the floor.

“my bad, let me help you there.” he watched as the figure before him froze at the sound of his voice and he couldn't believe he didn’t notice at first. even though your hat was gracefully hiding your face he should’ve known at the familiar scent of your perfume.

“y/n?” his voice was unsteady even though he’d imagined this moment countless times. he had an entire speech prepared for you, what was he going to say again? he couldn’t recall, his mind went blank at the sight of you and by the way you still hadn’t moved, not even to look up at him told that you had almost the same reaction, except the feelings that erupted in your chests were entirely different. atsumu was blinded by love and you on the other hand, hate. you were on two opposite ends of the spectrum but that was something your ex-boyfriend refused to acknowledge.

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you, i can’t believe you’re here, did you come back for me? i’ve been wa—“

his voice was cut off by a man who turned the corner to see you collecting items off the ground. “babe, are you okay?” he rushed to your side to assist you.

babe? atsumu thought to himself, maybe he has the wrong person, yes definitely, this man must be confused. he’s probably mistaken you for someone else since you’re wearing that pesky hat, afterall it does make it hard to see your true identity. what a fool, he had half the mind to shoo him away since he was bothering you—

“yeah i’m fine.” you responded turning to face the male with a smile and there it was .. the feeling of his heart clenching when you looked up at him for a brief second as if he wasn’t even important to you. this wasn’t how he imagined this to go, and who the hell is this porcupine getting all handsy with you? and why are you responding to him? there’s no way.. it couldn’t be..

“y/n is this a friend of yours?” the man stopped shooting atsumu a handsome smile, the male’s build wasn’t much different from his own and he could tell that he was in athletics of some type. his demeanor wasn’t necessarily friendly per se, instead it he held an air of indifference around him. if he hadn’t just seen him getting all smitten with you there was no doubt it would be hard for him to imagine it.

“no hajime.” atsumu snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice, it was still like a drug to him and he hated the way it was saying someone elses name and not his. you had no idea of the things he would do just to get you to say you loved him again, he wanted to hear it out of that beautiful mouth of yours accompanied by your pretty voice.

“he’s nobody.” you gave him one more glance and he noticed that there was an unrecognisable look in your eye. it was so cold and uncaring that it took him a while to process your words as the two of them barged past him.

he’s nobody? what are you saying? did you not recognise him? no .. of course you did he looked the exact same, so why would you say that? and that was the moment his whole life shattered before him. the moment he watched you walk out of the store, hand in hand with the man next to you, a smile beaming on your face, eyes full of love that used to be directed at him and he couldn’t help but stare even though it pained him more than anything he’d ever felt in his life.

the last time miya atsumu cried this hard was when he was six years old, but this day had beaten it by a landslide.

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

OPM Revised Manga chapters 99 - 100 Review: Not today, Satan

Hoo hoo hoo.  When Murata said he had a bit of work to do for the volume, we had no idea just how extensive it was!   There isn’t a single chapter appearing in volume 22 that hasn’t been edited or reworked.  And the mighty struggle between Child Emperor and Phoenixman has changed unrecognisably!  Shall we go?

A bit of a difference, yes

Story: forget what you thought you knew

The first change comes nearly right away.  Rather than leaving Waganma behind, Child Emperor keeps him in Brave Giant’s backpack, freeing both hands to fight.   The fight between Phoenixman and Brave Giant is interesting, but it’s much lighter going than before  for a very specific reason: the monster sees a connection between himself and Child Emperor and is hoping to keep the costume the hero is wearing intact so he can recruit a fellow costumed monster.

And now it gets freaky.  Phoenixman can summon another costume-wearer to a timeless spiritual space in which they can talk.  Don’t ask me how!   Phoenixman latches onto Child Emperor’s desire to find someplace where he’s trusted and his efforts are appreciated right away,  coming terrifyingly close to converting him into a monster -- until he harshes the vibe with a terrible name for the monster he’d like Child Emperor to become.  It made my skin crawl, how close he came.

what a terrifying monster!  Had he stopped speaking with the above words, he’d have created a monster indeed!

They resume fighting, and eventually Child Emperor smashes him through the floor as in the previous versions, which doesn’t have the effect of killing him so he can reincarnate.  Instead, it ‘just’ launches them both through several floors, through the lake of death, and down lower still. The water sweeps Saitama along as well, and all of them fetch up in a charnel house, where all the dead Subterraneans have ended up.

Phoenixman makes a second attempt to persuade Child Emperor. This time he gets closer, sowing seeds of doubt about the goodness of the Hero Association higher-ups into Child Emperor’s head quite directly -- there’s no need for them to talk.  Whatever it is he reveals to the boy, it is quite grisly.  Thankfully, the spell is broken by Saitama who just bashes into their spiritual realm to declare his disapproval of what the monster is doing, which breaks the spell.

no traumatising children on my watch!  Trouble is, Child Emperor isn’t going to forget whatever it is that he’s been told -- this is going to be trouble later.

Just as they snap back to the real world, another wonderful intervention occurs.  Zombieman calls, ostensibly to tell Child Emperor about his speculation about the possibility of the Monster Association using the Metal Knight to build robots of their own proving right,  but really to thank and encourage him.  Giving him the very thing he’d been so desperate to hear from the start.

Since he’d been unable to persuade Child Emperor to turn into a monster spontaneously, Phoenixman tried the other way: by dropping a monster cell into the machine so that all the boy had to do would be to take a bite. It’s a good thing that monster cells cannot work unless they’re consumed of one’s own free will.   Despite the pressure being applied to him by the monster cell trying to crawl into his mouth,  the zombies trying to tear Brave Giant apart, and Brave Giant’s own time limit,  Child Emperor holds firm and finds at heart what’s really important: that heroism is an inner quality, not an external one.

And then the true nature of Phoenixman comes out:

don’t be fooled: you can only trust a monster to be a monster

In keeping with his inner self-reliance, Child Emperor destroys Brave Giant himself, immolating the zombies along with it.  Phoenixman tries to take advantage of the situation to kill Child Emperor, being fouled by Saitama long enough for the kid to slip a ticklebug into his costume.

I totally wasn’t expecting this to happen as a result!

the most pathetic monster ever -- please nobody kill him in case he can resurrect stronger

I was irrationally pleased to see Underdogman 24 come find his master, still functional enough to get them out of there (with a subtle push from Saitama).  On we go!

Okay, Saitama will be back soon to find where the rude monster that tried to grab them en route came from.  He still needs to find those noisy neighbours! 

Meta: Not today, Satan

I get two big things out of this story.

First, at the beginning of the year, I mused that OPM wasn’t at heart a battle manga.  Rather, it was a manga that had battles (link).  Core is the relationship between the small jihad (the struggle against external enemies) and the big jihad (the struggle with oneself to be a better person and lead a good life). I’d used Saitama as the examplar of this struggle.

I was a bit (a lot) confused by the changes at first, but I think that fundamentally,  the changes are so as to come back to that important inner struggle that so much of OPM is about.

I thought that Child Emperor's struggle is appropriate to a ten-year old. He's old enough not to have blind faith in adults, but young enough to really need good, reliable ones around and to know that his efforts are truly appreciated.  It’s been an issue for several chapters now: right from the first time we saw Child Emperor, being told he was still a child was a great way to piss him off.

Phoenixman sensing that, worked so beautifully and sweetly on his insecurities that he seemed almost a friend.  Surely no one could resist...

Thankfully, Child Emperor does have good adults in his life, ones who show up when most needed.  Saitama shows up in the spiritual world when Child Emperor feels most cornered by Phoenixman’s spiel and lets him know that he sees what’s happening and it’s not okay for Phoenixman to be pressuring a child so -- giving him strength to resist without taking the struggle away from him.  Zombieman called to thank him, and let him know that his efforts were seen and appreciated.  Reminding him too, that there were adults he looked up to.  It’s so awesome to see that even though he’s blindingly smart, Child Emperor still has some things he aspires to be.

ah, how much your divinely-timed words meant, Zombieman!

Previously, Phoenixman had been mocking Child Emperor for being a kid, for being misled by the adults,  and had been fascinated by the possibility that he too could get stuck in his costume, but those were secondary themes against a backdrop of the terror of an ever-growing monster that just would not die. Fortunately, this rewrite, Child Emperor could only push Phoenixman to the point of death that first time, so he never got access to those bigger, scarier forms and thus the fight to keep one’s soul human could take primacy.

Too, I think that Saitama’s presence, lending the boy hero a subtle hand when he most needs it, was very important in grounding the story.   Rather than being an all-but-perfect person who already had all the answers and has all the toys needed to enact them, Child Emperor may still need a hand, without it being a discredit in any way to his intelligence, determination, courage, or inventiveness. The threat posed to him by Phoenixman is just that potent.

whoops, can’t let you do that -- you won’t be eviscerating children on my watch

Second, the story has gone almost Buddhist about the sin of attachment.  So many monsters are about the thing they're obsessed with.  Even if it's a good thing (like justice -- eh, Amai Mask?), that attachment is what warps them.  Phoenixman refusing to take off his Birdbrain costume because he was so invested in the character he couldn't accept it was over, literally refusing to take it off even if it killed him.

It's putting into context the thing I intuited about monsters (link) -- that they get rid of conflict and regret.  It feels good to be a monster. Being human means feeling the pain, the regret, the conflict, accepting loss, and moving on.  Monsters don’t have to do that.  They get to get all that they want, at the expense of their humanity.

unhealthy attachment -- literally

Other Business

1. The Monster Association really does have scientists.  Whether with Machine God G5′s help or not, they’ve wasted no time in finding out how to make Metal Knight-based robots.  Thankfully, they’ve also copied the machine’s weak spots and don’t seem to have the super-resistant materials the original would be made of.  Still... that’s worrying.  Are the minds and hands that worked on this really dead?  What else have they learned?

2. It was so wholesome to see Saitama provide support and encouragement to Child Emperor, stepping in whenever the boy was about to be overcome but otherwise letting him use his wits and courage to deal with the situation.  How I wish he’d do so for his disciple!  It’d mean so much!  Even if it’s just to give an encouraging smile.

3. It took me a couple of rereads to see it, but the ninja duo have been strapped to the side of Underdogman 24.  Saitama means to collect this bounty! More bbq meat for him.

4. Gosh, it’s going to be positively crowded at the surface!  We’ll have two evil ex-zombie monster ninjas, the support heroes, Waganma, Child Emperor, Saitama, the mercenaries and the disciples all having a fresh air party.   Doubtless various people will be departing for various locations soon enough, but this should be a fun mix.  

5. Saitama is so absurdly over-powerful that even when he does his thing right in front of people, they can’t understand what happened.  No wonder he gets no credit.

6. I really, really, really appreciate getting to see more of Waganma’s thoughts.  Yes, they’re selfish, but his desire to keep quiet in order to not be plunged back into the hell he’s grateful to be leaving are very understandable!  Previously, he’d seemed sociopathic.

7.  So Child Emperor thinks that most of his fellow Class S heroes are either evil, evil-looking, evil-acting, or just plain weird?  Not nice at all.

he still has some way to go in learning how to not judge by appearance

8.  But Zombieman is just wholesome.  Especially his promise to treat Child Emperor to milkshake afterwards.  Let it happen!

Imagine

Sirens Calling Pt. 2

Dylan Sauge (Tidelands) x Reader

...

Your return to Orphelin Bay takes a turn for the worst when you become the centre of attention after your cousin Cal is found to be a Tidelander. Thrown into a challenging situation, secrets are uncovered and the mysteries of the Tidelanders are brought to light.

====================

Dylan was sprinting towards the tree line intent of finding you. His thoughts were clouding his judgement. So much so he didn’t hear the blonde goddess call his name until he was behind the tree you were curled up against.

The rise and fall of your chest increased as you saw his hand loop against the tree’s trunk, ready to inspect behind it.

His movement, however, was frozen as he turned to face his queen. Had she been following him?

“What is it you are doing?” She inquired, as she held one of the dead mans eyeballs up, her steady gaze on Dylan.

“Nothing my queen.” Dylan answered as he walked towards her at the edge of the water. Silently he cursed himself for not disposing of the remains when he found them. Or doubling back to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

“Well if you don’t mind, return to L’Attente. Lamar will be needing some help controlling the crowd for tonight’s festivities.”

Her steady gaze never left his. Challenging him to refuse and continue in the quest to find whatever had him so riled up.

However, Dylan was growing aware of her manipulative ways. And with all the strength he could muster walked past Adrielle towards L’Attente without looking in the direction of where (y/n) was hiding. “Of course, my queen.”

With Dylan gone it was now Adrielle you needed to hide from. A sudden wave of further anxiety washed over you knowing she would find you much easier.

“I know you’re here.” She softly hummed, once again inspecting the eye before looking at the tree line for you.

Her voice sickly sweet as her bare feet trod softly against the sand

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way (y/n). Which do you prefer?”

You shook. There was no escape. No scrunching of the eyes and wishing for the ground to swallow you up would turn your reality into something better. You were caught. You were probably going to endure the same terrible things as your cousin Cal.

Lost in a trance of worry which had frozen your shaking form it wasn’t until a hand clasped around your neck did you return to reality.

Cold sharp nails dug into your neck as another hand latched onto your hair. A disgruntled yell left your lips as pain coursed through your scalp. Your hands flew to her hand attached to your hair. Frantically clawing at it to let go.

She had strength however. More than you realised.

Quickly she had you on your knees in front of her. Both her hands moved to your hair and just as quickly as she captured you with her talons your eyes closed as the world went black. Your head was thrust against the tree trunk and you were out cold.

-----

The world was black. The bag over your head was black. The boot of the car was black. The world outside, black. A state of perpetual darkness where you could no longer see anything in the world.

The confides where you were jostled, throwing you around in the small space. Tires screeched as the vehicle you were in swerved to the side before coming to a stop.

Your head flew to the side as the car turned the corner, hitting the back of your skull against the stiff metal edge. A throbbing sensation reverberated through your skull as the already pulsing sensation became overwhelming.

Your eyes closed, your brain was beginning to slow, processing the situation became harder. Your mind becoming fuzzy.

Music pulsated in the background. Joyous laughs and mumbled speech of tens of people captured your fading attention to the celebratory atmosphere playing on outside the car.

The Sound of the boot popping open drew a breath out you had unknowingly been holding in. Two pairs of strong large hands clasped around your bare arms.

The singlet shirt and boy shorts you’d dressed into for bed before your kidnapping were no match for the cool air that swept over your body as you were yanked from the small box.

A shiver ran down your spine as your bare feet touched the cold jagged gravel below. Weak knees gave way and you fell to the ground. Grunting in discomfort, you winced as you were pulled back up straight. A trickle of liquid, probably blood, ran down the front of your legs and over your feet.

Suddenly your ears picked up the noise. Or lack thereof. The surrounds were quiet; eerily quiet, aside for the few mumbles and whispers that travelled to and fro as you were walked t what felt like a wooden step.

Just as quietly a pair of heels clicked their way from behind you, coming to a halt at your side. Long cold fingers wound their way across your shoulders and hooked onto your singlet shirt strap. The bag over your head was pulled forcefully away; scraping against the open wound next t your eye from where your head had been smashed against the tree trunk.

Fresh blood trickled from the cut, falling onto your white shirt and staining it crimson.

Your chin was caught in the tight talon grip of Adrielle and pointed towards the growing crowd of Tidelanders.

“My people.” Adrielle spoke with authority. “Let this be a lesson to you all. Those who refuse me, deify me, challenge me, will be met with consequences.”

She was trained on speaking to the crowd. However, as her tight grip on your hair raised your swelling eyes you noticed a pair staring back at you.

He held his head high, eyes wide as he refused to break the contact between you both. Your own eyes, however, were growing weary. Eyelids becoming heavy as sleep beckoned. The pain that reverberated throughout your entire body began to numb.

Hence, when Adrielle kicked your knees out from beneath you and you fell to the ground with her talons still rapped in your hair, you never felt the pain as she dragged her blade down the front of your collarbone and chest; piercing the skin and shredding the singlet covering your bra and naked form.

Your eyes were glazed over, focusing on nothing but the blur of the surrounds. Void of noise, of movement and emotion, blood wept from the fresh wound and a single tear escaped from the corner of your eye and rolled down your bloodied cheek until it hit the wooden deck below.

Disregarding Adrielle’s annoyance to your response and your bodies effort to keep you in reality, your mind began to shut down. The world around you once again falling into darkness as Adrielle let go of your hair and your body slumped down onto the ground.

-----

Sunlight shone softly on your face. Your eyes fluttered open as they admired the golden rays. Where you in heaven? Had your body given up in its fight for survival?

Your attempts to sit up answered your questions when your body gave way and you fell back onto the soft mattress you were laying on. A disgruntled groan left your lips as your body began to ache. Sharp pains echoed throughout. The room began to spin, and you reached your hand up to clutch your head feeling the damp bandages wrapped around your forehead.

A noise from another room made your hairs on your arms stand tall. Your eyes were now wide, observing your surrounds. An unrecognisable bed, or room for that matter was where you were laid. However, the decorations and colour were likeable to a Tidelanders.

Nerves began to take over your body again as you searched for anything on the nightstand to act as a weapon. Who knew what wandered the room outside the bedroom door? Or who wandered them?

Just as your fingered grasped for the glass of water on the bedside table the door creaked open to in fact reveal a Tidelander. Or more specifically, Dylan.

Your eyes grew wide in worry and anxiety of what he might do to you. The little remaining water was thrown out the glass as you threw it in the direction of him. He ducked behind the door, just in time for the glass to smash against the wall right next to where he was stood previously.

“Woah.” He speaks calmly, hands in surrender next to his face as he trends slowly into the room. “Calm down (y/n), it’s just me.”

“Where am I-.” You croak out, throat dry and tired. “What happened?”

“I will explain everything but-.” Dylan begins but you cut him off.

Your breathing becomes rapid and your eyes swell with tears. “No! What do you want from me?” You bring both your hands up into fists at your chest.

His eyes go soft as they concentrate on your breaking resolve. “(y/n),” he sighs, hands coming down to his sides, “just let me fix the bandage on your face”.

Your hand brushed up to the bandage above your eye. It was soaked, and as you brought your hand back down you noticed the crimson blood that had seeped onto your skin. A light trickle of blood began to run down your cheek and onto the clean grey shirt you were wearing.

All resolve broke as the tears that had been building overflowed and ran down your face. Sobs racked your chest as your head fell back down on the pillow with your hands covering your eyes.

The mattress dipped next to your hip and warm fingers gingerly pulled your hands away from your face. Still clutching them in his lap. His face was directed past you. Attention focused on the nightstand. He opened his mouth as to say something but just as quickly shut it. After taking a gulp he turned his head slowly and his warm eyes met your teary ones.

“Let me help you (y/n).” He whispered. “Please.”

One - The Brits

“ANNA!” Rachel calling my name stirred me, making sure I greeted a new morning rather uneasily. I groaned, loud, raspy and frustrated, pulling the sheets above my head, trying to block out any noise. Especially Rachel screaming. “ANNA, GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE NOW!” “I’M FAST ASLEEP.” “I AM SHOCKED BY YOUR LIES, ANNA! SHOCKED AND APPALLED.”

I groaned a little louder, grabbing the top of the duvet with both hands and pulling it downwards, letting my eyes flicker open and grow accustom to the light. I turned my head, seeing that my digital clock was telling me it was 10am. It’s too fucking early. I looked back up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath in, then back out. The only downside I could find to having roommate, was the fact that my roommate was a morning person. I would have put money on the fact that Rachel had already been awake for at least an hour, if not two. I, however, had always been the type of person who could sleep all day, and finally come to life at night. But I suppose, in a way I was grateful for it. Without her, I knew that my sleeping pattern would have been totally fucked. “ANNA!” She yelled a little louder that time; my body jolted. I yanked the sheets further down. “WHAT?” I yelled back, real frustration in my voice. “YOU’RE ON THE TELE!” She finally had my attention. With one further deep intake of breath, I took myself from the comforts of my bed. My toes were the first to exit the warmth, seeming to sting slightly as they came into contact with the cold air. I let out an exhausted squeal, moving the rest of myself a lot quicker than I had planned, darting over to the door with as much speed as I could, covering my naked body with the dressing gown that hung from a hook on the back of my door. I moved from my room, walking through the hall and into the living room, seeing Rachel stood in her underwear, bouncing up and down, a spoon hanging from her mouth and a half full yoghurt pot in hand. “Put some clothes on. And please don’t spill the yoghurt.” I chuckled. She shrugged her shoulders, continuing to jump around. I turned to face the screen of the tele, seeing it hanging on the wall, paused on a still of the video. “Rach, I’ve seen the video more than a million times. I know I’m in it.” I joked. “No, it’s like… a celeb news thing, and they’re talking about you! I just paused it.” She smiled. “Celeb news?” I laughed at the very idea of it. “Celeb fucking news?” She laughed, agreeing that the very idea of me being a celebrity was ridiculous. Rachel turned and put the yoghurt on the kitchen counter before turning back around, grabbing the remote from the settee, and pressing play. It is rumoured that Anna Black, star of the Arctic Monkey’s - Do I Wanna Know, video, will be accompanying Alex Turner to The Brit Awards this evening. Since the song was released, Anna has been very high in demand due to the incredible success of the video, but she tends to keep herself to herself. We look forward to seeing her all dressed up tonight. As quickly as it had started, the pointless article had finished. Rachel started screaming, her arms thrown high in the air as she bounced up and down, alternating between which leg she lifted up in the air. I giggled at her, letting out an exasperated breath, rolling my eyes. I was shaking my head, walking over to the fridge and grabbing myself a yoghurt. “IT’S THE MOST EXCITING THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED EVER!” She yelped. “Don’t...” I tried. I turned around and she was with me in a second, grabbing my hands, making me drop the luckily unopened tub on the floor. “No, seriously, Anna! This is so exciting. You’re going to The Brits tonight, with fucking Alex Turner on your arm, and you were just on celeb news.” She had finally stopped shouting. I didn’t reply, I simply bent down, picked up the tub, and sat it down on the kitchen top. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Rachel, who was finally calming down, sensing my unease. She grabbed me, both hands meeting the top of my arms as she turned me, forcing me to look at her. “Why aren’t you more excited?” She asked, concerned. “M'just nervous.” I whispered. She pulled me in, hugging me fiercely. I wrapped my arms back around her, unfazed by her bare body. Because the truth was, that I was terrified. The video blew up in my face, and I hadn’t been expecting it. My childhood dreams had come true when I went to see a friend at university in Leeds, and we somehow ended up bumping into the one and only Alex Turner. The whole thing was totally surreal; I couldn’t help but think back to the days where it seemed the Arctic Monkeys were the only band I listened to, traveling on the bus to school, talking about how madly in love with Mr Turner I was. So, as you can imagine, I was a little overwhelmed. We spoke freely, and he eventually came to tell me that I was exactly what he imagined for the part in their video. Not exactly the kind of offer you refuse. But for some reason, the video became huge. Everyone had watched, and it was such a massive topic of conversation amongst people, and I was a big part of that whirlwind. I had been thrust into the limelight, without any time to prepare, and I was unable to make the decision if I actually wanted that or not. It was mine. And truth be told, it petrified me. “You’ll be fine, silly.” Rachel attempted to comfort me. “I know, I know. It’s just a little strange.” I pulled away from her, giving off a little sigh as my gaze fell to the floor. “C’mon, you’re a sex symbol! You could probably turn up looking like hell and people would still rave about you.” I grabbed the yoghurt from the side, and put it back in the fridge. She watched me with sad eyes, knowing how much it was affecting me, how nervous I was, how scared I was by all the attention I had been getting. She was excited for me, and seemed to be able to see the positive side of things at all times, but I couldn’t. I often saw the negatives. I felt ungrateful. I felt like I was being dismissive of the good it had brought to my life. The mixture of emotions I felt about the entire thing basically meant that I was slowly driving myself insane. “I’m gunna go back to bed for a bit.” I informed her. I got a sympathetic nod, before I slumped back to my room, wanting to sleep until the evening.

The woman in front of me prodded almost aggressively at my face with a makeup brush in an attempt to make me look half decent. I squirmed away from her a little, feeling slightly unnatural having someone else doing my makeup, controlling the way I was going to look. “Hold still!” She demanded. “Sorry.” I whispered, trying my best to become neutral. I let my concentration fall to the woman’s fingers. They were wrinkled and aged, but still more attractive than I imagined hands ever could be. They looked soft to the touch, her nails long but natural, painted a light colour with a slight shimmer. She had about 3 rings on every finger, each different, none complementing each other, which made them look spectacular. I glanced up to her face, which was incredibly close my own as she concentrated on making my skin look flawless. I couldn’t help but admire her; I imagined she was about 60 years old, but she looked incredible. She really cared about her appearance in the best way possible, not over-done at all, just incredibly elegant for her age, and with the exact right amount of quirkiness. She was pretty spectacular. She took her brush and moved away from my face, looking at me from a distance. “Okay… I think we’re done.” She smiled. She stepped aside, confidently revealing the mirror to me so that I could fully take in my altered appearance. “Holy shit.” I blurted out. It wasn’t that she had made me look like someone else, which I had been nervous about, expecting to look at my reflection and see someone unrecognisable. She had simply made me look like the best possible version of myself. “Bad?” She quizzed, though I can’t say she seemed worried at all. “No. Not at all. It’s... amazing. How do you do that?” I was genuinely baffled. “Years of practice.” She leered, taking a step back and folding her arms as she stared at me through the mirror, impressed with herself. I leant forwards, taking my fingers and stroking my cheek, which hadn’t been so soft since the years before puberty hit. My nerves calmed an amount I didn’t care to admit, because I did not want to be the type of person who placed so much importance on appearances. But just seeing how much better I looked with my makeup professionally done really did help. I’d never been to an event so large in my life, and I wanted to look and feel good about myself. A knock on the door took me away from the mirror. “Come in.” Me and the lady chimed in time with one another. The one and only Alex Turner poked his head round the corner. “Are we decent?” He chuckled. “Never.” I smiled, standing myself up. He let himself in, looking me up and down, confused. “Well, the hair and the makeup is good, but I’m not sure about the outfit.” He smiled. I looked down, almost forgetting I was still in a baggy Beatles t-shirt and leggings. “WHAT?” I joked. “You don’t like it? But I have on my finest robes.” ”Sorry,” He held his hands up on the air. “My mistake.” “Her dress is over there.” The lady interrupted. I turned to her, seeing the direction her finger was pointing and letting her guide me to the outfit that had been picked out for me. That was when my nerves made their unwelcome return. I wandered over to the large black bag hanging from the wall, worried that the outfit would be something I would hate, something I would never actually pick out for myself in a million years. I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable, because the thought of being on the red carpet at all with all those flashing lights burning my skin made me uncomfortable enough as it was. I really didn’t want that feeling developing any further. I wished I’d been allowed to decide what I would wear, but apparently that wasn’t an option. I took my shaking hand and raised it to the top of the zip, calming myself as I pulled down slowly. A grin appeared on my mouth right away. Black lace ran the entirety of the of dress, creating beautiful flower patterns amongst the weaves. It was high-necked, tight fitting until the point where it would fall just above my hips, before it fell into a loose material. Alex came behind me, raising his hands to my shoulders and squeezing them, his fingers lingering near my collarbone and his thumb on my back. “You’re going to look great, Love. Don’t worry about anything, okay?” He comforted me.

We sat giggling in the large black car that had picked us up, steadily drinking our beers and listening to AM as we made our way to the awards. The alcohol seemed to calm my nerves almost completely, but I think the company was assisting with that too. Though the boys already seemed close to gone. We chatted with each other in high spirits, laughing away and never letting the conversation steer to where we were going and what was about to happen, because I think the lads understood exactly how nervous I was, and they were being incredibly understanding. But it didn’t take long for the mood to die. “OKAY!” The PR man that had hired for the evening cut our conversation short. “Black, I need to talk to you for a minute.” I hadn’t been expecting them to need to do anything with me, really. I thought I just needed to turn up, take a few pictures, and then enjoy the rest of my evening, surrounded by some of the world’s most famous artists, trying not to freak out. I didn’t have any more of a role to play. “Me?” I quizzed. “Yeah. We have a few rules for you, so I want you to listen up, okay?” I shrugged my shoulders, hating the word rules immediately, but intrigued. “Alright.” The boys and I listened eagerly, and I was happy to see that they all looked as confused as I did. “You’re supposed to be sexy, okay? The video makes you look sexy, and that’s what people like, so I don’t want on any this.” He groaned, pointing all his fingers towards me and moving his hand in circles, pretty much gesturing at everything about me. “Any of what?” I spat out, already annoyed. “Any of this… fun loving, friendly... bullshit. Sex sells, sweetheart. We need you to look serious, we need you to look enticing.” He said, looking at the pages that sat on his lap rather than giving me eye contact. “So you’re saying... you don’t want me to be friendly?” It was laughable. “You’re kidding, right?” Jamie laughed. The man’s eyes finally raised, looking at all of us as though we were idiots. “Is something funny?” He was angered. “No.” Jamie raised his hands in defeat, slumping back into his seat. “You carry on, mate! No worries.” “Good.” He continued through a fake grin. “So no smiling for the cameras, alright? You might be able to get away with a smirk, but that’s it. And no interviews, I don’t want them to even hear you speak.” I couldn’t even muster the words to try and explain how annoyed I was with the situation. It wasn’t that I wanted to take part in interviews or any of that bullshit, but I didn’t like being told that I couldn’t. I just sat with my eyebrows lowered and my mouth dropped, looking the man straight in the eyes, hoping he would tell me he was joking. But he didn’t. “She can’t speak?” Alex piped up. “I don’t want them hearing that Northern accent.” “We’re fucking Northern.” Matt then started. “I don’t care!” The man was almost yelling. “These are the rules we’re going by tonight, okay?” “Hold on a fucking minute-” Alex sat forward, pointing his finger at him with real frustration, but I cut him short. “No, it’s fine, Alex. It doesn’t matter, it’s fine.” I just wanted to get the night over with at that point, and maybe not speaking and generally not acting like myself would help that happen. I looked down, concentrating on the lace of my dress and the blonde tips of my dyed hair, holding in my anger, maybe even holding in tears. I hadn’t expected any of this when I said yes to being in the video. I hadn’t expected being in a video to change so much for me. I was suddenly this public figure, people had ideas about me, people were forming opinions and jumping to conclusions about me. I hadn’t even allowed myself to fully think about the lack of job opportunities after this shit-storm. Then on top of that, I was being asked to attend an event and to act stuck-up, which wasn’t going to make me look any better. I already felt lost, before we even got there. It was mere minutes later that we finally pulled up outside the building, lights flashing towards the car before they even knew who was inside. All I could hear was screams, every other noise was drowned out by the hundreds of people calling out, reaching out to the car, trying to stroke it, totally entranced by the idea that there were important people inside. I was totally bewildered by it, regardless of the fact that if I was on the outside of the car with them, I would be exactly the same. “Holy shit, I can’t do this.” I whispered. Alex turned to me quickly, placing his beer down in front of him, not caring as it spilled and the liquid soaked into the carpet. He engulfed my hands in his, and looked to me with caring, if not slightly misty, eyes. “It’s not actually that bad.” He told me. “And we only have to be on the carpet for about five minutes, and then we can go inside and you can be entirely yourself for the rest of the night.” “No one’s ever told me I can’t be myself before!” I gasped in a panic, rushing my words. “Actually, usually the fucking opposite. My parents always told me to be myself, they are really nice y’know? So like, I don’t really know what I’m doing. What if I fall, my dress might blow up in the wind-” “Your dress goes down to the floor.” Alex chuckled, interrupting my mad speech. “I know, but it could still happen, I’m a fucking walking disaster on the best of days and-” “Shut up.” He cut me off for the final time. “It’s going to be fine. Just grip onto me okay? Don’t let go.” “LETS GET A MOVE ON!” The PR man shouted. Alex gave me a caring smile, and the car door opened. Matt, James and Nick stepped out first, and the cheers became even louder somehow. Alex offered me his hand, which I gripped tightly, combining my fingers with his. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in, faltering slightly, but finding some kind of calm, luckily. I opened my eyes again, and followed Alex as he stood himself up, and got out of the car. I was surprised I didn’t fall flat on my face right away. In fact, it was probably the smoothest exit I had ever managed to make from a car. The screams grew ever louder, the sight of Alex Turner affecting people’s vocal chords in an extreme way. But as I said, in any normal situation, on the other side of the metal fences, I would have been exactly the same. I moved my hand from his, linking my arm with him instead so I was as latched on as physically possible, as close as I could be as the lights started blinding me, leaving tiny white dots in my mind and darting across my vision. The boys were totally at home, as cool and collected as ever as we walked down the carpet towards the designated area for the best pictures. The fact I wasn’t allowed to smile became a little easier at the sight that none of the boys did, either. They just walked down the carpet like they owned the place. It wasn’t overly difficult feeling cool when I was accompanied by the Arctic Monkeys. We reached the focus area where the main pictures should have been taken, my heels already stinging my feet as we came to a standstill, turning to our side, and meeting the mob of paparazzi who began shouting, screaming at us, demanding us to do as they were asking. It was bizarre. I wondered how anyone could ever get used to that kind of thing. I glanced my head to the boys for a second, studying their faces, trying to blend in with them, not wanting to stand out, not wanting the uncomfortable feeling I had on the inside reach any part of my outer appearance. I turned back to the cameras, mouth parted slightly, looking around like I wanted to fuck everyone and everything there, trying my best to look just a little enticing. Don’t smile. Don’t smile. Don’t smile. Luckily, I had grown quite accustom to looking and acting that sort of way during the video shoot. I had been directed, told how I needed to look into the camera, what I needed to look like, how to ooze the idea of sex and seduction. So it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I had first expected. But usually, if I saw a flashing camera, I would smile! Unless I was drunk, in which case I never really seemed to know what I was doing with my face. “You’re doing great.” Alex leaned into my ear. Though he was shouting, it was still like he was whispering, the crowd seemed to be growing denser and noisier by the second. At first, I couldn’t quite figure out why they were becoming more restless. But it only took a turn of my head to realise. I had turned to yell back to him, and spotted the exact reason the crowd had become so riled up. “Holy shit.” I shouted, which was definitely not what I had originally been planning to say. “What?” He looked at me, our lips lingering close, causing the cameras to flash a little more frequently if that was even possible. They were eating it up. It was actually slightly amusing. “That’s One Direction.” I stuttered, staring past Alex and looking to the five boys stood taking pictures. They were a spectacle to behold. I understood the hype just looking at them. All dressed to the nines, totally owning the place. They were enchanting without even doing anything, still laughing and conversing with one another, at the same time as posing for the cameras. They knew exactly what they were doing. In a strange way, it was haunting. Alex simply rolled his eyes, and looked back to the mob. “I’m impressed they’re actually good looking in real life.” I spoke in his ear, directing my gaze to the skin of his cheek. I then proceeded to bite my lips, acting as though I had whispered something sexual in his ear. Alex grinned to the floor, acting along with me, letting my character grow. “Shame they’re talentless.” He spoke. “Are you kidding? Have you listened to their latest stuff? They can actually write a really decent tune, especially that Louis Tomlinson kid. I was genuinely impressed.” “No, shockingly enough, I haven’t listened to a single One Direction album.” He grinned, bringing his head back up, smiling next to my lips. “Well maybe if you weren’t a music snob, you might give them the time of day.” I smirked next to him, looking down to his lips, knowing that was the closest to a smile I could get away with. We were making it seem like there was some sexual tension between us, and we knew the media would adore that. Alex looked down to my lips, wrapping his hand around my waist and jolting my body towards his in one sharp tug. “You’re better at this than you think.” He stated.

The evening went exactly as planned. Alex and the boys took home 3 awards, British Group, Best Video, and British Album. They had begged me to go on stage when they won the award for video, but I stayed put, practically glued to my seat. I felt as though I had barely made it past the red carpet, so I was extremely aware that if I was to get up on stage in front of all those people, I would have totally caved. But I couldn’t help but feel a little proud. I definitely didn’t think up the idea for the video, nor was I anything to do with the incredible track that made the video what it was. But I was still in it, still a part of it, still a factor of it. So even though the feeling of pride was pretty out of place, I still felt it. We moved onto the after party held in a large building in the centre of London, and drank the evening away. My drinking had been steady since the early evening, so although I had drank a lot, the feeling remained neutral, steady and paced. Merry was the perfect way to describe how I felt. The same couldn’t be said for the boys. Unfortunately for me, their company had become a little tedious over the evening, just as drunk on themselves as they were on the numerous vodka shots they had swallowed. I gave myself some space. I sat alone at the bar, swirling the ice in my drink with my little finger, staring down to it lifelessly, mesmerised by the bubbles that continued to create themselves in the content of my lemonade, popping as I moved the ice, only to create brand new ones. I soon got bored, picking up my glass and downing its contents. I slammed it back down on the bar, my head spinning for just a second, before I found myself again, ready to order my next drink. I tried to grab the attention of the barman, but someone beat me to it. “I’ll have a beer, and a whiskey and lemonade, please.” The deep voice ordered. I glanced down the empty bar, spotting him. The infamous Harry Styles. My throat hitched up, then back down, like it wanted me to swallow but my throat was too dry. I looked back down towards my empty glass to avoid any embarrassment. He was quite the sight. I watched from the corner of my eye. The barman worked quickly, handing the order over to Harry as he passed over some money. I couldn’t help but think that the bundle of notes in his hand seemed to be a lot more than the small order could have possibly amounted to. The bartender gave him an appreciative nod, then moved away. Still refusing to gaze directly his way, I realised that Harry was looking at me, watching me, like he was really trying to get me to notice his staring. So I gave into him, letting my gaze fall down the bar, my eyes meeting his. With one swift push, he sent the whiskey and lemonade travelling the short distance down the bar. It slid towards me, not a single drop being spilt as it came to a standstill against my arm. It was seriously the smoothest fucking move I had ever seen in my life. If my mind wasn’t so relaxed from the alcohol, I would have been shaking, freaking out, screaming, shuddering. Though it was still hard to hold control, I stayed practically still, before lifting the drink, raising it to my lips, taking a steady sip, still looking him deep in the eye as he watched me. I put the glass back down on the bar. “How do you know I like whiskey and lemonade?” I questioned, restraining my smile. I was desperately trying to keep up my act, keep up the idea that I was sexy and mysterious. I had been in character for a percentage of the night. A little more couldn’t hurt. “I’ve had my eye on you.” He simply stated. Though I was a fan of their new album, I had never really watched any One Direction interviews, or taken any special interest in them other than their latest album, so I had not expected such a sultry voice to pour from his mouth. It was slow and deep, charming and polite, beautifully Northern like my own but still with a slight twang, fairly posh compared to mine. He was, in every sense of the word, appealing. “Oh really?” I ticked my head to the side. He smiled, and made his way towards me. He stopped just before the skin of our arms could touch. “AM Girl.” He simply said. I picked the glass back up and took a quick gulp, throwing it to the back of my throat. The name made my jaw clench. “Apparently, that’s me.” I tried to hold back my sarcasm, but it was difficult. He sensed it right away, letting his eyes flicker over me, his smile was gone. I ran my hand through my hair, trying to shake off the atmosphere I had accidentally created. “You’re fucking Alex Turner?” He asked out of nowhere. “I’m not fucking anyone.” I took another gulp. Harry leaned into my ear. I turned my head a little, making sure I could feel his hot breath down my neck. “Yet.” He spoke lowly. The character of AM Girl was completely out of the window after that as I sat with my mouth wide, chest rising, unable to speak. Harry took his hand, rubbing my back once, before walking away from the bar, back to the crowd. “You have a good night.” He yelled over his shoulder. I sat alone, watching him walk away and become lost in the sea of people at the further side of the room. I was gobsmacked, at the same time as being so hot and bothered, totally succumbing to that charm that seemed to have heightened his fame. My skin tingled, hot and heavy. “Holy shit.”

18 andreil

……why do y’all insist on giving me the most difficult andreil prompts askdjfadsh this is like the “i love you” meme all over again!!!!! ok this was near impossible but i really, really tried so be gentle asjkdfha this is set the day of Aaron’s trial so even though there’s no real discussions of drake or andrew’s past it does have allusions to it, just be mindful

i hope you like it, bud :’)

18. While someone’s crying

*

If Neil could rank his days from best to worst todaywould definitely be up there as one of the most horrible.

He’s always known the day of Aaron’s trial would feelsomething akin to a stab in the gut; he’s been anticipating it for months. It hasn’tmade watching Andrew slowly withdraw and fold in on himself any easier. Andrew’sprogress over the last year has been painstaking and slow but it’s beenhappening and seeing it be torn to shreds during court today had made hisstomach roil.

Watching Andrew on the stand, relaying all the excruciatingdetails of his past without an ounce of emotion in his voice or his expressionmade something crack open in Neil. And Andrew holding his hand so tightly Neilfeared the bones would break while Cass took the stand in defence of her sononly made those cracks turn to steel.

By the time Aaron’s innocent verdict had finally beenreached Neil had been left emotionally strung out and burning with a white-hot angerat every single person in the room who had forced Andrew to go through this.

The ride home had been a silent affair and as soon asthey’d gotten back to the dorm Andrew had stalked into the bedroom and closedthe door behind him. Neil had assumed he’d been getting changed at first butnow that it’s been over and hour he can’t help the worry that creeps into thecorners of his mind.

“Should one of us check on him?” Nicky asks, voicehoarse from the amount of tears he’s shed today. He looks to Aaron first, who’scurled up on the couch in Katelyn’s embrace, before his gaze travels to Neilwhen Aaron remains silent.

Pushing himself out of the beanbag chair, Neil standsup. “I’ll go.”

Bypassing Kevin sitting in the other beanbag cradlinga bottle of vodka, Neil makes his way to the bedroom. He knocks on the doorbefore he opens it, a warning just in case.

He’s not sure what he expected to find in theirbedroom but whatever it was, it isn’t this.

Rather than at the window with a cigarette or lyingin his own bunk, Andrew is sitting on Neil’s bed, knees drawn up to his chestand wearing a hoodie Neil recognises as his own.

“Hi,” Neil says, throat feeling too tight as hehovers in the middle of the room.

Andrew doesn’t acknowledge him, staring blankly atthe end of the bed with glassy eyes.

“Can I sit?”

After what feels like an age, Andrew lifts his chinto glance at him, offering him the slightest nod in acquiescence.

With fingers itching to reach out, Neil decides topush his luck. “Can I sit with you?”

“Yes,” Andrew replies, voice rough with disuse.

Neil takes a breath and carefully moves to sit besidehim, leaving a sliver of space between them in case Andrew doesn’t want to betouched.

He doesn’t anticipate Andrew’s head dropping downonto his shoulder but when it does the desire to hold him becomes almostunbearable.

Neil releases a measured breath. “Andrew-“

“Yes, Neil,” Andrew cuts him off, sounding weary witha bone-deep exhaustion Neil doesn’t think he’s ever quite heard from himbefore. It’s blanket permission and Neil isn’t sure if he should trust that yesbut all he can do is hope Andrew will say no if he needs to.

So he does what he’s been aching to do since thesecond they stepped foot in the courthouse this morning; he puts his armsaround Andrew and hugs him close.

He doesn’t normally hold Andrew delicately because he’snot – Andrew is all sharp edges and unbreakable marrow. Neil has held him with reverence,with desperation, with a need that runs so deep even he doesn’t understand it.But today he holds Andrew delicately. Today he keeps his grip light and hisfingers soft as they trail through Andrew’s hair.

After some indeterminable point Neil feels a wetnessagainst his neck, right where Andrew’s face is tucked and he’s simultaneouslybowled over that Andrew’s allowing himself to feel and absolutely livid thatAndrew is hurting enough to let tears fall at all.

Neil doesn’t tighten his grip but he does pull himcloser, pressing his cheek into the top of Andrew’s hair and closing his eyes.

“She was supposed to love me,” Andrew says, sounding hollowedout and practically unrecognisable, and Neil wishes he’d been within touching distance of Cass just so he could’vemade her feel even an ounce of the pain Andrew has endured for over a decade.

“She doesn’t deserve to,” Neil replies, not quitemanaging to keep the latent fury out of his voice.

Andrew doesn’t pull away though, staying in thecircle of Neil’s arms as a quiet breath rolls out of him.

“When you love someone you’re supposed to burn theworld down to protect them,” Neil says steadfastly, faltering for a momentbefore adding, “Like you almost did for me. In Baltimore.”

Andrew goes impossibly still against him and Neil isterrified he’s made a mistake. That he’s ruined this, that he’s pushed too far,that Andrew will cast him aside and forever be out of his reach now. Because theydon’t use the word “love” when it comes to each other even though they bothknow it’s true. They don’t acknowledge it because they know better than totrust that word and what it means.

But Neil loves him. Neil loves him so much he can’tfucking breathe with it.

Andrew surprises him though. He always does.

He rolls his head on Neil’s shoulder so their eyesmeet and says, “You did. You knew going to Evermore was signing your deathsentence but you did.”

Neil swallows the lump in his throat, fingerstightening and releasing in Andrew’s hair. “It wasn’t a guarantee that you’d besafe but it was the best I had.”

There’s a beat of silence where they simply look ateach other and then Andrew’s glancing away again. “You still shouldn’t havewent.”

Neil feels bile rise in his throat at the reminderthat Riko’s promise was bullshit, at the reminder that he’d failed. “When youfeel like putting a bullet in Proust’s head let me know. I’ll drive the getawaycar.”

Andrew doesn’t respond but he does twist his fingersin Neil’s shirt.

They sit like that for a while and Neil slowly feelshis heartrate return to normal.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” Andrew answers after a pause and hesounds frustrated. At himself, Neil imagines.

Neil deliberates for a moment before nodding. “Okay,let’s focus on one thing at a time. What do you feel in your throat?”

“It’s too tight,” Andrew grits out. “It hurts tobreathe.”

“And your stomach?” Neil murmurs.

“There’s a knot in it.”

“And your chest?” Neil asks, brushing the hair backof Andrew’s forehead.

“Like there’s something pressing down on it.”

“And your skin?”

“Like it’s too small for my body,” Andrew tells him,gaining an edge to his voice that speaks of how much he’s suppressing. “It’s…crawling.”

Neil freezes at that, slowly extricating his handfrom Andrew’s hair. “Do you want me to stop touching you?”

There’s a beat and then, “No,” Andrew says.

Neil lets his hand settle on Andrew’s shoulder – asafe zone – until Andrew lets out an irritated huff.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?” Neil asks.

“Using you.As- as some kind of anchor,” he spits through clenched teeth and Neil knowsbetter than to be offended. Andrew hates the weakness he associates with hisfeelings for Neil. He hates the idea of giving someone that kind of controlover him even if he’s proven by now that he trusts Neil.

“No,” Neil says measuredly. “You shouldn’t.”

Andrew leans back to look at him, eyes slightlynarrowed, and Neil wets his lips before continuing. “You need to learn ways tokeep yourself calm when you’re feeling triggered or like you might losecontrol,” Neil tells him because he knows that’s exactly what Andrew does withBetsy.

“But,” he continues softly. “When you’ve had a daylike today and feel so vulnerable and emotionally strung out you can barelybreathe, it’s okay if you need to wear my hoodie. It’s okay if you need to stayin my bed. It’s okay if you need me to hold you…It’s okay,” Neil tells him.

Andrew stares at him for a long time and Neil has tosuppress the wounded noise that almost escapes him when he sees Andrew’s eyesglaze over again. He doesn’t draw attention to it though, just waits for Andrewto decide what his next move is.

“Okay,” Andrew whispers finally, eyelids driftingshut when Neil wipes his thumb under his eye.

And then, almost in synch, they’re moving, turningmore fully onto their sides so they can lie down. Andrew curls into him, kneesbent and touching Neil’s, with his forehead pressed against Neil’s chest andhis hands in his shirt.

Neil, for his part, sweeps his hand over Andrew’sback, a soothing up-down motion that aligns with Andrew’s breathing.

And it’s one of the fucking worst days in the worldand Neil hates seeing Andrew like this and Andrew hates being like this but they’re healing.

Slowly, but surely, they will stitch back togetherall the parts of themselves that have been left jagged by their past. Andrewwill heal.

They will heal.

*