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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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Jon & Sasha Arson fic

Little fragment of an idea that never went anywhere. No reason for it. Just thought it would be funny. I was right. Rest under the cut.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

*******

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Arson was attributable to a bookshelf of Leitners, humming strange songs and spewing toxic energy into the air in rhythmic hissing motions. The Leitners were attributable to Artifact Storage, a testament to mankind’s hubris and a modern-day tower of Babel where a group of underpaid academics found themselves stress testing kevlar and fire suppression systems each day. Artifact Storage was attributable to the Magnus Institute, where Jon had managed to land a job after three months of desolate post-graduate unemployment. And the Magnus Institute was attributable to - well, probably Jonah Magnus, but Jon found that it was likely a bit of a reach to blame a long dead Regency gentleman for all of his problems.

Jon needed this job. London was expensive and so were funerals, and he couldn’t keep living on life insurance forever. It was even a good job, with decent pay and the exact kind of limp, half-hearted academia that the private sector promised disillusioned English mastery holders. His coworkers were nice - well, Tim was nice, everybody else seemed to hate him for the same reason that everybody else hated him, likely intimidated by how smart he was - and the commute was short. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. Spiritually, metaphysically, and literally.

Which was why he should stop staring at this piece of paper. The follow-up research to a statement given by some idiot unlucky enough to cross paths with what was certainly a Leitner.

‘ORIGINATION OF PHENOMENA ISOLATED’, the page read out professionally, yet chipperly, like a young woman in a new office job. ‘ITEM QUARANTINED WITHIN ARTIFACT STORAGE (46B.1)’.

Hm.

Jon pushed down on the floor, rolling himself a meter to the left.

“Say, er, Mr. Stoker.”

Tim “I’m only four years older than you, please call me Tim” Stoker, who had been thumping away on his cheap plastic keyboard either writing up a report or messaging someone on one of those infernal casual sex websites, pulled down his headphones and blinked at Jon owlishly, before splitting his face into a grin. Jon could practically hear the David Attenborough-style narration within his mind: ‘After long weeks leaving out food for the wild Simothan, the feral yet gentle animal approaches the researcher of his own volition. A win for scientists everywhere.’

“Yes, Jon?” Tim asked, in an uncanny yet hopefully unintentional RP drawl.

“What’s Artifact Storage?”

“God, I wish I was you,” Tim said feelingly. But he nodded sagely anyway, milking his ‘wise senpai’ thing for all it was worth. Jon could practically feel Tim calling himself a senpai. It was kind of embarrassing. “You know the shady room locked deep within the basement that exudes a terrible aura of malice and hatred towards you specifically?”

“The gender neutral bathroom?” Jon asked, confused.

“No, the one that always smells somewhat of blood. You hear screams sometimes?”

“The Archives!”

“Yes, but no! It’s Artifact Storage. If the researchers dig up any creepy shit from a statement, or if a statement giver brings in something that melts the metal detector, then we dump it in Artifact Storage and let those miserable fucks take care of it.”

“Is it more of a containment facility, or would you say that they conduct experiments?”

But Tim just shrugged. “My source down there tells me that they do some experiments to justify their budget, but it’s mostly unscientific. Poke this and I’ll give you twenty quid, that kind of thing. They say that if you really want a sick day, all you have to do is touch a mysterious rock and whisper your mother’s name -”

“Fantastic, thank you for your help, must go back to filling now,” Jon said quickly, skittering back to his own desk. He tried to distract himself from the terrifying thought of the basement full of supernatural nuclear bombs underneath his feet by trying to remember his mother’s name, but he was stuck on if it was Marjorie or Margaret. Mary Anne?

Maybe Tim’s personal Meerkat Manor series of Jon’s life had paid off - Sims Shack? - more than Jon would like, because Tim squinted at Jon in an unsettlingly familiar way. As if he knew exactly what Jon was thinking about the literature of mass destruction, and he really wanted Jon to be thinking literally anything else.

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you, Jon,” Tim warned, sounding a little like a horror movie trailer. “Bushy tailed college grads who go down there don’t come out the same as they went in.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Stoker.”

“For the love of christ call me Tim!”

It really was a pity - Jon had actually liked this job.

*******

It was remarkably easy to commit arson in central London.

Jon had done it once or twice. Three times, actually, although when you think about it arson was a criminal charge and only truly existed so long as someone was charged with it, so technically you could say that Jon had done arson zero times. In his defense, you try making it through Oxford without doing anything embarrassing. 90% of your time was in class or schoolwork and 10% of it was being hazed. At least Jon hadn’t fucked any pigs.

Jon hit up the usual stores, and stashed the usual implements in his rucksack. It was a careful week after his conversation with Tim, as he couldn’t afford for the older man to connect the dots. He made a show of going home at a timely five pm, startling everybody around him, and paced in a tight circle around his flat until he gave up and watched mindless telly until the clock struck midnight.

He took a cab to the park a few blocks down from the Institute, and walked the rest of the way. It was a cool, dim night in London, and the foot-traffic had slowed down to a steady trickle of young people in tight clothing. Jon pulled down his baseball cap on his head, fished a key out from his pocket given to him by a helpful and friendly janitor, and took a back entrance into the Institute.

Said helpful and friendly janitor, whose allegiance had been won because Jon was a “nice young lad” and “I always wanted to burn down the place myself, I’m happy to see the next generation give it a go” had helpfully told Jon that there were no security cameras inside the Institute. A grievous oversight, but good luck for Jon tonight. He took the stairs down to the basement, zipping his jacket up tight against the inescapable chill, and pushed his hat further down his head as he navigated his way towards Artifact Storage.

He unlocked the door with the janitor’s key, hands shaking, and slipped inside into the dusky and unlit room.

It was pitch-black, and Jon quickly fished a torch out of his backpack. He flipped it on, letting it slowly scan the room. It was the lobby into Artifact Storage, familiar from his stake-out missions: you walked in, met the bored woman behind the desk, checked in or checked out what you wanted, and if you needed to go inside she would press the button that unlocked the heavy climate-controlled door and let you into the hallway inside. The only other door in the lobby was to the office of the Director of Artifact Storage, a terrifying short and squat woman with silver hair pulled into a bun.

Jon leaned over the counter and jammed the button, holding his breath until he heard the door click open. He quickly twisted the handle, swung the heavy door out, and slipped inside, taking care to grab one of the chairs in the lobby and prop it open. Quick escapes were necessary.

He was in.

The torch lit up a map taped up to the wall, and Jon squinted at it. Section A, Section B, Section C...he remembered the classification from the document he read a week ago, and slowly walked down the hallway until he found the heavy climate controlled door marked ‘SECTION B’. He carefully wrenched it open, taking care to grab a rolling cart and using it to prop the door open, before stepping inside. He fished the canister of gasoline and the lighter out of his backpack, giving the gasoline a good shake.

It was a library. Small, and instead of shelves there were long metal racks with filing boxes stretching long into the darkness, but Jon knew a library when he saw one. Each box had a clipboard attached to it, and most boxes had very large and terrifying stickers on them painted sickly yellow or dangerous red.

The only thing in the library that wasn’t a filing rack was a battered and beat couch. And the only person in the room besides Jon was a woman, blinking up at Jon blearily from where she had been passed out on the couch.

“Er,” Jon said.

The woman sat up, squinting at Jon’s torchlight until he guiltily aimed it just to her left. She had a wild mane of curly brown hair, and was wearing a pencil skirt and ruffled burgundy blouse. A blazer was folded at one end of the couch, clearly being used as a pillow, and she looked strongly as if Jon had just woken her up from a very nice nap.

“Whuh,” the sleepy woman said.

“My mistake,” Jon said, “this isn’t the loo. Go back to bed, this is - er, a very bad dream, goodnight.”

“Whutuhiseet,” the woman slurred.

“It’s - very late, go back to bed.”

“Alright,” the woman said, falling back on the couch. After a second, her snores echoed through the room again.

Jon very slowly crept backwards. Actually, on second thought, his mission could wait for tomorrow. Bit of a cock block, this, but that was alright -

“Hey! Who are you!”

Jon, hand on the handle of the door, squeaked and turned around.

The woman was back up again, and this time she seemed actually awake. She was frowning mightily at Jon, and was already sliding off the couch in stocking feet to glare at him. Jon was aware that he did not look like an innocent person in these events. The gasoline did not help.

The woman’s eyes trailed to the gasoline, then widened. Jon ineffectually tried to hide it behind his back.

“You’re trying to burn down Artifact Storage!” the woman accused, somewhat fairly.

“Not all of Artifact Storage,” Jon said guiltily, “just the Leitners.”

The woman stared at him further, as if she was a special guest on Tim’s Sims Shack nature documentary.

“Why,” the woman said slowly, “would you want to do that?”

Despite himself, Jon found himself puffing up in indignation. “They’re evil, nasty little books that shouldn’t exist. Forget studying and - and containing them, we should be making sure no more of them ever disgrace the world again. We should be burning every one we see. They’re pure evil given literary form, they are a disgrace to books and libraries, and if I ever met Leitner myself I would beat him to death with a rusty pipe for subjecting me to his fucked up books.”

The woman stared at him.

Finally, she said, “I’m Sasha James. Want some help?”

“I - er, wouldn’t that get you in trouble, Ms. James?”

“I like this job but I hate Leitner and his fucked up books more,” Sasha said gravely.

Jon, having found a kindred spirit, held out the lighter.

Sasha James took it, a wide grin splitting her face.

*********

Jon didn’t remember much else of that night.

There was definitely arson involved - or, seeing as they hadn’t gotten caught, just some good old-fashioned fire starting. He had the sense that they had both been so giddy with adrenaline that they had immediately joined the raging uni students in the late night bars, toasting their success in toasting. There had probably been quite a bit of alcohol.

When he woke up the next morning, it was in his narrow and uncomfortable bed, face to face with an unfamiliar snoring woman. For a second, two, Jon was briefly convinced that he had done something so drastically out of character it meant that a fucked up book had body swapped him with Tim. Bodyswapping was more likely than him having casual sex.

Then Jon remembered the arson, and he exhaled in relief as his life made sense again.

“Ms. James,” Jon whispered, poking her in the arm. She snuffled and muttered something. Jon poked her harder. “Ms. James, we have work.”

Sasha turned around, turning her back to him and pulling up the blankets. “Go back to bed, Tim.”

Ti - oh god. Jon felt like he was in a CW drama. This was why he didn’t interact with people, far too much likelihood that he would accidentally end up interacting with somebody who had sex.

“Ms. James,” Jon hissed, extremely embarrassed, “you have to get up!”

“Mergh mergh fuck off,” Sasha James said.

Jon, like a true gentleman and hero, got up and made them both strong tea. He squinted at Sasha, recalling everything he knew about her (slept a lot, liked arson, hated Jurgen Leitner) before digging out some instant coffee and making some of that too. Finally, after shoving a hot cup of sludgey black liquid at the woman, she grabbed the cup and chugged it until she was able to sit up and open her eyes.

She blinked at Jon, who was already picking his hair in an attempt to get ready for work. He could clearly see the thoughts ‘you aren’t Tim’ run through her brain. Hah! He could be the narrator of the nature documentary for once!

“Uh,” Sasha James said, “I’m sorry, did we…?”

“Commit arson? Yes.” Jon paused a beat. “But as I don’t believe we were caught, call it an indoor campfire.”

Sasha James drank more of her coffee. Jon grabbed his clothing and disappeared into the loo to get changed.

When he re-entered his bedroom, she snapped her fingers at him. “Right! We got pissed after! Good times, mate!”

“I have to assume,” Jon said politely. He was doing his very best to be very polite, because Jon knew he was rude and didn’t want his new coworkers to know that until his probation period was over. Maybe he should have waited until after his probation period for the arson? Would it look bad on his annual review? “Do you need to borrow some clothing? I think we’re about the same size.” Oh, no, was that rude to say to a woman?

Sasha James squinted at him. “It’s like you’re not hungover at all. How old are you?”

“Twenty five?” Be polite, Jon! “And you’re...thirty seven?”

“I’m thirty one, asshole!”

Oh no. Women hated it when you called them old. “You don’t look a day over twenty seven!” Jon cried, panicked.

“Have you met a woman?”

“I had a grandmother?”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sasha James said.

Unfortunately, Jon knew that it would be very suspicious if they both skipped, so he forced Sasha into one of his suits that...looked much nicer on her than him, but whatever, and hustled them both to work. Now that the adrenaline had worn away and the sense of purpose in his holy mission had burned up with the cleansing flames, Jon found himself biting his nails in agony in the Underground.

They had to know. Someone must have caught them. Maybe there were secret CCTVs in the Institute. Maybe Sasha was going to rat him out - but she had helped, so wouldn’t she just be ratting out herself? Was she a double agent? Mr. Bouchard was never going to forgive him, no matter how nice he was and how much he seemed to like Jon to the point where he rather wished someone had given him the ‘Stranger Danger’ speech as a child so he would know what to do. Jon was going to go to jail, or worse - get fired.

Sasha, cooly sipping her coffee and looking somewhat fly in sunglasses and his suit, did not seem disturbed by any of this. Jon’s rapidly spiralling panic attack must have been obvious, because she casually flicked a finger on his forehead. Jon yelped with pain.

“Take it easy, mate. If they catch us, I’ll just say that the books made us do it.”

Jon scowled at her, rubbing his smarting forehead. “The books?”

“Sure.” She waved her fingers spookily as the Underground rattled forward into the heart of London. “Brainwashed us to do their evil bidding of -”

“Destroying them?”

“There’s a lot of arson Leitners,” Sasha James said sagely. “Trust me, this is just a normal day in Artifact Storage.” She clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and Jon fought a blush. “Don’t worry. We performed a public service, kiddo. St. Peter’s gonna give us a medal when we get to the pearly gates.”

“I’m an adult,” Jon said, scandalized. He had gray hair!

“Well, I guess, but I don’t know your name, so…”

Jon squinted at her. She squinted at him back.

“You’re thinking that if you don’t give me your name I can’t rat you out to the feds,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pursed his lips.

Finally, he settled on, “You don’t rat me out to the feds and I won’t tell them that you’re in an illicit relationship with Mr. Stoker.”

“Mr. - how did - what!”

“It’s Jonathan Sims,” Jon said gruffly, crossing his arms. He was slightly hungover and his nerve were jittery and he had set fire to his workplace the previous night, but somehow Jon thought that his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest for a different reason. Somehow Jon felt as if his heart couldn’t stop thumping behind his sternum because Sasha James was staring at him, head cocked, as if he was a mystery she was interested in finding out. “That’s my name.”

Sasha James stared at him, as if surprised, before her face broke into a wide and happy smile. Jon hunched his shoulders up, embarrassed, faintly aware he was blushing. “It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan!” Then she grabbed him by the collar, shaking him slightly. “And there is nothing illicit about me and Tim, and there is nothing between me and Tim at all, we are just friends, so get that out of your little head -”

The train rattled on towards the Magnus Institute, and towards the slight smell of smoke in the air.

*******

Sasha: are you coming 2 the pub w/us 2nite?

Sasha: come onnn you should comeee don’t feel awkwardddd

Sasha: I know you hate a) group settings b) drunk people c) Tim in a group d) drunk Tim and e) Tim drunk in a group but that’s no reason not to come!

Sasha: Tim is physiologically incapable of not adopting men 3-5 years younger than him it’s in his blood you can’t escape his affection

Sasha: or at least I find it funny so I’m not letting you

Sasha: Jonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Jon: Yes I’ll come, I need to talk to both of you.

Sasha: WAHOO

Sasha: wait

Sasha: really?

Sasha: did you commit ars*on again

Sasha: wait if you did don’t tell me the courts can request text transcripts

Jon: No, I just need your advice on an urgent matter.

Sasha: do you need to be drunk to do it

Jon: ...maybe.

Jon: ....Mr. Bouchard offered me the Head Archivist Job?

Jon: Which is stupid because I’ve worked here for barely four years and you’ve worked here for about ten years I think. And you’ve published five papers in parapsychological research. I know I helped you figure out that this place is a weird trauma mill but it was really mostly you. It’s completely ridiculous to promote me and I’m afraid it’s favoritism. For potentially heinous ends? This feels awful because it’s such an honor but I would never stop feeling stressed and guilty because I know so many more people (like you) are so much more qualified. Or qualified at all.

Sasha: holy shit

Sasha: ...do you remember the speech I gave you on stranger danger?

Jon: I’m afraid to mention this to Tim because he might beat up Mr. Bouchard for both my honor and yours.

Sasha: Jesus at this point I don’t even want a fucking job anymore. What bullshit. I’m never going to get promoted and I just need to accept that. This isn’t your fault, Jon, seriously, thank you for telling me.

Sasha: we can talk about this at the pub

Sasha: in private. Off the radar.

Jon: Looking forward to it :)

Jon: did I use the emoticon right?

Sasha: Yes, Jon, you did everything right.

#tma #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #sasha james-centric #this is an implied fix-it everybody lives fic #crack #comedy #absolutely nothing sad? in a MEG FIC?#sasha james #tim stoker #jon is based off me at a new job anxiously calling everyone 'mr'#rest assured sasha is trans but it just never came up #my writing

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels: SHORT SERIES PART 1

Member: stripper LEE JUYEON

Genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers because why the fuck not lmao and it fits the song anyw

A/N: at the point of writing this I WAS TIRED AND SLIGHTLY DRUNK BUT LETS GO. also, NOT part of the GEN Z series, i have racer juyeon in stall for you in gen z ;) also i told V that i was never going to write a stripper au for jy until he goes shirtless or grinds on a prop like kim kai did in artificial love... but when i saw this video, i thought of nothing BUT kim jongin. their styles are pretty similar... not to mention kai had an undercut phase too... conclusion: dana is in a mess and she’s drunk

“i know it hurts to smile but you try to.”

what is a story?

a story has a start, an arc, an ending.

is it pages of cream colored sheets stacked atop one another, word after word after word printed in ink?

is it the lyrics that your neighbour sings in the shower because he associates the beauty of the lyrics with some heartbreak he’s been through, regardless of when he experienced it?

is it the way someone walks in the room and steals everybody’s attention with the sheer amount of confidence and intimidation he was radiating?

so, what is a story?

ups-and-downs. friendship. love. heartbreak. faults.

‘it was my fault, and it always will be.’

god wouldn’t have allowed you to forget that face even if you were dead, even if you had your skull cracked open and your brain was being eaten out in bits like Hannibal Lecter savouring the flesh of his victim.

it feels like a witch’s long, untamed nails were being dragged across your skin, and she was breathing down your ear, whispering secrets of potions and words to curses like they were part of a song.

he who is inked in your heart made of stone will never be removed.

blood that runs thick in the color of love forbids a stake foretold.

bones crumble to dust like fine sand in the wind,

for you will never forget that you have sinned.

the scars on your heart slowly tears apart like a wound that never healed, and every step he makes on the space makes you wish that he was stepping on your soul instead.

not because you were sexually frustrated, but because you deserved it.

“y/n, lighten up! we’re here to have fun, not watch your mopey ass sulk!”

“yeah, you’ve been so stressed lately, don’t you think it’s time to loosen up?”

“for the record,” the music starts to thump in your stomach and the lights dim into a dark shade of red. “i didn’t want to come to a strip club.”

blood has covered the light, for his soul cries over your misdoings.

“ugh, you’re such a party pooper,” she huffs, visibly frustrated when her forehead creases into lines under her makeup.

the memory of you aggressively avoiding being dragged to a strip club rings in your ears like a fire alarm. sometimes, you would’ve loved nothing more besides throw a chair when she acts like that; making it seem like you wanted to do something when you’ve clearly stated you didn’t.

unfortunately, you were used to her shitty little habit.

coercion sprints itself across your arm when she suddenly grabs it, violently shaking you when the music starts.

dread washes over you like wildfire when he starts to move, and he suddenly becomes one with the music.

the whiteness of his skin grabs you by the neck and sticks an ice-cold popsicle down your throat. you could still taste the sourness of the lemon flavoured one he would always give you, even though he liked it too.

the shiny, glittery, loose clothes hanging around his physical existence freezes your muscles the way medusa could turn people into stone. the hairs on your arms stand when you remember how small you looked in his clothes.

and his eyes. they hold a dagger at your heart, tip already sinking into the skin on your chest.

black, sticky, dense tears flood out every hole of your soul’s mouth.

it takes a massive amount of effort to keep every dollop of excruciatingly painful memories to yourself, for you would’ve thrown up your dinner if you didn’t invest that kind of effort.

in your head, you were a demon coated in tears and smudged ink.

stuck in time like a statue, your eyes were hollow and your voice was no longer.

red, the color of blood mixed with poison was spewing out every hole from your face, your knees hitting the ground where the a bed of thorns were laid out carelessly.

the same way you laid out the bed of roses for him, only to become his thorns.

the start of the story began when you first locked eyes with him first in the neighbourhood library near your school.

you never really liked studying in school, not when there were always noisy kids tossing a ball around or someone loudly crunching on chips next to you.

it doesn’t take long for you to notice that he’s been watching you, resulting in you warily turning around to look behind you to see if he was looking at someone else.

a soft chime in the hall pulls your attention to the old clock hanging above the entrance of the library, and an announcement rings through the PA system.

“dear visitors, the time now is 11pm. kindly exit the library and dispose of any litter you may have with you. we hope you’ve enjoyed your time here and we hope to see you soon.”

it was exactly because it was so late, that there was nobody left in the library.

carefully, you return your attention back to him, music still playing softly in your earpieces.

his eyes were glued to his books as he clears them off the table, and you remain seated, taking your time to pack your things as well.

you were hoping he doesn’t come over, so naturally, you panic when he does.

feigning the mindless scrolling on your phone doesn’t do much when he presses his palm flat on to the surface of the table, robbing you of an option to ignore him.

well, you could, but you recognise him.

how could anybody not recognise him?

his eyes meet yours and intimidation fills you like you were drowning, but he suddenly squats with the support of his hand gripping onto the edge of the table, eyes darting away.

a frown finds itself on your face and you watch cautiously when he stands up again, placing a pen and a candy wrapper on the table before you.

“planning on hiding in the bathroom and staying overnight?”

“i... uh-- no...”

“okay,” releasing the edge of the table, he grips the two straps over his shoulders by the sides of his chest and nods towards the exit. “time to go then.”

lee juyeon had always been a rather mysterious character in school. he was two years your senior but it wasn’t surprising to know that he was friends with three of your classmates, one of them being your closest friends.

when he wasn’t smiling, he looked like he could kill someone; drive a knife through their faces and not feel a pinch of guilt.

but when he does, it’s like setting off a billion firecrackers at once.

and by firecrackers, you mean the girls in school swooning over him.

if you had to choose a word to describe the way you looked at him, it had to be ‘indifferent’. you couldn’t deny that he was a great painting to look at and pretend ‘ugliness’ wasn’t a thing, but you’ve never really bothered to invest your emotions on anybody you deemed too far to reach.

so when he offers to walk you back to your place because of how late it was, it surprises you.

“why do you study in the community library and not the school library? i thought i’d see you with sunwoo or eric or hyunjun in school.”

“uh... i stay for awhile just to watch them mess around until they lose their stamina... the school library is filled with idiots who eat and make a fool of themselves which make it not-conducive... so i thought the community library is a better idea. besides, the school library closes at 7pm.”

“ah,” he laughs, and you could hear the swooning in the back of your head. “why am i not surprised?”

silence.

the awkward atmosphere was killing you, and it was difficult to swallow the fact that you could not think of anything to say.

luckily, you stay just about a ten minute walk from the library, so juyeon walks right past your residence without noticing you’ve stopped.

“uh-- juyeon...”

“huh? oh,” he halts in his tracks and turns around, sheepishly taking large steps back to you.

“thank you for walking me back.”

“it’s alright.”

silence, again.

“...goodnight.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

you purse your lips and offer him a polite smile, slightly surprised that he knows your name.

then again, he knows three of your classmates, and you were good friends with hyunjun.

he doesn’t leave until the lift takes you away from the lobby, the view of him waving to you with his unwaxed, tousled hair makes you smile to yourself once out of sight.

the arc of the story comes when you start to find candy under your desk a few weeks later.

you had stopped visiting the library because you were cooped up at home working on projects you needing your laptop for.

the sugar left on your desk seemed to be some kind of coaxing to get you to go back to the library.

the candy on the desk was the same one that you ate at the library, the one with the wrapper that juyeon picked up--

“hyunjun,” you call out to the boy who was passed out on the table, walking towards him.

“go away, i want to sleep--”

“you’ll sleep in class anyway,” grabbing his shoulders, it takes you some effort to peel him off the desk and make him sit upright. “you know who left this and i want to know who.”

hyunjun looks at you with bloodshot eyes, brows furrowing as he messes up his own hair.

“you sound like you already know who, so why do i need to bother telling you?”

the plastic of the candy wrapper crinkles in your hold as hyunjun’s head meets the table again.

again, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that juyeon might have a crush on you, and neither does it take long for you to reciprocate.

being with juyeon was like sitting on a car and going on a long road trip.

not many bumps, not many surprises, frankly, you were more than happy he was such an easy man to be with.

when juyeon graduates, he gets admitted into a performing arts academy in another city, leaving you in school where you still had to wear school uniform and wake up even before the sun rose.

but he makes an effort to come back to visit you, knowing that he was the older one with more freedom.

this long road trip, however, turns into a rollercoaster without warning, without your realisation.

the institute you enroll yourself into after graduation was located further away from the academy than your old school, but juyeon promises that he’d be with you whenever you could, and you promised the same.

distance becomes the first problem, when you realise how taxing it is to spend two hours travelling across the country to see him, and spend more time sitting on a bus or a train than actually being with him.

it starts to wear you away at the edges, fire burning the corners of ivory sheets with mandarin colored flames and leaving ashes the shade of coal on the floor.

then when juyeon was in his final year and you were halfway through your four year course, it was almost like he vanishes off the face of earth.

it worried you at first, that it felt like he was treating this four year relationship like he mattress he could fall back on anytime he wanted to.

you didn’t blame him, but it stings in the wounds that draw on your heart after a considerable amount of time.

was this what a long-distance-relationship encapsulated? how do couples who don’t even stay in the same country get through it?

you miss his scent, his arms around you, the way he smiles at you whenever you say something stupid or when he doesn’t get a joke and you had to explain it to him.

it feels like he has forgotten you, and it rips you apart that you knew why, that you understand he has his own responsibilities as a student in a prestigious performing arts academy.

but you can’t help but to think: if i could find time that i wanted to provide him, then why couldn’t he?

there was an expectation, and he didn’t meet it. naturally, it becomes a parasite in your love for juyeon. not only had you not seen him in months, his replies begin to spread out across days.

he doesn’t reply until more than 24 hours later, and even when he does, they are short. they are dry.

you start to wonder why he was being so irresponsible with a relationship, especially one that he initiated four years ago. your thoughts start to run wild in your head, and you worry if he had just been playing with you the entire time, and now he was probably kissing someone else in some dance studio in another city.

no, juyeon would never.

then the day came that he appears on social media after a long time. the light that filled you was so intense that you smiled just by noticing he’s finally not dead.

yet, you would’ve much preferred death over seeing another girl on his social media.

he didn’t have the time to respond to you, but he has the time to go out with another girl?

you leave him a text, trying to keep your cool and convince yourself that she was just a friend, and that he’d reply you as soon as possible if he knew you were feeling upset about him spending time with another girl.

hurt converts itself into something physical when he doesn’t reply.

one day passes, then two.

and soon, the whole week flies past.

calls don’t get through, much less messages.

just what was he doing?

you worry and wonder that he no longer loved you and he was merely running from you in hopes you’d leave him alone.

where had you gone wrong? were you a bad partner?

your grades started to take a toll, and memories of juyeon started to clog up in your head as if you weren’t already trying to tear your heart out of your chest.

juyeon no longer loves you.

he’s just having the time of his life in another city, with another girl, probably kissing her in the dance studio and running his hands all over her.

the mere thought kills you, so being able to actually imagine it in your head peels your skin off your body, leaving you in a wrecked mess on the floor with tissues used to wipe your tears.

then, sangyeon came along.

the fresh graduate was flustered when he sees a second-year student fallen apart in a tutorial room on his trips back to the university. but he recognises you from a branching out event you attended a month ago.

it lasted two weeks, and sangyeon was your teammate as a senior, so he was more than aware of your life and existence.

sang yeon stays a safe distance away from you while you try with way too much effort to calm your sobs down.

it’s not a surprise when it fails though, and you break down even harder with the force of someone beating you up

sangyeon doesn’t hesitate to scoot over to your side and pull you into his arms.

it was tricky, trying to recall what exactly you told him. your eyes were swollen and your face must’ve looked like a plum while your tears stained his shirt.

having someone’s shoulder to cry on was so comforting. it fills a gaping hole in your chest that shouldn’t be there in the first place.

sangyeon’s voice runs through your head like honey, honey that soothes the scalding burns juyeon left on your skin.

you knew it was dangerous, and there was a thin line to cross if you chose to let sangyeon through the doors of your heart.

most your friends weren’t truly aware of the status of the relationship, thus telling sangyeon everything at one go combusts you even further.

the urge to have someone’s skin pressed against yours, promising you that you were safe whenever they were around becomes painful to reject.

you will never forget the look in sangyeon’s eyes when you kiss him mid-sentence.

sangyeon tastes exactly his voice sounded, sweet and soft. his eyes were wide open the second you ram your lips into his.

his reluctance slips across your arm, feeling a small amount of force being applies to your elbow when he realises what was happening.

but that pressure softens, and he lets you treat him like juyeon, in attempt to cure your own broken heart.

you will make the biggest mistake you will ever make in your life that night, and that was letting yourself pretend sangyeon was juyeon.

not only were you the one who initiated the kiss in attempt to redeem the lack of affection you were none but craving, you chose to pretend juyeon was the one who spent the night leaving fluttering kisses all over your skin. to whisper words of comfort into your ears and kiss your tears away.

when you wake up and see a pair of eyes that shouldn’t be in such close proximity to yours, it feels like a sword has been driven through your stomach.

then you hear hell knocking on your door, but he sounds like love and missing.

it is a crack, then a rip and a complete separation of your body into two when juyeon realises the door of your dorm room is not locked, and he has that bright smile on his face when he walks into the room, thinking you were asleep.

everything happens under a minute, and sangyeon wasn’t even fully awake by the time juyeon was in the room, seeing you in bed with another man.

the memory of a fight the magnitude of tremendous proportions etches itself in your brain like a parasite.

juyeon literally hurls sangyeon out the door, the only piece of clothing on him being his underwear.

there was an effort to stop juyeon, because you knew it for yourself that it was not sangyeon’s fault.

it was yours, and it always will be.

juyeon has the man’s clothes thrown out the door and he slams it shut in his face before you could say anything to sangyeon, locking both himself and you in the room.

have you ever seen the eyes of someone who has absolutely no clue what he did wrong?

they are broken, confused, hurt, angry. juyeon’s were coveted with a layer of tears just seconds away from billowing over his lower lids when he sees that your face was reddening from shame as well.

there was a heavy silence that could’ve killed you, and you wished it did.

“are you waiting for me to ask--”

“no.”

“so what’s your explanation?”

you dump yourself on the edge of your bed, fingers pressing into your temples. if you pressed hard enough, maybe you could drill your fingers into your skull and rip out your brain.

“y/n.”

why did your own name sound so threatening when it comes from his lips?

“why did you do it? the fact that we were saving it so we could be each other’s first after marriage but you go ahead and do it with someone else--”

“oh, is that the only thing you care about? sex?”

“no, that’s not what i meant--”

“i thought you’d be pissed off over the fact that i have another guy in the picture regardless of our relationship--”

“which is exactly what i’m asking right now!”

the skin on your forehead gets pulled back when your palms hold back your hair. being interrogated by juyeon in just a bra and home shorts felt so humiliating, so degrading, but you can’t help but to have that pang of hatred for juyeon.

he was the one who incited this. all you did was react in a way disproportionate to your feelings.

“why’d you do it, y/n?”

his voice is shaky, and you were terrified to look up at him because you knew he was already crying.

it shatters your heart; you were angry.

with him.

with yourself.

his feet shuffles against the floor and he kneels before you, eyes desperately searching yours for any sign of remorse. his hands wrap around yours but you pull away with resentment, and you can’t help but to feel like he was guilt tripping you into apologising.

it was my fault, but he incited it.

“y/n--”

“stop, don’t touch me--”

“tell me what’s wrong, we’ll figure i--”

“tell you ‘what’s wrong’?” it takes alot of courage to shove him off and you lose sight of what was fuelling your emotions. “i’ll tell you what’s wrong, lee juyeon.”

he is shocked and you could almost hear something crack when he hears his name come off your tongue like you were regurgitating poison.

“you disappear off the face of earth for god knows how long and then when you finally show up again, it’s with another girl?”

it takes you awhile to notice you were now standing, and he was leaning back with his palms flat on the floor behind him.

tears were streaming down the corners of his eyes and you know it was solely from the fact that he’s caught you red-handed but you weren’t showing signs of regret or remorse.

it eats you that he thinks this is not his fault.

“look me in the eye and tell me confidently that you’ve been a responsible partner.”

gut-wrenching surprise writes itself across his face when the demand leaves your lips like venom.

your eyes finally give in, hiccups starting to form in the back of your throat when the still silence gives you some kind of hint that this relationship was as good as gone.

“i wait for you to reply for three days, sometimes more, and all you do is say ‘okay’ or ‘alright’ or ‘nah’-- how am i supposed to be convinced you are invested in this relationship? i haven’t seen you in like, what? four months?! not a proper text, no proper calls, you don’t bother to visit me though you know i can’t because of my work--”

the breathlessness in your chest is a cage with loosened screws and nails, an angry, uncontrollable beast inside waiting to lash out and give juyeon a tight slap across the face.

“ask yourself, lee juyeon,” the sobs become one with the hiccups, and droplets of agonising reality falls off the point of your chin. “who was that girl and why did you not bother to text me back? call me?”

his face falls as if he wasn’t already in a million pieces. the silence feels like a dozen paper cuts on your fingers and your lips cracking in the cold. it sounds like a the car on a roadtrip screeching to a violent stop, and it hurls both of you through the windshield.

your soul is bleeding when you see a muscle in his face twitch, because you now know he is as guilty as you are, even if he didn’t sleep with her.

heartbreak forms a hand on the crown of your head and pushes you to nod. the tears along your jawline get wiped away with the back of your hand, the mucus running down your philtrum is a mess on your bare chest and your face is not recovered from the excessive crying in the last twelve hours.

juyeon is quiet, but screaming in pain through his eyes.

the weight of how broken the both of you were slams down on both your shoulders without warning, and you find enough energy to gulp and clear your throat.

“get out.”

the scene looks like a freeze-frame, and you shake your head at the sight of his unwillingness.

“get out, juyeon.”

it feels like a knife is being dragged across your throat when you say the last words you thought you’d ever say to him.

“we are through.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 2

#lee juyeon #juyeon #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #juyeon smut #juyeon fanfic #the boyz smut #the boyz fanfic #the boyz angst #angst

258 notes · View notes

interstellarflowers · 4 years

Text

wish you were sober | billy hargrove x reader x steve harringon |

wish you were sober

billy hargrove x reader x steve harrington

summary: parties weren’t your thing, and maybe billy wasn’t either

a/n: hey everyone this is my first shot at writing a stranger things fic, and obviously my first time writing billy so i hope it’s okay! just a disclaimer, i dont condone billy’s behavior in stranger things and if you find yourself in an abusive relationship romantic or otherwise, please seek help! that being said this is inspired by conan gray’s wish you were sober i suggest listening to it while reading, also! the gif isn’t mine! im honestly not sure who made it but credit to them!

song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHyE_erqAe0

tw: angst, language

This party's shit, wish we could dip

Go anywhere but here

Parties were so not your scene. Alcohol wasn’t your thing, dancing anywhere outside of your room was out of the question and the music was deafeningly loud. So why were you here? Oh right, Billy fucking Hargrove. How could you even begin to describe your relationship with Billy Hargrove? The only way that you could think to describe it was the same way that you would describe Billy himself, soft in the middle, rough around the edges and full of fluctuations. One second you would feel like you were on top of the world, and the next you would feel as if you’d hit rock bottom. If you got to close you were sure to get cut but the closer you got the better it felt, the more it opened up. Sometimes you weren’t sure if you were talking about Billy or your relationship, sometimes you weren’t sure of anything.

Tonight, everything was on a downswing.

The day had started out fine, Billy drove you home from school and had managed to talk you into accompanying him to the party.

“It’ll be fine (y/n)!”

“What if it’s not?”

“It will be. Now go put on something nice so we can get going.” You sighed but complied, you knew that you’d do anything for him because you had just always assumed that he’d do the same. Assumed.

Not even ten minutes were you at the party and he was already at the keg stand doing exactly what Billy does best, being a reckless little shit. Having left you for alcohol so early on you found yourself frozen, so here you were.

“(y/n)!” Steve made a beeline for you through the crowd.

“Hey Steve.” you responded meekly,

“What’s up?”

“Oh you know, Billy.” you responded dryly, Steve’s face fell in disappointment.

Steve knew all about your dynamic relationship with Billy, the ups, the downs, but mostly the downs. Steve had been a good friend of yours since diapers so it was only natural that he would know everything about you and Billy,

“What now?” You nodded over in Billy’s direction as you and Steve watched him stumble towards you,

“Harrington.” Billy slurred shooting Steve a look that could kill.

Don't take a hit, don't kiss my lips

And please don't drink more beer

“And that’s when Steve makes an exit,” Steve says patting your back and disappearing back into the crowd,

“What did he want?”

“Nothing Billy, he’s my friend, you know that.”

“I don’t like him.”

“I know you don’t like him Billy.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing Billy,” you shifted your gaze to the floor, refusing to look Billy in the eye, you didn’t feel like expressing your disappointment in him, you just wanted to make it through the night so that you could just go home,

“I know,” Billy gave you one of his classic smirks failing to notice how you looked down, “You need a drink.”

“Billy, I don’t really drink-”

“Oh? So you don’t want to drink it?” Billy moved his face closer to yours, lifting your chin up, his breath smelt of beer and something else that you were pretty sure you could place as weed.

“Billy please don’t-”

He did anyways, he tasted how he smelt, and you didn’t like it. You waited for him to pull away and watched as he turned to get more beer,

“Billy.” you said over the crowd with a soft tone,

“(y/n).” he turned around, sending shivers down your spine, and not in the way you liked,

“Please don’t drink more beer.” He only laughed and continued walking away.

I'ma crawl outta the window now

'Cause I don't like anyone around

Kinda hope you're following me out

But this is definitely not my crowd

As the night went on it only got worse, Billy seemed to have an inhuman tolerance for alcohol as he downed one after the other. Ignoring you, leaving you to sit alone.

You sat at the edge of the pool, your shoes off with just up to your ankles submerged in the chlorinated water. You were taken out of your thoughts when someone over by the porch screamed,

“COPS! EVERYBODY RUN!”

You quickly stood up stumbling to put your shoes on as you rapidly searched the crowd for Billy, failing to be able to see him through the masses. You finally got your shoes back on and pushed your way through everyone still searching for Billy, you kept searching until you found yourself face to face with a certain someone everyone had been running from-

“(y/l/n)?” Hopper stared at you astonished to see Jane’s on and off babysitter at a party like this,

“Hopper?”

“What are you doing here?” Tears started to well up in your eyes as you struggled to create sentences,

“I want to go home…” you managed to squeak out. Hopper nodded silently before briefly leaving to scan the grounds, having found that everyone else had managed to escape, you followed Hopper to his car.

“Thank you.” you said quietly as you strapped yourself in,

“It’s no problem,” Hopper paused for a second testing the waters, “But I really have to ask (y/n), what in the world were you doing there?”

You shook your head at him and Hopper respected that whatever your reasons were that you didn’t want to talk about it. He decided not to press further, he knew that you were a good kid, so whatever you were doing there, he trusted you.

On the drive home the car was silent but your mind was buzzing with thoughts of Billy. You swore that you could still taste the alcohol from his lips. Every minute or so you couldn’t help but look out the rear view window, wishing that Billy was following you home to say that he was sorry or to at least say goodnight.

“Here we are,” Hopper pulled over in front of you house,

“Thank you.” you said as you got out of his car,

“(y/n)?” you turned to look at him, “Don’t let anybody make you do anything you don’t want to do, okay?” You nodded firmly and thanked him again before shutting the passenger seat of the car door and quietly letting yourself into your house.

It was dark, good. The last thing you needed was to deal with your dad tonight, his bedroom door was shut and the lights were off in there too, which meant that you were safe. You took note that your parent’s car wasn’t in the driveway which meant that your Mom was out with one of her men on the side...again.

You lightly padded down the hallway and let out a sigh of relief as you finally shut your bedroom door.

“(y/n).” It was him, you turned your head to the right taking notice that your window had been left open.

“Billy.” You couldn’t lie, you were relieved to see him, but you couldn’t hide the hurt in your tone.

Nineteen but you act twenty-five now

Knees weak, but you talk pretty proud, wow

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed

Take me where the music ain't too loud

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her

Save me 'till the party is over

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

“(y/n),” Billy was hammered, “I didn’t realize that you didn’t escape too, I would have driven you home. So I came here and I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Billy, did you drive here?”

“Yeah, parked down the street.”

“Billy, you’re drunk.”

“(y/n), you’re pretty.” He gave you another classic smirk that only Billy Hargrove could do and placed a kiss to your lips. Alcohol still on his breath. You frowned,

“What’s wrong (y/n)?” you sighed and started to change into your pajamas,

“It’s nothing Billy.” you saw Billy watching you take your clothes off out of the corner of your eye but you didn’t really care in this moment all you could think about was how little Billy seemed to care about you.

“It’s not nothin’, you’re pissed.” Billy put his hands on his hips and faced you as you sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed,

“What is it (y/n)?” Billy moved in closer to you and kissed your forehead, “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He was too close right now. It was too much. You could feel the aftermath of the sound system in your eardrums and it still felt like a train was running through your body, the closer he got the stronger the stench of alcohol was, it was seriously too much, you forced your gaze away from him and your eyes fixated on a crack in your wooden floorboards,

“You’re sweet Billy, but I wish you were sober.”

I wish you were sober

Wish you were so, wish you were so, wish you were sober

I wish you were sober

“But (y/n), it was a party.”

“I know Bily, I’m sorry, I just, I just wish you were.”

“Sober?” he rolled his eyes at you, “I wish you were drunk.”

“I don’t want to be.” you said quietly as you continued to fixate your gaze on the floorboard.

Tripped down the road, walking home

You kissed me at your door

Pulling me close, begging me to stay over

But I'm over this rollercoaster

Billy’s face faltered and he ran his hands through his hair,

“Look, (y/n), I’m sorry okay? Let’s just go back to my place, and I’ll have you back before your dad even notices you’re gone, okay? Please?”

“Billy.”

“My dads not home, and Max is at her friend’s, it’ll just be you and me, and we can, we can just...We can just do. You know? Let’s just go (y/n), come on.”

“Billy please.”

“(y/n), let’s go. Love you, you know?.”

Billy never failed to put the “I” in the relationship never failing to completely leave behind his narcissistic ways despite this, Billy Hargrove never failed to leave the “I” out of “I love you.”

“Billy, I love you...I really love you but I’m over this rollercoaster. I’m sorry.”

“(y/n), what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I can’t do this anymore Billy.”

“Do what? (y/n), yes you can, you just said so.”

“Billy I’m sorry, but you have to leave.”

“(y/n), you love me, you can’t-”

“Yes Billy, I love you.”

“See? So why-”

“I love you but you’re killing me.”

Billy opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it again, he looked at the ground, at you, and then at the ground again before making his way out of your window, leaving you to sit on the edge of your bed tears falling onto your floor.

I'ma crawl outta the window now

Getting good at saying, "gotta bounce"

Honestly you always let me down

And I know we're not just hanging out

Billy had taught you how to do a few things without even meaning to. He taught you how to get good at hiding disappointment. He taught you to get really good at responding to “gotta bounce.” He taught you how to hold on tight on a rollercoaster. But most importantly he taught you what it was like to die without taking your final breath.

Nineteen but you act twenty-five now

Knees weak, but you talk pretty proud, wow

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed

Steve Harrington. You swore he was a different breed. He was eighteen but he acted like he was twenty-five, yeah, it was obnoxious sometimes, but just by looking at him you could tell that it was warranted. He never did tell you about what had happened in the past two years, all you knew was that there were just some things that were better left unsaid, and you were okay with that, you could understand that.

Steve Harrington was something that you could understand.

It started slowly, Monday morning after the incident Billy pulled up to your house in the morning only to see you getting into Steve’s car, smiling lightly as Dustin pouted in the backseat. Billy felt a pang in his chest but ignored it, figuring that all of this would blow over in a week, you loved him after all, and he did love you.

Steve Harrington drove you to school for the rest of that week, and the weeks following, weeks turned into months, and it was March. Three months since the incident and Billy never failed to loop around your block, just in case. Still in denial.

On the other hand, you had never felt better in your entire life. Steve was a breath of fresh air after breathing in smoke for so long. He had a special mixtape to sing along to on your morning commutes together, he would bring you coffee some mornings, and every day he would greet you with a bright smile and a,

“Good morning love.” There it was. You smiled at Steve, getting into his passenger seat. Billy had seen you smile before, but never like this, you smiled with your eyes.

“Gross” whined Dustin, “Get a room, and drive me to school already.” Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes,

“Aye aye captain.”

“Another party?”

“Yeah, I know you don’t like them,” you sat on Steve’s bed staring at the ceiling, “But I promised that I’d go and I don’t want to leave my best girl alone on a Friday night.”

“Not your girl Steve,” you giggle and Steve smiles and rolls his eyes making his way over to look you in the eyes,

“And I promise that I will not leave your side.”

Take me where the music ain't too loud

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her

Save me 'till the party is over

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

He didn’t. Steve Harrington didn’t leave your side the whole night. Regardless, you let him do his thing, zoning out and following him around like a lost puppy dog. Billy watched from a corner of the party, you and Steve seemed to be getting on nicely. Billy wished that he could say that he was happy that you were happy, he had always wished he could be someone like that, but he couldn’t. He downed his eighth drink of the night as he followed you with his eyes and all he could feel was hurt.

“(y/n)?” Steve had pulled you into a quieter part of the house,

“Steve.” you smiled up at him, wondering why the sudden shift in attitude,

“(y/n),” Steve took a deep breath looking you in the eye, “I need to tell you something. It’s really important and I’ve been meaning to say it for a while so, here it goes...I love you.”

Your chest squeezed before you masked your feelings, giggling and rolling your eyes at him,

“You’re drunk Steve.”

“Completely sober actually.” You met Steve’s eyes again,

“Are you for real?”

“Completely and one hundred percent real.”

“Well Steve, I love you too.” Steve smiled at you before leaning down to kiss you. His lips were soft and they tasted like cherry chapstick and rain.

Sober.

a/n i hope you liked it! thank you for reading! please reblog and like if you enjoyed! should i make a part two?

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lifblogs · 4 years

Text

Livin In You: Chapter 9

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Destiel Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1011 Summary: Castiel is a mental health worker who is just fine with the way his life is. The only thing that really bugs him is how much his co-worker, and friend, Meg, mentions Dean Winchester, the most famous rock star in the modern age. Meg drags him to a concert, and he ends up getting tied into the wild and angsty life of Dean Winchester. Suddenly his old life seems boring, but so much calmer. Suddenly, it matters to him that he's still a virgin. Suddenly, this rock star that he despised the mention of, now matters to him. Dean Winchester is a rock star who's on top of the world when it comes to music. Yet there's more that he wants. He misses Lisa and Ben, he craves connection, craves being himself. Any hope for that amidst his alcoholic life all changes when Zachariah, the head exec of Heaven's Records, pairs with a new exec, Michael Edlund -- the Archangel of Music. Under Michael's dominance, he's no longer in control of his own life. There are rules. No more sex with fans. No more alcohol. And in Dean's view, no more god damn free will. Yet he stumbled into Castiel. READ ON AO3 | READ ON FF.NET CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8

“Meg, oh my god, I’m so sorry I didn’t call you earlier,” Cas said. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” she asked, incredulous. “Whose phone is this? Are you okay?”

“There was a little accident,” he explained, walking farther away from the bathroom, towards the kitchenette. He glanced back at the bathroom, the one with a very naked Dean Winchester in it.

God, what was even happening?”

“My car had to get towed. I found someone to stay with.”

“Why didn’t you just come back here?”

“He… He needed some help.”

“Cas, you can’t help everybody who falls into your lap. You’re a mental health worker, not a miracle worker. Besides, you need to save some of that empathy and energy for yourself, your own self care. You know how things get when we don’t take care of ourselves.”

Cas frowned, lying, “I’m… taking care of myself. He just needs help. Uh, I’m calling from his phone. Everything will be okay. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

“Are you gonna get yourself killed?”

“What?”

“Well, how serious is his issue?”

“Hmm… Define serious.”

“Cas!”

“He’s drunk. Think he’s an…” Cas realized Dean still might be able to hear him, so he lowered his voice before going on, “alcoholic.”

“You go out for a cup of tea and find yourself an alcoholic. Congrats. Think you’re gonna get paid overtime?”

“Meg!”

“You ditched me.”

“I was just getting tea,” he argued.

“And now you’re with some guy.”

“He’s… cute,” Cas reasoned.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’d never. He’s drunk.”

Castiel was about to add that he didn’t know much about what to do when it came to sex anyway, but Meg had no idea he was a virgin. He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed about it, knew it was just a label used to control people, usually women. He had to be at least okay with his body and who he was.

For the most part he was alright with all of that. But Dean’s reaction to finding out he was a virgin had made him feel… strange.

Maybe Castiel didn’t want to be a virgin anymore.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“Assbutt.”

“That’s my word,” he argued.

“Alright, Clarence. I’m pissed at you, but goodnight. Be safe.”

“You too.”

They hung up, and Cas went back into the bathroom to give Dean his phone. There was a timer running on it. Had about sixteen minutes left.

His bath. Right, it was for his bath.

“So why did you punch a wall?” Castiel asked as he settled down by the counter again.

“Got angry,” Dean simply answered.

“About?”

Dean waved his hand. “Look, we’ll… Tomorrow. We can talk tomorrow. For now, just… make yourself useful or get out.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow as he looked down at him. “Useful?”

Dean sighed, cheeks red, and he admitted, “I’m not used to bringing a fan back to my hotel and not gettin’ any.”

“I’m not a fan,” Castiel pointed out.

“Right, right. ‘Cause you have a stick up your ass.”

Castiel didn’t feel any hurt from Dean’s words.

“You’re tired, drunk, probably in pain. You don’t mean to be acting like this.”

“How do you know what I mean?”

“You could say I’ve… studied humanity. And there’s good there. So there’s good in you, even if you’re upset now, or trying to throw me off, or hoping you’ll get to use me.”

Dean grumbled, “I don’t use people.”

“Then you didn’t mean what you said to me. Something clearly set you off before we even met. You just have to take care of yourself physically first.”

Castiel left the bathroom to go get something, Dean yelling, “Wait, where are you going?”

After searching through the fridge, he found what he needed, popped the cap, and then went into the bathroom to give it to Dean.

“Here. Drink. It’ll get the alcohol out of your system faster, and you’re probably dehydrated.”

“Water’s boring.”

Castiel stared at him hard, leaning over as he held out the bottle. As he did so he did his best to not glance at Dean’s thighs, or any part of him that was under the water really. What lay there was too tempting. And too confusing. Meg had been right. Castiel needed self care, and just as much as Dean did. He was important too, despite what this rockstar might think. Though, now that he was with him, a lot of the arrogance he’d seen on stage had mellowed. Something in Dean just seemed… hurt, angry. It showed in his apple green eyes, with the slight pout on his plump, cupid’s bow lips. And maybe after Castiel left tears would trail down those sharp cheekbones and cut through the makeup he could see now that he was up close. Were those freckles lightly dotting his skin beneath it? No. Didn’t matter. He forced the water closer, realizing Dean wasn’t taking it. That’s what he was here for, not… admiring the view.

“Fine.”

Dean took it, and Castiel was content when he unscrewed the cap and started drinking it. Though, that soon turned into chugging.

“Take it slow.”

Dean grumbled.

“Need help with your hand?”

“I can handle it.”

“Well, there’s only one bed, so I guess I’ll sleep on the couch. Uh… goodnight, Dean.”

Dean raised his swollen right hand in recognition, sipping at the water.

“Night.”

Castiel grabbed some blankets he found from the closet, and pulled them over himself, sinking into the couch. This really wasn’t a bad place to sleep. Somehow this piece of furniture meant for simply sitting around and reading, maybe watching TV, was more comfortable than his bed at home. Even before knowing that, the idea of sleeping on the couch hadn’t daunted him. Castiel had spent many a night shift in a chair that was a few years past its prime. Finding comfort on a couch was easy compared to that.

Before he could process where he was, what he was wearing, who he was with, exhaustion caught up to him and he drifted off.

#Destiel #Destiel fanfiction #Destiel AU #Supernatural #SPN #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #my writing #Livin In You #long post

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sheeple · 4 years

Text

The intern | 11: Drunk confessions

GIFS NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): intern!au / fluff / mild angst Group(s): NCT / Red Velvet Pairing(s): Moon Taeil x fem!reader Summary: The new Elysion Publishings intern is the youngest they ever had. It’s not a problem until she grabs the attention of the IT guy. Warning(s): Age-gap of five years [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist]

“Let’s play truth, dare or drink”, chirps Wendy after around an hour of drinking, eating, and talking. We’re all sprawled across the couches and the ground.

“What are we, children?”, questions Taeyong, his head leaning on my shoulder.

“No”, I pout, “it will be fun.”

Everybody agrees and we shove the couch back against the wall as Mark grabs an empty soju bottle and places it on the ground.

We gather around it and Johnny gives the bottle a spin and it lands on Wendy. “Truth or dare?”, he asks with a smirk.

“Dare”, she grins.

Johnny pulls out his phone and scrolls through it, a smirk forming on his lips. “Let Mark style your hair and keep it for the rest of the evening.”

Wendy let’s out a loud groan. “Oh come on! He will make me look ridiculous.” She throws her arms up and Mark gets up and walks over her, sitting behind her and combing through her hair with his fingers.

“Don’t worry, cous. I’ll do my best.”

I give him a brush and some elastics as Wendy spins the bottle, landing next to me, on Taeyong. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but dare.” A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he watches Wendy

Wendy grabs Johnny’s phone and her eyes travel over it. “I dare you... to spin ten times and then try to walk straight.”

He jumps up and pinches his nose as he starts to spin. We count with the turns he makes and as he reaches the tenth, he stands up straight and sets one food in front of him, before he stumbles to the side, on top of me.

I laugh loudly and help him back on his feet. “Just try to follow the seam of the floorboards”, I encourage him.

Taeyong succeeds after a couple of failed tries and lets himself fall back on the ground, leaning with his forehead against my shoulder. He reaches for the bottle and spins it, not really doing a great job.

The bottle lands on Taeil and he blushes. “Dare.”

“Hmm... drink ten shots”, grumbles Taeyong, still a bit nauseous from the spins.

“Ah shit, I’m a light-head”, he curses and grabs one of the shot glasses we’ve prepared on the table. “Can I do five now and five later?.”

Taeil trows back shot after shot and I look with big eyes at him. I never imagined him doing it. He pours five more but sets them back behind him.

Now it’s Taeil turn to spin the bottle and it lands on where Mark sat before he got to do Wendy’s hair.

“Truth”, he says as he twists three strands together.

“Have you ever cheated”, says Wendy before Taeil can ask anything.

“It was not your turn to ask anything”, snaps Mark back as he tugs harshly on Wendy’s hair.

“Good question! Did you?” Taeil leans with his head on his palm.

“If it’s about school tests, I did not. If you’re talking about video games. Then I did it a couple of times.” He shrugs.

“I knew so! There’s no way you beat me everything at Uno!”, I let out and smack Mark on his head with my slipper.

“Oh shut up you”, he grumbles as he spins the bottle, this time landing on me.

My ears heat up. “Truth.”

Mark smirks deviously as Wendy whispers something in his ear. “Do you have a crush? And if yes, what’s their name?”

“Oh fuck, I don’t know dudes”, I immediately say and throw the cousins a nasty glare.

“So you do?”, smirks Taeyong and Johnny laughs loudly.

“I never had a real crush so I wouldn’t know what it feels like.” I scowl and get up. “Whatever, I’m gonna pee. Tae, you can have this turn.” I shuffle towards the bathroom and close the door behind me.

I sit on the toilet and pull my phone out of my pocket. I open up the chat of my friends back home and start to type away.

As I am mid-type, a knock on the door scares me. I unlock the door and to my surprise stand Taeil leaning against the doorpost, supporting his drunk body on it.

“Do you like someone else?”, he asks, his voice unexpectedly clear for someone who drowned ten shots.

When I don’t answer but keep blinking at him, he pushes me into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. I take steps back until Taeil has me cornered against the sink.

“Tell me”, he whispers, “did I get my hopes up?” Taeil presses his forehead against my own. His alcohol breath tickles my nose and I scrunch my nose.

“You’re drunk, Taeil. You don’t know what you’re saying.” I push against his chest.

But he grabs both of my hands and intertwines our hands, letting them drop next to our bodies.

“I... I finally dare to say what I wanted to do for a long time. And now you admit to having a crush... I thought we had something. A connection.” Taeil looks away and I chuckle, unwinding one of my hands and placing it on his cheek.

“Look, I don’t know how this whole crush thing works. As I said, I never... how do I put this? I never like-liked someone, you know?”

Taeil looks up, a weird expression in his eyes. “Let me take you out”, he says breathlessly.

A smile grows on my face and I nod. “Again? I would love that.”

He lets out a surprised laugh and hugs me tightly, burying his nose in the crook of my neck.

And at that moment, even if it was for just a smidge, everything felt complete. Everything is in its place and it’s just Taeil and me.

Just for a moment, because we soon get interrupted by Taeyong who throws the door open and everyone standing there with a smirk on their faces. The fuckers had it all planned...

“See! They weren’t hooking up!”, yells Taeyong as he throws his arms in the air.

“Well... it could be”, mumbles Mark, whines leaving his lips as Wendy gives him a smack against the back of his head.

“Shut up y’all”, I say with a bright blush on my cheeks, shooing them away.

They stay for another two hours but decide that around 11 will be the best time they go home.

“It was fun”, says Johnny as he, Wendy, and Taeyong hug me.

“Are you guys sure you don’t want to stay over? I have a big bed and extra blankets and pillows.”

Wendy shakes her head and strokes my hair. “That’s very kind, darling. But we’ve called a friend who’s willing to bring us home.”

“Speaking about that friend, he’s here”, says Johnny as he pokes his head around the corner and Wendy and I give each other one last hug before they walk down the stairs.

“See you another time”, says Mark as he slides his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

“Do you need me to walk with you?”, I question as I watch Mark lace up his sneakers.

“And let you walk back alone? How about no?” He rolls smiling his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I have Taeil to protect me.” I pull the said man on his arm closer to me and smile.

“He is?”, says Mark at the same time Taeil says, “I am?”

“Yeah”, I say matter of factly, “he’s staying over.”

“I am?”, he questions again.

“You are. Don’t think I let you drive back home with all that alcohol in your system?”, I bicker back, silencing him.

“Anyways, text you when I am home.” Mark waves at us as he walks away, grabbing the keys of his bike.

“So”, I say as I throw the door closed. “Just go and watch some tv or something as I clean up the dirty dishes.”

“None of that”, scoffs Taeil as he starts to stumble around, grabbing cups and plates to clean up too. "I’m not that rude.”

I just nod and let him try to fix up the living room. I grab the empty bowls and walk towards the kitchen. I fill the sink with warm soapy water and put all the dishes in it.

“My dishwasher sucks so I have to pre-clean everything”, I explain to Taeil as he looks at me weirdly.

He hums, putting the glasses in the water too. “I’ll clean the living room and make sure everything’s back on their original place if you load the dishwasher?”, he propositions and I nod, rolling up my sleeves.

After a while, as I washed and loaded in everything in the dishwasher, I notice it’s awfully silent in the living room. As I dry my hands I walk towards the living and see that Taeil has fallen asleep on the couch, his cheek mushed against the cushion.

A chuckle leaves my lips and I walk towards my room, pulling out a spare cushion and blacked. I lift Taeil’s head up and tuck him in. With a soft smile, I brush away his bangs to admire his peaceful expression.

I turn around and walk away to get ready for bed. As quiet as I can, I brush my teeth and get into bed, the smile no way coming off my face.

It’s half-past twelve and after scrolling through my phone for half an hour and almost dropping it on my face, I finally let myself get the rest I need.

But that’s soon disturbed by a soft knock on my door and the creak of its opening. Taeil peeks his head through the crack, his hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Hey, (Y/n)”, he whispers and I hum. “Are you sleeping?”

With a soft groan, I get up and look at him. “Nah, just trying. What’s up?”

“Well, it’s very cold and I can’t sleep so...”, he trails off while playing with his hand. Now I notice the pillow under his arm.

I scoot over and pat the space next to me. Taeil smiles brightly and waddles over, placing his pillow next to mine and sliding under the covers.

"We have to get up early tomorrow though if we want to be on time at work. Since we have to drive past your place first.”

“Why? I can go to work in the clothes I wore today.”

I roll my eyes. “You mean the clothes you spilt three shots of soju on, those clothes?”

Taeil bites his lip. “You’re right. Better get up early tomorrow.”

I shake my head with a slight smile. “Goodnight.” I close my eyes and with a sigh, I fall asleep.

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dakohtah · 4 years

Text

i’d never hurt no one, and no one would ever hurt me

Oops! All Magnus fic, set post balance arc bc I felt like the boy was in need of some Hurtin. also available on my ao3

After the Day of Story and Song (TM TM TM), Magnus stayed pretty busy. He had to: even with the Hunger defeated, the devastation left in the wake of John’s appearance had left the entire planar system reeling with the weight of what it had nearly lost.

It wasn’t for his own sake, honestly. He was made to help. To protect. It’s what he’d wanted to do in Raven’s Roost. It’s what he’d apparently fought to do for—well. For a good while. So, when he started cleaning up the city of Neverwinter, it was just another facet of his duty. Real natural. A different way to save the world.

It was what he was supposed to do.

So, Magnus set out.

His work in Neverwinter spread slowly, inexorably down into Rockport. He just figured folks could use a friendly face and a couple of helping hands as they got back on their feet, that’s all. These people—their weary faces lighting up in the face of a multi-universal semi-celebrity—they were almost always grateful, offering him a hot meal and a place to sleep as he passed through. Kids would beg him to stay a little longer, to play just one more game, or at least to show them his sword again before he moseyed onto the next town. Magnus had never pegged himself as the nomadic type—by choice, at any rate, but he wasn’t going to think about—well. So much to say, life on the road very nearly suited him. He really, really liked it.

The labor was nice, too. Folks always needed something done, big or small. He might find himself rebuilding houses. Spooking bandits away from some older pathways. Maybe helping to shape up old furniture. More and more, he found himself chopping firewood in preparation for the incoming Faerun winter. It all kept him just busy enough that he didn’t. Well. There wasn’t much time to overthink, was all.

He never admitted, out loud or in the privacy of his mind, that he wasn’t ready to unpack it all. Not the hundred years he wasn’t supposed to have or the way that he’d lost them—like they’d never happened to begin with.

And then, to have remembered it all anyway.

To have heard it, experienced it being broadcast across the planar system—left gasping at pieces of his own story that hadn’t quite settled in the amalgamated mess the voidfish (Fisher and Junior, their names are Fisher and—) had left of his mind. To have accomplished in one day what one hundred years of effort fell short of.

And then what?

Was it time to celebrate? Or mourn? Magnus had lived nearly eighty percent of his life on borrowed time, and now the clock was ticking. He didn’t—?

It’s just. He couldn’t unpack it yet because he wasn’t sure what was supposed to come after. Somehow, he never in one hundred years thought there could be an after. Not for him.

Not after the Hunger and not after Julia.

So, Magnus set out and he fixed things because it was what he was supposed to do. He stayed on the move and helped where he could because he always had, and he was good at it. He almost always liked the people, and the work, and the children, and the way that almost no one ever asked him to talk about it more than once.

Sure, they’d always ask at least one time if he’d tell them about it. And he’d always answer, with an aborted little ‘eh’ hand gesture, “Maybe later?”

And then they’d let it go. And if they didn’t then he left as soon as the work ran dry. Maybe sooner, depending on their persistence. He’d heard that the city of Goldcliff was real warm, even in the winter. He let the thought settle in his mind. A little warmth felt like something he was well overdue.

“It sounds like you’re doing good work, Magnus,” and if Lucretia’s voice was halting as it traveled through the Stone of Farspeech, Magnus would chalk it up to a faulty fantasy connection. He didn’t look into it. If he thought too hard, he’d find himself buried in particulars that had been tucked away with Junior for nearly a decade. (Lucretia sounds like this at the beginning of every new year—this is the sound of her processing regrets. Don’t ask her if she thinks we could have saved them, she does. She’ll tell you how and you don’t want to hear it and she doesn’t want to say it. Remind her to eat. Remind her to sleep. Remind her you love her. Remind h—) “I. Well, I’ve told you about the work we’ve been doing at the Bureau of Benevolence. It’s—a start. If you ever decide that. Um. Well, you’d be welcome, of course, if you ever wanted to come and—well, if you’d like to—”

Stay. She wanted him to come and to stay and Magnus wanted—something. Not that. Not yet. Maybe never? Magnus wanted, but what?

“Thanks, Luce,” and maybe Magnus’ voice was a little soft. Faulty fantasy connection. Hard to tell. “Might take you up on that here soon,” but not yet. “Glad to hear things are still coming along with the rebrand. I gotta hit the hay, but I’ll catch up with you later, okay? Send my love to Carrie and Killian and Avi and Fish—uh, y’know. Everybody.”

Lucretia gave a halfhearted chuckle, “I will, Magnus.” The pause was as long as it was palpable, steaming in the chill of the air alongside Magnus’ puffs of breath, “I love you, you know.”

“I—” and it wasn’t easy to find words, but he managed eventually, “I, uh. Yeah. Yeah, I love you, too, Lucy. G’night.”

“Goodnight.”

The barn—too small for livestock, but just large enough to shelter a little feed, a load of firewood, and one Magnus Burnsides—seemed to hold an echo as the line cut out. It hadn’t felt too quiet when he’d settled in for the evening, but Magnus found himself wanting—something, anything. Early on in his pilgrimage, there had been crickets. Summer cicadas. The rustle of nocturnal animals who hadn’t yet tucked themselves away for the season. The sound of children laughing, sneaking out for moonlit mischief.

Magnus couldn’t quite pinpoint when his evenings had become silent.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint when the stillness had begun to bother him.

Not to say he was bothered. He wasn’t. He traveled alone for years, long before he’d even seen Craig’s List or heard any names even vaguely resembling Merle or Taak—oh, and there he went. Thinking about it.

Magnus took a moment to count the pieces of wood stacked in the corner. Seventy-eight. He would chop a little more before he left in the morning. It was shaping up to be a bitter season.

He just. Well.

He could stand to invest in a fantasy noisemaker, that’s all. For the first time, Magnus found himself wishing that Fantasy Costco hadn’t fucked clean off his plane of existence. Garfield may have been unsettling in a way that scraped at his bones, but he had a great selection.

Magnus took one deep breath, and then another. Tried not to remember the way Merle’s snoring would echo in tight quarters, tried not to remember the way that it was a menace this year but a comfort for about eighty before.

Seventy-eight pieces of wood in the corner. The dual sounds of pens on papers, now visceral in their absence, and Magnus would chop more before he left in the morning.

The lack of gentle footsteps pacing at one, two, three in the morning, and the lack of a rustle at four when Davenport would crawl back into his bunk. It was shaping up to be a bitter season, and Magnus could almost hear Barry and Lup whispering in the early morning. Heart-wrenching and gentle. In the silence of the Starblaster, Magnus would sometimes catch the tail-end of an “I love you,” and he took one deep breath. And then another.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, seventy-eight pieces of wood, and Taako leaning down over the top bunk at the Bureau of Balance. “Couldn’t sleep either, big fella?” The joke was stupid, elves never fucking sleep, but somehow, he always, always knew when Magnus was lying awake. Merle would say something about old habits, and fuck. Fuck chopping wood in the morning.

So, Magnus set out, just as the sun was teasing a light blush along the horizon. His feet crunched merrily as they hit the frosted ground. A bird chirped once, and then again.

It was shaping up to be a bitter season.

#taz fanfic #taz fanfiction #taz balance #the adventure zone #magnus burnsides #lucretia #listen linda the boy is HURT #its literally just self-indulgent pain im sorry fellas

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plumberrypudding · 4 years

Text

This will probably get pretty rant and definitely very personal and maybe kinda long so I mean. Read at your own discretion.

It's currently 4:14 a.m. and I'm almost in tears over this pain. It's not so awful right now but within the last hour and half it's the worst it's been in a long time. Yeah, an HOUR and a half. Pretty much all of that time (tmi here probably but whatever) was spent in the bathroom. I fucking hate my body so much sometimes. Swear to god it feels like it hates me. It hardly ever works like it's supposed to. It makes me so fucking sad and angry and upset because it's not fucking fair. Everyone else gets to just go to bed at a reasonable hour, sleep through the night, and then wake up the next morning at a reasonable hour. But not me! Nope. I don't get to sleep until at least sometime in the a.m., usually a single digit number greater than 1. And I fucking hate. Then I sleep till the double digits at least if I don't loop back around into the singles and then fucking guess what! I'm tired all day anyways!!! It makes no difference if I get 5 or 6 or 8 or 9 or 11 hours of sleep. I'm always tired. It doesn't happen super often, but sometimes this stupid piece of shit (referring to my body) wakes me up with pain. Today it was nearly 2 entire god damn hours ago that I woke up because my stomach was practically yelling at me with all the gurgling. I wanted to rip it out. It still hurts, but the gurgling is at least gone. So after (again, tmi, but it's the most important part) of spending 2:45ish a.m. to 3:56 a.m. in the bathroom, my stomach starts to clear up a little and I know I can go back to bed but the pain will linger for a while. So I go back to bed. 10 minutes later I'm in my dad's room asking if we have any pepto-bismol or something or anything. I tell him I already went through the bathroom and there wasn't anything. He says that's all there is and he's sorry he doesn't have anything to give me. I tell him it's ok, I can just go back to bed and deal, if there's nothing to do about it then there just isn't anything to do. I tell him I'm sorry for waking him up and goodnight I go back downstairs and immediately there are tears in my eyes because I just. Hate this fucking lump of malfunctioning flesh and organs and bones so much sometimes. It never fucking works and I'm always tired or in pain, usually both. And its just so unfair. I know I'm whining and relatively this isn't a huge deal but I don't feel things relatively! My existence and emotions are not defined based on a cumulative scale of human suffering. I know it's not true when I say this but it feels true so it doesn't even matter but no one else has to deal with this. Everybody else just gets to exist in a perfectly healthy meat suit and I'm stuck with this one. I know that's the furthest thing from true, I have it pretty good compared to lots and lots of people but emotionally they're just not there. Emotionally everyone else is ok and I'm suffering alone. This was the first time I had actually gone to sleep before midnight in god knows how long. I was going to get a good amount of sleep at a good time. And then the fire alarm went off on accident and that fucked me up a bit. And then THIS whole shit show (no pun intended) (gross, I know) happened and not it's a quarter to 5 in the morning. This was going to be my good one. But no. I'm not allowed good ones. That would be too generous.

Just once, I'd like to get a good night's sleep and feel well-rested all day the next day until I get tired for bed time when I can just go to sleep. No stomach aches, no fucked digestive system, so fatigue, no fucked endocrine system, no staying awake an hour after going to bed, no sleeping past noon, just one day of being healthy. Just one. It's not fair.

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hiyadarlingirl · 5 years

Text

EVERGREEN LOVE, part 9

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 , part 8, part 10

Summary; You join Freddie, Rog, Bri and Mary on a spontaneous roadtrip to a cabin of Brian’s uncle in Scotland but it starts snowing heavily while on the road.

Wordcount; 2,1k

Warnings; Swearing and fluff. I mean two days crammed in a tiny space, hellooa fighting boys and sexual tension:)

Smutt will come along the way, stay tuned:))))))))

Thankyou for reading everybody! I love you to pieces! Please let me know what you think of this part, I live for feedback:) If you like it, feel free to reblog! Means the world to me<3 <3 I love you forever, yours always x

p.s. if you wonder where that precious bean of a john deacy is; he joined the band later when it was queen instead of smile! If you miss him, feel free to request!

‘Not that damn country music again!’ Roger came out of his seat and bended forward to reach for the radio.

‘Hey! Driver is king!’ Brian objected and swatted his hand away. You were in the van heading to Scotland and it had been like this for the past two hours.

‘King my ass! If I hear another Johnny Cash song I swear I’m gonna jump out of the moving van voluntarily.’

‘Be my guest.’

‘I quite like it actually.’ Freddie who was sitting behind Brian commented and bopped his head to the rhythm. ‘It has a nice vibe to it don’t you think Rog?’

‘Not after the five hours we’ve been listening to it, no I don’t Fred.’ Roger fumed.

‘Rog get your ass out of my face and sit down.’ You demanded and tried pulling him back by his elbow.

‘Hey! You should be on my side!’ Roger spoke indignantly.

Brian laughed and turned up the volume. ‘Y/N has good taste, unlike our princess Rog over here.’

‘Well I couldn’t agree more.’ You affirmed. ‘But I just don’t wanna die just yet, alright guys. ’

Roger finally sat down but not before quickly grabbing a handful of crisps and throwing it at Brian’s back.

‘Hey! What the hell Rog!’ Brian cried out annoyed and shook his shoulders to get rid of the crisps. ‘Don’t distract the driver!’

You could see Rogers hand now sneakily reaching for the bag of chocolates but you caught his wrist right in the act before he could cause any more damage.

‘Rog, I swear to god, calm the fuck down.’ You said, trying to sound serious but not succeeding very well.

‘Or what?’ He asked with a smirk, looking at you.

‘Or I’ll cut your precious hair in your sleep tonight.’ You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

‘Ha.’ He had an amusing look in his eyes. ‘You are feisty today. I like it.’

‘Just tired.’ You replied and rubbed your forehead.

‘Oh, I can see that babygirl.’ He said, smiling sweetly. You wanted to hit his arm for agreeing you looked tired but he caught your wrist in the air, just like you did before with his.

‘Let’s not start a fight like you said hmm?’ He reminded you, looking at you intensely. You groaned but your heart was beating in your chest. If only he knew the effect he had on you.

He let you go and you shifted your body to find a comfortable position. Maybe it was indeed better you got some sleep. It would be a long trip and your eyelids were heavy.

You had been in the car for three hours so far, two of which consisted of arguing and fighting. It was like you entered a family. Everyone already seemed to know each other for ages and you felt strangely at home and completely accepted as well. It was a genuine group of people and they made you feel at ease.

You also had to agree with Roger that Freddie was pretty damn cool. He did indeed have wicked style and even though he seemed quiet at times, when he did say something it was always something interesting or smart or witty. He had something about him but you didn’t know just quite what it was. You also noticed he seemed very much drawn to Mary, which Brian didn’t really seem to mind. You wondered if they were even still together as you hadn’t seen them close in a long time.

When Roger had picked you up from uni that afternoon you’d quickly stopped by your apartment to pick up some clothes and a toothbrush, as he told you the plan was to drive all the way up to Scotland which would take up to one and a half days. You were going to visit a country-house of an uncle of Brian who used it as his holiday residence but only during the summer months.

Apparently there had been a forecast predicting the northern lights could be spotted up there in the north.

‘That’s why we are going to drive for two days?’ You had asked.

‘No.’ Roger replied. ‘I mean yes, Brian loves that shit, but it’s also a wicked house with a fire place and great scotch.’

--------

You yawned and closed your eyes.

‘Can I have those chocolates, Rog?’ Freddie asked. ‘Mary wants some.’

‘Sure thing.’

You started to drift off, the sounds turning blurry and fading to the background. You were almost out when something briefly pulled you back to your consciousness.

‘Your girl is starting to fall asleep Rog.’ Brian noticed, looking in the rearview. Your girl. Had he actually said that? Did they see you as rogers girl? That made you happier then it probably should. You had to suppress a smile since you were pretending to be asleep and tried relaxing your face.

‘Yes she probably needs it, with all the exams.’ You could hear Roger say softly and you started to drift off again. You shifted a little so your head rested on his shoulder and he let it.

When you woke up it was dark outside. You slowly started to recognize voices but kept your eyes closed.

‘You aren’t even listening.’ You could hear Brian say.

Roger groaned. ‘Yes, God help me I am.’

‘Then what did I just say.’

‘You were saying that neutron stars, which are leftovers from the deaths of massive stars in supernova explosions, are so dense that just a bowlul of neutron star material has more mass than the moon.’

‘Ha I finally got through to you! You see, astrophysics is hella interesting huh?’ Brian said, clearly surprised but equally impressed.

‘Nah I’m just bored.’ Roger replied while yawning loudly.

‘Wait, don’t fall asleep just yet! You know what’s even more fascinating?’

Roger sighed, not even trying to hide his disinterest. ‘No. Please do enlighten me Bri.’

‘Planet Saturn would float on water.’ Brian said. ‘Float on water! I mean, isn’t that just beyond? It’s actually the only planet in our solar system that would.’

‘Okay that’s…. that is actually pretty wicked Bri.’ Roger conceded, a trace of genuine excitement in his tired voice. Maybe he wanted to sleep a bit as well.

‘What time is it?’ You asked, voice raspy from the sleep.

‘Ah she’s awake.’ Brian said and looked at the clock above the speedometer. ‘It’s 21;30’

‘Oh jeez. How far is it still?’ You asked.

‘Not too long left for today.’ Brian answered and gave you a smile through the rearview mirror. ‘The snowfall is starting to get very heavy anyway and we should get some rest.’

‘Are we sleeping in the van?’ Mary asked.

‘Unfortunately I’m afraid so.’

‘Oh darlin, we could have easily booked a hotel!’ Freddie complained, shaking his head.

‘Too expensive, Fred.’ Brian replied, giving him an apologetic smile.

You got out of your sleeping position and looked out of the window. The light from the front headlights caught the snowflakes in a soft glow and you saw Brian was right. The snow was starting to get more and more heavy.

Half an hour later you spotted something on the side of the road.

‘There was a sign just now. Did you see it Bri?’

‘No?’

‘Maybe it’s saying there’ll be a gas-station in a few miles.’ You uttered.

‘Okay I’ll keep my eyes open.’ Brian replied and bended forward to be closer to the window.

After five minutes indeed a gas station showed up and Brian took a left turn. He drove around the station and pulled up on the side.

‘Alright guys. Time to get some rest.’ He said and you noticed Roger was already gone, head fallen backwards and lips slightly parted. You smiled and put your head back on his shoulder.

‘Goodnight everybody.’

‘Goodnight darlings.’ Freddie said.

Brian turned the engine off. ‘Yes, sleep well people.’

And with that you drifted off again.

When you woke up you thought it was still dark out as there was almost no light coming in through the windows. You moved a little, body stiff from the cold and quickly realized the van was completely covered in snow. Brian, Mary and Freddie were up as well but Roger was still sound asleep, looking so peaceful your heart ached a little.

‘Ah for fucks sake.’ You heard Brian curse from under his breath and realized he was trying to start the engine without having much success.

‘It’s not working, is it.’ Freddie stated.

‘No it’s not Fred.’ Brian replied and you couldn’t help but notice the tiny trace of annoyance in Brian’s voice. He seemed worried.

‘We need to clear the snow around it first.’ Mary said. ‘We should go outside.’

‘Yeah you’re right.’ Brian agreed and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. ‘Let’s go outside everybody! Y/N can you wake up that sleepyhead, we need him.’ You nodded and turned to Roger.

‘Rog?’ You shook his shoulder. ‘Rog.’ He groaned something you couldn’t understand. ‘Ey Taylor, we need you.’ You spoke, raising your voice. He still kept his eyes closed but started to gain consciousness so in a whim you took your icy-cold hands and slid them in the collar of his jacket, resting them against the warm skin of his neck. He shrieked and dived away from you and your cold hands.

‘What the fuck?’ He cried out, eyes big and confused as to how you could be so cruel. ‘Do you want me dead, woman?’

‘No but we need to clear the snow around the van or we will die up here actually.’ You plainly stated.

Roger looked around, still disorientated from just waking up.

‘What happened?’

‘Heavy snowfall. We’re completely covered up. Now let’s go.’

You grabbed the door handle and tried to open it. You pulled and pushed but it was completely stuck. You wondered how the others succeeded in opening theirs as the door wouldn’t move in the lightest bit.

You wanted to try a different door when you suddenly felt Roger leaning into you, using his weight to help you open it, his body pressed up against yours.

You could feel his breath on your cheek when he spoke. ‘One, two, three.’ He counted and on three you both crashed your weight into the door, finally causing it to open. You landed in the knee-deep snow and had to blink a few times, trying to get your eyes used to the impossible brightness of the outdoors. The whole world was white and unrecognizable. The gas station was clearly closed and you wondered if had ever been open, as it looked completely deserted.

Freddie, Mary and Brian were already grabbing arms full of snow from around the van and throwing it elsewhere. Freddie seemed in an awfully good mood compared to the others and was humming some kind of melody you didn’t recognize. You noticed none of them were wearing gloves.

Roger and you both joined them and started diving into the thick snow, a shiver running down your spine from the cold against your skin.

After half an hour of intensive work the van was cleared of enough snow to be able to move, would the engine ever start working again.

‘You need to turn the start key and hold it for ten seconds while pushing gently on the gas paddle.’ Roger instructed Brian when you were back in the van, sitting next to him. ‘Why couldn’t I drive again?’

‘Because it’s not your van, and you don’t know the way to the cabin.’ Brian explained, following Rogers instructions and pushing on the gas paddle.

After three tries they did indeed succeed to get it started again and you sighed relieved. You didn’t bring any food with you besides some oranges, candy and crushed sandwiches so you would have died either of the cold or starvation.

Brian started driving slowly towards the road and you noticed there were no cars, not a single one.

‘We have to get to the main road again.’ He said, turning left. ‘They probably cleared most of the snow there.’

‘How far is it to the cabin?’ You asked.

‘Just over two hundred miles, but it might take long considering the snow.’

Roger chuckled. ‘We are going to get so sick of each other, god help us.’ He spoke dramatically, then turned around in his seat.

‘Especially of you, love.’ He added, teasingly touching your cheek with his cold hands to get back at you for earlier, but it was a very weak and soft come-back.

‘Ugh, don’t get me started.’ You replied with a smirk.

This boy was going to be the end of you.

Previous part, next part

Taglist; @fics-for-my-heart, @midnightloversville, @killerqueenbucky, @fallinginlovewithwhereyouare, @about-aphrodite, @juliet-taylor, @roger-taylor-owns-my-wigg, @rogerrrinaaa, @mercuriangel, @daarkdreamy , @fortuneboldlyfavors, @int0-you, @fanficsupporter, @bulsaratheopera, @sleeping-bobcat, @bensroger, @katexxr, @whitequeenwalks, @rogahtaylahthedrumah, @reheadyfreheady, @roger-taylor-stole-my-heart, @imsusx, @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess, @fat-bottomed-girlx, @hollyskinnerxx, @blissfully-queen

#bohemian rhapsody imagine #queen imagine #Bohemian rhapsody fanfic #freddie mercury imagine #borap boys imagine #roger taylor imagine #brian may imagine #ben hardy imagine #roger taylor x reader #borap boys x reader #freddie mercury x reader #ben hardy x reader

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hellolittleogre · 5 years

Text

Billy x Goody College AU

The continued adventures of College AU Goody and Billy. This time with the full skinny on that infamous production of Hamlet.

And because Billy is utterly fucked anyway, and had never had that good self preservation skills, he ends up in the kitchen with Josh, Vasquez, a bottle of tequila and a whole host of bad decisions.

He felt so shell shocked it took a while before he even noticed the alcohol and by then he was practically asleep in a bathtub with Vasquez next to him very earnestly telling him that his hair was pretty. And like? Billy knows his hair is pretty? He also thinks his hair is very pretty, and Vasquez is kind of pretty too, and the way that his t-shirt fits snug around his bicep is very enticing and his eyes are a sort of melting brown which are different from Goody’s eyes, which Billy is resolutely not thinking about, and suddenly Vas’s face is kind of close and coming closer and their noses are kind of brushing, Va’s breath brushing wet and alcohol-y over his cheek and then Sam opens the door to the bathroom.

There is a long moment where he just stares at them, Vasquez sitting on the floor clutching a bottle and Billy lying in the tub, faces way too close, and then Vasquez breaks out in a brilliant grin.

“Sam! Come in here, we're talking about Billy’s hair. ‘S very pretty. Yours also very pretty.”

Billy thinks moodily that he doesn't find Sam’s hair very pretty at all.

“Gentlemen,” Sam says, “any chance of using the facilities for their intended purpose?”

Billy and Vas go back to staring at each other because none of that made any sense and then Billy’s brain bursts into action. Its brilliant that way.

“Pee! He needs to pee!” he exclaims, delighted with having figured it out. “Only he can't because I'm in the tub!” He feels very proud of himself.

“Goody!” Sam hollers down the corridor, “I've found your roommate, I think you’d better come fish him out.”

And no no no, Sam can't be calling Goody, Billy does not want to see Goody at all right now, no thank you, but here he comes and Billy can only look at his socked feet too afraid that if he looks up everything he’s just realized will be visible on his face.

They go back to the dorm with Billy escorted between Sam and Goody, feeling very much like a kid being taken home from a birthday party in disgrace. And isn’t that just perfect, not only does Goody have a tall, hot, manly boyfriend who fills out his shirts properly and has a deep voice and probably drives with his hands at 10 and 2 like a dad, but he also literally had to walk Billy home like he’s a child.

However it’s impossible to dislike Sam, he has a warm laugh and Billy can just tell, an even warmer heart, and since he, unlike Goody, is not completely useless there is coffee and painkillers for Billy the moment he wakes up, even if it wrenches his heart to see Sam peel out of Goody’s bed to get them (of course they still haven’t fixed the air mattress, instead sleeping squashed up like two incredibly handsome sardines. Billy is not jealous).

Sam is also an inexhaustible treasure trove for outrageous shit on Goody.

“Did you tell him about Hamlet?” he yells to Goodnight, who’s in their little kitchenette scrambling eggs, and in spite of the painkillers it makes Billy wince.

“Of course not!” Goody yells back. “And neither will you!”

Sam just smiles at Billy and rolls the chair closer.

“Let me tell you aaaaalllll about Hamlet,” he says, slinging an arm conspiratorially around Billy’s shoulder.

“Will you please not?” Goody says, sounding incredibly pained.

Turns out that Goodnight and Sam were together in a high school production Hamlet, and if Goodnight can be a pretentious twat now, with his French Nouvelle Vague films and spontaneous quotations of David Foster Wallace and Gertrude Stein, apparently his teenage self had been much, much worse.

“Goody here really, really wanted to be a serious actor.” Sam says. “He’d read all about the “Stanislavski system” was all the time getting into fights with Mrs Henson about “the art of experiencing” and the inner psycho-drama of Hamlet.”

“You’re only jealous because I got the role and you had to be second fiddle Horatio,” Goody yells from the kitchen, rattling the pans.

“Only because you shamelessly, shamelessly I say, used your audition to roll all over the stage pretending to die until your shirt came undone and inflamed Lydia Krukowski with unholy lust.” Sam yells right back, Billy really wants to know more but he also wants them to talk at a more reasonable volume. “She was Ophelia,” Sam adds in an aside to Billy, who feels a twinge of sympathy. He knows all about being inflamed with unholy lust for Goodnight.

“At least I started with audition with my clothes on! You came to yours with your shirt undone to the navel, you hussy. And let me remind you, it was not my pants that Lydia Krukowski wanted to get into.”

“Whenever somebody goofed off he’d get so upset smoke would come out of his ears!” Sam continues, gesticulating. “So the props department, for unknown reason, made this huge fish prop and it became a running joke to throw it on stage during rehearsals to make the actors crack up, and he -” Sam waved his hand towards the door. “ - did not crack up. Not once! Sense of humor surgically removed! So the props guys, who made the fish, got really cheesed off, everyone else had laughed, so for the final performance they decided to get him back and wham! In the middle of the famous soliloquy they threw the fish on stage!”

Billy snorted and Sam waved an indignant arm. “Only Montgomery Cliff here didn’t as much as twitch, he caught the fish like it was a baby,” Sam made a cradle with his arms against his chest,. “And tossed it right back!”

Sam broke out in a big laugh and Billy couldn’t help it, but laughed too.

“Nobody heard a word of the rest of it.” Goody says, having emerged from the kitchen while Sam was talking, leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. “We had to halt the production for 20 minutes because the audience couldn’t stop laughing.” Billy can tell he’s trying very hard to sound displeased but there is a small smile was pulling the corner of his mouth.

“Nobody wrote a word in his yearbook, they all just drew fishes,” Sam chortles, wiping tears from his eyes and Goody smiles ruefully and fixes Billy with his blue- grey eyes.

“No, I’m not Prince Hamlet,” he says softly. “Nor was meant to be, am an attendant lord, one that will do, To swell a progress, start a scene or two,” his voice melting in Billy’s ears like dark honey, the sweet Louisiana drawl stretching the syllables and pulling in him helplessly. “Advise the prince, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use. Politic, cautious and meticulous, Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous. Almost, at times, the Fool.”

Goody’s voice dies away and Billy feels like he can’t breathe, unable to look away from Goody’s face, it feels like something huge and massive is caught in his chest because how can everybody not love Goody when Billy right now, in this moment, would give an arm and a leg for the privilege of pulling his worn cotton t-shirt off with his teeth?

And then Sam breaks the moment by slapping Goody hard on his bony hip.

“You incorrigible old ham!” he says and then turns to Billy with a positively wicked grin.

“Do you want to see the pictures?”

He is sort of best friends with Sam after that, the short grainy footage of Goody clutching a huge papier maché trout like its his baby making Billy laugh so hard he falls out of his chair.

#Billy x goodnight college AU #mag7 #notquite!fic #the continued adventures #Goody quotes the love song of j alfred prufrock #I have on good authority that gertrude stein is completely unreadable #and anybody who does read it only does it for cred #idiots in love

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gotpropane-questionmark · 5 years

Text

Ok so this is my summer-christmas-gift for @irradiatedsnakes !

When Drake Mallard starts developing romantic feelings for his best friend Launchpad, he seeks for advices to the McDuck family...

Little disclaimer ; I’d like to precise that English isn’t my first language, so please be indulgent towards this piece of writing. But it didn’t take away any of the fun and love I had while writing it. It was a really great experience and I hope you’ll like it. :)

(This takes place a month after the events of ‘The Duck Night Returns’)

Ever since they first met, Drake started developing more and more feelings for Launchpad. He couldn’t exactly explain why and how but he knew that there was something special about him.

He wanted to ask him out for about a week now, but was way too nervous to do so. It felt like an impossible thing to do. But it also felt like something he had to do.

It preoccupied his mind all the time, and even Gosalyn was getting a bit worried. His mind was constantly somewhere else and he was a bit distant.

“Dad, what’s the matter ?” She asked tenderly.

“Dad”, the sound of that word resonated in him. Even after a year since he adopted her, the word ‘dad’ still makes him emotional.

“Oh nothing Gos, it’s just... grown up stuff” he said after a little hesitation.

He didn’t felt like it was the right time to tell her. How could he ? How could he tell his daughter that he’s in love with his best friend, that he can’t stop thinking about him, that he constantly feel the need to be close to him and that he cannot imagine a future without him ? No, he couldn’t.

Still in his head, he suddenly looked at the time on his Darkwing Duck themed watch. The gold and purple one. The 1995 collector model he got for Christmas when he was about Gosalyn’s age, and realized it was nearly 11pm. He quickly came back to reality and said: “Gos, are you trying to pull a one nighter again ? Come on, go to bed...”

“Ok Dad...” she said, disappointed because her plan didn’t worked.

He followed his daughter to her room and wished her goodnight. He also told her “I love you” approximately 7 times. He deeply cared about her.

When he went to bed, he had his last Launchpad thought of the day, but this time, he was even more decided to ask him out. He wanted to take him somewhere, for a date. Where they could bond, he could tell him about his feelings and could ask him on more dates.

The problem was, he didn’t know where to take him out. In fact, they knew each other for about a month and he still didn’t know much about Launchpad. His personal life was sort of... mysterious. He didn’t know much about it. besides the fact that he once ate 3 burritos in one sitting. And that he was really close to this ‘McDuck family’...

Then he thought: ‘‘What if I go to the McDuck’s tomorrow ? I can ask them stuff about Launchpad ! I’m sure they know him better than me.’’

The next day, he was even more sure of his plan. He waited for Gosalyn to go see her best friend Honker. He didn’t have to worry, he knew that as long as they were together, nothing could happen to them.

He then took the bus, to Duckburg. While he was in, he tried to think of ways to ask his best friend out and questions to the McDuck family without raising any hints of his romantic feelings for Launchpad. It’s not that he didn’t want to share the information, he just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Plus he’ll find a way to tell them later. He already had something big to do today.

When he arrived to Duckburg, he was a still a bit struck, even since the last time he was there. This big city was sure a big change from the calm suburb where he lived. He used to live in St Canard but when he adopted Gosalyn he thought that a little house near Duckburg was a safer place to raise a child.

He then asked someone about the location of McDuck Manor and they pointed out in direction of a huge bin, with a giant dollar sign on it and said ‘’the manor’s just behind that’’

A bit confused, he went into that direction. When he finally arrived, he found himself in front of a grid. He saw an intercom system and pressed the little button on it. The voice of an old woman answered, she had a British accent. ‘’Scrooge McDuck’s manor, who’s speaking ?’’

‘’Hum, Drake, Drake Mallard, I’m a friend of Launchpad’’

The grid opened.

When he arrived, he was pushed away by four kids playing around. It looked pretty dangerous. When they finally realized there was a stranger in the room they stopped what they were doing and looked at him. The situation was a bit awkward.

Dewey was the first one to break the silence, he shouted “Hey I recognize you ! You’re the guy in the costume who fought with Launchpad the guy with the other costume !”

Drake was confused but said “Hum, yes. Yes I am.”

‘’You see I’m a... friend of Launchpad. You kids seem to know him. Since I’m his friend, I wanted to... know him better.’’

Drake was wisely choosing his words, he didn’t wanted the raise any suspicions.

“Sooo what kind of food does he like ? What’s his favorite movie ? What about his musical tastes ? Has he ever mentioned things about his dating life ?

“Oooookay, it’s getting weird now...” said Louie while taking a few steps back.

Webby interrupted him :“If you want to know all these things, why don’t you ask him directly ? He’s in the garage ! Launchpad ! There’s someone who came to see you !” She started calling his name.

“I don’t think it’s gonna be- well I don’t know about this- how did you- is he really here ? I-I should just go- I...”

“Woah cool I got some company !”

At the moment Drake heard Launchpad’s voice his heart started pounding, and the little confidence he had disappeared immediately. He just wanted to get out of here.

“Hey Drake !” Nice to see you bud ! Launchpad said. “You wanted to see me ?”

“Umm, yes !” Drake decided to take all of his courage. It was too late to back down. “Yes, and I wanted to ask you... something.”

He realized everybody in the room was staring at him.

“Can we go somewhere private ?”

They were alone, in Launchpad’s room. Well more of Scrooge’s old garage. The place was small but personal. It felt like Launchpad.

“You wanted to ask me something ?” He said.

Drake took a deep breath and said: “Yes. I wanted to... see, we’ve know each other for a while- well a month but you know- and since then I started feeling closer and closer to you...”

“Hey me too !” Launchpad answered cheerfully.

“Y-you too !?” Drake was surprised.

The kids were bundled up to the door, trying to hear everything.

“Anyway, this last month has been really good actually and I think you’re the reason why...”

“Ah gee ! That’s nice ! Love you too pal !” He gave him a little punch on the shoulder

“Love-love, you love me ?”

“Yes I do ! You mean a lot to me Drake, and not only because of the whole Darkwing Duck thing, I love you.”

There was a short pause before Launchpad broke the silence and said “Wanna go on a date ?”

On the other side of the door, Huey, who managed to hear this part of the conversation said “Guys, I think LP just asked him out on a date”

“A DATE ?! How romantic !” Webby exclaimed.

As the kids started getting excited for them, they couldn’t help but move around and as they did the door which led to the garage opened and they all fell onto the ground.

Drake and Launchpad turned around and stared at the kids.

Dewey started chanting “Date ! Date ! Date ! Date !” And everyone followed. Even Launchpad.

When they all stopped chanting, Launchpad turned around to Drake, but he disappeared.

He left out a post it note on the ground that said “Can’t wait to see you Friday. Let’s ! Eat ! Burritos !”

Hey ! I guess my work here is done... Just kidding. Anyway I had so much fun doing this fic, it’s an exercise I really like to do and it certainly won’t be my last one !

Um I hope @irradiatedsnakes that you’ll like it ! And happy summer Christmas ! @ducktalessummersanta2019

#ducktalessummersanta #ducktales summer santa #drakepad fic

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notimetoblog · 6 years

Text

Not Happening (Pt.5)

Summary: An online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand.

A/N: I am so excited about this chapter! It was so hard to wait until today to actually share it with you guys! I really do hope you guys enjoy it. Its a longer chapter.. longest one I’ve written!!! Thanks so much for reading, as always. You guys are the best!!!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / MY STORIES

“I think whosyourmate.com is onto something. Don’t you?”

This could not be happening.

Keeping up with the thoughts crossing your mind was impossible. You had not only discovered that a picture of you had been hung at a photo gallery, but you had also discovered that the photographer had been Bucky Barnes, a man you had surprisingly tolerated throughout the night. To make matters worse, he was aware of the match Craig and his stupid algorithm had mocked you with. Not only aware, though, he was agreeing with it?

You forced your eyes to peel away from the label hanging beside the photograph, willing them to look at Bucky who remained silent after his sudden declaration.

His face was almost smug, as if enjoying the fact that he had caught you off guard. You felt your gaze shift from confusion to anger. Was this just another of his ‘funny’ pranks?

“You knew,” you found yourself saying. You didn’t speak above a whisper, though, still dealing with the attention the people around you were giving as they realized you were the one in the picture.

“Course I knew,” Bucky whispered back, eyes also scanning the room mentally noting the people who were all failing miserably in their attempts to pretend not to be staring. “The app lets you know when it finds you a match.”

“You knew,” you repeated with a much harsher tone.

You felt as the blood rushed to your face, heating it up in the process. You weren’t sure if it was due to the sudden anger you were feeling or because of the sudden need to run and hide from all the attention. The space you were in, feeling more and more constricting. Between the photograph behind you, the people surrounding you, and Bucky standing in front of you, it was all too much.

“Yes,” Bucky confirmed yet again. “I knew.”

“Well, I’m glad you had fun tonight Bucky,” you snapped, “I’m glad I was able to provide you with a bit of entertainment. Now if you excuse me, I have to leave since I’m done being laughed at.”

You stepped around Bucky, rushing to get out of the gallery yet trying your best to not attract even more attention to yourself. Seemed like everybody in the gallery knew about your picture before you. As you made your way out of the spiral of photographs you caught a glimpse of Nat, Wanda, and Steve having a drink. The anger flaring up once more as you realized they had not even thought of giving you a heads-up. Nat and Wanda weren’t exactly some of your favorite people at the moment thanks to their constant nagging about the whole Bucky-match thing. Steve, though, you expected more from. You had at least expected a subtle heads-up.

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard Bucky call out from behind you.

You were nearing the coatrack by the entrance and his voice had caught the attention of your group of so-called friends, who all turned to observe what was occurring between you and Bucky.

“Come on, don’t leave like this,” Bucky said as he stepped beside you. You rummaged through the coats hanging, unable to find your own.

“I’ll do whatever I want, Barnes,” you replied, somehow still not seeing your coat. There weren’t even that many on the rack, your anger just caused all of them to look the same.

“Its right here,” he said as he extended his arm towards you, his hand holding your coat.

You yanked it from his hands, quickly throwing it on. Nat and Wanda took this as their cue to approach you, seemingly ready to leave with you. Steve also approached you and Bucky, with a slower pace, though, falling behind the girls.

“Listen, I wasn’t laughing at you, so you can’t use that as an excuse to leave because it isn’t true.”

Hearing this, the approaching trio, slowly turned towards the direction they had come from, quickly concluding this was a conversation for just you and Bucky.

“You weren’t laughing?” you asked, eyes rolling as you scoffed. “Just randomly decided to throw up a picture of me at a gallery of your secret photographs, huh? And all of this after you embarrassed me as soon as I got here and threw in the punchline you were probably holding back all night about the match.”

You went to step around him again, but he took a step to the side essentially blocking your path out of this place.

“That wasn’t a punchline and no, that picture of you wasn’t random. And I’m sorry about that prank, it was stupid and immature.”

You just stared at him. How far was he willing to take this? You were already embarrassed he knew about the match and that everybody now seemed to know your picture was hanging in this gallery.

“You’re really something Bucky,” you said, not an ounce of anger leaving your tone of voice.

“Remember what I said when we started talking about the pictures?” he asked as he blocked your path again. “I said you’d have to listen a little for this to work.”

“Yeah, well I think I’ve listened enough,” you replied.

“You haven’t. You’re leaving as soon as the real conversation is beginning.”

“Well you chose not to say anything about what you knew all night. And for what purpose? To have fun!”

“You knew about the match too, sweetheart, and didn’t say a word either,” he retorted. “So, this isn’t all on me. And I already told you this wasn’t a joke or some elaborate prank.”

“I don’t care,” you said, frustration growing as he wouldn’t let you leave causing your argument to not be as strong as you’d hope.

“If you want to leave, fine leave, but I’m taking you home.”

“Not happening,” you simply said, unable to picture what a ride home with Bucky would look like.

“Yes, it is,” he replied confidently. “You couldn’t even find your coat among 5 other coats, not a chance you’ll find your place.”

You scoffed not understanding how one person could be so frustrating, annoying, and a pain. Maybe you should create a trophy for him that let him know just how much of a bother he was. You could have it engraved, “TO THE BIGGEST ASS”.

“Excuse me?” Bucky suddenly yelled out for all his guests to hear.

Your mouth dropped as he called everybody’s attention to where you and he stood. You flashed your eyes to Nat and Wanda who shared a similar expression.

“I’d like to thank everyone of you for coming out tonight. I hope you all enjoyed the images. I have to leave now, but please enjoy the rest of the night. Place is ours for a bit,” he added with a smile. The guests clapped and those holding glasses raised them, most singing their praises to Bucky. Turning to you he quietly said, “Let’s go.”

“I’m not leaving,” you quickly responded.

“Well darling I already said goodnight so now we kind of have to leave,” he said, and you swore you could slap him.

“I’m not leaving with you,” you amended.

“Ok, then I’ll just announce I’m staying, give me a sec—”

“No!” you said, louder than you had intended. “No more stupid announcements.”

“Just let me take the time it takes to get to your place to explain. I promise I won’t take any longer. You can say whatever you want after that. But I can’t let you go like this. Not after what I’ve learned tonight.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that last part. He had learned something?

You looked over to Nat and Wanda who were staring back trying to figure out whether you needed them or not.

Your mind replayed the words Wanda had uttered before you went on the ‘tour’ with Bucky.

“Try to figure out what the system saw between both of you. Maybe you learn something new.”

Could you really trust this guy? He had been nothing but an ass the entire time you had known him, yet you had noticed he had kept that side of him hidden tonight. But tonight, had only been a few hours, surely that couldn’t make up for the years you had known him for.

And yet now he stood in front of you asking for a few more minutes. Not days, or weeks, or months. Just minutes. An amount of time you would usually think tolerable.

“If you really think I won’t change your mind, then why are you hesitating?” he asked. His words echoing the ones Nat had spoken to you a few hours ago. “You have to get home anyway so might as well prove me wrong while you’re at it.”

The challenge in his voice spurred something within you. He was right. You were confident in what you had seen. Knew that this was nothing more than a game to him, so if you could get the last laugh then you should take that opportunity.

“Fine,” you said.

The smile he gave was unlike any other smile he had flashed your way. There was no undertone of mischief within it.

You gazed once more towards Nat and Wanda who were still looking back at you. They took a few steps toward you before you began walking their way. Quickly explaining what was happening and letting them know you were ok, you said your goodbyes.

Once outside the gallery, Rick wished you both a goodnight, a surprised look on his face as he saw you walking beside Bucky.

“My bike is in the back,” Bucky leaned in to say and you felt your stomach drop. There was no way in hell you would be getting on a motorcycle with him. You could barely trust him while he stood next to you, that little trust would evaporate as soon as he got on that death-trap. You began to shake your head furiously when you heard him chuckle. “Kidding, I parked my car over on that street,” he said pointing you in the direction of his car.

You sighed deeply, not understanding how you had actually accepted to have him drive you home.

“So much for not being a jerk,” you said.

“It doesn’t hurt to laugh a little, you know,” he replied.

“I laugh at funny things. Usually ones that are not at my expense,” you responded seriously, both of you falling into step on your way to his car.

He sighed, “Ok, sorry. But laughing at yourself every once in a while, can be therapeutic. Can’t take yourself too seriously.”

“I laugh at myself all the time, Barnes.”

“Had me fooled.”

“Well you were absolutely right,” you began sarcastically. “I’m having a wonderful time proving you wrong.”

“Hey, don’t claim victory too soon. This is just beginning. Tell you what. Let’s ditch my car and instead walk to your place.”

“You mean extend the time I have to spend with you?” you scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Scared?”

You rolled your eyes. He was actually a child.

“Please, scared of what?”

“Falling in love with me,” he said with a smirk.

You threw your head back as you laughed, careful not to trip over anything as you kept walking. This man was the bane of your existence. He was not only a complete and total jerk, but also an egomaniac. Again, you cursed Craig’s name. No way he could be sitting at home happily with an amazing wife when his algorithm matched people like you and Bucky.

“Nice to hear you laugh for a change,” he chuckled. “Thought maybe you couldn’t.”

“The faster we get this over with, the better,” you said choosing to not even acknowledge his reply.

“Oh, come on!” he said. “We got a soulmate-level match. You’re not curious to figure out why? I mean I’m already putting together my own theories. Why are you so stubborn? 20 more minutes won’t kill you.”

“That site is a sham,” you replied. “That’s the only theory that’s accepted so there’s no need to waste more time.”

“You can be so infuriating, you know that?”

“Ditto.”

“I mean tonight wasn’t terrible. You can’t say you weren’t having a good time. Up until you freaked out on me, we were actually getting along. Doesn’t that say anything to you?”

“What exactly is it supposed to say?” you asked as you glanced around the street, noting the people casually walking by you. “Am I supposed to applaud you for being civil for once?”

“See, there you go again. Just infuriating. What tonight said to me was that maybe that site saw something we hadn’t even thought about.”

You looked to him. Why did everybody think this? How could anybody believe an algorithm could be wise enough to see something hidden behind layers of annoyance and hate.

“Wanna know why your picture was hanging in the gallery tonight?” he interrupted your thoughts. You weighed his question, curiosity fighting its way to the top against your annoyance. You nodded, remembering you still had so many other questions. “I had another image up originally. A picture of that one corner in Grand Central Station where you can whisper at one end and a person on the other end can hear you crystal clear. I got a couple who was hanging out there to pose. The colors photographed incredibly well, and I was happy with the way the picture turned out. I had set up the whole thing. Yes, I set it up, even if you refuse to give me the credit,” he said causing you chuckle much to your surprise, “The whole thing was ready, so I was on my way to invite you guys when I saw you at the coffee place with the girls. Figured I could invite you there.”

“You didn’t invite me,” you replied, annoyance quickly flooding your senses again. “You invited Nat and Wanda.”

“I invited you,” he taunted. “You just got a special kind of invitation. One that stayed true to our style,” he winked.

Suddenly you wondered why he had decided to invite you the day of the gallery and hide the fact that he was the photographer. You were more than sure he must’ve worked on it for weeks, so why not share it with the cocky attitude he was infamous for?

“Why’d you wait till today to invite us and tell us it was your gallery?” you voiced your question.

“It’s fucking terrifying to put yourself out there like that. Those pictures all have a bit of me. Had to work myself up to tell you guys.”

“Steve knew?”

“Of course, he did,” he said as he tied to move a few of the stubborn strands of hair out of his face. “Told Sam and Tony before they left. They promised to stop by the gallery once they come back from LA.”

You understood what he meant. It couldn’t be easy to put up a gallery of your work and invite your friends.

You had seen him around with his camera a couple of times. The thought of him being serious about photography never crossed your mind. Seriousness and Bucky Barnes weren’t things that you paired up often. He usually brought this camera along when the group hung out. The shuttering sounds of him taking a picture usually interrupting casual conversations among friends. Pictures of you had found their way on his camera, simply because you were part of the group of friends he spent his time with. Your next question sprung up.

“When did you take that picture of me?”

“A few months ago,” he replied, his gaze softening as he remembered, hands shyly hiding in the pockets of his jacket. “Saw you sitting there alone one time. I was heading over to Steve’s place and thought about maybe talking to you for a bit. It had been a while since we’d talked and I kind of missed teasing you,” he laughed. “So, I walked up behind you and stopped when I saw how peaceful you looked. Felt bad about disturbing you, because believe it or not I can be nice, so I just picked up my camera and took a picture. The light reflecting off the droplets of dew on the flowers was too good to pass up.”

“You just had a camera at the ready, you creep?”

With a laugh he answered, “Just for you, doll.”

You scrunched up your nose at his response. Noticing how his laugh wasn’t as annoying as it had been a few minutes ago, caused a strange feeling in your stomach. Crossing the street, you thought of your next question.

“So, why’d you switch out the original image with mine?”

“I got the notification from the app,” he admitted. “You almost cost me my phone, you know. I almost dropped it in the gutter when I saw your name. iPhone X almost gone because of you.”

“I almost broke Wanda’s laptop,” you joked, giving a soft laugh as you rememebered this morning.

“I laughed a bit,” you quirked your eyebrow knowing there was bound to be more to his reaction. “Ok, I laughed a lot. The fucking irony of it all, you know. Who would even think to pair us up?”

“Craig,” you muttered under your breath with disdain.

“Who?”

You shook your head, instead encouraging him to continue.

“Then I clicked on your profile. Saw your likes and the way you described yourself. Couldn’t find a lie, by the way,” he commented with a smirk.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you remembered Wanda had described you as ‘sexy and well read’. You quickly averted your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you’d suddenly become. You chose to let your eyes fixate on your shoes as you walked.

“Got to the part where you listed your favorite place in the world. I mean out of all the places on this entire planet, you chose to write in your community garden! Who does that? Couldn’t believe it when I read it, but then that image of you I had taken flashed in my mind. Suddenly I understood why you had answered the way you did.”

He had spent the day wondering, like you, why a soulmate-level match had been made between you and him. He had noticed your profile was minutes-old, so he assumed you were already aware of the match as you were still probably online. Once realizing you would most likely not address it, he did all he could to get your photograph printed and hung before the guests arrived, trying to get the topic out in the open.

“I admit it. I haven’t been the nicest to you, but that match wouldn’t leave me alone! Why? I mean how? Thought I would do one nice thing to see what would happen,” he smiled, “turns out you just assumed I was setting you up.”

“I still do,” you said, waiting to see his reaction. To your amusement his eyes went large, jaw tensing, as he processed what you had said. “Kidding,” you added before he got a chance to respond. “But you can’t believe we could be more than what we are now,” you said. “I mean sure, maybe our friendship can improve, but whosyourmate.com is still wrong.”

“Shit, that actually hurt,” he said as he put a hand over his chest.

You stopped at a red light, scanning his features for confirmation of his reaction being a joke. To your surprise you found what you thought to be genuine hurt. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Bucky couldn’t really believe there was something romantic between the two of you, right? The change from a red to a green glow illuminating his features caused you to turn around and continue walking as the traffic light had granted you permission to cross the intersection.

“Bucky,” you began quietly as you crossed the street. Afraid of saying the wrong thing. “You really do believe the match?”

“I — um— I mean,” he sighed grabbing your arm, stopping the both of you from continuing walking. You stopped in front of a closed coffee place, much to your misfortune. Had the place been open, maybe you could distract yourself a bit with the people inside. Now you were forced to look at Bucky. “I don’t know. But if it had been another guy, if you had gotten a soulmate-level match with somebody else, would you consider it?”

You thought about his question, remembering how you had at one point been excited to see who was out there. Ready to give it a try.

“I guess,” you admitted.

“You would’ve accepted a match with a complete and total stranger?”

“I mean, maybe. It’s what I signed up for, right? Meeting new people. Seeing who else was out there. Trying new things”

“Yes,” he said, voice becoming more confident as he continued. “But you got me instead. So why can’t you apply the same reasoning to me? Why can’t you see this as trying something new?”

Your stomach began doing what seemed to be somersaults. Why were his words affecting you so much? The only response his words would bring out of you were annoyed groans or a roll of your eyes.

“Why are you so accepting about it?” You chose to respond with a question, maybe buying you a few minutes to sort out what you were feeling.

“Because what if it’s right! I’ve been on that site for almost two years and you know how many soulmate-level matches I’ve gotten?” He continued as you shook your head. “Just one; you. And maybe it’s a sham, just a glitch, a coincidence, or whatever you choose to call it, but I can’t stop thinking about what if it’s right. What if you’ve been standing in front of me all this time and I did nothing about it because I chose to ignore a soulmate fucking level match. Because the sham system, as you’re calling it, somehow picked the one girl I already know and decided to match her with me. Because I saw how you were drawn to my photographs, the same ones I just told you all have a piece of me. Because as you were trying to leave I couldn’t even think about letting you go so I left the fucking opening of my gallery. Because I’ve been an asshole every time I’ve interacted with you, yet I laugh at every time you call me out on my bullshit. Because maybe I’ve been immature and have decided to mask something else with a jerk attitude without even knowing I’m doing it. I’m accepting it because I KNOW I wouldn’t be thinking so much about this match if it hadn’t been with you!”

You blinked a couple of times. His words ringing in your ear as you looked at him. The strands of hair framing his face, had multiplied even after his attempts to tame them. A look of determination on his face made his barely illuminated eyes somehow radiate in the darkness.

“Bucky,” you started again immediately stopping, unable to form any more words.

“I know I’ve been a jerk,” he interrupted. “I know I haven’t been the nicest. And tonight, I thought it would be best to start it off as I would normally greet you. A bit of teasing to not let you in on the fact that I knew. I didn’t want to scare you away before you even got to see the picture. And then you just gave me the perfect way to try it out. Basically, dropped the opportunity to spend the night with you and test this out, right onto my lap. I’m not asking you to marry me Y/N. Just help me out here and consider it. I can’t get it out of my head, doll. Can’t seem to shake the feeling I get when I think about getting that notification. What if it’s right?”

“What if it’s not?”

“Then it’s not. Then we move on, knowing that we did what we could. That we at least gave it a shot.”

“Gave us a shot?” You whispered, the thought still a bit uncomfortable. “I hated you a few hours ago.”

“I don’t think you hated me. You were annoyed with me, definitely, but you didn’t hate me. You came to the gallery, didn’t you? Chose to spend the night with me?”

“To shut up Nat and Wanda!” You said, surprised by how not totally accurate that felt. “They kept saying that I should figure out why we had matched.”

“Can I tell you what I learned today?”

You nodded shyly, nervous about what he was going to say.

“Your favorite place in the world is a tiny patch of flowers that everybody overlooks. A place that is probably only a favorite place to you because you see the beauty of it even when others can’t. Because you can sit on that bench and forget about everything. Didn’t even hear my camera when I took your picture. My entire collection of photographs was full of places often overlooked. Places that hold beauty most people ignore. We see things others don’t, doll. See places that are ignored and choose to spend time in them. Choose to make them our favorite places. I didn’t know that this morning. Didn’t know it until I clicked your profile on that site. I learned something new. Learned that I share something with you. Something that is special to both of us. I feel like there’s something here I hadn’t realized until I got that notification from that app. Maybe we are something we’ve overlooked. Maybe we are another patch of flowers we can both admire. Maybe we’re the something beautiful many, including us, have ignored.”

You stared at him unable to form a worthy response. He was making sense, much to your surprise. Why were you fighting this so viciously? What if you gave it a shot? What if he was right?

“Consider it?” He asked, eyes soft and hopeful.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady your heart and calm your mind. Trying to understand everything going on.

Timidly you nodded your head hoping you weren’t making a huge mistake. Hoping he wouldn’t laugh and call it all a prank. Hoping you were trusting the right person.

A warm smile spread on his lips. He got closer to you whispering, “Thank you.”

“Where’s your car?” You asked, suddenly realizing so much had happened, and you were still not at his car.

It was his turn to laugh. He closed his eyes and doubled over, peals of laughter springing from his lips.

“About 6 blocks behind us. We’re almost halfway to your place.”

That jerk!! He had tricked and distracted you into actually waking home with him!

“Needed to have this talk, doll,” he said with a smile, already knowing you would give him a hard time for not driving you home. “Couldn’t have it in a car.”

And although you knew you would usually be upset, you couldn’t help but smile with him. His smile wasn’t teasing, wasn’t spreading on his lips because he had done something bad, something to embarrass you. It was genuine, warm, and inviting. Thinking about it made you appreciate the way it caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle. Appreciate the way he was directing it your way. Finally letting you see how you might’ve actually been missing out on the beauty of it all this time. Letting you more confidently decide it was worth it to at least give it a shot.

PART 6

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Bucky Tags

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“Not Happening” Tags

@metalarmlover @starkxpotts @nephalem67 @boyzines @starfisharchives @crazybutconfidentaf @dyanna-corona @fangedmutant @talinalani @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency @wisestydia-15 @curlypeter @jayattemptstoruletheworld @justreadingthesefanfics @swtmckngbrd @deathbyarabbit @whogaveuspermission @thespottedwolf-blog @buckwhitewolf @bilesxbilinskixlahey @ireallyneedcoolusername @anelaokalanii @jamielea81 @gallifreyansass @lowkeysebby @other-people-are-great @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @liketotallynat @kenzieam @sonarsyndor @thisismyfriend-tree @justtolkienabout @khaleesilovesmarshmellows @kermitissexy @missinstantgratification

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky #modern!AU #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #stories by notimetoblog

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polyamorousmisanthrope · 5 years

Text

The Great Peanut Butter Controversy of the Second Grade Summer

Virginia rolled over in her bed, poised to jump out when she saw Anjali sleeping on a mat by the bookshelf.

Dr. Rao must have been paged to come in again, she thought and started moving as quietly as possible. The last time she woke Anjali too early, her best friend was grumpy all day and even refused to play in Beediebump.

Because she wanted to be quiet, she pulled out a blue sundress and slipped it on quickly. She decided that it would be okay to skip brushing her hair, too, and just clipped it in a barrette.

She moved slowly through the silent house. She peeked into her parents’ room. Her dad’s side of the bed was empty, and her mother’s head made a dark contrast to the white sheet. Stepping even more carefully, she passed her noisy brother’s silent room. He almost looked cute, clutching the Winnie the Pooh.

Happily, she lifted a kitchen chair carefully and moved it to the counter where Mom stored the bread. She felt like she was already grown up – getting the last of the bread to make her own breakfast of cheese melted on toast with a tart green apple. With even more care, as the stairs could be noisy, she went to the basement where they kept the good TV and called up a science program about rats and how people think. The rats had electrodes in their brains and the thought gave her a delightfully icky shiver.

The announcer had just started talking about different things that happened when the electrodes were placed in different parts of the rats’ brains when she heard noisy little feet overhead followed by the heavier sound of an adult running.

“Trey, don’t you dare climb up on the counter!” Virginia’s mother shouted. The sound of a chair falling in the kitchen without the large thump of a person falling told Virginia that her mother had caught her little brother before he’d gotten up to the cupboard where there was a package of Oreos.

Virginia winced. She knew she should have replaced the chair. She also wished her brother were stealthier. If he were, she could help herself to cookies and blame it on him. But if she snuck any, Mom would notice the cookie count had gone down and no-one would believe it was Trey.

She turned off the TV, came upstairs where her mother poured cereal for her little brother and Anjali. “Did you want some breakfast, Punkin’?”

“I already ate,” Virginia said.

“Did you leave your plate downstairs?” her mother asked.

Virginia made a face and went back to the family room to retrieve the plate. “Can we watch-“

“Nope,” Mom interrupted. “Outside. Behave yourselves and I’ll have a surprise at lunch.”

Virginia and Anjali caught each other’s eyes and then they both glared at Trey. Virginia said, “That means you can’t throw my Frisbee on the roof.”

“You can’t keep me out of Beediebump, either,” Trey said.

Virginia took a breath to reply, when Mom sighed. “Squabbling counts as not behaving. Trey, don’t lose your sister’s stuff. Virginia, he’s allowed in Beediebump, same as you. And Virginia, you and Anjali are not to get your brother spun up. Clear?”

“But what if he’s-“

“No instigating!” Mom said.

“What does instigate mean?” Anjali asked. Mom liked using big words. The kids were always free to ask for a definition.

“Being mean in sneaky ways so that someone loses their temper and retaliates. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen you both doing it. Now, outside, all three of you, before I sell you to a Renfaire.”

Virginia considered that she’d actually like to spend all of her time dressing up, but said nothing and led the way out into the back yard to Beediebump.

Beediebump was a small copse of trees at the back of their property, bordered by other people’s well-kept yards. The trees and undergrowth made natural little private spaces where Virginia could play as if she were in her own world. The name of the land derived from the sound of her sandal on the root as she swung in her swingset, making a beedie-bump! twanging noise.

“I have an idea,” Anjali said quietly as they went out to the swing set.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s run races with Trey around the house.”

Virginia made a face. She hated running. “Why?”

“No, listen. You run a race with him, but let him win by a little bit. Then I’ll run and beat him. Then you beat him. Then we both let him win. We keep doing that till he’s sick of it.”

“Why?” Virginia asked. “I wanted to finish putting stones around the town square in Beedie Bump.”

Anjali rolled her eyes, “Because he’ll get tired and won’t bug us.”

“Okay,” Virginia agreed.

It worked, but Virginia wasn’t so sure it was worth the price. By lunchtime she was yawning and her stomach growled. But Mom was happy with all of them.

“I loved the way you were playing so nicely with Trey today,” she said, running her hand over Virginia’s head. “Want lunch on the patio or inside?”

“Inside. It’s hot.”

Mom gestured the children inside and handed plates around the kitchen table, looking pleased.

Virginia made a face. “What’s this?”

“I learned how to make bread!” Mom said cheerfully. “It’s just a peanut butter sandwich. Taste it!”

Virginia took a bite. The bread felt all wrong on her teeth and tongue and tasted strange to her. What was worse, the peanut butter had a grainy texture and wasn’t sweet enough. She put the sandwich down and made a face. Looking to her brother, she noticed the same dubious expression.

Emboldened by her hope of solidarity, Virginia burst out, “I don’t like it.”

“Virginia, that’s good homemade bread!” Mom protested.

“I like store bread better. And what’s wrong with the peanut butter?”

“Well, I made that, too,” Mom answered with a note of disappointment in her voice. “The store-bought kind has too much sugar.”

That would explain why this awful stuff isn’t sweet enough.

Mom sighed, “I thought it would be a nice surprise, but-“

“I like it,” Trey said and took a big bite.

Virginia, indignant at her brother’s betrayal, burst out. “Well, this is awful and I want the store bought kind!”

Mom got That Look and said nothing for a minute. Virginia gulped but scowled directly at her. “I won’t eat it.”

“Well, I guess you’re going to have to buy your own bread and peanut butter then,” Mom said quietly.

The three children winced. When Mom got all firm and quiet, the house could be grim for the rest of the day. Virginia, feeling like there was nothing left to lose, burst out, “Mom, that’s silly! I don’t have any money.”

“You can earn it,” Mom said with a grin both tight and harsh. “I’ll even pay you for chores. But you’re going to have to eat that sandwich if you want a deal.”

“Okay,” Virginia said with defiant bravado.

Mom smiled, rooted in a drawer and pulled out a grocery bag. “I’ll pay you a dollar every time you fill one of these bags with sweet gum balls.”

Sweet gum balls were the bane of the household. Dropped from the various sweet gum trees around the yard, the lawn mower chewed them up and scattered them across the yard so it was ugly (which bothered Mom) and you couldn’t go barefoot because it would hurt your foot (which bothered everybody).

Virginia hated picking up the prickly things. You spent forever bent over staring at the dry grass of summer trying to find the things. Sometimes you had to kind of dig them out of the dirt because someone had stepped on them.

The only good thing about them was that if you got enough bags together, Dad would use them in the barbecue pit to make hamburgers, which made everyone happy, as Mom and Dad refused to buy charcoal.

The work was boring, and she couldn’t figure out a way to make it go in any sort of logical system. She tried to get Anjali and Trey to help, but they both refused unless paid, so Virginia saw little point in that. There was no-one to talk to, nothing to read and nothing to think about but how much her back ached from leaning over and how much she hated that weird bread and peanut butter her mother made.

But she picked up three paper grocery bags full that day.

After dinner that night Dad commented with a sigh, “I guess I better go pick up sweet gum balls before I mow the lawn.”

“Virginia did that this afternoon,” Mom commented, watching Dad put his dinner plate in the dishwasher.

“What in the world did she do that you made her do that?” Dad asked.

“I didn’t make her. It was a business transaction,” Mom said. “She didn’t want to eat homemade bread and peanut butter. I told her if she didn’t want to eat what I made, she could buy her own.”

“Good move, Boo,” Dad said quietly and got that kissy look on his face. Virginia left the kitchen.

After her bath that night, Virginia went into the living room where mom sat with her laptop frowning at the screen. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m kinda stumped on what I’m going to write for my blog,” Mom said. “Can I talk about what happened today and about our agreement?”

Mom always asked if she could put personal stuff on her blog.

“I don’t want you to,” Virginia said. “Why do you have to write that, anyway?”

“It’s my job, kiddo. You don’t really want to go to daycare or something, do you?”

“I thought keeping Anjali was your job,” Virginia said.

Mom rubbed her eyes and sighed, “I have a lot of jobs, Punkin’. Where’s Daddy?”

“Getting Trey into his pajamas,” Virginia said. “Can I have a flashlight tonight?”

“If you want to, but I don’t advise reading more than a chapter if you’re going to be working tomorrow,” Mom commented. “Are you?”

“I don’t have enough for a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter yet, do I?”

“Nope, not yet.”

“Then yes. What can I do?”

“Lemme think about it, honey,” Mom said and kissed her.

Virginia got the flashlight out of the drawer in the sideboard, and went to her room. Dad was just kissing all of Trey’s stuffed animals good night and pulling up the blanket. “I’ll be in to kiss you goodnight in a sec, doll baby.”

With a satisfyingly big chapter book in her hand, Virginia climbed into bed. Daddy came in and pulled a chair to the bedside, spinning it around and sitting on it backwards, arms folded across the chair back. “You need to be nicer to your mother, Miss Virginia.”

“I thought you said I’m not supposed to lie,” Virginia said. “That weird bread and homemade peanut butter was gross.”

“You need to learn to be truthful and kind at the same time. It’s what grown-ups do. Don’t take advantage of Mom’s good nature, understand? If that had been my Mom…” Dad trailed off and Virginia winced. Grandma was awfully strict and had a temper.

Virginia nodded silently. Her father kissed her goodnight, and Virginia dove under the covers, happily reading an old story about a girl and her spy route, but deciding she had pushed it far enough for one day and closed the book after the first chapter.

It stopped feeling like summer to Virginia and started to feel like an endless Saturday of garden chores. Anjali didn’t come over because none of her mom’s patients had babies due, so Dr. Rao had been free to take Anjali on a quick trip to the beach.

Virginia cleared clutter away from spots on the dining room table so her mother could take pictures of summer flower arrangements for her blog. She learned to clean a bathroom, and got sent back to finish because she’d left hairs all over the counter. She deadheaded all the withered blooms from the petunias, got sticky all over her hands, and had to wash her hands at the hose outside before her mother would let her come in to lunch. She watered all the flowers in pots on the patio, hefting the heavy watering can because her mother wouldn’t let her use the hose. So she’d dragged it across a plot of Hosta and uprooted half the plants. They were just big leaves, anyway. It’s not like they were pretty flowers or anything!

At the end of the week, Virginia came to her mother and asked her if there were any more chores to do.

“You can if you want, honey, but you’ve earned plenty for what you want,” Mom said, handing her a wrinkled bill.

Virginia had never owned so much money at one time. The paper felt somehow like more than paper – heavy and slick. But it felt like more than that. It felt like possibilities and at the same time felt pitifully small in the face of all the work she had done.

“Can I think about it?” Virginia asked.

“You can always think,” Mom said. “Thinking’s good. But it’s time for us to go to the grocery store. Put that in your pocket. You’re going to need it, right?”

At the store, Trey didn’t want to sit in the shopping cart as he usually did, but insisted on going with Virginia to the bread aisle.

“I’m not buying this for you,” Virginia said. “You wouldn’t even help me pick up sweet gum balls.”

Trey took in a deep breath as if to shout about the unfairness of it, when Mom sighed, “Trey, she can do that if she wants to. Come on and get in the cart. You, Little Red Hen, can go buy your stuff.”

In the bread aisle, Virginia looked at the prices. She wasn’t good at adding up big numbers, but finally figured out that her mother was right. She had a few cents more than a loaf of bread and a jar of their usual peanut butter would cost.

She felt the bill in her pocket and frowned, thinking about the sweet gum balls, her sticky hands and the heavy watering can. The homemade bread? It wasn’t that bad. Certainly not no-play-no-fun-work-all-day bad.

She left the bread aisle and went to find her mother. On the way to the produce section, she passed an aisle with play makeup for little girls. Her mother had always been cool to the idea of her getting any – not quite saying no, but always putting her off. Firmly, Virginia took the kit in hand and went to find her mother and brother.

“I changed my mind,” Virginia said. “I’m getting this.”

“And what are you going to have for lunches?” Mom asked.

“I’ll eat the weird bread,” Virginia said. “I’d rather have this.”

Mom looked more carefully at the makeup kit and winced, muttering, “You would. Well, it’s your money, kiddo. But that’s for dress-up. Understand?”

Virginia agreed, full of satisfaction as she paid for the makeup kit with her own money. At home, she carefully put the change in her ballerina jewelry box, and arranged the make-up on her dresser, feeling more grown-up than ever to have earned the money for it herself.

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i-want-to-rule-the-world-blog · 5 years

Text

2018

I STEAL SO MUCH I CANT EVEN ENJOY IT

MY PAPER FLAT NOW. I USED TO FOLD IT

IM TRYING TO CUFF A GIRL TO MY WRISSZ. THASSZ A ROLEX

IMPROVEMENTS EVERYDAY.

TALKS FEARLESSZ. WALKS WEAKNESSZ

GET A CHECK. GET A NECK. WRAP MY WRISSZ. 4 RINGS ON MY FISSZ

I HAVE TO GET MY MONEY UP

I HAVE MONEY ON MY MIND

LESSZ GET HIGH!

I NEED TO SWITCH UP ON MY CHOICES

IM HEARING LOTS OF NOISES

IM BELIEVING ALL THE VOICES

I HEAR VOICES IN MY HEAD

THE VOICES ARE NOT REAL

GO AHEAD

I LEAVE BREAD CRUMBS

GO TO THE SAME PLACES TO GET NUMB

MEET A STRANGER

CAN I GET YOUR NUMBER

I COULD SHOW YOU HOW IM WISE

MISSZED FLIGHTS

STAY IN 1 PLACE

REACH THE PEAKS OF THE HEIGHTS

ROLLING THE DICE

SMOKING ON ICE

LOOK AT MY EYES

JUSSZ KNOW THAT IM NICE

STEER RIGHT STEP

WATCH MY LIP

DO SUMN THAT MAKES YOU KEEP ME

WAKE UP

HAVE TO WAKE UP IN THE MORNING

BE PRESENT IN THE ATTENDANCE

NEVER SEEM TO PAY ATTENTION

DONT MESSZ UP W/ MY PLANS

SUICIDAL IS IN THE FUTURE

YOU BETTER MAKE SURE

DEWBI

IM PURE

NEVER PAID ATTENTION IN SCHOOL

I WAS COOL

KICKED OUT TO THE STREETS

IM HOMELESSZ

SPENDING TIME ON THE COMPUTER

GO TO SOCIAL MEDIA

A GANGSTER IN THE STREETS

DOING DIRT

SHOOTING EVERYTHING ON THE BASKETBALL COURT

COULD TELL THAT IDGAF B/C IDEC

SURROUNDED BY ALL OF THEM

IM ALONE

HAVE TO WATCH MY TONE

HAVE TO WASH MY MOUTH

GANG

THASSZ WHAT IM ABOUT

SWAG

THASSZ WHAT I IS

UNDERSTAND THAT MAIN

I SAID I WAS RUNN GAME

MINE

TWISTS

IM CHASING THIS PAPER

IM CHASING MY PRIME

IM CHASING A DIME

GIRL YOU FINE

CAN YOU PLEASE BE MINE

FAIR W/ BLIND

THE CHAIR & YOUR BEHIND GIVING ME TOP

GIVING YOU “FLAP FLAP. WHOS HOT. CLYDE IS"

I AM BESSZ

PESSZ CONTROL

NUNN LESSZ THAN THE REALESSZ

BEATING MY CHESSZ AFTER ANOTHER TESSZ

WORLD WIDE WESSZ

LEAVING THE RESSZ

GUESSZ WHASSZ NEXT

I DONT WANT A ROOM

THASSZ A MESSZ

COMPUTER ON MY DESSZ

I HAVE A LISSZ OF TRACKS & TASSZ

THE TYPE TO MAKE YOU CARRY A FLASSZ

PUT ON A MASSZ & TAKE IT OUT ON THE PASSZ

B/C OF CANT MAKE IT LASSZ

B/C OF CANT MAKE TIME GO FASSZ TO GETTING THAT CASH

I WAS WORKING AT THE MALL

I WAS STUFFING MY BAG FULL

IM A MEDIUM

THE JACKET WAS SO SMALL

PASSED BY THEM

ISSZ MY CALL

DONT SMOKE & DONT STEAL

PARANOID FEAR

ILL STAND DOWN W/ A CROWN ON MY HEAD

I KNOW NONE OF YOU N* WANT ME DEAD

IM A REAL NIGGA & A GOLD DIGGER

GANGSTER

GO FIGURE

I EXPLAIN SO YOU DONT HAVE TO FIGURE IT OUT

BY MYSELF (I YELL. SCREAM. AND SHOUT.)

VOICES IN MY HEAD & MY MIND

NEVER DID HUSTLE

KNOCKED ME OFF MY GRIND

LOCKED UP ONLY GETTING MUSCLE

LEAVE EVERYTHING BEHIND

IM A KING IN A CASTLE

FREE UP

I HAVE THINGS TO DO OUSSZIDE

GET MY MONEY UP

THEYRE PAID & IMMA RIDE

KEEP THE CHANGE

I RUN UP & SHOOT YOU CLOSE RANGE

POKING ONCE YOU PISSZ ME OFF

MELEE

I NEED ME ANOTHER ONE

FIRSSZ ARRESSZ I COULD COUGH

CRIP WAS SMOKING CRACK

GANGSTER GOON IS SOFT

THEYRE SAYING I STAY ON TRACK

MISSZ THE TRAIN W/ ME BABY

WHASSZ YOUR NAME

YOURE A DIME GIRL YOU FINE

WHASSZ YOUR SIGN

READ YOUR HOROSCOPES

I F* W/ THE GOAT

GANGSTER RAP HIP HOP

WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LISSZEN TO

I DONT HAVE A CLUE

OKAY ILL STAY AWAY FROM YOU

TAKE CARE OF MYSELF B/C I AINT GETTING NO HELP FROM NOBODY

NO BODIES

ACHOO

DONT LET ME CATCH YOU W/ A BAT

I HANG UPSIDE DOWN IN A CAVE

CHEWING ON YOUR CHEESE LIKE A RAT

I DONT EVEN WAVE

JUSSZ TELL ME WHATCHU WANT

ILL BE BLUNT

GIVE YOU MY MONEY IN A MONTH

I WAS NEVER LOYAL TO THE FAMILY

I WANT TO BE LOYAL TO THE FAMILY

CATCH ME STRONG B/C I AINT HAVING IT

COMFORTABLE SITUATIONS HAVE TO WAIT

AND YOU CAN PLAN IT TOO

IM W/ THE CREW. NO CAP

IM BOUT TO SWEEP W/ A BROOM

PUSH UPS RUN LAPS ON THE MAP OF THE ROOM ISSZ A CELL

CHARGING MY CELLPHONE WHEN I GO HOME

THE STREETS IS HELL

IM A BUM W/ A PUN & A GUN

THIS IS NOT FOR FUN

ISSZ NOT EVEN A JOKE

IM SERIOUS AS HELL & YOU CAN TRUSSZ ME (I WONT TELL.)

GO HARD OR GO HOME

IM NOT DOING THIS ALONE

TRYING TO HOLLA IS A JOKE

CATCH ME SLIPPING WHEN IM BROKE

I HAVE A GIRL & A WIFE

POKE W/ A KNIFE IF YOU TOUCH THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

GIRL I CANT TAKE MY EYES OFF OF YOU

WHY CANT YOU STAY

ISSZ EARLY & I PLAY

LIGHTS OUT (I HAVE TO WORK HARD.)

QUIT PLAYING B/C OF WHERE YOURE HEADED TOWARDS

STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM & IM GOING UP

TO THE TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN

IM A TOP DOG. BALL HOG

TAGALOG. PURE FILIPINO

CANADIAN COMBO

ONLY ONES TO BE FORBIDDEN

THE ISLANDS & THE RED

EASSZ GANG

SPOILED BRAT

YAKIF!

DONT CRY. DONT BE SCARED

NOBODY EVEN DARED TO TOUCH ANY OF MY B*

YOURE DEAD IF IM YOUR B* B/C IM KING REYYZ & LFE

RUN TLF (THE LORDS OF FIGHTING.)

IM THE BESSZ AT TYPING

IM THE BESSZ AT ACTING

LIVE & THE REACTION

“DONT DO NUNN UNNECESSARY."

I FOUND THE GIRL I WANT TO MARRY

LESSZ HAVE A BABY

ILL GET EVERYTHING READY

& ILL WAIT FOR YOU TO SHOW UP IN MY LIFE AGAIN

IM TAKING THE TOP

KEEP CHEESE

DONT EAT

"SMOKE YOU LIKE TOP PAPER."

DONT GO IN THE WATER

GET SLASHES

DRIP LIKE A SPLASH

DROP FOR THE CASH

SWISH* "THATS A BASKET!”

FLICK OF THE WRISSZ

IM A GANGSTER FROM THE COMPUTER TO THE STREETS

PUT ME ON A BEAT. IM RAPPING

WHASSZ HAPPENN

“IM FROM THE SOUTH WHERE ISSZ COLD LIKE THE NORTH POLE*"

TORONTO, ONTARIO, CDN $$$ TO THE PISO

PAY SHENS. ILL BE PATIENT

BEFORE I WAS

ISSZ ALL I KNOW WHAT TO DO

JUSSZ KNOW THAT I HAS

IM A TRUE FAKE

I DONT WANT BEEF

IM A THIEF

USER

I WANT TO BE A PLAYER IF LIFE IS A GAME

IM A BEASSZ. IM NOT TAMED

IM HERE TO PROTECT & SERVE

F* WHATCHU HEARD

FOLLOW THE SYSTEM & OBEY THE LAW

10 COMMANDMENTS

I BELIEVE IN GOD LIKE A CHRISTIAN

ON A MISSZION LIKE A SOLDIER

I WOULD GO TO HER

IM GOING TO HIM

I KNOW ABOUT HIM

LET THERE BE LIGHT IS DIM

BLIND FROM A BEAM

SHINE

BRING ME MINE

IM ON MY HUSSZLE & MY GRIND

IM LEAVING MY NAME BEHIND

I NEED A BIRTH CERTIFICATE

I ONLY SEE 1 PLATE ON THE TABLE

IM READY FOR BATTLE

LESSZ FIGHT

GOODNIGHT

CANT SLEEP

TRYNA RUN LIKE THE BEEP TESSZ

MARCHING IN THE EASSZ

FLYING TO THE WESSZ

ST.E'Z CHS CRESSZ

STABBED TO THE CHESSZ

DO YOUR BESSZ

DONT BE OPPRESSZED

I WANT TO KEEP MY STUFF

IM NOT TOUGH

IM A GOOD & IM GOOD

MYSTERY. ROMANCE. PASSZION

STYLE & FASHION

STREET THUG

SOLD SOME BUGS

HOW YOU SHOW ME LOVE

I SHOULDNT HAVE

IT WAS NEVER ENOUGH

I EVEN GOT CUFFED

IM STILL HERE YELLING & GETTING YELLED AT

I DONT HAD ENOUGH OF THAT

IM LEAVING ASAP

CROSSZ THE DEFENDER IN BASKETBALL

GO FOR THE TOUCHDOWN

IM THE QB

RUN IT UP TO THE CATCH

HE COULDVE DASHED

PASSZED IT ANYWAY

"WHERE THERES A WILL. THERES A WAY."

I DONT PUSH IT TO THE LIMIT

IM RIGHT BEHIND IT

I DONT FINISH

THASSZ LIKE A DREAM COME TRUE

MAKE A WISH

FAIRY DUSSZ FLIES & RUNS THROUGH

IM AIMING FOR PERFECTION

MISTAKES ARE LESSZONS

YOU CANT TAKE IT BACK ONCE ISSZ HAPPENED

I FOUND IT & I CAN NEVER GET AROUND IT

DUCK & DODGE EVERYBODY

THEY SEE & HEAR YOU WHEN YOU GET HAPPY

DONT PLAY GAMES ON A LAME

ACCIDENT PRONE. DONT GET ON MY LANE

LICENSE & REGISTRATION. WHASSZ YOUR NAME

WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE. HAVE YOU BEEN DRINKING

DONT DRINK & DRIVE. YOU COULD GIVE ME A HIGH 5

I COULD DIE TONIGHT & I FIGHT

FIGHTING TO STAY ALIVE

IM FIGHTING MY BATTLES

TAKING CARE OF MYSELF RIGHT

#CLYDE BANGSOY

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