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klanceficatalogue · 4 years

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Klance Fic Starter Pack

So back in June of 2018 I made a Klance Fic Starter Pack post but since it’s been a long while since then I decided it’s finally time for an update. So here we have it! - Karri

so why don’t we fall by aknightley (1/1 | 8,218 | Explicit)

Five times Lance used a pet name for Keith, and one time Keith used one for Lance.

Keith has no basis for having a relationship with someone, so he's trying to follow Lance's lead.

//nsfw

The Marks We Make by wittyy_name (12/12 | 255,302 | Mature)

Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he'll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don't say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It's not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can't bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he's resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he'll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He's just an art student who's struggling to find his place in the world. There's so much he hasn't been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can't do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

//nsfw

(shallura, hunk/shay)

Nightmares by Trashness (1/1 | 14,864 | Teen And Up)

Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

call me, beep me (10/10 | 85,591 | General)

(00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose? (00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake? (00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it? (00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy... (00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones? (00:45) What (00:46) The (00:46) Fuck??? (00:47) Oh good, you are awake!

where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

(shallura)

Shut Up and Dance With Me by wittyy_name (15/15 | 249,827 | Mature)

Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith.

Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo.

With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn.

//nsfw

(shallura)

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by klancekorner (13/13 | 135,555 | Mature)

Lance and Keith have been best friends since first grade. Lance’s brain is always on overdrive and Keith’s blunt, realistic ass can never keep up. They both come to realize that sometimes you can learn a lot about loving yourself by loving someone else.

//anxiety //insecurities //nsfw

i bet you look good on the dancefloor by xShieru (7/7 | 43,295 | Teen And Up)

"So like in 'Step Up'?" Allura shrugs. "Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it's just like in 'Step Up'." The smile that she sends Shiro's way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn't believe in dance camps.

Lance McClain's dancing career begins and ends with Keith.

Keith just wants to find out what Lance's deal is.

(shallura)

you never stood a chance by kagshina (1/1 | 12,221 | Teen And Up)

lance to hunk ♡ >i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent >keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said >”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS” >HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E

(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies)

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts (1/1 | 50,369 | Teen And Up)

Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

Sweet Quiznak by CheckeredCloth (4/4 | 6,819 | Teen And Up)

"You're really into him," Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance's face is on fire. Hunk is killing him.

"Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would've mowed his ass like grass. That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife."

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet. Or maybe just the one.

//blood //injury

What a Healing Pod Can’t Repair by Remember_Me (12/12 | 55,777 | Teen And Up)

The compromised wormhole was ripping apart at the seams, sending everyone spiraling away in completely different directions. Lance could feel himself being pulled and bent in ways he was definitely not supposed to be. -- Stitching the team back together after everyone is separated is difficult, and for one Paladin rescue wouldn't be coming for a very long time.

//violence //blood

Bonding Time by magisterpavus (1/1 | 16,416 | Explicit)

“Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith blurted, wringing his hands.

Shiro paused mid-punch, shooting him a quizzical look. “What? What happened?”

“I think,” Keith whispered, “I think I accidentally roofied Lance. With my dick.”

//nsfw

Homesick at Space Camp by K0bot (15/15 | 74,280 | Teen And Up)

Lance realizes he's been an asshole to Keith, and on a diplomatic mission to a key planet for the Voltron alliance he... overcompensates.

//blood //injuries //panic attacks

we’ll make it, you and me by ghostcribs (1/1 | 6,421 | Teen And Up)

"Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

//injury

time out of mind by aknightley (2/2 | 27,849 | Teen And Up)

Keith and Lance wake up married. In the future.

He lays there a moment, processing the faint throbbing in his head, a strange bitter taste like lemons in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the room spins wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors, so he closes them again, breathing in and out until he feels less like he might throw up. He suddenly registers a warm weight over his waist, and lifts his head to see a brown arm thrown over him. It looks startlingly familiar, but different, bigger than he remembers, more toned.

Keith turns all the way around and comes face to face with Lance sleepily blinking his own eyes open.

A Fish And A Bird by Methoxyethane (1/1 | 13,141 | Teen And Up)

Lance has a boyfriend. Lance does not realize he has a boyfriend. Keith, understandably, does not react well.

On Thin Ice by anonimina (11/11 | 205,795 | Mature)

This multi-chapter fic chronicles the lives of a hockey player named Keith who gets enlisted into figure skating lessons by his brother, Shiro, to "work on his footwork". There he meets a pompous - yet talented - figure skater named Lance and gets swept away by both the sport and the skater.

Or: the not-so-simple story of two people trying to navigate the complexities of living in an ever changing world and face the traumas they've buried far away from the sunlight.

//anxiety

(shallura, hunk/shay)

bench press me by eggboi (1/1 | 1,683 | Teen And Up)

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

My Youth Is Yours by MilkTeaMiku (10/10 | 29,980 | General)

An unforseen blast in the middle of a battle de-ages Lance into a child for a week.

Keith does not understand babies.

#klance #voltron #vld #klance fic #klance fics #voltron fic #voltron fics #vld fic #vld fics #klance starter pack #klance fic starter pack

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deaconusdelirium · 3 years

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So this is love

Requested: “could I please have Princess!Reader who Crosshair ‘volunteers’ to guard while he tries to not fall for her, yet he does, and he’s a total gentleman and romantic, eugh. I need some love right now”

I’m so sorry this is late. I was suppose to post this Monday and I didn’t. Sorry cyar’ika, I hope you like it though🥺

———

“Listen, all we need is someone to guard her for the day, her mother and I have some matters to discuss. We hate for her to be in our problems she shouldn’t have to be in right now” your father exclaimed, holding your mothers hand as she nodded, “listen your highness, we have our hands full right now. We have a kid we also need to take care of” “we could pay you handsomely” Hunter seemed to think about the offer, they needed the credits, especially in a trying time such as now. “Alright. Crosshair will do it” Hunter said as Crosshairs head turned towards him, he was not expecting this.

“Hunter. I’m needed on your side, not, walking along side some fake royalty” He spoke, your parents a little offended, Hunter turned and put a hand on his brothers shoulder, “the planets pretty peaceful, this is easy money. Just watch the princess until we come back, they did say they were going to pay us well. We’ll be back before nightfall, you only have a few hours” he turned back around to negotiate further terms. Crosshair groaned, he was meant for a better job, not whatever he was ‘chosen to do’. He could be serving in the military yet here he was, being a lap dog for some wanna be princess. “Very well, follow me” your father pointed his hand towards the castle, Wrecker laughed as Tech didn’t seemed fazed at all. Echo didn’t have anything to say, even he thought he could do a better job than Crosshair.

“This better be worth it” Crosshair spoke, pushing past Hunter while hitting his shoulder with his, sliding his helmet on and walking after your parents. “Why him Hunter?” Echo asked, folding his arms, “because he’s willing to do what needs to be done” Hunter said, watching his brother disappear behind the big doors until they closed. “Alright, let’s go” “uh Hunter. How long are we going to be gone for exactly?” “Long enough for him to get that attitude straight” Tech bumped in, “I believe that leaving him on a planet he’s never been on, to be a guard while we go off, will not affect his behavior on accepting and listening to you. However, it will probably only make him upset” “since when has he ever been happy?” Echo said, shaking his head since he could never think of a time Crosshair was happy. “He’ll be fine, it’s not like we’re leaving him for good”

—

“This way.. Crosshair? Correct?” “Yes.” Crosshair was a lot taller than the guards at the palace, and whenever he passed some. They’d grow a little bit intimidated, but he couldn’t do anything. After all, it is a peaceful planet, so danger wouldn’t be common, right? He stopped abruptly when your parents did, almost bumping into them, he took a step back, “now, that’s all you’re doing. Just guarding her, bring her back before sundown. If she tries anything, bring her right back here” you father ordered, “mother” you parents turned to face you, making Crosshair do the same. You were a lot different than he had expected, he’s found you almost... endearing, really. He tuned out whatever you dad was saying, nodding along. Ok, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

He watched as you approached him, “I’m uh, ready” you looked down, you’ve never really been around clones, and he looked more rugged than the original stormtroopers. He gave a quick nod, you turned to wave, signaling you were leaving. You didn’t know how to start a conversation between you two, it was awkward, a bit embarrassing. He hasn’t said one word, at least you haven’t heard him say anything, you pulled the hood over your head further, wanting to just disappear into it instead of walking around with a stranger you’ve never seen who now has to guard you. You’d rather have one of your guards, they were easy to talk to, you were about to open the door but the Clone did, letting you walk through until he closed it, standing behind you once again. “Vor entye” you thanked him

“You know Mando’a?” He started, you looked at him wide eyed, not expecting him to speak so soon. “I do, my mother taught me. My father doesn’t know any, you?” You asked, looking around the streets filled with people, kids ran across playing with a ball while the adults talked and vendors were making money. “A little” you hummed, talking the left walkway first, “I assumed as much, considering you travel around the galaxy and talk to so many other people” he turned his head, “have you ever been off world?” Oh well, he might as well get to know you if he’s going to be with you for some time. “No, unfortunately. My parents won’t allow it, they don’t even trust me to take a walk by myself” you sounded upset, “and they promised me that I could have this day to myself, but yet here you are” he stopped for a second, maybe this planet wasn’t that all peaceful

He caught up to you, who was looking at the items that littered the table in front you, “so tell me, princess” he made the word princess sound silly, you rolled your eyes and turned to meet him, his helmet still hid his face, “yes, trooper?” You teased back, he wanted to know more about what really was going on behind the fake set up, if you sounded that distraught, then who knows what happens when you’re alone. “Did you want to take a walk today? Or were you made to?” You smirked at him, “my parents wanted to test my social skills. l, I guess you could put it that way. They’re just getting me ready” you turned back around, walking to another shop.

This didn’t seem that hard, maybe he could find out before the day ended, “ready? For?” You scoffed, “are you really asking me that?” He wasn’t expecting for the snap back, he’s never been around royalty so he stood there, waiting for your explanation, “for marriage? Two planets or two cities come together?” You even motioned it to him, he only watched, nodding along when he finally pieced it all together. “And how, is this going to help?” He asked, as you paid for the item you bought and put it in the bag you carried. He offered to carry it for you, and you reluctantly gave it to him, he swung it over his shoulder, next to his rifle. “Well, I could find out what my ‘husband’ would want for dinner. Clothes, etc. etc.” you explained, “I thought royalty got whatever they wanted” “that’s probably what non royalty think. But we’re just like everyone else, we still have to pay. And the Queen, Princess, Bride whatever you want to call them, still have to have their priorities set straight. It’s not fair that my parents met off world on their own planets when I can’t. They’re finding one for me”

He nodded his head, now he understood. He watched you as grabbed something again, his eyes followed the person he seen lurking around the shop. Looking over at you every now and then, he moved closer, “and does everyone have priorities?” He asked, motioning the civilians. “Mm, no. Some yes, they do, others don’t, why?” You faced him, looking around to see what he was worried about, “just wondering” “I see, well. I don’t feel like buying anything really, come on” you pulled his hand, he was not ready for that. He followed around like a lost puppy, his face red underneath the helmet. He barely held your hand back, unsure if you wanted him to hold it or not. “Come on, I want to show you something”

You both weaved through the crowd, he wouldn’t admit that even he was excited to see what you had to show him. Once he notice you slow down, he knew what you meant, it was a small clearing with the two suns. “Tell me..” “Crosshair” “Crosshair, what’s it like out there? Is it pretty? Better than here?” He looked over at where you were looking. He sighed out, “not exactly, some planets may look nice, but they’re still bad out there” “oh... what about the planets. Are there a lot? I mean I know are, but I feel like there’s limit to them” it bothered him knowing that you were so closed in and you didn’t know much about off world. “There are many planets, some, better than others” you looked at him, his hand went up to his helmet, pulling it off. You quickly turned away, shielding your hands from his face

“What are you doing?” He asked “I thought you might like privacy” you frantically said, he almost laughed, “no, you’re fine” “a-are you sure, because most people like you don’t take their helmet off in front of other people” he pushed your hands down, “what, other people?” He questioned, you slowly faced him, taking in his features, “people like.. Mandalorians” “Mandalorians?” “Yeah, he have quite a few visit every now and then” he eyed you down while you pushed off your hood. He got an even better look at you, he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful. He looked down to see that he was still holding your wrists. He backed off, looking away and standing there. You frowned, maybe it was something you did.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have” you apologized, walking off and waiting for him back at the alley, he put his helmet back on. Following you, it was almost evening. You were quiet after that, now it was his turn to feel awkward. You both took your time, every waking moment he spent with you felt like he’s known you for eternity. Some moments he found that he just wanted to stare at you while you talked about what you loved and what you wanted to to do. The stars in your eyes shined, the way they lit up whenever he asked about something from your culture.

Is this how you felt when you first met him? His head hung low while still following your footsteps, he looked up to see another pair of shoes in front of you, he glared at the person behind his visor. What was he demanding from you? He couldn’t hear, but he didn’t want this to go on any further, he stood up straight, pushing you behind him as he shook his head in a ‘no’ manner to the person. Once they knew to stand down, they did, walking off shortly while he turned to face you. “They didn’t do anything, did they?” “No... no I’m fine. I think we should head back” you both didn’t travel far, is this as far as you wanted to go?

“That’s it?” He questioned, he could still see the palace from where he stood. “What is?” You asked, “this is as far as you want to go?” “It’s getting late Crosshair, I’m suppose to be back by nightfall” you both had plenty of time, but why would you want to go back so early? He stood there, baffled at how you were paranoid to be out late, and you were being controlled more than you even knew. Even he could see it when he first met you. The somewhat sad expression he noticed whenever you looked up at the sky and seen night creep closer, “come on” he grabbed your hand, pulling you along side him as he walked around with you. “Crosshair, I think it’s best to go back. My parents are going to send guards soon” he ignored your protest, you had more than enough time to go do more things.

An hour or so later, you both found yourselves in a nice restaurant, he told you everything you wanted to know. He’d gotten to know your past and what you did growing up, must have been boring. He answered all your questions you had about off world, even listening to his stories about the time he went Gino battle. He stood up, coming over to your side and holding a hand out. You noticed how comfortable he had gotten in the past few hours, he helped you up as you both walked out the restaurant, then away from the crowd and into a small field. He was still getting use to being squished by people, so being alone would comfort him a little. “Cross” you called out, his helmet under one arm as the other was wrapped around your shoulder. “What is it?” “I.. just wanted to thank you. For today, this probably has to be my first time ever, outside with this much freedom. I’m surprised you haven’t taken me back yet” “you haven’t tried anything yet” he teased, “But all good things come to end” you looked down, holding your hands as he pondered about what just happened.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted. He pushed your hood off and pushed your head up and bent down to your lips. Softly taking them in his as you fell into it. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, he was suppose to only be watching you. Your father said nothing about talking... or falling in love, did he? But if he didn’t say anything about that, then maybe he just did. He moved closer to you, your hands found their way to his sides, where his armor wasn’t protecting. He tensed under your movements. He moved away, only leaving him wanting more, so he dropped his helmet and cupped your face in his hands. Bringing you in for another, his hands wandered down your shoulders and to your hips. Settling for the your lower back as you both tried to come as close as possible.

You pulled back with a gasp, heaving breathing as your hand fell on his chest plate. “Cross, I love-” he listened carefully, he knew what you were going to say and he wanted to hear it. He just couldn’t make the first move until you did, the past hours spent with you were probably the best ones he’s ever had. Something grew between you when you two, he started the day not wanting to do this, and at the end, he would do anything to be with you again like this. “Crosshair, I hope you you took the princess back. We’re almost there” he almost commed Hunter back to shut up. You pulled away without finishing your sentence. He didn’t even get to hear it, the cold air blew against the warmth you provided him, he shivered a little, expecting you to come back. “He’s right Crosshair. We should head back” “Y/n” “no, it’s getting late. I don’t want you getting in trouble” you said as you picked his helmet up off the ground and pushed it towards him. Walking off as he followed behind.

“Crosshair” Hunter commed again, trying to call for his brother but Crosshair could only think about the past minute. How you were so close he could feel the beating of your heart through his armor. The warmth you brought him and your soft gentle touches along his side. Was this love? Had he actually found someone to stay with? Or was this his feelings messing with him, he’s never been so close to someone before, And he definitely did not mind you being. “Crosshair” “what. What. What?” He finally answer back, snapping at his brother for ruining something he never thought he wanted. He kept an eye on you as you walked back to the palace, “we’re talking with the King and Queen, once you bring her back is when we’ll get paid. So I suggest you hurry” “you’ve told me before, you don’t need to tell me again.” He turned off his radio, catching up to you

The people who came too close to you were shoved out of the way since it also scared him that if you did come back late, guards would come, and his brothers were at the palace, that would mean there would be many there. He wondered just how many suitors were in line for you, how you spoke about not wanting to marry any of them earlier. Why would you kiss him? All the thinking about love and his feelings were giving him a headache, particularly where his chip use to be. He shook his head trying to rid the feeling, the large doors were now in front of the both of you. You looked hesitant to knock, “Y/n” he called out, his modulator matching his hushed tone. You looked over, his gloved hands tried to hold yours, the shadows from the door blocked the view of anyone looking, “yes, Crosshair?” Your voice. So frail, so soft.

He took his helmet off as you slid your hood off as well. He rested his helmet under his arm, while he took off his glove. He pulled you closer, this was probably the only time he’ll ever get to do this again, he brought the flower he held behind his back, fixing it into your hair as he pushed it back. “Tell me you love me” he can’t believe that he actually said that, but it was true, he couldn’t love you until you said you did, and you almost did. “Cross, I love you” it didn’t sound as real as before, but he took it nonetheless. The doors started to open, “I love you too Mesh’la” he gave you one last kiss, pulling your hood up to hide the flower, then sliding his helmet on before acting like he only did what he was suppose too. Your hand left his side as he felt the snap of a button and stood up again

He let you walk through, following until you both went and met your parents. Another group of Clones just like Cross were there too, “Y/n, how was your day?” You mother asked, fixing your clothes and making you presentable. “It was fine” the others thought you spoke fine and how royalty should, but Cross knew that it was just a play. Fake. “Now, how do we thank Crosshair?” Your father asked, pushing you forward to him, you didn’t want to make it seem like you had gotten comfortable around him. “Thank you, Crosshair, for today” you didn’t look at him, the feelings would only come back. Crosshair looked around making sure his brothers weren’t listening before speaking, “You’re welcome...Cyar’ika” you only hoped your mother hadn’t heard. You turned and seen her talking to the other Clones and your father, you smiled and shook your head at Crosshair. You could see by how his armor moved he laughed a little as well. “Go on a clean up now” your mother ushered you as gave Crosshair one last smile before leaving.

He didn’t even get to tell you that he would see you again. That may have not been true, and he knows he might not ever see you again, he watched as his Hunter grabbed the boxful of credits. He was getting paid from his happiness from, love, if you will. He didn’t do or say anything when your father thanked him one last time, the Batch looked at him then left. He was quiet on the way back, even Tech tried to start a conversation with him. Back on the Marauder, everyone went their separate ways, Crosshair went to his bed, Echo not to far, while Wrecker and Omega played with Lula and Batcher. Hunter and Tech were up at the front figuring out where to go next. Crosshair put his stuff away, standing his rifle up against the wall and his Helmet on his cleaning kit. Then he remembered your bag!

He took it off, looking through it only to find a few flowers and, a teddy bear much like Lula? He stifled a laugh, he sat it up on his bed and put your bag in his locker. He reached to grab whatever was in his pocket around his belt, and it was your necklace. When did you give it to him? Was it when you first bought something? Or at the restaurant maybe? It didn’t matter, he felt bad for not giving it back. “That looks like the doll I told my friend to get” Omega pointed out, Crosshair only scoffed, and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. “I heard she got it today, at the market” he attention piqued since he was at the market with ‘Omegas friend’ that was a ‘she’ “what’s her name?” He asked, looking over at Omega while she held Lula and pretended to play with the doll that he had. “Y/n, she lives here too, but I didn’t get a chance to see her since we were doing that mission” his eyes widen at your name. You. You were friend with Omega? He nodded, maybe you were going to see each other again soon.

———

This request was from long ago and I’m so sorry. I wanted to make it better but I have other, so part 2 will be even better. I promise!

#Crosshair the bad batch #Crosshair x reader #Hunter #tbb #Star Wars tcw #oneshot #requested

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costellos · 3 years

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a/n: here are all the Bucci gang asks from last Thurday’s Halloween headcanon ask game! I decided to compile them into one giant post bc... hoo boy... there were a lot. nonetheless, thanks for participating, friends! this was so much fun!! (also, side note, there are still a ton in my ask box. I’ll get to those sometime this week, so hang tight!)

tw: minor gore mention in Abbacchio and Fugo’s descriptions

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang & some misc. halloween headcanons!

bruno bucciarati.

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@buuni asked: ahhh the Halloween emoji game seems fun !! could I ask for Bruno 🍂 thank you !! And I hope you’re doing well this spooky season 🐇💕

╚ ——————————————— ╝

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

participating in All Souls Day. although Bucciarati was raised Catholic, I don’t think he’d remain a practicing one. still, there’s something comforting about honoring the deceased. he’d tell you fun, little stories about his father and the kind of household Bucciarati was raised in. you can’t help but notice how happy he looks as he talks. how his eyes sparkle, that rare, genuine smile on his lips. at the end of the day, he tucks a chrysanthemum behind your ear and places a kiss on your temple. “I appreciate your patience, amore,” he hums, that smile still on his lips. “it means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

leone abbacchio.

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@heartsllabyul asked: OMGOMGOMG TOYAAAAAA 🍂🍿 with the loml leone abbacchio please 🥺

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

trying seasonal foods. Abbacchio finds a lot of it fascinating since “fall” isn’t really a season in Italy. it gets colder sure, but the culture around autumn isn’t nearly as big as it is in your country. he thinks a lot of autumn-based foods are odd. pumpkin spice anything tastes artificial to him, though he thinks butternut squash soup is decent. his favorite is spiked apple cider! but he’d never admit it. he thinks it’s entertaining watching you desperately search for some seasonal food that he’d like.

🍿 how they react to watching a horror movie

he doesn’t! Abbacchio doesn’t see the appeal behind horror movies. besides, his time as a police officer and mobster has made it difficult for him to see them as anything other than cheap entertainment. and that goes for slashers, psychological thrillers, and gorey flicks. despite all that, he’ll watch horror movies if you like them. he finds your interest endearing. he gets more embarrassed than he’d like to admit when you hold onto his arm as you watch.

giorno giovanna.

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anonymous: giorno + 🏠🍂? Abbababy Anon asked: Hmm hmm~ how about 🎃 for Fugo and Giorno?

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🏠 how they would react to being in a haunted house

pretty well! Giorno isn’t someone who scares easily. the most he’ll do is take a step back when something gets him. he keeps his fingers laced with yours, ready to advance (or abandon ship) whenever you’re ready.

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

watching meteor showers. autumn is an astronomy hot spot, an event that he would love to share with you. anything about life and human existence is a topic of interest of Giorno. how to preserve it, how to observe it. he’d happily share everything that he knows with you. Giorno would take you far away from the city, far enough for you to clearly see the night sky, and far enough to be completely alone. but once the meteor shower starts, strangely, he wouldn’t be watching what seems to be falling stars. no, his eyes would be locked on his other favorite spectacle: the person sitting right beside him.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

not seriously, and he’s not a big fan of it. he hates scooping out the pumpkin’s guts to start carving. the wet and sticky texture, along with the smell... no thanks. he’d rather watch you do it. and once you’re finished, he’d be happy to sprinkle some cinnamon in so that the pumpkin smells more palatable once it’s lit.

guido mista.

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@zellyroo asked: 🍂 and 🎃 w/ mista please? 💛💛

╚ ——————————————— ╝

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

Mista loves picking apples. it’s a laid-back activity with a high return rate. spending time with you and getting food while feeding the Pistols? count him in. plus, he loves feeling like the perfect boyfriend when he has to help you grab those hard-to-reach apples. and dear god, don’t get him started on apple cider donuts. oof. he could eat 10, easily.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

very seriously. he’s seen so many cool designs, how hard can it be? Mista quickly learns, however, that carving pumpkins is quite difficult. you laugh when you hear him curse under his breath as he tries to cut through it. the Pistols bully him for his ugly design, but it’s hard to understand them when their mouths are stuffed with pumpkin seeds. Mista just tells them to shut it. in the end, he gives up on his elaborate design, opting for something more simple. after all, he hates anything that complicates his life (and boy, is this stupid pumpkin doing just that). it comes out like any other jack-o’-lantern.

narancia ghirga.

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anonymous asked: Hi; May I ask 🧙‍♀️ for Narancia, please? Thank you! :D 🧡

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🧙 if they would dress up & what they would dress as

it would take a little convincing to get Narancia to dress up. he really, really wants to do it, but he doesn’t want to come off as childish! you’d have to tell him that everyone in the U.S. dresses up on Halloween. but once he’s convinced, he’s convinced. he’d be bouncing a variety of ideas with you; he’d probably have a new one every hour. in the end, he’d settle on something spooky with you, like dressing up as zombies! (much to Fugo’s dismay.)

pannacotta fugo.

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anonymous asked: 🧟‍♂️ 🍂 for Fugo! Abbababy Anon asked: Hmm hmm~ how about 🎃 for Fugo and Giorno?

╚ ——————————————— ╝

🧟‍♂️ a non-serious fear that they have

zombies. the idea of a virus spreading, how it wrecks your immune system and makes you lose control of yourself... it reminds him too much of Purple Haze. on a less serious note, he just thinks they look gross. he’s seen his fair share of innards and bodily fluids during his time in Passione, but. still. eugh.

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

corn mazes, surprisingly! it was one of those things he thought was stupid at first, but loved once he was actually in one. the maze attendant gave you both a series of riddles mapped according to different intersections in the field. Fugo had a blast trying to figure it out; after all, it was just one giant puzzle. he had a smug look for the rest of the day once he found out that he beat Mista’s time.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

too seriously for it to be fun. being raised in a demanding household has built him to be a huge perfectionist. carving pumpkins was something he thought would be really easy until he got to it himself. the pumpkin’s rind is so difficult to cut through that it makes his lines look jagged. and god, he was not expecting it to be so messy. Fugo had this elaborate design planned out, but once he finished, he ended up with a standard jack-o’-lantern face. you’ll have to remind him that it still looks great.

trish una.

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anonymous asked: 🍂 and 🎃 for trish?

╚ ——————————————— ╝

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

getting fall-themed coffee, obviously! but not pumpkin spice lattes. god, no. Trish thinks they’re overdone. she’d rather go for anything with caramel and / or cinnamon. bonus points if it’s sugary (bitter coffee is only tolerable). she laughs when you get whipped cream stuck on your top lip, but her honey-sweet giggle is always followed by her swiping her thumb over your face. it’s a great excuse to touch you.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

not too seriously. at least not initially. she sees it as another part of American culture that she doesn’t understand. but when she sees how much fun you’re having, she can’t help but get into it herself. it’s a fun past time, albeit difficult (who knew these gourds were so thick?). Trish makes it her personal goal to make her pumpkin look nicer than yours. although she’s unsuccessful in her endeavor, she’d admit that pumpkin carving was “just okay” — aka really fun.

#bucci gang #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #headcanons #golden wind #part 5 #ask game response #giorno giovanna #Bruno Bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #Narancia Ghirga #Pannacotta Fugo #trish una #gore mention /#after about 3 months of running this blog #I finally got a Trish request #bless u anon :')#she was a joy to write for

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hankwritten · 3 years

Text

Long Time Listener, First Time Caller

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @tokyotrain, Music

1. Reveille

There had never, ever, in the history of time or space, an instrument Demo hated more.

The bugle reverberated through the open window that someone had conspicuously left open, just in case the man in bed wouldn’t have been awakened by its bellows piercing through the glass. Not that that would ever happen. Demo was pretty sure he could’ve heard that damn instrument all the way in Hell, and grasped blindly for the pillow he could smother his own face in. It didn’t help. He shouldn’t be able to taste the cacophony the bugle was making, but there was the sting of copper on his tongue, as though his gums were bleeding in revolt.

“I’m going to kill him,” he muttered into the three layers of feathered pillows.

By the time he stumbled down to breakfast, there were bags under his eye, diluted homicidal intent on his face, and his fluffiest robe around his shoulders.

“And he’s finally up,” Mum said, and sipped her tea. Usually she’d be giving him an earful about his lazy behind tarrying in making her morning cup, but since she was smirking at his disheveled state, Soldier must have brewed it for her.

“Grrnn…” her son replied.

Coffee was the only thing that would make this morning better. Thankfully, there was a pot already brewing; Soldier wasn’t that heartless.

“I see you have acquired your morning cup of Joe!” Soldier said when he finally retired from his routine, sweeping into the kitchen on a wave of wholly unwelcome cheer. Beyond him—since the mansion didn’t have a flagpole, he’d found ways to make do—a rake was shoved into the lawn with a Stars ‘n Stripes bandana tied around it. This he erected every day at dawn. “Excellent! Now that you are refreshed and full of energy, you are capable of participating in post flag ceremony drills!”

Demo skipped the not on your life and went straight to, “I’m going to take that bloody thing and re-twist it until you can hang yourself with it.”

Mum laughed, and Soldier grinned jubilantly, confident in the knowledge that he would always win mornings.

2. Taunt

“Whomp whomp whaaaa,” the stupid bloody trombone played at him.

Half delirious from blood loss, Demo bared his teeth at the smug BLU above him who, as soon as he finished taunting, promptly executed his unwilling audience with a shotgun blast to the head.

This was the fifth time this had happened today, and Demo was pissed. Where was Soldier even keeping that thing? Every bloody time there was no sign of the instrument whatsoever, then as soon as victory was assured he reached into hammer space and pulled out five feet of tubing! It was ridiculous to drive a man crazy under the best of circumstances—but having it be your partner was something that garnered a certain degree of necessary revenge.

Demo had had enough. It was about time he did some stooping to Soldier’s level.

The next day, Demo managed to shove Soldier off Upward’s scaffolding with a well-timed shield bash. He couldn’t have hoped for a better opportunity, perfectly executed so Soldier hadn’t even gotten a kill on him that day, which might have ruined the ‘surprise’. He stood, one foot on the Soldier-shaped hole in the wood, and leaned on his knee.

“Nice of you to drop in!” he called.

“Eugh,” Soldier grumbled, impaled haphazardly on various bits of wood.

“As long as we’re both taking a breather, mind if get a bit of piping practice in?”

Not waiting for a reply, Demo pulled out the bagpipes that had been eagerly awaiting their time in the sun. Sitting as they had been for the past five years in the attic, derelict ever since he’d purchased them on a lark, he didn’t blame them. When he flexed the bag, dust came out the mouthpiece.

“Oh no,” Soldier said.

“Oh yes!” Demo disagreed, and began to play.

Soldier was in a very unfortunate situation, arm broken the exact wrong way to keep him from covering his own ears. Thus he was forced to listen as Demo played out a belching and eardrum-bleeding anti-tune, rippling the open air above the drop off with painful ineptitude.

“Never played a day in me life,” Demo said cheerfully as he ceased blowing into the bellows.

“And you should never do so again!” Soldier accused. “The only positive thing I can say about your first attempt is that thank God it is over!”

“Over?” Demo smirked. “Nah, there’s another four movements to get through.”

Soldier’s head flopped back in defeat, helmet rolling off into the abyss and eyes pointing at the sky. “Jesus and Thomas Edison, please give me strength.”

This was not heard over the resuming of what only the foolish and the damned would refer to as ‘music’.

3. Radio

“Do not touch that dial, maggot!”

“I’m shotgun, I get radio privileges.”

“Guh,” Soldier complained as Demo flipped until the NMDX began to flow from the box, polluting the airwaves with its electronic beats. “What even is this hippie garbage?”

“It’s disco, laddie!”

Demo was already grooving in his seat, dead set on enjoying the new wave in direct defiance of his partner’s annoyed twitch. Or, perhaps, maybe because of it.

Soldier grumbled. “Doesn’t make any damn sense! What’s a duck doing at a disco in the first place?”

“He wasn’t a duck when he went there,” Demo scoffed. “It’s like you’re not even listening to the song.”

“I’m trying not too.”

“Fine then! What do you like to listen to in the car?”

Soldier hummed quietly for a second, the fading carols of Rick Dees and His Cast of Idiots catching on the notes and escaping into the hum of the highway. After a moment of contemplation, Soldier peeled his eyes from the road and began to rummage about in the center console. This caused him to swerve wildly along the highway, other cars blaring their horns as the blue Camaro glided over the dotted line. Demo watched these events with mild interest.

“Aha!” Soldier exclaimed, emerging with an 8track clasped triumphantly in one hand. “This’ll get us to Springerville without all that play-it-backwards-to-alter-your-brainwaves nonsense!”

He slid the track into the Camaro’s player.

“…Welcome to the audio edition of the Farmer’s Almanac, for the year of our lord, 1972.”

“Oh god…”

“Hah!” Soldier brightened. “Now this is what I am talking about!”

It was going to be a long four hours.

4. Folk

Demo didn’t mind Soldier’s record, to be honest.

It seemed to be about something at least, more than he was used to the things Soldier liked being ‘about’ anything that wasn’t unquestioning patriotism. Sometime he wondered why, of all the folk records in the world, Soldier had decided to settle on Dust Bowl Ballads as his fixation in the realms of music. Americana of all kinds of blended together in Demo’s opinion, but despite the repetitive twang of the banjo and the stifling trite melody, even he could tell there was a story of deep melancholy to be found between the harmless little tunes.

So it wasn’t the fact that Soldier had a record. It was the fact that Soldier had a record, singular.

The idea that a person might purchase multiple albums over the course of their life and play them at different times when the mood struck them never seemed to have been explained to the Soldier. His concept to the record player was this: play the first side. When it was finished, flip it over and play the second side.

Repeat.

For hours.

No matter how sweet Woody Guthrie’s crooning was, having it repeated over and over again day in and day out could give anyone’s otherwise delightful performance all the dulcet notes of prison moonshine. It didn’t bother Soldier one bit it seemed—he would hum to himself merrily as he sat on the chaise, perfectly content to dissemble his shotgun on the coffee table while the same fifteen songs played.

“Y’know love,” Demo tried. “The reason records don’t come glued on to their players is because you can put other ones on. Look.”

He delicately switched out Ballads for something from his own collection, setting the needle so it could fall where it willed.

Soldier eyed the player dubiously as an entirely different style began to fall from the trumpet’s maw, grease rag in hand.

“I don’t get it,” he said as the first refrain came to a close. “You can’t understand a word she’s saying. What’s the point if you don’t know what’s going on?”

“You can’t understand it because it’s in Gaelic, lad.”

Soldier furrowed his brow. “Are you being vulgar at me right now, maggot?”

“Ach, no! I…” Demo sighed. Sometimes why he wondered why he even bothered. “Gaelic’s the language. It’s rare that anyone’ll make records in traditional tongues, but I had a few and I just thought…ah never mind.”

Gently he slid the record back into its sleeve and put Ballads back on.

“…Okay,” was all Soldier said, still frowning as Demo exited the room.

Demo wasn’t so callous to admit he hated the damn thing aloud, not when he could tell it made Soldier honestly, genuinely happy. They’d rib each other for their interests all the time, but not for something this important, and he resigned himself to having Woody as an unwanted houseguest for the rest of time.

That was, until a dreadful cold found him alone in the living room and unwilling to move.

The sickness (and Mum) had demanded he get plenty of bed rest, but he was just so bloody tired of spending all his time between the same four walls and occasionally the bathroom. He’d thought, well, there’s no harm in a quick trip downstairs, only to discover that once he’d gone horizontal on the couch, he lost all motivation to go back up those stairs.

That was how Soldier found him, cocooned in every blanket in the living room, blinking up pitifully as sniffled at his partner. To his credit, Soldier didn’t chastise him for sneaking out of bed; he simply sighed, moved the tissues box closer, and got Demo a cup of tea.

This was all unsurprising, if sweet. What was surprising was—as Demo lay with his back to the majority of the room—the sound of a record sliding into the player. A moment later the room was reendowed with Fear a Bhàta, the song flowing over his senses as he huddled for warmth under his blanket pile. He lifted his head to look at Soldier, who merely shrugged. That was all. Then he sat down on a chair near his Demoman and opened up an issue of Guns & Haircuts.

After that, sometimes Demo would come home to find a piece from his library playing, wafting through the mansion’s halls with no objection from its audience. If Jane had truly changed his mind, or was just doing it for Demo’s benefit, Demo couldn’t tell, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

5. Piano

“Nothing?” Demo asked as his hands stilled across the keys, the last notes echoing in the music room to the resounding absence of symphony. The only thing left to fill it was the painfully normal sounds of two people simply being alive. “Not a single word of complaint?”

Soldier grinned, and shrugged. “Maybe we found something we can agree on.”

“And that something so happens to involve me doing all the work.” But despite that he grinned, taking Soldier’s hand and rubbing a thumb across the bones along its back, a private concert undergone and concluded. “You should help out. Grab a microphone, lay sultrily across my piano. That’d jazz up the performance.”

“Sounds like a good way to break a piano.”

“Excuses excuses.”

Soldier leaned down, capturing Demo’s mouth in a kiss, knees pressed against the back of the bench, hand still in Demo’s. When he they parted, Demo thought of how he always tasted like gunpowder, no matter how long it’d been.

Soldier smiled against Demo’s lips. “Play us another?”

“So demanding,” Demo smiled, and put fingers back to ivory.

#demosolly #boots n bombs #tf2 fanfiction

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neon-junkie · 4 years

Text

Blood Sport - Male Version

Summary: You beating Micah to an inch of his life has done nothing but give in a hard-on. Maybe you should make use of this?

Pairing: Micah Bell x m!Reader

Word Count: 2699

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Violence, Blood, Bruises, Hickeys, Fight, Choking, Dirty talk, Smut, Anal sex, Creampies, Fingering.

Notes: I finally got round to writing the male version, yay!!! It’s just as sinful :)

Female Version

You hated him. You despised him. You loathed him.

This man, this pathetic excuse for a man. He was the worst person you'd ever met, the worst thing God had put upon this Earth.

This past week he'd been especially nasty to you. Normally, the two of you would rarely interact. When you first joined the gang he tried it on with you a few times; the usual cheeky pickup line followed by a groan when you rejected him. The girls had warned you about him after your first interaction, concerned that he was just trying to tempt you onto him so he could mock you for your sexuality. They then ensured you that anyone would come to your need if he ever took things too far. You knew the camp was safe but continued to question why this rat slept amongst them.

On this pleasant day, he had made racist remarks to both Charles and Lenny, made a snide remark to Grimshaw, had almost gotten into a fight with Arthur, and had tripped over Uncle whilst he was sleeping and blamed it on him. Wonderful.

Thankfully, the day was almost over. Well, for most of the gang it was. You were put on guard duty for a good few hours into the night. No bother. Horseshoe Overlook was actually a quiet location and you'd never seen or heard anyone try and get close to the camp, despite it being so close to the main road.

So there you were, gun in hand as you strolled around the forest, a few hours into your shift. The night had been peaceful but of course, someone was on their way over to ruin it. You heard rustling coming from behind you and turned around just in time to see that distinct white hat figure stumbling about. Sigh.

"There you are," Micah slurred as he approached you, resting his weight against the tree as he put his hands on his gunbelt, trying to look cool.

"Here I am," you sighed.

"Oh, don't be like that. I ain't here to annoy you," Micah rolled his eyes.

"What are you here for then?" A question that you probably shouldn't have asked.

"You know, darlin'. I could do with your help."

"I ain't your darlin'. And what do you need? You want me to go push you off that cliff?" you snapped.

"Easy there," Micah raised his hands, laughing slightly. He slowly walked towards you, his hands still raised. "How about I show you what I need help with, huh?"

"Just tell me. I ain't here to play games." You try and push him away from you with the bottom of your gun, but he pushes it aside and steps forward.

"Now now. Just c'mere," Micah says as he puts a hand on your waist.

Nope.

You punch him in the stomach with the bottom of your gun, shoving him backward. He manages to remain standing, but was hunched over.

"Eager there, ain't you?" Micah says as he straightened himself.

"I ain't afraid to beat you to an inch of your life," you reply, standing upright.

"Do it then!"

"What?" He caught you off guard.

"Go on, do it! I know you hate me. Why not take out all that anger, huh? Enjoy the satisfaction of seeing me walk around for the next few weeks all roughed up, knowing you did it," Micah approaches you again. He tries to grab you but you manage to catch his wrist in time, holding it firmly. He doesn't pull away.

"Why are you so eager?"

"I wanna see what you're made of. I wanna see if men like you really can fight." That comment set you off. You let go of his wrist, dropped the gun to the floor, and planted a hard punch across his face.

Micah fell back to the ground with a large thud. He lies there for a second, one of his hands coming up to wipe at his face. Eventually, he looks up at you, still laying on the floor, his hat a few inches from him.

"Is that it?" Micah laughs. Ugh.

"I ain't here to.. do whatever this is," you reply as you begin to walk off. Micah grabs a hold of your ankle, making your blood boil.

"C'mon, I'm all defenseless. Just let all that anger out," he says as he pulls at your ankle.

"Fine!" You snap.

As quick as lightning, you kneel over him, your knees on either side of his hips. You grab him by the scruff of his shirt and start laying punches on him like there's no tomorrow. Micah takes it. You can hear him grunting with every hit you land, yet he doesn't fight back. His arms remain sprawled out by his sides, legs underneath you, making no effort to stop this.

What is with this man?! Why wasn't he fighting back?

There's blood everywhere, all over your shirt, fist, and his face. You stop, catching your breath. He was right, it felt amazing to let out all that anger. Micah's eyes are shut, one of them already swollen up, his nose and mouth covered in blood. He's panting too but somehow still conscious. Finally, he speaks.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Micah asks you as he opens his eyes.

"Feels good beatin' up a piece of shit like you, yeah," you admit.

"I ain't on about that," Micah replies. Micah rolls his hips, rubbing a rock-solid boner against your own. You hadn't realized that during your fight you'd let yourself sit on his lap, too distracted by smashing his skull in. Was it the friction that had made you hard? Or maybe the adrenaline?

"Eugh!" You yelp. You let go of his shirt, his head thudding back onto the ground.

Micah starts to laugh. He lets out that long, annoying laugh. The one he does when he knows he's right. It's so fake, it's sickly.

"You ain't moved off me tho, darlin'." He was right. You'd made no attempt to roll off him, no attempt to move your crotch away from his. "You enjoy this? You enjoy beatin' up big bad Micah Bell? Bet you're harder than a rock."

He was right. He was so right.

You weren't sure if this was a rush of adrenaline or a sick fetish you'd kept locked away for years, but he was damn right. You're not sure what to respond so you simply punch him again.

He laughs.

"You get off on this?" you snap at him, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt again.

"Yep," he blankly states.

Your eyes widen. He's making direct eye contact with you now, your face is red and inches away from his. He stank of whiskey and blood, his breathing still heavy.

"Can't help nature," Micah eventually states, breaking the silence.

You pause for a moment, taking it all in. You could either get up and walk away, hoping this would never occur or be mentioned, though you doubted that. Or use him, let your anger out whilst you finally get some cock. It had been months since you'd been laid and you were aching to get off. Maybe he'd noticed this? Maybe he'd peeked on you masturbating far too often? The second option sounded best; it was a win-win. Beat the fuck outta Micah whilst you use him for sexual pleasure, then threaten him and hope he never tells a soul about this.

"Go on, what you gonna pick, sweetheart? I can see you workin' this all out," Micah says, cutting off your train of thought.

"Alright, Mister Bell. You're gonna take this, you ain't gonna fight back. I'm gonna use you to get myself off. I'm gonna continue to beat the everloving fuck outta you. Then you're never gonna tell nobody about this. Alright?"

Micah doesn't reply, he just starts laughing again. Ugh! Of course, you punch him, again and again but he continues to laugh. So you give up and start choking him. He's caught off guard. His eyes widen as you wrap your hand around his throat, avoiding his windpipe and pushing on those soft spots under his jawline.

He's looking at you through bruised half-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly parted. His breathing is heavy, yet he's conscious enough to grasp your hips and start grinding up against you. What a sick man. You let go of his throat when you start to see his eyes shutting. He gasps for breath, smiling and grinding harder against you.

"I knew you were sick. I knew I was gonna have to push all your buttons in order to get something off you," Micah laughs. You punch him again.

"This a game for you?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Well, it's my turn to play now. Get your cock out and don't try anything," you order as you shuffle off him. You hear him chuckle as he begins to undo his belt.

You stand up to kick off one of your pant legs, leaving them and your undergarments around one ankle, one boot on the floor. You watch as Micah pulls out his cock and begins to stroke it, watching you undress. He's solid, his cock covered in veins and red at the tip. He's an average length and very girthy. Perfect. You climb on top of him. Thankfully and coincidentally, you had been playing with yourself earlier before going on guard duty, so you only needed a few moments and the small bottle of lube that you kept in your pocket for emergencies to get yourself ready.

You finally slide down onto him, letting out a moan through gritted teeth as he stretches you. You spend a moment sitting with his dick fully inside of you, letting yourself get used to it.

"Too big for you?" Micah teases. It gains him another punch across the jaw. That made his cock twitch. He chuckles for a moment but stops and rolls his head back the moment you start riding him.

You soon find a good pace, one of your hands gripping onto his shirt, the other placed beside his head. His eyes are shut and he's louder than you expected. He's moaning. Full-on moaning. He's loving every second of this. Loving the pleasure and the pain. His hands grip at your hips, encouraging you to bounce faster on him.

Micah lets out a particularly loud moan after you slam into him. You slap him this time, then firmly grasp at his throat.

"You wanna be caught?" you scold him. He doesn't respond verbally, but he grins. "God, you're so sick."

Micah attempts to laugh but you grip his throat tighter, making him yelp instead. He shuts his eyes and relaxes, enjoying that feeling of blood rushing around his brain as you choke him.

He tightens his grip on your waist, stopping you from riding him. He props his knees up, pushing you forward and begins bucking into you. Hard. His motion catches you off guard, making you yelp out in pleasure.

"Atta boy," he praises you once your hand comes off his throat to grip at the ground, keeping yourself somewhat upright.

One of his hands is around your waist, the other reaching down to firmly grasp at your ass, gripping onto it for dear life. It was only fair that he left some marks on you too.

He's fucking you good, far too good. You hate to admit it, but if you knew he was this good then you would have come onto him a long time ago. Your moans are getting ridiculously loud; Micah has quietened down, only letting out a few grunts, too focused on abusing your hole.

You had to be quiet. You really REALLY did not want to be found like this. Fucking Micah was already sinful, but fucking Micah when he's bruised and covered in his own blood? How were you meant to explain that?

You lay your chest against his, gripping his jaw as you tilt his head to the side. You bite down. Hard. Leaving your marks all over him. He's moaning again, a lot quieter this time.

"Claimin' me as your own, hm? Didn't know you wanted me that bad," Micah teases.

You didn't. You did not want this man, especially after the many comments he had made towards you and your sexuality. It's funny, isn't it? The homophobes are always the ones in denial. However, you knew you were going to get off to this in the future, the feral was Micah was fucking you. You knew you'd probably have Micah come find you whenever he's horny, and you knew that you'd probably go looking for him whenever you just wanted to let off some steam. It was a mutual agreement and you were surprisingly fine with it.

"Go on, cover me. I want eeeeeveryone in the camp to be questioning why I'm beat up but covered in hickeys," he grins, laughing, moving his neck across and encouraging you.

So you do.

Micah looks worse than he's ever been. The side of his neck is purple, bite marks all over it. His nose is probably broken, his eye's swollen, and there's damp blood all over his beard and parts of his shirt. Yet he continues to laugh and grin, encouraging you in between thrusts.

"Good boy. You're loving this, ain'tcha?"

You remain silent, but let out a yelp against his skin as he slams his cock harder than usual into you. Your hole begins to ache, well used. You were going to be sore for the next few days.

"I'm close, darlin'. God, I can't wait to fill that ass up with my cum."

"Is that so?" you ask as you prop yourself back up over him, your hands on either side of his head. You give him a swift slap to the cheek, your hand stinging afterward.

"Still got some life in ya? Go on, let it allll out. Why don-" You cut him off, pressing your hand firmly on his throat.

"Shut up and fuck me. God, you really do love the sound of your own voice," you order. Micah obliges and picks up his pace. You can tell he's close, and so are you. Your hand reaching down to tug at your own cock.

Finally, he finishes his high, pulling you down hard onto his cock as he spills inside of you. You jerk yourself off, following shortly after, your cum spilling over his already ruined shirt. You clench around his cock, making him yelp as you milk him for all he's worth. The two of you are panting, sweaty, bloody messes. Eventually, you roll off him, lying beside him as you catch your breath.

Micah is the first to move. He rolls onto his side and begins to kiss your kneck, his hand reaching down to gently jerk your already over-stimulated cock. You don't react at first, too worn out and sadly still loving the attention. His hand moves down from your cock, two fingers slipping onto your abused hole, catching you off guard as you let out a moan. You can feel his cum spilling out of you as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Love that feelin'," he says against your neck. Sicko. But you also enjoy it.

Your eyes suddenly open as you feel him bite down on his neck.

"Stop!" you yelp. "You're gonna give me a hickey. I don't want people seein' that."

And he somehow leaves one on you. Fuck.

He's chuckling as he pulls his fingers out of you, still propped up on his arm beside you.

"Everyones gonna know what's happened," he grins.

"They won't cause you said you ain't gonna tell anyone," you frown.

"I ain't. I'm a man of my word. But as dumb as these people are, they can put two and two together. Especially with those bloody knuckles of yours."

He was right. You didn't realize how bloody your knuckles were. They were blood red, yet you weren't sure if it was his blood, your blood, or just bruises starting to form. Either way, it ached and there was no way you could hide this. And now you had a hickey to match, perfect!

That piece of shit. This is what he wanted.

You huffed, getting up to wipe yourself down and put your clothes back on. You rush, hearing Micah laugh as he does the same, slowly standing up. You begin to walk away but Micah grabs at your arm, spinning you around.

"Where you goin' so fast?"

"Away from you."

"Why? We're matchin' now. Can't have you goin' anywhere without me." What a nightmare that'd be.

"This is a sexual agreement, Micah. I ain't your sweetheart," you reply as you pull away from his grasp.

"Oh? So you do wanna fuck me again?"

"...Yes."

101 notes · View notes

captainillogical · 4 years

Text

Home Ch.2

The domesticity of living with an alien who hasn’t quite had the chance at a normal life.

Distant Lands sequel.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

The door in front of you is red.

The two of you are standing outside the entrance to, er, what the both of you will now be calling home. It’s.. a strange feeling. You’re excited to be here. And although you’re eternally grateful for the crystal gems for taking you in when you needed it, you’re also happy to be starting a new chapter in your life.

Pearl should’ve had the last three of your boxes brought up already for you, as you didn’t really feel like doing that all yourself all the way up to the 9th floor if you’re honest with yourself. Your body is still pretty sore in general, especially your legs.

You watch Spinel pull keys out of her pocket and go for the door.

"Why weren't those in your gem?" You ask as she fumbles with said keys in hand. "I didn't even know you had pockets.."

"Sometimes I forget." She furrows her eyebrows, a bit of her tongue peeking out as she squints, trying to get the key into the deadbolt right. It's kind of comical. "Don't act like you're expecting me to lose 'em already."

"Eh." You shrug, and watch her struggle for a couple more seconds. "Did you want help with that, orrrr,"-

She opens the door, interrupting your sentence with an enthusiastic whoop, and you can see the formidable stack of boxes in the small living room. You take one last look at the long sprawling hallway and the many, many doors on this floor and wonder what your neighbors are like.

"Are 'ya gonna just stand out there or what?" She says from inside the doorway. Looking a bit further down the hall, you can see that one of the doors has several strange notes taped to it - as if there's some sort of weird neighborly interaction going on there.

One of the other front doors opens just as Spinel wraps her hand around your wrist, and she nearly yanks you into the apartment. She slams the door shut behind you almost forcefully.

"You're not even gonna let me introduce myself to the neighbors?" You say, like you had any intention other than to snoop a little. Spinel fixes you with a look. It makes you feel a little giddy when she looks at you like she’s full of impatient affection, which makes you want to be a little obtuse on purpose.

"You can do that later." She folds her arms in slight irritation that you can definitely see in her eyes. "I've been wanting you alone for what feels like weeks now."

"You're a little dramatic," You walk further into the living room, taking note of the small deck outside the sliding glass doors. "It's only been a few days, and we've texted."

“I’m not, and you and I both know that it ‘ain’t the same.” She says from behind you, following you closely. You’re pretending you have no idea what she’s talking about.

You take a peek inside the small kitchen, and you love it. It’s cute. Gems don’t need to eat or store food, but these particular apartments have small amenities in place, as well as a bathroom and bedroom just to keep up with building code. You think it’s kind of hilarious that regular city ordinance gets a say in how aliens should build things, and you kind of wish you were present for the meetings that Bismuth had to have had with them.

You open the fridge, and realize nothing is in there. Oh, right. Of course. You don’t know what you were expecting.

Closing the fridge door, you feel a presence next to you and turn to realize that Spinel is RIGHT there. Like, maybe six inches from your face.

“What,” You say, feeling your heartbeat pick up a little. She’s watching you expectantly, as if she’s waiting for something. “Am I not allowed to check out our place? You’ve already been here for the last few days.”

She takes a half step closer, and grabs your face with the both of her hands to kiss you.

Ah.

Her lips are soft.

You won’t lie, you’ve been thinking about her like this on a constant feedback loop ever since the both of you confessed your feelings.

You exhale out your nose and tilt your head enough to deepen the kiss, and she hums against your lips. She slides down one of her hands to the small of your back, and presses you flush against her, almost possessively. Your face heats up a little at the lack of space between you two.

Your phone dings twice in your pocket, and Spinel makes some kind of displeased sigh against your mouth as if you were even going to answer it. One of your hands finds its way to the side of her face, and you trail it over to the edges of her hairline just to touch more of her. She leans into it automatically. Her hair is soft to the touch, and you wish you could run your fingers through it.

The hand on your back is searingly hot through the shirt you're wearing, and you can only focus on that and the sensation of her lips on yours.

Your phone dings three more times, and Spinel growls impatiently, and well, that certainly doesn’t do anything to you, no sir.

She pushes you against the fridge, and you’re extremely embarrassed about the groan that comes out of your mouth - she doesn’t seem to care because she’s kissing you a lot more forcefully now. It’s like she can’t keep her hands off you.

“Spinel,” You pull away to breathe, lips wet. She goes right for your neck.

“What?” She hisses against your skin, and you shudder. A gloved hand slides up your shirt.

“I should probably run to the store for a grocery trip before it closes, there’s no food here and I’d like to eat this week.”

She pulls her mouth away from your skin, and your neck feels a little exposed.

“Can’t we do that tomorrow?” She sighs, giving you another look.

“If I wanna starve tonight, sure.” You reply, deadpan. It's not like you actually want this to stop..

“Uggghhhhhhhhhh FINE.” She rolls her eyes, and removes herself from you like it’s the worst thing to ever happen to her. “But we’re continuin’ this later.”

“You mean I’M continuing this later,” You poke her right in the gem, and she glares at you. Her cheeks tint a darker pink, and you find yourself grinning. “If I have anything to say about it, anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?” She replies, lowering her eyes at you in a way that makes the little hairs on your neck stand up.

“Maaaaaybe.” You side step her, walking back towards the living room before you decide that actually yeah, maybe fucking her in the kitchen is a great idea right now.

“I hate the tone you’re using.”

“Why, does it make you nervous?” You open one of your boxes of clothes, looking for a sweater to wear out. A specific one. The one with the strawberries on the front.

“No, you’re just smug.” She says, and you bark out a laugh.

You can’t find the sweater you want, which means you put it in a non-clothing box, or you left it at Steven’s. Ugh. Actually most of the clothes you’re rifling through kind of smell weird even though they should be clean. You shrug, coming to the conclusion you’ll also have to do laundry tonight.

“Do we have a washing machine?” You ask her. She looks at you a little confused.

“A what?”

“Y’know, like for washing my clothes. These smell funky and I’d like to wear something tomorrow.” You open one of your regular boxes, but it’s just filled with books. Many, many books.

“Oh! Yeah, Bis mentioned something about there bein’ one on the first floor. Although, I wouldn’t exactly mind ‘ya not wearing anything tomorrow.” She grins, canines shining in the low light of the apartment.

“I’m not walking around naked, idiot.” You sigh at her, trying to keep your blush at bay. She’s so blunt with her affections now that you don’t really know how to deal with it. “Let’s just go to the store and get it over with.”

You grab your bag, making sure you have your wallet on you, and the both of you head out the door.

Spinel locks the door behind you, and the both of you make your way back down to the base level via elevator.

There’s a nearby market that’s still open for the next two hours, and the two of you end up walking there as it’s only a couple of blocks away.

You look over at the neon sign saying ‘Open’ with the hours listed, and can see quite a few people and gems inside. Eugh. You were kind of hoping it wouldn’t be busy at like, 7pm, but here we are.

“I hope this won't take too long,” You head inside, Spinel trailing next to you. “I don’t even think you have toilet paper, so I’m gonna have to get quite a few things.”

“Toilet paper?”

“Exactly my point.” You look around, seeing the cash registers at the front and the produce section immediately to your right. It’s.. a little loud in here.

Spinel is looking around in curious wonder, staring pretty hard at some of the sale display signs with obnoxious print.

You grab one of the carts off to the side, and make a beeline directly for the toiletries section, because you don't want to forget anything like you usually do.

"Hey! Don't leave me behind," You feel a hand grab yours, Spinel jogging briefly to catch up with you. "Why are 'ya being so fast? We've got time."

"Sorry, stores make me a little anxious when they have quite a few people in them," You narrowly avoid a few teenagers joking loudly and passing next to you. "I hate busy places."

"They ain't so bad. It's kinda lively." She replies, squeezing your hand.

You pass four different aisles until you get to the one you're aiming for, having to maneuver around a couple gems that are in the way. You catch one of them looking pointedly to the hand you're holding with Spinel, and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach lurch a little.

You hate shopping.

You stop your cart in the toothbrush area, because you might as well get a new one as well as some toothpaste.

"Ooooooooh." Spinel reaches out beside you, grabbing one of those sonic kids brushes with all the lights. "What does this do?"

You grab what you need, throwing it in your cart and looking at your girlfriend (even just referring to her like this inside your head makes you unbelievably giddy) who's.. intensely studying the characters on the toothbrush. She presses the button in the middle, and the whole thing lights up and starts playing music. Her eyes go wide.

"Is this some 'kinda torture device?" She pokes the spinning bristles, eyebrows shooting up inquisitively. She then presses it against her face, and her reaction to it is immediate unpleasantness, and you laugh at her.

"It just cleans your teeth, weirdo." You grab it from her, turning the annoying music off and placing it back onto the shelf. "Although, I bet I could find a way to torture someone with it."

"Let's test it on Peridot." She grins, eyes a little gleeful.

"Do you really want to try her? See what she's capable of?" You ask her, trying to stifle your laughter.

"Oh, jeez, 'ya probably right. Pretty sure she'd tie me to a chair and make me watch reruns with her." She answers disdainfully. “Maybe Lapis, then.”

“If you want to drown, sure.”

She continues to peer at the many kid’s toothbrushes on this shelf, and you walk a couple feet over to grab shower supplies. You toss a couple more objects into your cart, nabbing a pack of toilet paper as well and tossing it in.

“What’s this?” You hear her ask, and when you turn to glance at her she’s got a bottle in her hand. It looks like some ibuprofen or tylenol.

“Painkillers. Toss that in the cart will you?”

“It.. kills pain?” She stares at the bottle. “Why do humans need doctors if they have this?”

“They only temporarily ease pain. Mainly for headaches and a sore back and stuff.”

“You meatbags come up with some weird stuff, there’s so many different types..” She grabs another couple bottles, squinting at them and them placing them back on the shelf.

“Yeah, well us meatbags had to create solutions to make our lives a little less awful.” You roll your eyes at her terminology. “Not that I’d expect a fucking rock to understand.”

“A fucking rock,” Her mouth is agape in offence, and she crosses her arms in a huff. It’s so fucking cute. “At least I don’t gotta eat.”

“You could. I bet you’d liiiiiike it.”

“Yeah I’m ‘gonna pass on that one.” She scrunches her nose, as if the thought is wholly unappealing. You want to laugh.

“You liked sex.” You say bluntly, giving her a knowing look. She sputters, cheeks turning a much darker shade of pink.

“Shut upppppp! We’re in public, Y/N!” She glares at you, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning.

A couple turns their cart into the aisle you’re in, and you decide to say nothing further.. For now.

You push your cart out of the aisle, Spinel instantly grabbing for your hand again. You like that she just does it whenever she wants to.

You’re in the refrigeration section, and there’s a couple people here much to your displeasure. Some lady is loudly talking on the phone with one of her kids on speaker, and you glare a couple daggers her way even if she can’t see it.

Side-stepping a gem, you grab a block of cheese and some butter and you’re looking at the eggs when Spinel scoots right up to your side. She places her chin on your shoulder, and watches you open a carton to check the contents. The gesture has your heart doing a couple flips inside your ribcage.

“What ‘cha doooooin?” She inquires quite cutely, and you realize this probably looks weird to her.

“Trying to get a full, non cracked container of eggs.” You state. She grabs one from the open container you’re looking at. “Careful, only the outside is hard. The inside is kinda fluid-like.”

She squints at it in her palm. “That sounds disgusting. You eat these things like this? ‘Aint that crunchy?”

“You don’t eat it raw, normally.” You shoot her a quick look, and she’s looking at the egg like its existence disturbs her. “Most people cook them or add them to other things for consistency. Stop being so judgemental.”

“I’m not being judgemental..” She mutters, placing the egg back into your carton. This one’s got an egg that looks like it’s about to crack so you decide to put it back on the shelf. The woman talking on the phone near you howls out a laugh. “That lady sure is ‘annoying.” Her breath tickles your neck, and you hold back a shudder.

“Yeah, I hate people like her. It’s fucking rude honestly.” You mutter back, grabbing a different carton. The last three had eggs missing, weirdly enough. Are people just taking single eggs and sticking them in their pockets? “Like how hard is it to just place it against your ear? Why do the rest of us give a shit about what you’re eating for brunch tomorrow?” Spinel chuckles, vibrating against your shoulder. “I ever tell ‘ya that you’re amusing?”

“No, but I’ll remember that next time you call me unfunny.” This carton has all eggs intact inside, so you place it gently into your cart.

“Psssshhh.” She replies, and you move over to grab a half gallon of milk. You open the door to where all the milk is refrigerated, and Spinel makes a weird noise of disgust. “What the fuck is that? Why’s it white?”

“It’s just milk.” You give her a look. “And it’s white because of the proteins, chill. It comes from cows.” You point to the cow on the carton of 2% you’re buying. “Fucking judgey-ass gems..”

“That animal is in there??” She makes a face. “You guys are so weird.”

“No, idiot,” You laugh, trying to not lose your shit at her conclusions. You point to the udder. “They produce it, it’s not their flesh. Humans can do it too..”

“Can you do it?” She stares at you strangely.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You say, not wanting at all to elaborate on this and she barks out a laugh. You put the milk in the cart.

You’re in the bread aisle trying to figure out what kind of bagels you want, and Spinel is.. deeply studying the colorful bag clips hanging off the display strip on the side. You hear her grabbing the package and snapping the clips like crab claws, and you can’t help but snicker a little to yourself.

She doesn’t seem to notice when you wander off to the other short bread aisle, because there's a few more options here that you want to look at. You missed bread so much that you’re feeling like you could eat all of them.. So you grab three different kinds to toss in the cart.

“Y/N?” You hear shuffling from the other aisle, and the rising panic in Spinel’s tone. “Where’d you go..?”

You walk back over to where you left her, and she looks slightly stressed out. She makes eye contact with you and visibly relaxes immediately.

“Sorry, I was just grabbing something from the other side.” You say to her, and her hand shoots out to grab onto your arm. “I wasn’t going to leave you, if that’s what you’re worried about..”

You raise an eyebrow, and she rubs the back of her head, embarrassed.

“Sorry, I know it’s irrational.”

You move your hand to lace your fingers with hers in comfort, palm fitting nicely against it. She seems a little taken aback with your gesture, but she doesn’t say anything by it.

“It’s not irrational.” You squeeze her hand, and seeing no one else around you, you lean in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Y/N!” She hisses, looking around the aisle frantically as a small blush forms on her face. She places her other hand against where you kissed, like it’s somehow sacred. “In public?!”

“It’s not like there’s anyone around to see,” You can’t help the grin forming on your face. The lines on her cheeks look a little bolder with how flustered she is, and honestly? If you could pepper her face in kisses right now, you would. You’ve got this overwhelming amount of affection you’d like to give her, with nowhere to put it. Not until later, anyway. “God, you should see your face. It’s cute.”

“Will ‘ya shut up?!” She pointedly looks away from you, and you laugh. “I’m not cute.”

“I’ve got loads of proof that you are, but okay.” You give her hip a little bump, and her face looks back to yours to shoot out a glare that you’re not intimidated by in the least.

“Yeah, like what.”

“You know..” You trail off, and lean in close to the side of her face. You whisper something to her about the other morning, and she chokes, face going completely red.

“I’m going to KILL you one of these days, Y/N.” She retorts, avoiding your eyes on purpose. You give her another nudge, and you can see her try desperately to stop the grin forming on her face.

“Let me at least finish shopping,” You reply, grabbing your cart to swing around to get a few more things on your mental list.

It doesn’t take that long to get the other staples you need, and before you know it you’re standing in line at checkout. You start placing your items on the belt once the other customer is finally paying, and you watch Spinel as she hilariously just tosses the items out of the cart and onto the conveyor. Ahhhhhh yeah you knew she wasn’t exactly graceful, but still.

“You find everything you need?” The cashier makes small talk with you, as you see her eyebrow raise at Spinel’s heart-shaped gem. Said gem seems utterly fascinated by the clerk’s bagging speed.

“Yeah.” You politely answer, grabbing for your wallet as you watch the total rise. You maybe need another job, ugh..

Spinel raises an eyebrow and looks like she's about to say something asinine, so you step on her foot lightly to shut her up.

She yelps a little, and glares at you. You stifle a snicker, finishing the transaction so you two can get out of here.

Once you're done, Spinel makes the effort of just placing the bags of groceries inside her gem conveniently, so you don't have to carry anything the short distance home.

You don't give yourself the chance to relax much though because as soon as you get home and the groceries are put away, you've left Spinel to unpack your stuff as you go do a quick load of laundry.

The elevator dings and you're on the first floor again, hamper in hand. Opening the door to the communal washing room, you see several units here. There’s no one else around, and you’re so glad for that, honestly. Now you can look at memes in peace.

You fit all your clothes in one load thankfully, and you lean against the machine in wait after you fill what you need with soap. The wash cycle shouldn’t take too long, and you’ll go back upstairs briefly to help your girlfriend after you leave it on the drying cycle. You’re maybe in here alone for five minutes when a man and a giant basket of laundry comes in grunting. It’s another human.. You try not to stare too much.

“So, you live here?” He turns to say to you after dumping half his clothes in the machine in front of him. Of course he’s chatty.

“Yeah. Just moved in today.”

“Sweet, another human here! Now I won’t have to feel so alone.” He replies, swiping his brow lightly. He’s a bit older than you with some dark facial hair, and you don’t know how to say this.. He’s just extremely nonthreatening. “I live up on the 5th floor! Convenient for me since I work nearby, and the rent is so cheap..”

“How long have you lived here?” You ask, typing out a reply to Steven’s messages from earlier.

“A few months. It’s not as quiet as I hoped, gems are a bit on the wild side sometimes but everyone’s friendly!” He grins, pouring soap into his machine. “My boyfriend thinks it’s too loud, but he doesn’t pay the rent so he can’t complain. You live here alone?”

A boyfriend, huh? Maybe you can be friends with this guy.

“Nah, I moved in with my girlfriend.” You state, and the man just kinda stares at you for a moment, as he’s putting two and two together, realizing you’re the only two humans in the building.

“Are you dating a gem?” He asks a little apprehensively, and while you think you might be a little offended if someone else asked this way, the look on his face makes it obvious that he’s just extremely curious. “What’s that like?”

“Yes, and uh.” You stop, not knowing exactly how to answer, and the man barks out a laugh at the look on your face.

“You’re the only human I’ve ever met that’s dated a gem. I’m so telling my boyfriend, he’ll freak. He might have a buttload of questions for you next time I see you. Name’s George, by the way.” He holds out his hand in greeting.

“Y/N.” You take his hand to shake it, and the two of you talk for a little while as he asks you a few probing questions.

After ten minutes or so, your load is done and you put it in the dryer, saying your goodbyes to your new human neighbor.

On your way back upstairs, you manage to bump into a gem right as you turn to the hallway into your apartment.

“Oh! Pardon me,” The gem apologises, looking up from their cell phone.

It’s that same Rose Quartz from earlier.

“It’s you!” She says, slightly taken aback, but nonetheless pleased. “What do you happen to be doing here?”

“I live here.” You give her a small smile, and you notice her eyeing you up. Uh.

“That makes me very happy to hear.” She says in a way that kind of makes you a little nervous?

“Well, it’s nice bumping into you here, I’ll see you around!” You make quick for your door, and she watches you the entire time, smile on her face.

It gives you a bit of the heebie jeebies.

You slam the door behind you, and Spinel’s excited face greeting you immediately puts you at ease.

#spinel x reader #spinel #steven universe #spinel steven universe #home #my fic #su

107 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 4 years

Note

Found your account at almost 2AM and it was the first thing I thought of discovering in the morning. And look at me now, it's been almost an hour and I can't stop scrolling down cuz IT4S JUST SO AMAZING. Can i request some levihan angst AU about one of them being tortured then getting saved by the other one? Thank you for your magestic writing

ok, so it's set in modern setting but the events are similar to the uprising arc in canon???? anyways, i hope you like it, take care :)

Hange watched, disinterested, as a big burly man picked up a large knife and then crouched next to her.

“I would advise against it.” Hange noted nonchalantly.

The man stared at her, dumbfounded. “You would advise against what?”

“Doing that,” Hange nodded at the knife. “Hurting me.” She added, when she saw that her previous words didn’t help to clear the fog in the man’s eyes.

The man gave her a feral smile. “Really?” he cocked his head to the side. “Do tell me then why I shouldn’t hurt you.”

“Well, you do know who I’m married to, right?”

The man gave Hange another confused look, and Hange was honestly surprised by that. So he wasn’t one of the thugs, who kidnapped her so they could get their revenge on Levi? Was she kidnapped because someone actually needed her, and wasn’t just looking for the way to hurt Levi? Well, Hange thought to herself with a grin, that made this whole situation less humiliating. Even if Hange got caught like the biggest fucking idiot. Although, in her defense, she hadn’t been sleeping for the last two days, too engrossed in her research, and it made her less aware about her surroundings. However, Hange knew that this explanation wouldn’t work on Levi. Oh, her husband would get so furious, Hange could already picture his angry little face, with his eyes narrowed dangerously at her and his angry voice shouting at her to be more careful.

Hange returned her gaze to her kidnapper, squinting suspiciously at him. “You really don’t know?” she asked, just to be sure.

“Lady, I don’t give a fuck about who you are married to,” the man growled. “The only thing I care about is the location of Erwin Smith. Which I expect you to reveal for me.”

Hange wanted to shout in triumph. She loved Levi and their marriage was one of the best things that happened to her, but sometimes it was really hard being his wife. Levi was a cool strong man, who beat up bad guys on a daily basis, and Hange loved him for that! She admired his strength and his convictions and how he was willing to sacrifice even his life to help other people. But. Every fucking criminal in their city thought it would be wise to kidnap Levi Ackerman’s wife just so they could screw with him. And Hange really hated to be the damsel in distress. She knew how to defend herself, and she was fucking good at it, but, sometimes, well, sometimes, like in this particular instance, she became too absent-minded to notice two guys following her through the dark alley. She didn’t notice them until they jumped right onto her, pressing a chloroformed handkerchief to her nose. Ah, well, no big deal. Happens to everyone.

Hange gave the man a big, toothy smile. “Listen,” she began cheerfully. The man stared at her with wide eyes, obviously shocked by the sudden change in her behavior. “I would really, really, like to tell you about that, but,” if Hange’s hands weren’t bound behind her back, she would have shrugged, but now she could only bat her eyelashes at the man, feigning innocence. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that. That’s classified information.”

The man growled in frustration, and grabbing Hange by the hair, he punched her hard. Hange’s head lolled to her side, but surprisingly the blow didn’t hurt as much as she expected. Did he go easy on her?

“Tell me where Erwin Smith is!” The man demanded angrily. He held Hange’s shirt in his fists, putting her face close to his. As he began shouting at her, Hange felt the smell of his breath. Eugh, she thought, now she kinda understood why Levi was such a clean-freak. The man reeked and it was disgusting.

“I don’t know where he is!” Hange exclaimed, deciding to change the strategy. “You took the wrong person, I’m just a scientist, I’m not involved in Erwin’s secret plans!”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” the man shook her again, looking furiously at her. “I know who you are! I know everything about you!”

Hange smirked, cocking her head to the side and regarding the man with interest. “Do you?”

“You are Hange Zoe, a researcher and lead scientist in Erwin’s Smith agency called “Wings of Freedom”. You are his right-hand man and I’m sure he doesn’t need to tell you about his plans, as more than half of them are devised by you.”

Hange couldn’t lie to herself, she was impressed. She thought he was just an amateur, but this man actually knew a lot about her, in fact he knew too much.

“And yet you have no idea who my husband is,” Hange raised her head and looked at the celling. It was dump and leaking. “A grave mistake, really.” She sighed.

“I told you I don’t care--“

“But you should,” Hange cut him off. “If you value your life, of course.”

“Oh?” the man raised his eyebrow sarcastically. “Then please tell me who your husband is.”

Hange grinned at the man. “Does the man Levi Ackerman ring any bells to you?”

It was a fantastic sight. The man palled immediately, his eyes widening in shock and his gaze filling with fear.

Hange’s grin grew wider. “You know, how angry he would get? Oh, he would get so angry with you, he would be furious!” Hange snickered, watching how the man slowly swallowed. “No one likes when Levi gets angry, well, I do like it, but only because sex with angry Levi is amazing. But I don’t think you’ll enjoy what Levi would do to you. You stole his precious wife, after all, and believe me, he loves me very much.”

To Hange’s surprise, her threats had a diametrically different reaction. She probably went too far, because instead of being scared, the man, like a cornered animal, got angry. He grabbed Hange by her hair again and punched her for the second time. That hit was much stronger than the first one, splitting Hange’s lip and throwing the glasses off her face. They fell to the ground loudly, the sound of broken lenses filling the room.

“That was your second mistake,” she told him grimly, spitting out the blood in her mouth. “You broke my glasses and that was the third broken pair this month. Now you’ve made me angry too.”

"Oh, and what are you going to do?” the man gripped the knife in his hand tighter. “Need I to remind you that you are currently tied up to a pipe in my basement. You are bloodied, alone, and completely at my mercy. And besides,” the man made a show of looking around and squinting into darkness. “I can’t see your husband here, whoever he is, so you better be a good girl and just tell me the truth.”

Hange lowered her head, her hair falling to obscure her face. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because… Because then Erwin will get angry with me. And I hate when he does that. He always scolds me like some school teacher, like… like an angry math teacher!”

Hange suddenly remembered her high school math teacher, she had hated the man, and she was sure that the feeling was more than mutual. A sharp pain in her shoulder, however, reminded her that she was getting distracted.

Hange looked to her left and saw that the man’s big knife was now stuck in her shoulder. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from crying out. She was Hange fucking Zoe, she wouldn’t let some amateur asshole have the satisfaction of seeing her scream in pain.

“I’m fucking sick of you!” the man shouted. “Just tell me the information so I can finally kill you!”

Hange threw her head back and laughed. “Really shouldn’t have told me that. Why would I tell you anything now?”

The man tore his knife out of Hange’s skin. He began playing with its edge, regarding Hange with thoughtful eyes.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” the man said finally. “I’ll give you an hour, so you сould reconsider your answer. And I’ll give you a little cut,” he grinned, showing his knife. “To give you some motivation.”

Hange met his amused eyes with icy cold stare.

“You can do that,” she said in a low, dangerous voice, baring her bloodied teeth at the man. Her injured face and crazy eyes made her look almost feral and the man took a step back, terrified but unable to look away from Hange. What kind of man this Levi Ackerman was, if that scary woman was his wife? “You can also shoot me, strangle me, hit me again, whatever tortures your tiny mind comes up with, but no matter what you do, no matter how much you hurt me, I will never, ever betray Erwin’s trust.”

The man felt sweat gathering on his forehead and his hands began to shake. He gripped the handle of the knife harder. He was sure that whoever sat in front of him, it wasn’t just a woman. Looking at her, kneeling on the dirty floor of his basement, her eyes ablaze with fury, he wasn’t even sure she was a woman, that she was a human at all. She was a monster, a fucking demon, and he cursed himself for taking this job.

But there was nothing he could do. If her husband was even half as dangerous as this woman, it meant he had to finish his business quickly and then run fast and far. But before running away like a goddamn coward, though, he needed to give his boss the location of Erwin Smith.

So, holding his favorite knife securely in his grasp, he plumaged it deep into woman’s stomach. The sharp edge pierced her soft flesh like it was nothing. The woman kept looking at him with the same fierce glare, her face never changing, as though she didn’t even feel the pain.

The man staggered shakily to his feet, kicking woman’s leg with his as he stood over her.

“I’ll ask you again in an hour.” He promised before leaving her alone in the dark cold room.

Hange sat on the damp floor, surrounded by darkness. She wondered how much time has passed. To her it felt like ages went by since the man shut the door after himself, but surely it couldn’t be more than an hour? The blood was oozing from the wound on her stomach, forming a pool under her legs. Hange smirked grimly, things didn’t seem to go very smoothly for her right now.

Hange couldn’t help but wonder: where the fuck was Levi? Usually it didn’t take him a lot of time to find her, beat up all the bad guys, and then heroically save her, all the while grumbling about her stupidity.

Suddenly Hange remembered. The day before her kidnapping. She told Levi not to wait for her in the evening, saying that she had a deadline on her research project and there was a lot of work at the lab and she would probably sleep on the couch in her cabinet. But as Hange spent her day in the lab, it turned out that there weren’t many things left for her to check and re-check. Moblit volunteered to finish the rest and so Hange decided to surprise Levi and come home earlier.

Yeah, surprise him she did.

Feeling her head getting dizzy because of the blood loss, Hange wondered: could it be that Levi didn’t even notice her disappearance? A chill ran through her spine as Hange’s head filled with unwanted, panicked thoughts. She already lost a lot of blood, and even if she can survive that, the angered man would return and then surely kill her. She needed to think how to escape, because telling him about Erwin’s location was definitely out of question. Even the threat of death wouldn’t make Hange betray her friend.

Before Hange could start planning her escape, the door of the basement opened. After sitting so long in the dark, Hange was blinded by the bright light, coming from the corridor.

The man walked up to her slowly, taking pleasure in watching how pale Hange was and how labored her breaths were.

“Ah, you don’t look so good, honey,” the man smiled all too sweetly at Hange. He crouched next to her again, and his loyal knife was held tightly in his palm. “Do you want my help?”

Hange sneered at him. “Go fuck yourself.”

Suddenly, Hange heard something. The sound was quiet, almost silent, and the man probably didn’t hear it. But Hange did. And she recognized it immediately. After all, she would be a pretty bad wife, if she didn’t know her husband just by the sound of his footsteps.

The man didn’t notice anything, didn’t even seem to see the grin that spread at Hange’s lips. He raised his hand, as though to grab Hange by her chin. Levi was at him in a second, sizing his giant head in his hands and then quickly snapping his neck.

“Fucking scum.” Levi spat out. “Wanted to touch my wife with his filthy hands.”

Levi stared at the dead body for another second, before turning his attention to Hange.

“What the fuck, four-eyes?” Levi asked angrily as he went behind her back to untie her hands. “It’s the third kidnapping this month. The third. When will you get your head out of your ass and finally start noticing when people are following you?”

Hange chuckled, relief and happiness making her head spin. Or maybe it was the blood loss. Well, part of it was definitely due to the blood loss, but she was really happy to see Levi.

When Levi was done with the ropes, he took Hange’s wrists into his hands and gently rubbed the bruised skin. Still holding her hands into his, Levi came to sit in front of Hange.

His brows were furrowed in annoyance, as he was probably still angry at Hange’s carelessness, but his eyes showed how worried he was for her.

Levi’s breath hitched as he finally took notice of the extent of Hange’s injuries.

“It looks worse than it actually is,” Hange was quick to assure him. She didn’t want Levi to faint.

Slowly, with trembling hands Levi grabbed the end of Hange’s shirt and lifted it up. He cursed when he saw a wide gushing wound that ran through Hange’s stomach. His grip on her shirt tightened, and Levi turned to glare at the already dead man.

“Oi, Levi,” Hange gently touched his cheek, making him look at her. “He’s already dead and can’t do any harm to me. Besides, the wounds don't hurt that much.”

“Your hand is cold.” Levi grumbled.

“What?”

“Your hand is cold,” Levi repeated in the same gruff voice. “It’s always warm and now it’s cold, so don’t fucking tell me you are fine. If I hadn’t arrived in time, if I hadn’t called to check on you in the evening, you would have died, Hange.”

“But you arrived in time,” Hange gently smiled at her husband. “I’m still alive, because you saved me, just like you always do.”

“You saved me first.” Levi muttered under his breath and carefully approached Hange, kneeling beside her.

Hange put her hands around his neck, and then Levi put his hands under her knees, slowly lifting her up.

The moment Levi’s warmth enveloped her, Hange’s eyes closed and she drifted to sleep.

The first thing Hange noticed upon waking up was the feeling of someone’s hand tightly clutching hers. The second thing she felt was the smell of antiseptics. Judging by the soft bed and the annoying beeping of the machinery, Hange guessed she was in hospital.

She slowly opened her eyes and sat up. Her shoulder and stomach hurt a little, however the moment her eyes landed on the familiar mop of black hair, all uncomfortable feelings were replaced by immense love and adoration Hange felt for that man. With her free hand, Hange touched Levi’s head, her fingers immediately tangling in his soft locks. Levi’s head was on her lap, as he fell asleep in the hospital chair.

“Idiot,” Hange whispered fondly, looking at her husband. His whole body would be sore, when he wakes up, but Hange didn’t have the heart to disturb his peaceful slumber. It wasn’t often that Levi slept so soundly and the recent events probably tired him out.

“I tried to make him go home, but he didn’t listen.” Hange heard a familiar deep voice. She whipped her around and smiled when she saw who was sitting on the other side of her bed.

“Erwin!” Hange exclaimed, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible.

“You haven’t noticed me, until now, huh?” Erwin chuckled. “After so many years of marriage you two are still so in love with each other, it’s impressive. I tried so hard to send Levi home, but he stubbornly refused to leave your side. Even Moblit agreed to get some sleep and come back in the morning, but Levi didn’t budge.”

“Ah,” Hange gazed at her husband tenderly. “He sure is a stubborn one.”

“Don’t say it like you aren’t the same. I swear you two were made for each other.” Erwin gave her a fond look, before his eyes suddenly turned serious. “Forgive me, Hange,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I got you involved, and by trying to keep me safe you’ve got hurt.”

“Oi, stop it, Erwin,” Hange’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “I’m a big girl and I can handle myself. And you didn’t get me involved, I got involved myself, so don’t you even think of blaming yourself.” Hange looked sternly at Erwin. “I forbade it.”

Erwin laughed, his hand squeezing Hange’s shoulder with affection.

“Levi obviously doesn’t share your feelings. When he found what that guy was after, he got so angry with me, I thought I would lose another arm too.”

Hange looked away, embarrassed. “Sometimes he worries too much.”

“Because he loves you.” Erwin told her softly. “So do try to stay out of trouble, Hange. You don’t want to become a widow, because your husband had a heart attack, right?”

Hange laughed. “Yeah, that would be quite troublesome. I mean, it would take some time to find a new husband-”

“Oi!” Levi tightened his hold on Hange’s hand, as he raised his head and glared furiously at her. “What was that shit about a new husband?”

“Levi!” Hange cried out in surprise. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I was. Until you two started blubbering.”

“Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” Hange asked with a sly smile.

Levi rolled his eyes. “I was just giving you two idiots some privacy to talk about your feelings and shit.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Hange. “And you’re avoiding the question, four-eyes.”

“What? It was just a joke, Levi!” Hange threw the hand, that wasn’t held in Levi’s grasp, in the air.

“Do you already have someone you’re planning to marry after my death?”

“Of course, not!”

Levi looked at Hange closely. “Is it Moblit?”

“And yep, it’s time to take my leave,” Erwin announced, rising up from his chair. Neither Hange, nor Levi paid any attention to him, too busy glaring at each other.

When Erwin disappeared behind the door, Levi huffed.

“Fine,” he said, sighing. “You can marry Moblit after my death. But only if he takes good care about you.”

Hange turned away from him, pouting. “You’re such an idiot, Levi.”

Levi moved closer to Hange, pressing a soft kiss on her cheek. “And yet you still love me.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” And even though, Hange’s voice was still annoyed, her eyes, when they finally looked at Levi, shined with love.

Levi stared at Hange’s face and his hands involuntarily clutched into fists.

“Is it that bad?” Hange whispered.

“Not worse than usual,” Levi replied absent-mindedly, his eyes tracing the bruises on Hange’s face. “I killed that bastard too quickly. Should have let him suffer for what he did to you.”

“You’ve killed him and saved me,” Hange said softly. “That’s enough, Levi.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Levi admitted.

He put his hand on Hange’s cheek, his thumb caressing her soft skin. Hange smiled at him and leaned into his touch.

“We will be fine, Levi.” Hange promised, looking deeply into Levi’s eyes.

“As long as we are together.” Levi agreed, placing a tender kiss to Hange’s lips.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #levi and hange #levi ackerman #hange zoë #my fics #snk #snk fanfiction

188 notes · View notes

noblessejess · 4 years

Audio

(Link to Season 1 here)

[shorter version of the show theme]

TREXEL: No circumstances can you do that. Because, David—

DAVID: ♪ —Fact Corner! ♫

TREXEL: No, David, stop it!

________________________________________

DAVID: So, ♪ David's Fact Corner ♫ is never happening again.

TREXEL: [crosstalk] Is David's Fact Cancelled.

DAVID: [sadly] Oh.

________________________________________

TREXEL: Tell me you accept that.

DAVID: ♪ David's Fact Cancelled. ♫

TREXEL: Excellent stuff.

________________________________________

DAVID: ♪ David's Flat Corner. ♫

TREXEL: If you like.

________________________________________

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ What's? That? On the horizon? It's time… for sales! [David sighs] Who's? That? Man over there? It's the king of sales! And I feel that he has the power to take us on a journey, but never fails! Lalalalalala, dancing girls and dancing boys— ♫

DAVID: [crosstalk] Trexel! Trexel!

TREXEL: ♪ Dancing with their dancing toys! Because— ♫

DAVID: [crosstalk] Trexel!

TREXEL: ♪ —sales is on, and sales is high— ♫

DAVID: We don't have time for a full number!

TREXEL: ♪ —and it is time for sales-y time! And sale will win the sale-y thing, [DAVID: T-Trexel!] and the thing will swim in the lake of thing— ♫

DAVID: TREXEL!

TREXEL: ♪ And the time is happening now! ♫ [pause] SALES TIME!

________________________________________

DAVID: …all kicking has to be done with golden shins!

TREXEL: Yes, yes! And you have to pay the kicking tithe!

DAVID: Yes!

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ I want to kick, pay the kicking tithe! I want to stay alive, so I pay the big mouse god the kicking tithe! So I may live! ♫

DAVID: Yes, exactly that! Right, so kicking tithe. What else is here… uh, uh, nauseous! Every time you feel nauseous that’s—

TREXEL: ♪ Pay the nauseous tithe! I want to stay alive, [David sings along] so I pay the naughting nauseous tithe— ♫ Oh, and it all just fits into the same rhyme scheme, David!

DAVID: Right. Okay, okay, right! So they want to be a mouse concubine, so, so some kind of body transmogrification tithe!

TREXEL: ♪ Body transmogrification tithe! I transmogrify to stay alive! To become a mouse! A mouse of my god, because I've got this hot mouse bod! ♫

________________________________________

DAVID: Oh Board, what is going on? Wait. [hyperventilating a little] Has somebody found out about my permissions? Have I been locked out? Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have secretly recorded more editions of [singing badly] ♪ David’s… fact corner! ♫

________________________________________

TREXEL: That's a coquettish hat. [sings] ♪ Oh, yeah! Coquettish man in a coquettish hat. Ooh! Where'd you get that hat? [DAVID: From-from David.] Baby! [DAVID: Well, you made it.] Got it from my imagination. Made it on this space station! ♫

________________________________________

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Frost Bees and Legalese. Who will win? The Legalese will. ♫ That—

DAVID: I hope so, otherwise we're in—

TREXEL: That's a theme tune and you can keep it.

DAVID: Okay.

________________________________________

TREXEL: When you're dealing with beings from all over the universe, [DAVID: Mm-hmm.] some of them are going to eat you, David! You have to get this in your thick head! [DAVID: Oh.] [sings] ♪ Some of the clients want you dead. In the head, in the head. The clients will murder you if they can. Don't go off of the plan. If you learn these lessons three, you'll be fine and stay with me. Meeee-EEEE! Trexel who's alive. ♫ You see?

DAVID: Right.

TREXEL: They sing that to children, David, [DAVID: Okay] so I'd hope you'd understand!

________________________________________

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ It's the— ♫

TREXEL and DAVID: [sings] ♪ —butter box. ♫

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ It really cuts you off from the buttery animals you want to be. Fear us, fear us, now you flee. ♫

DAVID: Okay. Uh, right.

TREXEL: [sings, kind of] ♪ Butter box! ♫

DAVID: The butter box.

TREXEL: Trademarked by Trexel Geistman.

DAVID: Okay.

TREXEL: Hog played by David 7.

________________________________________

TREXEL: And I'm going, [bells jingle throughout] [sings] ♪ "meow meow meow, I'm a little kitty cat, and I'm doing something I shouldn't do. Is that milk mine? No, that milk's not mine, but I'm gonna lap it up all the same. Oh, I've been caught! My hackles are raised. I've tried to run away. No, I'm sliding on a floor! This floor is so slick, and I've hit a wall. Yes, I've hit it." ♫ And then I murder the puppet.

DAVID: What?

TREXEL: Because that's what they like, cat videos and murder.

DAVID: Okay.

________________________________________

DAVID: So, go on! Take it! Take it up to your "high ground" where you're "trying" ever so hard. And I'll just stay languishing down—

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Lucy— ♫

DAVID: And I'll just stay la—

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Lucy, I can see— ♫

DAVID: And I'll just stay languishin—

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ You're so beautiful to me. ♫

DAVID: Okay, it's no longer about me anymore, is it?

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Oh, Lucy! The angles we shall take,

Measurements real and fake.

Together we

Will measure the

Sweet world we have— ♫

DAVID: I thought that was it.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ In our grasping hands.

Drawn in bonds

Such binding bands.

You and me

Luuuuu-uuuu-uuuucy! ♫

DAVID: Yeah, it also does lil' spirals.

TREXEL: I love her.

DAVID: Great.

TREXEL: I love my new graph friend, David. Thank— thank you.

[sings] ♪ Lucy, through the dewdrops we do dance.

Lucy, in the meadow we'll prance.

Lucy, take me by your corners,

Don't hold back,

I'm not a hoarder.

You're the only graph friend I have. ♫

DAVID: That's not very kind to Percy.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Since I lost my greatest friend,

A childhood, a special friend,

A Percy that I'll never see again. ♫

DAVID: To anyone listening, it's not the clone.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ He is lost to me— ♫

DAVID: He cares more about the—

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ And for a long time I couldn't see— ♫

DAVID: The graph friend is more important.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ A way out of my sorrow and despair! ♫

DAVID: I don't even know the clone's name!

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ But Lucy, you have come into my life,

Buried yourself into my heart

Like a kindly, kindly knife and we shall be

Together. ♫

DAVID: He doesn't even remember who's made it.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Lucy! ♫

DAVID: David made Lucy.

IMOGEN: [beep] Musical crime detected. There is no one appropriate to inform.

________________________________________

[Trexel lays down a beat including snapping and scat singing]

DAVID: Darkness.

My feelings

they're hurt now.

I'm thinking

I don't know what!

I don't know where!

Where is my place

in this crazy mixed up station?

Is it with Trexel?

Is it with IMOGEN?

Who are the Board?

Who is Hartro?

There are her feet.

Why are her feet?

Keep your feet

to yourself.

Leave me alone!

Ah— no, I'm done. No, I can't go there.

TREXEL: [snaps fingers] I'm applauding. I'm doing jazz applause, David.

DAVID: Okay. Right, well… thank— thank you, I suppose.

________________________________________

DAVID: Plea— Trexel!

TREXEL: [sing-songy] Trexel's nipple dance.

DAVID: Put them away!

TREXEL: Okay. Okay. [puts shirt back down]

________________________________________

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Look out! It's TD-dog. TD stands for "Trexel dominates". He's on the streets. He's commanding respect. Don't look at him 'cause he will flex because Trexel's the one that's allowed to be swole. David stop exercising, it hurts your soul. You use your mind. I also use my mind but my mind has muscles on the end of my arms. ♫

________________________________________

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ I partake of a tune or two in my spare time. Da da la da la da da. Tunes arrive! I want to make a massive rhyme. Di di li di li di da. Who can say— ♫

CLYTEMNESTRA: [claps] Oh, very good!

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ —when the song will end? Not now yet [CLYTEMNESTRA: Oh!] or even later! It goes on even though it grows later— ♫

DAVID: Trexel, we have about 8 minutes of the shift left.

TREXEL: ♪ —in the day. In the day! In the day! [at the top of his lungs] In the day! ♫

CLYTEMNESTRA: Oh.

DAVID: Why is it that whenever you bring people into a room singing happens?

TREXEL: Because I have a tune in the heart and a song in the mind.

DAVID: Eugh.

________________________________________

DAVID: [starts rage singing] ♪ Sadness. Sadness. Sadness and anger. Anger and rage! [TREXEL: Okay. Okay.] Anger and rage and everything here. ♫

CLYTEMNESTRA: Oh, dear.

TREXEL: Okay. Um—

DAVID: ♪ Kill! Kill! Destroy! [becomes incomprehensible and devolves into rage noises] ♫

TREXEL: Um! Clytemnestra, um...

CLYTEMNESTRA: Um, wow. Okay. Okay, I think that's enough. Lovely. [David begins to calm down but still breaths angrily] Very beautiful performance. Thank you very much.

________________________________________

DAVID: Go sing.

TREXEL: Is it my turn?

CLYTEMNESTRA: Your turn— Yes, it's your turn, Trexel.

TREXEL: Okay. [sings] ♪ Everybody's having a nice little time. But then when they stop and have time to reflect they look at a wall and realise that they have no friends [starts getting upset] and nobody loves them! Sadness and sadness and sadness and anger! And sadness and sadness and sadness and woe! ♫

TREXEL and CLYTEMNESTRA: [harmonising] ♪ Sadness and sadness and sadness and anger! And— ♫

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Sadness and sadness! Where do I go? ♫

CLYTEMNESTRA: [sings] ♪ Where does he go? ♫

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Oh no! ♫

CLYTEMNESTRA: [sings] ♪ Oh! ♫

________________________________________

DAVID: Isn't Bathin one of our direct competitor— Why would we have an award specifically about, about Bath—

TREXEL: Customer competitive, David. Locked in a dance as old as time itself.

DAVID: So, Stellar Firma—

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ I hate you. I love you. Hold my hand and turn away. Don't look in my eyes! But don't look away from me! I feel your heart beating in your chest. ♫

DAVID: Hey Trexel.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ I grab your heart and crush the life out of it! ♫

DAVID: You're dancing with Bathin.

TREXEL: Ooh! Get off me! Get off me! [stammers] I don't— I don't— I didn't want it! I didn't like it! I didn't like it. I didn't like it.

HARTRO: But that is what—

________________________________________

DAVID: [footsteps approaching] …in Sales but—

[door swooshes open]

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ A new dawn! [David yelps] A new dawn has come to pass! ♫

DAVID: Trexel, we need to talk.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ The mistakes of old are now cast— ♫

DAVID: Trexel, we need to—

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ —aside to reveal a brand new future shining bright in the sky! Trexel! ♫

DAVID: Needs to listen to me.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Trexel— ♫

DAVID: Really needs to listen to me.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ —has arrived-dah! ♫ [DAVID: Yes.] Cheering! Cheering! Cheering!

DAVID: Uh, no. No. No cheering. Look, Tr-Trexel—

TREXEL: Cheering.

DAVID: Trexel, we need to talk!

TREXEL: Fireworks!

DAVID: We need to pro— No, Trexel.

________________________________________

TREXEL: [taunts] Weatherboy! Ah ha ha ha ha! Weatherboy! What's that Weatherboy? Testing gases? [sings] ♪ Weatherboy, Weatherboy, weather weather Weatherboy! Weatherboy, Weatherboy, weather Weatherboy. Who's that Weatherboy? It is you. What's the Weatherboy? Tell me true. Is it raining? Is it shining? Tell me, Weatherboy, am I pining for the time when the Weatherboy was here? Now the Weatherboy is here it's clear, there's a Weatherboy, Weatherboy, Weatherboy! The boy of weather is you! Ha! ♫

________________________________________

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Who's there I see across the sea? It's a Weatherboy, a Weatherboy, a Weatherboy coming to me! ♫

DAVID: It's actually Welby Weatherby.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Tell me what the weather is. Weatherboy, tell me true [DAVID: Weatherby.] for the weather, weather, weather, weather is something you do! ♫

DAVID: So that— yeah, something that Wel-Welby Weatherby does. Yes.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ He's a Weatherboy! ♫

DAVID: Ok— no. Weatherby.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ He's a Weatherboy! ♫

DAVID: Weather— Weatherby.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Play with your weather toys! ♫

DAVID: Weather-tee.

TREXEL: [sulking] Well, now you've ruined it.

DAVID: Good. Anyway—

TREXEL: You've ruined the meter.

DAVID: Okay. Does that mean we can— Okay.

TREXEL: I suppose so. I mean, [DAVID: Right.] the-the-the meters ruined now so just, just move on. I don't care.

DAVID: Okay. No, that's fine. So, I just have to ruin meters and that will just— Okay, that's—

TREXEL: No, don't learn that! Don't— I don't want you to learn that! That will ruin all my fun!

________________________________________

DAVID: [sings] ♪ Welby Weatherboy, you have come with your boys to control the weather. Here you go. Lovely love— ♫

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Look, you control the flow, the flow of the weather through all the sky. Look outside, it's time for guys! Guys from, from— ♫

DAVID: [changing the meter] ♪ Guys from thathn. Guys to time. Guys to time with thum-some-thum-thum. [continues singing gibberish] Some tha blu blah ba-be-dap-ba! Bo whap ba ba ba boo! ♫ End of the song.

TREXEL: [grumbles] I see. They call him David 7, [DAVID: Hmm?] meter ruiner.

IMOGEN: [beep] Or ear saver depending on how you look at it.

DAVID: Mm.

________________________________________

TREXEL: [singing] ♪ Weatherboy! How are you doing? Weatherboy, [crosstalk] it looks like clouds are looming! It looks like— ♫

DAVID: [crosstalk, singing a different meter from Trexel] ♪ It's Weatherboy. Weatherboy. It, it is Weather— It is Weatherboy. It is— ♫

TREXEL: [yells] I will hurt you, David!

DAVID: What? No. Mm?

________________________________________

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ But look outside, what can you see? The Weatherboy is here to decree what the Weatherby, the Weatherby, the weather will be! Oh! ♫

DAVID: [sighs] Right.

________________________________________

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Ooh! Ooh! Enjoying the rain. I'm an Executive, an Executive brain. [starts scat singing] ♫

DAVID: [talking over Trexel's singing] Okay, well I'm just gonna ma— Okay. Maybe for now we'll just table the thinking caps. Well just— I'm gonna take my thinking cap off, okay? Like, here it goes. Ooh!

TREXEL: ♪ —for you! ♫ Here you go.

________________________________________

TREXEL: [echoing, sings] ♪ King of the vents is me, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! ♫

________________________________________

TREXEL: Ha ha! [sings] ♪ I get to go somewhere you don't get to go! I get to go to the nose-mouth-butt. [ENOLA: Yeah.] Nose-mouth-butt for me, me, me. ♫

ENOLA: Have a sticky leaflet, Trexel.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Sticky leaflet, sticky leaflet for me! Take it to the mouth-butt-n— ♫ [muffled as Enola sticks the leaflet in Trexel's mouth]

ENOLA: Get in! Yes! Yes, good.

DAVID: Oh! Oh, that worked. Ah, nice one!

________________________________________

DAVID: Okay. Yes, Trexel. It turns out that you continue to do your—

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ When will The Face know me? [David sighs] When will Gonk feel the reach of my hand? When will Tracer P. Zazz Cage know that I am the great one with the great plan? Doug Whimperton. Oh, Doug Whimperton. Oh, Doug Whimperton should know my name! ♫

DAVID: I thought we didn't like Doug Whimperton.

TREXEL: [sings] ♪ Welby Weatherby shall know my fame. ♫

DAVID: Right.

TREXEL: But no.

DAVID: Yeah, but, but no!

TREXEL: All lost.

[short version of the outro theme]

#stellar firma #stellar firma sings #rusty quill #tim meredith #ben meredith #annie harris #musical episode when?#stellar firma album when?#let tim sing #accessible podcasts #long post

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1008

How many years until you’re 40? 18, so...I still have a ways to go, considering I’m only a little over 18.

What’s a hobby you would like to try out? Cross-stitching looks so fun, therapeutic, and fulfilling. I’m itching to get into it and start investing in tools.

What sort of a kiss do you count as the first kiss? Idk, lips. That feels like the most serious kind to me anyway.

What aggravates you to no end? The noise that comes out of teeth grinding. Wincing as I type this down because I’m remembering the sound; unbearable.

Does it bother you, if a fly comes in? Yeah, absolutely. The noise they make, the feeling when they land on your skin, the way they constantly fly near your face - I fucking hate flies and it doesn’t help I live in a country that’s insanely populated with them -___-

How about if it’s a bee? When it comes to bees I’m a little more terrified than bothered, honestly. They scare me enough for me to want to walk out of a room if they’re flying in there.

The music service you use, does it figure out songs searched with lyrics? I don’t know if Spotify does that. I’ve never tried it, at least. When I need to look up lyrics I usually resort to Google.

What was the last event you attended? On the last day I was allowed to be on campus, my college was holding a research conference for select journalism theses and projects and in lieu of my business reporting class that day, we were required to attend the event. In retrospect I wish I stayed there longer instead of getting bored and taking being outside for granted. I had no idea I’d never get to go back.

How about the last event you organized? My org had its anniversary last February and it was a month-long celebration with 1-2 events per week. I helped in organizing the whole thing and each individual event.

Is there such a thing as a stupid question? Of course.

What time is too early for you? This question is a little broad but when it comes to driving, I do NOT want to have to be on the road as early as 6 AM.

Have you ever won a raffle? If so, what’ve you won? Yeah but the last time was from like grade school. I think I won...shampoo or something? Maybe a gift certificate? It was 13 years ago and I don’t remember.

What’s the most useless thing you have vast knowledge on? I memorize half of Jay-Z and Kanye West’s Watch the Throne album even though I never really get to rap the songs with friends, whether at parties or bars or whatever. I’d beat anybody’s ass at like Otis or Why I Love You lmao.

What’s something you dread doing and push back for as long as possible? I don’t necessarily dread it but I always get so lazy thinking about washing dishes and I always put it off until the end of the day.

What’s something you get excited about doing and want to do it right away? Work. It’s so fun and it’s really really really what I want to be doing. I’m so glad they gave me a job offer today because it means I’ll get to continue doing what I love and now get paid more than thrice my current allowance, ha. So excited. I hope this giddiness doesn’t go away anytime soon.

Is there anything you feel you’re better at than anybody else? [continued from yesterday] I know I’m probably not better than 7 billion people, but I’ve observed that I type and research more quickly than at least most of the people I’ve had to work with.

On a sunny day, where does one most likely find you? Anywhere indoors. I hate the sun, unless I’m at the beach.

Which one do you care about more, the price tag or the label? When it comes to clothes, price tag (mostly, but I like spoiling myself from time to time with brand name clothing). When it comes to gadgets and food, label.

Have you ever played Bandu? I think I’ve heard of it but I have no clue what it’s about, or what it looks like.

Are any of your friends sore winners, when it comes to games? Nope.

How do you store your mugs/cups? We have a mug stand for the mugs and our cups are on a separate dish rack.

Does your kitchen have a dish drying cupboard? Or do you just use a towel? Both. We have a dish rack, which kinda does the same thing as the cupboard so I’m counting it; and we also have a towel.

What’s the biggest insect you’ve ever seen? Some kind of moth, probably. Eugh.

How about the biggest spider? Idk any kinds but I’ve seen some spiders with terrifyingly long legs before.

When’s the last time you played Pac-Man? Around a decade ago. I’m pretty sure Google had a Pacman feature (maybe it still does?) and I played it all the time when it was new.

#survey #surveys

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trialround · 4 years

Text

Allow me this one

Stephan Leyhe/Andreas Wellinger

Wisla 2019

Spending the season apart was never supposed to be our reality.

”If you say you miss me, I’ll hang up the phone right now. It’s been only three days,” is the way Andi greets me when he picks up the phone. He doesn’t give me a chance to reply before continuing himself. “We agreed to be sensible, cold-hearted adults who will treat this as a minor inconvenience. No mushy feelings allowed! Now we are just like any other couple who has to deal with the other half travelling all the time. This is the new reality.”

“Richi snores,” I say because that’s the first thing that comes to my mind other than the fact how much this reality sucks. The reality where I’m sitting in a hotel in Poland, while Andi is at home where he will stay the whole winter while I’m away. It would be mostly fine, had we known this would be our reality, when we started dating, but that hadn’t been the case. We both had known there was the possibility of not competing together but over the years it became a distant nightmare when we established our places in the national team.

Spending the season apart was never supposed to be our reality.

“What? Right now? It’s only past seven.” Andi sounds as tense as I feel. It’s only been a few days, but it’s been harder than I thought. Not having him here has made me realize how much we really lean on each other, on the job and off it.

“Not right now. Now he’s in the shower. Just, you know, I general. He keeps me awake at night.”

“Wear earplugs,” Andi suggests sounding completely unsympathetic. “Or pick another roommate.”

“I can’t just pick whoever I want, that’s not how it works. My roommate is not here so I’m left with whoever wants to take me. So I ended up with Richi. Who snores.” Demanding sympathy from him is useless. It’s easier to leave than to be left behind after all, and I know I shouldn’t really complain about anything. Complaining keeps things light though, and light, easy banter is allowed. Encouraged even. It takes both of our minds away from thinking how much this sucks.

“Let me get this straight: you interrupted my lazy evening because you wanted to complain about Richi’s snoring?” Andi sounds mildly annoyed. It has been a bad day for him, I can tell.

“Well, no. But I’m not allowed to talk about the reason I really called you so I had to come up with something else instead.”

We made rules before I left. We both knew talking about the situation would make us both only miserable. It is what it is, and we have to deal with that. So we banned sadness and pining for each other. There would be no tears on either end, no yearning to be together rather than apart. There would be only the easy banter, light back and forth. We know each other well enough to read between the lines, hear the true feelings behind the banter: those needs and fears that are too big to say out loud.

“Come up with something better then. I’m not interested in hearing about Richi’s sleeping habits.”

“He sleeps naked too,” I huff.

“Are you thinking about ditching me and changing for a fitter model?” There’s a familiar hint of mischief in Andi’s voice.

“What? Eugh, no!”

“Good,” Andi says. “Do not get any ideas while I’m not there to supervise.”

“Oh, yeah, because I’m the one who gets rogue when left untended,” I say drily.

“Well, who knows what you get up to while I’m not around.”

“Wild parties and casual flirting with anyone who comes close enough,” I say immediately.

“I knew it.”

“Dancing on the tables every night, crawling back to bed at five am,” I continue.

“That’s pushing it. You hate dancing.”

“You don’t know what a few vodka shots can do.”

“Oh, alcohol too. You rebel.” His voice sounds lighter already.

“I have unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

“So when you get kicked out of the team because of drinking and partying, it’s my fault?” Andi asks, laughing.

“Of course.”

“I’m hiring someone to keep you in line then. Can’t take the blame for ruining your career. Karl will help, I’m sure,” Andi ponders. He mutters something to himself, I can hear him moving around in our apartment. Imagining him padding to the bedroom, curling up alone in our bed makes something twist in my stomach.

“What about you?” I ask, distracting myself from my thoughts.

“What about me? I don’t need any supervision. I know how to behave.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, it’s offensive,” Andi huffs.

“Any coping mechanisms though?”

The other side of the line is quiet for a while, and I start to think I’ve crossed the invisible line with my question. Maybe it hits too close to home.

“Oh yeah! Chocolate,” comes Andi’s answer though, bright and happy as always, and I know the line is intact.

“Oh no,” I moan.

“Oh yes. I still have connections despite having a new sponsor.” He’s probably wiggling his brows.

“How much weight have you put up when I come home again?” I sigh.

“None. I keep up with my exercises. Even without you here providing an incentive.” He’s definitely wiggling his brows now. “You know, I also sleep naked,” Andi lowers his voice to a husky whisper. “In our bed. And without you here, I got the toys out to keep me company. You know the one we got last year for Valentine’s day – “

“Shut up, you sleep in my pyjamas curled around my pillow,” I interrupt before he gets too graphic.

“I most certainly do not!” He sounds offended.

“Bet you’re wearing my shirt right now. That yellow one that has a hole in the sleeve,” I tease. I know I’m right, when I hear him huff from the other side.

“It was the only one clean,” he says, petulant.

“I did laundry before I left,” I point out, laughing as my words are met with silence. “And I remember folding at least seven of your shirts ready for you to wear.”

“Yeah, well – “ Andi falls silent, and I can practically hear him trying to think a snarky comeback. His silence makes me laugh even more. “Shut up,” comes his order from the other side. He’s clearly annoyed at himself for not thinking anything clever to say back at me. I listen to the silence on the phone for a little while before caving in.

“I’m wearing your hoodie,” I amend softly.

“No mushiness!” he barks immediately, hearing my voice edge towards the danger zone.

“Fine. I’m taking it off then,” I continue.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns, and I smile as I hear the smile on his voice too.

“Make up your mind already.”

“I can be as indecisive as I like!”

“Pretty sure that’s my personality trait, not yours.”

“They say old married couples start to resemble each other.”

“We are neither old nor married,” I laugh at his words.

“Only because you rejected my proposal,” huffs Andi.

“If you still think ‘we should just get married so my sisters would stop nagging about it’ counts as a proper marriage proposal, we need to break up right now.”

“Admittedly not my proudest moment.”

“I’m glad you think so,” I smile to the phone.

“I’ll make it up to you one day,” he promises.

“You better. Nothing too grand though. And definitely nothing public.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.” He does know. We have talked about it before, casually, laughing about it, but deep down we both know it’s not a joke. There’s intention behind every word, a trust that a future together is what we both want.

Andi goes on about listing the things I definitely do not want my proposal to include. I’m happy to note that he seems to remember all my wishes.

As Andi is listing, the bathroom door opens and Richi steps outside zipping up his jeans. He mumbles something to me and gestures towards the phone.

“Richi is out of the shower,” I inform Andi. “And he wants me to tell you I’m a lovesick idiot for missing you after only three days,” I interpret Richi’s gestures.

“Tell him, I agree,” Andi says.

“He says he agrees,” I tell Richi who now fights the shirt over his head and grabs the phone away from me.

“You are probably even worse,” Richi hollers to the phone.”I’ll have you know Stephan has been very well behaved. Frankly I thought he’d be better off without you distracting him all the time, but turns out that might not be the case. But we’re all being very kind with him and we make sure he eats and sleeps enough and doesn’t worry too much,” Richi reports to Andi while patting my head. I try to push his hand aways but he only grins at me. “Anyway, I’m getting dinner now so I’ll be out for an hour or so, so you’re welcome to have all the phone sex you want while I’m away. Bye!”

“There will be no phone sex,” I inform Andi as soon as Richi has gone.

“Oh, don’t worry I didn’t get my hopes up. I know you’re old-fashioned and boring, and having sex via phone is the most repulsive idea ever.”

“True,” I smile.

“Even if your super hot boyfriend is laying naked in the bed, slowly stroking –“

“I’m hanging up.”

“Boring.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe you should ditch me then and find yourself a more adventurous partner.”

“Oi, no insulting my boyfriend! I’m the only one who gets to do that,” Andi interrupts immediately. Maybe it’s for the best. That’s the joke that always falls a bit flat even if I’m trying to be better about it. It’s difficult to shake the old insecurities, the feeling that maybe I am sometimes too boring for Andi.

“I’ll have you know, my boyfriend is plenty adventurous,” Andi continues, and it’s impossible to feel insecure when I hear the pride in his voice. It makes me smile. “Once we had sex in the waxing cabin.”

The smile is quickly gone from my face. “Oh god, don’t remind me.”

“Markus finding the condom we lost is still the most hilarious thing ever,” Andi laughs.

“You mean mortifying,” I correct him.

“Oh come on, it was highly amusing.”

“You have the weirdest sense of humor,” I say as my stomach churns. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I haven’t eaten yet. Richi talking about the dinner made me hungry too, that’s all.”

“Starving to death without me there taking care of you,” Andi gasps dramatically.

“Who’s mushy now?”

“We need to hang up, you need to eat,” Andi says, ignoring my words. “And you better not call me again this weekend or I’ll start to suspect you are breaking our no mushiness rule.”

“Deal.”

“Good.”

“Go have dinner then, love.”

“I will.”

“Okay. I’m going to take the toys out and go to bed. I’ll send you pictures.”

“Please don’t. Markus will find them eventually and be scarred for life.”

“All the more reason,” Andi declares happily.

“You’re horrible.”

“And yet you want to keep me around and never let go.”

“I’m starting to second-guess my decisions.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’ll hang up now,” I say, because it would be too easy to let him lure me to forget the dinner and just keep talking to him.

“Fine. Bye.”

“See ya.”

The room is too silent without his voice near my ear. I shake my head, rub my eyes, forcing the growing sadness away, and head to the restaurant to find the team. No mushiness, we promised, so I’ll spend the dinner laughing with the team, talking about jumping and the upcoming season, not thinking about Andi who should be here laughing next to me.

He does send me a picture later in the evening. It’s not with the toys though. It’s him wearing my favorite pair of pyjamas, curled up in our bed, smiling sleepily towards the camera. Attached is the text:

Fine, I lied. Allow me this one. Miss you.

#lellinger #ski jumping #sj fic #fanfiction #this is by no means the drabble length I set up for myself #it's drabble in essence though so I'll put it here anyway #allow me this one

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ohjohnno · 4 years

Text

Outrageous Fortune Reviewcap: S1E09 (”When The Blood Burns”)

I’ve been demurring on this one, partly because of real life shit (well, mostly that to be honest) but also because this episode isn’t all that good. It’s an episode entirely centering around Antony Starr’s characters, and I sure hope they paid him double, cos the range he needed for it was tremendous. But, unfortunately, one of those characters (Van) just isn’t all that interesting yet, and the other (Jethro) is ill-served by one of the dumbest and most unfortunate sideplots the show has yet had. So, without further ado, we’ll get this one out of the way, and I’ll try and keep it short.

We open with a dual appearance from the two most irritating characters in the show: Tracy and Suzy Hong, their differences now thoroughly mended and united in enjoying themselves by tormenting Van.

Yeah, it’s as insufferable as it looks. An incensed Van finally snaps and threatens to quit; Mr. Hong overhears, but Van finally manages to stand up for himself and it pays off: Mr. Hong makes him manager of one of his local little stores, which seems to sell mostly cheap novelty junk. I’m not entirely sure why he does this, honestly, but it’s a mildly important character moment for Van, so okay, I guess?

Meanwhile, in the West household, things are getting a little crazy.

Cheryl and Kacey are promoting their new underwear business with a sorta quasi-striptease party, hosted by and for middle-aged women. It’s one of the aspects of the episode I like best, not because the women are sexy but more because they really aren’t; they’re a bunch of trashy fortysomething women, reminding the world that it isn’t just model-type people who like having sex, or who know how to have fun with it. Kacey makes this explicit with a little barb at the morbidly fascinated Pascalle, telling her they didn’t offer to use her as a model because they wanted to use “real women”, which is a nice reminder that toxic standards of femininity cut cruelly in both directions. So, yeah, good segment - made all the better by the horror of the younger girls who’ve been dragged along.

Van returns, utterly nonplussed at the scene before him, and they all retreat to the bedroom. Antony Starr’s comic acting here is great, actually - he follows the others to the room and finds them using his drugs with an indignant and confused response of “well... don’t!”, and it makes me laugh every time. Draska expresses some clear interest in him, which he once again ignores, as usual. The next scene is where the plot properly begins.

The gist of it is this: the Hongs’ local store has their goods transported from warehouse to shelf by Draska’s clan, the Doslics. Van discovers that there’s a discrepancy between the number of trading cards he was meant to be shipped and the number he actually received; he goes and politely asks the Doslics about it, and they do not take that well.

I come from good people - HONEST people! Made strong by our troubles!

Naturally, they think he’s accusing them of thievery. Naturally, this makes Van pretty sure they really are committing thievery, and a raging Mr. Hong agrees. The two proceed to keep escalating tensions, and the rest of the Wests get caught in the crossfire; mama Doslic gets into a fight with Cheryl in a supermarket car park, Pascalle finds her old tyre-modelling photos all defaced with violent graffiti, and it’s all mildly funny but also kinda dull. Eventually, it turns out that Van’s mate Munter has been stealing the cards from the warehouse all along, using the keys Van gave him for safekeeping. This is not the last time Van will find himself victimized by the consequences of his own actions.

I’m blasting through *a lot* of this plot here really quickly, and that’s cos it just isn’t very interesting for the most part. It’s trying to be a farce, mostly, and it sometimes succeeds; Van’s initial confrontation with the Doslics is really quite funny, and his steadily increasing panic as the situation just goes more and more wrong isn’t bad either. But it’s all a bit too by-the-numbers and predictable, and in the end none of the stakes feel real; we all know that in an episode like this, the Hongs and the Doslics were never really gonna properly come to blows, and they don’t. Van confesses a lot of stuff to Draska in a couple of secret meetings, and while he’s initially paranoid about her loyalty, she proves herself by finding a way to fix the issue; she places all the blame for the break-ins on Eric (who was selling the stolen cards anyway, after buying them from Munter) and the two families come together to absolutely motherfucking whoop the guy’s ass, leaving him looking rather worse for wear.

...next thing I know I’m getting the shit kicked out of me by half the West Auckland United Nations!

If I have a favorite moment in this plot, it’s probably near the beginning, when the elder Doslic is first bringing in what he believes to be the full shipment of cards. He’s ranting and raving, the whole time he does it, about how much he just damn well hates the “chinks” and their terrible language skills, not to mention their driving - all while speaking in a heavy Croatian accent himself and also, oh yeah, taking their money. This show really does get quite a lot of comedy out of the idea that solidarity between marginalized groups really just doesn’t exist.

The rest of it, though? I mean, it does contain a couple of important moments, I guess. Van, after initially lying to protect Munter and only making everything worse, is genuinely willing to offer himself up, blame himself entirely, and essentially sacrifice himself in order to save everyone’s hides, and only doesn’t end up doing it because Draska fixes it all before he has to. That’s a nice reminder that Van, at his core, really is a genuinely good person, and that his internal conflict as a character all comes from the tension between that and the toxic masculinity he’s had indoctrinated deep within him by his father and the culture he’s grown up in. Cheryl demonstrates where her loyalties lie and takes Van’s side without a second’s hesitation after mama Doslic shows up with complaints; for all her problems with Van, she really does love him unconditionally. But there’s also too much stuff that doesn’t come off, like Van’s boring interactions with a mildly delinquent kid who likes the trading cards, or Tracy’s ever-one-dimensional mistreatment of Van.

Still, at least it’s better than Jethro’s plot.

Remember how Tracy knows now about Jethro’s little rape-by-deception thing a few episodes ago? Well, she still doesn’t seem to be thinking of it as rape, but she is trying to get him to apologize for it nonetheless. Jethro, meanwhile, wants to root her again, and he knows he can’t do that without apologizing. So Jethro’s plot this episode is several scenes in a row of him miserably failing to pull off a convincing apology, and... that’s it, really. Hugh’s back, being annoying as usual (though it’s intentional enough that it doesn’t bother me too much), and Loretta briefly shows up to mock him for how bad he is at apologizing (talk about the pot calling the kettle black!), but for the most part this is all really redundant and dull. The only interesting part comes in Loretta’s video shack, where Jethro straight up lies to Caroline’s face, right in front of Loretta, in order to make himself some free time to go and keep trying it with Tracy. Loretta, of course, is too sociopathic to feel sorry for her, and we all knew a couple of episodes ago that Jethro wasn’t gonna be able to maintain it with her as a regular relationship, but the beginnings of heartbreak on Caroline’s face as she begins to get an inkling, in her subconscious, of what’s going on is genuinely sad.

But the ending of this plot? It’s awful, and in a really unfortunate way. In the end, see, it turns out Tracy never really wanted an apology; she likes Jethro, doesn’t really care about the fact that he deceived her in such an intimate way, and wants it with him again. She decides he’s ready when... he just refuses to apologize one time, admitting he isn’t sorry because (and this is possibly the worst line of dialogue in the whole show, so brace yourselves): “why would I be, when it was the best fuck I’ve ever had?”

Eugh.

So they start having an affair, and that’ll stay important. Meanwhile, Van’s plot ends similarly, in the superficial respect: Draska finally convinces him to have sex with her, as a celebration for the two of them getting out of that little escapade with everything intact, and it’s also the start of a relationship. Her toxicity, of course, has been evident the whole time from her unhealthy fixation on him, but if she demonstrated anything in this episode it was her intelligence and resourcefulness, so one suspects bad things on the horizon for Van. Nothing much happens with the rest of the characters - Loretta doesn’t do much other than the aforementioned mockery of Jethro and some mildly funny jabs at Pascalle’s choice of career, and Pascalle doesn’t do much other than get all horrified by what’s been done to her poster. On the whole, then, this is a disappointing episode, and maybe the worst one so far. Van will get good, I promise - the potential is all there already. But we’ve still gotta wait for now. Until next time.

#Antonia Prebble #Siobhan Marshall #antony starr #Robyn Malcolm #grant bowler #television #outrageous fortune #Frank Whitten #rachel lang #Gutter Black #nz

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engagemachine · 5 years

Text

Everything is too loud and too dark; the bass thunders so hard she feels as though it throbs inside her like a second heart, pulsing somewhere low in her underbelly.

Taylor can’t remember why she had decided to come, only that Ashley Phillips—who had never spoken to her before this—had stopped her in the cafeteria and handed her a slip of college-ruled paper, something torn from somebody’s notebook in a hurry. An address.

“You should come,” she’d said, friendly and sweet. She had soft hair and pretty, straight teeth—one of the few lucky enough to forgo the necessity of braces. “This Friday, eight o’clock.” Taylor couldn’t think of any reason not to. She’d never been invited to a party before.

But as she wanders aimlessly through the dark, crowded home of some senior named Andrew, she quickly realizes how out of place she is, how much she stands out. Everyone is way older than her. She’s probably the only freshman here. Why did Ashley even invite her?

She combs her way through the living room. Her throat clogs with cigarette smoke and sweat and something girlish and cloying, like strawberry peach perfume, that cheap kind that comes in the plastic spray bottles. She wonders if maybe this is all some elaborate joke. Maybe they just wanted to see if she was dumb enough to even bother showing up. Maybe this is a prank and she’s too stupid to realize she’s the punchline.

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and squeezes between throngs of junior and seniors, feeling out of place and small as everyone laughs and chugs back red Solo cups. She rubs her slick hands against the thighs of her jeans, jeans that don’t fit like the other girls’ do. She’d had to punch an extra hole in her belt just to hold them up. But she’d borrowed a shirt from Meredith’s dresser, something floral with puff sleeves, little buttons up the front. Her boobs don’t fill it out like Meredith’s do, but she supposes it doesn’t matter anyway; she hasn’t taken off her windbreaker yet.

She works her way into the kitchen where there’s chips and cans of beer sprawled on sand-colored countertops, like windblown trash scattered on the beach. There’s a happy, little man in an oversized chef’s hat on the countertop next to the toaster oven, holding an empty cardboard roll of paper towels in his outstretched hands. In big fancy script on the breadbox, Let’s Eat!, and a red and white striped dish towel hanging over the handle for the oven door. The kitchen screams of a woman’s touch—Andrew’s mom—and Taylor wonders suddenly how her own mother might have decorated, if their kitchen would’ve had a theme like this one. Wonders what it would have felt like to grow up with a pantry stocked full of food, all the time, or the privilege of satisfying those sweet-sleepy after-midnight cravings, slinking into the kitchen to spoon out some ice-cream, or a late-night bowl of cereal, something with a sugary crunch.

The dining room table has been shoved against the wall to accommodate the crowd gathered around some kid doing a keg-stand, spurred by the raucous shouts of encouragement from his friends. He isn’t wearing a shirt. She thought that was only something people did in movies. She edges herself through the sliding glass doors and spills out onto the patio, where a few others have congregated as well. It’s quieter out here. Peaceful. There’s a group gathered around a small bonfire in the grass near the shed, lounging in plastic fold out chairs, like the ones you’d take camping, and others linger on the patio, smoking and drinking. There’s a couple near the edge of the patio, some guy with his tongue down Amelia Baker’s throat, his hands in the back pockets of her jeans. Taylor quickly looks away, embarrassed.

The air is chilly and cold, and she welcomes its sharp bite. The sky stretches out wide and black above her, blinking and alive with stars. She takes a moment to wonder at it, exhaling slowly, watching as her breath is carried away, into the night. She remembers in second grade in science class when she’d made her own starry night, a giant black piece of construction paper that she’d poked little tiny holes into with the tip of her pen, hundreds of them, and then holding the paper up to the ceiling, watching all the holes fill with artificial light.

“Hey, pretty girl, glad you could make it.”

Taylor spins around and looks up at Ryan Henderson, a senior she’s passed in the halls at school a couple of times. She thinks he runs track and might have a couple of classes with Nathan.

“Hi,” she says, shyly. He’s never talked to her before. She didn’t even know he knew she existed. And he just called her pretty.

“Seen you around at school. Taylor, right?”

She nods twice, bites her lower lip as she watches him approach the railing. He leans his side against it, casual and easy, and looks at her. He smells like spearmint gum and Axe body spray.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to show.” When she pushes her brows together in confusion, her lips parting in some unspoken question, he fills in the gaps. “I told Ashley to invite you. Thought you’d be more likely to come if she asked.”

Taylor swallows. Ryan wanted her to come? She flushes under his gaze, averts her eyes to the red, tripod grill in the corner of the patio, like she meant to look there.

Ryan laughs a little, and she is drawn back to him as he fishes a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of his jeans. He’s cute—tall—with wavy brown hair and pretty blue eyes. She knows a lot of girls who have crushes on him. He’s wearing a pine green sweatshirt—the three buttons at the top undone—that looks cozy and soft. She bets it smells like him.

He secures the cigarette between pink, bow-shaped lips and cups his hand around the opposite end as he lights it. It glows orange for a moment as he inhales, and then all the smoke is billowing out, swirling into the night, and there’s something strangely hypnotic about it, the rise and fall of his chest, the loose, easy way he holds the cigarette, and the glimmer in his eyes as he looks at her. He sees her eyeing his cigarette and holds it out to her after taking another drag.

“You want to try?”

“Oh, no.” Taylor shakes her head. She licks her lips, dry all the sudden. “Evelyn will kill me if I come home smelling like smoke….”

Ryan cocks his head. “Evelyn?”

“My foster mom,” she explains, regretting the words as soon as they leave her mouth. Stupid. She should have just said “my mom”, now he’ll think she’s some loser foster kid without real parents.

“Right.” Ryan exhales again, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes sweep over her, up, down, and then up again. He takes one last drag of his cigarette, and then crushes it on the railing. Taylor frowns at this, because he just lit it. He flicks it away, so that it lands somewhere in the dark sea of grass.

“You want something to drink?” he asks.

“Oh, I—”

“Come on, I’ll get you something.” He straightens and clambers down the porch steps, and Taylor hesitates only briefly before following after him.

He leads her to the group lounging around a makeshift fire pit, which is little more than a ring of misshapen rocks. One of the boys is feeding small branches into the fire to keep it going, sitting on the edge of his chair, prodding at the fire with a stick. A girl in a miniskirt and leather jacket is curled up in the lap of who Taylor assumes is her boyfriend, and her legs look smooth and tan in the glow from the fire. Taylor looks around at the rest of them, a hodgepodge of teenage boys and a few other girls. She recognizes only some of them.

Ryan introduces her to them and then tells her everyone’s names even though she won’t remember them. He explains that some of them are from Ridgepoint, in Old Town. She gives them all a little wave which makes one of the boys snort and shoot Ryan a look that Taylor doesn’t know how to interpret. She folds her arms behind her back and doesn’t know what to do.

Ryan gestures for one of the guys to move so Taylor can have his chair. She mumbles her thanks as she takes his proffered seat, and Ryan plops beside her chair onto the hard ground, surrounded by dead clumps of grass. He’s almost the same height as her even though he’s on the ground and she’s in the chair.

The fire is warm and the smoke smells good, and she tries to allow herself to relax a little and not worry her bottom lip so much, even if there’s something comforting about laving her tongue over the indents her teeth have left on her lower lip.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” Ryan says conspiratorially, leaning in, looking up into her eyes in a way that makes Taylor’s cheeks turn hot. One of the guys tosses him a white can which Ryan catches with one hand. The top pops open with a wet hiss. Taylor watches the gold lettering on the side glimmer in the firelight, like something forbidden, something dangerous.

“You ever had beer before?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “Ah, an alcohol virgin,” he says, knowingly, just a little too loudly for her comfort. Some of them chuckle, and Taylor sinks into her chair in a way she hopes isn’t obvious, blushing so hard, trying to ignore the prickle of unease slithering up her spine. She hates the way he said virgin, like her lack of foray into alcohol isn’t the only thing virgin about her.

“Here.” He hands the can to her, and Taylor holds it with as few fingers as possible, as if it’s something that suddenly might grow fangs and sink razor sharp teeth into her. “Come on, honey, take a little sip,” he says, softly, so only she can hear.

She looks at him, his eyes dark in the firelight, and brings the can to her lips, tilting her head back to swallow. She grimaces as it slides down her throat, as the taste settles in her mouth, bitterness bleeding all over her tongue.

“Eugh,” she gags. It tastes nasty. She spits out her tongue and grimaces. “I don’t like that.” She holds the can out to him, but he pushes it back into her lap.

“The first taste is always kind of gross,” he says. “I have something that might make it go down a little easier.”

She frowns at him. “What is it?” Ryan reaches into his jacket and retrieves two little white pills, nestled in the palm of his hand. She cocks her head. “What are those?”

“They make everything feel better.” He reaches for her free hand and pushes them into her palm, and she instinctively closes her fingers over them so they don’t fall on the ground.

“I—I don’t know if I should,” she says, hesitant, meeting his gaze.

“I take them all the time. They’re really good.”

The fire crackles and pops, sparks shooting up into the dark expanse of open sky as one of the boys tosses a fresh log onto the fire. There’s the dimming of the flames as the existing fire crumbles beneath the new added weight, and then the burgeoning brightness as the flames lap at the wood, licking it up faster and faster, as if excited by the taste.

“How will they make the beer taste better?” she asks.

Ryan huffs, shifting closer to her. He seems a little agitated, having to explain. “They just do. They make everything taste good and everything else just feels… light.” Taylor still looks unconvinced, so he goes on. “It’ll help you loosen up a little. Make you happy.” He looks down at the ground for a moment, and she catches him biting his tongue. He fixes her with a smile when he looks back up. “I bet you’re real cute when you smile.”

Taylor exhales, caught in the ocean of his eyes. The moment feels hypercharged and heady, like it’s just the two of them here and no one else. She wants to know what it’s like to feel light, what it might be like to breathe with four sets of lungs instead of two, how it might feel to suddenly grow wings, the foreign sensation of needing to anchor herself to the ground before she floats up and away. The fantasy of flight.

She takes both of them at once, and because she can’t dry swallow, chases them down with a large gulp of beer.

She makes a face. “It still doesn’t taste good.”

Ryan laughs. Taylor likes the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he does. “They don’t work instantly. Give it some time.”

So she does, or maybe she doesn’t at all. The night becomes an intangible thing, something distant and kind of faraway, like being in a dream, but knowing that you’re in one. Ryan was right—she does feel light, like cotton candy. She remembers laughing along with everyone about—about something, it doesn’t seem to matter now—only that everyone is smiling, and she is smiling too, and it’s nice, and the world takes on a warm, honeyed glaze. The edges of her vision are sticky sweet. It’s difficult to focus her gaze on any one thing for more than a few seconds. There’s the sagging pile of wood stacked against the side of the shed, the warm, dying frenzy of sparks from the fire, and when she tilts her head back to laugh, the starlight sky, a black, endless canopy. Ryan hands her more beer, and she drinks it. The letters on the side of the can swirl into golden spirals she can’t read. She’s lost track of how many she’s had. And she hardly notices the taste, after a while; she kind of likes the way it makes the back of her throat tingle, how hot it makes her belly feel.

After a while, some of the group starts to thin out, people leaving in pairs of two. There’s only a couple of guys left now. She feels Ryan playing with her shoelaces, where he kneels at her feet. He looks up at her intently, and Taylor’s too dizzy to really meet his gaze head on.

“How are you feeling?”

She starts to reply but is interrupted by a hiccup. She giggles. “Really good.” Is she slurring? It’s hard to tell. She frowns a little and tries again. “Really—really good.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says. He licks his lips. “I thought you might.”

She thinks he says something about going inside, that it’s cold, and she doesn’t resist when he pulls her up from her chair. His arm around her back feels good—big and warm. She nuzzles into his sweatshirt, hears the sliding glass door open. He smells like spearmint gum. At some point, there’s stairs, but she doesn’t remember walking up them. Then, something soft beneath her, a fluffy cloud, or maybe a bed.

Everything is dark and warm. The bass is still thumping from downstairs, the walls vibrating from it, but she doesn’t mind it as much as before. Ryan slides up the bed alongside of her, and she feels his hands on her as he unzips her jacket, pulling her arms out of the sleeves. They flop lifelessly back onto the bed when he lets them go—that makes her giggle again.

“I feel like—a doll,” she slurs. Something in her hindbrain tells her this should be concerning, her lack of control over her own body mechanics, but she ignores it. Ryan is so big and warm next to her. She feels like taking a nap.

Hands on her again, this time fumbling with her belt, and then unbuttoning her jeans. She tries to sit up.

“Hey, what are—what are you doing?” Hard to sit up, her brain sloshing around inside her skull, too heavy to hold up for some reason.

“Just wanna touch you a little,” Ryan says, breathy, “Lay back. It’ll feel good.”

Taylor tries to do what he says, but she gasps when he slips his hand inside her jeans, cupping her through her underwear. She squirms beneath his touch, not sure if she likes it or not.

“Sh, sh, just relax,” he says. She feels one of his fingers probing down there, and she whimpers and arches away. Only Nathan’s ever touched her there.

“St—stop,” she says. Now she can hear her own voice, all shaky and slurry. “I don’t wanna… do that.” Why is it so hard to talk?

Ryan withdraws his hand and shifts so he’s straddling her, his weight settling over her hips. The pressure of him sets off a flicker of anxiety, a spark that catches, and for a moment it’s Nathan on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with just his weight, his hands all over her, breath on her nape, shoving her face first into the mattress, suffocating, mothballs and dust in her nostrils, his scratchy jeans on the backs of her thighs, sheets soaked with drool, the embarrassed shiver of her bedsprings, her mouth open in a silent cry—but then his lips and tongue on her neck, warm and wet, and Nathan’s never done that to her. She sighs a little without really meaning to, turns her face into the bedspread to give Ryan a broader canvas. It kind of feels like being licked by a dog or something. Kind of tickles. She giggles a little and squeezes her eyes shut, where Christmas-colored phosphenes fizzle behind her lids.

“So fucking hot.”

She doesn’t say anything, just lets him suck more bruises into her neck. No one’s ever kissed her like this before. She doesn’t know if she likes it or not. She feels his teeth skirt over her pulse and she jumps, hands blindly reaching for his shirt, balling the fabric into her fists. She feels him laugh, a puff of hot breath against her jaw.

She’s seen this in movies. Boys kissing girls. Sex. The way two bodies move together, easy and fluid, like they’d both done it a million times, even if it was only the first. But nothing about this feels easy, and all her sensations feel far away, like he’s touching her underwater. Her reactions are slowed—delayed—her mind and body operating at different speeds.

Ryan shifts, lifting himself off her to kneel on either side of her thighs. He shucks her jeans down to her knees, and this time, when his hand slithers inside her underwear, something primal inside her claws to the surface, and she finds the strength to slap his arm away.

“What the hell,” he says.

“I—I don’t—want that,” she says again, trying to sit up. The room spins—there are three Ryans, and then two—and she puts a hand to her forehead as if to ease the pulsing there.

“What, you can put out for your big brother, but not for me?”

Taylor instantly recoils from him.

How does he—?

The repugnance in his voice wounds her, and she shrinks away, feebly pushing herself further up the bed. She feels so weak.

“Yeah, I know about that,” he sneers, “the whole fucking—”

Suddenly, the door bangs open, startling them both. Two people stumble in, a girl and a boy, limbs wrapped around each other, mouths occupied. The girl breaks away to giggle into the boy’s neck, and the boy steers them towards the bed.

Then, a sudden expletive of surprise at finding the room already occupied—“Oh, shit,”—and a half mumbled apology from the boy.

Ryan reaches above Taylor’s head and violently yanks a pillow out from underneath her, sending it careening towards the boy’s head.

“You fucking douchebag, do you knock?”

“Sorry, dude, didn’t realize anyone was in here....”

Taylor is already scrambling off the bed, horrified, sliding her jeans up past her thighs. Her fingers tremble over the button, and then the zipper.

“Jesus fuck,” the guys says suddenly, looking at Taylor, as if only just now seeing her for the first time. He looks at Ryan. “Dude, how old is she? Like, twelve?”

Ryan’s face flames, his nostrils flaring, but Taylor doesn’t notice. She doesn’t have time to do her belt, or to grab her jacket from where Ryan had pushed it to the floor. She stumbles out of the room, past the couple in the doorway, ignoring Ryan’s shouts. She almost falls down the stairwell, but somehow she makes it down in one piece, and then she is throwing open the front door, staggering down the wooden porch steps, the sidewalk. She breaks into a sprint, unsure of her destination, just needing to escape. Get away.

She doesn’t realize she is crying until she feels the bite of the cold wind on her wet cheeks. She hears her belt clink where it dangles around her thighs as she slows to a jog. She bends over on the sidewalk and puts her hands on her knees, panting for breath, in some residential area she doesn’t recognize, all the houses dimmed, stiff looking, the porch lights off. She wonders what time it is.

Her ears and throat burn from the cold. When she swallows, her saliva tastes coppery. She sniffles and tries to gather her bearings as she wanders along the sidewalk for a while, not sure what to do, or where to go. Her head is throbbing, and everything still feels dim and kind of faraway, like she is partway underwater or something.

It’s freezing without her jacket, and her bus pass was in the pocket—not that she could locate the nearest bus stop now. She wraps her arms around herself and keeps her head down to block out the cold, curling in on herself.

Behind her, a sudden beam of light. She turns to face the blinding flash of headlights head-on in the dark, bringing a hand up to her eyes to shield some of the light. A van pulls up alongside of her. Taylor’s heart lurches in her chest but she can’t run away. The van stalls, and she hears a door opening, and then a man walking around the front of the vehicle, looking at her.

“Jesus, kid. You’re just asking for it everywhere you go, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t recognize him at first, but after a long moment she heaves a sigh of relief at the familiar face. She knows he works for Mr. J. She’s seen him outside the hangar before.

He slides open the back door. “Get in.”

Taylor hesitates, not sure if she can trust him.

“Come on,” he says again, trying to soften some, but it’s only marginal. “He wants to see you.”

She crawls into the back of the van. When the door slides closed, she is submerged in cool darkness. The seats have been gutted, so she lies down on the floor and curls into a ball. The van rolls along. The streets are soft, empty. She stares for a long time out the two back windows, the tender, golden blur of the city at night, oranges and yellows interspersed by patches of darkness. She closes her eyes, feels the golden streetlamps curling over the back of her lids, and she pretends she is underwater, that the flickering light is the warmth of the sun breaking through the ocean’s surface.

It’s hard to keep her eyes open. She lets the vibrations of the van lull her to sleep.

She wakes to the sound of voices. At first, she doesn’t remember where she is, and she strains to listen, even as her head throbs when she tries to lift it from the floor.

“—drunk. She was wandering for a while.”

“Hm.”

“Took something, too. Think it was Ativan. She’s pretty out of it—”

The voices draw closer, and then the door swings open, and it jars her as it slides all the way back, the loud bang it makes as it hits the bumper.

She looks up at the two figures through a drowsy haze. Her eyes widen.

“Mr. J,” she slurs, “I feel—feel funny.”

She tries to crawl out of the van, and somehow ends up on her hands and knees on the cold ground. She feels bile creeping up her throat, but she chases it back down with a shuddery exhale. Her palms and knees burn from the scrape of hard concrete.

She’s too weak to stand. She tries to lift her head, but the world caves in on itself. She rolls onto her side. It’s so dark outside. She stares at Mr. J’s approaching shoes instead.

His hands slide under her back and his other beneath her legs, picking her up, suddenly, like she’s weightless. She’s too weak to wrap her arms around his neck, and they hang limp, one pressed between her side and his abdomen, the other dangling uselessly.

“Anything else?” she hears.

“No,” Mr. J says. “Nothing else.”

He carries her into the hangar. She is set down on something soft. The orange couch, she thinks. She nearly topples over, but she manages to right herself at the last second, giggling a little. Mr. J swims in front of her eyes, and she smiles at him, as if seeing him for the first time. She scoots to the edge of the couch and leans forward to sloppily throw her arms around his neck, where he’s crouched in front of her.

“Mr. J!” she slurs. “I’m so, so—hiccup—happy to see you.”

She feels him stiffen, but he does not push her away. “You’re drunk.”

“Beer is gross!” she tells him, emphatic all of the sudden. She makes a “yuck” sound, and then she digs her fingers into the collar of his jacket a little, nuzzles herself right up into the crook of his neck, and she feels it when he swallows, the way his throat bobs. “I don’t like it,” she says. She lays her head down on his shoulder and sighs, but it comes out as a hiccup instead. She frowns into his shoulder, very serious, now. Thinking. “I don’t like parties.”

Mr. J hums. She feels him rest his forearms on the edge of the couch to steady himself, on either side of her thighs. She huffs into his neck. “I’m so sleepy.” As if only just now aware of this opportunity, she leans forward suddenly and blows a raspberry into his neck, where the side of his throat is just barely exposed behind the collar of his shirt.

He grunts and shoves her away. Stands. She lands on her side on the couch and giggles, hair tousled around her like a halo, looking up at him, her eyes glossy and bright.

“Look at you,” he says after a moment, when her laughter has dissolved. “Aaalways getting yourself into trouble.” He tsks, his voice heavy, laden with disappointment. “What am I going to do with you?”

She sits up suddenly, worried. Her vision swims. “Are you mad at me?” There is the prickle of tears in her eyes. She swallows something bulbous that’s formed in her throat, a fist of panic. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Mr. J only stares at her, and she doesn’t stop him when he lays a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her to lie back down on the couch as he hovers over her. Three fingers on her jaw then, pushing it to the side, so her cheek is pressed against the cushions, her neck exposed to him. It’s all pale, thin skin. The blue whisper of a vulnerable, pulsing artery, all that stunning canvas of possibility. It awakens an old hunger in him—killing her. His original plan.

Funny, how far they’ve come since then.

“Who did that to you?”

He is tracing over the red-purple blotch on her neck, this indefinite shape. She instinctively reaches up to touch the skin too, and their fingers tangle on kiss-bruised skin. Her pulse jumps under their fingertips where they can both feel it.

“Ryan wanted to kiss me… but I didn’t want him to.”

“No?”

“I’ve never been kissed before,” she says, studying the frayed threads of the couch with the sort of manic concentration that only someone truly inebriated could possess. “I bet you kiss girls all the time!” she exclaims.

She hears him snort. “It just so happens I am very picky,” he deadpans.

“Oh,” Taylor says. She is staring up at the ceiling now, blinking. Her eyelids feel so heavy. “I’m picky too. I hate broccoli.”

“Mhm.”

“Can you sit down?” Taylor squints up at him, as if looking up at him from a telescope. “You’re making me dizzy.”

He humors her and does what she asks, mostly because she won’t remember any of this in the morning. He settles himself on the opposite end of the couch, and Taylor immediately sits up and scoots towards him. She has no qualms about making herself comfortable, laying her head down in his lap. Snuggling close. She clumsily jams an elbow into his ribs on accident but doesn’t seem to notice. She is as happy as a clam.

“I wish we could be like this all the time.”

He almost doesn’t hear her, how quietly she says it, the way the words are tethered to the back of a yawn. He takes it upon himself to touch a strand of her hair, and then several, slowly combing through it with his bare hands. It feels nice. Soft. Something about it feels stupidly indulgent.

“Mr. J?” she yawns. She takes his free arm and drapes it over her waist to use as a blanket. Her eyes are closed, the dark fan of her lashes pressed against her cheeks. “Do you love me?”

He hasn’t stopped looking at her from the moment she laid herself in his lap. Even after all this time, he is still fascinated by her unwavering trust in him, how freely she gives herself to him. The hand on her waist curls a little tighter.

“No,” he murmurs. He runs his fingers through her hair, carefully scrapes the smaller strands behind her ear, over and over again. “I don’t love you.” She yawns, a soft sound, and curls her legs closer to her chest for warmth. If his words have any effect on her, she does not let on. Her cheek is warm on his thigh. Her breathing evens out, the steady rise and fall of her chest. He curls a strand of her hair around his finger.

“I don’t love you at all.”

A/N: This was sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting, sugar-coated fluff. Every single bit of it. I’m sorry. I had to.

#Burn #JK #my writing

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godyouredull · 5 years

Text

Oh, I’m In Trouble | All You Have To Do Is Fall In Love AU

Author: Sarah - @godyouredull Pairing: Ben Hardy / OFC Rating: T Word Count: 6.2k POV: Sarah Warnings: series warnings, aggressive frat guys Summary: Sarah makes a risky decision at a frat party and is overwhelmingly pleased with the outcome.

Masterlist found here! Series Summary: Best friends and college roommates Ben, Joe, and Gwil, find themselves tangled up with a group of girls who bring out the best (and worst) in them. Series Warnings: drinking, swearing Authors’ Note: Stories can stand alone, but it’s much better when read all together! Not everything is always in the same tense, or same point of view/perspective.

How do I always get talked into going to these things? Within 15 minutes of arriving to a frat house, whose name I never remember for more than 5 seconds, I immediately regret it. Truly the best part of going out like this is getting ready with the girls so we can come up with a game plan while blaring the same obnoxious pop music. But, inevitably, every time I step out the door I immediately contemplate walking back inside. Oh well, no use wasting a cute as fuck outfit I suppose. And hey there’s free alcohol, right? Right.

“Hey!” Ella snaps me out of my thoughts, “You’re not gonna leave early tonight, are you? I hate when you do that.”

“No,” I sigh dejectedly, “I’ll stay long enough to get drunk but seriously Ella, as soon as you have a target in sight, you tell me, okay?”

“I know, I know. I won’t abandon you without warning.” She says as she links her arm in mine. “NOW, let’s get drinks.”

We walk arm in arm out to the back deck, where the ever flowing amount of alcohol seems to always be, accompanied by the obnoxious shouts and whoops of the household residents. It’s the usual scene: beer pong table, keg, random lawn chairs and a good amount of handles on the dirtiest table you’ll see in your life.

“Alright well, what’ll it be? Lukewarm beer or liquor without a mixer?’ I ask in the most enthusiastic voice I can muster.

“Complain all you want. You’re not paying for it, are you?” She’s got a point. I’m still trying to decide if it’s worth it though. “Stop complaining and tap the keg.”

“I love it when you get demanding.”

“You have no idea.” She says half laughing.

“Alright, pipe down. There’s options out here.” She begins to scout the talent while I look around for the tap. How has this keg not been tapped yet?

“Whoa. They’re kind of cute.” She points to a team of guys playing beer pong. They are cute. The one with darker hair is definitely the more outgoing of the two, getting way too excited when he makes the next shot with ease. His partner though, has blonde hair and seems to just be along for the ride, maybe even sober.

“They’re alright.” I say, trying to play it off. At the same moment, the blonde looks around the yard, clearly getting bored with the beer pong game. When his eyes land on me, though, he doesn’t look away but… neither do I.

“He’s staring at you.” I hear Ella whisper. Of course, I’m aware of this as I’m blatantly staring right back. Damn, he’s good looking. “Go talk to him.”

“No, no. He’s a frat dude, Ella. You know that’s not my thing.” I finally tear my eyes away from cute blonde boy to focus on the task at hand: keg tapping. As I line the notches of the tap with the hole of the keg, a voice stops me.

“Need some help with that?” Some part of me hopes it’s cute blonde boy, but when I look up, that hope disappears. It’s not cute blonde boy, just another generic frat guy.

“Uh, no thank you. I can handle it.” Now go away.

“You sure? No offense but these things have a tendency to explode whenever a girl tries to tap it.” Jesus. Where the hell is Ella?

I scoff and contemplate punching him. Instead, I screw the tap into place and push down, sliding it into place. Grabbing a solo cup, I pour myself a pint and stare at this douchebag straight in the eye until the cup is completely full.

“Nope, I think I got it.”

“Wow, impressive.”

“Okay, I’m walking away now.” I manage to take about two steps before I feel his grip around my elbow.

“Whoa, whoa. Hang on a second.” He spins me around so I’m facing him again. Maybe I am going to punch someone tonight. This is truly the last time I come to a frat party.

“I have to go find my friend actually. She was right next to me a second ago.” My eyes scan the room, searching desperately for Ella who I may or may not need to come rescue me from this asshole.

“What’s your name?” He asks, ignoring my previous statement.

“Could you not grip my arm when you’re talking to me?” I try to twist my arm out of his grip but he’s unfortunately much stronger than I am.

“Someone ought to teach you some manners, sweetheart.” His lips are inches from my ear and I immediately push him off.

“You’re one to talk you fucking assho— “

“HEY,” Another voice chimes in, “Pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to you, mate.” Holy shit. It’s cute blonde boy. He’s stepped in between me and the jackass, arm held out in front of me as if to create some kind of protective barrier. A couple bystanders have begun to notice the situation and watch to see if these guys start throwing fists.

“Alright, whatever, she’s all yours.” The jackass walks away with his hands up in surrender. Thank God. If there had really been a fight I’m not sure what I would’ve done.

Once he’s gone, cute blonde boy turns around to face me.

“Hey, hear that? How kind of him to hand me over like that. We were really hitting it off too.” I say sarcastically. He laughs.

“You okay?” Whoa. He’s got a deep, British accent.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thank you for that. I wish I could say that’s the first or last time that’s bound to happen.”

“It’s not something you should have to get used to.” He sounds genuine. Interesting. “I’m not sure why I keep coming to these parties. All these guys are the worst.”

“You’re not one of them?” The plot thickens. He looks slightly offended at the question.

“Do I come off as one?”

“Well, it’s hard to say.” I can’t help it; I smile. “We just met.” He smiles back.

“Right, yeah. That’s fair.” He looks down and brings his fingers up to his bottom lip and pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger. Damn he’s cute.

“And you do have that classic frat look, you know? Kinda hot, kinda douchey.” He looks up again. Shit.

“So you think I’m hot?” Damn.

“And douchey, lest we forget that part.” I say as I accusingly point at him. He doesn’t respond, just laughs. His eyes are so green. I’m staring again. Okay, take a sip of your beer, Sarah.

“Eugh. That’s a little too lukewarm for my taste.” I say as I set the cup down on a nearby table. Which is partially true but mostly I’m just trying to keep the conversation going.

“Well, we could always go somewhere else.” He suggests.

“Uh, well I think this is pretty much the extent of the drink choices.” I say, gesturing to the disgusting table with various handles. Maybe I will just switch to liquor if I’m gonna spend any more time with cute blonde boy.

“Oh, no I mean we could get out of here. Leave the party.” He says casually.

“Whoa whoa, easy. I don’t even know your name.” He’s already asking me back to his place?

“NO n—I didn’t mean... like we can find a bar or take a walk or something.” He stutters through the suggestion, his cheeks turning a bit pink. I stay silent and smile at his slight embarrassment. “I’m Ben, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ben. And I actually would love to leave this place.” Where the HELL is Ella? “Have you seen my friend though? She was standing with me earlier.”

“Earlier? Like when you were shamelessly staring at me playing beer pong?” His tongue sticks out of his mouth ever so slightly as he smiles and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. My jaw drops.

“Excuse me! I’m pretty sure it was you staring at me.”

“Sure, sure.” He mumbles.

“Plus you were barely even playing. Your friend seemed to be carrying most of the weight there.” I accuse him.

“Yeah, well I get bored at these things easily, hence my wanting to go somewhere else.”

“These parties do get old quick, I’ll give you that.” I pause, looking at him intently while wondering if I’m really gonna leave with a man I just met. He did just save me from a frat douchebag and for some reason I find myself trusting him.

“So, are you really up for ditching it?”

“I really am. Let me just find my friend first and let her know.”

We both do a quick scan of the room before finding her engrossed in a game of pong. She’s in her element. A couple of guys are watching her as she downs a beer like it’s no problem.

“Ella!” I walk towards her, Ben following behind me.

“Sarah! Be my partner! We could destroy these assholes.”

“You’re not wrong but I actually came to check on you. I think I’m gonna head out.”

“What?! You’re leaving?”

“Well,” I look behind me to make sure Ben isn’t too close. “Remember that blonde guy who was staring at me earlier? I’m leaving with him.” Her eyes widen. She steals a glance at him, standing a good length away talking to another one of his friends.

“Well, damn girl.” She looks at him again.

“Ella, stop! Don’t be obvious.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” She’s still looking in their direction. “Who’s his friend? I think he’s in my philosophy class.” I follow her gaze to see Ben talking somewhat intensely to another tall, dark haired guy who looks way too sophisticated to be at a frat house.

“I don’t know. He’s cute though.” I admit. She continues to stare at the friend, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I’ll say.”

“Alright, down girl.” We laugh. “Are you good? Will you be okay without me?”

“Yeah! Go be with surfer boy.” She clears her throat. “He’s coming. Be cool.” We both adjust our stance so we’re standing up a little straighter.

“You ready?” Ben is suddenly right behind me, hand on the small of my back.

“Yeah let’s go.” I turn back to Ella. “Hey! Call me if you need me.” She nods and makes obscene gestures as I walk out with Ben.

“Her name’s Ella?” He asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“My mate was just asking me about her. Thinks she’s cute or something.” I laugh knowingly. Looks like Ella’s in for a good time tonight too.

“Wait, before we leave…” I stop him from walking any further.

“What?”

“Wait here. I’m gonna steal a handle.”

“You’re gonna—what?” His accent is so strong. Even the way he says ‘what’ is hot.

“Wait here!” I exclaim as I walk back onto the back deck. Tonight wasn’t the night to wear a velvet crop top. Looks like I’m gonna improvise. Doing another quick scan of the options, I spot a larger handle of Fireball on a small table in the corner. That’ll work, but how will I hide it? Can’t hide it. Alright, Plan B then.

Grabbing the handle as quickly as possible, I tuck it under my arm and speed walk to where I left Ben.. Grabbing his hand with my free one, I urge him.

“C’mon let’s go!”

“Wait wha—I—okay.” He stutters but follows my motions as we briskly walk out of the house as fast as we can without looking too suspicious. Luckily, it’s a mess inside the house so if anyone notices, they don’t stop us. We make it out the front door and he’s laughing in a confused manner, our hands still linked.

“Mission accomplished.” I say, holding up the Fireball as we walk down the street.

“Fireball? You smuggled Fireball.”

“The classics never go out of style, Benjamin.” I defend my liquor of the choice.

“It’s just Ben.”

“It’s not.”

“What do you mean it’s not?” His voice raises an octave but he chuckles.

“If we’re going to be friends you’re gonna have to get used to me calling you by your full name. It’s my thing.”

“You’re really gonna call me that?” He says in mild disbelief.

“Only in certain situations.” Now I’m laughing. This whole situation is weird. I’m walking down a random street, holding hands with a guy I just met, with a handle of Fireball tucked under my arm.

“You know I still don’t know your name” He points out.

“Uh... They call me Trixie on the weekends.” I joke, not sure if I should really give him my real name.

“Wait wh— “

“Yeah it’s a tough line of work but the money’s good.” I say as deadpan as I possibly can. He stops walking.

“Are you joking?” His eyes squint a bit as he asks. I take this opportunity to drop his hand and open the Fireball, taking a swig as I start laughing.

“Yes,” He shakes his head, “But you almost believed me, didn’t you? I like that. I’m Sarah.”

“I think I’m still gonna call you Trixie.” He’s still shaking his head but he starts walking again. “Pass that over.”

“I think I’m more of a Trixie, honestly.” I say as I hand him the bottle. I want to hold his hand again but that’s weird, right? Probably not a good idea. If I’m being honest what I really want to do is jump him right here in the street but that’s definitely weird. Don’t wanna come off too strong.

“I’m gonna hold your hand again, okay?” He declares, catching me completely off guard.

“Works for me.” I exhale as he links our fingers again. Thank God it’s so dark outside because I am absolutely positive I’m blushing.

“So, Trixie,” He drags out the name. I’m already regretting that bit. “Where to now?”

“Well I think we’re set on drinks,” I say motioning to the full handle, “So, let’s just keep walking? See what we find.”

“Works for me.” He almost whispers. How is one person’s voice so deep?

“Much better than a frat party, right?”

“Well, I don’t know. One good thing came from that party.” He smirks.

We’ve been walking down this random street for a while now and I’m extremely glad I decided to take an Uber to that damn party instead of drive. I’m also glad I wore converse instead of the uncomfortable flats Michaela suggested. It’s been about an hour and Ben’s managed to cover a fairly wide range of topics. He’s not in a fraternity, though one of his roommates, Joe, is, hence his attendance at tonight’s party and quite a few others. He’s studying acting and drama in school and he moved to the U.S. because he thought it would give him a better chance at being successful in the business, but he misses home a lot and travels back as much as he can. Despite being incredibly attractive, he doesn’t seem to use it to his advantage which means my first impression was wrong. He hasn’t let go of my hand nor has he made any attempt to take things much further. Refreshing and I guess kind of infuriating because the more he talks, the further I do want to take it. Damn the brits and their tendencies to be perfect gentlemen.

“Are you hungry at all?” He asks.

“I could eat, yeah.” Oh right, forgot to mention that I haven’t eaten since before the party and I’ve now drank a significant amount of Fireball. I’m playing it off though. I think.

“I only ask because you’re stumbling a little.” Okay, maybe not.

“Right, well this sidewalk isn’t paved very well.”

“I’ve heard Fireball can do that. Put cracks and bumps into pavement and whatnot.” He says sarcastically.

“Benjamin. Was that a joke? You’re making jokes at my expense now.” I accuse as I put my hand on my chest like a 19th century Southern woman. He shrugs.

“I’m just trying to keep up with you. Which is becoming easier because you’re, you know, stumbling.”

This is good, us bantering like this. Everything feels light and a bit less real so there’s no pressure. I find myself hoping we continue this for the rest of tonight. Maybe even tomorrow morning. Damn he’s already got me breaking my rules? Not good. Or maybe good? Ugh.

“Well if you would drink your share of the Fireball, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Sarah, it’s Fireball.”

“Oh god, sorry there were no mojitos for me to swipe.” His drink of choice, as I had learned. “I’ll make a mental note for next time.”

“Next time? You plan on stealing alcohol from a frat party again?”

“I think you could talk me into almost anything, Benjamin.” He blushes at this and stutters a little bit, like he’s thinking about what exactly he wants to talk me into. Good.

“Except I didn’t talk you into this! You did that all on your own.”

“Uh huh. Good luck finding someone to believe that. From what I’ve seen, you’re quite the troublemaker.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He shakes his head while smiling. Have I mentioned how much I wanna jump him? Damn I’m tipsy.

“You mentioned food. You have something in mind? Because I don’t even know where we are.” I admit. We’re definitely still in the same neighborhood as the frat house because all we’ve passed are houses but I’m hoping, since he apparently frequents that frat house, he has an idea of what else is around us.

“I know a place. Come on, drunky.” He pulls my hand in the other direction and I briefly lose my balance, using his shoulder to steady myself. We’re inches away from each other, his green eyes directly in front of my face. “Sidewalk trip you up again? Someone should really repave this.” Before I can even respond, he turns away and starts walking again.

I exhale shakily and follow him, weak in the knees for a brand new reason.

“A taco truck?”

It was another fifteen minute walk to get to our destination: a food truck that Ben apparently frequents after he’s been out all night. It’s parked in the middle of a nearby town center that I know I’ve been to before but never found a reason to go back.

“It’s really good, I promise.”

As we walk up to the counter, he lets go of my hand and puts it on the small of my back, leading me to look at the menu. To be honest, I’m not really that hungry but I know I should eat because I don’t want to stop drinking but I also don’t want to keep making a fool of myself.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” I say looking at the menu. He’s looking at me though, rubbing my back with his thumb. I can’t honestly be expected to be focused on food when he’s touching me like this. The fucker.

“You trust me then?” He asks innocently.

“Well you did save me earlier tonight so that means you’ve earned my trust.”

“I won’t let you down.” He winks. I go to grab the Fireball that’s in his other hand but he holds it away from me, just out of reach. “Oh, no. You’re eating first.” We’re standing face to face now.

“Stop teasing me then.” I whisper.

“Can’t handle it?” He whispers back. That’s it. I lift my face, about to kiss him.

“What can I get you guys?” The truck owner comes out of nowhere. We both jump back from each other. Dammit.

“Uhm.” Good. He’s flustered too. “Four chicken tacos and two waters, please.”

“Both of those waters are for him. He’s been drinking all night. Needs to sober up.” I say to the truck owner. Ben looks at me accusingly.

“I have not been--”

“C’mon Ben you’ve been gripping that Fireball for hours. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The truck owner laughs, glancing down at the half empty handle in Ben’s hand. I can see how bad he wants to deny it but he doesn’t. Just stares at me in disbelief as I remain completely stagnant. Keep teasing, baby. Two can play.

“Four chicken tacos, coming up.” The man says, still smiling as he walks back to the kitchen.

“Cheap move. You’re not getting away with that.” Ben says once he’s gone.

“I certainly hope not.” I say, stepping a bit closer to him, looking up at him through my lashes. I link my finger through his belt loop and pull him closer to me. “Do something about it.”

“Christ.” He curses, looking away. “We’re in public.”

“Aw. Can’t handle it?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he scoffs and bites his lip. He lifts his hand and cups my face, stroking his thumb against my cheek. His eyes flit to my lips and I swear he’s about to kiss me but again, he doesn’t.

“I can handle it.” He whispers. I swallow, trying to control my breathing.

My heart is slamming against my chest and I have to clench my thighs together. His effect on me is unbelievable but I know he feels it too. We’re inches away but I can’t bring myself to react. I just stare into his bright green eyes, quickly down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. His thumb is still rubbing my cheek and I contemplate bringing it to my mouth.

“Here you are. Four chicken tacos and two waters.” I blink repeatedly and step away from Ben, shaking my head trying to clear my impure thoughts.

“Thanks, mate. Sarah, will you grab them?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry.” I stutter. Ben smirks, knowing my inability to focus is because of what just happened. He pays the truck owner, telling him to keep the change.

“C’mon, let’s go.” I expect him to hold his hand out for me to take, but his are full and so are mine. Damn. Now how am I supposed to walk straight?

“Let’s sit here.”

After continuing to walk around for a while, Ben has led us to a local park in the neighborhood we were in earlier. We’ve managed to revert back into normal conversation and bantering, not acknowledging the turn of events at the food truck. We haven’t eaten yet but I can feel myself sobering up a bit, as I have to keep forcing myself to focus on the words Ben is saying and not thinking about what he’d look like between my thighs.

“You know this area pretty well. You bring a lot of girls around?” I joke.

“Ha, yeah. Deserted parks in the middle of the night are my go-to date spot.”

“It does have a certain ambiance, I suppose. If you’re, you know… a serial killer.” He sits on the bench and laughs pretty loud. The sound gives me that same feeling in my chest from earlier and I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.

“I honestly don’t have a response to that.” He’s still chuckling. “But I’m definitely not a serial killer.”

“Good to know.” I say as I sit down next to him.

We sit in silence for a bit, both of us just eating our tacos and drinking the water. It’s not an uncomfortable silence though. It’s serene, like we’ve known each other for years and are simply enjoying being near each other for the first time in a while. He looks out at the park ahead of us and I find myself staring at him again. My eyes wander from his sharp jawline to his full, pink lips to his messy blonde hair. He’s so goddamn beautiful and I’d bet anything he doesn’t even have to try.

“You’re staring again.” He finally speaks.

“Yeah I am.” I don’t even deny it. He’s gonna have to get used to it.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, still looking away from me. Hm, to be honest or no? I could tell him exactly what I’m thinking right here and now. But no, it’s too easy.

“I’m wondering why you haven’t given me back the Fireball yet.” He laughs, again. Nope, I’ll never get tired of hearing it. He reaches down to pick up the fireball and hands the bottle to me. I unscrew the cap and take a fairly sizable swig.

“Alright take it easy, Trixie.”

“Well, you drink some!” I say as I offer the bottle back to him.

“I’m okay, babe, really.” My breath hitches at the nickname. “I do have a confession to make though.”

“Oh?” Is this it? I don’t know how I feel about fucking in the middle of a public park but hey I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“I smoke cigarettes and I’m feeling the urge to light one right now but I don’t want to if it’ll make you sick or uncomfortable. Do you mind?”

“Usually, yes but I’ll make an exception for now.” I really thought he was going to ask to fuck in a public park? Jesus. What’s wrong with me?

“Because I’m hot?”

“AND douchey. Will you let that go?”

“Never.”

He removes a carton of cigarettes from inside his jacket pocket and takes out two, putting one between his teeth and the other behind his ear. It’s hot, but not as hot as his fingers expertly flicking the lighter and then him taking a long drag, blowing out the smoke as he exhales.

We sit in silence for a bit again. Him continuing to smoke his cigarette and me taking swigs from the handle. I’m torn between wanting to hear his voice again and wanting to sit in the comfortable silence. It’s impossible to look away as he continues to take drags from his cigarette. I know how bad it is but fuck if he doesn’t look irresistible doing it. If he notices, he doesn’t mind but the more I drink, the more antsy I get.

“How long have you been smoking?” I ask, deciding I want to hear his voice again.

“Too long.”

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Yeah, it’s not as easy as they say.”

“Well, here I’ll help you.” I take the cigarette out of his hand and take a drag from it. He watches in shock. I know he’s expecting me to cough but I don’t.

“You smoke?”

“Sometimes.” I admit, taking another drag.

“Holy shit.” He says under his breath. I then throw the cigarette on the ground and step on it, effectively putting it out. “Hey! That wasn’t quite done yet.”

“I know. I said I’d help you quit, remember?” He stares at me in disbelief.

“You’re…” He starts, not able to find the words.

“I’m… what?”

“Something.” He says finally.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Benjamin.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Never.” I repeat his statement from earlier.

Hours have passed and we’re still sitting on this damn park bench, talking about anything and everything. The craziest part is that I don’t think either of us ever made a solid effort to go home or get the other back to their place. No, the subjects have been limited to favorite movies, books, our families, an explanation of our tattoos, and even a brief discussion of male celebrity crushes. He’s put his hand on my knee a few times and I’ve found excuses to occasionally put mine on his chest and shoulders but still, we keep our hands to ourselves.

“What time is it?” I ask, finally coming to the realization that it’s starting to get light outside. He takes his phone out for the first time that night, which reminds me that I haven’t checked in with Ella or Michaela. Shit.

“Whoa. It’s 6:30. I have class in two hours.”

“Oh my god.” I don’t mean to say it outloud but I can’t help it. “We’ve been out all night?”

“Disappointed?”

“No,” I smile, “definitely worth it.”

“Let’s get you back then.” He stands and offers his hand.

He’s kind enough to order an Uber back to my place, having me dropped off before he goes to class. We’re riding in silence in the back of the car, his hand on my thigh the whole way back. I really might combust but it’s probably too soon to ask him to finger me in the back of an Uber.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for this. Seriously, between saving me from that jackass and feeding me when I’m drunk I had a really, really good time.”

“Me too.” He smiles, and squeezes my thigh. Seriously, is it too soon? I could move his hand a little further north and we’d be good to go.

“Here you are!” The driver announces. Ben gets out first, walking around to my side and opening the door for me. Such a gentleman. I can definitely work with that.

“One second.” Ben tells the driver, signaling him to wait and then walking me up to my door. “So...” he starts.

“So...” I respond.

“We should do this again.”

“This exactly?”

“Well, no.” He laughs. There’s a lull.

“I’d invite you up but--”

“I’d accept.”

“Skip class.” The words are out before I can stop them.

“Wow. You’re a bad influence.”

“Sorry.” I laugh. “I thought that had been established.”

“I wish I could but I can’t today. We’re doing monologues.”

“Another time then?” I know how needy I sound but I really can’t help it.

“Of course.” He brings his hand up and cups my face again. I decide that this time I’m not taking a chance, if he’s not going to do it then I will. I fist his t-shirt in my hand and bring him to me, crashing his lips onto mine. He’s still for a second, obviously surprised, but his lips slowly begin to work against mine until they’re moving in perfect synchronization. He moves his hands down to my waist as mine work their way into his hair, lightly fisting his blonde curls. And it’s perfect. All of it. His lips are so soft and his quiet moans are fueling my every movement, desperately trying to be as close to him as I possibly can. It’s so perfect that when he pulls away I actually, verbally whine.

“God, I wanna stay.” He whispers, still inches away from me.

“But you can’t.” He brings his hands back up to cup my face and kisses me quickly one more time.

“I want to.” He insists.

“I believe you.” I laugh. “Here, give me your phone.”

He takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to me. I put my number in under ‘Trixie’ and hand it back to him.

“Trixie.” He smiles at the name.

“Text me, okay?” I say as I start to walk into the doorway.

“Wait.” He stops me by grabbing my hand and kisses me again. He tries to make it quick but I put my hand on the back of his head, holding him in place and deepening the kiss. He moans against my mouth and it might be the one sound I love more than his laugh. His hands are around my waist again for one second until he pulls away. “Oh, I’m in trouble.” He sighs, his forehead resting against mine.

“Go to class.” I say lightly pushing his chest away from me.

“See you later, babe.” He winks as he walks away and gets into the Uber.

I close the door behind me and lean against it for a second, fisting my hair in my hands and shutting my eyes closed tight.

“FUCK.” I yell to no one in particular.

“Sarah?” I recognize Ella’s voice before I see her come out of her room. “Did you just get back?

“Yep.” I admit, my hands still in my hair as I exhale obnoxiously and smile.

“Damn, that good?” She asks.

“We didn’t fuck.”

“Oh... then... What’s up with you?”

I start from the beginning, telling her the whole story and leaving absolutely no details out. Of course, as soon as I’m finished, Michaela walks out of her room. She takes in the scene; me completely flustered and Ella literally on the edge of her seat.

“Um… What’s going on?”

“You are never skipping another party.” Ella responds.

“And he’s BRITISH? Like he’s actually British?”

“Yes, Mic for the 800th time he’s really, actually British. Or he’s an expert at faking accents.”

The three of us had moved to our dining room where I proceeded to tell Michaela the entire story. Ella gets just as excited as she did the first time, sometimes even stopping me at certain parts.

“THIS is the best part oh my god, yeah.”

“UGH I love this.”

“I still CANNOT believe he really did that, wow.”

So, yeah. It’s been an eventful morning of excited storytelling and obsessing over Ben’s teasing and British-ness. At some point, Michaela asked me for his last name which I realize I never got, but that doesn’t stop Ella from pulling out her laptop and trying to find him on social media anyway. Since she’s an expert who should probably work for the FBI, it doesn’t take her long.

“FOUND HIM.” She squints at her laptop screen. “Ben Hardy.”

“Hardy? That’s fitting, I guess.” I say as I pull my chair up next to hers. Mic brings hers to the other side, so we’re all collectively stalking his facebook page.

“Oh my GOD.” Mic exclaims. “THAT’S him?!”

Ella has his profile picture pulled up and yes, it’s a very good photo of him. I get that feeling in my chest again just looking at his picture. Damn him.

“Yes,” I laugh a bit. “That’s him.”

“Sarah, you are absolutely fucking with me.”

“I am NOT fucking with you! That’s really him!”

“He’s so HOT.” She emphasizes the last word. I put my head into my hands, hysterically laughing.

“I TOLD you.” Ella chimes in as she continues scrolling through his tagged photos. “Hey, that’s his cute friend I saw… and that’s his beer pong partner.” She points to a photo of four boys sitting very close in what looks like a dorm room, Ben on the bottom right.

“Did you end up talking to him?” I ask.

“No, I never got a chance to.”

“Oh, bummer. Ben said he thought you were cute.” I share. She stares at me accusingly.

“He what?! And you’re just now telling me this?”

“Well... I...”

“Who’s his beer pong partner?” Mic ignores us, pointing to the auburn haired boy in the photo. Ella clicks on the picture so the tags show all of their names.

“Oh, Joe. That’s his roommate who’s in the fraternity.” I repeat Ben’s words.

“He’s…” Mic starts but trails off. Ella and I look at her, wide eyed, waiting for her to finish.

“Cute? You can say it, M.”

“He’s… yeah. He’s cute, fine.” She admits, crossing her arms and huffing. Ella and I smirk knowingly at each other. “Oh, fuck off.” She curses at us.

“Gwilym.” Ella says out of nowhere.

“What?”

“That’s his cute friend’s name.”

“Who also thinks you’re cute.” I tease her.

“I’ll have to decide what I’m gonna do about that.” She flips her hair and smirks. Ella’s a master at her craft and I smile, excited to watch her work on this Gwilym. As for Joe, well I’m definitely hatching a plan to get him and Mic in a room together.

At that moment, my phone buzzes, breaking me out of my mental plan making. A text from a number I don’t have saved shows.

“I know she only works on Saturdays but is there any chance Trixie is available tonight?”

It’s Ben.

“Guys.” I get my friends’ attention and show them the text.

“TRIXIE, oh my GOD. I’m going to cry.” Michaela exclaims, causing me to burst into laughter once again. I’m so giggly at everything he says. How fuckin’ lame.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Ella asks.

“I think so.” I admit, trying to think of something to respond. I save his name in my phone as ‘Benjamin’ and type out:

“I suppose she can make an exception for this very special case. It just so happens I have mojito ingredients at my place.”

Since both of my friends are looking over my shoulder as I type, Ella chimes in.

“You’re gonna bring him here?”

“Should I not?”

“Well… you’re definitely getting laid tonight.” She accuses, sticking her tongue out. I look at Mic for confirmation and she shrugs.

“Not necessarily.” I try to deny it but I definitely knew what I was doing. “Is this bad? I’m a slut.” They both laugh.

“We been knew.” Ella says.

“I won’t make it too easy.” I defend.

“You better not be referring to my mojito ingredients.” Mic chimes in. I don’t respond because I definitely was but I’ll run out and get my own. Maybe. My phone buzzes again. He responds quick, I like it.

“Well, it’s hard to say no to that. I’ll come by around 7?”

I type out a quick confirmation and send him our address, just in case he didn’t save it from this morning.

“It’s a date. See you then, gorgeous. Xx”

I read his response and smile like a goddamn idiot. My friends ask what he said so I show them. Their faces light up the same way as mine.

“Use protection.” Ella warns.

“Or, you know… don’t.” Mic suggests.

“MIC!”

Ella slaps her shoulder at the same time I burst into laughter again. Her breeding kink is bound to get one of us in trouble eventually.

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red-sterling · 5 years

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thanks for answering!! i hope you don't mind if i send more charas...how about green and/or lillie?

fhgjkfdg aw yea thank u!! hopefully this doesn’t publish before i’m done typing lol

also this definitely needs a readmore bc i got emotional abt Green oops

Green

favorite thing about them

first of all: the fact that Green canonically has a rivals to best friends arc with Red fills me with so much joy and YES they are on their alolan honeymoon you cannot convince me otherwise

okay like. gen 1 Green just perfectly encompasses what it’s like to be a ten year old in a way? like ofc he’s written like a kid bc he is a kid, but i feel like the writing on him just feels so genuine as compared to some of the other 10 yr old rivals you get in other regions. even though he’s kinda a brat at the start, he kinda eases up a bit as you go along your journey and starts giving you progressively nicer/more praise-y end lines when you beat him (going from “i picked the wrong pokémon!” to “so, you are ready for boss rocket!”) but still retains this childlike rivalry and competitiveness and i love that about him

and like. fucking beating him at the Indigo League still completely breaks my heart because even after he did become the champion at age 10 the first thing that happens is you beat him and Prof Oak just yells at him for being bad at things and like. ow.

this is why i headcanon that Red actually took awhile longer to get to Green like please. please give my boy a chance to be happy and proud

also Red was caught up with Team Rocket anyway so i imagine he must’ve fallen a little behind at some point? anyway

the development on him across regions is so choice!!! he’s so much more mellow and even kinda melancholic when you find him in gsc/hgss, like he’s calmed down over a few years and he obviously misses Red so much but like, it’s clear that Red is kinda the reason Green does settle down and he seems to have worked on his character and become a nicer person - and he still has that sassy flair to him! he’s just got that gradual slope from asshole rival to kinda aloof gym leader to friendly/sassy battle legend and aaaaa i love my boy so MUCH

also huge point: he’s so fucking driven??? he’s got the most drive and the most passion for battles/pokémon in general out of all the rivals i feel. he’s only closely matched by Silver, but Silver seems to be more aggressive than passionate, and somewhat out of necessity too (like, Giovanni abandoned him what was he to do), whereas Green just really like. he genuinely just cares so much about battles and about pokémon in general! he literally calls you in hgss and just rants about how many different kinds of pokémon there are in the world!!!

also in Alola he’s like???? just so sweet?????? he congratulates you and is like hey you’re really strong lets battle like!!!!!!!!! supportive boy!!!!! he has come so far over so many generations and i cry

also on Four Island when you play frlg he legitimately says “Be smelling ya!” when he leaves and how do you not love this idiot

least favorite thing about them

i mean. while i get that you beat Green right after he becomes the champion in the kanto games i feel like there should’ve been more pomp and circumstance for him and i’ll never forgive gamefreak for giving this boy his dream, then making you rip it away from him, and then watching his own gramps yell at him for fucking up like. again it’s that drive, i get why Red keeps such good pace w Green but i just feel like he worked so hard and he deserved so much better than that

also while i’m very biased towards him bc Big Emotions, i feel like if i knew this boy irl who was constantly i’m so great and you’re a loser i would probably punch him eventually lmao. in theory it’s kinda endearing but as a real person that’d be grating

favorite line

on one hand, “smell ya later” is so fucking iconic, but on the other -

“I’m Blue. Man, this guy called Red brought me down in a heartbeat. I haven’t seen him in a long time…I wonder where he is and what he’s up to… Come to think of it, you look a little bit like Red. Yeah, you do. Just…Just a little bit. Whatever…”

my namelessshipping heart

ALSO NOT CANON BUT GREEN RANTING TO YOU ABOUT RED AND GETTING SO DISTRACTED THAT HE FORGETS TO GIVE YOU THE POKÉDEX????? BIG GAY

brOTP

for long elaborate headcanon reasons, i see him as being a good brotp with Kris - i headcanon her as also being really driven the way Green is, but more quiet about it, she’s kinda a good balance to him and they probably do pokemon research together. i also feel like she kept him sane while Red was still missing/before they found him on a fuckin mountain

OTP

do i really need to tell you that i’m 100% namelessshipping

like they perfectly balance each other. Green has all this energy and all this spunk and Red is just like… so opposite of him y'know? he’s quiet and he’s more measured in his behavior i feel, he doesn’t really rush into things as much, and yet they both really just took Kanto by storm when they were kids, and i like how they have this foil dynamic and are both still so successful? they’re so different and they complement each other in that way, and they both find success in their own ways

like one of the reasons i hate that Green’s championship gets undersold so much is that he did beat you to the punch, and he has been one step ahead of you, and there’s so much passion there and it’s so loud - and yet you as Red are just as driven, you take down Team Rocket, you’re always right on his tail, so close but not quite there, you’re the only one who can keep up with him and you’re the only one he cares enough about to slow down for

so like. idk with even all my headcanons about namelessshipping aside (and i can infodump those another day lol), i feel like the in-game representation of them just works. they just work so well together, they balance each other without ever holding each other back, and there’s something really beautiful about that in a relationship y'know

…..i feel bad abt not putting as much infodump about isshushipping now but oh well

nOTP

i don’t really have a notp with him? i kinda like. i basically just do namelessshipping, but i don’t get a visceral eugh when i see other ships with him, just kinda a well it’s not nameless so i’ll be on my way. idek what other ships w him are popular?? i’ve been in nameless hell since 2012 so

random headcanon

while Red is still living on Mount Silver, Green is not coping well with having him so far away, and so Green massively overworks himself to the point that he keeps just not being in his gym sometimes bc he’s bouncing between the gym, training multiple teams, pokémon research, and ofc going to visit Red whenever he can. this leads him to be kinda temperamental after he’s been working on 2 hours of sleep a day for like a week until he just has an emotional meltdown and crashes, and then he gets right back into it because he has no self preservation

…….. nicer headcanon; Red can only cook two (2) foods, so Green cooks all the food for them when they move in together. he has attempted to teach Red how to cook, but Red pretends not to understand so Green will keep making him food. Green knows Red is faking it and doesn’t call him out bc he thinks it’s cute

unpopular opinion

look i’ve played through classic red version a few times and when i say he wasn’t that much of a jerk, i do genuinely mean he was not that much of a jerk. he’s like ten. ten year olds are just Like That. i guess this isn’t too unpopular anymore but it was Back In The Day and in some parts of the fandom he’s still seen as a jerk and like Bro He Is Ten In RGB/FRLG cut him some slack

also genuinely unpopular - Green is taller than Red. i know namelessshipping has fallen into the bara Red and twink Green trope but i refuse to let go of tall Green/short Red fuckin fight me why dont you

song i associate with them

a lot of the Pray For The Wicked album by Panic! at the Disco gives me Green vibes, more for the sound than for lyrics necessarily, but for some reason Roaring 20s just like. has the sound of Green to me. it’s somewhere between flamboyant pride and underlying insecurity that i think really encapsulates Green (or at least his subtext)

favorite picture of them

i genuinely love his let’s go concept art he’s such a sweet good boy??

and for the life of me i cannot find the op source on this but this is my fave pic of Green/namelessshipping in general that i’ve had saved since like 2012 maybe???

yeah if anyone can help me source that i’d appreciate it bc reverse image search only brings me to pinterest and random wattpad links :/

update: source seems to be the artist くる (pixiv id=982894) on pixiv, even though the original post got taken down (ty anon!)

Lillie

favorite thing about them

by now i guess you know im a sucker for character development, but i think they did a really good job with her!! i feel like her turn is a bit more in moments than it is with Green, who gradually evolves (lol) over the course of Kanto/all the gens overall. you see more discrete moments where Lillie starts to shift and gain confidence in herself and i am so proud of her ???? like the way she gets excited when she sees Olivia doin’ her z-move stuff, she starts buying her own clothes and getting ahead of you, etc etc

and like, she still has moments where she’s scared, there’s still some fundamental Lillie in there yknow? you don’t lose any of that softness that characterizes Lillie, she just like… she gets better, she develops without losing her Lillie vibe and i love that abt her. she overcomes a lot of the shit she had to deal with when she was stuck with Lusamine, she stands up to Lusamine eventually, and ghfdkjsg gah she’s a sweet gorl i love and appreciate her

also like. the writing on her backstory is so subtle in-universe. like yeah she literally looks like Lusamine’s daughter and you see her in the opening cutscene leaving Aether, but as the protagonist - like as Selene lets say, there’s little hints about where Lillie came from, and if you suspend your disbelief and put yourself in the pc’s shoes, there’s subtly to her character arc that i like

also like. when she changes her outfit and starts being more protagonist-y, like more confident and kinda bubbly instead of shy??? love that shit it’s so cute can i have custody of this child pls

least favorite thing about them

i like. sometimes feel like she’s too soft of a character for me to really get into? like i love her and Hau, they’re sweet good friends, but i tend to personally gravitate towards characters that create a little more tension (ie Green and N)

(though on that note, Hau can be kinda savage. he just calls Faba out and sarcastically calls Gladion “a ray of sunshine” at some point i think?? Lillie is just very tender and i will support her forever, but i think that also makes her almost too soft to keep me fixated on her yknow. it’s not even a flaw in her character but just not something i fawn over as much)

favorite line

“I’m so glad I got to meet everyone. I’m so glad I got to meet you.”

like that ending kills me but that line almost feels like. I Feel That So Much like i feel so happy to have met all these new characters and to have played these games, and i feel like some of the player’s energy and enjoyment of the game is channeled into this last line of hers

also GET IN THE BAG

brOTP

probably her and Hau?? idk, i don’t have a specific brotp for her but i like her just hangin around w the other Alola kids, so like her, Hau, Gladion, and the protag kids. they’d raise hell together and Lillie continues to be the only one with some impulse control

(Gladion also has some impulse control but keeps getting annoyed by Hau and so he gets dragged into their nonsense anyway)

OTP

Selene and Lillie is. Good. idk what the ship name is but it’s canon

nOTP

i dont even know if people ship her with Gladion but incest is a big no-no in my house

random headcanon

when she goes to Kanto, i bet she’d pick Bulbasaur as a starter if she was given the opportunity - and if not, she’d probably catch a wild Vulpix

unpopular opinion

idk if have any unpopular opinions for her??

song i associate with them

i have no reason to associate this with her but the Rainy Day theme from acgc just. has a vibe about it. i think a lot of ac music feels like it suits her

favorite picture of them

i found this art of her through a lofi remix of her theme awhile back and it’s so pleasing to look at? her hair is nice and the colors are so warm n happy gjhkfdgf

if you read this far, congratulations!!! and i’m sorry

#thank u for asking again and i'm sorry this took so long and *is* so long lol #sterling content #Anonymous

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

Text

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Eighty-Four: Pretending ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Okay...this shouldn’t be too hard. Just play it cool - not too forward, he might suspect that. But also blunt enough even Naruto can’t mistake it. Once he gets his point across, he’s sure the blond will spread the news like wildfire.

And that’s exactly what Sasuke wants.

Making his way into his first period class - one he just so happens to share with Naruto - he takes his seat and just...waits.

Soon enough, in storms the Uzumaki like a tornado, just like every other morning. “Hey!”

“Hey.”

Sitting in the desk in front of Sasuke, Naruto pauses...and then squints. “...what’s with that look?”

“Look?” Heh, perfect. Of course the blond is familiar enough with his mannerisms to notice.

“Yeah, you’re all…” His nose wrinkles. “...grinny. What’s going on?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about, Naruto.”

“No, really! You’re...smiling. It’s weirding me out, man.”

“What, I’m not allowed to be happy?”

“Well, no! But…” Naruto looks to him skeptically. “...did something happen?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno! Is your brother coming home for a visit?”

“Mm, no.”

“Uh…” A hand itches at his neck. “...didja ace a test?”

“I do that all the time.”

“...true.” Curling a first under his chin, Naruto squints. “...this is buggin’ the heck outta me! What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Then why are you smiling like that?!”

“Maybe I’m just happy. That ever cross your mind?”

“Nah, there’s gotta be a reason. There’s gotta be…” Examining his friend closely, Naruto’s lips purse, eyes nearly closed as he scrutinizes him. “...d’ya get a girlfriend or something?”

At that, the pretending starts. Expression shifting to mild shock for a moment, Sasuke then glances away. “...why would I do that?”

A knowing glint shines in Naruto’s eyes. “Ah! I saw that! You flinched!”

“W-what?”

“YOU FLINCHED!” The blond slaps a knee with a cackle. “You got a girlfriend!”

At the exclamation, several people look over...including a few girls, among them Sakura. Once they words process, she gives a jolt.

Ha...perfect…!

Doing his best to scowl and look...sheepish about it, Sasuke mutters, “Shut up idiot, you want the whole school to hear you?”

“What, and let people miss out on the juicy gossip? Dude, I thought it would never happen! You’ve had a stick up yer ass for so long, I was starting to think you were gay!”

...that earns a genuine deadpan. “No, I just...hadn’t found the right person.”

“Well c’mon, you gotta tell me! Who’s the lucky lady, eh? Tell me, tell me!” Practically bouncing, Naruto’s got stars in his eyes.

“Look...I don’t want you bothering her, okay?”

“Nah, course not! I just wanna know who finally got through that stone heart of yours,” Naruto snickers.

Giving a pensive glance, he pauses for just the right amount of time. “...her name’s Hinata…”

All at once, Naruto’s face goes slack, eyes wide and jaw hanging open comically. “...wait...you mean Hinata? Hinata Hinata?”

“What, you know more than one?”

“Well, no...but…” He seems to hesitate. “I just thought...y’know…”

“What?” Oh, this is too much fun...he never gets to see Naruto squirm like this!

“I thought she...liked…” In barely a murmur, Naruto admits. “...me…”

“...well, maybe she got tired of chasing after your dumb ass. You think she was gonna wait around forever?” Sasuke asks, leaning back in his chair as though taunting.

“...maybe. I dunno, it’s just...weird. But…” After a pause, he gives a gentle smile, which...takes the Uchiha back a bit. “...I’m glad she found someone to make her happy. Cuz...it wasn’t ever gonna be me, y’know?”

The sudden genuine moment leaves Sasuke without a reply. Out of all the reactions he’d imagined...this wasn’t one of them.

“...a-anyway!” Naruto springs back to normal, grinning sheepishly. “Maybe with you outta the running, Sakura will give me a date, huh?”

“Honestly, I hope she will.”

“...really?”

“Yeah. Maybe she’d make you happy,” he offers with a shrug. That, and it might be some sign she’d finally moved on from chasing him…

Naruto blinks, then goes a light shade of pink, itching his neck bashfully. “Heh...maybe! I-I mean, I hope so! It’d be...nice…”

Thankfully, it’s then their first period teacher decides to arrive, cutting through the chatter. So absorbed was he in the rather raw moment with Naruto, Sasuke forgot that everyone else seemed to be whispering.

Probably about Naruto’s outburst. Which is exactly what he wants: the sooner everyone thinks he’s got a girlfriend, hopefully the sooner they all start leaving him alone! And he can enjoy his senior year of high school in relative peace.

The class goes by easily enough, and soon the ‘infected’ people take their leave, each heading to new classrooms...and each bearing the news: Sasuke Uchiha has a girlfriend at last. The school’s most eligible bachelor (eugh he hates thinking that…) is officially off the market!

Of course...not everyone takes it so gracefully. A few girls go so far as to start crying, and he can’t help guilty flinches. Were they really that invested in someone they barely know…?

Come lunch, his first full act is in full swing: time to sit with her and...do whatever it is dating people do.

...what is he supposed to do?

Grabbing a tray of the same old stuff, he startles as she just...appears next to him! Smiling and perky, she asks, “So...where do you want to sit?”

Blinking as his brain plays catch-up - she really is having fun with this, isn’t she? - Sasuke then replies, “Uh...you pick.”

“Okay!” Thankfully it’s a corner table that’s typically rather unoccupied. Rather than next to him, she sits across...after a moment, he realizes it’s so they can face each other.

...good plan.

“So, anything interesting happen in any of your morning classes?” she asks, popping a tater tot into her mouth.

“Uh...not really. Though it’s probably pretty obvious the Naruto plan worked out perfectly.”

“Yeah...it is,” she admits, smiling a bit wearily as several girls behind her shoot dirty looks. That...makes him pause. He hadn’t really considered if she’d get any backlash. He was so concerned about his side of the plan - of finally getting rid of all the people chasing him - it just...didn’t occur to him they might get nasty if they felt jilted enough.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay...there’s been some, um...awkward moments, but nothing bad,” she assures him.

Something seems to weigh on his chest, and he mutters, “...anyone gives you trouble, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

Surprise makes her blink, apparently not expecting that. “...I will. But...I doubt it will come to that.”

“...better not.”

A span of silence blooms.

“...so, what about you?” he then asks.

“Hm?”

“Classes: anything cool happen?”

“Oh...well, someone managed to catch a textbook on fire in chemistry,” she giggles. “Thankfully it didn’t actually trigger the alarms, though...or everyone would have gotten hauled outside!”

He can’t help a snort. “Who the hell did that…?”

“I’m not sure, an underclassman I don’t know. He was so embarrassed, poor thing…”

And so it goes, the pair of them trading useless information about their day, then the previous weekend. Usually smalltalk feels so...forced, but this doesn’t. They just...talk. No awkward pauses or scrambling for a topic.

...he doesn’t really get that very often.

But, soon enough, lunch period is over, and it’s back to the grind of classes. “Well...see you after school, I guess,” Hinata offers.

“Got time to do anything after class?”

“Oh...I’m sorry, I’ve got volleyball practice,” is her reply, expression dropping in disappointment. “But, um...we don’t have any Friday, since we have a game Saturday!”

He mulls that over, hands in his pockets. “...would you rather I go to your game?”

That makes her startle a bit. “You’d...you’d want to go to a game?”

“Sure. Never seen one before, might be fun. Besides, gotta be there to support my girl, right?” Sasuke gives a soft grin.

To his surprise, her cheeks dust pink. “I...I would like that!” A smile then blooms wide across her face. “It starts at two!”

“Sounds good. Maybe we could, like...get dinner after, if you’re not busy?”

“Well, sometimes the team goes out, but...if we don’t, then...sure!” A hand tucks spare hair behind her ear. “...this is kinda funny, huh? It kinda...feels like the real thing. Not like we’re pretending.”

Taken aback, Sasuke glances aside, ears suddenly feeling warm. “...yeah, guess it kinda does.”

“...well, we can talk more about it a-after school - we better go or we’ll be late.”

“Yeah, later.”

Watching her go, Sasuke turns to head to his own fifth period class, feeling the warmth in his face spread. What is wrong with him? This isn’t real! It’s just...pretend! An act!

...right?

.oOo.

Welp, after far too long, here's a sequel to day 146 - more of the fake dating trope! Yay! I've wanted to do more of it for quite a while, but none of the prompts seemed to fit too well, but...well, obviously this one fits perfectly xD Uh ohhh, seems there's a wee spark of genuine feelings here...? And not just from Sasuke, seems like! Whatever will they do? :3c Anyway, I'd like to ramble more but it's VERY late, and I've got a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. So for now, I'ma sign off - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uzumaki naruto #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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