#i bet you had a really cringe song | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

star-girl69 · 5 months

Text

In A Good Way

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: basically episode two but if clarisse had a gf (so what should have been canon pretty much)

a/n: sorry dior is so fine i had to get the thoughts out this is kinda shitty also but anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

In A Good Way - Faye Webster

warnings: some violence, swearing, soft and ooc clarisse but only bc i wholeheartedly believe she is soft only for her gf and i love soft clarisse, also protective!clarisse my weakness, i’m insane, cringe, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You watch Clarisse bump into the poor boy.

You’re sitting with your siblings, Tyla and Jackie, but your eyes were drawn to her even across the courtyard. Your eyes are always drawn to her.

She shoulders him hard, then immediately turns around and pushes him straight to the ground. Tyla gasps next to you as he crashes sharply into the dirt.

“Your girlfriend is a literal menace, Y/N,” Jackie scoffs.

“How do you think I feel having to deal with her?”

You really do feel bad for the boy, Percy, you think. Regardless of whether or not he really killed the Minotaur (Clar spent the entire night talking your ear off about how it simply can’t be true) it’s his first day at camp. He’s helpless, to say the least.

Feeling less than your whole life and then finally coming to a place where everyone else is like you, finally getting answers- it’s a shock.

You always feel bad for every new camper. Especially the young and tiny ones like him. Besides, you like his cute blonde hair.

“Oh, haha,” Jackie rolls her eyes. “You love her.”

You start to get up, faking a dramatic sigh, “I do.”

Tyla giggles as you walk away and come into earshot.

“Hey. Knock it off, Clarisse. It’s like his first day, come on.” Luke seems as unimpressed as he always does, slightly apathetic, as another Hermes cabin member tugs Percy up.

“Wait, so, this is the kid who killed the Minotaur. Is that right?” she takes a step forward, a misleading smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Percy says, awkwardly looking around.

“I’ll bet,” she smiles, her eyes lighting up in prospect of someone new to torture. “Look, you want attention around here, dummy? You better be ready for it when it comes.”

Her eyes meet yours.

“Clarisse!” you say in a sing-song voice, walking up to her and placing your hand on her shoulder. “He’s, like, twelve.”

“Oh, but he’s strong enough to kill a Minotaur?”

Your eyes lock, her hand brushes your hip, and you get those same cliche butterflies in your stomach you always do when you look at her.

You smile.

You see her eyes soften.

She turns back to Percy after a moment, faking forward, and he flinches so hard he almost falls back.

Her and her Ares siblings laugh, you roll your eyes, and push her away. She walks away, her siblings in tow, and you turn back to Luke.

On Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth’s last stretch to camp, they came across you. Your satyr protector had been killed by a monster protecting you, and Luke had held your hand and promised that all of you were going to make it to camp.

You’ll always have that bond with Luke, even though Clar hates his guts and his best swordsman in camp title.

You place your arm on his shoulder, he slings a loose arm around your waist.

Luke is pretty much the only person who can get away with touching you like this, or else they’ll receive a nice message from Clarisse in the form of a dagger barely missing their face.

“Ares kids,” Luke explains to Percy. “They come by it honestly. You got lucky today. If Y/N hadn’t come around, you probably would have gotten knocked over again.”

“Hi,” you say, sticking out your hand. “I’m Y/N.” Percy shakes your hand, smiling awkwardly.

“She’s Clarisse’s girlfriend and the only thing that stands between the camp and total destruction.”

“Oh,” Percy says, not quite able to hide his surprise and slight disgust. “She seems… nice.”

“Well, if you look like me, she’ll love you. But… I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Percy chuckles a bit.

“Why don’t they bother you?” he asks Luke.

“Ah, they know better,” he says, squeezing you closer to him.

“Yeah, Luke’s the best swordsman in camp,” one of Luke’s siblings says. You can see something in Percy’s eyes, a light that reminds you a bit of Clar.

“So, they stay away from you because, glory? So, if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn’t mess with me either?”

“Exactly,” Luke affirms. You look at him out of the corner of your eye. What the Hades is he teaching him?

“And people think I’m a big deal?”

“Well, sorta-”

“And my dad’s got no choice but to claim me.”

Oh. Your heart squeezes for him.

“You… you can’t force the Gods to do anything,” Luke says, trying not to hurt Percy too much.

“Well, yeah, but… it would make it a lot harder for him to pretend I don’t exist, right?”

“Maybe,” Luke concedes.

“Great. Where do we start?”

You laugh. “Ooh, I like the way you think.” You slip away from Luke, smiling at Percy. “Come find me if you wanna try your hand at some Aphrodite skills.”

—-

You find Clarisse sitting outside her cabin at a picnic table, polishing her spear, her favorite activity.

You sit down next to her.

“Hey, baby,” she murmurs, a bit too entranced with the gift from her father.

“I only have a few minutes before I go to archery, but… I think you’ll enjoy this.” She looks over at you for a second, then right back to the spear. “Don’t make me charmspeak you, La Rue.”

“Okay. Okay, sorry, what?” she sets the spear down in her lap, staring up at you with a smile as if she hadn’t been ignoring you a second ago.

“Percy Jackson wants to find glory so you’ll stop bothering him,” she snorts, “and so his father will have to claim him.”

She hums.

“Well, I like him. I think he’s cute.”

She shoots you a bored look.

“Don’t say horrible things like that.”

You play with a curl hanging over her shoulder. “We both know I’ll say whatever I want.”

“Oh, I know.”

—-

“What happened to you?”

You turn to look at Clarisse’s smirking face.

“What?”

She rolls her eyes. “C’mere,”

You lean forward, across the space between the Aphrodite cabin and the Ares cabin tables. Clarisse puts her hand to your face, thumb tracing along your cheekbone. She pulls back, and you stare at her dirt covered thumb.

“You’re covered in dirt, gorgeous.”

You hurriedly raise your hand up to your face, groaning when your palm does in fact come away covered in dirt.

“Percy is definitely not a child of Apollo,” you mutter.

“What d’you mean?” Clarisse asks, handing you a few extra napkins as you begin to wipe off your face, a spot on your shirt you had noticed.

“Luke’s taking him around, trying to figure out what he’s got a talent for. It was funny, actually, he shot the arrow over all of us on the side and we all went crashing into the ground.”

She doesn’t seem to find it as funny as you do.

“It was an accident, Clar!” you say, all sing-song again.

“Oh, I’m sure it was. Exactly why I don’t believe he killed that Minotaur.”

“Adrenaline makes even mortals do crazy things.”

“You don’t kill a Minotaur with adrenaline,” she hisses.

—-

Capture the Flag is held the next day. Clarisse and two of her siblings have been particularly pissed off all morning, and no matter how much you bug her, she only says “you’ll see” in this horribly nerve-wracking tone.

You have the same job you do every game. Sit in front of the flag, and charmspeak anyone who tries to come near it.

You’re decent with a bow, okay with a sword, but this is one area where you really shine, where you can really help.

After the first game, the blue team has learned to wear ear plugs when they come near you. But you’re like a siren, you come around and take out their ear plugs anyways. They’re scared to touch you, because one of the Ares kids will run right off to Clarisse, and she tells you all the time that she’d rather lose dessert privileges for a month then see you with one scratch.

Chiron stands imposingly on the large rock at the start of the small river that divides the two halves of the woods.

“The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor.”

You know these rules by heart.

Ever since your first Game, the day you met Clarisse, you’ve loved them. You’re not the most violent person, nothing near Clar and her insatiable thirst for competition, but there’s just something about the game.

She walks forward through the sea of red-marked armor, digging her spear into the ground and glaring at what you can only assume to be Percy Jackson.

“Any magical items you may possess are permitted as well. Every camper who is not injured has to play. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged.”

You suppress a laugh at that rule. That one was only implemented a few games ago, right after the one where you had been taken prisoner and tied with vines to a tree. When Clar had heard, she actually almost murdered a few kids and maimed some more.

Although it made keeping prisoners a little awkward, Chiron had proclaimed it was in everyone’s best interests.

“Let the games begin!” he shouts, the conch blows, and the entire team screams in a terrifying war cry.

The blue team bangs their shields and weapons together, and now you have 20 minutes before game on.

Clarisse is the captain of your team, of course. She marches around barking orders to everyone, as if their positions aren’t already drilled into their heads.

“Hey Clar,” you say. You’re surrounded by a few Ares kids, a few other good fighters, ready to protect the flag and by extension you- with their lives.

Capture the flag games are taken seriously.

She looks at the red flag in your hands, smiling in that smug way she always does. She doesn’t smile this way when it’s just you and her, but you can still see the softness in her eyes even now. With Clarisse, her emotions are all about the eyes.

“You all know what you’re doing?” she asks. All the kids behind you nod. “Good,” she smirks, starting to walk away.

“Are you hunting in your usual woods today?” you ask, heading in the same direction as her.

She smiles, a full toothy grin.

“Oh, baby, I have something even better planned.”

Clarisse is not one to change the strategy.

You can’t get it out of your head what she’s been saying about Percy.

“If you kill someone, I’m killing you.”

She just smiles.

—-

One of the kids holds the flag from up on a rock, acting like a lookout. You lean against that rock, your armor digging into your thighs at the awkward angle, waiting for someone to come. Everyone else surrounds you in the flag, in battle stances.

The conch blew about 20 minutes ago, and you should be seeing someone soon.

“I think Luke’s coming,” Corey, the Apollo kid lookout says.

“Of course he is,” you mutter. He’s always in charge of getting the flag, because he’s not afraid to touch you. Clarisse knows he’s just your friend, or else he probably would have been dead by now. They emerge from the woods, not bothering to try for stealth, all in defensive positions.

Everyone lets you take the lead. You understand why Clarisse loves power. It’s addicting, it’s like lightening in your veins.

“Hi, Luke,” you smile.

He can’t hear you, but he returns the smile.

“You’re all going to turn around and walk 300 feet in the other direction.”

Luke sighs as one of the kids actually turns and walks away, heeding your command. Everyone else has their earplugs in tight, but it always gets one or two of them.

You roll your eyes. “You always make this so difficult, Luke.”

You walk towards him, maybe you can surprise him and rip the ear plugs out of your ear, but he suddenly springs his leg out so you trip, slamming into the ground and getting a face full of dirt.

“Bitch,” you mumble, ready to get up. Suddenly, a Hermes girl throws herself on top of you, slapping a hand over your mouth.

As soon as you hit the ground, the fight erupts around you.

“You can’t do this, Luke, it’s against the rules!” you screech, but it’s muffled through the girls thick leather gloves.

Matty, one of Clar’s siblings sighs heavily. “Fuckin’ hate this dude,” he mumbles. “Marjorie, go get Clarisse.”

The girl runs off, and Matty adjusts his helmet.

“Don’t know why you do this to yourself, man.”

Luke kneels down in front of you while you scream obscenities next to his name. He makes a big show of taking out his earplugs before ruffling your hair.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

He whips around and his sword immediately clashes with Matty’s, and they’re locked in a flurry of metal clashing and glinting in the sunlight. Matty is really good, probably bested only by Clarisse, but Luke is still the best swordsman in camp.

He puts up a valiant fight, but Luke disarms him.

Your back is really, really starting to hurt like this.

It’s whirlwind, but there were more blue team then red team, and sometimes sheer number beats out even the best of the Ares cabin.

They grab the flag and run for the beach.

The girl waits for another moment until one of the Ares kids points his sword at her.

“You’re really gonna want to let her go,” Matty says. She stands up and books it, following her team.

“Eat dirt!” you scream as she runs away, but she still has her earplugs in.

Matty helps you up.

“Clarisse’s gonna kill us all.”

“I hate Luke Castellan. I hate him, I hate him, I wish him nothing but pain and suffering.”

Matty claps your shoulder.

“Hey, at least we all get to watch Clarisse beat up the Hermes cabin at sword practice tomorrow.”

And you do like seeing Clar fight, the way she’s so focused and truly in her element, sweat making her skin glisten in the sunlight…

“That will be fun,” you concede. Matty laughs, and you all make your way down to the beach.

—-

The scream scares you.

All the kids around you jump up with their swords, thinking a monster had somehow made its way near camp, but you recognize that voice.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, feeling frozen.

“What?” Matty asks, his eyes scanning the forest. “What’d you say?”

“Clarisse,” you repeat, breaking off into a run towards the sound of it, towards the beach.

“Clar- wait, Y/N!”

But you’re already long gone.

—-

You make it to the beach a minute after the conch sounded, the blue team having won, making it just in time to see the blue trident appear over Percy’s head. You can barely even register the fact that he’s a forbidden child, your eyes immediately finding Clar’s siblings, the ones she was supposed to be hunting with today.

“Hey, hey,” you breathe out, almost slamming into one of them. “W-where’s Clarisse? I heard her scream-”

You love her so much it’s like your heart will break if you even think about her being hurt. It always seems like Clar is the one who loves you more, only because of her proud and overprotective nature, but really you love her just as much.

You just never have the opportunity to threaten to kill someone like she does for you. She does that all on her own.

“Oh, uh, she went that way,” he points in the direction of a barely there path, heading into the woods and back to camp.

“Great, thanks!” you shout, already running after her.

You catch up with her after a minute, your gaze landing on her practically stomping through the woods. She’s angry. She’s angry, why?

“Clar!” you shout, and she whips around, standing still while you sprint over to her. “Clarisse, Clarisse, are you hurt? I-I heard you scream-”

You run your hands up and down her arms, and after a tense second of her staring at the ground, she puts her hands on your hips.

“I’m not hurt, I’m fine.”

She looks like she’s about to cry. But you know she won’t ever let herself cry, won’t ever let herself be perceived as weak.

You wrap your arms and let her put her face in your neck. She’s almost shaking with how angry she is, her fingers digging into your hips, and she stops herself and lets go before she can hurt you.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur. You’re not sure what happened. But she screamed like that, not like she was scared, but like she had just lost something. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She says into your neck, simple, and you respect it.

“Okay, well, let’s go back to your cabin. You’re not gonna believe the day I had. Will it make you happy to know I give you permission to beat up Luke?”

She looks up at you with skeptical eyes. You both ignore the tears staining her cheeks. “Really?” she asks, slightly hopeful, even through all her anger and sadness.

“Come on,” you smile, letting go of her and sliding you hand into hers. She meets your pace and wraps her arm around your waist. She doesn’t tell you she loves you, but you know.

—-

You flop down onto Clar’s bed. As the head counselor, she gets the best bunk. On the second floor loft, where there’s only enough space for single beds, meaning she doesn’t have to deal with bunk beds, all the way in the corner for a little privacy.

She stands in front of you, slipping off her shoes, and your reach forward to work at the knots of her breastplate.

She stares at you until the armor is lose around her, and she lifts it up over her head and leaves it haphazardly on the ground.

You lay flat, stretching your aching back, and Clar leans over you to help you take off your armor. You probably don’t even need armor, but Clarisse is overprotective by nature, by blood. It makes her feel better, and it really doesn’t bother you much. She lifts it over your head, letting the metal crash into the floor before laying down next to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m supposed to be here for you but I’m so tired, and my back hurts so bad…”

She laughs. You smile, and it falls into comfortable silence.

“Can I really beat up Luke?” she says after a second.

You open your eyes and she’s laying on her side, propped up her arm and staring at you.

“Oh, you can.”

“Why?” she asks, still not quite believing you.

“Okay, so, Luke comes over, right. And you know, I try to charmspeak them but only one of them goes. I walk over to Luke and he fucking trips me! It was so embarrassing, baby, I literally ate shit.”

She smiles and puts her arm around your waist, tugging you closer to her.

“Then, some girl tackles me before I can get up, and puts her hand over my mouth so I can’t do anything. Which first of all, is completely against the rules, and second of all, it really hurt my back! Then, then, Luke has the audacity to say ‘Oh, thanks Y/N!’ and ruffles my hair, like? I swear to Gods, I just want him to… well, I don’t know. Suffer.”

“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” she mutters into the top of your head. “I’ll make sure he’s unrecognizable.”

You smile. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Clarisse. Who would defend my honor and fight my battles?”

She seems sort of placid, tired, like she’s just a still lake reacting to your body wading in deeper. It’s almost like she’s gonna fall asleep, and she’s always tired after capture the flag, so it’s not unusual.

“I’d be there,” she mutters, her eyes closed.

You’re both silent for a few more minutes, just the two of you together, her strong arm around you, the way it’s always meant to be.

“He’s a son of Poseidon. Did you see?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I saw.”

“It’s not fair,” she says, like the child she never got to be. “I spend so much time, so much time trying to make him proud- it took months for him to claim me and he gets claimed on, what, his third day?”

Her head lands on your chest, your hands smoothing down her hair.

She touches the necklace she gave you months ago, bringing it out from under your shirt, the simple chain with the pretty charm that looks like a spear. More so an arrow, but it’s supposed to be her spear.

“He broke it,” she whispers.

“Broke what?”

She sits up a little higher, her hands reaching behind you and undoing the clasp on your necklace. You haven’t even taken it off since she put it on you, so of course she would be the one to take it off.

“He broke my spear.”

“Oh, Clarisse…” she stares at the necklace before folding it up tightly in her palm. She breathes out as she lays back down on your chest, her legs entwining with yours, your hand back in her curls.

“The Hephaestus kids can fix it, but it won’t be electrical anymore.”

You don’t say anything. Most people would say “it’s better than nothing” but you’re demigods with absent divine parents.

Clarisse didn’t tell you it was better than nothing to at least be claimed by Aphrodite when one of your siblings got a magic item from her. She didn’t try and tell you “maybe someday” when you cried in her arms.

Because more often then not, you’ll die before your godly parent even claims you. More kids die on their way to Camp Half-Blood then Chiron would like to admit.

And what would the Gods do? Nothing. They would do nothing about it, because they don’t care.

Clarisse doesn’t cry, but you know she wants to, and you let her know that she can cry if she wants to. She can, if she has to. You’d never turn her away.

If she hasn’t realized already, you’re in this for the long run.

—-

Clarisse fell asleep in your arms, then pulled you back when you tried to go back to your own cabin, and you figured Chiron wouldn’t mind this once.

She finally let you go after you screamed that she couldn’t kiss you before you brushed your teeth, mumbling about how you’re depriving her.

When you meet up with her again, she has her sword in hand and her armor strapped tight to her body.

It was just a great big coincidence that the Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares and Demeter cabins all had sword practice at the same times. Clarisse looked all too happy at being able to get out some anger from yesterday, because sparring is the only way Clar has to work out the intense feelings she inherited from her father.

“So, who should I metaphorically kill?”

“Ooh, big word,” you tease. She grabs your chin, making you look at her, but she’s smiling too much for it to be a threat.

“C’mon, baby, who?”

“Luke. And…” you point, “That’s the girl who tackled me. Oh, and that’s the boy who fought Corey and got the flag. I don’t know his name.”

“‘Cause he’s irrelevant,” she says. You hum. “You just wait right here, gorgeous, enjoy the show.” She winks before sauntering off in the girls direction, smiling in that misleading way, asking her if she wants to spar.

You beckon Jackie and Tyla over to you, who both seem unimpressed.

“Please don’t tell me you put Clarisse up to attacking the Hermes cabin,” Tyla sighs.

“I didn’t put her up to anything. She did it all on her own.”

“Oh, sure she did,” Jackie rolls her eyes.

“Don’t act like you all aren’t gonna enjoy it.”

Tyla meets your eyes, then Jackie’s.

“Sorry, Jacks, it’s, like, really entertaining!”

You all laugh as Clar leads the girl into the circle, laughing even harder when she disarms her after a minute. The boy who took the flag barely lasts 45 seconds.

When Luke walks up to her, she throws her sword down and tackles him. You give her a minute before you pull her off.

—-

clarisse, about to beat up percy

y/n: oh no no no no you don’t

clarisse: ok i won’t kill him rn 😍😍😍😍

—-

y/n: yeah like idk what i would do without you who would protect me and fight my battles

clarisse “i would be there” la rue: bitch our love transcends the laws of physics I WOULD BE THERE

—-

y/n giggling and kicking her feet watching clarisse beat up luke

—-

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #pjo x you

2K notes · View notes

iamyourdailydoseofbi · 9 months

Note

Hii I was wondering if maybe you could write a Aemond Targaryen fic? Where Aemond is like Gomez Addams and he says, "Look at her --I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way --what bliss." With maybe even a taylor swift song? Thanks :))

EITHER WAY WHAT BLISS ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! It makes me so happy to know that you requested my writing! I love this idea! He does ( lowkey ) give off this vibe <3

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Tully! Reader

prompt: Aemond is willing to die for the Reader if it means he'll get an ounce of her love.. ( The inspo was 'Gorgeous' by Taylor Swift. )

key: h/c = hair color, Dahlia = random servant girl, Evan Tully

word count: 2,000+ words

Brushing away a strand of white hair from their face, Y/n scans the rows of men, her eyes lingering on her brother Brynden. Her name day was supposed to be a small affair between her family and her bethorthal’s. But, the King was stubborn and insisted on having a Tourney at the very least. So, she’d be sitting through at least an hour of jousting, games of archery, and grueling duels. Not exactly what she wanted to do on her name day. But, what can she do?

Picking at her bottom lip, Brynden gives her a weak smile as he adjusts his armor, her heart clenched tightly. He could barely hold a sword, and of course, he had to enter a bloody swordsman match. Feeling Dahlia nudge her side hard, she snaps out of her daze, her cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. Shit. Turning to look at Dahlia, she tries to smile as the black haired girl continues to ramble away about something about men and their ‘walks’.

“I bet you my finest necklace, that knight. The one in black armor is really fine under that helmet.” Dahlia giggles, twirling a strand of her hair.

“Oh? How do you know that? For all you know he’s got the face of a donkey. How good he looks in armor, doesn’t mean that he’s that good in regular clothes.” Y/n scoffs, following Dahlia’s eyes.

“It’s the walk. Look at how he holds himself. A fine looking man walks with a little extra pep in his step. Like he knows that the moment he removes that helmet, girls are going to swoon over him.” Dahlia smirks, “Just like your little Prince.”

“Just because you want to fuck my betrothed does not mean that I wish to hear about it, Dahlia. Keep that talk for the other maids.” Y/n scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“I am envious that you, little Y/n Tully, are going to call that man her husband. The ungodly things I would do make him look at me the way he does to you. He looks at you like you crafted the moon and stars.” Dahlia rambles, a dreamy look on her face.

Scoffing at Dahlia’s teasing, she narrows her eyes at the knight, inspecting the black armor he adorned. His face was hidden under his helmet. Looking for some kind of hint of which house he was from, the only thing that was kind of a hint was the sapphire blue cape he was wearing. But, even then it could mean nothing. Tilting her head to the side, she didn’t like that the man was a mystery, why was he hiding? What was he hiding? Watching as he strolls over to Brynden, she stands up a little straighter in her seat, her jaw clenching. If he so much as touched a hair on her baby brother’s head, she’d make Maegor the Cruel seem like a baby compared to her.

“Brynden will be fine, Y/n.” Dahlia reasons, but her voice is weak.

“Brynden cannot even hold a sword upright.” Y/n argues, “Not to mention he’s got two left feet!”

“Well you’ve always looked rather pretty in black?” Dahlia weakly smiles.

“Dahlia!” Y/n scolds, shooting her friend a look.

“I know! But, at least he’ll look good dying?” Dahlia cringes at her own words, “I don’t know! I don't really know what to say..”

Slapping Dahlia’s shoulder, the pit in her stomach only worsens, her face curling up in anger and uneasiness. She did not have any other siblings but Brynden. He was her whole world. Her baby brother. She had practically raised him! She was the one to teach him how to say his first words. She was the one who taught him how to walk. She was there to teach him how to handle a horse. How to be a just and kind Lord. How to be the perfect husband. She did everything that a parent would do. Except how to hold a sword.

Picking at her bottom lip with her teeth, she slowly rises from her seat, pacing back and forth in place. She wouldn’t be able to stomach her baby brother getting hurt. It’d kill her, surely! Feeling Dahlia grab her arm, she’s pulled from her darkening thoughts. The taste of blood floods her mouth. Shit. Wiping her bottom lip clean of blood, she’s aware of the eyes that now shifted onto her. The maiden of the day. Aemond Targaryen’s betrothed. The sweet little Tully girl born with white curls. The Enchantress of the Realm.

"Ocean blue eyes looking in mine I feel like..I might sink and drown and die.."

“If that was your attempt to make me feel better, it failed..” Y/n breaths out, “Perhaps, I should just talk to him about pulling out. It’s not too late..”

“My Lady…” Dahlia tries, but Y/n doesn’t hear her.

“Do not try to talk me out of this, Dahlia. I will not allow my brother to make a fool of himself, or worse kill himself.” Y/n shakes her head, “I have made my mind! Come let us⎯”

“It’s your future husband..” Dahlia speaks through her teeth.

“You're so gorgeous, I can't say anything to your face..'Cause look at your face..gorgeous...”

Furrowing her brows at Dahlia’s odd words, the black haired girl turns her around, forcing her to look down. Shit. She finds herself staring down at Aemond, the mysterious knight in black armor. Her face flushes a bright red from embarrassment. The knight they had⎯Well the knight Dahlia was gawking at was Aemond. Staring at him with wide eyes, Dahlia nudges her side, trying to snap her out of her little daze. But, it feels like her tongue is made of lead. Looking him up and down, his long white locs are braided back from his face, but a few stray strands frame his face. There’s a small smirk on his face, as he adjusts his armor. Gods almighty, he looked gorgeous in armor.

“And I'm so furious..At you for making me feel this way..But what can I say? You're gorgeous..”

“Aemond..” Y/n breathes out, “You're the blue knight..I..I thought you didn’t give a shit about Tourneys?”

“I don’t. But, it would be a shame if I did not participate in my future-brides Name Day Tourney.” He smirks, licking his bottom lip.

“I..Aemond, could you..?” She chews on her bottom lip, “Could you possibly? Please watch out for my brother?”

“I will.” He nods, making her smile gratefully.

“Thank you.”

He kept his word, or at least that was what Dahlia was telling her. She hadn’t dared to open her eyes just yet. She didn’t not care if that made her a coward. She just couldn’t stand to watch the fights and not think about her brother while men pummeled each other with swords. Squeezing Dahlia’s hand tightly, she tenses at the call of her brother’s name and Aemond’s. Her eyes shoot open, her jaw dropping slightly. No. No. No. No. That couldn't be right! She must have misheard! Sharply turning her head to the fighting circle, she bolts from her seat, leaning against the railing. Her nails dig into the wood like a cat’s would. Her eyes are flickering between the two of them.

One of them would get hurt, she was sure of it, whether it be intentional or not. Her breathing grows ragged, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She was afraid that it would jump out of her chest. Watching as they raise their swords, she stuck in a trance as they slowly circled each other. Their swords collide, her eyes shutting tightly at the horrid sound of metal against metal. Biting her lip, she doesn’t know why her eyes peel open, but her heart stops in her chest as she catches the sight of Aemond falling to the ground. His sapphire blue cape slowly turned red. She nearly faints at the sight of red, he’s bleeding. Oh gods..He was bleeding.

“You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah..”

“AEMOND!” She shouts, the words escaping her lips before she can stop it.

“My Prince!” Someone shouts, their voice a blur in her mind.

No. No. No. No. Watching with blurry eyes as Maesters rush to him, she wants to bolt to him, but her legs are frozen in place. Brynden drops his sword, the realization creeping on his face. Feeling Dahlia’s arms wrap around her, it seems like the Arena explodes with chaos in an instant. Everyone is shouting loudly. Guards are rushing around in every direction. But, throughout the chaos her eyes are on him. Her Aemond.

“He’ll be okay…” Dahlia reassures, “Maesters are tending to him..”

“Take me to him.” Y/n breaths out, tears flooding her eyes.

“Y/n..” Dahlia nervously warns, “I..I don’t think we should. Not right now at least.”

“Take me to him.” Y/n repeats, her voice more firm than before.

Shooting Dahlia an icy glare, Dahlia chews on her lip before nodding her head at the request, a nervous look on her face. What if it was bad? What if he died? Would Brynden be punished? Gods, how in the Seven bloody hells did this happen? Following Dahlia, she picks up her skirt, her eyes searching for the white haired man that was to be her husband. Pushing past frantic Lords and Guards, it felt like an invisible force had her by the throat, squeezing her lungs and throat with each step she took closer to a bleeding out Aemond.

Seeing him laying on the ground, his chest piece was removed, his white tunic cut open to reveal the rather gnarly gash on his stomach. Tears flood her eyes at the sight before her. Covering her mouth with her hand, she rushes to his side, her eyes scanning every little detail that she can. His chest was moving up and down, he was drenched in sweat and dirt. That was a good thing. Looking at his face, his eye patch was removed, his hair completely unbraided and spread around him like a halo.

“Oh..Aemond..” She whispers, petting his sweat soaked hair.

“My Lady, you should not be here.”

“He is my husband to be, I will not be leaving.” She argues, turning back to Aemond. “Aemond, are you okay, love?”

“I am fine. Do not worry.” He grunts, clenching his jaw.

Staring into his eyes, she tenses up at the sight of his missing eye-patch. Fuck, he looked gorgeous with that scar. Looking up at her, he notices her attention on his face. Lifting a hand to touch his face, his face drains of color when he doesn’t feel the leather of his eye-patch. He had been purposeful in hiding his scar from the world. He didn’t want to be viewed as a monster. But, she looked at him with such softness in her eyes. Hunching over him, she casually places her hand over his eye, hiding his eye from everyone. Giving him a small nod, his breathing grows shaky.

“You dodged his attack. But, not like someone as experienced with a sword as you are, would. Why?” Dahlia asks, narrowing her eyes at Aemond.

“Look at her, I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way⎯what bliss.” He whispers, High Valyrian flowing off his tongue.

“You are a lovestruck fool, Aemond Targaryen.” Dahlia scoffs, “I hope this is the bloodloss talking.”

“What did you say?” Y/n furrows her brows, “Dahlia..?”

“He didn’t want to risk hurting your brother. That he rather he be the one hurt and not your brother. Come, let us reassure your little brother that he hasn’t killed your beloved.” Dahlia lies smoothly, nodding her head at Aemond.

Y/n looks between Dahlia and Aemond unsure, chewing on her bottom lip. She didn’t know enough High Valyrian to understand what the two of them were discussing. But, she trusted Dahlia enough to take her word for it. Opening her mouth to speak, Aemond grabs onto her hand, stopping her. Looking down at Aemond, her cheeks flushing involuntarily, her heart was pounding frantically in her chest. She wanted him to keep on looking at her like that.

“Go..” He nods, "I will be fine."

#hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #house of dragons x reader #house of the dragon imagines #house of dragons #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd x reader #hotd

651 notes · View notes

rinhaler · 5 months

Text

MY BOYFRIEND'S BACK, AND HE'S COOLER THAN EVER!

CHAPTER SUMMARY : Bags are packed, parents are disappointed, and Chigiri has arrived to ride up to the Itoshi family cabin together !

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol mention.

WORDS : 4k

notes : me vs wanting to fuck almost everyone in the cabin 😩

LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

“Ready to go?” Chigiri asks, coming inside to assess the situation. He looks at your enormous suitcase and several travel bags before looking back at you with a quirked brow. You look away from him quickly, pretending something on your phone has caught your attention. “You know we’re only going for a week, right?”

“I want to be prepared!”

“It’s crazy,” he laughs, “because I know that somehow you’re gonna come home with more things than you left with.”

“Not true! Your birthday presents are in here!” you smile, shaking the large gift bag in your hand. He tries to take it from you to peak at what’s inside, but you move it out of his reach.

He pouts.

You pout harder.

“Fine, I’ll carry the heavy suitcase. Even though it’s my birthday week.”

“Thank you Chigs~!”

“Don’t call me that~!” he repeats in your sing-song voice.

You laugh, picking up another bag and carrying it to the car. You load them into the back before rushing into your house again and getting the last few bags. He takes them for you, allowing you to lock the door. If you’d had more warning, you definitely would have gotten a house sitter. But you’re trying not to worry about that, you just want to get on the road and leave all of your worries behind.

Worries, including your family. The family who are less than impressed that you’re abandoning them to spend a boozy week with friends instead of them. You don’t care, though. You delivered their gifts and wished them well.

It’s stupid, really, that they’re so frustrated that you won’t be spending time with them. You can’t stomach spending time with your dad and his new girlfriend. He knows you can’t control your face and you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

You inherited that from him.

Your mother however, was devastated when you told her. You figured she’d be okay since she has a larger family to spend the holidays with. But you’re her only child, you suppose you are being a little selfish.

It’s something you have to do though, you feel. You’re not over Rin and you don’t want to spend Christmas with family grieving what should have been you and him spending the day together. This way, you get to actually have fun. It’s not forced or superficial to keep up appearances for your relatives.

No one is going to expect anything of you at the cabin.

“I’m proud of you,” Chigiri smiles, looking at you briefly before focusing back on the road. You scoff, turning the radio up in the car, Mariah Carey blasting through the speakers. You both groan before he hands you the aux cord. “Not in a cringe way. I just mean, I know you’re a people pleaser. So I’m impressed that you put yourself over your parents.”

“Ugh, they were both so disappointed in me. I spent thousands on presents for them both. I even got some toys for my stepdad’s ratty step-kids. What more can I do?”

“God they are ratty.”

“They’re giving Damien from The Omen.” you tell him, both of you laughing loudly as one of your playlists plays softly through the speaker. You turn it up a little, both of you whooping as you hear Boss Bitch by Doja Cat play. “I know I was shitting myself when Sae texted, but I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too, I was dreading spending my birthday with your miserable ass.” he chuckles and you slap his arm lightly. “Wait! I know you’re still down about Rin, so, this will be a fun distraction. Plus I bet you end up hooking up with one of Sae’s friends, you haven’t had your rebound yet.”

“I am not doing another footballer, I can’t.” you shake your head.

You both laugh lightly and carry on chatting about the events to come. It’s like a weeklong party, essentially. And ever since you’ve known Chigiri, you’ve both loved a party. But it’s never actually the party itself.

The days before a party are always the best. Whether you’re hosting or attending, it’s always exciting. A theme is always ideal but not essential. Either way, you’ll spend weeks talking about it. Who’s going? What will you wear? What are you gonna drink?

You go on numerous shopping trips and buy endless amounts of clothes until you find the perfect outfit. Only to wear it that night and never again. But it’s worth it, every time. Hearing people compliment how gorgeous you look never gets old.

No one’s words meant more to you than Rin’s, though. The way he’d rest his hand in the small of your back while showing you off made you feel like a princess. He’d whisper sweet nothings about how you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and the things he wanted to do to you when you got home. It made your legs weak and your face flush with heat. And yet, he was always so calm. So cool. He liked to rile you up and pay you no mind as you look up at him expectantly. Acting as if he hadn’t said something so salacious and lewd while chatting with guests.

It drove you wild.

But, truthfully, where your best friend is concerned, your favourite part of a party is the morning after. If he spent the night at your place, especially. You’d wait for him to message you to let you know he’s awake and leave Rin’s side while he was snoring softly. Hyoma can’t handle his drink, and you’re no better. You’d crawl into bed with him and burrow under the duvet after handing him some water and painkillers.

Hungover or not, though, you loved gossiping with him. You’d trade stories about what happened throughout the night and things you heard. It made your day; it made the hangover worth it.

And now, you’re driving towards a week’s worth of that.

You groan as the song changes from Doja Cat to Lust for Life by Lana Del Rey.

“Nope!” he objects, “What kind of psychopath has Doja and Lana on the same playlist?” Chigiri asks, skipping the song. You throw your head back against the headrest, sighing as you think about Rin, again.

The album featuring the eponymous song is one of the first gifts Rin gave you. In vinyl form, of course, along with a pink record player. You had a record player already, but you told him a few times that you’d always wanted a pink one. It was a birthday gift, you remember crying so much as you unwrapped it.

“And I thought we could listen to this together.” you reminisce on him telling you as he handed the album to you. You told him you’d never listened to it before when you were going through her discography. It was a throwaway comment you didn’t think he’d even remember.

You cried listening to the self-titled song, wrapped up in his arms as he held you close. Truthfully, you’ve never felt so loved. And unfortunately, you don’t think you will again. You told him, repeatedly, how in love with him you were.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you after that.

“I need to make a new playlist.” you sigh, Chigiri nods, agreeing. “You’re right, Doja and Lana on the same playlist is psycho behaviour.”

“And you’re only just realising this?” he laughs again.

“I bet he’s got a new girlfriend now. Girls always threw themselves at him, even when we were together.” you tell him. “Oh my God, I miss him. I miss him so much I feel sick. I can’t do this.”

“Shut up.” he tells you, sternly, “I haven’t seen anything on his socials about a girlfriend, but that’s none of your business anymore anyway.”

“You’re still on his socials?”

“… anyway…”

“You know how private he is, Hyoma. If he’s seeing someone he wouldn’t post about her.”

“He posted you.” he reminds you, and you shrug defeatedly. “Besides, you broke up with him. You ended things and you’re still heartbroken. Imagine how depressed he probably is. He’s a workaholic, too. He’s probably distracting himself with work, not girls.”

Hyoma always knows what to say. Deep down, you knew that. But you never would have thought about it until he said. It was a miracle that he even asked you out, after all. His friends never failed to tell you how surprised they were. He’s too focused on football to bother with girls.

But you… you were different.

“You’re self-sabotaging, idiot.” Chigiri tells you. “We’ll get there, we’ll have fun, and you won’t think about Rin at all. I’m banning Rin talk for the rest of the week.”

“Fine fine fine.” you relent, shaking your body in an attempt to dispel any further thoughts of your ex. Though, to be honest, Sae might make it hard to not think about or discuss him. He’s his brother, after all. You can’t expect him to not talk about his little brother. And you certainly can’t ask him not to. “You’re gonna love the cabin. It’s huge. And there’s a lake we can ice skate on.”

“Perfect, can’t wait.”

There are several cars parked outside as you pull up. Chigiri parks, but is frozen in place as he looks at the cabin. It’s clear that the place is not what he expected. You end up leaving him alone to process his thoughts as he drinks it in. It’s the closest he’ll get to feeling like a celebrity, he suspects.

He follows you out, rushing to help you lift your suitcase as you struggle under the weight of it. You smile, gratefully, as he drags it towards the cabin. You decide to pick up his much smaller suitcase as well as all of your other bags. It isn’t hard to keep up with him as he struggles to pull your luggage through the snow.

“This isn’t a cabin. I was expecting a log shack with a few amenities. This is a mansion.” Chigiri tells you as you walk by his side. You giggle, agreeing, you felt exactly the same way the first time you came here with Rin.

You walk up the stairs ahead of him and knock on the door, starting to shiver as the biting winter air begins to attack you.

Chigiri manages to get your suitcase to the top of the stairs before anyone even knows you’ve knocked. He’s cold, tired, and impatient, and decides to ring the doorbell. You can both hear music playing inside.

It gets louder once the door swings open, and you see a familiar face.

“Oh hey, are you the little sister?” Oliver asks, forgetting that you’ve met before. You assume that’s how Sae has been referring to you as when talking to his friends, so, you nod. He smiles at Chigiri and takes your heavy suitcase from him, lifting it with ease as he welcomes you in. “They’re all in the lounge, grab yourselves a drink from the kitchen.” he tells you, winking as he sets down your case with all of the others at the bottom of the stairs.

There’s a lot of luggage, though the amount seems to double when you and Chigiri put the rest of yours down. You aren’t sure how many people must be here, but the nerves are setting in.

“She’s cute!” you hear Oliver tell the group as he goes into the lounge, it’s quiet, but you hear it clearly.

“You’ve met her before, idiot.” you hear Sae tell him, his voice getting closer to you as he comes to greet you. “Hey you.” he smiles, hugging you and placing a soft kiss on your cheek. You hug him back, feeling surprisingly calmer as you allow yourself to melt into his embrace.

You aren’t sure why, but you were worried he’d be weird with you when he saw you in person. This is only the second time you’ve seen him since you and Rin split, after all. The first was a coffee date to explain your side of things face to face. You’re happy you decided to keep in contact with Sae, he’s been so sweet and supportive through it all.

So, really, you aren’t sure why you expected him to be off with you.

Especially since he invited you here.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Sae smiles at Chigiri, holding his hand out to shake, which he does. “Your birthday is on the 23rd, yeah? We’ll plan something fun.”

“Being here is fun enough, don’t worry.” Hyoma responds, looking around. “This isn’t a cabin, by the way.” he laughs.

Sae laughs too, walking back towards the lounge. “Come meet everyone.” he insists. You and Chigiri look at each other, but follow.

You’re the only girl here, by the looks of things. You aren’t sure if that’ll change or not though. Maybe they all have partners who are arriving together later. You’re a little surprised by the headcount, you were expecting more. Including Sae, there’s only four of them sitting around the fire, drinking together.

“Apparently we’ve met before?” Oliver’s brows knot in contemplation, and you nod. “Sorry, sweetheart. Normally I don’t forget a pretty face.”

“Yeah ya do, bullshitter.” Tabito snickers, looking up at you from his seat on the floor. You’ve never met Karasu, but you’ve heard a lot about him. Mostly from Rin about when they used to play together. And you may or may not have stalked his socials before, so you’re familiar with his face. “Nice to meet’cha, heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.” you smile.

“Do you smoke?” you hear another voice speak as you get further into the room. Your eyes lie on Eita Otoya as he pulls a blunt from behind his ear, and you shake your head. You’re surprised to see them letting loose like this, though you suppose they mustn’t get the chance to often.

Rin found it hard to relax and unwind. He’s always been so career focused, never wanting to do anything to harm his reputation. And you understand that, you do. You’re the same, really. You have an image to maintain, people seem to think being a model is just turning up and looking pretty. But you take it seriously, like Rin.

Though he doesn’t seem to know how to turn it off.

“No Ryusei?” you ask, a little surprised he couldn’t make it.

“Not yet, he should be here soon.” Sae assures you. You laugh, knowing you’re in for a really fun week once Shidou gets here. Sae turns back to look at you, taking you back to the entrance. “I’ll show you to your rooms. Did you want to share? There’s enough for everyone to have their own.”

“She snores, I’ll take my own.” Hyoma tells Sae, earning a smirk from him. You try to argue, but your best friend seems to be too convincing. The rest of the guys join you, offering to help with your bags and carry them up to your room.

And, really, who are you to say no?

Chigiri rolls his eyes, carrying his own case and entering the room Sae had planned for him. You realise Sae is sleeping in the master bedroom downstairs when you see all of the other rooms have been claimed by sneakers and jackets from the other guests, all of them are just too lazy to bring their luggage up.

Though none of them had a problem helping with yours.

Your heart sinks when you realise Sae saved your usual room for you to take. The room you always shared with your ex whenever he brought you here. The guys don’t give you much time to feel sorrowful, though. Not when they’re laughing and joking beside you. Sae notices your forlorn expression, pulling you aside slightly.

“I thought you’d feel comfortable in here, but we can switch if you want.” he tells you, but you shake your head. “Ryusei will be in the opposite room so I’m sure you won’t be thinking about anything other than how annoying he is.” he smiles.

“Thank you, Sae.” you smile, albeit a little weakly. It’s bittersweet, that’s all. “At least I have the best view.” you tell him, opening the doors to the large balcony that looks over the lake. You think about how the nearby town’s lights twinkle at night.

“Right.” he puts a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. “Everyone out, let’s leave her to unpack.” Sae announces, ushering the other three men out of the room.

You smile, waving at them all as they leave. Once they’re out, Sae closes the door behind himself and leaves you alone with your thoughts. As much as you want to sit and dwell on things, you decide to occupy your mind and unpack instead.

You’re startled, a little, when Chigiri comes in to see you. Though you’re relieved when he starts to help.

“You did not need to bring all of this.” he grabs a gold glittery mini stress and holds it up. “I— I’ve never seen this in my life. Oh my God, did you buy new clothes for this? You are trying to get a rebound.”

“No I’m—”

“Yeah, you are.” he stops you immediately. “I’ve been stalking all of their socials in my room, they’re all single. And they all had their tongues hanging out for you when you came in.”

“You work too fast.” you laugh. He shrugs, grabbing a few items of clothing and hanging them up in the wardrobe for you.

You’re thankful for his help, it goes a lot quicker than it would have otherwise. Plus you get to gossip about the week ahead. You try and dodge his questions, but your facial expressions always give you away. You have quite a good poker face, but it doesn’t matter when it comes to Chigiri. He has a way of making you shy and giggly when you’re trying to keep a secret.

“Which one?” he asks, and you tut. “I feel like they’re all your type.” he tells you, handing you your toothbrush to take to the ensuite.

“They are.” you laugh from the other room. You return, zipping up your case and pushing it away. “I’ve always had the hots for Ryusei low key though, but I think Rin would be livid.”

“Rin isn’t here and he’s not our problem.” Chigiri smiles. You both sit on top of your bed and flop backwards with a sigh. He turns his head to the side to look at you while you’re too busy disassociating, staring at the ceiling. “Don’t just do it because you feel like you have to, by the way.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “Oh, rebound.”

He nods, “We’re here to have fun. So, if you’re going to fuck one of them, do it because it’s fun.”

“I won’t.” you agree. “I’m worried about feeling guilty too… they’re Rin’s friends, after all. I don’t want to upset him.”

As Chigiri is about to respond, he’s stopped by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You smile, widely, when you realise Ryusei is here. Hyoma knows all about Ryusei. His feral replacement whenever Rin used to take you around the world for his away games.

Hyoma isn’t jealous, of course. Especially when he knew you had a little crush on Ryusei. You and Hyoma have only ever been friends, and you’ll never be closer to anyone than you are with each other.

“Should we wait a few minutes so I don’t look desperate?” you ask, sitting upright and resting your bodyweight on one hand as you look down at him.

“Yeah.” he nods.

You nod too. You start lying back down, slowly, looking around at the room as you do. “I can’t.” you tell him, jumping off the bed and heading towards the door. He sighs, but hurries after you.

All of the guests are gathered in the entryway as they greet Ryusei. They exchange hugs and handshakes as they all chat and catch up. You descend the stairs slowly, but not fully, standing at the halfway point with Chigiri as you watch the scene unfold.

His bright smile turns to a look of wonder when he notices you. Eyes softening as he realises you’re here, you’re really here.

“No way…” he smirks, “Hey, kid, how are ya?”

“I’m good,” you nod, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “And you? How are you, Ryu?”

“Better for seeing you,” he laughs. “Didn’t know you were comin’.”

“Shut the door, man, it’s freezing.” Sae tells him, approaching to do it for him. But Ryusei stops him, keeping him at arm’s length so he can’t.

“I actually picked someone up on the way.” Ryusei announces, side stepping a little as he waits for the mystery guest to hurry. Chigiri’s eyes widen in horror, the realisation hitting him before anyone else as he looks at you. You’re too busy feeling deflated that Ryusei has brought a girl along with him.

“Oh no.” Chigiri speaks, and you look at him. “We should go back upstairs.”

“What? Why?” you ask him, confused. Though your attention is forced back downstairs when you see another figure enter the cabin out of your peripheral view.

Your heart sinks.

“Rin?” Sae asks as he watches his younger, yet for some reason taller, brother set down his suitcase.

Your heart keeps plummeting deeper through your body as you watch him, too. God, he looks even better than he did the day you ended things. He’s always been striking, beautiful. Just so God damn handsome. But he looks older, more mature.

You feel your breathing get heavier and more intense the longer you watch him. The way he dusts the snow from his expensive looking coat. And that familiar ruffle of his hair as he fixes it into place.

“You said you weren’t coming.” Sae tells him.

“I changed my mind,” Rin responds, gesturing to Ryusei. “He begged, really.”

Sae holds his eyes shut, sighing. Rin isn’t sure what the issue is. He was invited, after all, he just declined. He expected his brother to be happy to see him, he thought it would be a fun surprise. Though maybe he only invited him out of obligation.

Shidou hadn’t made it seem that way, though.

“Look who’s here.” Ryusei smiles, pointing up at you.

Rin’s weak smile drops to a stoic straight line as he follows his friends directional finger and his sights land on you. You’re frozen. You can’t smile. You can’t say hello. You can’t even wave. You’re just staring at each other, both absolutely paralysed with no idea how to act.

“H— Hi…” you struggle to speak. Hyoma is thankful you’re too distracted looking at Rin to see the way he’s cringing horrendously behind your back, but not showing his face to the lower floor.

“Hey.” Rin responds, even smiling a little when he hears your voice. It’s been so long, after all. “I didn’t know you were coming.” he explains.

“Same…” you tell him, hoping he believes you. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew you were coming. Wait—” you interrupt yourself when you realise how horrible that sounded.

“Stop talking.” Hyoma whispers, and you clear your throat.

Everyone else seems to see the funny side, all except Rin. He appears a little downtrodden, though he disguises it well. You know him, though. You’re sure he knows you didn’t mean it how it sounded, but you can’t help feeling a little guilty.

“You made it very clear you weren’t coming, Rin.” Sae tells him. “If you said you were coming I—”

“It’s fine. I didn’t know you were still talking, though.” Rin says, the annoyance in his voice very evident. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully trying to hurt you or if it’s just Rin being Rin. “But we’re adults. I’m sure we can co-exist for a week, right?” he asks, looking at you with his intense, teal gaze.

“R—Right…”

295 notes · View notes

vanwritesfan-fiction · 10 months

Text

Video Star (Request)

Travis is a star on the field, but is he just as good as your music video love interest?

Words: 1,672

Warnings: implied smut, language, DNI if under 18

“Ok, last thing to go over. We need you to choose the love interest for your music video.” Your manager handed you a piece of paper with a list of names on it. “These are all of the people who have availability over the next couple of months. We tried to pick people from different areas; athletes, a couple of models, even a musician in the mix.” You were getting ready to shoot the music video for your new song “Woman” off of your sophomore album. “Are we still going with the club scene? We need someone who can actually dance, I don’t want a repeat of last year.” Your manager nodded in agreement, jotting down notes furiously. You had chosen a model for one of your other music videos last year, and while he was extremely attractive and photogenic, he couldn’t dance worth shit and it showed on camera. You still cringe at the YouTube comments till this day.

You scanned the list, and no one caught your eye until you got to Travis Kelce. “Wait, Travis said yes? Isn’t he dating someone?” Your manager pulled up something on her phone, flipping it so you could read the headline. “Travis Kelce breaks up with longtime girlfriend Kayla Nicole.” You shrugged. You had met Travis a couple of times through work commitments, and you were a fan of his, so he seemed like the best bet. “Ok, Kelce will work. I want to meet with him before we shoot. Make sure the chemistry is there.” You handed the paper back to your manager who immediately got Travis’ team on the phone to set up a meeting.

Between your hectic schedule and Travis’ football games, you didn’t get a chance to meet up for a couple of weeks. Finally, Travis was going to be in New York for a game against the Jets and had a day off where you could grab lunch together. You rarely traveled with more than person at one time, your manager usually tagging along to your business meetings, but you asked her not to come this time because you didn’t want this to feel like work. You and Travis were going to get very “intimate” in this music video and while it was all for show, you needed it to be convincing. If the chemistry wasn’t there, no amount of editing was going to make it a good music video. You watched from the restaurant window as Travis stepped out of a taxi across the street and hustled over to the restaurant. You were surprised that he didn’t arrive with an entourage of people, and definitely expect him to take a taxi to meet you. You looked down at what you were wearing, a simple black sweater and jeans. Travis was dressed to the nines in a full suit. Forgoing the tie, a bit of his chest hair peaked out of the slightly unbuttoned white-collar shirt he was wearing. Fuck, you were going to seem like you weren’t taking this seriously at all.

He waved at you from the hostess stand and you blushed, his perfect smile making you weak in the knees. When he arrived at the table, you stood up to give him a side hug, taking in his clean cologne scent. He shrugged his suit jacket off and settled into his seat as you fixed your sweater. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late. I don’t know how to get around New York at all.” You giggled, reassuring him with a smile. “Don’t worry about it, I just got here myself.” You opened your menu, perusing the options. You looked up after a few minutes and saw that Travis was staring at you. “Something wrong? I tried to pick a place that had a variety of options. My manager was telling me that I can be a food snob.” You were rambling, your cheeks heating up as Travis just smiled as you talked. Nothing is wrong with the restaurant. You just look really good tonight. Just admiring what’s in front of me.” The restaurant must have moved to the surface of the sun because you were burning up. “Wow, does that work on girls usually?” Travis threw his head back with a laugh. “No, but you looked so tense, I had to lighten the mood.” He shook his shoulders which made you chuckle.

Dinner quickly turned into a back and forth of stories and jokes. You were quickly building feelings for Travis, and who could blame you. He was funny, humble, and completely professional. He never made you feel uncomfortable or tried to hit on you, which was rarely the case with professional athletes.

“So, tell me what I have to do. I’m all yours.” You squeezed your thighs together at that remark, thoughts of every way you could take advantage of his generosity. “Um,” you took a sip of your drink, “we’re working with one of my favorite producers. The song is called “Woman”, it’s all about wanting to be the woman your man needs and basically seducing him through different scenes. I do want to warn you though, there is a scene where we’ll need you to dance.” You grimaced after telling Travis the concept, thinking he was going to want to back out, but he just sat there taking in the concept. “I for sure thought the dancing thing would throw you off.” “You obviously haven’t seen my touchdown celebrations. I’ve got hips that would make a salsa dancer jealous.”

When the day of the shoot arrived, you were more nervous than you thought you’d be. Your mind had been on that dinner ever since, and you had been texting back with Travis, mostly about work and the video, but he so effortlessly slid in flirty comments that gave you butterflies. You were falling for him but weren’t sure if he had similar feelings or was just a natural flirt. You decided to brush it off so you could have a successful shoot.

Travis arrived early to the set, and after you both got done with hair and makeup, you headed to the first scene, the sensual bedroom shot. You begged the producer to shoot this one first in case it went terribly, making the rest of the day would be a waste. You were both standing in the set, white robes covering your scantily clad body. You were in a leather bikini ensemble while Travis was shirtless with jeans on. “I’ve never been in a music video before.” Travis rubbed his hands together as the make-up artist took off his robe and did some quick makeup touch ups on his chest. You dropped your robe to reveal your outfit, and it took everything in Travis not to drool on the spot. You were used to wearing ridiculous outfits for music videos and performances, but you could definitely feel Travis’ eyes on you as he watched you get onto the bed.

“Alright Travis, for this scene, we’re looking for heat and passion, like the two of you haven’t seen each other for months and the sexual tension is about to erupt.” The director guided Travis through the scene. You gave Travis a funny face, mouthing that the director was a little crazy, which made him laugh. The director queued the music, which began blaring through the speakers. Travis was a natural, climbing over you, ghosting kisses over your body as he made his way up to your lips. You tried to find a place to put your hands that seemed natural, ending up hooking your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. You hoped that Travis couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. You locked lips and for a second, you couldn’t hear anything but the breaths between the two of you. You pulled away, bringing yourself back to reality as the director yelled cut. You struggled to get up, the leather of your shorts slipping against the silk sheets on the bed. Your knee accidently brushed against Travis as you rolled over, and you could feel a growing bulge in his jeans.

He immediately noticed and his eyes were extremely apologetic. You grabbed his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Dave, can we take a 15-minute break? I have to go pee and I have to be cut out of these shorts.” The director nodded before announcing to the crew. The short break would give Travis a chance to “collect” himself, and he hustled out of the room after a quiet thank you towards you. You looked for Travis and found him in his dressing room, head in his hands as he sat in front of the mirror. You gave a courteous knock on the door and peaked your head in. “Hey, can I come in?” You took his silence as approval. You sat at the chair next to his, not sure what to say. Travis broke the silence. “No question about our chemistry now, huh?” you laughed, glad he was able to see the humor in the situation. “I don’t think there was ever a question, but a girl always loves a bit of reassurance.”

You both sat in a comfortable silence before you heard a knock on the door calling you back to set. “The director said he got what he needed for the bedroom shot so we don’t have to shoot that scene anymore”, you reassured Travis. “No way. I need to redeem myself, I can be better.” You patted his shoulder. “This isn’t football, no need to redeem yourself, they’ll cut the scenes together, make it look amazing.” You began walking out of the room when Travis stopped you. “At least let me make it up to you. Show you my bedroom skills in private.” You turned back to him, rolling your eyes with a smile. “Is that your way of asking me on a date?” “Technically we went on a date two weeks ago, so this is me asking you on a second date.”

#travis kelce fluff #travis kelce fic #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce #traviskelce #nfl smut #nfl fan fic #nfl fic #nfl fluff #nfl imagine

451 notes · View notes

shieldofiron · 1 month

Text

Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977

Part 1/3 Also on Ao3 here

For @harringrove-relay-race. Very happy with how part 1 turned out, and there will be more to come. Thanks to @foxxtastic for the intro and next up will be something stunning from our fearless Relay Race leader @half-oz-eddie

Rated M / 5k words / Part 1/3

Part 1: Into Hades

Rolling Stone Magazine - May 2002

Billy Hargrove arrived after I did, in his lovingly maintained blue Camaro, the subject of his song, “Lady Blue.” “Lady Blue” was recently named #93 on Rolling Stone’s Top Love Songs of the Century.

“I wrote, ‘She’s the wind in my hair, the rumble in my soul.’ I thought it was so obvious,” He laughed, his blue eyes still boyish. “My niece made it her wedding song, I said ‘Really? It’s about a fuckin’ car!’”

He showed me several pictures of his niece, the supermodel Tyler Sinclair. It seems good looks run in the family. He suggested the diner and he ordered waffles, winking when I mentioned that we’ll be here a long time.

The decades have been kind to him, maybe a few more lines. It’s not hard to imagine him stepping right back onto the stage, as if no time has passed at all.

“A little extra glitter on the eyes,” He said with a smile, “to hide my crows feet. That’s all I need.”

I ask what he’s going to wear to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Kaleidoscope's induction and his smile dims only for a moment.

“I think I should pull out some old costumes. You know, the butterfly still fits.”

He was referring, of course, to the sheer butterfly cape costume that nearly had him thrown off the stage in Houston Texas in December 1976. He caved to putting on a pair of silvery shorts rather than the nude underwear it was designed with. He later wore it with the nude underwear on the inside cover of Kaleidoscope, the album that will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in just a few short weeks. Kaleidoscope was his last album with the iconic Glam Rock band Pretty Boy, which famously broke up at the height of their career while touring for the album, onstage.

It’s not often that a band is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and there’s a question if all of them will even show up.

“I’ll be there,” Hargrove said, fiddling with the silver band on his middle finger. “I have no problem with seeing him.”

The him is, of course, the lead guitarist and other lead singer of Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington invites me to his oceanfront house in Malibu later that afternoon.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to go,” He said thoughtfully, his brown eyes darting around the room.

When I mention that Billy is going to go, he seems surprised.

“He didn’t say he was going to punch me, did he?” Harrington smiled, but it doesn’t seem like much of a joke.

For one of the most famous rock stars of the 70s, Harrington is shockingly low key. He wears a t-shirt and slouchy linen pants, and he jokes that he ought to have shaved when I take out my camera. The house is stunning but empty, with miles of blank white walls and overstuffed white furniture.

“I’m looking for a little peace,” He shrugs, “I used to have all these pictures up, all this furniture… It was too much.”

It was hard not to see him as an artist without a muse. He drifted listlessly, picking things up and putting them down as we talked. So it was a surprise to me to hear that he’s been recording.

“I may never release it but… Yeah,” He laughed, “Music. After all this time. Bet you didn’t know.”

He picks up a rare photo from the piano. It’s from the early days of Pretty Boy, before Billy Hargrove. Harrington has his arm around his bandmate, Eddie Munson. Their drummer Chrissy Cunningham is balanced precariously across their shoulders, laughing and cringing at the same time. Bassist Robin Buckley smirks from the corner of the frame, messy bangs in her eyes.

“Who knew, right?” He asked no one, shaking the frame a little.

There are no pictures of Billy Hargrove.

“That’s a… a long story,” He said, when I asked.

But I have time. I tell him Rolling Stone will pay for it. At least that makes him laugh.

It was just by chance that Pretty Boy’s last concert was filmed.

“We were meant to just film in Vegas,” The director, Argyle Molina-Zapata, sat down with me after a private screening of Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977, “But there was a freak rainstorm, and I couldn’t get my camera’s out of the back. The crowd was digging it, refused to leave. I remember when Billy hit the high note for ‘Mother Make Me,’ there was this lightning crack… brilliant.”

Molina-Zapata shook his head, “But the footage, what I got of it, was awful. Awful! So I begged Murray to let me come with them to Santa Fe.”

Murray was Murray Bauman, famed tour manager, who handled the Boys, later Pretty Boy from their first album Starfire, all the way to Kaleidoscope.

“And I was lucky,” Argyle nodded, “They had that extra tour bus.”

The tour busses are featured in the first few minutes of the film. They roll around the corner, one reading Billy Blue (Billy’s original stage name was Billy Blue before he dropped the Blue), and the other, Steve’s Six (Named after Steve’s best friends from his hometown.)

“They were nightmares,” Murray Bauman’s voice crackled over the phone, “Nightmares on tour. Separate buses. Separate hotels. Fuck me, I swear to god at one point they wanted separate stages. And the label caved on almost all of it. Fucking nightmare.”

It’s almost impossible to imagine it when you see them on stage together. There’s something electric that passed between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, something that drove crowds wild. They gravitate towards each other on the stage, orbiting like planets until they can share the same mic. They can’t seem to stay apart.

It’s hard to see exactly what happened that night.

“I’ve watched it a million times,” Argyle laughed, “But the only two people who can really say what happened are Billy and Steve.”

What you can see is this: Steve tearing into “Pride & Prejudice”, the lead off Kaleidoscope and the last song of the night.

Billy was trembling, visibly shaking as he sang and Steve harmonized along.

What can I say, if you ask me to walk away?

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Billy danced closer, joining Steve, his handheld mic loose at his side.

Can you ever put away your pride?

Is it worth it to not have me at your side?

I guess it must be, because I’m yours,

Regretfully,

Baby.

Billy leans in, sharing Steve’s mic for the bridge.

Is it really a mystery?

What I mean to you, and you mean to me?

Is it really, baby?

Billy shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked into Steve's eyes. He smiled. Steve looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. It almost looks like Billy mouths something, but bootleg footage also has appeared where it looks like Billy just nodded. Steve goes a little shell shocked, hand freezing on his guitar, falling out of sync.

And then Steve turned away and left the stage, handing his guitar to a stagehand. Billy turned to the crowd, his expression strangely triumphant. He was always magnetic on stage, but this moment transcends that. It somehow feels like he’s getting everything he wants.

So I guess I’m losing you,

You promised me you would and it’s true.

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Steve Harrington hasn’t performed in public since 1977.

“None of us knew what was going to happen that night,” Chrissy Cunningham curled up next to her husband, Eddie Munson, on the large white couch of their Seattle home.

They’re a handsome couple still, draped in rock and roll finery. He toyed with the edge of her scarf, and she curled his long hair around her long fingers.

“We had some of our own shit going on at the time so…” Munson shrugged, “Maybe we were distracted.”

Their living room was crowded and verdant, every spare flat surface covered in plants. Their partner, former record executive Jason Carver, puttered in the kitchen in an apron that read Plant Papa.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled, “We had some stuff going on at the same time. But still… It seemed like they were getting better. Didn’t it seem like they were getting better?”

Munson shrugged, “The thing about Billy and Steve… they were soulmates. You don’t write music like that and not… it was like they had a second language, just for them. They were soulmates, I really believe that. Everything they did, everything that happened… they could only hurt each other that badly if… yeah.”

When I ask what they did to each other, Eddie and Chrissy just scooted closer together, like teenagers in a slasher, hiding from the killer. She laid a hand over his leg, her two stone diamond ring catching the sunlight.

“Steve never wanted Billy to be in the band,” Eddie shook his head, “but Jim had a soft spot for Billy. And Steve had… I mean Jim was…”

“Jim was like a father. To all of us.” Chrissy’s knee jiggled.

“We were this little tiny band from Nowhere, Indiana,” Eddie nodded, “And Jim believed in us.”

“I was just a junior exec at the time. I was put on the Kaleidoscope tour in case of catastrophic failure, which by the way it was,” Jason Carver is making risotto while we speak, the steam curling the lock of hair that falls over his face. “But it wasn’t my fault although I was high as hell on coke half the time. I guess I deserved to get fired. But Jim was the real deal. Gold records out the ass, best wife in the world, and his daughter, I mean… she was something else.”

They’re referring, of course, to Jim Hopper, producer on Kaleidoscope as well as Billy Blue and The Boys’ records, and the father of pop superstar Eleven aka Jane Hopper.

“Jim was…” Steve Harrington’s eyes always got a little misty talking about Jim, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah, I guess he was a little like my dad. My own parents were always gone. Which is like… I grew up so privileged so like I’m not saying… I just mean I grew up mostly by myself. And we were just so lucky he even agreed to listen to us when we got to LA.”

“I remember that night,” Joyce Hopper’s voice was raspy, cigarette-y in the way only old movie stars are. She’s a gorgeous woman in jeans and a gardening hat, speaking to me while she tends to her garden at her home in Castellammare. “He came home and said, ‘I have the next ones, the next big ones. Fuck, Joyce, they’re brilliant. Unpolished, but brilliant.’”

When I ask about when Jim discovered Billy Hargrove she just laughed.

“If Steve and the rest of The Boys were unpolished, Billy Hargrove was a fucking ten carat diamond,” She said. “But Steve’s band was Jim’s, and he could polish them up how he wanted. And then when he thought they were just right for it… he set the diamond.”

Jim Hopper was a big man, larger than life both in appearance and in personality. His fingerprints are all over some of the best hits of the decade.

Watching him on old interviews, there’s an immediacy to his presence that leaps off the screen.

“My daughter is the one who really found him. She snuck out with her sister and wandered God knows where. And she just… found him. Called me the next morning, saying ‘Dad, you have to hear this guy.’ He was playing in this… terrible club,” Jim said, tapping his cigar on the table of Merv Griffin’s set. “Absolute shithole, pardon my french. And he’s got a great voice, you’ve heard his voice, right?”

“I have,” Merv said.

“I had to get him out of there. He was a star.”

Billy Hargrove was a teenage runaway from San Diego when he came to LA in 1971.

“I had a girl’s backpack from my stepsister, eight dollars, and an extra pair of underwear. By the end of the next week? I had two more dollars,” Billy laughed. “But I got lucky. I met Heather.”

Heather Holloway was a showgirl at Wildwoods, a nightly revue. She found Billy at the backdoor, and took him to her apartment.

“She saved me,” He frowned. “Whenever I needed her most.”

Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove’s first and only wife, died in 1979.

“I got a job singing at Sugar, this great gay club downtown. It was in the late afternoons, so I had a crowd of about… two. But those two brought two more,” Billy smiled, “Heather would talk me up to all the promoters. He’s a singer, he’s great, you’ll love him, he’s so cute.”

“He was an instant hit,” Sugar’s manager, Bob Newby, tells me by phone as well. “I did have to keep a couple of creeps off him, when he just started he was only nineteen. But even if you closed your eyes… he was a hit.”

“Guys used to think that because I was a part of the entertainment, I was fair game. And let me tell you, the novelty of that wears off mighty quick,” Billy shakes his head.

He shares a diary entry from his late wife of a night in April 1972. He came to her home with blood all over his face.

“Some guy thought because I was a fag…” Billy’s mouth twisted, but he went on, cradling the little marble notebook in his hand. “He could do whatever he wanted to me. When I fought back… he cracked a bottle over my head.”

He’s not just a piece of meat. He’s a person. I don’t understand these people. I just don’t understand, Heather Holloway wrote. I cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.

The next diary entry is from a day later. April 12. Billy and I drove to Vegas and got married. When we spoke in the morning he said he was afraid for me too, even though I’m careful with the girls. He’s afraid of the cops trying to bust up the Wildwoods and picking me up. At least this way, he says. He and I can come home to each other. Look out for each other. Always. The groom wore band aids and his great velvet pants. The bride wore lavender. It was perfect.

“And lucky too. Because within a month… I met Jim,” Billy smiled. “And my whole life changed.”

Upside Down Records signed Billy Blue, unagented, in1972 and he spent the next year working on his debut album with Jim Hopper.

“I didn’t even realize, when it happened,” Billy shook his head. “A couple of girls came by after a show, wanting to talk to me, wanting to meet me. That wasn’t that unusual. But they were young, far too young to get into the club. And the little one, she was asking all these weird questions. Did I have an agent? Did I know if I had enough songs for an album? Weird fuckin’ questions. And then she said I have to meet someone. To be honest, I thought she was coked out of her mind when she said, ‘You have to meet my dad.’”

“I was not,” Eleven promised me, “coked out of my mind. But that’s just Billy.”

Eleven aka Jane Hopper, meets me backstage at one of her shows. She’s dressed in slouchy leather pants, to match her sister and drummer Kali Hopper.

“I knew he was something special. My dad was always talking about the IT factor. That thing that made a person something special. But I didn’t get it until I saw Billy Blue singing on that tiny stage,” She smiled. “He didn’t just have the IT factor. He was IT.”

It’s odd then, that Billy Blue’s first album had a surprisingly tepid response. His first single, in 1973, “Let Alone,” came in at only 26th for the month of April on the pop charts.

“People liked it,” Billy shrugs, “But I don’t think they knew what to do with it. You have my songs, these like… little pop love songs and ballads. I wasn’t that strong of a writer at the time. It was like half my songs, half covers. And so they’d book me, expecting fucking… Peter Frampton. And here comes this big queer with glitter on his nipples.”

But the lyrics of “Let Alone” would hint at his later songs, a hallmark simplicity that shone off his raw voice and poetry that hinted at a troubled past.

And if you were meant to care for me

You would, and that’s how it has to be

You said I couldn’t go on without you

Ha, look at me, looking brand new

At the same time, The Boys’ song “Paper Girl,” penned by Harrington, was number one.

She’s my paper girl

Wakes me up every morning, right on time

She got me smiling, got my head in a whirl

Picture perfect, paper girl

“Billy didn’t have much commercial appeal. Sex appeal, yes,” Jason laughed, toying with Chrissy’s hair. “But for sales? That’s where The Boys came in.”

“I hated that name,” Eddie said, “To start with we were half girls.”

The Boys had already had a somewhat successful tour under their belt by the time Jim suggested a collaboration with Billy Hargrove.

“It was a nice, short tour,” Steve Harrington glances away when I ask about the first tour.

“It was a nightmare. Balls to the wall nightmare,” Robin Buckley’s voice is a warm crackle over the phone. “Steve went on like thirty overlapping benders at once.”

Her partner, soap actress Vickie Carmichael cackles behind her, at their home in Salt Lake City.

“The thing about Steve is… well… he’s never found a good way of coping with himself,” Robin huffs. “Music was about as close as he ever got. But in those early days, he just kept looking for more and more.”

“You don’t think it was about-” Vickie asked, just barely into the phone.

“No.”

“It was about Nancy,” Eddie said confidently when I mentioned their first tour. “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.”

The Boys got their start in the late sixties, beginning with Eddie and Steve. Eddie gave Steve guitar lessons, which turned into some talent show performances. They used to practice at Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer.

“That’s where we got the name,” Eddie nodded, “My uncle used to just call us that, and it stuck.”

“I don’t even remember,” Chrissy said.

“That’s not how we got the name,” Steve shook his head, when I mention Eddie. “It was our first gig, after we got Chrissy and Robin. Robin put it down after the headliner kept asking when ‘you boys’ would go on, and kept addressing it to Chrissy’s chest. She blew him out of the fucking water.”

Nancy Wheeler was there that night, writing about local bands for a tiny column in the school paper.

“She was beautiful. Smart. So smart. Could hear her talk forever,” Steve said, eyes falling.

Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were married in 1972 after they graduated high school.

“Steve made his own choices,” Chrissy shook her head.

That summer, the Boys plus one drove to LA and Nancy Wheeler took a job at Women’s Day Magazine and later, Rolling Stone. Steve Harrington and The Boys got a “steady gig” at La Bonita Rosa on the strip, playing for drunks every night from seven to eight.

“I really liked playing at La Bonita,” Steve said. “The audience, right there. You could smell the sweat. You could see on their faces if you were bombing. And we used to bomb. A lot. But it was a great place to try things. Experiment. We played there for about a year but… it felt too short.”

Within the year they had met Jim Hopper, who got them into the recording studio and sold their demo nearly on the spot to Upside Down Records.

“They had a great sound. They had got this way of playing. Smooth like a polished stone. Everything sounds good sitting in a frame like that,” Jim said in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1981. “Their songs were… catchy, but basic. But they had the sound.”

Upside Down records set the Boys on a US tour after “Paper Girl,” and “Joy to Love You,” both charted.

“It was like… overnight. One day we’re in a studio, messing around. Kid stuff. I was nineteen,” Steve Harrington shookhis head. “But…”

“That tour,” Chrissy trails off, playing with her ring again.

“I…” Steve Harrington scratched his nose. “I was losing it. Majorly losing it. It felt like we had just moved to LA and we were already neck deep. I mean, I had a number one fucking song. And for some reason I got it in my head to call my mom. She told the maid she wasn’t home. And I could hear her over the phone. My mom. So yeah. I lost it. Lost about half my damn mind on that tour. And people will say it was because of Nancy, because we got married just out of high school, and she wasn’t supportive… but that wasn’t true. Nancy saved me.”

“Nancy never wanted him to be in the band. But… she also didn’t seem to care that much either,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s… complicated. Love is supposed to be. Simple. Like the chords of a song. 1-3-5.”

Jason Carver rolled his eyes at that, “Then what are we?”

Eddie grinned, “We’re a band.”

Nancy Wheeler met me on a Thursday in New York City, slim sunglasses dominating her small porcelain face. We get lunch at her favorite deli shop, and she perches at the counter, loafers dangling. She’s an editor at The New Yorker now, but she still has a soft spot for rock and roll, as evidenced by the Grateful Dead t-shirt under her blazer.

“That tour. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. He just came home with a funny look on his face, saying, ‘We’re headlining.’ So I said, ‘That’s great, Steve.’ He just kept… saying it. It was starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” She shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong.”

“I wish she had stopped me. But how could you know right? Hindsight is always 2020,” Steve Harrington said. “I mean, she was my wife. How could she not want me home? But that’s just… sorry. That’s not fair to put on her. I chose to go.”

“I flew out to meet them when they were in Indianapolis, visited my family, and I came a day early to see him,” She smiled warmly, and then it fell. “He was… Well, first, Eddie Munson tried to intercept me at the hotel, so I wouldn’t see him. I told him, ‘I’m here to see my fucking husband.’”

Steve Harrington didn’t add any more details about the tour, just shrugged when I asked.

“He was coked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Robin scoffed. “She walked in on him with two girls and coke all over his… well.”

“I just asked him. Do you want to come home? Do you want to get help? Or not?” She purses her lips. “And so he came home and we found a rehab place near Hawkins.”

“The tour kind of… fell apart. Obviously. We had lost our lead singer and guitarist to fucking… Hawkins, Indiana,”

Everything stopped for the Boys. Upside Down offered to let them out of their two album contract, but Steve couldn’t afford to pay it down.

“Rehab,” He shrugged. “Is expensive.”

Right as it seemed that everything would be over for the Boys, things were looking up for Billy Blue.

“Jim was always saying, ‘the record is selling alright, the songs are getting there but he needs a… push,’” Joyce said. “‘He’s so close. So close. He’s a star.’”

“He always believed in me,” Billy smiled, toying with his ring again. “Always. Even when I threw a jug of milk at his head.”

Joyce laughed when I asked about that moment, “He came home saying, ‘He milked me, Joyce. But he’ll fix the song tonight.’”

“And I did,” Billy said. “And the album was going alright. I did a little tour, socal and the southwest. And then one night, Jim brings me this song. He said, ‘I want you to tell me what’s missing from this.’”

The song was, of course, the Boys’ biggest hit, “Hades.” Steve Harrington’s first version was called, “To Orpheus” and the chorus goes:

Don’t turn back don’t look behind you baby

I’m close, I’m right behind

The future's so bright, and I want you to take me

Wanna be holding your hand when I make it across the line.

“It was fine, but just kind of… nothing. It was supposed to be about Eurydice, but it was so… nothing. She just loved Orpheus and that was it. There were no insides to her. She was going to follow him to her doom,” Billy shook his head. “That’s not right.”

This was not the version that made it to the recording booth, of course. The Boys’ single, “Hades featuring Billy Blue,” came out in 1975. The actual chorus goes:

Turn back on me and I won’t forgive you baby

Don’t want you to see me like this

Up ahead is bright, and I want you to take me

If you’re strong enough to cross that finish line

“‘Hades,’ was a real step forward for the Boys. Gone were the teenybopper tunes,” Steve Harrington’s biographer and personal friend Dustin Henderson wrote in his book The Pretty Boy. “Their first album got the kids dancing. But the second proved that they actually had something to say.”

“Still hate it,” Steve Harrington said. “I wrote that song in rehab. It was deeply, deeply personal to me.”

“He came out, all ready. He wanted to start recording right away,” Robin sighed. “Like I mean the next day. All these songs, just pouring out of him. But the label had lost faith in us. And they certainly weren’t going to let us start recording with a guy who had only just earned his thirty day sober chip.”

“The song wasn’t ready,” Billy shook his head. “But I guess he was. Jim said he needed this. So Jim asked if I would come and like… pitch some stuff as a personal favor. Songwriting credit, that’s all it was supposed to be. Get the songs moving, get them going.”

Steve Harrington takes a long time to continue speaking about it.

“I felt it, writing for that album. I felt proud of those songs. They didn’t belong to anyone else but me,” He toyed with some piano keys while we talked, and then finally sat down and began to play something tuneless and half formed.

“That album was all about Nancy,” Chrissy said. “I mean. I know it. You know it. Nancy knew it. And she kind of hated it. But-”

“You can’t leave your husband right as he gets out of rehab,” Nancy said to me, toying with her wedding ring. “When he writes all these songs about how you’re the only thing… Steve was always like that. Heart wide open. That’s why when he met Billy. I almost thought… it would all be okay. That sounds fucked up but. I thought they could save each other. That the music could save him.”

“It was just a songwriting credit,” Billy raised his hands. “Jim swore up and down. I was just gonna come in there and sit down with this guy Steve. But when I walk into the studio, there’s two mics set up.”

“I was the Boys’ only singer,” Steve Harrington shook his head. “And to be absolutely honest, I was kind of a jackass about it. So to have some guy come in and say he’s gonna sing me my song… well…”

“Steve was the only one who would ever argue with Jim, And he let him have it that day,” Eddie laughed. “He called him the most low down, dirty, rat bitten bastard in California, and that he would die rather than give up his band to someone else.”

“I did not want his band. I did not know his band. And I did not care. And his song sucked. And I told him so. And then I sang it. Better.” Billy smiled.

“Billy was…” Chrissy shook her head. “Incredible.”

I ask Steve what Billy was like that first day in the studio.

“He was,” Something passed over his face. “Alright. He has a great voice, alright.”

“I was good. Better. Best.” Billy smiled.

“But he didn’t understand the song. He wanted Eurydice to… doubt. To think she wasn’t going to get out,” Steve slammed his hands on the keys. “It’s been… almost twenty years. I still don’t understand it.”

I asked why he let Billy stay. But Steve doesn’t have an answer.

“They were like oil and water, right away,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, but oil on the water can catch fire,” Eddie shrugged.

“Jim asked me to stay,” Billy looked away from me, down at his waffles. “It was a favor to the label.”

“If Billy said louder, Steve said mute,” Robin snickered. “It was kind of great, actually. Finally someone called King Steve on his shit. One day I came in and they were arguing over how close the microphone should be to your throat. Almost got in a physical fight over a fucking microphone. I mean, I love Steve. But he always thinks he’s like… the babysitter. It’s his job to do everything for everybody.”

“Like who was this guy? Really? He came into my studio with no shirt on, most of the time still half smashed from the night before, and he thinks he can make all these changes. But Jim keeps telling me it’s just business, the label thinks it’s good business.” Steve frowned, and then smiled, and then frowned again.

“Yeah, I never wore shirts back then. Or underwear,” Billy said with a grin. “I was a rockstar!”

“Steve fought for every song on that album,” Nancy Wheeler patted her lips primly with a napkin. “He only lost on one.”

“Billy Hargove has songwriting credit and lead vocals on “Hades.” Dustin Henderson wrote.

“Billy was all over that album. He’d make some minor suggestion, maybe this chord instead of that, this word is better. And Steve would flip out, yell at him, yell at Jim, threaten to storm out… and then two days later quietly tell me to change the chord, he’d start singing the new words. Billy was there with us about every single day,” Eddie said.

“Of course, it was our biggest hit,” Chrissy laughed. “Everything but that song, Steve did what he wanted. Oh we had Billy in the studio, making suggestions. But Steve did what he wanted except for ‘Hades.’ Jim said that song is the album, and he wouldn’t cut it.”

“Jim was always right,” Steve closed the piano. “The bastard.”

Hades exploded onto the radio in late 1975. They didn’t have the same distribution as their first record, but the Boys had another hit.

“Billy had this way of singing it. Still does. He broke four mics when we recorded it. Singing so loud I had to keep an eye on the cymbals to stop them from shaking. You can feel him, right in your chest.” Chrissy giggled. “Like he was trying to wake all the dead from Hades. If anyone could, he could.”

“It’s a really, really great song,” Robin said.

This song belongs to Billy Blue, Rolling Stone wrote in 1976. The only question now is, what will The Boys do next?

“I remember that article. Fucking… Harrington said that he basically wrote the whole song. But he said, ‘the label thought bringing Billy in was a good idea,’” Billy gets tense for the first time. “I’m not saying I was like… I just mean. It would have been nice. To treat me like an equal. I’m more than just a singer. I’m not just… a piece of meat.”

“Billy was really pissed about that article. I remember, the day after the article came out, we were getting breakfast at this tiny place off La Cienega. Steve had this car back then, a big maroon BMW, and Eddie had got him a vanity plate when he bought it. Stupid thing it said, ‘BIGBOY.’ Anyway, We’re having breakfast, and we hear this screech outside, like an accident,” Robin Buckley gets uncharacteristically quiet as she goes on through this story. “Billy’s car is parked halfway out of the parking lot, and he comes in like a bull in a charge. Billy… he wasn’t some wimpy guy. He was small, but he was strong as hell… He came right over and grabbed Steve by his collar and lifted him right off the counter. And he said, I’ll never forget it because Steve used to recite it from memory, yell it at me, ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is that Steve fucking Harrington? The lead singer of the Boys. Hey man, I love your song ‘Hades.’ How’d you get your voice to sound halfway decent for once?’”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve Harrington said flatly when I asked.

“And Steve used to be a fucking dick in high school. So he starts getting real bitchy, shoving Billy off him, asking what his problem is, why he’s such a dick all the fucking time, when it’s not even his band. And Billy said something like, ‘No one wants your shit band. Not with you in it,’” Robin paused for a moment. “And they just. Stare at each other. Like… daring each other to do something.”

Billy just shrugs when I ask, “I was pissed. I gave this guy a number one hit, and he still wanted to treat me like some… airhead singer the label brought in as a stunt. I’m not just a singer. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person.”

When I ask Steve about that day he’s pretty quiet, deflated at his piano. He only wants to talk about the song. The music. Can’t seem to talk about Billy any other way.

“He sang it like he not only knows Orpheus can’t save him, but that he won’t. It was supposed to be hopeful. A happy ending.” Steve said.

“So you still hate the song?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s brilliant. And that’s the whole problem.”

To be continued...

Next up is Half-Oz-Eddie's piece at 7:00 pm. GET HYPE!

#harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #steve x billy #harringrovefic #harringrovefanfic #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fanfic #stranger things #my writing #DJATS au #Daisy jones and the six au #tw drugs

93 notes · View notes

gowonders · 5 months

Text

getting friendly ♥ c.bg

apart of the ‘growing pain’ event for @napofamoon!!

notes: tee heee this was sooo different to write.. kind of based on the girl i’m with so this was SO personal but wtv.. this was definitely more draining than my other pieces so… hope y’all enjoy

warnings: english isn’t my first language, not proofread!, fem (barely a switch) sub! reader, dom! gyu, implied childhood best friends, nicknames (doll), manhandling, unprotected sex (wear a condom yall 👍) , lmk if i’ve missed any~

soft strumming of beomgyus guitar could be heard echoing from his room as his callused fingers run over the strings. “you’ll be fine, gyu.” you assure, cooing in his ear as he has an obviously nervous look on his face. he had his first big concert in a few days, and you came over to watch him practice. after all, he is your best friend! “well.. i know! i just don’t want to ruin our chance to get bigger as a band.. like, what if i just do so.. bad?” he says, pausing the way he just plays random things, or as he calls it— noodling. your finger nudges his thigh as you shake your head, looking up at him with a kind face. “i bet you won’t, i’ve heard you play, you’re so good!! you won’t mess up, and i’ll be there, you know it.” you say, giving him a smile, which he returns and nods. “thanks, doll.” he winks, and you roll your eyes. “ugh, save that for the girls you’ll flirt with after your show.” you respond with a laugh.

sure, you kind of had a thing for your best friend, but that didn’t mean you’d date him. yes, he was insanely fine and charming, but that doesn’t mean you’ll actually give in to dating him. he obviously was some sort of playboy, buying girls drinks and complimenting them after his bands gigs, leaving any girl feeling giddy that txts main guitarist was flirting with her. but not you, you couldn’t fall for that, but it’s sweet to see him try.

“sure, sureeeee.” he responds, a snicker leaving him before he finally straightens out his face, focusing on a song to play. your gaze settles on his face, lips a straight line and dark eyes focused on the fretboard. he looks back at you and catches your eyes, and he winks at you with a hum. like, an “i caught you” hum. it was so annoying. so, your eyes quickly snap to the fretboard he was focused on, looking over his well manicured nails, callused fingers, and overall.. such pretty hands. beomgyu stops playing and nods at you, snickering a little before he speaks.

“you know, these fingers aren’t only good at guitar. they’re good for anything and everything… if you catch my drift.” he says, smirking at you.

oh my god. oh my god? sure, he made lewd jokes all the damn time, but it caught you off guard this time. why?? was it the way it was so out of nowhere?

no. it was the way he was getting friendly. too friendly. wayyy too friendly for best friends.

but you couldn’t just.. not return the energy. and you definitely couldn’t just stay silent at the way he smirks at you, and how his finger started to trace lines on your hand resting on his bed. “..show me, then.” you say with nonchalance, looking at his finger on your hand. and he just pauses, he really wasn’t expecting you to react like that. “i- what?” he spits out with a chuckle, he was shocked to say the least. “you heard me, gyu. don’t act like you’re not trying to rile me up.” you say, still avoiding his gaze.

he sighs, putting his guitar down with a gulp, pulling away from you and ‘subtly’ putting a pillow over his lap. “i don’t know what you’re- what?” he sputters, he really, really wasn’t expecting that. “gyu.. do you want to fuck me or not?” you cringe internally when you say that.. it’s coming off a little forward, but anything goes at this point. “well. uh- i mean-“ he coughs on his words a bit, before a small “yeah” peeps in there. “are you sure..?”

if he’s being honest with himself, he really has wanted to. for a while. ever since you started showing up at his gigs, he would always brag about the many girls he’d take home— all in hopes of getting you jealous so you could be the next girl. and if this is the way it happens, then so be it.

“oh my goddd, yes! you’re getting waaay too close for this to just be friends. just fuck me, gyu. we’ve known eachother forever, it was bound to happen.” you scoff, sitting up to look down at the boy who was still laying down, fidgeting with the hem of his pillow.

“shit… say less, then.” beomgyu says, clearing his dry throat and getting up onto his knees, pushing you back down onto the mattress. it felt crazy surreal, the way your best friend practically glared at you, his callused fingertips brushing over skin, his hard swallows being barely heard, and especially the way the dim lighting of his room hits his face.. it was so strange to think about. for both of you. but you definitely wanted to just.. make it a little more comfortable for you.

“nooooo..” you whine out, pushing up against his hand to sit up, swiftly flipping him over to straddle him. “i wanna fuck you, though.” you say, a pout on your lips as your fingers hook under his shirt, starting to pull it up before his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping it.

“hell no. i’m fucking you, yn. you’re crazy if you think i’m not gonna absolutely ruin you.” he states, you could hear how upset he got in a moment, and with that, your lips part and your eyes widen, before you could even start to stammer, he mutters under his breath. “didnt dream of this for years just for you to be a brat.. jesus.” and with that, you’re getting slammed back into his mattress, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly before they move down to the waistband of your pants, his thigh slotted between yours, beomgyu scoffing at the way your thighs squeeze around his.

“you know how i said i was gonna show you how good my fingers are? yknow, multipurpose.” he asks, and you nod in response. “use your words with me.. anyways. i’m gonna make you cum with only my fingers.. punishment, you’d understand.” his fingers hook under the fabric , pulling it all the way off, leaving you only in your panties. “gyu…. i wanna-“ you start, but he quickly cuts you off. “don’t even, you’re lucky i’m giving you anything at all.” you just sigh, and beomgyu shoots you a glare.

“you know…” he starts as he pulls the thin fabric of your underwear to the side. “i really thought that you were gonna be an easy fuck, but like.. clearly, you just like to be a little brat, huh?” beomgyu spits, his fingers easing into your core, a quiet whine leaving your lips at the feeling.. he really wasn’t lying about being good with his fingers, i guess. “i wonder what happened to the girl i’ve known for so long… i thought you were all sweet, but you’re just some feen for my fingers, right? begging for them, it’s cute, really.” he says with a evil grin, letting his fingers pump in and out of you, not really caring about the way your nails dug into his back, and the way you quietly pled for him to slow down between mewls.

however, he in fact did not stop! an evil chuckle leaving him as he thumbed your clit, still using his fingers like it was nothing. it was definitely not nothing though.. because just a few moments later, your back is arching up and off the matress, and you’re letting out the most pathetic whines of your life. beomgyu definitely wasn’t lying, his fingers were definitely.. talented. maybe playing guitar really did pay off for that man, and maybe getting laid after every gif paid off too, because he definitely knew how to get a girl so worked up and desperate for more.. because right before.. what felt like nanoseconds before.. he fucking pulls out.

before you could even open your mouth to complain, beomgyu cuts you off. “ah ah, don’t be so quick to whine.” he spits, a smirk on his face. he was good at what he did.. in this case.. and he knew it. you start to watch him unbuckle his belt, and as he does so, he raises a question.. which almost seems like a statement. “you wanna ride me, yn?” he whispers, looking down at you. you nod as soon as he finishes his sentence, honestly, he just left you so.. needy, you’d take anything from him at this point. “oooof course.” he drags as he sits on the bed and pulls his waistband down just enough for you to do so. “i’m not complaining though.” he says as he motions you over , helping you straddle him.

sinking down on beomgyu, you let out a small whine, swallowing hard at his size. you could definitely see how he got so many girls after his gigs..

his hands wrap around your hips, looking up at you and asking a silent “you ready?” with his eyes. god, you loved his eyes, they were so expressive and pretty. and they could seriously convince you to do anything. so, you nod, and his hands are guiding you to start moving, and a low groan is heard from him. “fuckkkkk..” he starts, dragging his words out. beomgyus hands slip down slightly before his short nails dig into the plush of your thigh, making an hitched mewl spill from your lips.

the feeling of your velvet walls around his length had him in a trance, and he could’ve sworn his hips were moving on their own, even if he was having you ride him. “yn—“ he chokes out, his nails digging into your thighs even more. “y-you know.. everytime i fucked a girl backstage- shit.. i wished it was you.” he says, and his words have you fluttering around him. “r-really?” you ask between moans, hanging your head low with pleasure as your hands wrap around his arms. “mhm. always,,, like- you just always looked so good at our shows— shit-!” beomgyu cuts himself off with a broken groan, throwing his head back. he could feel you getting close since you were already pretty close from earlier, and honestly that just set him off.

“goddddd, doll-!” he groans out, swallowing hard at the way you tighten around him. you could barely speak, and if you could, it was incoherent and cut off by a whine. and beomgyu loved seeing you like this.. almost broken just on his dick. your grip on his arms tighten and a loud, broken whimper rings through the room. “are you close, y-yn?” he asks, eyes screwed shut at the feeling of you around him, and how pretty you looked during it. “yeah…” you say shakily, starting to practically collapse over him.

“t-then cum for me.” he spits, leaning his head further back on the pillow under him, his thumbs weakly rubbing your hips. that was basically your final straw, anyways. your walls clamp down hard on beomgyus length as you reach your climax, which hits you, so hard.

and it really doesn’t dawn on you for a bit that your best friend of all people just fucked the daylight out of you. and just made you practically scream for him. what the hell. no, like seriously.

luckily, beomgyu snaps you out of your thoughts, with a huge grin and a simple question. “are you still coming to my gig tomorrow?”

and you sure as hell were.

#gowonders: writes #gowonders: smut #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu ff #txt #txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut

197 notes · View notes

live-laugh-lenney · 3 months

Note

Greetings!

So I was listening to “Glue Song” by Beabadoobee, and it just reminded me so much of Arthur! I’ve only ever see people say good things about him when they get a chance to meet him. You also just KNOW he’s someone you couldn’t forget upon meeting. I think a little short fic based off this song would be so cute!!

honestly, every single time this song plays (because it's one of my 'soft' playlists that have songs that belong in a playlist for a rainy weekend afternoon), all i think about is arthur now and i'm really honestly not mad about that... it belongs to him, without a doubt.

being christopher dixon's best friend had it's moments.

there would be many times where he would ask her to accompany him in filming a video for his latest video because he needed another pair of hands on set to stand behind a camera, or help set up for each sessions, or where he would have her running his errands for him because he was falling behind in his ever-so busy schedule of being a youtuber. there had been times when she'd dropped off some lunch for him because he didn't realise his shoot was going to take as long as it had done, buying him groceries because he always forgot to buy bread and milk, bringing umbrellas for the rainier weather so that he and his video guests weren't stricken with a cold every time, just in the background and being there as an involuntary personal assistant - that, quite honestly, she didn't mind.

but being christopher dixon's best friend did have its perks.

the list of opportunities that she had been given was forever growing and she couldn't be any more thankful that he had taken her along on his journey; she had travelled to different countries, been invited to so many exciting events, had the chance to work for different brands and companies and meeting his circle of friends had brought brand new memories and so many new friends into her life that she couldn't dream of being without now.

his roommates had always been here favourites.

george clarke had wit. he was funny and sarcastic, he broke the ice on their first meeting by trying to flirt with her but failing to even get out his pick-up line without cringing first, and he could joke with her over things that she couldn't really joke about with anyone else. but he had a soft spot that made him feel like a big brother, someone that she could always go to if she didn't feel comfortable telling chris.

arthur hill had talent as well as a sense of humour. once she found out that he was an upcoming singer and was releasing his own music into the world, she was hooked because she loved listening to any music that wasn't mainstream. and you bet that she attended every single one of his shows that she was able to attend. being that friend who was supportive in every single thing that he did.

arthur frederick had something about him that she just couldn't ever forget. he was no different to george and arthur and chris on how he acted - boys will be boys - except his personality was somewhat on a different level. he was much softer with her when they spoke one on one, he was interested in her and what her likes and dislikes and her hobbies were before he spoke for himself, he was sweeter and where they could joke, he was always weary about what he could joke with her about.

and she liked that.

she gravitated towards him.

there was just something about him that she wanted to be around, all the time, just because he felt so inviting and warm. and he was on her mind, almost all of the time when she was at home. she would think about what he was doing and whether he was working or sleeping or filming a new video. whether he was on alone or whether one of the boys was with him. whether he was a work with music in the background or a silent man who could only work in the silence with no distractions.

at a friends party, she always waved at him and slowly made her way towards him throughout the evening, saying hello to everyone so she didn't look like she was there for him and only him, making herself a lot more social to not seem rude. at any events that they would both attend, she would always linger around him - she still felt out of place at movie premieres and launch parties and he was just a sense of comfort and someone she knew the most - and he wouldn't mind it in the slightest. at video shoots for any of chris' or george's videos, he would be there by her side... even though she was most comfortable doing a set task that someone had given her for the duration of the filming... he just liked to be near her...

and, of course, chris picks up on them being a little closer than usual.

"i know it's not my place to, you know, comment on relationship stuff and all," and he brings it up at the worst time possible; she would have been fine having it privately, without the nosey ears of one of his three roommates in the room and the other two occupied with whatever they seemed to be doing with their day, "but, you two have become awfully close."

"can't we just be friends, christopher?"

"i mean, look at today. he made you a cup of tea as soon as you came in through the door. he never makes anyone a cup of tea," chris points at the mug in her hand and she shrugs playfully, "i'm not saying it's a bad thing. just-"

"tell your face that then."

"i actually think you're a good fit together. of all the people you could date, i'd say arthur was number one on my list," chris tells her and she rolls her eyes, "what?"

"i didn't realise i had a big brother," she teases him and he scoffs and his cheeks go pink for just a moment, "i appreciate you looking out for me and all but, i think i'm old enough to pick a man to date. me and arthur, we're just friends."

"just friends," he scoffs again, using his fingers to act as quotation marks, "you really aren't fooling anyone."

"you really aren't as slick as you think you're being," george perks up from the dining table, laptop open and notes filling a page on google docs, "might as well just kiss him and get something started."

"no one asked you, george," yn frowns at him and he holds his hands up in defence, "i don't even think he likes me in that way. heck, i don't even know if i like him that way. he's just-"

"he's a different breed," chris states in a matter-of-fact way, like it was obvious that he was something of a special character, "what won you over? the animal obsession? the chess head? how terrible he is at a game of football?"

yn rolls her eyes and sets her mug on the kitchen island and stands from the stool she was sat upon.

"i don't have to stay here and listen to this," she threatens and chris just sits back and smirks at her as she grabs her cardigan and her bag and manoeuvres to the front door of their flat and she takes one last look at him before realising the stupid look upon his face, "what now?"

"you're totally in love with him."

she flips him off with her middle finger and slides her feet into her shoes, reaching for the handle of the front door, "lovely as always to see you boys. i'm going. see you never again."

and she closes the door behind her and leaves the two boys grinning at each other, concealing her own smile as she trots down the hall and towards her own flat down the corridor, knowing she'd probably grace them with her appearance later on that evening - she just felt the need to be dramatic as she left.

"yn left?"

chris and george see arthur standing outside of his bedroom door, a look on his face that was full of disappointment yet almost with a look that seemed to be an attempt to hide the sadness. he'd clearly been asleep; his eyes were sleepy, his hair was a mess and he had a pair of shorts and a jumper that was creased from him being in the same position for at least most of the hour he had disappeared into his bedroom.

"yeah, chris was being a dick," george jokes and chris throws him two fingers as he stood from his stool and stretched out his back, "she left in a hurry."

"is she okay? what did you say?"

'i actually said nothing," chris lies and he shrugs his shoulders, "she just said she had to leave."

"hmm," arthur hums softly, scuffing into the kitchen and reaching for the cup she had left on the counter, "maybe i'll pop around and see if she's okay."

"yeah, she'd probably like that," chris smiles and as arthur occupies himself with washing up her mug and wiping the tea stains from the inside, chris looks over at george and they both roll their eyes - two lovesick puppies pining for each other but neither one knowing where to start, "she'd definitely like a familiar face."

if you read this far then i think i may have gotten a little carried away and actually forgotten what the prompt was all about... but i hope this is good... obviously wanted to do it justice because it's a song so fitting for arthur... let me know what you think and don't be afraid to send in some requests! i'm probably here all afternoon slash evening so come keep me company! xx

#arthurtv #arthur frederick #arthurtv imagines #arthur frederick imagines #arthurtv fics #arthur frederick fics #arthurtv headcannons #arthur frederick headcannons #chaos crew

57 notes · View notes

catbountry · 19 days

Text

Does anybody else remember Pandora? Not the box, or the fictional planet where James Cameron's blue alien cat people live where there's a literal mineral called "unobtanium" that can only be harvested from that particular planet. My man literally called that shit "unobtanium," fucking portmanteau of "unobtainable" and the "-ium" suffix for newer elements. No. That has absolutely nothing to do with anything else I'm writing beyond this point. This is a post about music.

This is a post about the customizable internet radio station Pandora. And also it's going to briefly cover ClickRadio, it's going to talk about my experiences with YouTube Music, Spotify, my own iPod and how I find and listen to music, and how it's a core part of my creative process and I put a bunch of music references in pretty much all of my creative work. None of it being musical, by the way. I can barely carry a tune and I can't play any instruments more complicated than a kazoo.

It also got really long and rambly, look, I'm high, I'm sorry. You've been warned.

It's 2001. I'm in high school. My life looks like this drawing I made a few weeks ago.

Music is a big part of my life. The internet was a lot slower. It would take several minutes to download an .mp3 file of a song that was only about three and a half minutes long, so I would listen to the radio a lot. But the thing about listening tuning into radio is that it's not the internet. You can't pick which song to listen to whenever you want. If you want that, your best bet is to own the songs you want on their physical CD releases, or risk exposing your mom's computer to a million viruses. But in order to skip a song, you have to press a physical button to skip a song. And of course, if you're listening to the radio where you can discover new songs, you can't skip the latest Limp Bizkit or Disturbed track with the vain hope that maybe they'll play "One-Armed Scissor" by At The Drive-In or "Go With the Flow" by Queens of the Stone Age, or any single off of Kid A. Everything you hated the most, hated more than Britney Spears or the Backstreet Boys, was all lumped together under the formless "alternative rock" label, which weirdly included hip-hop artists like Eminem, House of Pain, Beastie Boys, Cypress Hill, Gorillaz and Outkast; all stuff that I guess radio stations looked at and thought "yeah, this can appeal to white people."

You know I heard Dynamite Hack's version of "Boyz N The Hood" before I ever heard Eazy-E's? That should be a crime. That should be considered a human right's violation. Fuck you, Dynamite Hack for introducing the entire world to the concept of ironic hipster covers hip-hop songs which led to the fucking white people with ukeleles versions of Tupac songs. I am so glad that we, as a society, have all come together against these dynamite hacks and decided this was cringe and something that belongs in the past.

But this isn't an essay on awful YouTube music trends of the early 2010's, this is listening to music in the internet age in the early 2000's.

In 2001, ClickRadio launched. It was a desktop application that allowed you to listen to radio stations via the internet, but it had something real radio stations did not; if a song like, say, Dynamite Hack's cover of "Boys N The Hood" came on, you could click a thumbs down button and it would let out this cartoonishly loud "thud" and then that station would never play that song for you again. And if they played a song you really liked? You could click a thumb's up button and it would play that song more often.

I cannot understate how fucking mindblowing an idea this was in the early 2000's. Yes, ClickRadio would slow down your computer as the Neopets Flash games you would play gringing for Neopoints to get a Halloween brush for your Lupe that you named after a member of your favorite band. Anybody else do that?

No? Just me? Okay then.

ClickRadio would quickly get enshittificated, within only about a year or two being filled with more and more unskippable ads. I went back to just loading up MP3s in Winamp and playing music that way by the time I was in college, but it was a pain having to listen to whatever song I had physically on my hard drive, or a few years later, going to YouTube to see if somebody uploaded a crusty version of a NoMeansNo song with a Spanish-speaking DJ speaking in the opening bits of the video. Not ideal.

But then Pandora showed up.

I don't remember where I first heard about Pandora, but after Napster, there were a bunch of music start-ups hoping to be legitimate in the eyes of artists and record labels. Clickradio was just a radio station. But Pandora... was an experiment of The Algorithm.

You see, Pandora started what is known as the Music Genome Project, a way of organizing music into hundreds of different subgenres across five large umbrella genres; Pop/Rock, Hip Hop/Electronica, Jazz, World Music and Classical. What Pandora did was use this as a way to allow users to craft their own custom radio stations. And not only would it play the stuff you liked, but it would be tailored to a seed artist or song; you put in Nirvana, you get a lot of 90's alt rock radio faire, but then maybe it plays Mudhoney. Maybe it plays Sonic Youth. Maybe it plays Melvins, and you like it. And when you give a thumbs up, you hear more and more artists in similar subgenres. And let's say you've been looking into obscure or underground music for years before you start using Pandora, and suddenly you're introduced to artists you never would have come across more organically. And buddy, you'd bet my Pandora station was a fucking hodgepodge of hundreds of seeds, which allowed me to discover highly influential /mu/ core bands like Swans, Animal Collective and Neutral Milk Hotel, but also bands that are so obscure that their Spotify listens are in the lower four digits at maximum and maybe a couple tens of thousands of views on YouTube. So many songs I found through Pandora are from bands that I very rarely hear a lot of people talk about, but they've made songs that have just lived in my brain for decades.

And for a couple years, I'd be listening to Pandora radio while writing up new TF2 fanfiction to terrorize TF2chan with. Certain songs would come up so often because I specifically bookmarked them. I didn't really know a lot about shoegaze before Pandora, but now I own a physical copy of all three of Slowdive's albums, and you fucking bet "When the Sun Hits" was in heavy rotation while I was writing Respawn of the Dead.

youtube

Yes, this was playing while I was writing out Respawn of the Dead, chapter by chapter. And so was "Beautiful Plateau" by Sonic Youth, "The Sound" by Swans, "Dead Flag Blues" by Godspeed You! Black Emperor and "End of the Line" by Murder By Death. And also this song by a band called The Clock Work Army, which split up and reformed into another band called Calico Horses, and I know this because I found this out while trying to track down a song that would play constantly on my Pandora station and it has, as of writing this sentence, 2,588 listens. And it might have more by the time you read this because I might just put it on loop because oh my god, I love this song so much, it hits so perfect for me, why don't more people know about this song?

It's not on YouTube, where I usually tend to listen to music, since I'll go through a rotation of songs that I call "work songs." I put on music while I write, and some songs are just so perfect that I can listen to them on loop with a very select number of songs that just never, ever get old for me. My neurons in my brain light up as though I was hearing it again for the first time.

Swans, Sigur Ros and The Dillinger Escape Plan are all artists who I found through Pandora that I've had the privilege to see live. By the time I was just discovering bands because I had a bunch of friends and mutuals with similar taste in music to mine, Pandora was slowly getting more and more ads. It was getting to the point where the free service would, if you were lucky, play only three or four songs before playing an ad. And when the length of those songs can span anywhere from less than three minutes for much of my beloved 80's and early 90's punk, to up to a half an hour for post-rock, noise, or ambient music. And the number of ads that played between songs had increased. What was just one every half an hour or so was now two to three for what could potentially be only after seven minutes of music. Pandora really doesn't like it if the music you like includes a lot of songs that are longer than an episode of The Simpsons.

I never hear anybody talk about Pandora anymore. Spotify is THE name in internet music streaming, and it favors listens of entire albums and other people's playlists. I don't like Spotify; sometimes I just want a specific song from a specific album. I could make a playlist of these "work songs," but I like when YouTube notices that I'm listening to music, and in the recommendeds, there's another song that I've listened to on repeat. Why yes, I would like you to play "Classical Homicide" by Dälek for me again. What's that? An hour loop of Deadmau5's "Professional Griefers" featuring Gerard Way? Yes please. I apologize for nothing. That dude's way better than Skrillex.

God, do you guys remember the Deadmau5/Skrillex shipping that was all over Tumblr in the early 2010's. I remember it. I remember it so hard. Everybody shipping them and the members of Daft Punk, posting Steam Powered Giraffe (blech) and Die Antwoord (lol) on my dashboard. In Die Antwoord's defense, they had some pretty funny music videos.

I got AdBlocker for YouTube, so the ads aren't a problem there. I mean, I could make a playlist for Spotify of my go-to songs, but I'd have to deal with ads. And there's something nice about YouTube's robots that sell my precious data to faceless corporations at least having the courtesy to be like "You look like you could use another stream of 'Anything (Viva!)' by Foetus. Or Scraping Foetus off the Wheel. Or... whatever, fuck it, it's J.G. Thirwell's band, okay? It's the guy that does the music for Venture Brothers."

Foetus was introduced to me through a friend but it was Pandora serving me up more of their music that made their albums "nail" and "Flow" ones that got the honor of Being Downloaded onto my iPod so I can Listen to This in my Car. I still use my iPod and even if there's albums that I haven't gone back to in years on there, I like having them there. I haven't listened to the soundtrack for Panty and Stocking in ages but having access to it so that I can FLY AWAY NOW, FLY AWAY NOW, FLY AWAAAYYYY on a long drive? I like having that option.

I still buy CDs so I can burn albums onto my iPod. My iPod doesn't have ads and switching between artists doesn't mean I have to flip through a CD binder. I also try to buy albums off of Bandcamp. Especially for smaller artists, or artists whose work I love enough to want to give them my money. I don't want to listen to ads. It throws off my workflow, shakes me out of the trance-like state that is pure, focused creativity. Whether it's working on comics or thinking about things I want to do in those comics, I'm usually listening to music. Sometimes the same album, hundreds of times over. I admit I haven't listened to that much King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, but I've listened to Nonagon Infinity front to back more times than I can count.

Nowadays it feels like I don't have a lot of friends who share my taste in music. I've so fully entrenched myself in fandom circles that I've been exposed to the average person's taste in music and I'm like "oh yeah, most people aren't as big of a fucking nerd about this as you are." You know how hard it is to get people who aren't music nerds to get into The Residents? Everybody I know that likes them already knew about them before we met, and people who had never heard of them before they met me usually find them deeply weird and never get fucking obsessed with them like I have. I own a physical copy of, not their original version of their album The King and Eye, which is an entire album of them covering Elvis that sounds like this, but the fucking remix of that album that does shit like this to their covers of Elvis songs. And you know what? I love both versions, but that remix of their cover of "Surrender" is a work song.

Listening to music is the only way I can guarantee that I'm actually working on something and not playing with my phone. I guess what I'm saying is... it sure would be nice if Pandora existed like it did back then right now.

Especially because I stopped cleaning up a page of my horrible Deltarune fan comic (MASSIVE Dead Dove warning, not even kidding, the entire story hinges on some very upsetting topics) just to write all this down and make sure there were links to every song in this essay. And like... I've even used the comic as a not-so-clandestine way into tricking them into listening to my music before. Whether it be directly namedropping bands and songs, writing about a specific character's taste in music and using that in the story somehow, or literally just making the title of one of my comic installments... this.

It is really good. 686 listens on YouTube. Absolutely criminal. And the example above? That's me not putting in hundreds of references into the comic and wondering if anybody else has noticed them.

I guess what I'm saying is that I am a huge music nerd, even though I always feel like I'm getting into artists super late (unless they're like Death Grips, but that was only after The Money Store had come out), but I fucking hate Spotify. I want more physical releases that can be preserved digitally, and I don't have the money to get into collecting vinyls as a hobby. All the vinyl I own is toys, and uh... I own a lot of those.

Thank you for reading through pure, uncut music autism mixed in with nostalgia and griping about capitalism because that's apparently where my head is at all the time when I'm not daydreaming my little stories or making up video essays in my head that will never be made. That's why I do stream of consciousness Tumblr essays full of minute details that absolutely are not necessary, but this is how my goddamn ADHD brain works. Now you know what it's like to be in my Discord server.

That post is, of course, pinned in the music channel.

As it should be.

... Fuck Pandora, I don't even fuck with it no more, I miss Grooveshark, weh, my playlist on that site was eight hours long before they shut it down in 2014. Devastated. I was in the middle of using it when it went offline.

Okay now I'm done for real, sorry.

#non fanfiction #tl;dr #Youtube #Spotify

19 notes · View notes

thequeenofsarcaasm · 2 months

Text

Chapter 12 of Love is in the hands

Summary

After getting kicked out of his home for being queer, Suguru comes across his childhood sweetheart in a strange gay bar that is owned by his new “family”: a bunch of queer social rejects who were taken in by Yuki, an eccentric matriarch. He finds a new home (and his lost love) there.

Extracts

I couldn’t decide on one so I selected two excerpts

1-“Is there anything these fingers can’t do?” he asks, making Suguru laugh.

“Satoru, stop,” he giggles.

Satoru sits up. “I think it’s insane how talented you are. You weren’t even looking at the sheet and I know you haven’t played these songs in years. You should drop law school,” he says.

One again, Suguru cannot stop himself from laughing. “And who would kickstart the LGBTQ revolution that sets us all free from the shackles of an oppressive society?” he asks, believing his own words much more than he should. That’s Riko’s influence at play.

“You can do both,” Satoru shrugs. It’s touching how hopeful he is.

“I can’t do both,” Suguru says, gently extending his arm to touch Satoru’s hand.

“Sure you can. I could be the Miriam Makeba to your Nina Simone, if you want. Or the Frida Kahlo to your Josephine Baker. It doesn’t matter,” Satoru says, intertwining their fingers.

He sounds stupidly in love, and undoubtedly is. It’s a good thing he was never good at hiding things from you Suguru.

“Should I play something else for you?” Suguru asks.

“Something short,” Satoru requests. “I can only fall in love with you so many times before my heart explodes.”

“Satoru you huge sap.”

2- “What’s truly ridiculous is that we both have mommy and daddy issues. Insane,” Satoru says.

“I know right? Maybe being a parent is more difficult than what we think,” Suguru reflects. To him, family was never truly about blood to begin with. It was always about responsibility.

“Nah, they just suck,” Satoru voices, shaking his head to solidify his case. “I’m not a genius in that department but I know good parents don’t kick their son out for watching gay porn. Your dad would be livid if he knew I put it up your ass,” he laughs, almost choking on a piece of kikufuku.

“And he’d truly be disgusted if he knew how much I liked it,” Suguru chuckles. “You should sit. I don’t want you to end up dead,” he says, helping Satoru up.

“Maybe he should try,” Satoru says, coughing. Not even a near death experience will stop him from gossiping. “He was super close with that one man. The guy he was always hanging out with. I bet getting railed would change the chemistry of his brain,” he says.

“Satoru, ew,” his partner cringes. “That’s his first cousin. Don’t ship my dad with his cousin,” he says, slapping his shoulder lightly.

“Maybe they’re not really cousins,” Satoru puts his finger against his temple. “Maybe that’s his fuck buddy. Do you think he ever bottomed? Do you think he’s a slut just like you?” he whispers.

“Satoru, you’re terrible,” Suguru laughs. “Now, I’m sure your mom had a bisexual ‘phase’. Let’s talk about that instead.”

#satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic #satosugu fanfic

21 notes · View notes

anonymous-kotlc-thoughts · 2 months

Note

I’ll be honest here guys (this is quite embarrassing but, you know).

When I was like fourteen and I think Legacy had just come out, but I was OBSESSED with BTS at the time. (To a semi unhealthy degree). While reading the book Shannon mentioned a post of a boy band on Amy Fosters wall that Sophie had never heard of before. I am assuming she was meaning to imply this was one direction. But you know. I’m insane. So I researched deeply into the KOTLC Time line and lined up all the events. Anyways Sophie left in 2012 which was a YEAR after one direction released their first album. Now 1D wasn’t at the height of their fame; snd Sophie was a socially awkward tween BUT I’m TELLING YOU GUYS. THEY WERE EVERYWHERE . Literally inescapable part of the western world, especially I would say in America where literally everyone fawned over UK accents. Uh anyways. From this thesis I figured that Sophie just could not have not know 1D. And I bet you right now they were on her iPod music playlist. Anyways I concluded that the boyband poster was BTS. Also one of my favourite songs from them at the time is called black swan. I had an animatic planned to it.

Now is where the ask SHOULD stop. Because, well… the rest is quite embarrassing but I think it’s funny.

With the collision of these two interests of mind some insane washed over me and I decided I had to write a fanfiction. It was about Amy Foster joining the neverseen around the same time as Tam and Glimmer were around and it had an ungodly amount of BTS references and fandom jokes that I think were there purely to make me giggle. I was having QUITE the time you see and I posted maybe four chapters to Ao3? It was a complete cringefest. But I enjoyed it and that’s all that mattered at the time !! (I still kinda live by that statement). Anyways I didn’t expect for it to be exactly a hit but I got a couple of hits and like maybe 2 Kudos. I was like cool, people are enjoying this. That’s great! Anyways I got a comment on the fic. It was something along the lines of “Imao what is this.”.

And dude.

Look I’m not THAT great at reading text but that broke me. I gave up writing the fic and pulled it from the platform. Suffice to say my tolerance for criticism wasn’t that good- but I’m proud to say I have really built up that cringe but free mindset lately and every year I grow stronger. Anyways to anyone who’s ever written a fic or done something that they found fun and joyful and whimsy and someone else was being a little hater (even if they didn’t mean it) I see you, I feel you and I hope you are able to find a happier space where you csn be cringe and free !!! 💜

#let people be cringe.#as long as it's not hurting anyone #if you don't like it #don't interact.#anonymous kotlc thoughts #kotlc #kotlc headcanons #kotlc fanfic

12 notes · View notes

kjrcrz · 10 months

Text

🎵 NOW PLAYiNG — CHERRY WiNE

❝ i'll bet you 20 bucks i'll put a smile on your face ❞

🍷 ˒ In which jay gets to know you over cherry wine 𓂃 ֢ genre ; fluff warnings ; mentions of wine tooth rotting fluff tbh — wc 1.6k ( 📓 mlist )

🎤 bibi speaks ! ; hii !! this is my first oneshot / written work i've ever posted so please don't mind if my writing sucks 😭 i'm seeing grent in 3 days so i figured to write something song based so i came up with this 🥹🥹 hope you guys enjoy & please don't be afraid to leave feedback !! 💌

JAY didn't think he would be the type to be so observant, but there was nothing better to do since no one was dancing. Most times he would jump in and party until he passed out, but right now, he was rather curious about the girl who stood across from him. Oblivious and confused, you felt out of place. Parties were never your thing, in fact you hated parties. Your friend had dropped you off and ditched you because she said that you needed to meet someone new, especially after your big crying session over your ex. You internally cringe upon the behavior over the boy who had stopped loving you days ago.

Why you standing there all by yourself? Those shoes were made for dancing for someone else

You knew your friend didn't mean harm, but rather she just wanted to burst your bubble. But you were sure that you weren't ready for that. Now matter what, you couldn't avoid your friend. You needed to come out now rather than later otherwise you would've seriously given up on loving another guy. You bit your lip and sighed, this party sucks. Jay's lip went up a bit as he watched you close and open your hands. He remembers in school that you would do that when you were nervous. Despite his popularity at school, he noticed you. He would find himself wanting to know you, he wasn't sure why exactly but there was something about you that made him like you. He never talked to you but he did admire from afar, but now he wanted to know you personally.

You look forward and saw a boy who looked familiar across the room. Tilting your head at the boy as he pointed at you then to himself. You were confused and the guy just shook his head. Jay was hesitant on whether or not he should approach you, but eventually he pushed his away through the crowd and made his way towards you. He needed to play this smoothly. "I bet you 20 bucks I'll put a smile on your face." You couldn't lie to yourself and say that he wasn't attractive, which he was. Extremely handsome in fact. It took you a moment to recognize the familiar face, then you realized. It was none other than Jay. The guy who you never expected to come up to you. You scoffed in a playful way, "What are you doing here? I thought you were more into rowdy parties than this." He shrugs. "You just need to wait. Everyone is warming up, then that's when the party actually starts."

You shrug at him. "I'll be out by then. I don't feel like sticking around for long." The boy besides you scoffs. "And leave me here? How rude Y/n."

"How do you know my name?" The male freezes and thinks he had officially gotten himself stuck, while also slightly outing himself at the fact that he knows you. Jay immediately tries to come up with an excuse, but you just let out a laugh. "It's okay Jay, we had the same english class in sophomore year. I'm just surprised you remember me considering how popular you were then. I wasn't that quite remarkable unlike you, park." He feels taken aback. The way you laughed and how his last name rolled off your tongue gives him butterflies. "I used to think you were really interesting and lovable actually. I would tend to observe you and learn from you." The words just fell out of his mouth like it was nothing, thinking back on his words he let out a gasp. "I sound like a weirdo, don't I?"

Why don't we move over to that empty space?

You giggle at his last sentence as he blinks at you. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he felt reassured at your reaction. Without realization, a smile formed on his lips. "You're smiling, I won the bet didn't I?" You laugh a little louder, and Jay giggles too. "I know. But you're a charmer, Jay. You don't at all sound like a weirdo. You sound like a gentleman, in fact, and it's cute. Do you check up on me without saying it?" Jay looks at you with adoring eyes as you smile at him. His heart flutters at you. "...I guess I do." He scans the crowd quickly, and most people are finally gathering the guts to start dancing. So he takes his chance. "Y/n? Do you wanna dance with me, love? You smile wider than ever, to the point where it actually hurts, but you didn't care. Not in this moment anyway. You didn't bother to hide how you felt comfortable around him and how he made you feel a certain way.

I know a place where we could dance the night away

"Sure. Why not?" He gave you the most charming and dazzling smiles that only his friends saw. He lent his hand out for you to hold. So you did. Jay took you out the back garden so there was less pressure on you. He took note on how extra nervous you were when people would stare at you for long periods of time, and you greatly appreciated how much he cared for you. There wasn't much people outside, or rather all the guests decided to squish in the house. He grinned as he put his arm around your torso, as if he had done this hundreds of times with you. It was shocking that he didn't feel slightly embarrassed or awkward with you, but it made you feel comfort. You slipped your arms around his neck, you were sure you were flushed with pink by now.

Baby we could try to make the world spin slower

"I need to show you my moves tonight before you leave. Since you wanna go home early." He frowned, letting out a small laugh from you. "I won't leave as long you're here, park." You giggle as he grins. "Great." Dancing with Jay made your world spin slower than it should, the loud music from inside was blurred out and all you could focus on was him. You were sure you were flushed with pink all over, and you were even more sure when Jay laughed and told you how cute you were blushing. Even though it was his first time ever encountering you successfully, he wanted to make the most out of the time you both had. He wanted to remember this night with you and he hopes for you to remember this night with him.

"You know everything about me Jay, but what about you?" You say, whispering due to how close both of you were. "Well, you know me Y/n. I'm popular and everyone knows me. I'm not that bright but I'm amazing at sports. Girls were all over me and I had a few relationships...but ever since english class you caught my eye. I found myself thinking about you but I never got the courage to say anything or ask you out. I always looked forward to english class if it meant being with you, I admired you with awe." Now it was his turn to be flustered, the confident and outgoing Jay was gone and replaced with a shy one. Never would you have thought to see him like this, blushing and ears turning red, but you liked this side of him. It showed that he was being real with you, and how much he adored you from afar.

"I like to sip cherry wine sometimes, mainly thinking about the person who I admire. My mind automatically goes to you when I drink it. Feeling flushed and buzzed from the drink as well as getting to know you." You titled your head. "Really?" You never knew how much of a romantic person Jay was, until tonight at least. He nodded while moving you to the rhythm of the song. "I've always wanted to know you, more than being your classmate in english. I wanted you as a..." Jay couldn't get himself to finish sentence. His eyes trialed down to your lips, and by that you instantly caught on to what he was trying to say before zoning out. "A romantic interest?" Cocking your eyebrow up and Jay shook his head. He was so shy and quiet now, which made you adore him more than ever. You two were left in silence once more, not that you were complaining. It was peaceful and so perfect just looking at one another with so much affection.

We could take our time and get to know each other over cherry wine

"Remember when you said I had to give you twenty-bucks if i smiled tonight?"

"Yeah...what about it?"

"How about you suggest something for us...so we could spend time together?"

He thought for a moment, hesitating if he should ask you or not. You looked at him with anticipation until he finally spoke. "Well...can I have you over and drink cherry wine together?

You laughed. "I thought you would never ask me handsome." You watch his eyes glimmer over your answer and you think back to how you felt earlier. If it wasn't for Jay, you would've dreaded the rest of your time here. And if it wasn't for You, Jay would've loved the rest of his life regretting not talking to you and getting to know each other over cherry wine

Know it's too soon to call you mine, Let's have a drink tonight and get to know each other over cherry wine

THE END

32 notes · View notes

crypticspacecat · 1 year

Note

bish ykw? ive just realised ive never returned the favour in asking for a request LOOOL so here i am requesting: DILFtaro seeming to always find himself looking like an absolute GOOF in front of his crush, black!fem reader — who also happens to be lil jolyne’s toddler pilates teacher 😁😁

I'm ngl, when I read your request, I was listening to this song LMAO

Hope you enjoy!

(Y/N), the Pilates instructor loves kids. While getting her teaching certification, she works with toddlers part-time. First meeting the instructor, Jotaro was at a loss for words. Her expressive brown eyes, her beautiful goddess locs always in a high ponytail, and radiant brown skin stunned the single father. He almost ran into the door after meeting the young woman, much to his dismay. This feeling, he hasn’t felt this since first meeting his late wife. It’s the first time in years he’s actually considered dating anyone and he feels like a lovesick teenager.

Move❤️✨️

Being a single dad (or parent for that matter) is not for the weak. Jotaro, despite the passing of his late wife, managed the hurdles pretty damn well. One of the biggest obstacles was properly bonding with Jolyne. Between his grieving and demanding toddler, he was emotionally ready to explode. A saving grace in the form of a co-worker one day tells him about a toddler Pilates class at the local gym. Since then, he’s been taking Jolyne to the local gym while he also gets a workout himself for the past month and a half.

Every time he tries to talk to her, something always seems to trip him up. Whether he either stutters or even freezes before bidding a brief “Goodbye”. He still cringes at what happened last week.

‘Jotaro, like every other week, brings Jolyne to the toddler’s Pilates class. He once again sees her talking to another parent. She of course is sporting her usual pink crop top and leggings that hugged her body well. Especially her butt…

“Oh, good morning Mr. Kujo!” She greets him, snapping him out of his daydreaming state. She walks over, her hips swaying while she walks. The single father’s heart starts to race, making sure he says the right words.

“Hey (Y/N). Um, how’s it going?” He replies sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

“Things are well, classes have been running smoothly! I hear you’re a marine biologist, I bet that’s exciting.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty interesting, I sometimes travel and-”

“HI MS. (Y/N)!” Jolyne yells, prompting Jotaro to mutter a ‘yare yare daze’ whilst covering his face with his cap. The teacher squats down to greet the eager toddler.

“Hi Jolyne! How are you today?” (Y/N) gleams, sincerity in her that Jotaro definitely noticed.

“Am good, my daddy reeeeaaaallly likes you.” Jolyne says, prompting Jotaro to silently scold her.

“What? It’s truuu, are you gonna be my new momm-”

“Ok, um I have to go before I’m late for work. Have fun Jolyne.” Jotaro says before speeding out of the gym, face red as a tomato.’

Hoping she doesn’t remember the incident, he brings Jolyne to the gym once more. Jotaro sees (Y/N) making small talk with a parent. She’s once again sporting her usual crop top with pitch-black leggings.

“Hi, Dr. Kujo!” The teacher greets him, making her way to him and Jolyne. He admires the way her hips sway as she walks toward him.

“Hey, how’s the class going?” He asks

“Class is good, everyone is doing well and making vast improvements. Happy to see you, Jolyne!” She gleams, squatting at Jolyne’s height.

“Hi Ms. (Y/N)!” Jolyne says before running to her friends.

“Jolyne is great kid, she’s always super eager in class.” (Y/N) says as she gets up from her squatting position.

“Yeah, she always had a fiery spirit.” He says, trying to be nonchalant.

“Oh, also, about last week-”

“I’m really sorry about that, Jolyne can be a little much sometimes.” Jotaro shyly says, still having the scene replay in his head.

“It’s fine, I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh...um, sure.” Jotaro mutters, feeling his palms getting sweaty.

“Um, whenever you’re free, maybe you want to go out to dinner?” she asks, shocking Jotaro. He honestly never considered whether she liked him back or not. The stalling lasts for a few more seconds before Jotaro finally answers.

“Yeah, I would love to.” He says, gaining some last-minute courage. She smiles at the answer, making his heart skip a beat. He actually did it! Well, she asked him first, but Jotaro still counts this as a victory.

“Oh, here’s my number and you can call me anytime.” (Y/N) mentions with a wink. Jotaro shares his contact information before leaving for work and her class starting.

He gets in the car, dramatically taking a deep breath before starting the car. He drives away from the gym with a small smirk on his face, looking forward to the date.

#jjba x reader #jjba x black reader #black reader #jjba fic #x black fem reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro x black reader

105 notes · View notes

peachjagiya · 1 month

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/747459325571809280/ngl-im-cringing-at-tkkers-who-are-now-saying-the

“We’ll always have “Jk always sings this song for me”

This is how you know the bar is in hell. Also wait till you find out that just like so many other things, that is one additional thing y’all have taken out of context and made your entire personality which will most likely end up being debunked AGAIN and u end up looking like clowns AGAIN!!

The fact that your rose colored lenses does not allow you to see any interaction Jk has with Tae as normal, is quite concerning and i can bet my last dollar that if it was Jimin or any other member who said “Jk always sings this song for me” tkkrs would have said it doesn’t matter cuz he probably does that for everybody or come up with with theories about how he secretly does it for Tae because u know, their relationship isn’t for the camera.

I also found if funny when anon said “members and Tae tae” cuz what exactly gives you this idea? So two bandmates cannot even go the washroom together anymore without shippers theorizing the shit out of it? you guys really need to start paying better attention to other pairings outside of your ship because you celebrate things that are completely normal between all the boys. Trying to make more out of tae and Jk being in the washroom together like we all didn’t see Tae pout because Jimin refused to let him go to the washroom with him. Seeing as he clearly probably likes going to the washroom together with other people what makes Jk and tae going to the washroom together special other than the fact that ur rose colored lenses shows u that? If tae had followed jimin to the washroom, would u have percieved it the same way u percieve taekook going to the washroom together?

Sometimes some shippers act like they don’t have real life interactions with real people. How many times do you see friends in clubs or restaurants or other public places choose to go to the restroom together? This is the same thing taekookers did years ago when taekook went to the washroom together at an award show and when they got back, y’all started claiming they had hickeys on their necks.

Don’t get me wrong, this is not me trying to tell you what u should and what u shouldn’t believe but some of your theories or the things you scream and make big deals out of are just the boys being friends with each other and not this big show or proof of how “real” they are.

Even now you pple are still making a big deal of the fact that Jk only posted a picture with tae which according to some of you means to Jk’ it is “members and tae tae” but the real question u should be asking yourself is, is Tae the only member Jk ever posted a pic with? On Jk’s weverse he only has a single pic with Jimin and no one else. Wouldn’t it be fair for ur cousins jikookers to also brag about this? Plus that pic is still up and not deleted like the taekook pic. So if it is fair for you to see it as special that Jk only posted with tae and that means “members and tae tae” isn’t it also fair for jkkrs to say “members and Jimin”? What is the difference? Infact if we have to go by some of the little things y’all hold sacred wouldn’t it actually hold more weight on your cousin’s side because Jk’s pic with Jimin is actually still up and is on an app that he actually loves using and hasn’t deleted like instagram, plus he did it with Jimin first? You see how when you look into all the nitty gritty details and pick apart things and choose what is special or not, u still come out “losing”?

Taekookers are fighting about a pic which literally doesn’t exist on Jk’s social media anymore and are swearing that it is special (which it is, but not in the way you think it is) and you expect your rival shippers not to bring up the fact that till this day Jk’s selfie with Jimin is still up and he didn’t delete it like he did the taekook pic and even deleted the app after? You see how dumb this is in real life right?

At the end of the day, this is a battle y’all cannot really win because of the simple fact that, you cannot really name anything which is exclusive to taekook (other than your perception and interpretation of their body language and things they do or say to or about each other). There is really nothing that you can say Jk has done for tae which could point to tae being more special to him that he hasn’t done for another member at some point in time, it’s just that shippers think anything their pair do together is “ more” and what they do with others is “normal” or just them being friends.

To any person without tunnel vision, or without shipping lenses, Jk does for Tae what he does for the others unless you can prove me wrong and tell me just one thing (that we know of) that Jk has ever done for Tae which he hasn’t done for anyone else, and this isn’t me asking for u to give me an analysis of ur interpretation of their body language because that is not factual but more or less an opinion.

Let me give u a for instance.

Jk has only ever made a single GCF for or with Jimin =FACTS

Hobi likes Jimin the most = Opinion

Tae and Jk hung out in chapter two = FACTS

Tae and Jk are the closest= Opinion.

The facts are things that actually happened which we all saw or witnessed.

The opinions are how we view and interpret their bond based on what we see or the information we are given which could be true or not, hence not factual.

So if u really think that Jk only posting Tae was “special” and meant more or could point to the possibility of them being together, then wouldn’t that mean there is also a possibility of there being “more” between Jk and any other member he has only posted with at some point in time?

This is so many words. I hope you got what you needed from sending this ask. 💜

#my asks

10 notes · View notes

justimagineok · 1 year

Text

2:30 series - 🕑 2:24

Summary: One too sure, the other not that much. One focused on the present, the other too stuck on the past and afraid of the future. Both of them in love with each other.

Recommended song: Save me by McKenna Breinholt

A/N: lets go until 2:30 shall we? feedback is always appreciated! feel free to reblog, comment or send me an ask at anytime 😊

next >>

“It's just too much to take, to must repair, oh no

Am I alone, are you there? Oh no

Will I believe, take me there? Oh no

Drinking you in, breathing your air, oh no “

"Did you like it?"

"If I like it? I loved it! It's a shame we had to go back in only two days.."

"Next time, we'll stay 2 weeks, I promise, jagi."

"I don't care where we go, Seokjinnie, as long as we're together."

"Ugh, getting cringe aren't w- OUCH!"

"Call me cringe again and I'll hit the vital parts"

"aish, you shouldn't pinch a handsome boyfriend like me"

"hm... what do you suggest I do then?"

"Let me just unlock my door, and I'll show you some id--WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE, JUNGKOOKIE?!"

Jungkook didn't move, even at Seokjin's screams. He decided to go to his hyung's house right after her visit and stayed there, lying on the couch for so many hours that he couldn't feel his back anymore. Seokjin put the bags on the floor and helped Haru with them, while the maknae remained lying down, looking at the ceiling.

"were you here all weekend?", Seokjin asked.

"Nope. "Jungkook grumbles, sitting on the couch and pointing at Haru."Actually, I was at your place on the weekend..."

"Wait... you were together??", Haru asked, in shock. Finally, some progress, she thought to herself.

Jin smirked at Jungkook, patting him on his back, proud.

"It's not what you're thinking, Hyung.", Jungkook clarified. "She needed me."

"I bet she did", Jin smirked again, smacking Jungkook's thigh playfully.

"That is NOT what you think, hyung", Jungkook glares at him and Seokjin looks at Haru, who also caught the maknae's irritation..

"What happened? Did you guys argue?"

Jungkook denied, shaking his head. "She actually kind of declared herself to me...", he arches his eyebrows, still confused.

"Then why the shitface?!", Haru teased, making Jungkook glare at her.

"Jagi, don't say that! ", Jin scolded her, but she just shrugged.

"It was too late.", Jungkook almost whispers. "I can't do this anymore. I gave up."

The room was silent, Jin and Haru looking at each other, wondering what to say about it..

"You guys don't need to get weird about it," Jungkook said, looking at the two of them. "It's okay. I'm fine, and she's fine too, and it's better this way. I've made my peace with it."

Haru was ready to say whatever was on her mind, but Jin grabbed her hand softly, signaling her not to say anything yet. He sat next to Jungkook, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, Jungkookie... if this is what will do you good then I wi-", Jungkook shook his arm, getting up from the couch.

"Do you think she was happy with me if she ran away every damn time, hyung? If she didn't even bother to go to my practices and was always making excuses not to have to be seen with me? Do you really think YN was happy?", Jungkook dared Seokjin to say something, but he didn't. "I've been more than happy with YN... I could be happy with her the rest of my life because she makes me happy. But I don't want to risk making her unhappy anymore. I already insisted too much... she clearly doesn't want anything to do with me, so why should I punish her by insisting like that? I... I just want her to be happy, hyung. I don't want to think anymore that the reason she's the opposite is because of me. I can't be that selfish."

Seokjin just nodded and stood up. "I'll take my bags to my room and come back to help you organize your things, jagi. I'll be right back."

Haru smiled at Seokjin and he took the bags.

As soon as he closed the door, Haru crossed his arms and glared at Jungkook.

"You're really stupid, you know?", Haru laughed, making Jungkook even more angry.

"What are you talking about, Haru?!", he frowns.

"You know nothing about her. You know nothing about YN.", she states.

"What do you mean?"

Haru uncrosses her arms and points at the couch for him to sit.

"I can't say much 'cause that's not my place, but since you're getting on my fucking nerves and YN is too much of a moron to see how oblivious her ex-boyfriend is, I'm gonna give you a hint, Golden boy."

Jungkook kept his silence, ready to hear whatever she had to say. If it was about you, he wanted to know. "Why do you think YN has all this abandonment issues?", Haru starts in a low tone, afraid anyone else could hear, even though nobody else was in the place. If you heard her saying anything to this to him, you'd surely kill her. "You think is just coincidence? You never questioned why she never presented you to her parents? Never?"

Jungkook shook his head. He tried to talk to you about that once, but you just shut him down. "She told me not everybody had good parents once, but I never thou-"

"Yeah, you didn't." Haru cut him off. "And YN is a moron not to talk about that with you."

"Stop calling her that.", Jungkook warned.

"All I'm trying to say is that there's more water under that bridge, Jeon."

Jungkook looked at her, still not fully getting it. "What is it? Tell me.", Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows.

"It's not my story to tell, Jungkook."

"Whatever it is... why she didn't tell me? Why she can't trust me?", he just didn't get it. Was he not worthy of your trust? He didn't deserve to know about whatever it was making you miserable? He always thought he was respecting your space and your decision, but that was actually bringing you two apart, day by day.

"Imagine with me for a moment.", Haru calls his attention to herself again. "If you had a bruise on your chest that never healed, 'cause it was the type of wound that never could. And day by day, that thing hurt like a bitch, but you couldn't do a thing about it. Some days you woke up thinking you were all healed and fine, just to find out later on the day, that it was still there. Still open, bleeding, ugly and nasty... Would you bother to tell the people that loves you about the constant state of pain you are every day? Would you think is worth it? Would you be scared of pushing people away by showing the things that bring you shame? The things that hurt your deepest feelings? Would you risk their happiness and light heart just to share about your pain with them? Think about it for a second, Jeon." Haru got up, ready to leave. "It might not be the wisest choice you'd make, but I still think it is fucking amazing that somebody would even consider trying to spare me of that, even if I didn't want to be spared. YN is so good at making good choices when it comes to other people, but she's the worst when it comes to choosing happiness for herself. Luckily, she's not alone in that anymore.", Haru smiled at Jungkook, who was still processing everything. His mouth open and his eyes were fixated on a spot on the carpet, processing her words. "Luckily, she met a guy with a good heart and a lot of happiness to share with her.", Jungkook looks at her, and she's smiling. "I think YN is afraid you'd change who you are by knowing about her life... that you'd stop being this light person, all golden and stuff", she laughs, making Jungkook give a little smile. "But I think you can manage that, Jeon. And that's all I can say."

“Who's gonna save me?

Who's gonna save me now?

Are you gonna save me?

Who's gonna save me now?

Who's gonna save me?

Who's gonna save me now?

Are you gonna save me?

Are you gonna save me now? “

#2:30 #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jk x you #jk x #jk x reader #jk x y/n #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jungkook fiction

54 notes · View notes

freeuselandonorris · 8 months

Note

hello please some unhinged mctwinks exploring the post-podium opportunities to, idk, pee on each other or sth (your pal emptyhalf)

this is a GOD TIER PROMPT and one of many reasons i treasure you.

this is 2500 words of filth. i’ll x-post it to AO3 for anyone who’d rather read there!

cw: piss kink, spit, generally gross boys being gross. don’t say i didn’t warn you !!

“You know what’s, like, actually really fucking sad,” Lando says, rolling onto his back so he’s at a weird right-angle to Oscar and craning his neck at a truly stupid angle to look up at him.

Oscar prods him in the head with his socked foot. “Go on. I’m sure this will be very tragic.”

Lando sighs dramatically and bats at Oscar’s foot. “I feel like—how do we even celebrate this?”

They’ve been hanging out in Oscar’s bedroom for nearly three hours now and neither of them has initiated sex, which is bizarre and unnatural. Mostly it’s probably because they’re both still jet-lagged. Oscar’s had a couple of beers already—this is his only cheat day between now and the end of the season and damnit, he wants to take advantage—but largely all it’s doing is making him feel a bit sleepy.

“What do you mean,” he says, and kicks Lando gently in the head again. “Did you want a parade? Naked girls holding signs saying ‘well done Lando and Oscar’ and doing the can-can in the living room?”

“Yeah, I’d take that,” Lando says. “Wait, the can-can? Are you from the past?”

“I’m sure Zak’s planned something extremely cringe for tomorrow,” Oscar says, ignoring him. “And then you can spend an hour bitching about how much you hate it and also hate being the centre of attention.” He finishes the last mouthful of his beer, which is warm and slightly foamy.

Lando groans and flops his arms over his face. “You know how most of them celebrate? I bet George gets, like, a blowjob. That’s his special treat.” The disdain dripping from his voice is something else. He grabs Oscar’s foot and rubs it over his face, because he’s fucking disgusting like that. Oscar’s not a foot guy but he’ll allow it. “Like, a Tuesday for us is basically birthdays and anniversaries for them.”

“‘Them,’” Oscar echoes, putting his empty bottle down so he can do the air quotes.

Lando puts Oscar’s toes into his mouth and chews at them thoughtfully. He really is fucking vile. Oscar’s so fucking fond of him. He curls his toes against Lando’s teeth and then pulls away, grimacing at the feeling of wet sock.

“Normals,” Lando says, and wriggles up to straddle Oscar. “Yanno. The straights.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but grabs Lando by the hips. They tussle briefly, until Oscar gets a hand under Lando’s hoodie and tweaks his nipple, making him yelp and squirm pleasingly over Oscar’s semi. “So you’re saying you’re sad because you’re having too much good sex and you got a podium? Fuck up, mate.”

Lando grins down at him, tongue running along the edges of his sharp little teeth. “I’m just saying. A blowie doesn’t feel like a fitting tribute.”

He has to stifle a giggle as he says ‘blowie’. Oscar scrunches his nose.

“Maybe we need to move onto the weird stuff,” he says idly, stretching his arms out above his head and grabbing the headboard so his t-shirt rides up. Predictably, Lando takes the hint and shoves it the rest of the way up to his armpits, licks a broad hot stripe down his sternum.

“What do you mean, weird stuff,” says Lando against his right pec, sounding hurt. “I thought we already did weird stuff.”

To prove his point, he lifts his head just far enough to spit, saliva dripping from his pursed lips to run in a hot trickle down the dip of Oscar’s stomach. Lando catches it with his tongue before it runs into his navel, licking it back up.

“You are so fucking vile,” Oscar says, like his cock’s not jumping in his sweatpants. “I dunno, you came second, didn’t you? Dealer’s choice.”

Lando pushes himself up then, squinting at Oscar. “Anything I want,” he says, sing-song like he’s testing the waters. His eyes are gleaming.

“Within reason,” Oscar amends. Just in case. To get things moving along a bit faster, he wriggles out of his t-shirt.

Lando tips his head to one side, thoughtful.

“You look like a really stupid dog when you do that,” Oscar tells him, and Lando punches him in the stomach, then immediately undermines his effort to seem offended by tipping himself forward and bracing himself with his hands either side of Oscar’s head so he can rub himself off against Oscar’s thigh.

“Right,” he says, gazing right at Oscar from about four inches away. He’s got annoyingly beautiful eyes, which is a problem because it makes it very hard for Oscar to deny him anything at all, ever. Thank God they race with helmets on. “I wanna piss in your lap.”

It’s so far removed from what Oscar had been expecting to hear—it’s not even a combination of words he’s entirely sure makes sense together—that he splutters into laughter, accidentally knocking their foreheads together. Lando makes a high, offended noise and bites at his jaw.

“That’s not a thing,” Oscar tells him, letting Lando kiss him briefly, tongues sliding messily across each other.

“Yes it is,” Lando says when he pulls back. “I saw it on xHamster.” He bites at Oscar’s top lip, a sharp nip, then sits up, bratty and dishevelled. “C’mon, you said anything I wanted and I wanna try this.”

He’s already tugging at the drawstrings of his sweatpants. Oscar shoves his hands away, trying not to get distracted by the heavy shape of his cock distending the front of them. “Whoa. No piss on the bed, fuck off.”

Lando actually pouts at that, like Oscar’s being somehow unreasonable. Oscar loses his internal battle and cups him through his joggers, rubbing the head with his palm. Lando’s eyelashes flutter pleasingly.

“Fine—ah—fine, we’ll go in the bath then,” he says. His voice has gone slightly breathy already. He’s so easy for it. “Here, bring that blanket for us to lie on.”

He waves a hand at the grey blanket thrown over the chair Oscar uses for laundry storage. “Oh, come on,” Oscar says. “My mum bought that.”

Lando shrugs and slithers off Oscar’s lap to check the label. “Here,” he says, waving it triumphantly. “Machine washable, 40C.” He pronounces it like sees. Probably he’s never met a washing machine in his life.

Oscar lifts his hands in defeat. “Fine. Go on.”

It feels extremely silly watching Lando spread the blanket out across the bottom of the bath and then lying down on it while Lando pulls his hoodie off, trying to keep all the tender bits of his body out of Lando’s way while he gets himself in and straddles Oscar’s lap. It’s not a bad-sized bath, but it’s not really built for two.

He pulls his knees up slightly so Lando’s tipped slightly forward, one hand steadying himself on Oscar’s shoulder, their erections snug against each other with layers of fabric in between.

“This better be worth it,” he says when Lando’s finally got himself settled. “So much admin.”

He can’t help but rock up into the warm weight of Lando across his hips. Lando beams down at him, grinding against him so hard it’s on the verge of crushing his balls, but in a good way, somehow. Oscar lets his head fall back against the bathtub with a dull thunk.

“Alright, alright,” Lando says, breathing noisily. “Shut up, yeah, let me just—“

It’s actually happening, Oscar realises with a senseless thrill down his spine. Half of him hadn’t really believed Lando was going to actually do it, had assumed he’d just named the grossest thing he could think of to fuck with Oscar’s head. Which is probably still true, but.

Lando bites his bottom lip and squirms, screwing his face up. Oscar’s gaze flicks down between their legs just in time to see a wet spot appear on Lando’s sweats, darker green against the neon.

“Fuck,” Oscar says involuntarily, feeling himself flush. His cock kicks in his pants for no discernible reason.

Lando squawks and hits him in the chest. “Don’t commentate!” He writhes, looking briefly agonised. “Oh, you prick. I’ve lost it now. Fuck.”

“Oh my god,” Oscar mutters. “Look, I’ll shut my eyes until you get going, yeah?”

He does so, lifting his hands to cover his eyes. He listens to Lando grumbling under his breath and shifting around on top of him, and then everything goes still and silent. Oscar’s about to take his hands away and ask if everything’s okay, but then Lando lets out a sudden rush of held breath and his fingers tighten on Oscar’s shoulders.

Nothing happens for a second, and then the wetness soaks through Oscar’s joggers and he lets out a strangled gasp.

It’s—not good exactly, but it’s intense. Lando’s grinding lightly against him as he pisses, drenching them both at once. It’s hotter than he’d have expected, both in terms of the temperature of it and the way it makes his cock twitch as his pants begin to stick to him.

And then he opens his eyes and looks at Lando’s face.

He can’t stop his little groan: Lando looks the same way he does when Oscar’s fucking him, head tipped back, bottom lip caught between his incisors, flash of tongue visible behind.

Oscar looks down the line of their bodies, at the soaking patch covering both of their laps, the sodden fabric clinging to the outline of Lando’s erection. He reaches out and covers it with his hand, squeezing him through the dripping fabric, letting it run over his hand. It looks utterly obscene through the wet fabric. He’s really unfairly hung for someone who looks in all other respects like a particularly ripped 12-year-old. Maybe it’s a perspective trick.

Lando slits open his eyes, gazing down at Oscar. He looks fucked-out already, and Oscar grabs at his thighs to give himself more leverage to grind himself up. Lando laughs, a rough sound low in his throat, and shoves his soaked sweatpants down his hips far enough to get his cock out and piss all over Oscar’s stomach.

It’s the wrongness of it that’s the turn-on, Oscar thinks distantly, stomach twitching under the stream. It’s viscerally filthy in a way that he’ll probably have a crisis over later, but right now he couldn’t give a fuck.

“Up a bit,” he says, surprising them both. Lando inhales sharply, the ragged edges of his fingernails biting into Oscar’s shoulder where he’s still holding himself steady with his free hand. He adjusts his angle, sending a stream across Oscar’s chest. It pools into the hollow of his neck, running back into his hair.

Oscar opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue just a bit.

“Oh, you’re nasty,” Lando murmurs, delighted. Oscar raises his eyebrows, curling his tongue. It’s always nice to shock Lando. Rare, but nice.

Lando has to kneel up a bit, slipping on the wet blanket beneath them, and the loss of contact to his dick absolutely fucking sucks, but it’s worth it for his expression when he manages to hit Oscar’s cheek and chin and spray across his tongue.

Oscar splutters a bit, more at the sensation than the taste—it’s not really getting far enough into his mouth to actually taste it, just spitting it back down his chin, letting it run down. Lando’s eyes are blank and unfocused with pleasure, mouth hanging open. Oscar does his best to hold his gaze.

“Fucking gross,” Lando affirms as his stream begins to slow to a trickle, dribbling over his fingers and Oscar’s stomach. He says it like the highest of compliments. His pupils are blown, and he grins loose and pleased before he tips in to kiss Oscar hard, mouth running over his wet skin.

“Your fucking idea,” Oscar says into his mouth, laughing—he can barely get the words out, muffled by Lando sticking his tongue down his throat.

He’s jerking off fast an eager, arm moving so fast Oscar can feel the movement of it through his thighs. Oscar pushes wet hands into his hair, holding him in place as Lando’s mouth falters against his. He’s definitely gonna have beard burn from Lando’s appalling facial hair, but whatever.

Lando moans into his mouth and comes all over Oscar’s stomach. The mess of it immediately begins to slide down Oscar’s side and he sends yet another mental apology to his mum’s blanket before grabbing Lando by the hips and yanking him down to sit on his dick.

Yelping, Lando drops his forearm to Oscar’s shoulder, one hand wrestling his softening cock back into his pants before Oscar accidentally squashes him. Oscar fights him down, thrusting up greedily and trying to pin Lando in place. His brain is wiped clean of all impulses except grinding Lando’s arse against his soaking, trussed-up dick until he comes.

For all he sometimes acts like he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs when he’s not in the car, Lando’s got surprisingly good hip action. Their stomachs slip against each other, slick with Lando’s come. Oscar claws at the small of his back, plants his feet and shoves his hips up to meet each roll of Lando’s.

Lando giggles and shoves three fingers between his parted lips, fucking Oscar’s mouth, smearing spit. Oscar doesn’t even feel bad that he bites down when he comes into his pants, Lando pinned down so hard against him he can hardly breathe.

They sort of collapse against each other once Oscar’s finished shaking and whimpering and sucking on Lando’s fingers to muffle the more embarrassing noises threatening to get out. All at once, Oscar becomes aware that he feels absolutely disgusting. His mouth tastes vaguely of salt.

“Wow,” Lando says after a minute. It takes him a couple of attempts to sit up properly. He looks like Oscar feels: a bit shell-shocked, a lot fucked-out.

“You’re doing the washing,” Oscar mumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Lando grins and ducks down to kiss him again, sweeter now.

“Just leave it all in here and we’ll shower and rinse it all off in one go,” he says, shuffling back until he can offer Oscar a hand to pull him up. “And then we can go lie down and I’ll explain why all your opinions about the new Counter-Strike are wrong.”

“Sounds good,” Oscar says a bit blearily. One thing you can say in Lando’s favour is he doesn’t mind if you nap through his infodumps.

Lando smiles at him in a way that looks worryingly fond and drags himself up to sit on the edge of the tub so he can unhook the shower head and get the water running warm.

“I’d better get thinking,” he says contemplatively.

“About what?” Oscar says, trying to struggle out of his wet pants. He’s gonna get clean and drag himself to bed and sleep for about four hours, and then he’s gonna make Lando fuck him through the mattress.

Lando smirks and aims the shower at his face. “About what I’m gonna do to you when I win.”

#do i put this in the main tag?#yeah fuck it #lando norris/oscar piastri #mctwinks #ln4 #op81 #prompt fill

16 notes · View notes