#i cannot piece together A Thought right now bc holy fuck SO MUCH happened in the last like 10-20 mins of that ep

[uwooyoungs]

ok i just watched dff ep 11 and i. am going insane.

#i cannot piece together A Thought right now bc holy fuck SO MUCH happened in the last like 10-20 mins of that ep #my only thought is that it seems the finale is going to be v much based on each character's fears #as ig theyre all currently knocked out on hallucinogenics #im. I STILL NEED TO KNOW WTF FLUKE'S DEAL IS #and it looks like white rly is just sweet bby boy :((( #never thought id feel so fhckin sad for tee #everyone's theories about non were (maybe??? seemed pretty real) proved wrong #new/tan rly is unhinged as all fuck #phee truly stuck himself into a serious moral dilemma #mad kudos to barcode as usual #big fuckin kudos to all of them tbf #also im still a weeee bit confused abt perth lmao #there were all these big theories but like unless he shows up or does smth in the last ep... #idk i felt like he didnt add a lot to the story in this ep?? #wow i lied apparently i did have thoughts #dff #dff the series #dead friend forever

[i8jisoo]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 ⇉ skz with pregnant!reader 

changbin x reader | part three of dad!skz

↬ genre; fluff & angst for a lil bit woo

↬ warnings; talk of perinatal depression, cursing, n labor 

↬ notes; changbin babi 🥺  ALSO ITS CHANGBIN DAY WOOO ITS MY BABYS BDAYYYYY SO I HAD TO POST THIS |

u two had just freshly started an official, public relationship

ofc changbin was freaking out while he was chilling in the bathtub behind the curtain so u could pee on the test already

u two were looking at the line coming in, praying that there would be only o n e 😳

slowly the other line comes in, dark blue n clear alongside the other one

“holy fuck—“

“what do we do?” you asked, your voice wavering while setting the test back down

his hands cupped your face, giving u a soft kiss n hugging you

“we got this, we’re having a baby, baby!” he started to joke and yall burst out laughing while crying in the bathroom

the first few months were amazing

ur lil bump sprouted out n u two were so happy about it

changbin is just so attentive and excited about this pregnancy and his first born

u really couldn’t have been better with ur lil family that was starting to become realer with each day

u two r such bullies yall r like

“what happened? ur a softie now binnie!!”

n he’d say shit like, “well at least i don’t pee every hour on the clock!!”

he makes u cry one time n u use that against him everytime u want something bc he feels guilty >:)

cute lil things like asking the baby what they want to eat or talking to it before the bed

(changbin reads the baby goodnight moon one time and ur just so in love like wow 🥺)

he secretly talks to the baby when you sleep every night because hes waiting for when ur little bean will reply back with a kick or a hand

he is W H I P P E D for u n ur baby bump

nursery is already done at five months

he needs all of the boys to come over though to help him figure out the instructions 😳 these are co nfusi ngg

they notice how smiley n giggly he is when he talks about u two and looking at the finished crib hes just so proud

yall r so happy and content with ur baby that was an accident, but u guys are so happy this happened

but something changes within u

changbin notices your lack of interest in the pregnancy during ur sixth month

ur sleeping pattern was off n u would sleep for hours during the day and night

u were very irritable, not wanting changbin to cuddle with u or kiss u like he did everytime he came back from practice :(

u were always unhappy and always so moody, he just wanted u to be happy 🥺

he is so confused and worried ab u, some days ur not eating or some days u don’t even wake up in the mornings like u used to

sometimes— just sometimes he’d come back home to find u in the same spot, asleep

he’s so fucking scared when ur around seven months that he can’t hold it in anymore

“are—are you okay?” he questions u from the doorway, making u stop to look at him in the mirror

ur eyes were cold, setting down the towel u were drying ur hair with and leaving him by himself while heading into ur bedroom

“don’t you dare fucking walk away from me.”

ur s h oo k

he was really nice during the pregnancy everyday, super bubbly and kind so u were shocked to hear his upset tone

“i can and i will, i’ll just go sleep in another fuckin room.” u mumbled, changbin grabbing ur hands and turning u around to face him

u struggle for a bit while ur arguing with him and telling him to let go so u could go to sleep

“stop! i am your boyfriend, i am the only one who is going to care for you like this. i am the only one who is dying, seeing you like this. do you understand? we’ve been through seven months of this together, it was fine for awhile and now you’re fucking turning me away?”

hes shouting at this point, hes just so pissed after three months of not having answers and your attitudes and arguments, he cannot handle it

u start crying

hes quick to hold you, pulling u down to the bed so u don’t have to stand on ur tired feet anymore

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 🥺🥺🥺

he insists u two will find out n u both will get thru this rough patch together

perinatal depression, they diagnosed u

changbin is so upset when he hears the doctors tell u

everything is making sense to him and he’s just so heartbroken he didn’t put two and two together earlier

he takes time off for the time being to make sure ur taking care of urself

hes watching u like a hawk but trying not to make it evident

the first time u ask him for a kiss, he gives u dozens

he hadn't been asked for kisses in so long he was so relieved 🥺

he’s constantly telling u how beautiful u r and talking to ur bump about how they have the best genes and their uncles

this man is a father already it seems

he is ur #1 face mask partner cause he buys the cute ones only because u deserve the cute ones that r ur favorite ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

cooking together is something that happens, not often but every once in awhile he will let u do small things

cut up some lettuce? sure! pour in the soup broth? of course u can! taste test his food? always.

he wants to make sure ur comfortable with him touching u or kissing u or what hes saying

“i love you.” he’s mumbling, quickly placing a kiss against the fabric of one of his own shirts that was worn by u and fit u like a dress still

he then goes up to ur cheek n presses a kiss to it, ur hand cupping his jaw and letting him kiss ur lips >.<

also u guys let out a quiet talk of pregnancy to the public, letting jyp release a notice on changbin’s absence from live-streams and posts with the boys

u two received a lot of positive feedback which changbin let u read the positive ones n loved when u smiled at each one

u were overdue by a week which was the worst, ur back hurt and u had migraines

u also were put on bed-rest for the next week before u could be inducted

u guys waited out the week and u got scheduled for an induction

the labor was really slow which sucked because u just wanted to hold ur baby already :(

rly intimate moments like chan just holding u n rocking u like a baby

u guys are given this position to move the baby down, your knees on the ground so u could kneel against the bed and changbin would hold ur hips n rock them

he just feels so bad he can’t do anything to help u with the pain 🥺

yall kinda vibing with the hospital food (idk bout yall but some food from hospitals smack chile)

“i just want to go home.” :(

u bet ur ass he scoots into ur hospital bed, holding ur hands n u just cry into his shoulder

he feels like his heart is being torn to pieces when he listens to u cry out of pain

his free hands holds your jaw, making u look up at him

“we’re almost done baby, okay? i know it hurts, if i could i would take your pain in a heartbeat. you are incredibly strong and i’m so proud of you. you just need to hang in here for a few more hours, yeah? you think you can do that?”

u give him the weakest smile ever but its better than nothing

u reach 10cm!!!

now the part that wasn’t fun was the pushing :/

u were hurting, u were tired, and u had been promised almost seven times that all u need was one more push but no matter what, it seemed like the baby wasnt budging

“the cord is wrapped around the neck, we need you to stop pushing. okay?”

ur too tired and stopping the pushing sounded good so u did as they said but when they told u they needed to actually reach in and unwrap it ur blood ran cold

u both were worried about how much u could take

u screamed, god it hurt and it felt like hours of them twisting but it was a mere minute

the labor progressed n there it was

“a girl!”

u two are like faucets or waterfalls

shes literally the perfect mixture of u both 🥺

he washed her hair n helped wrap her up in a blanket, giving her over to u for the first time

u both were just in love with her, she was absolutely perfect

he’s obsessed with her, taking in that baby scent, the scent of the light baby shampoo and the bit of baby powder that lingered throughout her onesie

her hair wooooww its so soft n fluffy

her little baby pout and her puffy cheeks

i can see him calling her bunny for awhile as a childhood nickname

he’ll just be like

“oh that’s my bunny!!”

weird look from u but ur heart melts while he bounces her in his arms n gives her some kissies and running his fingers thru her hair

he’s also rly soft, i don’t see him singing but i see him definitely whispering to her about how she’s gonna grow up and have the best life because thats his little girl

“ur gonna have eight uncles, they are crazy but it’s okay. u definitely lucked out on fathers though, i’m pretty good at lullaby's. u did get great genes too, u have a handsome daddy and a gorgeous mommy. we worked really hard on making u, please don’t hurt ur cute little face. u also have a storm coming, there’s a thing called stays, they are gonna adore you, i promise.”

omgomgomgomg jejejejeje im blushing at the thought of this i just adore dad changbin 

u guys may or may not be planning for another but it definitely would happen in a few years

©️ maysdiors 2020 :: all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #changbin #seo changbin #changbin x reader #skz x reader #pregnant!reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids au #skz fluff #skz angst #skz au #dad!skz #dad!stray kids #bangchan #minho #lee know #hyunjin #jisung #han #han jisung #felix #felix yongbok lee #seungmin #i.n #jeongin x reader #jeongin

[the-hopeless-haze]

Oh, My Precious Whore

A/N: didn’t really think I’d ever be posting fic on here again… but I am tired and need a distraction so… have this as a treat

Pairing: Claire Underwood x f!reader, implied Duncan Shepherd x f!reader

CW: derogatory pet names, implied smut (will not occur in full until the next part)

Description: idk this is just pure filth bc there’s a severe lack of f!reader fic and… Robin Wright is hot af. Also had to throw in some Duncan in there bc I love Cody Fern

Maybe you should feel worse right now about what you’re doing, but you don’t.

You, at the very least, should feel scared. The Underwoods, or well, Underwood... she was a powerful woman and if you stepped a millimeter out of place your life was likely in danger. Or so they said. Your in-laws were wary of her, you know, but she was wary of them, too. You think. She’s a difficult woman to read.

The rumors concerning the crimes her late husband supposedly committed are lengthy and convoluted, but you suspect they hold some truth to them. Most rumors usually aren’t based totally in fiction. Her husband was truly a ruthless motherfucker. Claire... Claire doesn’t seem to be ruthless. Nor does she seem to be what you would describe as a motherfucker.

No, she’s a cold hearted bitch. A bitter, sociopathic cunt.

But you never wanted what was good for you.

Sometimes, you swear you love Duncan and you wish it was easier to convince yourself. He a good husband, all things considered. Perhaps a little too focused on work, but... he treats you well to make up for it. He is loyal to a fault, if anyone ever was. You met him through a friend, and though it makes you feel guilty you used him in a vain attempt to get closer to Annette.

But Annette didn’t swing your way, as she told you in not so many words. Or, rather, she said, “Just be a good pet and marry my son. You on his arm will do well for everyone all around. Your dalliances on the side are no one’s business as long as you keep them secret enough that not even Duncan finds out.”

So you agreed, and accepted his proposal you figured she no doubt hounded him into. It’s not so much that you don’t like men, you do, and Duncan is such an attractive man, and he’s a thorough lover... it’s just you suppose you have a preference for women. Older women. You used to joke in high school that you wanted to be a high-end escort for rich older women getting away from their CEO husbands for the weekend.

But your parents would have never approved of that plan. So you went to law school instead. Which was fine. You make decent money without Duncan, but with him you’re somewhat of a young, hot power couple. You’re not really interested in policy the way his family is - you just like ingratiating yourself amongst these people with influence. You get off on brushing shoulders with the powerful. Parties don’t mean much to you. Everyone is truly an evil son of a bitch, no matter what they say when the cameras are on. No one cares about progress, not unless it’s self-serving.

The first time you met Claire, you thought you might die. She barely gave Duncan a second glance but you? She stood and chatted with you about your latest case your firm had taken - how she knew about it among all the other things on her mind, you don’t know - but it was a pleasant conversation, all things considered. You know her and Annette used to be close. You wonder how much Claire does know about you.

You know you can’t trust her. At all.

But after that incident, Duncan grinned and shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to give credence to those rumors. She might have it out for you.”

“Rumors?” You asked, panicking already. Did he know?

“That Claire is a lesbian. It’s been floating around some circles, that that’s why she wasn’t truly upset at her husband’s death, that that’s why she’s pushing so hard for female rights. It’s interesting. It is the first time I met her, but having done so it wouldn’t entirely surprise me.”

You can tell. That woman probably isn’t a lesbian, or if she is, she’s very good at utilizing her charm to make it seem as though she’s not. If anything, you’d peg her as asexual. She uses sex as a weapon. Fair enough. You’ve seen even weaker women feel the need to use it.

You wonder if she’s ever had sex purely for herself and not for manipulation purposes.

You wonder if she could even do that. You reckon you don’t really care if you found out the hard way.

It’s a few weeks later that you receive a message stating the President required your audience. And you know you should tell Annette, or Duncan at the very least, but you don’t. You know you shouldn’t show up at all. But Annette said to keep your dalliances secret. So secret they will stay.

“How loyal are you to the Shepherds?” Claire asks when you arrive. Straight to the point. Good.

“As loyal as I have to appear,” you tell her.

Claire smiles a little. “Why did you marry Duncan? He doesn’t seem quite your type.”

“And what do you presume my type is?”

“Perhaps more feminine. Older.”

“Mm. And what is your type, Ms President?”

“Why did you marry him? Did Annette threaten to out you?” she repeats.

“Not in so many words,” you say.

“Hmm. Interesting. He has no idea, I presume?”

“Why did you call me here?” you ask, your anxiety getting the better of you.

“I need information on the Shepherds. And I believe I have something you’d want in return.”

Your head starts spinning, but no, spinning is an understatement. It’s fucking doing somersaults. You cannot believe what she’s proposing.

“You want to prostitute yourself to me for information?”

And Claire does the last thing you ever expected the bitch to do. She walks across the room and slaps you across the face. Hard enough to sting, but not as hard as you bet she could. You feel the cold metal of her wedding ring press against your cheek as she grabs your chin, her cold blue eyes piercing through to your soul. “Don’t you dare fucking accuse the president of the United States of debasement, and don’t ever assume you have the upper hand.”

“Claire—“

“Are we on first name basis, slut?” she asks, her hand slithering down to your throat. Holy shit, you think. This bitch might actually fucking kill me. You think you’d care more if this wasn’t possibly the hottest thing that ever happened to you. “I didn’t think so. Now. What are your loyalties? Who are you closest to?”

“Duncan, obviously. Annette lets her guard down around me because she likes that I think she’s hot, but she still doesn’t like me. Bill and I don’t get along.”

“Interesting. How much does Duncan know?”

“I know more than Duncan.”

“Really, now? Are you just saying that? Because if you don’t prove to be useful...”

“What? You’ll kill me?”

Claire laughs. “No, you’re much more fun to me alive. But tell me… do you know where Duncan came from?”

“I mean, I truly don’t know how Annette’s cunt could birth anything, given how much of a bitch she is, but…”

Claire smiles. “Yes. Much more fun alive. Duncan is not her child.”

“Well, that’s a relief I don’t have any chance of keeping the Shepherd bloodline alive,” you snicker. “Where did he come from, then?”

“I’ll tell you… in time. But you have to tell him, too. In front of Annette and Bill. I want them all to know.”

“They’ll skin me alive if they knew I was here.”

“Do you want to fuck me or not? These are my terms.”

“So that is why I’m here?”

She only smirks at you, the wrinkles around her blue eyes crinkling as she does. “Your attraction to me is far more interesting than... well, men are pigs, right? I’m sure you are well aware. But you, you look at me like you want to fuck me, sure, but you also know your place. You respect me, even if you try to talk back. Men don’t know any better.”

“Have you ever slept with a woman before?”

She only smiles. “Does it matter?”

“Just wanted to know if there was credence to the rumors.”

“Rumors? You’re quite bold. I’m the one with my hand...wrapped around your throat.”

“It’d be pretty messy for you if you killed me right now,” you retort, wincing and rubbing your legs together as she increases the pressure on your neck.

“You’ll learn not to talk back, whore. To think you’re a married woman...”

“Yeah? Did you hold your marriage sacrosanct?”

There’s that smile again. She’s beautiful, ethereal, but there’s something so inhumane about the way her lips move upward to smirk at you. Maybe you should learn to shut your mouth, but you always were a brat. Besides, it’s more fun this way.

“I did.”

“Liar,” you accuse, smirking at her as you do, and she lets go of your throat and before you can miss the feeling too much she slaps your face again, the right cheek this time, much harder than the first time. You let out a startled, strangled moan on impulse, stumbling back a little against the wall.

“Oh, did that hurt?” she coos at you condescendingly, fixing a piece of your hair that fell out of place as you stand back up, pressing your back flat against the wall for stability. Claire crosses her arms and stands directly in front of you.

“I can take it. I can take more than that,” you say boldly.

“Oh? What else do you like, slut?”

“You name it, I’m game.”

“Anything? Handcuffs? Whips? Knives?”

You nod at everything she comes up with. Jesus, you would let this woman carve out your heart if she wanted it.

“If I make you bleed?”

“Better.”

“Interesting. Does Duncan play these little games with you?”

You laugh. “No.”

“You only want a woman to do these things to you?”

“Precisely. Are you kinky, Madam President?”

“Whatever my partner requires... I make certain I provide.”

“But what do you want?”

“I’m a hard woman to please.”

“Oh. Is that the kind way of saying Frank wasn’t good in bed?” you ask, feigning sympathy. She only smirks again. “I’m surprised you didn’t slap me for that. He must have really been awful.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Women do everything better,” you laugh, earning perhaps the only genuine smile you’ve gotten from this woman the whole time. “That’s why I wanted to know if you’ve been with a woman...”

“No. But I’ve thought about it. Never had a woman as interested as you.”

“I find that very hard to believe. Maybe you just never noticed. What gave it away?” You’re aching for her to touch you again, give you anything, even pain, but she stands still in front of you.

“I can just tell. Besides, I was interested to meet you. You’re the Shepherd’s weak link. I knew Annette didn’t vet you carefully enough.”

“Are you saying me being gay is an issue?”

“Are you so naive to think it wouldn’t be, given the state of this country?” she retorts. “But that’s not all. I can tell you don’t like them. I could tell you were easy... on more than one account.”

You roll your eyes. “I fucking hate Bill. I mean it’s awful to say, he’s not doing well physically, but he’s just made life a living hell for me.”

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I don’t know. Maybe he hates gay people. Maybe he hates women. Both. Don’t know.”

“So everyone knows but Duncan? Funny how he’s kept out of all the good family secrets that concern him.”

You sigh. “See, sexuality’s a funny thing. I like Duncan. I do. And sometimes sex with him is good if not great. He’s a good partner. But I just prefer women.”

“Must be nice to have it figured out. Your generation did have it easier.”

You look at her questioningly. You never thought someone like her was human enough to struggle with such a thing, but perhaps that’s an unfair assessment.

Or she’s playing you.

Still. She’d have to be quite a good player - not that you should underestimate her skill - to talk about something as personal as her struggles with sexuality. Straight people just don’t get it. Would she really be this easily well versed if it was a game?

“There’s still a long ways to go,” you say.

“I intend to rectify that.”

“Of course you do.”

Her eyes narrow at you and she tilts her head. “Do you think I should be doing better?”

“Yeah. Come out, for starters.”

“Says the woman in a sham marriage.”

“It’s not a sham. I love Duncan,” you protest.

“Then why are you here, selling out his family just for a chance to fuck me? You’re not much better than I am.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you anything yet. Besides. It’s not his real family… as you say.”

“No. You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know. But I haven’t fucked you yet either, have I?”

“Touché.”

“Come over here,” she beckons, leaning against the desk and once again it strikes you where you are - the fucking Oval Office. Are you seriously going to have sex in the Oval Office? Conservatives would be disgusted by this (although it wouldn’t be the first time this office was defiled). “Don’t look so scared now. You can’t back out at this point.”

You nod, trying not to look as nervous as you feel and walk the few steps over to her, your legs inches from hers. God, you’re practically dying from the anticipation alone.

“Does Duncan ever tell you how beautiful you are?” She asks. You’re absolutely shellshocked. There’s no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

“Sometimes,” you murmur.

“Just like men to not appreciate what they have.”

“Mm. Frank didn’t appreciate you, Claire? Didn’t make you feel good? I would. If you were my wife I’d make you come every fucking day,” you say, and boldly you decide to punctuate that statement by pressing your lips to hers.

Mistake. Or maybe not, you don’t know.

Her hands tangle in your hair and you feel her stand up, press against you firmly before backing you into the desk, pushing you onto it until your back is flat on the wood, and she’s hovering over you, her lips ghosting yours.

“I’m a hard woman to please,” she reiterates and you realize she never fucking lost her breath while you feel like the wind was knocked out of you. “I’m ambivalent about attention in general. But look at you, whore. You crave it, don’t you? Just want someone to tell you that you’re a good girl... oh, look at you squeeze your thighs together. Are you wet for me, slut?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You ask, spreading your legs slightly for her.

She shakes her head, her straight platinum locks shifting as she does so, brushing against your face. “See? You’re not a good girl. You’re a dirty filthy whore and you just don’t know when to shut that whore mouth or close your fucking legs.”

You stay silent - you’re not sure what to do now. Do you antagonize her, push her further, see if it will rile her up again? Or do you try and kiss her again?

Claire has other ideas. “Beg,” she hisses in your ear. “Get down on your knees and beg for me.”

—- and I am evil and ending it there! Plz let me know if I should continue this!

#claire underwood #Claire Underwood x reader #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x you #Claire Underwood x you #duncan shepherd x reader #house of cards #hoc #wlw smut #wlw fic #robin wright

[originalcontent]

Well. Forgot to make our final pathologic post, because we did it, we finished the game. We just played all the remaining days at once. Not going to go super hard on the plot details bc if you know them then you know them, all I can say is holy shiiiiiiit this was such a good story/mystery/choice/everything.

First order of business: casualties.

All the children except Grace survived. When we had five panaceas, we chose Sticky, Murky, Khan, Notkin, and Capella, and we weren't able to find any more shmowders until it was too late. Taya was lucky and Grace wasn't. I feel kinda bad but also I don't know what more we could have done. God all of the kids and their final conversations when they all think they're going to die, they're so sad and sweet and I love them all so much.

The thing I'm SUPER bummed about is that Stakh, Lara, and Bad Grief all died. Like we did everything we could for all of them, but I'm still sad about it. One regret from this game is that I think we should have spent more time with them. I should have tried to make things right with them. I was so focused on the kids, and I don't regret that, but also I kept putting other things before them as well and I should have tried harder.

The other casualties were Big Vlad, Maria Kaina, Eva Yan, and Anna Angel, who was apparently a character but I think we literally never spoke with her in our playthrough. And Aglaya, although I don't know how we could have saved her either. Everyone else survived. I don't know the typical death toll for this game, but we did better than I was expecting us to, all things considered.

Oh wait, Nara's also dead. That wasn't an incredibly disturbing scene or anything. Like I'm getting ahead of myself a bit but jesus the kinfolk terrify me sometimes. My sister mentioned that it's probably a very different game if we commit super hard to exploring their plotline, and she's probably right. That whole sequence though... the blood, the hearts... it's a lot. I'm not going into detail bc if you've played the game then you already know what's down there, but hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I feel like replaying this game knowing everything would put a LOT of earlier conversations into new context.

Still! That was the only place we death spiraled this time! Death spiral escaped! That's probably due in no small part to the presence of the soldiers. Like yes they're terrible and them burning people alive is terrifying, but also we discovered the strategy that every time we were attacked by someone we could just have them chase us past a soldier who would protect us. We still had to sneak around a lot but overall it meant we had a lot fewer fights.

The polyhedron was gorgeous. We probably wasted a lot of time visiting it, but it was wonderful. I wanted to go back when all the kids were there but they didn't let us. Super into the earth/sky dichotomy of Notkin's and Khan's gangs.

Block was sure something. When I first met him he was meeting with my three [living :(] best friends but none of them would talk to me. Anyway. When he arrives everyone's saying they loved him, then later on we accidentally walk into the most obvious coup ever, and then the next day he's back in charge like nothing happened. And then on the last day there's this massive violent internal conflict? Plus the whole thing with him and Aglaya (weren't they working together in the prologue?) and plus they keep giving us heart attacks saying they're going to level the town and then changing their minds. Thank god for Changeling who was apparently the single persuasive voice in saving everyone? I guess? We've had our ups and downs but honestly she was waaaaaaay more reliable than Daniil at the end.

I told her I'd help her cure a patient in the hospital, but I didn't have any panacea or shmowder so in the end I couldn't, but afterwards I was glad I hadn't helped her. I already felt terrible I didn't have enough living blood for all the children when they were all spontaneously infected, and it would have been so much worse if I had been able to help another but I'd wasted it on a random person earlier.

... Is Aglaya in love with Artemy? Or are they just two agents who recognize said agency in one another? Everyone spent all game hyping her up as some sort of monster but she was my friend and she listened to me. And she died trying to save everyone I guess.

The kids...just. All of them. Notkin and Capella both told us to let them die but to make sure Khan was okay. Murky saying she'd loved Artemy since the first time she saw him. God everything they said and did I love them. I can't imagine playing this game as either of the other characters because I can't imagine going through this town and not carrying deeply about all the kids like this.

So I think...I think I made my choice long before I actually made the choice itself, you know? There was only ever going to be one choice.

Day 11 was the first and only day when I knew exactly what I had to do. I mean I guess it was in the stage directions and everything. Thank you dear Fellow Traveler for feeding us the night before--did you know we'd never visited the dead item shop until the last night? Probably would have made finding food and medicine a lot easier. But anyway, when the day began I didn't quite understand the significance of the stage directions because the Haruspex looking for couriers did not sound like the dramatic climax to the story that I knew this day was supposed to be. Still, I looked for the couriers.

I think I visited the three locations in the order I was supposed to. Seeing Daniil like that with his gun and bloody hands, sitting in a room of corpses...hearing him ramble...oh man I was so conflicted, this whole game I'd thought that even though I teased him, I would always ultimately back his plays because I trusted him and I knew that ultimately he wanted to help people too. Hearing him tell me what he wanted me to do then at the end of everything...he honestly scared me a bit.

The Changeling and I seemed much more on the same page at the end of everything. Being in the middle of a field with armed soldiers closing in from all sides was kind of terrifying though. I didn't stay to witness what she did with them. She’s okay though, she’s alive.

Wild goose chase for the final courier eventually took me to the bar where I met an injured bandit and was able to actually perform a surgery for the first time in the entire fucking game. I really enjoyed that because I'm supposed to be a fucking surgeon.

Meeting my understudy fucking killed me. I cannot BELIEVE that the final courier who was carrying the only file that could save the whole town was canonically murdered by the understudy of the protagonist. How the hell is that a real plot point, do you have any idea how much I adore that, that is more meta than literally anything else that has happened in this whole game. I fucking died. I definitely have been playing this game as Artemy rather than as Actor, and I think that made the whole scene even funnier. His whole thing about taking a new direction with the character, the whole "you're getting paid for this??", the fact that Artemy was so offended by literally every aspect of his existence that we didn't even know what to criticize. At the end I was like "yeah I'm definitely going to kill this guy" but we're nice people and we let him surrender. His inventory consisted of a rusty scalpel, a hazelnut, and a single piece of twyre, which was the most incredible parody of Artemy's inventory that I can imagine and killed me all over again.

The kin folk all met with me and begged me not to let them die. Maybe things could have been different, but again, I knew my choice and deep down I always knew what we were going to choose at the end. When you start the game, day one, there are two things that are immediately striking about the town. One, it's full of living folklore, and two, it's full of children, and those are the two things that make the town special and wonderful. When you look back on it all, there was only ever one way this could all end.

The dead courier (murdered by my own fucking understudy rather than an actual character, still dying) was a dramatic sight. It's lucky I had to sleep then or I probably wouldn't have found him.

After I made my choice, the disease tried to murder me. It infected literally every district I moved through, manifesting in every single passageway. I just chugged my tinctures and moved as well as I could, because fuck you disease, you are nothing to me. Obviously at that point nothing really could stop me. I considered saving in the cathedral, but what would be the point?

Day 12 was so bright and peaceful and nice. I could just walk around for once with no fear of getting lost or hungry or running out of time. I'm still really sad my childhood friends weren't alive to share it with me, but I enjoyed talking to everyone. My favorite little end conversations were Taya and Notkin for sheer adorable factor, Yulia so Artemy could say he wanted her to be the one to tell his story and to make it as undramatic as possible (fuck you Mark), Daniil because it was super cute and I’m glad that after it all things are okay between us and I got to make fun of him for trying to talk in my language, and Andrey and Peter because literally nothing made me feel better about my choice to destroy the polyhedron than listening to them complain about it.

And then the theater, where I talked to everyone who'd died and to Mark Immortell. He told me he'd need to try again with a different protagonist (gee I wonder who he could be referring to, such a shame we'll never know) and that I could go into the back and take off my mask now. I considered it for a bit, but it didn't feel right, so I decided that I was Artemy and I went back outside.

This game was wonderful. It was beautiful. It has such a fundamental understanding of what theater is and what makes something theatrical (lose me with your cinematic games, theater and cinema are completely different things and the former is impossibly beautiful but is also almost impossible to recreate when not in person). It's worldbuilding was immaculate, and for all the stress it caused I'm really happy for it.

I say this every time, but I love Artemy so fucking much. Give me a character who is a monster and a healer and who is full of anger but also so much love, and then just have him adopt 7+ children why don't you. He is so wonderful and good and interesting and I am in love with him.

(Edit: And then like a month later, just now, we went back to our last save and threw the documents in the trash so we could play through the other ending. I think the diurnal ending is definitely the better one, although it was nice to see the polyhedron again and to talk to all the game developers. <3 Also the goodbyes to Daniil and Notkin were super sad in that one, I did what Daniil wanted, he won’t even stay? This is so sad.)

Well that's our pathologic playthrough. We know there's a lot we missed and we may return to the game at some point. (Looked up a plot summary afterwards and there’s just so much else. Must save my childhood friends next time.) Game is very good though. It's been wild. Marbles sometime in the next few days. :)

#kj plays pathologic #pathologic #pathologic 2 #this has been in my drafts sorry d: #thanks for reading everyone

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Swansong || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || sequel to ‘debut’. it’s sixteen years after you and roger first started dating. fourteen years since you graduated university. eight years since you married someone else. three weeks since you realised your husband was cheating on you. what are the chances that you run into roger, after all this time?

rating || family friendly, folks, apart from a few swear words here and there. just angst. pure angst, basically. with a christmassy, festive vibe.

word count || 5.8k (somehow, for fuck’s sake)

author’s notes || so, i’ve had quite a few people ask about a ‘debut’ sequel. surprise! here’s the sequel that i’m sure none of you were after. the idea just popped into my head and, despite the fact that i do not like reading angst (or writing, generally), here i am. also, this is a much older roger than i normally write for (he’s 52 in this), but i still wouldn’t call it pd roger by any means. this video is what i pictured when i was writing him - he was actually 52 years old in 1999, so it works perfectly. roger talks about his kids in this fic, but bc this is an alternate universe, of course, i’ve not used the names of his real kids. (sidenote: there’s an oc in here whose name is naoise - it’s pronounced ‘neesha’!)

masterlist

     “I can’t do this anymore. I have to break up with him right now. I have to.”

    Justine grabs your wrist, snatching your phone from your hand. “No, are you serious? What are you going to do, break up with him over the phone? Text him?”

    Your bottom lip trembles, and you feel tears well in your eyes. “I can’t deal with this anymore, Juss. He hates me.”

    “He doesn’t hate you.” Justine sets your phone down on the table, and cups your cheeks in her hands, brushing the tears away with her thumbs. “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Deep breath. In and out. With me.”

    You follow her lead – a shaky breath in, a shaky breath out.

    “I’m sorry you’re going through this,” she murmurs. “I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, especially not my best friend. But you have to hold it together until after Christmas, okay? Just two more weeks. For April.”

    You nod, and take another steady breath. “For April.” April, your daughter, the love of your life.

    “Let’s just go to this stupid party, all right?” Justine said. “Go fix your make-up, I’ll call an Uber.”

    You nod, she gives you a warm, sad smile, and you head to the bathroom.

    You take a drink of water and sigh heavily, then dig out your make-up to fix your foundation and mascara. Fuck him, you think to yourself. Fuck him for ruining everything. Eight years of marriage. Hope that side piece was worth it.

    You’re not sure if he knows that you know about… all of that. But you have your suspicions. He’s not exactly trying to hide it. Coming home late, smelling of another woman’s perfume, having no other excuse other than he’s ‘working late’. He’s been telling you for weeks that he’s just been ‘too tired’ for sex.

    But he’s with April tonight, while you and Justine are heading to the Christmas party of an old friend from uni.

    You tell yourself it’ll be a fun night. It’ll be nice to get away from home for a few hours, anyway.

    The host, Naoise, welcomes the both of you with a glamorous smile and kisses on the cheek, and waves you over with a manicured hand to the drinks table. You recognise a few familiar faces in the room, but you and Justine stick mostly together. Christmas music – mostly Michael Bublé, from what you can hear – croons in the background, just underneath the hum of conversation.

    “She was always good at throwing these things, wasn’t she?” Justine murmurs into her glass of champagne.

    You nod and hum in agreement, trying to surreptitiously cram an appetiser into your mouth and eat it as quickly as possible. “Nice of her to invite us,” you manage to mumble around the mouthful.

    “Yeah,” Justine says. “Naoise was always lovely.”

    “Have you met her kids?”

    “Yeah. She had them young, didn’t she? Right out of uni? They’re, what, ten and twelve now?”

    You finally swallow the food. “Christ.” You pick up your wine and take a gulp to wash it down. “Uh, yeah, I think so. She and Chin got married, like, a month after we graduated or something. Can you imagine April being that old?”

    Justine snorts. “I thought I had my kids young. But she seems happy, so I’m happy for her.”

    “Mm, yeah.” You take another sip of wine. “Wow. Getting married at, like, twenty-one, twenty-two. Oof.”

    “Right?” Justine says lowly. “Like, I would’ve been terrified. I was dating Amanda.”

    Your eyes widen. “Holy shit, Amanda. I forgot all about her.”

    “I know! I can’t believe we dated for almost three years. Even I forget about her sometimes. Can’t imagine being married to her. Eugh. Plus, if Amanda hadn’t dumped me six months after graduation, then I never would’ve met Jules. I wouldn’t have the kids I have now.”

    “Weird.”

    “Yeah. Weird.” Justine’s eyes idly meander over the mingling crowd, and then she looks to you. “Out of everyone you dated at uni, who would you have married? If you had to choose.”

    You sigh. “Juss, I don’t know if I wanna talk about marriage and stuff right now. Not marriage when it’s got anything to do with me, anyway.”

    “Right, of course. Sorry.”

    “It’s fine.” You give her a reassuring smile.

    The two of you drink in silence. You know you should be mingling with everyone else, making small talk, but it’s been a rough couple of weeks, to put it lightly. And everyone will be asking how’s Will? and all of those casual questions and you’ll feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable and bitter that everyone is prying into your personal life, even if they aren’t, they’re just being polite, and that’s just too much to think about.

    So staying by the snacks table it is.

    “Roger,” you say softly.

    “Hm?”

    You chew on the inside of your cheek, and glance at Justine. “I, um– I would’ve married Roger. You remember him? Second year? The older guy?”

    Justine gives you a look. “Uh, do I remember him? The guy who was, like, twenty years older than you and you lost your virginity to? He paid you for it? Yes, I remember him.”

    “Sixteen years, thanks,” you correct her. “And he didn’t mean to pay me for it, it was a mix-up, his friends set him up, and– oh, whatever, you know the story, I don’t know why I’m telling you again.”

    “I’m just saying, hard to forget something like that,” Justine says. “You would’ve married him?”

    You nod. “Given time, yeah, I think so. There was just something about him, y’know? I mean, it makes sense why we didn’t work out. He was older, and I had uni, and I’d never really dated before, all of that. I think it was just a matter of wrong place, wrong time. But he’s – well, everyone has their ‘one that got away’, don’t they?”

    “I guess,” Justine says. She thinks for a moment, and then says, “I used to think mine was the girl I dated all through high school, Kayla. Then I met Jules.”

    “Really?” you say. “You don’t have anyone who you think would have been your perfect match, had things just been a little different?”

    Justine shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe at the time. But not now.”

    You look away, and finish the rest of your wine. “I’m getting another glass,” you mutter.

    “Hey, hey, [Y/N],” Justine says, taking your wrist. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

    You shake your head. “It’s not your fault.” You hesitate, and then say, “Am I a bad wife for– for thinking that? Even after Will and I got married, I– I mean, I never wished I had Roger instead of Will, but I just always knew that, if things had been different, then I know I would’ve ended up with Roger.”

    “No,” Justine says firmly. “No. You were never a bad wife. You’re still not. Don’t ever think that.”

    You take a moment to drink this in, and then say, “You know, I’m the same age now that Roger was when I first started dating him?” You let out a laugh. “Oh my God, I’m thirty-six. When the fuck did that happen?”

    Justine chuckles. “I know. I still feel twenty.”

    “I still feel seventeen, sometimes.”

    “I don’t think that ever changes.”

    “No, maybe not.” You twirl the empty wine glass in your fingers. “I was head-over-heels for that guy.”

    “For Roger?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Yeah, I could tell,” Justine says with a grin. “I always thought it was just because the sex was really good. And he had the money to buy you nice stuff.”

    “All of that helped,” you say lightly, and Justine laughs. “But he was just such a good guy as well. He was such a good listener, and he was so thoughtful and patient and understanding, and, I don’t know if you remember, but he used to do this thing where he’d invite me over if I’d had a hard day at uni, and when I arrived, he’d have a bubble bath all ready for me, and some snacks, and he just…” You trail away. No point in getting too caught up in the memories.

    “I always liked him,” Justine says. “After I got over the age gap. For what it’s worth, I think he really liked you, too.”

    You nod. “Yeah, I think he did.” You sigh. “Well. No use thinking it over, is there? Doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

    Justine freezes, her eyes like dinner plates.

    “Juss?” you say. “What, what is it?”

    “No fucking way,” she murmurs. Her eyes flick to yours, and she grabs your wrist again, her grip tight. “You’re not going to believe this. I cannot believe this is happening. Turn around.”

    “What?” You turn around, and your jaw drops to the floor.

    Talk about speak of the Devil.

    He’s older, definitely. How old would he be now? Fifty-two.

    You wouldn’t have picked it. You would’ve guessed maybe mid-forties. But he always did have a bit of a younger face.

    “Am I dreaming?” you say. “Am I actually dreaming?”

    “What are the goddamn chances,” Justine says incredulously.

    You watch as Roger greets Naoise, and then her husband Chin. By the way Chin beams, you guess Roger was his invite.

    “Go say hello,” Justine hisses, nudging you.

    You whirl around to look at her. “Are you out of your mind?” you hiss back. “I haven’t seen him for, like, sixteen years!”

    “Then you’ll have so much to catch up on.”

    “He wouldn’t even remember me. We only dated for less than a year.”

    “Don’t be like that. You’re as hard to forget as he is. I’m sure he’ll remember forking over three months’ wages to sleep with y–”

    “Jesus Christ, Justine, can you give it a rest already?”

    Justine tries to smother a smile. “Sorry.”

    You shake your head. “No, it’s too weird. Especially in light of everything, and this whole conversation, it’s… No. Maybe later, but not now.”

    “Maybe it’s fate, or something.”

    “Don’t,” you say, your voice hard. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

    You leave Justine at the snack table.

    You’re just deciding whether to stick to wine or to switch to champagne when a shocking familiar voice says behind you, “Good God, [Y/N]?”

    Hearing him say your name again really is like something out of a dream – like a memory come to life. You turn to him, and, inexplicably, feel a blush heat your cheeks. You have no idea what to say, so you just say, “Roger?” as if you hadn’t already known he was here.

    Up close, you can tell more easily that he’s aged. But he still smells good – different, but good – and he’s dressed nicely.

    Still not wearing glasses, though. He never did. You used to pester him all the time about it when you dated.

    There’s a moment of awkwardness, but both of you go in for a brief hug. It’s weird. You shouldn’t have gone for the hug.

    “My God, it’s been how long?” Roger says with a laugh. “Fifteen years or something?”

    “Something like that, yeah,” you say.

    “You look great.”

    “Thanks. So do you.” 

    “Oh, don’t,” Roger says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m actually old now, I know.”

    “No, you do,” you insist. “Look good, I mean. Genuinely.”

    His outfit is simple, black-and-white, which almost surprises you. He used to dress a little more eclectically; there was always something patterned or brightly coloured in just about every outfit he wore, especially to parties. Maybe it’s something he’s outgrown. The thought makes you quietly sad.

    He does have a little reindeer pin on his lapel, though. It looks handmade, like something he would have bought at a market, made out of mini pom-poms and tufts of tinsel. So maybe he hasn’t outgrown that part of him entirely.

    He seems a little flustered by your compliment, and, yep, that’s the Roger you remember. “Well, er, thank you. And I meant it too, of course.”

    “Thank you.” An unmistakably awkward moment passes, and you blurt out, “You– How are you? What brings you here?”

    “Funny story, actually.” Roger ducks forward and grabs a glass of red, and you take the opportunity to take some champagne. “I, uh, decided I hated dentistry, so I went back to uni and studied biology instead. Wanted to become a professor, but I was already thirty-seven when I started, and I would’ve had to retire by the time I got my PhD. I’m a teacher these days, high school teacher. Chin just started working with me earlier this year, and we hit it off, I suppose.”

    You blink in surprise. “A biology teacher?”

    Roger chuckles. “Yes, I know. My friends were all shocked and appalled when I told them. The salary’s miserable in comparison, but I don’t hate my life when I wake up in the mornings, so I see that as a positive.”

    You hesitate, unsure whether to ask, but go for it anyway. “Did you always hate being a dentist? I don’t…” Is this too far? Is this out of line? “I mean, well, I don’t remember you hating it that much.”

    Roger drinks this in, and then nods to himself. “Right, yeah,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “I, um, never really told you, actually. I didn’t want to, uh, force you to listen to me whine about a job I hated while you were studying and all of that.”

    “Oh,” you say. You look at your champagne. You should’ve stuck to wine.“Well, for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have minded. At all. As I remember, I used to whine about university all the time.”

    “University’s for whining,” Roger says with a shrug. “I’d done my fair share of that already, all through dentistry school. And I got to do it again, as it turned out.”

    “Is there, ah, anything else you didn’t tell me while we were dating?” you joke half-heartedly.

    Roger’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, I–”

    “No, sorry, I was kidding,” you jump in. “Obviously, I don’t expect you to…” You inwardly curse yourself, and pour some champagne down your throat.

    Roger opens his mouth, as if to say something, and, in the back of your mind, you recognise that look, but you can’t quite place what it is.

    Then someone calls Roger’s name, and the look is gone, and Roger politely excuses himself from the conversation to be swept up in another.

    You bolt back to the snack table, as subtly as you can, but Justine is nowhere to be found. You quietly vow to throttle her next time you see her for disappearing on you, and shovel one more appetiser into your mouth, washing it down with champagne, then turn to face the crowd you’ve been immaturely avoiding all night.

    It feels like an hour, but must be no more than twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes, before you find a reasonable excuse to slip away again. You’re not having a bad time, per se, and you’re enjoying getting to catch up with old acquaintances, but it’s damn exhausting. You still haven’t seen Justine.

    You wish it wasn’t so freezing outside. You could do with some fresh air.

    Maybe another drink will help keep you warm. Even though you know you shouldn’t. You’re already tipsy.

    You take another flute of champagne and slip outside onto the balcony. The automatic light switches on.

    Your fingers and toes immediately feel like they’re about to fall off. “Eugh, this was a mistake,” you mutter to yourself, and bob up and down on the spot. The balcony is dotted with snow, but it’s hardly been the coldest winter you’ve ever lived through. It’s not snowing right now, at least. And it is nice to have some time to yourself.

    The back door slides open, and you turn to see who’s joining you, hoping it’s Justine.

    It’s Roger. He gives you a smile – a little nervous, a little shy, almost – and holds out your jacket. “You looked cold.”

    The first thing that comes out of your mouth is: “How’d you know it was mine?”

    “I asked Naoise. Here, let me hold your drink.”

    You pass him your champagne, and slip on your jacket, then take the flute back. “Thanks.”

    “No worries.” Roger moves closer to you, standing beside you, and squints up at the dark sky. “Not much snow this winter.”

    You follow his gaze. The moon is half-full. “No,” you agree.

    The sounds of the party are muffled behind you. Beyond the balcony, you can see through the bright yellow windows of Naoise’s neighbours – the silhouettes of family dinners, of other parties, the white light of TVs.

    “Sorry,” Roger says, breaking the silence. “You probably came out here to have some alone time. I shouldn’t have intruded. I can go back inside.”

    “No, it’s all right,” you say. This is nice, you want to add. But you don’t know if that’s appropriate, and you can’t think of anything to say instead, so you just leave the sentiment hanging in the icy air.

    “I realised I never asked what you’re doing with yourself these days,” Roger says.

    “Ah, just working,” you reply. “I’m a market research analyst.”

    “Oh, right. How long have you been doing that for?”

    “Since I finished uni, really. Well, I worked my way up. Started as an intern in web content writing, realised I preferred data analysis, so I wormed my way into market research. But I’ve been an analyst for almost ten years now.”

    Roger ponders this. “Do you enjoy it?”

     “Yeah,” you say with a nod. “I know it sounds boring. Most people think I’m mad for not only wanting to do my job, but actually enjoying it, but I do.”

    Roger smiles, and it’s a fond smile, a smile that you used to see all the time, and you feel a stab in your chest. A voice in the back of your mind whispers, Do you remember what it feels like to be loved like that? When was the last time Will smiled at you like that? When was the last time he smiled at you at all?

    You push that voice aside. You’re just lonely, and hurt, and sad. You’re reading far too much into a simple smile.

    “I think it’s great that you love it,” Roger says. “How lucky you found something you enjoy doing so early in your career.”

    You’re taken a little off-guard, and you duck your head to hide your smile. “Yeah, I guess I am lucky.”

    You take a sip of champagne.

    “Speaking of lucky – who’s the lucky man?”

    You try not to cringe. “Oh. Uh.” You glance down at the wedding ring that caught Roger’s eye. “Yes. Um, his name is Will. We met at a work do, actually. Been married eight years.”

    “He couldn’t make it tonight?”

    “No.” You don’t elaborate.

    Roger says nothing to that, and you wonder if he’s picked up on the bitterness in your tone, as much as you tried to hide it.

    “Right,” Roger says eventually. He clears his throat. “Any kids?”

    “Yes,” you say, and there’s no pretending now – the love in your voice is real. “April. She’s three.”

    “April,” Roger muses. “Lovely name.”

    “Thank you.” You grin at him. “Actually, this is going to sound so strange, but I always thought to myself that I wanted to be as good of a parent to my kids as you were to yours.”

    Roger blinks at you – his eyes are still big and blue, but you doubted even God himself could change that – and, if you’re not mistaken, you can see his face start to colour in the beam of the balcony light. “Oh,” he says. “That’s… one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

    You chuckle. “Well, it’s true. You were such an amazing dad. I’m sure you still are.”

    “I try to be.”

    “How old are they now? Gosh, they’d all be finished high school now, wouldn’t they?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yes, um, my youngest, Sam, she graduated last year. She’s taking a year off this year, working and travelling. Daphne’s the oldest, if you remember, and she’s moving in with her girlfriend soon. She still lives at her mum’s, but her and Asha have been looking for a place for a few months now. She’s an industrial designer. Then there’s Fox, he’s a musician, he’s a bassist, and Sophie’s still at uni, she’s studying theatre, and she wants to do a master’s in artistic directing.”

    “Wow,” you say. You never got to know his kids personally too well – you met them a handful of times, but you were far too nervous to spend too much time with them back in the day. The last time you saw them, Daphne hadn’t even started high school. Sam was still learning to talk. “Wow, that’s– they’re so grown-up now.”

    “God, you don’t have to tell me,” Roger says with a chuckle.

    You shake your head, sighing, and drink some more champagne. “Do you have a lucky lady, then?”

    Roger’s face tightens, and he looks down at his left hand, splaying his fingers, but you don’t see a ring. He tucks his hand into his pocket. “I’ve been seeing someone for two months now, almost three,” he says. “Jean. I teach one of her kids. She’s lovely.”

    “Jean,” you repeat. “She couldn’t make it tonight?”

    Roger shakes his head. “No. She’s a nurse, so she often works nights.” He pauses, and then says quickly, “She’s fifty.”

    You can’t help but laugh. “Right.”

    “I didn’t want you to think that I always go for younger women,” Roger explains hastily. “You were an outlier. A wonderful outlier, but an outlier nonetheless.”

    “‘A wonderful outlier’,” you muse, a touch playfully. “Could be the name of my memoir.”

    “It could very well be,” Roger says.

    Something doesn’t sit quite right. It seems impossible that someone wouldn’t have married Roger in sixteen years. Surely he’s not just been dating on and off that whole time. Not a guy like him.

    Don’t pry, you tell yourself. Don’t pry, don’t pry, don’t pry– “I don’t mean to pry,” you say, and hate yourself for it, “but – did you ever get remarried, or…?”

    Roger looks a little taken aback.

    “Sorry,” you say. “That’s so rude, I’m sorry.”

    “What gave it away?” Roger says.

    You bite your lip. “You, um, looked at your left hand. No ring.”

    Roger nods. “Hm. Well. Got it in one.” He shoots you a wry smile, but you can see that he’s uncomfortable. “You seem to keep appearing in my life after I’ve gone through a divorce.”

    “I’m so sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

    “It’s all right,” Roger says. “It was a year ago now, just about.”

    “Were you married long?”

    “Twelve years.”

    “Christ, Roger, I’m sorry.”

    Roger just shrugs, and sniffs, staring out at the apartments and houses beyond the balcony. But you can see the tension in his shoulders.

    “I’m divorcing my husband,” you blurt out.

    Roger looks to you. “I thought so,” he says carefully. “I could see it in your face when I asked about him.”

    You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    You shake your head. “Don’t be. He deserves it.”

    Roger grimaces. “Oh.”

    “He’s been cheating. But I want to wait until after Christmas to– to do all of that. To tell him I’m leaving him, the lawyers, the paperwork. So April doesn’t have to go through it during Christmas. I don’t want to ruin it for her.”

    Roger nods in understanding. He looks for a moment like he wants to reach out and touch you, comfort you, maybe, but he doesn’t. He just nods again and says, “You’re a good mum.”

    Your throat tightens, and you have to look away. You don’t dare to try to thank him for the compliment. The last thing you need is to break down at a Christmas party in front of your ex.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says.

    You manage a forced laugh, turning to him. “For what?”

    “I don’t know,” he says. “I just… felt like I needed to say it.”

    You drink him in. The moment feels familiar somehow, and simultaneously foreign altogether.

    You sniff, but, luckily, no tears have fallen, and you take a breath to compose yourself.

    “Can I get you another drink?” Roger offers, holding out his hand to take your empty flute.

    “No, I shouldn’t,” you say. “I’ve had more than enough.” You chuckle. “I don’t remember ever saying that when we dated.”

    You expect Roger to laugh along with you, but instead he blinks in shock at you. “Oh, er, I– I also never– I’m glad you…”

    “You’re glad what, I enjoyed getting shitfaced?” you tease, not quite understanding his confusion.

    His eyes go wide. “Oh, drinking. Yes, well, everyone’s like that at uni a bit, aren’t they?” He chuckles uncomfortably, and then rushes out, “Just getting a drink,” and disappears inside.

    You frown to yourself. ‘Oh, drinking’? What else could you have possibly meant?

    Unless Roger thought you were referring to–

    Surely not.

    Referring to the sex?

    Your stomach drops to your feet. “Oh, God,” you groan softly, hiding your face behind your hand. You hope Roger doesn’t think you’re flirting with him.

    That’d be a story to tell the kids, wouldn’t it? Or to tell Jean. Hey, love, guess what happened last night? Ran into an ex, I dated her almost twenty years ago for a couple months, and we weren’t even chatting for more than half an hour before she was cracking onto me. Even though she’s married. Turns out I still got it!

    A shiver rocks through you, and you realise you can’t feel your fingers, but you’re loathe to head back inside. It’s nice out here, in the snow and ice, in a stiff, numb sort of way.

    Roger reappears not long after, wine in hand. “Thought you’d have headed back inside by now.”

    “I probably should,” you say, and cross your arms to warm up your hands. “But no, I don’t think I will.”

     “Do you mind if I stay out here with you?”

     You smile. “Not at all.”

     You don’t know for how long the two of you stand out there. With each passing minute, more of the awkwardness and discomfort slips away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but soon the two of you are chatting away like no time has passed at all, laughing and bickering.

     He tells you more about the kids, and you tell him about April. He tells you about his second ex-wife – a title that he despises, and, for a while, you let him bemoan the notion that maybe he’s just a terrible husband  before you tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself.

    Mostly, you both reminisce about the past. About the good times and the bad.

    “It was mostly good, though,” you say. “I like to think it was mostly good.”

    Roger nods thoughtfully. “I think it was, yeah,” he says.

    “I can’t even remember how we broke up.”

    Roger snorts. “Are you joking?”

    You shake your head, shrugging. “No. I remember going through the break-up period, which took me far longer to get over than I’m willing to admit to you.”

    Roger grins. “Oh, yeah?” he teases.

    “No, don’t,” you warn him with a laugh. “You’re not getting an ego boost from me.”

    “Did you cry every night? Have a photo of me under your pillow? Eat lots of ice cream and watch rom-coms?”

    “Shut up, I’m not saying a word.”

    Roger laughs, and the sound of it makes your heart sing. “You’re not saying no.”

    You roll your eyes. “I was in a lot of pain for a long time,” you say. “There, are you happy?”

    Roger’s smile fades, and he looks down at his feet. “No, of course that doesn’t make me happy,” he says. He looks back to you. “For what it’s worth, I probably took even longer to get over you.”

    You study his face. It’s a little more weathered, a little more lined, but it’s a face you missed for a very long time. “What happened?” you ask, so softly it’s almost a whisper, like you wouldn’t dare to speak the question any louder. “I… I really liked you, Rog. A lot. Loved you, even, although I– I didn’t know what love felt like at the time. Where did we go wrong?”

    Roger swallows, and shakes his head minutely, his eyes drinking in yours. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Wrong place, wrong time. But I…” He cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath, looking away.

    “But what?”

    “Nothing.” Roger gives you a small smile. “I’ve never met Will, but he sounds like the stupidest man alive to hurt you like that.”

    You snort a laugh. “Well. I’m sure he doesn’t think so.”

    “It’ll be too late by the time he figures it out. Stupid men are like that.”

    You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything at all. All you can think is that Roger really hasn’t changed much at all, and that Jean is a very fortunate woman.

    Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket to check it. “Ah, shit,” you mutter. It’s Will. April’s come down with a fever, the text says. Need you home.

    “Is everything all right?” Roger asks.

    You pocket your phone again. “April’s sick,” you say. “Duty calls.”

    “Right, of course. Let me walk you inside.”

    He opens the sliding door for you, and waves you in. “Age and beauty,” he says, and it catches you unaware, makes you laugh.

    “I forgot you say that,” you say. It’s a play on age before beauty – Roger used to say that you bested in him both age and beauty, so the original phrase didn’t fit, and he insisted on saying his version of it every time he opened a door for you. Which was often. He liked that his silly little phrase made you giggle and give him a gentle slap on the arm.

    “I haven’t said it in a long time, actually,” Roger says with a grin, closing the door behind him, trapping you both in the warmth, along with the music and conversation. “Not since you.”

    You both stand there for a moment, grinning at each other, unsure how to proceed, and you feel a familiar squeeze of your heart. “I need to go,” you say, almost apologetically.

    “Yes,” Roger says.

    “I…” You hesitate. “Wait for me at the door, I just want to make the rounds, say quick goodbyes to everyone.”

    “Sure,” Roger says, and you give his arm a quick squeeze, then track down Naoise and Chin to say your thank-yous and farewells, then Justine, then a couple of other people.

    You grab your purse, and meet Roger at the front door. “I had a really nice time tonight,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

    “I was just about to say the same thing,” he says.

    You’re unsure what to say, but then an idea strikes you. “Do you want my number? It’d be nice to keep in touch.”

    “Oh, yes, of course,” Roger says. “That’d be lovely.”

    He hands over his phone, and you save your number. “Give me a call whenever,” he says, as you hand his phone back. “If you need someone to talk to, y’know. Or just for a chat. Divorces are… really not fun.”

    You chuckle wryly. “Well, I suppose you’re the expert, aren’t you?”

    “God, you’re just as rude as I remember,” Roger says with a roll of his eyes, laughing alongside you.

    He stops in his tracks, his gaze towards the ceiling.

    You tilt your head up. A decorative sprig of mistletoe hangs above the door.

    You and Roger look at each other, your faces both pink.

    Your heart clenches. Yes, Jean is a very fortunate woman indeed. “Funny,” you say with a nervous chuckle.

    “Yeah, weird,” Roger says. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen mistletoe in real life before.”

    “Me, either.”

     Another moment passes. “In another lifetime,” you say with a smile.

    Roger takes a breath, and there’s something in his eyes, something you haven’t seen for a long time, and he nods, smiling back. “Yeah,” he says. “Right time, right place.”

    You nod again, drinking this in, and sigh. “Okay, well, I really do need to go. I’m sure Will is on the verge of panic without me there.”

    “Of course,” Roger says. “I hope April’s all right.”

    “Thanks, Rog.” On a spur of the moment, you give him a peck on the cheek, and then let yourself out. “Merry Christmas.”

    “Merry Christmas,” he says. “I might see you soon?”

    “You will,” you say. Your ride is almost here, so you give one final wave, and head to the lift.

    The door closes.

    You take the lift down and climb into the car.

    You go home, say hello to your husband, and take care of your daughter.

    That night, you sit in the dining room, nursing a hot chocolate, listening to the silence of the house.

    Then, and only then, do you allow yourself to cry.

     Your wallowing was short-lived, though - swiftly interrupted by a phone call from an unknown number.

     You wipe your nose on your sleeve, grimacing, and answer. “Hello?”

    “[Y/N]?”

     You’re gobsmacked. “Roger?”

     “I- I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I was just... going to leave a voice message to say this was my number.”

     You let out a pitiful bubble of laughter. “Why didn’t you just text?”

     There’s a pause, and then an embarrassed, “Oh, yes. I could’ve done that.”

     You sniff. “It’s fine, no harm done. I’ll let you get to bed, it’s late.”

    “Right,” Roger says. “Um, how’s- how’s April?”

    “She’s good, yeah, thanks for asking. Gave her some painkillers and she went right to sleep.”

    “Good, that’s good.”

    “Yes.” You sniff again, wetly, and quickly wipe at your nose a second time. “Ah, well, I, um... should probably...”

    “Go, yes,” Roger says. “Sorry. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

    “No, no, not at all,” you reassure him. “I was just, um, having a hot chocolate.”

    “Right, sounds important.”

     You laugh. “It’s very important.”

    “I’m sure it is. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

    “I appreciate it.”

     You realise you’re smiling to yourself like a loon. “Thanks for calling,” you say.

     Roger chuckles. “No worries at all. And, um, seriously. If you need someone to talk to, at any time, please just call me. I couldn’t bear the thought of you, I don’t know, sitting alone and crying, or something like that.”

     You almost laugh out loud. “Thank you, Rog. I’ll make sure to save your number.”

    “Please do, so I don’t have to call you in the middle of the night again.”

     You smile. “G’night.”

    “Night, [Y/N].”

     You hang up.

     Your hot chocolate tastes a little sweeter than it did before.

#mine #my writing #roger taylor x reader #queen fanfiction #rpf #angst

[ddaenggtan]

give and take | knj

when your beloved jeep breaks down, you have no choice but to take it to a mechanic for once instead of trying to fix it yourself. you fully expected to empty your wallet or get told to just buy a new car. you don’t expect to meet kim namjoon, nor do you expect him to be hot like burning, sweet as honey, and interested in you.

pairing | kim namjoon x reader

genre/warnings | mechanic!namjoon, fluff (seriously so fluffy), smut: hickeys, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all), dirty talk, dom!namjoon, brat!reader if you squint, creampie, slight mentions of choking

word count | 10.5k 

cross posted to ao3

a/n: ayyyyyy i’m finally finished with this monstrosity!! it was supposed to be a short smutty drabble and yet HERE WE ARE bc i’m a slut for namjoon, both emotionally and physically. pls pls pls let me know what y’all think!! i’m doing my best out here in the world, but i always love to hear what people think about my work!! 

You groan, for possibly the millionth time that afternoon, as your jeep sputters to a halt once more. You’ve had JeepJeep since you first got your license, a gift from your parents since they were getting a new car anyway. Held together with duct tape, prayers, and more than one swift kick to the bumper, the thing has gotten you through your entire school career and then into the big wide world of adulthood.

Now, as you sit in the nearly-empty lot of a mechanic, not even properly parked because your jeep died not two seconds after you pulled in, you feel like crying. Fixing this will cost everything you have. There is no doubt in your mind that this is going to be expensive. Probably expensive enough to wipe out what little you still have in your bank account after grocery shopping yesterday, if you aren’t forced to dip into the meager savings you have put back.

With a resigned sigh, you pop off a quick text to your best friend, heave yourself out of the jeep, and head through the open garage door. There’s a couple of cars up on lifts, parts strewn around them haphazardly, and faint music thrumming from somewhere, but you don’t see any actual people around.

“Hello?” You call hesitantly into the large room. There’s no response, which irritates you a little. First your jeep dies - possibly for the last time, not that you want to think about that right now, keep hoping, you remind yourself - and then you spend four hours getting ten miles to the closest mechanic so you didn’t have to pay for a tow only for there to be no one fucking here.

“Fuck this,” You tell yourself, sidestepping what looks like a car battery, and make your way further into the building. Music is still vibrating through your bones, there has to be someone in this rusty old shop somewhere, and you are on a mission, dammit. JeepJeep requires immediate attention, especially if you want to get home at any kind of decent time tonight.

The shop, you discover as you follow the sound of deep bass, is a minefield. There’s a truly ridiculous number of parts and tools you couldn’t name even if you wanted, all of them just thrown about like a four-year-old’s discarded toy. You think you may see a chainsaw in the corner and for the first time, you wonder if wandering around a potentially-abandoned-but-possibly-still-inhabited auto shop alone is a good idea. Do it for JeepJeep, you tell yourself, steeling yourself as you pass the Maybe A Chainsaw. Light gleams off grimy windows just past it, and the music seems to be coming from there. You give the tools - and the possible murder weapon - a wide berth, making your way to the lone door that you see. It’s nearly impossible to see through the windows of what looks to be the office, but the door itself is open, a lone figure sitting at a desk inside.

You knock gently against the open door and plant a friendly smile on your face. “Hi, sorry to bother you, my car died and I was just wondering if you could take a look at it?” The words rush out before the person - a guy, you belatedly notice - can tell you to get lost. When he spins around in the chair, your breath catches in your throat and you think you may actually physically choke.

He’s honestly gorgeous. Like…the hottest person on the face of the planet, gorgeous. Warm eyes blown wide with surprise and framed by strong dark brows, a jawline that makes you wonder why he needs the chainsaw lying around, bleach-blonde hair hidden away under a dark blue cap that matches the jumpsuit hanging around his waist revealing the most beautiful sight of that chest in just the white tee with grease stains that shouldn’t be so attractive. It’s all beautiful, but what gets the heat pooling between your legs is the sight of the long fingers. They aren’t even doing anything erotic, just wrapped around a thick book and a pen, clearly having been in the middle of writing something when you interrupted.

“Sorry,” He says quickly, fingers reaching out to slide over a button somewhere. The music softens, no longer shaking your bones, but that only makes you more aware of how hard your heart is beating. “I thought I had the closed sign on the door, I must have forgotten. You said your car died?”

It takes you a second to find words, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t judge. “Yes,” You say, filling your voice with the confidence you usually save for unruly customers at work, “Yes, my jeep. It’s out front, I just kind of left it since it wouldn’t start back up again. I really just need someone to take a look at it and tell me what to tape together so it’ll run again.”

He laughs, soft and sweet, and you never want to hear another sound in your life, but he sets the pen and the book to the side and stands. “I can certainly try,” The guy says, waving for you to follow him out to the lot.

You do, though it becomes quickly apparent that the wide berth you gave the chainsaw should have been saved for this walking hurricane. He manages to run into or knock over nearly everything on the way out, barrelling through areas you’d avoided due to clutter and just sliding things out of the way for you. He’s got a pretty blush on his cheeks when you finally emerge into the waning sunlight, and it warms you more than you expected. You’ve never seen someone so clumsy be so damned endearing.

“So, what exactly has been going on with your jeep?” He asks. You give him a brief rundown of all the things that have been patched in the years you’ve had your darling vehicle and go into more detail about the chinkchinkchunk sound it made right before it died in the middle of the turn lane outside the store where you worked. He tells you to pop the hood and you do. You don’t even take offense to the choking noise he gives upon seeing what’s left of the engine block and the several rolls of tape holding everything together. He manages to cover it with a cough, but you know what your engine looks like, and have no illusions about the disaster it must be to a mechanic.

“Uh…no offense, but I’m honestly a little surprised that it ran at all,” His voice echoes as you exit the car and come to stand by him. He scratches at his jaw, leaving a small trail of grease behind that your fingers itch to wipe off. You startle a little as he makes eye contact, but you can’t help but return the soft, shy smile that he wears. “I can definitely try, we’ll get her up on a lift to take a better look at everything, but I can’t make any promises. Uh…hold on, let me-” He stops and pats at his clothes before he turns, jogging into the garage once more.

You sigh a little as you turn to look back at JeepJeep’s engine, patting the side lightly. There are so many memories in this jeep, you don’t want to go buy a new car, nevermind that you can’t even afford it. Just a quick look and you can see where you hot-glued two of the tubes back together when they split outside your school, where you had to tape a belt back into one piece on the side of a highway at 3 a.m. with an ex-boyfriend holding the flashlight, the time you got stuck outside a McDonald’s and had to use no less than a hundred straws and four rolls of tape to form a funnel so your coolant could fill enough to get the thing home without catching fire. And that's just the engine, there are so many more things that happened in this jeep, so many memories and milestones that you don’t want to end up in a junkyard somewhere.

A loud crash from inside the garage breaks you from your thoughts, and you start to get worried by the suspicious silence that follows it. You wait a few moments, but there’s just a deafening silence hanging in the air. It takes a second but eventually you decide you cannot in good conscience wait by your dead jeep while this random, insanely hot mechanic bleeds out under some Honda. It’s just as you step forward that said mechanic stumbles out of the garage, clipboard in one oil-smeared hand while his other massages a spot on his (incredibly strong looking, holy shit) thigh.

He lights up when he sees you still there, as if he thought you would leave while he was gone. Your heart skips a beat at the thought.

“Okay so! Just fill out some quick information for me here, as best you can,” He hands you the clipboard and a pen and you dutifully start writing down your name, number, and information about JeepJeep. “As I said, we can’t guarantee we can fix…all of this, but we’ll do our best. The diagnostic will help figure out everything that’s really important to get her up and running, so we’ll do that first thing, and then call you with an estimate for labor and parts.”

“That sounds perfect, thank you so much,” You reply, truly grateful. Every other mechanic you’ve been to in the last two years had taken one look and immediately written the thing off as a lost cause. It’s touching to know this guy was at least going to try. You hand the papers back with a smile, ignoring the slight flush that comes over you when you look up to see him already looking at you. He turns a pretty shade of pink and averts his eyes.

“So, all I need now is your car key, if you don’t mind.” He says. You hurry to comply, sliding it off your keyring just as a horn honks behind you. You turn to see Taehyung’s car idling just outside the lot, the man himself waving at you before settling in. He's entirely too accustomed to this routine, and you decide to buy him some noodles soon to pay him back.

The sound of your name coming from the mechanic’s lips has you turning around, pink-cheeked, and you give an embarrassed smile. “Yep, that’s me,” You joke. “I gotta go, but take care of her…?” You trail off, never having gotten the guy’s name.

“Namjoon,” He says quickly, almost dropping the clipboard in his haste to pull his jumpsuit up and show you the name stitched into it. “Kim Namjoon. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. We’ll call you soon.” His smile is blinding, and you want to dive in headfirst to the dimples that appear but Taehyung’s horn beeps before you can.

“Thank you again, Namjoon, so much,” You say as you grab your bag from the passenger’s side of your jeep and hurry off to slide in beside Taehyung, who immediately starts whining about how his own shift at work had gone.

You can’t stop yourself from looking out the side mirror as Namjoon’s image gets smaller and smaller, and you find yourself looking forward to when you'll see him again. 

As it turned out, that would be much sooner than you originally thought. The shop calls you the very next day, a very bubbly sounding guy who introduces himself as Hoseok telling you that it won’t be nearly as expensive as you first thought and that though it'll take a week or two, they have faith that they can get JeepJeep running again.

You could cry, you'e so relieved. How they’re going to do such a thing is a mystery to you, especially for such a cheap price, but you aren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Any other shop in town would’ve been sure to charge you out the ass for such a thing, and your bank account would never have been able to recover from such a hefty price tag. You would’ve paid it, of course, because JeepJeep is everything to you, but you would’ve been back to your diet of instant noodles for a while if you had.

You can’t help but wonder if this is normal for their garage, or if it's a special case. As much as you want to think that it's because Namjoon is interested in the same way you are, it’s more likely whoever runs the place took one look at your heap of wishes and hushed prayers and was intrigued at the challenge of fixing such a piece of junk. Or that they were just cheaper in an attempt to poach business from other shops, because if they do manage to fix JeepJeep then you’re never going to another mechanic again in your life. Especially if Namjoon keeps working there, because that man-

You force the thought out of your mind, focusing instead on the work ahead of you.

You last four days. Four whole days before you finally cave and go to see how your jeep is doing without your loving kick to the rear and possibly also catch a glimpse of Namjoon while there. Taehyung applauded you on your restraint, though it was somewhat sarcastic, but you honestly don’t care. You love that jeep and you have to know if it’s in pieces or if they’re actually fixing it. Taehyung had no idea what he was talking about when he asked dryly why you’re wearing the shorts that cling in all the right places and the top that highlights your chest in all the ways you love just to go check on a jeep.

You mentally rescind your earlier note to buy him noodles as you make your way to the garage.

What you’re expecting to find at the shop, you aren’t entirely sure. In the deepest part of your heart, you want to see JeepJeep looking shiny and new and running perfectly already, but you are fully aware of how unlikely that is. You’re already getting a miracle, you don’t need to tempt fate. Still, the idea has planted itself so firmly in your mind that walking up to the shop at three in the afternoon and seeing your precious baby up on a lift with the parts you’d lovingly taped or glued back together thrown to the side in a haphazard pile almost brings tears to your eyes.

Indeed, it likely would have, had you not immediately heard a beautifully rumbling voice barking orders.

You step forward again and contain your surprise at how different the garage looks when it’s full of people. At first glance, you don’t see him, but after getting close enough to stand right at the edge of the open garage door, you spot him. You expect the rush of blood to your face, but you don’t expect the way your knees go wobbly and the sudden flip of your stomach.

If you thought he looked good the first time you met, it was nothing compared to now. The jumpsuit is buttoned halfway up his chest, giving the slightest peek to the white shirt underneath. The long sleeves running down his arms are pushed up to his elbows, which only highlights the way the material hangs off his biceps and complements the tan of his forearms. He still has that blue cap on, but the shy smile is gone, as is the pretty redness on his cheeks. He looks much more serious now, barking orders out to a couple of his coworkers as he looks up from the heavy book in his hands to the undercarriage of your jeep. The lid of a highlighter is stuck in the corner of his mouth, and his brows are drawn together in complete focus.

As you watch, doing your very best to not think about how absolutely hot like burning this guy is, he calls another guy over. The new guy is pretty, too, as they all seem to be, but nothing can outshine the sight of Namjoon, serious and laser-focused as he gestures to parts of your jeep and then to the heap of parts they’d removed, circling a couple of things with the highlighter. He speaks quietly to the other guy, who nods and also looks up at your jeep before disappearing down a set of stairs you hadn’t noticed before.

You’re not to be mistaken; you’re a strong, independent young woman, and you have no need to have a man around to tell you how to live or what decisions to make. But seeing Namjoon, looking like that, barking orders at people…well, you’ve always had a thing for authoritative men, and now you can’t help but wonder just how it would feel to be on the receiving end of Namjoon’s no-nonsense attitude. Him telling you to drop to your knees in such a firm voice, leaving no question that he was to be obeyed, and running one of those long fingers along the column of your throat before wrapping his whole hand around it and giving just enough pressure to make your head spin before he slides his-

“Can I help you?” A voice calls, and you just barely catch yourself before actually jumping in shock. Turning to find a third guy - also gorgeous, what is it with this place? - you plaster a smile on your face.

“Yes, hi!” You say quickly, hoping the redness on your face can be attributed to the afternoon sun and not the very lewd thoughts you were just lost in. “This is my jeep, I was just coming by to see how things are going.” It occurs to you halfway through the sentence that it might not be considered normal to check in on a vehicle and perhaps you should have readied a better reason.

The guy - Jungkook, by the name stitched into his plain grey tee - just nods, though, and gives you a quick once-over before turning. “Hey, hyung!” Nearly everyone in the garage turns except for a couple of people, but Jungkook makes instant eye contact with Namjoon. You only barely register the vague wave that Jungkook gives you, and you can’t hear whatever he says next past the rush of blood in your ears, because holy shit. The focused gaze was powerful enough to make your knees weak before, but having it leveled straight on you is another thing entirely. Your stomach is in knots and you honestly think you may just collapse right there and then, just from the sheer power that Namjoon radiates. You’re so focused on him that it’s impossible to miss the way his eyes rake up your form, lingering on every curve and leaving a heat behind that you hadn’t felt in much too long.

You give a shy wave and can see the moment he snaps out of whatever he’s thinking. He takes a breath and tries to speak at the same time, which mostly just results in him nearly swallowing the highlighter cap. You stifle a laugh as he spits it out and caps the marker, stuffing it in his pocket as he makes his way over. There’s a clear path to the lot that you have a sneaking suspicion is there entirely because of his penchant for disaster, and you meet him at the entrance. He’s got a wide smile on his face, yet again showcasing his dimples, and you find yourself returning the smile before you can stop yourself.

“I just came to check on JeepJeep,” You say before you can actually tell him how you think he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. “I’m a little attached, and I wanted to be sure you all didn’t need any other information or anything like that.”

“Ah, well, we’re actually doing alright with her. We stripped out everything that needed to be replaced,” He points to the pile of parts you’re intimately familiar with, “And now it’s just a matter of putting in the new ones and making sure there isn’t anything else going on. We’re gonna go ahead and do an oil change, fill your coolant, and clean all the parts that didn’t need to be stripped, so she should be almost good as new when we get her back together.” Your heart swells at the news, and you beam at him.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Namjoon,” You tell him. He turns slightly pink and rubs the back of his neck, ducking his head. “Seriously, I never expected you to do so much for me. Anyone else would have just written her off and told me to go buy a new one. Are you sure you’re charging enough? It seems like a lot more work than I’m actually paying for.”

Namjoon just waves a hand, looking up at the jeep. “No, it’s the least I can do. Your Jeep really isn’t in terrible condition, just a lot of wear and tear, and it’s so obvious that you love it. What kind of mechanic am I if I turn down something like this?” He goes quiet, and you can feel him looking at you even as you watch several men hand parts back and forth.

You’re both quiet for a long while. You aren’t sure what’s going through his head, but you’re hoping that eventually, he’ll say something else to keep the conversation going.

“Well, I’ve got to get going soon, I’ve got a meeting in about an hour,” You say eventually, resigned to the fact that Namjoon isn’t as interested as you thought he might be.

“Oh, yeah, of course, don’t let me keep you,” He says quickly. Your heart sinks as you give him a smile and wave. You’re halfway to the sidewalk when he calls your name, and you turn to see him jogging after you. He’s got a white-knuckle grip on the book in his hands but his voice is steady.

“If you really want to pay me back, let me take you out to dinner,” he says. “Friday night at seven.”

The confidence in his tone surprises you, but not in a bad way. Your first instinct is to immediately agree, but the memory of that blush from four days ago has you biting your lip. You want to see it again, and you wonder how far you have to push him to bring it out.

“I dunno,” You say teasingly. “Just a dinner? That doesn’t really feel like I’m paying you back much, honestly. Shouldn’t there be more of a…I don’t know, a give and take?”

Something sparks in the mechanic’s eyes. Namjoon steps closer to you and traces the curve of your wrist with one finger. Your skin burns where he touches it, and your breath catches in your throat. “Friday at seven,” He says. His voice is low and lingering and you can feel it deep through your skin and sink into your bones. “Have dinner with me, and then we’ll see just how much give you can take.”

You clench your teeth again the urge to whimper as he slides your arm forward and uses a marker to write something on your arm. He backs up after he’s finished, a cocky smirk coming over his features that makes you want to bring him to his knees and drop to your own in equal measure. He presses a light kiss to your knuckles before he drops your hand entirely.

“Text me your address, I’ll pick you up,” He tells you as he disappears into the garage once more, barking for someone named Jimin to get off his ass and keep cleaning parts. You stand there for another few moments until you’re sure you can walk without tripping over your own feet. When you finally are able to breathe once more, you book it out of the lot and down the street. It takes ten minutes to realize you walked in the complete opposite direction from where you’re supposed to be meeting your friends for a late lunch.

Friday night comes with nervousness that you haven’t felt in a long time. With every one of the last few dates you’ve been on, you’d been the one to pursue things. You asked out the last three dates you’d been on, and the last time you’d gotten laid - months ago, unfortunately, which could explain the very visceral reaction you had to Namjoon - had been because you’d approached the most attractive guy you’d seen at the bar and blatantly asked him if he wanted to go home with you that night. It’s been a while since anyone bothered to chase you, and the fluttering in your chest just reminds you of how much you really do love it.

You’re wearing your favorite date outfit, a cute ruffled top with an A-line skirt that grazed the tops of your knees, and a pair of truly adorable flats that you got for 75% off the last time you went shopping. You’ve put more effort into your hair and face than you had in a while, making sure everything is the best it could possibly be for your date.

A knock on your door at exactly 7 o'clock has you grinning and rushing to grab your clutch. After you make sure you have everything you needed - phone, keys, wallet, condoms, as usual - you open the door. The sight that greets you has you almost wishing you’d offered to cook just so you could keep him locked inside.

You’ve only ever seen Namjoon in his work clothes, and whatever you expected his style to be, it wasn’t this. A gorgeous seafoam button-up tucked into white pants and his hair styled so well you aren’t sure why he wears a hat ever. None of it compares to the beaming grin he’s giving you, though, dimples on full display as he looks you up and down.

“You look amazing,” He says as he takes your hand and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Really, I’m…I can’t believe I get to take you to dinner.”

“Well, you’d best believe it,” You tease. “I don’t get this dolled up for just anyone.” You turn to lock the door behind you, glad for the millionth time that you were lucky enough to find a good townhouse that wasn’t wildly out of your price range. He laces his fingers with yours and guides you to the street where he’s parked.

“There’s a pretty nice place close to the shop that isn’t too fancy or anything, if that works?” He tells you. His brow furrows and he bites at his lip just slightly, and you melt a little. “I wasn’t really sure what you liked, and it’s got a bit of everything, and it isn’t that super stuffy atmosphere, so I thought it would still be casual enough for us to be relaxed and talk, but if you’d like, we can go somewhere else, it really isn’t a big deal so-”

“Namjoon,” You stop him and squeeze his hand a little. “That sounds lovely.” He smiles at the same time you do, relief clear on his face as he relaxes slightly beside you. When you reach his car - a nice, obviously well-kept model you don’t recognize - he opens the door for you to slide in. Within minutes, you’re shooting off into the fading sunlight. There’s soft music playing - some old-school American hip hop you’ve never heard - and Namjoon is tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. He looks effortlessly attractive, one hand on the gearshift and the other on the wheel, and it makes heat pool between your thighs. You rub them together just barely, trying your best to soothe the ache; the night has just begun, and at this rate, you’ll be a sopping mess before you even order your food.

Namjoon’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, and as you turn to look at him, you realize he’s not actually speaking to you, but instead quietly rapping along with a new song that’s playing. Your brows shoot up and you grin.

“I didn’t know you could rap,” You say, delighted. Namjoon turns slightly pink and his grip on the wheel tightens a little.

“Ah, yeah, it’s just…a hobby, I guess.” He says. There’s a shyness, a humility, that makes an emotion swell in you that you can’t name. It almost seems like he doesn’t think he’s very good, and you decide then that you’re going to show him he is.

“You’re good,” You tell him, and he shoots you a disbelieving look. “No, really, you are. Do more, c'mon, I wanna hear you.” You reach for the stereo and turn the volume up so that it throbs through your chest, and then turn to him expectantly. He looks away as best he can while driving, scratching at the back of his neck as he starts to quietly rap along. It takes a minute, but he gets louder, more confident, and the excitement in your belly only grows.

“That is so sexy,” You say under your breath. You don’t expect him to respond, but the flush on his cheeks tells you he definitely heard you. He glances at you, curious and searching, and before you can ask why, his hand is settling hesitantly on your thigh.

It’s an innocent gesture, he doesn’t tease you or anything you could expect; he just leaves it there. The heat from his palm is scorching through the material of your skirt, and you catch yourself daydreaming several times about what exactly that hand could be doing to you. The rest of the drive is spent with the two of you talking about what music you listen to and your favorite artists, yet you find it impossible to completely focus on what you tell him. The weight of his hand on your thigh is too distracting.

Get it together, he isn’t even touching your skin, you tell yourself as he finally parks and rushes around to open your door for you. You beam at him in thanks and take his hand when he offers it. Together, you walk into a cute restaurant, already filled with people. You’re worried you won’t be able to get a table, and you start to voice your concern, but Namjoon just holds a single finger up and flags down the host.

“Reservation for two, Kim Namjoon,” He says easily, as if he dined at restaurants that required reservations every night. The host is quick to lead the two of you to a table in the far corner by a window, giving you an excellent view of the street. You can’t help but rake your eyes over Namjoom as he pulls your chair out for you and then takes his own seat. The light is soft and complimenting, making him almost seem to glow with obvious happiness as he perused the menu.

You do the same and find that several dishes look appetizing. You’ve just said as much to Namjoon, who agrees, when you notice the print at the bottom of the menu stating that this is apparently a Michelin-rated restaurant, and with a quick review, you’re shocked to find that there aren’t even prices listed on the menu. Your eyes shoot up to Namjoon, but he’s completely focused on his own menu, lost in the decision as he debates aloud what to get.

“Namjoon,” You say after a second. He looks up, eyes shining in the light, and smiles at you. “Not to be ungrateful, but you know you could’ve taken me somewhere else?”

He frowns, looking around. “If you don’t like it, we can leave,” He says quickly, and is clearly about to stand when you stop him with a hand on his wrist.

“No, it’s not that, this place is lovely, and the food looks delicious, I just…” You trail off, unsure how to verbalize the emotions swirling in your chest. “This is just a lot more than what a lot of guys would do for a first date.”

“Then I pity their dates,” He says without hesitation. He twists his wrist to catch your fingers in his and run his thumb along the back of your hand. “I want to treat you the way you deserve. If you want to leave and go somewhere else, we can. But I asked you out because I want to treat you, and this is how you deserve to be treated.” His expression is soft and earnest and the complete honesty in his words has you floored.

“Okay,” You say softly. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” He says firmly. He keeps his hand on yours as the server comes, and Namjoon proceeds to order each dish you’d mentioned an interest in, silencing your protests with a single hard look that has your legs shaking. The waiter disappears, and you force yourself to relax. Even if whatever this is doesn’t go anywhere, you’re getting excellent conversation and Michelin-rated food. Like you would turn that down.

As the food appears, the two of you settle into a rhythm of conversation. You learn that he’s only at the garage part-time, the rest of his days spent pursuing one Master’s degree in Business and a second in Engineering and that while he originally interviewed at several other auto shops, none would hire him because they were so worried about his knack for destroying things around him. You tell him about how you got your jeep, how it got you through a Bachelor’s degree that you haven’t been able to put to use yet and a job that sucks most days but pays the bills well enough that you can still afford your Netflix account. Namjoon is ridiculously easy to talk to, so much so that by the time you’re digging into a fruit custard pastry dessert, it feels like you’ve known him your entire life. By the time you get back to your apartment and he’s walking you to your door, you can hardly believe you’ve only known him a week.

“So tell me,” You finally say as you stand in front of your door, key in hand. “How does a mechanic that’s studying for two Master’s degrees afford a restaurant like that? And you have to tell me, no backing out. I told you about the Great Flubber Incident of 2014, you owe me. Just don’t tell me you’re secretly a mafia lord or something.”

He laughs, and you memorize the sound. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just lucky, honestly. My parents were fairly well off and set up a trust when I was born so they put back a bunch of money for me my entire childhood, but then when I went to school, they were supportive and weirdly excited, so they’re covering all those expenses as well. The garage pays really well, and I split costs with my roommate at home, so that trust has mostly just been gathering dust. I like to bring it out every so often, just to treat myself and my friends.” He smiles, lacing his fingers with yours once more. “And really beautiful girls with remarkably awful jeeps that are somehow interested in going out with me.”

You can feel your cheeks turning pink even as you grin and step closer to him. “Well, I have to say, the whole ‘humble and clumsy yet gorgeous mechanic with a heart of gold’ thing is really working for me.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm.” You tug gently at his hands and he lets you pull him closer until you can slide your hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. His arms automatically wrap around your waist, hands lingering innocently on your lower back. “I have to admit, though, you gave me a really good first date. I just expected there to be more of a take.” You chance a look up at him and delight in the way his pupils are dilated and slightly hazy.

“I’ll have to make a note of that for next time,” He says. You cock an eyebrow and you don’t miss the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“You seem confident that there’ll be a next time,” You tease. His hands slide to grip your hips, tight and unyielding, and your breath catches in your throat.

“There will be,” He says. His nose is brushing yours, and you aren’t even sure when he got so close, but you know you want him to get even closer. The heat between your thighs is enough to make your legs weak, and it only worsens as he reaches up and glides his hand along your cheek and neck. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“Will you please just kiss me, Joon, before my neighbors can come out and comp-” He does, then, cutting you off in the middle of your sentence and you can’t even remember what you were going to say because his lips are so soft and they’re moving against yours so perfectly that you can feel your actual soul expanding and filling every inch of your being. His hand slides to cup your cheek, tilting you so he can deepen the kiss and slide his tongue along yours, and his grip on your hip tightens so hard that you know you’re going to have bruises the next morning and you relish in the thought.

Your own hands are busy exploring; they slide up to grip Namjoon’s biceps - firm and strong and you want to bite it - before moving to feel along his chest, finally getting to touch the muscles that you know are there. You whimper slightly as your fingers dip along the edges of his pecs, and your legs are threatening to give out completely.

Namjoon kisses you like he won’t get to do so ever again; it’s sweet and exciting and hesitant and dominating all at once, much like Namjoon himself, and your skin feels like it’s going to melt off your bones if he doesn’t run his hands over it, and you don’t ever want this moment to stop because your heart is beating out of your chest and your stomach is doing somersaults but your head is spinning and you also need to unlock your door if you want to get him in your bed, but you can’t feel your keys in your hand anymore and you don’t even know when you dropped them.

Eventually, he pulls away, eyes still closed as he leans his forehead against yours and just breathes. His chest is heaving in time with yours and you can feel his hands trembling slightly where they rest against your cheek, and you want to kiss him until they’re steady again but you also have a sneaking suspicion that it would be counter-productive.

“I really should get going,” He whispers, and he winces like he can feel your heart drop to your feet. “I know, but I have to open the shop in the morning, and I wanna get there early to finish a project.” The grimace on his face is more than enough to tell you that he wants to leave just as much as you want him to - which is to say, not at all, you’re almost to the point where you’d like him to come in and then never leave again. Nevertheless, you know the pain of opening shifts and deadlines, so you force yourself to nod.

“I get it,” You tell him, though neither of you has made any move to let go of the other. “I’ve got work tomorrow anyway,” true, though not until the afternoon, “And my apartment could use a clean,” false, you cleaned it that day so it was perfect if he happened to come in, “And…and your job is important.”

He sighs, grip tightening once more before he takes a single step back. He bends down to grab your dropped keys and slides them into your still-somewhat shaky hand.

“Text me?” He says, and his voice is hushed and tentative. You wonder if he expects you to say no.

“Like you can ever stop me now,” You reply with a grin, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He grins and this time you don’t hesitate to poke at the dimples that appear.

“I’ll see ya,” He says with a grin as he presses one last kiss to your hand before turning and heading back to his car. There’s a lightness in his steps, and even from here you can see his grin.

“See ya,” You call into the night before heading into your apartment.

That one date quickly turns into two which turns into three which turns into so many you can’t count. It seems like every time you both have time off that overlaps, you’re out. Movies, dinner, an afternoon at a museum exhibit, even a picnic by the river. It’s wonderful and your heart flutters with joy every time you think about it, and even Taehyung had commented about how happy you seemed recently. You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the worst thing that happened was that they had to wait for a part to come in to finish fixing JeepJeep, and that couldn’t be helped. Namjoon was even paying out of pocket to get it expedited, despite your protests that he didn’t have to and that you’d be happy to pay for it yourself.

Still, as adamant that Namjoon was that he treat you at every turn, you had your own plans. You’d paid for several meals before he had the chance, bought him more than one gift that made his eyes crinkle in delight, and frequently brought him dinner on nights where he worked late.

This was one such night. Bag of takeout in hand as you walk the short distance from the bus stop to the garage, you can see the light inside even from here. The music can be heard even as you step into the lot, a thudding bass that drowns out all other noise around it - not that there’s anything nearby open at this time of night. You can just barely see Namjoon’s legs sticking out from under the back of some Kia, and you hear him muttering along to the song playing. He’s the last one here, as you’ve discovered is the usual schedule in the garage; it gave him a multitude of time to work and study, and he seemed to prefer it when no one was around. The garage was warm inside, a combination of heating and the industrial lights that kept everything blazing, but tonight you were grateful for it; the cool breeze of the afternoon was just starting to turn that bit too chilly, and the sundress you’d put on earlier was just shy of being warm.

“Hey,” You call, “I brought you some dinner. You wanna eat in the office?” He rolls out from under the Kia, and as usual, you’re floored by just how sexy he looks in his work uniform. Jumpsuit rolled down to his hips to combat the heat in the garage, white tee sticking to his chest and highlighting the muscles that make you drool, the cap on and turned backwards so the oil and gunk doesn’t get in his hair. He gives you a dimpled smile as he stands and wipes his hands on a nearby rag.

“Nah, we can eat out here, give me a second to wash my hands.” He disappears into an employees-only area, and you can hear the faint sound of water running as you pull over a couple of stools and get the food set up on one of the workbenches. Namjoon reappears, drying his hands on a clean rag that he tucks into the waistband of his uniform. “I actually have a surprise for you,” He says as he sits.

“Oh really?” Your mouth is stuffed full of chicken, and he laughs at the sight. You make a face at him before swallowing. “What surprise?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you ahead of time, would it?” He makes a face in return and digs into his own food. You huff a little; you’ve never been very good at being patient, especially when you know you’re getting a present. You were notorious for sneaking into Christmas presents early, to the point where your parents started keeping them at your grandparents’ house to keep you from breaking into them.

The two of you eat in relative silence, only broken by the occasional anecdote of your day. When the food is finished, you both clean up the trash and Namjoon stretches as he leans back against the workbench. The position highlights his body and you can’t help yourself wondering what it looks like without the layers. As many dates as you’ve been on, there’s always been some reason or another why neither of you could spend the night; one of you worked too late, the other worked too early the next day, his roommate was home, you were dogsitting for Taehyung. It was frustrating and infuriating and you’d been about five seconds from ripping his clothes off the last time you’d seen him.

“So,” You drawl, giving him an expectant look. “What’s my surprise?”

“I really thought you’d last longer than that. Is the pleasure of my company not enough for you?”

“Joon, please, I’m dying, I waited for you to finish eating and everything because I’m such a good girlfriend.” You pout at him, but you don’t miss the stifled grin when you call yourself his girlfriend. He heaves a dramatic sigh and pushes off the workbench to take your hand.

“Alright, close your eyes,” He says. You obey immediately, following carefully as he leads you through the garage. You hear the bay door closing as you pass, and you assume the automatic timer kicked in to close them all for the night. You’re distracted from your thought as a soft clunk echoes in the garage and Namjoon lets out a soft curse. Still, he’s careful to keep you from any hazards as he guides you, eventually stopping you at what you figure is the other end of the garage.

“Okay,” He says, apprehension ringing through his voice. “You can open them.” You do, and you nearly sob at what you see.

JeepJeep, in all its glory, polished and waxed and shined, and looking nearly new again. You step forward and run your hand along the hood slowly. You whip around to face him with hope in your eyes.

“Go ahead, start her up.” You rush into the driver’s seat and find the key on the dash, ready and waiting. You slide them into the ignition but find yourself hesitating before you start it. You’re so hopeful, so ready for her to work the way she did when you first got her, that you aren’t sure what you’ll do if she doesn’t. Apprehension settles in your chest, clawing its way up your throat. You glance to Namjoon again and at his encouraging grin, you turn the key.

Your jeep absolutely roars to life, immediately, and she sounds beautiful. Better than the day your parents handed over her key, better than you’ve ever heard her, and you could weep, you’re so happy.

Instead, you turn her off, exit the vehicle, and stride the few steps to the hood where Namjoon is standing to pull him into a heated kiss. Your hands tangle in his hair immediately, pulling him in as close as you can. Words aren’t enough for this, can’t express the sheer and immense gratitude that you feel, the absolute elation at having your jeep back. He returns the kiss, surprised but content as his hands settle on the curve of your hips.

You deepen the kiss, surging upwards and pressing your body flush against Namjoon’s until you’re almost stumbling forward. He steadies you and, without breaking the kiss, walks you back until you’re resting against the hood of your jeep. You can feel the beginnings of his arousal against your hip, and you want more. You want to show him how grateful you are. You part from his lips to ghost your lips down his neck until you get to his throat, at which point you bite. It’s gentler than you usually would be, but it still makes him hiss, and you lap at the mark left to lessen the pain.

When Namjoon’s hands start sliding down, dangerously close to your ass, you bite again, this time suckling at the skin. You don’t stop until he hisses your name and tangles a hand in your hair, loose and wild, and when you finally do pull back, you give him the most innocent smile.

“We’re in the middle of the shop, are you seriously trying to-”

“Do you want me to stop?” You interrupt, cocking a brow at him. His eyes are blown wide and there’s a quickly-forming hickey on his neck that you take great pride in, and he looks like he’s struggling with himself.

“This isn’t how I pictured this,” He finally admits, and you smile.

“It’s not how I pictured it, either,” You agree. He looks slightly relieved that you had other plans as well, but at this point, you’re too far gone to care about those plans. Your nice, comfortable bed is ideal, yes, but it is also so far away, and you really can’t wait that long.

You maintain the eye contact with him as you slide down to your knees, hands massaging up and down his thighs. “Do you want me to stop?” You ask again, softer, as your hands hesitate just shy of the hardness you can feel through his uniform. Your breath ghosts along it, you’re that close to it, but you refrain from touching it at all until he gives you a sharp look.

“Fuck, no, I don’t,” He finally says, and you grin. You can hardly believe you’re about to do this, honestly, even as Namjoon unbuttons the next few clasps to his jumpsuit to reveal all he’s wearing under it is his boxers. You don’t wait for him to take them off, instead sliding the band down just enough for his dick to spring free.

You’re not ashamed at how your mouth waters at the sight.

You’ve never thought of dicks as being anything attractive, in and of themselves. For everyone else you’d been with, they were merely a tool to be used, attached to an attractive man and attractive in their skill, but not in their looks.

God, you were so wrong.

Namjoon’s dick is glorious. Seriously beautiful. It’s long and thick and curves just barely, and you clench instinctively at the thought of it inside you. You’d be worried at how you’re going to fit it if you couldn’t already feel the wetness dripping down your thigh. You were so turned on it could probably slide right in, and you clench again at the thought before reminding yourself that you were on a mission.

The first brush of your hand against his dick has Namjoon huffing, impatient and ready to feel your mouth on him. It’s the first you’ve seen of his authoritative side all night, and you decide that you want more of it. You glide your fingers along the length of him, ghosting over the tip just enough for him to know you were there at all before repeating the motion, again and again. He thrusts forward just a small bit each time, chasing the feeling of your hand, and you can’t stop the smirk on your face as you look up to find him glaring down at you.

“I thought you were going to do something down there,” He growls. You do your best not to shiver at the sound of it.

“I am doing something,” You reply cheekily as you slide your thumb along his slit. He hisses again and shudders. “Isn’t there supposed to be a give and take?”

“If you don’t put that mouth of yours to work, you’re going to see exactly what take means,” He tells you, and you grow hotter at the thought. It must show on your face because he raises a brow at you. “Oh, is that what you want, baby? You want me to take it?” You moan a little at the thought, and though you’re never going to admit it, he knows, just by that small tell.

“Then I’ll take it.” He tightens the grip he has in your hair. “Open your mouth for me, baby.” You comply, and he slides in completely. You can feel him hitting the back of your throat and your nose is buried in the small patch of dark hair at the base of his dick and you don’t even care. Your eyes roll back a little as he slides himself back out before thrusting in once more, and you moan around his cock.

The sound makes him shiver, and he repeats the action, tip hitting your throat once more, and you moan again. He hisses your name and it sounds like music to your ears. You slack your jaw, allowing him more room, and run your tongue along the underside as he slides in and out, groaning softly at the feeling.

“Fuck, you like this baby?” He asks you, falling forward slightly to brace himself against the hood of your jeep. “You like it when I use your mouth like this? Like it when you’re just a little cockslut for me?” You whimper and do your best to nod, though it’s difficult when he’s shoved his dick so far back in your throat that you’re swallowing around it. The taste of his pre-cum hits your tongue as he slides back out, and you’ve honestly never tasted anything so good in your life.

“You’re so good for me like this, baby,” He says. “You’re so pretty like this, on your knees for me. So fucking gorgeous, god, I could cum just like this.” You whine at that; if he’s going to cum inside of you, you sure as hell don’t want it to be down your throat.

He stops the next time he slides out, a soft pop echoing through the room as he does. There’s a trail of spit connecting your lips and the tip of his cock and it’s so erotic you could cum just from that. He’s dripping pre-cum and you give small kitten licks to lap it up before it can fall to the ground. His free hand cradles your chin and he pulls your face up to look him in the eye.

“Get up,” He commands. You obey, scrambling to your feet and glad to get off the cool concrete floor of the garage. He pushes you back until you hit the hood of the jeep, hands running along your legs and up the skirt of your dress. He grips the backs of your thighs and lifts, with more strength than you realized he had, until you’re sitting on the hood, legs splayed around him. He darts forward and sucks a mark into the skin of your collarbone, and you whimper at the feeling of his lips on you.

His hands slide up your thighs, teasing and light, and they drag the skirt of your dress up with them. By the time you can feel the air against your clothed core, he’s pulled back, and when you open your eyes, you find him staring straight at it.

“Shit, babe,” He hisses, “Lace? Fuck, I almost don’t wanna take them off.”

“Then don’t,” You reply without hesitation. He looks up at you, and a crooked smile slowly comes over his face.

“God, you really are fucking perfect, aren’t you?” He mutters. He leans in again and kisses you hard. It’s unforgiving and sloppy and hot and when added to the heat of his hands against your inner thighs as he slowly strokes your skin, it has you grinding against the air for some form of release.

“Please, Joon,” You gasp, hands grasping desperately at his shirt. “Please, please, I need you.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg,” He whispers, laughter clear in his voice as one finger moves to slide against your slit. Even through the fabric, the friction makes you buck, and you can’t stop the moan as he flicks at your clit. “You’re so wet, baby. Absolutely soaked. Tell me, are you always like this when you’re around me?”

You whimper as he moves his fingers to the side to slide his fingers along your slit once more, collecting your wetness as he does. One starts to slowly rub circles just above your clit, close enough that it has you moaning, but so far away from where you need them to be. Your body is shuddering, and you’re dimly aware of your hips rolling to match his circles.

“I asked you a question.” His voice is harsh in your ear as his palm slaps against your thigh. The pain lingers, just enough to make you clench around nothing, and you can feel yourself getting wetter. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” You gasp. “Yes, I’m always this wet around you.” He smiles and slides a finger inside of you. It’s easy, and you contract around him,

“Good girl,” He tells you, thrusting his finger in and out. You whimper again, and he presses a kiss against your neck. Your hips are moving of their own accord, rutting desperately into his hand. “Now tell me, have you imagined this? Did you think about me fucking you in this garage, making you cum with just my fingers?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, yes, I’ve thought about it.” You moan as he slides another finger inside and begins you fucking with them, curling them just enough that they brush against the one spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. “Fuck, Joon, please, I need you.” You’re fucking yourself against his hand, hips grinding hard against his hand. The meat of his palm presses deliciously against your clit, and you feel like sobbing, you’re so close.

His fingers slide out of you, leaving you contracting around nothing, and the emptiness echoes throughout your chest. “Ssh, baby,” Namjoon says softly. You feel a finger against your lips and instinctually open your mouth. He slides his fingers inside and you suck, licking your own slick off of them. You look at him as you do it, and relish in the fact that he looks just as wrecked as you feel. “Fuck, I need to be in you. Do you have a condom?”

“No, it’s fine,” You say quickly. “I’ve got an IUD, we’re both clean, please just fuck me, Joon, I need it.” His grip on your thigh tightens at your words, and he nods.

“Yeah, okay,” He mutters. He pushes lightly against your shoulder and you let him. He lays you back on the hood, gripping your thighs and pulling your hips down to line himself up with your entrance. “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.”

“I know, it’s all you, Joon,” You tell him, back arching as you feel the tip of his dick against your entrance. “It’s all because of you, you get me like this, just wanna fuck you all day.”

With a groan, he slams into you, and you gasp. Your back arches up off the hood at the same time your legs wrap around his hips to keep him inside you. The moan tears itself from your throat, echoing through the building, and you’re glad for the music still booming through the garage. Namjoon moves, one hand bracing himself against the jeep as he lets himself adjust to the feeling of your raw heat against him and the other keeping your hips steady in an iron grip.

“Fuck, Namjoon, move, please,” You whine, hips already grinding against him in an effort to entice him into following your wishes. He nods and starts shallow thrusts. The stretch burns in a way that makes you want more, and you can feel every inch of him inside of you as he begins to fuck you harder.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” He moans, and if that isn’t the best sound you’ve ever heard, you aren’t sure what is. “God, I fucking…fucking love the feel of your pussy around me, it’s so good, and you’re fucking beautiful like this, taking my cock so well, babe.” You whimper and roll your hips against his, hands scrambling for any kind of purchase against the hood of the jeep and finding none.

“Harder, Joon, fuck,” You pant, moving to grip your own thighs in a desperate attempt to release some of the energy building up in your gut. He complies, fucking you harder against the jeep. You think you can hear it moving, but you can’t be sure, because all of your focus is currently on the pressure against your pelvis, the way the rolling heat between your legs is expanding, and you can’t even be bothered to control the wanton moans coming out of your mouth. Namjoon is just as loud, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he pumps in and out of you. One of his hands moves and he shifts, angling so that he hits your sweet spot with every thrust while his other hands begins to rub hard circles on your clit in time with his fucking.

“Fuck, yes, come on, baby, cum on my dick, wanna see you cum for me, wanna feel you as I fill you up,” Namjoon hisses, slapping at your thigh once more. That does the trick, the rubber band in your belly snapping as you reach your high; your back comes off the hood completely and you shoot forward, hands gripping Namjoon’s shirt so hard you think it might rip, hips rocking against his as you ride out your high.

It only takes a few shallow thrusts while you’re spasming around him for Namjoon to fall over that edge as well, and you can feel the hot liquid settling inside of you. There’s more of it than you thought there would be, enough that even as he slides out, you can’t miss the way it drips out of you.

You’re both panting as Namjoon slides your panties back into place, a smirk on his face as he does. You look at each other, and you let yourself fall back onto your elbows.

“I’ll get the lights and the music if you get the door,” He says. You’re up in a flash, heading to the door controls by the bay your jeep is parked at as Namjoon hurtles through the garage to turn off the music and lights. It takes less than five minutes, and only a couple of minor incidents in which you hear something fall to the garage floor, and you’re speeding down the road to your apartment.

If you had to stop in the parking lot of your building and ride him in the backseat, then, well…no one needed to know but the two of you.

#fic: give and take #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfiction #rm x reader #mechanic!namjoon #mechanic namjoon #kpop fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #ddaenggtan #it's finally done!!! i'm so excited

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Yes to Yuji wrecking Mahito! Just so much yes my boy needs to avenge those wrongfully killed!

See I wanted Geto to be on my shit list (as I'm not normally a bad guy lover) but I swear he wore me down reading the manga. Plus he's just so pretty he makes my brain all static noises 😳 Not to mention that backstory between him and Gojo like YES give me all the drama I need buried drama 🤩

Totally agree on the Mai thing. See I wanted to hate Todo too bc of well him beating on Megumi but the moment him and Yuji were just like "Big Dumb Meat Heads" together I threw that out the window! Those two together are *chefs kiss* Absolutely stupendous I never get tired of them 👌👌👌

Mai on the other hand is just crawling more and more under my skin. Like why you gotta be like that gurl? You wanna go in the crusty corner with Mahito? Cuz you gotta crusty attitude that needs fixing like yesterday 😐

Literary brain tells me it wants more drama/character growth between Megumi and Toji. But my useless overly big heart wants to punch Toji and protect Megumi at all costs bc he just showed up on the screen like the kool aid man and burst right into my heart and I shan't forgive Megumi for that but now I will die for him so ¯\_( ツ)_/¯

But I'm not the only one who lowkey fantasizes about self inserty type day dreams??? Like every day all day I got my thoughts flowing into 500 different lil oneshots I'm too chicken to post anywhere bc I havent written anything in a while and I feel I'm rusty. But your idea! YOUR IDEA WOO BOI- I'm not even a Gojo fanatic (like I adore him but my heart dick thudded elsewhere RIP) but that scene you described of straddling him just to rip his blindfold off in the heat of an arguement that's clearly deadly to either party- Just to see him on the brink of tears fighting back every emotion to slate his composure to cocky/uncaring. Only to have it obviously failing, and the metaphorical reality around you both crumbling along with Gojo's emotional state- Oh God I would read that crap outta something like that. It fills me with the angst and I thrive on it daily *heavy breathing* You should think about posting more of your original content too! Self inserty or not bc that sounds down right brilliant on so many levels

💛anon

Bro I can't help but feel had for Gojo. That shit must have hurted. Like he looked so calm and collected when it all happened but was he really? His best friend potential lover went feral and murdered an entire village AND his family then he tried to kill his first years once and now AGAIN what is happening. Did you see the look on Gojo's face when Yaga told him he went rogue? That was a face of hurt and betrayal he couldn't even begin to understand at the young age of... What was it, 17? 18? He was practically a little itty bitty baby compared to now. I haven't read the prequel yet don't laugh at me but I've heard it hurts so much worse having to face Getou back then AND now. Stupid brain worms, stop fucking around.

I wanted to hate Todo too hut before he even turned good I couldn't. I have a thing for big buff boys who have zero brains and too much brawns I'm looking at you Metal Bat, Captain Ōbi I just wanna adopt/marry them because in all reality they're trying their best. I'm really glad Todo exists and has his big brother delusion because honestly I think that's something Yuji needs, especially in the current arc. Yuji needs as much support as he can get.

PFFFT CRUST CORNER I cannot with you omg they do need to sit on the time out chair for s bit and think about what they've done lmaooo

DID YOU CALL TOJI ZENIN- FUSHIGURO THE FUCKING KOOL AID MAN AHAHAHHHSH oh my god i hate this so fucking much or were you calling Megumi the koolaid man bc really each one is absurd n e wayz I dunno bro I rlly can't wait until Megs wakes up post Shibuya arc and actually has time to process what the fuck happened to him back then. I really want to know if he can connect the dots by himself and realize holy shit that was the source of my daddy issues right there in the flesh and how he reacts to him being a curse and all that. There's so many ways that can go too it's scary to think about.

Low key unrelated but I have a theory that Gojo can see everything from his little cube prison and knows what's going on. Its probably because of the six eyes, or because he's just fucking Gojo, or even because Geto seems kinda sadistic and would do something like that. But I can imagine him watching Megs and Toji fight and it absolutely destroying him. For starters, Gojo killed him .... Right? Wtf is he doing back? What? Second don't commit suicide in front of your kid oh my god Toji what (I'm probably just salty because of a past experience, but also, calm down Toji oh my god) and third I can see it hurting Gojo because in a way it feels like he's been trying to protect Megumi. Its obvious Gojo has this attachment to Megumi, and maybe it's because they've known each other so long, but I don't think Gojo is prepared to deal with the aftermath. Does he have to tell him, if Megs doesn't put the pieces together? Will he have to knock some sense into him to actually tell him? Because he DID try to tell Megs once before and he avoided it like the plague. Its also gotta hurt when you feel like someone's dad and you witness them have a bad interaction with their other dad.

Throw in his daughter being on the brink of death, his other son being emotionally demolished, his second year kids lost in the void and not even his void, his best friend locked him in a box, his other best friend exploded, etc. I think Gojo I pretty distraught even if he doesn't show it

Bro okay my brain is riddled with ideas like this and 90% of them are always angst. Idk where tf they come from half the time but they exist and I hate it. They're always self inserts too.

So I actually read this ask last night, but due to personal reasons I didn't reply to it now, and I actually started experimenting writing out this scenario. I had to stop when I wrote the line "Approximately one year after the first finger was consumed, Itadori Yūji was formally executed. At three minutes to midnight, Sukuna Ryomen was expelled from his body, destroying the vessel along with it. The executioner was none other than the teenager's teacher and mentor Gojo Satoru. When Y/N awoke to this news, they attacked on sight."

Oh god I made myself so sad with that line

And i do really want to post some of my fics, like I did with Nobara Meeting Sukuna For The First Time. However, I only posted that because it was short and simple lmao it was basically just a meme I didn't even run it though grammarly like I do with the headcanons.

I like sticking to the headcanons as of right now because I feel like grammar didn't exist when I make those. I can spell things wrong and leave off punctuation and word then like I'm a third grader just learning English and no one will laugh lmao. Fanfics kinda stress me out because i want them to be perfect. I also have a hard time with fight scenes and transitioning and it's s mess.

I REALLY want to write out my Guardian Angel! Junpei AU because I think it's so cute. Just the idea that this boy is assigned to fight against fate and the higher ups and keep Yuji alive despite him being an idiot and a target is cute to me. Like I just canon him being the plantonic equivalent of in love with this boy and he feels like he rlly owes it to Yuji for trying to save him it's the LEAST he can do. Plus I need the mental imagine if Junpei annoying reader-chan into finding Yuji because "they play a pivotal role in Yuji's future" just for the "pivotal role" to literally be playing therapist and just being there for him and being a medium between Junpei and Yuji because guardian angels aren't allowed to reveal themselves to the person they're guarding but also/// he might risk his wings being stripped just to talk to Yuji one more time////

Okay I'm going to stop now

But yea, maybe if I have time and create little mini works like Nobara Meeting Sukuna For the First Time I'll def post them! I'll work on casually making them longer and soon I'll be confident to posts longer ones. But until then I hope just the headcanons at alright ;-;

#.ask #💛 anon #long post

[syncogon]

sad only 480p version this time, and delayed. oh well, temptation too strong, and clips on the weibo looked promising, so let’s go

mjy sighhh i guess he’s just dumb not malicious but man

“the truth isn’t important” glasses shing. oh wow that hair swish tho that was like unnecessarily well animated hahaha

iiiii just want jhx to tell off yy!! i think that’d be great, what a faceslap! also wtf is this thing? iron supplements?? a spray? icy-hot? 铁打损伤喷雾?? god i spent like five minutes trying to mouse-trace those characters and i still don’t know if this is supposed to be significant or if it’s just significant that jhx caught yy doing shady shit 

anyway given music / context it seems jhx is annoyed at what yy is doing? so yay friggin finally. “our classes aren’t at nanhua” nice 

“xu-da” vs “xu-ge” hmm. anyway jhx don’t fall for the lies. jhx is like sx, annoying and chuuni but probably isn’t as obnoxiously awful as he first appears... probably.... maybe. 

goddd sucks that the full version of this op is kinda weird, because i LOVE this op so much like holy crap. jiyi bei yingfu huanxing.... 

man now im like stressed about the yf at the airport scene. trailer showed an airport. what’s gonna happennn

this exchange about dd feels so weird like it sounds like ctg is trying to explain they’re not in any pre-relationship or smth but maggie is like “i don’t mind” in a way that makes it sound like she wouldn’t mind if they’re together? what??? but whatever

ok i really enjoy this cr/yf dynamic. like i feel like it’s a bit ooc and yf as portrayed here is maybe too far on the acquiescence but also it’s really funny and sparks joy for me so i’ll buy it. i’m happy to see like established relationship stuff i think bc i generally don’t in the stuff i watch. speaking of which i’m super glad that they didn’t make the awful dumb move of trying to insert like Another wack love triangle drama dynamic thing in this like the fans want yecong and tianmai!!

wowwww it’s so nice how supportive cr is being tho like i love to see it!

handholding!! soft!! nice inversion of the earlier part where cr is bandaging his fingers. but like -

WHY DOES SHE HAVE MARKS/CALLUSES ON HER THUMB AND NOT HER PINKY??? like ok i have not played ukelele but i sure have my own share of stringed instrument finger calluses and you don’t?? press on the string with your thumb???

still, they’re trying, it’s a cute detail, i appreciate it. i liked that one wwgk review i watched yesterday that pointed out s1 was like a coming of age story disguised as a music story, whereas s2 is like a real music story.... 

wait this is incredibly cute wtf. oh my god. 

YF SIGHED/FACEPALMED AT THAT? COME ON!! WTF THAT’S SO RUDE? THAT WAS ACTUALLY LIKE PRETTY GOOD?? AND SHE DID THIS JUST FOR YOU? like maybe not performance ready but bro she’s learned for two days!! also holy shit the strumming animation is really good for smth like this im impressed! that reminds me of the like actually legit violin animation they showed in the trailer yo im so ready 

like i totally understand the frustration (damn, maggie’s face... 3 free performances? really?) but also i feel SO BAD FOR CR HERE this is so awkward oh my godddd at least ctg like tries to apologize to her (and cr’s reaction to this whole thing is also v solid, good for her) but still like damn 

aww ahh man im glad maggie still like! supports encourages cr here! that’s also char dev being able to like get past her own complicated emotions at least for this sort of gesture 

awwww i also like seeing maggie’s coping, the happiness philosophy i always thought that was super interesting. she’s a great char! and i think running is good

animators animate a girl running normally challenge

oh nice you have to walk a bit after sprinting, good

the train track scenes are so pretty wahhh 

does... does the track just end there? what

the ~significance~ of maggie now sharing this piece of her that used to be a yf thing, with ctg 

also excellent bgm - oh omg it’s og soul link remix!!! 

“i don’t want you to go” 

MY GOD HE’S FINALLY MAKING A REAL MOVE. and one based in real friendship. GOD FUCKING FINALLY CTG AAAAAA she’s cryyying man this exchange is also pretty cute ngl 

i can’t believe they figured this out a full 4 episodes before the finale 

this is so pretty here wahhhhhh i wanna ss the whole thing in 1080p 

awhhhhhh

they never released pink twilight shanghai!! i want this ver!!! 

aww yayyy open still cheering her on - YF BE NICE TO YOUR GF COME ON

haha this is like reverse of cr tutoring him - WAIT YEAH YF YOU WERE A SHITTY ASS STUDENT COMPARED TO HER BE EXTRA NICE 

also remixed dream i dig it! sounds like new lyrics? 

julliard hahahaha

dong dong goddess

HAHAHA did dd just steal ctg’s fries

ctg: expressing some deep thoughts

me: just watching dd

“forever confident, forever happy” 

wait sooooooo are they a thing now or what did that count as a confession

“and qing’er is finally here” WHAT’S THE TEAAAAA WE STILL DON’T REALLY KNOW

“im a guitarist this is fine” YOU GO DD I LOVE YOU 

BEACH EPISODE BEACH EPISODE BEACH EPISODE 

omg oyzq. you’d think they were trying to extort a confession from him. what the hell is this instrument he said what is a xiao 箫. A WOODEN FLUTE? YOOO THAT’S COOL my god PLEASE let us get some kickass trad/modern fusion music im so ready 

“i trust ouyang” ahhh double char surnames are cool

HAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK

“because i’m about to have surgery on my knee” REALLY? REALLY? IS THIS REALLY HOW YOU’RE GOING TO JUSTIFY ALL THIS? FOLKS I AM LOSING MY SHIT I HAVEN’T LAUGHED OUT LOUD LIKE THIS IN SO LONG

ok this is interesting tho he’s not a dick for the hell of it it’s out of desperation or smth. but like half a year, oh no, what a horror. (i’m fresh out of hb feels ok you shaddap // tho i can also imagine the knife, like in lotus bloom, where they didn’t think szp’s injury was permanent). tho i do also like the “then we’ll be seniors we won’t have time to perform” but also that’s just a reminder that all of these ppl are like frigging 16 year olds and i still cannot take this seriously

i like “i didn’t expect, that i couldn’t give you the confidence to win”. god im so glad this confrontation is happening. man this feels like a wrap up already are they really spending all 3 last episodes on the competition? what’s the story gonna be? 

feel like he’d be less ugly with hairstyle that looked more consistently like this. anyway sucks that both of them are so ugly otherwise there’s some nice sun/moon (+stars?) imagery you can get going here

GROUP CHAT GROUP CHAT GROUP CHAT 

pretty! i wanna save this hq

it’s this bgm!!! godd i just want this track so bad

an empty beach?? in china near shanghai??? 

anyway ahhh it’s the iconic beach shot! i like how the promo ver cuts out dd lmfao

wow nine episodes in and cookie finally gets a character moment??? cookieeeeeeee i missed you

ok i can’t ship them he calls her shifu but also THIS IS SUCH A CUTE FRIENDSHIP calling every day 10 minutes?? wow!! i love dongdong and i love cookie. also this hits different in covid times “no one says that we can’t be friends because of distance” 

oh i guess they are pushing this as a ship. meh.

wahhhhh. need this hq then i have more propic material. 

HE HAS COVID 

ah lang is VIBING oh to be the ah lang of my own life. parasurfing. walking into poles. 

wow this is so modern! the red bag thing! wow i do love this show flexing the modern-ness 

this is the mercedes benz arena im SURE of it ahhhh holy crap this crowd. oh to be in a crowd without mask

IT’S THIS DUDE AGAIN like the trailer spoiled this but if i found out this right here right now i would’ve lost my shit my god hahhaah

im like torn about how i feel about cr’s dress like idk if it fits her well even if it’s pretty

:<

oh im scared i hope this doesn’t become embarrassing 

:0

OMG THEY INCLUDED PENCIL SKETCH OF THAT S1 SCENE. HAHAHA. char growth yayyyyy

ok anyway im happy!! spent like an hour watching this or something lmao but good times!! much better than last ep HAHA yayyy im so glad we’re finally at the comp and lots of these little things have been tied up now im ready for new song drops!!!

#music up #mine #synco talks

[veganmikehanlon]

are there any other characters that you headcanon as vegan? if yes, can you explain why you do? 👀

in my lucky seven sanctuary au bev, richie, bill, and mike grow up in derry or just some small town, although the idea of the losers club being called to derry so that Their kids can defeat It like mike’s dad was is👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽 but without the supernatural element they grow up in a small town, mike on the farm that he swears he’s gonna get away from, maybe open up a sanctuary, create a new legacy. richie just wants to Get Away from all the small town small minded people, he wants to get out in the world. he’s also a total hippie. peace, love and happiness, my friends. bill is just regular and bev doesn’t know them.

so bill just completely fucks off for college like who knows what the fuck he’s doing there’s just some random obscure instagram posts and that’s it. then he publishes a book and suddenly he’s Everywhere, then he publishes another one you know a real stephen king insert and next thing you know there’s a movie! and wow! hot new celebrity couple bill denbrough and audra phillips seen eating at trendy vegan restaurants across europe! audra worked on a movie early in her career that totally changed her life and lead her to go vegan and bill was like this is the coolest woman in the world i’m gonna follow her to the end of the earth (which is 10 yrs away now according to the UN).

mike and richie go to separate but close colleges so they can stay together. richie majors in environment and sustainability and minors in theater. mike majors in business and dabbles in poli-sci and veterinarian studies which is where he meets eddie!

eddie had it rough growing up he was rly isolated and lonely and barely allowed to do anything. one day he’s exploring the woods by his house and he finds an injured bird and it just hits him the similarity between this helpless bird and himself. both in situations they’re unable to fly away from. so when he has the opportunity to leave for school he decides that he wants to be a vet bc animals don’t have the agency to decide to change their lives, but eddie can make them healthy and strong (and maybe he can make himself healthy and strong too). it isn’t until he meets mike though that he makes the connection between the pets he’s being taught to care for and the animals on his plate.

richie meets this really great guy, ben hanscom, around the same time. ben is studying architecture and has been getting really into sustainability and how to build for the future! ben and richie meet at this sustainability talk their school is hosting and really hit it off. after, richie is like do u smoke weed and ben who’s never had a weed in his life is like oh yeah ofc so they go get blasted in richie’s car where he just drops truth bomb after truth bomb abt sustainability and how animal agriculture has to fall for there to even be a future. poor ben who’s high for the first time in his life is just like oh my god oh my god oh my god but i want some doritos RN and richie is like i have a family size bag of sweet chili doritos in my dorm which are vegan. ben almost cries. and that’s the start of ben going vegan! it’s nice to have an experienced vegan (and snacker) to show you the ropes!

fast forward to graduation, mike and richie get engaged, mike buys the family farm, hires eddie as an on-site veterinarian and ben as a consultant (and hands on, bc it’s ben) for the redesign of the farm.

beverly rogan has a small clothing business in chicago. her husband tom works the finances and she makes the clothes. it’s nice for what it is, although her friend kay tells her she could have more than a shitty husband that controls her life and business. bev and tom go to derry for a funeral and while there happen upon this adorable little store. it’s got recycled fashion, art, tools. bev suggests starting their own sustainable fashion line bc this is awesome and worthwhile and tom is like lol fuck you no that’s not the way we’re going to do things. they leave the store but bev Remembers. she goes back by herself and meets mike hanlon, one of the owners. she tells him how she’s a fashion designer but never thought abt not using animal products. they talk for a long time and mike invites her to dinner at the farm. mike introduces her to his fiancé who she Immediately loves bc he’s such a weird guy, and to some cows. mike shares his own story about how all this came about and the importance of fighting for freedom for everyone and bev just, breaks down just cannot get it together crying bc holy SHIT there’s a whole world that she never knew about that alines with this missing piece in her heart. and mike let’s her cry on his shoulder for as long as she needs to and tells her that she’s welcome anytime.

she leaves tom shortly after, shows up at lucky seven sanctuary’s door, and never looks back. she’s got a home and a family and a part time job in the store. when she isn’t helping on the farm, she’s creating designs for new sustainable clothing lines made by beverly Marsh.

stanley uris has been an accountant for one whole year out of college and it’s fine, but he’s got no connection to the work, something just doesn’t feel right about his life. he’s always been a confident, decisive guy and so this new feeling of being adrift kind of makes him lose it. so he quits his job and pursues his hobby which is nature photography (birds). he travels all over and starts learning abt conservation bc a lot of the birds he wants to photograph are dwindling in numbers bc their homes are being excavated for, and this is the thing that really sends him over the edge, animal agriculture. and like. that’s Not Right. it Should be empirically impossible for one business to be so powerful. so he makes the change to veganism about a year into his new nomadic lifestyle. so he actually meets mike in a photography facebook group and they hit it off and are pen pals for awhile. stan happens to start thinking about settling down when mike tells him they have to hire an accountant bc the farm and their business ventures have grown so much and stan is like well shit, i’m an accountant! so he goes out there and meets everyone and gets the lowdown and just absolutely falls in love with all of it and the next thing everyone knows, he’s moved in.

eventually bill hears about lucky seven sanctuary and he’s like holy shit i grew up with those guys! i can’t believe they really did it! and so they reconnect and they all live happily ever after!

#i also have like general hcs lol #and stranger things hcs #but i had to do this #lucky seven sanctuary #mike hanlon #richie tozier #hanzier #bill denbrough #audra phillips #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #stanley uris #veganmo #amd st hcs

[starrysence]

stars | ralbert

genre: fluff and some angst

words: 1791

warnings: swearing, minor character death (mentioned), race makes a murder joke bc thats just race for ya

other things: i will die with the hc that race is shorter than albert sorry

×××

age eight

the first time race and albert go stargazing together, they're on a camping trip with race's family. it's albert who asks elisa higgins if he and race can go hang out in the nearby clearing and look at the stars.

with a soft smile and a note of the excited, hopeful grins on both the boys' faces, elisa agrees, and they thank her eagerly, promising to be back soon before holding hands and rushing off.

"you like the stars?" race asks albert as they settle down on the cool grass.

albert smiles at him and nods before looking up at the sky. "i love them. i think every star has a story."

"really?" race's voice is full of curiosity as he follows albert's gaze to the starry night sky, "whaddya mean by that, albie?"

"like... every star has a reason for bein' there," albert replies, trying to piece together the right words. "maybe an angel dropped 'em. or maybe someone died and became a star, and now they're watchin' over everyone they love."

"i never thought of it like that," race whispers in awe.

albert chuckles softly and shrugs, "no one has. it's kinda stupid anyway."

"hey, no," race responds immediately, pouting and resting his head on his friend's shoulder. "i think it's real neat."

•••

age fourteen

the second time race and albert go stargazing together, they're on a hill at a park.

"it's been a while since we've done this together, huh?" albert asks with a smile, nudging race gently.

race chuckles and nods. "yeah. i've missed it."

"to think this is only the second time we've done it."

"wild," race agrees. "you still think all stars have their own story?"

"i mean... yeah. it's a cool thought," albert replies with a shrug. "one i've grown up my whole life with. it's kind of hard to just let go of that and not think it anymore."

race smiles warily, and his tone is soft when he speaks up again. "you think one of 'em could be rosie?" his voice falters as he says her name, and albert frowns.

"oh, racer," he mumbles as he pulls his friend close. "'course. in fact, i'm sure one of 'em is."

race is almost surprised at how easy he finds it to lean into albert's embrace, and he finds himself greatly enjoying the warmth and security it provides.

"it's been four years, al," race sighs shakily. "i should- i should be over this, but she was only nine, and they- they just—"

"tonio, we've talked about this before," albert tells him quietly. "she was your sister. i know how close you are with all of them and i know it must've hurt so bad when you lost her. i can't imagine what it would be like for me if i lost one of my brothers."

"albert..." race trails off and albert's breath catches in his throat at his friend's use of his full first name.

"thank you," race finally breathes out. albert only realises how tense race's body has been when he feels the smaller boy relax in his arms.

"any time," albert whispers. "just... remember she's one of the stars, okay?"

race nods and manages to look up at albert with a small smile that makes his heart do a strange flip.

"yeah," race says softly, "she's one of the stars."

•••

age fifteen

the fourth time race and albert go stargazing together, it's because race asked albert to meet him on the hill.

"i have something to tell you," they say simultaneously.

"you first," albert smiles sheepishly.

"no, no, you can go first," race counters.

"race, c'mon."

"ugh. fine."

silence.

a few minutes pass.

more silence.

"race?" 

“sorry,” race replies, staring down at his lap. he feels the tears pooling up in his eyes, and despite his best efforts, they begin to fall.

“race? oh my god, racer, is everything okay?” albert asks worriedly, pulling the smaller boy into an embrace. his heart aches at the way race is shaking, his body wracking with sobs.

“what if you hate me for this? what- what if i lose you?” his voice breaks. “i can’t lose you, albie, you’re my best friend!”

“nothing you say is gonna make me hate you, race. as long as i’m alive, you’re never gonna lose me. we’re never gonna lose what we have, i promise.”

“i’m pan,” race whispers quietly, voice full of fear.

“you’re- you’re pan?” albert asks incredulously.

when he feels race nod against him, his eyes get watery, and he sobs with relief.

“holy shit, racetrack,” albert says, laughing through his tears. “i was gonna tell you that i’m bi.”

race pulls back and stares at albert with wide eyes, and soon both boys are laughing and crying and hugging so, so tightly.

“we’re such idiots, oh my god,” race says breathlessly. “i cannot believe we were both so afraid of this.”

“no one i’d rather be an idiot with than you,” albert chuckles, taking race’s hands in his own. “i love you, race.”

race smiles widely and squeezes albert’s hands. “i love you, too, albert.”

•••

age sixteen

the fifth time race and albert go stargazing together, it's because albert sent race a text asking if he's willing to meet up at 'their spot.'

"what's up, al?" race asks, worried.

albert shrugs, keeping his gaze fixed on the sky above them. "nothing, really. i couldn't sleep so i thought getting a breath of fresh air and spending time with you would help me relax."

"awwwwwwwwww—"

"oh my god, race, stop," he snorts, lightly punching his friend in the arm.

race laughs and leans into albert. "long story short, that's really sweet. and kinda gay."

"thanks," albert chuckles as he wraps his arm around the smaller boy. "i'm sorry for calling you out here for no reason."

"yeah, i was worried that either something horrible happened or that you wanted to murder me without anybody there to watch," race jokes.

albert rolls his eyes fondly, "good to know you trust me after the - what, twelve? - the twelve years we've been friends."

"hey, anything could ha—"

"shut up, racer, i'm not gonna kill you!" albert exclaims, grinning. "i love you too much."

race freezes, and suddenly albert regrets his words.

that is, until race leans in and whispers, "but, like, no homo, right?"

"you little bitch!" albert shoves race away, face burning as race covers his mouth to smother his laughter.

"i may be a little bitch, but at least i'm your little bitch."

"kinky."

race winks, "you know it."

"you're fucking shameless!" albert laughs loudly, and race flashes him a cheeky grin. both their hearts flutter, their minds buzz, and their stomachs burst into hundreds of very, very aggresive butterflies (in the best way possible, of course).

•••

age seventeen

the eighth time race and albert go stargazing together, it's after they decide to ditch their homecoming dance. race touches albert's shoulder, the skin visible through his ripped shirt. albert hisses in pain and flinches, and race immediately pulls his hand back.

"sorry, albie," he apologises with a frown.

"you're okay, racer," albert responds, giving him a small smile.

"we really should get you home and take care of all this, you know—"

"i'll be fine, tonio."

albert doesn't miss the way race's breath wavers when he uses the nickname, and he chuckles softly.

"what?" race asks, raising an eyebrow.

"nothing, it's nothing," he says with a bigger smile. "i love you, race."

"i love you, too, al," race sighs. "you didn't have to get into a fight with 'em, you know. i coulda handled it myself. you coulda gotten kicked out."

albert shrugs. "those delancey brothers were in for it. you know this ain't the first time they've said shit like this to you. hell, it ain't the first time they've... said shit like this." he laughs humorlessly and shakes his head, "they had it a long time coming."

"you're kinda shaking, dude," race responds after a beat of silence, nothing but concern in his words. he places his hand on albert's arm and rubs small circles into it, noticing the way al relaxes. "and you're tense. are you sure you're okay?"

"i'm okay," albert says quietly with a nod. "it's just the adrenaline."

"okay." race smiles warmly at him.

albert isn't sure what it is, but something compells him to reach out and hold race's face in his hands; gently, almost deathly afraid of hurting the boy he's known for so many years. the boy he's fallen in love with.

race's smile widens and he leans eagerly into albert's touch, "what's this? you being affectionate?"

albert laughs breathily and runs his thumb over race's cheek, "when i tell you i love you, i mean it. i really do, race."

the way race's lips part and the way his eyes widen make albert question if what he's said is too much at one time, and he begins to let go of race before the shorter boy grabs his wrists and holds his hands in place.

"you mean it?" he whispers. albert nods.

thats all it takes for race to grin and throw his arms around albert's neck, pecking his lips and his nose and his cheeks before laughing the most beautiful laugh albert has ever heard.

"good, 'cause i mean it, too."

albert smiles, "you remind me of the stars, racer."

"and how is that, albie?"

"well, they're everywhere on your face. in your eyes." albert revels at the blush rising on race's face, thanking the moonlight for making the light pink colour visible. "on your cheeks." he kisses the patches of freckles on race's cheeks "your nose." kisses the freckles on his nose. "your lips."

this time, before albert can make the move, race does, kissing him full on the lips, both grinning and laughing too much to kiss properly.

"i love you," race mumbles after they part, burying his face in the crook of albert's neck.

"i love you, too," albert smiles and wraps his arms around race, kissing the top of his head and playing with his blond curls.

"we really have to get you home soon," race says albert's neck, and albert laughs.

"just a few bruises. i'll be fine," he replies.

"noooo," race whines and pulls back out of albert's embrace. "your place. now."

"moving a little fast, aren't we?"

race scoffs as he gets up, grabbing albert's hand to pull him onto his feet as well. "you know what i meant."

albert snorts, but he squeezes race's hand and they walk the rest of the way just like that; laughing, holding hands, occasionally falling quiet to smile up at the stars and thank them silently.

×××

my fave idiot boys i love them !!!!!! ansd i hope you all liked this!

-sanj 💕

tag list:

@one-candy-cane-please​ | @suddenly-im-respecsable | @intoomanyfandomstopickaname​ | @be-more-chill-evan-hansen​ | @aw-jus-let-em-try | @bencookisagod | @well-the-kids-do-too ​| @auspicioustarantula​ | @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn​ | @have-we-got-news-for-you​ | @not-a-scab​ | @pineappapizza | @andthewoildwillknow​ | @concrete--donuts​ | @stopthe-presses​ | @thomasbeingthomas | @i-love-loki-and-sherlock | @maxvanna | @spot-me50-papes | @and-i-lostmy-shoe | @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing | @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog | @backgroundnewsies | @ridin-in-style | @sunshine-e-cigarettes | @macaroni-0verlord | @probablyeunoia | @thebroadwayaesthetic | @how-bout-a-crookedpolitician | @fellthroughableedingtrapdoor | @awkwardstranger98 | @bxnesof92

[if you want to be added to my tag list, please shoot me an ask or a message letting me know! i’d be happy to add you!]

#newsies #newsies live #race higgins #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #ralbert #sanj scribbles #wow its been ages since ive written anything uhhh sorry #:(((((((

[isroselalondebisexual]

What do you think Rose Egbert would be like? :0 And Dave Harley, John Lalonde, and Jade Strider

Rose Egbert, raised in a supportive, loving home environment, would probably still be fighty and punchy because I don’t think there’s a single parent in existence that could ever change that about her, but she’s also very likely going to be more inclined to wait until being PROMPTED before she lets loose her floods of salt and snark. So like, a pretty regular girl on first impressions, definitely deeply entrenched in her Hot Topic mall goth phase, wears chokers from Spencers and whatnot, but pretty friendly at face value and in all the advanced literature courses, has been in every psychology class the public education system offers. On the debate team. And so you’re like, cool, she’s on debate, that should be fun, she’s pretty well composed as a person I bet she has some good thoughts. And then you attend one of the debate matches. And you see a side of Rose Egbert you never knew existed and holy hot DAMN you’re not sure if you’re terrified or in love with her. Possibly both. Probably both. She’s quick witted alright, devastatingly intelligent and in this to WIN. Dad Egbert has all of her debate trophies (medals? I wasn’t in debate idk how these things work) displayed as proudly as he displayed his clown statues in the canon timeline. Her role as a Seer of Breath is to best free the timeline and her friendgroup from the clutches of the Literally-A-Demon Lord of Time, who seeks to enslave them, their timeline, and the universe to his whims, to become his playthings. Her role is to forsee the best route, not in terms of luck, but as a specific, pointed fuck you to Doc Scratch, Lord English, and everything associated with them. That part in canon where Rose is talking to Doc and he’s like “do you even still have that emotion?” or whatever and she’s like “Why, yes, it seems it’s all been mysteriously relocated to my middle finger. The dark magics are at it again.” Like that but times a thousand she is SMART she has FORESIGHT and she is going to FREE THEIR TIMELINE, BITCH.

Dave Harley grew up alone on an island with a magic dog and some weird chess folk, so first of all he doesn’t know what a gender is so jot that down, second of all what do you mean boys don’t like boys? Obviously boys like boys, he likes boys, u r foolish, u silly human culture you. So uh, you know how Dave is like, this huge massive attention whore in canon and he starts out “I’m so cool are you noticing me being cool and not caring over here”? Yeah no, immediately bypasses that, this boy wants ATTENTION so TALK TO HIM DAMMIT. His only real guide for physical touch has been a dog and some people who are not human so Personal Space Whomst? Dave is here, he is in your personal space, you are paying attention to him bitches. His collection of weird dead shit is even weirder, given that it is a Harley tradition to taxidermy weird shit and also he lives out on an island now. Probably takes the PRETTIEST photos of like, the island views and stuff, which he naturally posts online and gets a lot of likes and reblogs for which, good, give him that sweet sweet validation. His selfies are everywhere. Go like them. His role as the Knight of Space would be a pretty important one, he’s upholding the balance of the universe and breeding the new one and stuff, which basically just means he’s the weird frog dad now. You see all those frogs? Those are his babies. He loves them. Smorch. Dave ew don’t kiss frogs that’s gross. Dave does not care, Dave is gonna smooch those frogs bc he loves them and all their mutant little paradox offspring. Dave the frog whisperer. Whenever Karkat’s getting screechy he just like. Takes one out of his sylladex or his hood or pocket or SOMEWHERE and sets it delicately down in front of Karkat when he’s not looking and Karkat proceeds to screech and flip out and Dave laughs at him. This Dave is likely a lot more carefree, but doesn’t have a good grasp of concepts like “responsibility” or “giving people space.” A good and goofy kid, with some nice tasty abandonment issues probably thrown into the mix there somewhere. He doesn’t wanna be alone again.

John Lalonde very likely has a very bad grasp of what consequences are. If he breaks shit, they can just buy a new one, if he pranks someone a little too mean or says something that goes a little too far, his mom is easy to forgive him. My dear sweet ADHD child probably didn’t do too good in school and did a lot of class clowning tomfoolery but Mom Lalonde didn’t discipline him for it at home so threats of “I will call your mother if you don’t settle down” didn’t have much of an effect on him. He’s a good kid! Friendly and loving and affectionate, but if he fucks up he doesn’t take responsibility for it and pulls the “it was just a joke!” card way too frequently and doesn’t know how to actually apologize or fix his mistakes. But even though he’s very outwardly childish, he’s also surprisingly mature for his age, by way of like, opinions and stuff? Like he’ll say stuff and it’ll seem totally left field for him cause John you’re like, the funny dude of our group, but he’s also the one who knows how to disinfect wounds and the RIDICULOUS importance of making sure your older sibling knows who their DD is when they’re off drinking with their friends and while he doesn’t have an emotional reaction to traumatic events right off the bat (like in canon) he does do a VERY good job of responding pragmatically to them, and that’s kind of a result of yeah, his mom’s his buddy, and yeah, she lets him get away with anything, but no, John doesn’t really get the chance to be a kid ALL the time, and in part he acts out like this because he’s frustrated that he CAN’T fully be a kid, so he’s overcompensating. His role as the Heir of Light would be as somebody who embodies luck and intellect, which he doesn’t really feel like he can do. He’s not smart, right? He’s never done well in school. But he has really high emotional intelligence, and he’s got street smarts no 13 year old has any business having, and he eventually comes to realize that he is lucky. He’s very lucky. He’s got good friends who love him and who he loves, a strong team who can conquer the world, the universe, even a demon with the strength of a green sun, and when John comes to appreciate consequences and ramifications of their actions, he would be better able to understand how to use his powers to become the luckiest little shit in the universe, and could look death in the face with confidence because he understands, now, he’s realized some things, some the easy way and some lessons were painfully hard, but he’s confident in what he’s doing and he’s got his friends at his back.

Jade Strider, I hate to say it, but I think she would end up a very meek individual. Very, very hypervigilant, aware of everyone’s mood around her and this HUGE people pleaser, because as far as she’s concerned “not actively pleased” might as well be utterly synonymous to “actively displeased.” Life is uncertain to her, she’s very diligent about reading the moods of others and making them happy. Everyone loves her and think she’s just absolutely the best, she’s always ready to listen, always eager to cheer her friends up when they’re feeling down, doesn’t say jack SHIT about herself. If people ask she straight up lies. She does NOT talk about her own problems, even worse than in canon. She is happy go lucky and pleasant to be around, see? She’s doing great. Don’t worry about her! Oh do you need to talk about something? She’s got hair-trigger reflexes and does NOT react well to sudden loud noises or jumpscares. She’s very forgiving, because it’s only natural that sometimes her friends will hurt her feelings, right? That’s what love looks like. Some things just can’t be prevented, so why bother. Lotta learned helplessness kinda shit going down. Very reactive to positive feedback and physical affection (as long as she sees it coming) but has no idea how to go about asking for it. She’s very popular at her school for being pretty and cool and badass and friendly all tied up into one but her friendships are very shallow with her school friends, because if she cannot open up about herself, what room is there for emotional intimacy? As a Witch of Time, her main thing that needs to happen is she needs to get fed up. She needs to get pissed off. She doesn’t deserve this shit! She’s thirteen! She doesn’t deserve a parent who didn’t love her, she doesn’t deserve to have the weight of the timeline on her shoulders, she doesn’t deserve to see her own corpse over and over and fucking OVER again! This isn’t fair, this isn’t right, she doesn’t FUCKING want this, fuck her Bro fuck the Game fuck keeping quiet she’s a KID and she’s HURTING and she will be fucking UPSET about it! And then she’s gotta let John, and Rose, and Dave hold her and tell her she’s right, she’s so right, she is absolutely entitled to her anger, she’s allowed to feel angry about this, she’s gonna be okay though, they’re there, they love her and they’re not gonna let anyone hurt her ever again, she’s allowed to feel hellfire down deep to her bones but then, most importantly, she needs to let her friends help her, she needs to trust them, and learn how trusting works, learn what love looks like and how all her little broken pieces fit back together. And no, she’s never gonna fully recover from that. She knows she’s gonna be a compulsive liar down to her dying day and she’s never going to be able to trust openly like some people do, but she’s got people who love her and who she loves dearly, and she’s going to be okay, and every day it gets a little easier. Some days are bad, yeah, some days she’s angry over stuff she thought she got over years ago, but at the end of the Game, after all has been ripped asunder and they’ve moved into their new lives on Earth C, she is allowed to recover and to rest and sure it’s not always easy, but she’s always trying, and things are better now.

#Rose Lalonde #John Egbert #Dave Strider #Jade Harley #Rose Egbert #Dave Harley #John Lalonde #Jade Strider #answers #Homestuck #John #Jade #Dave #kidswap #Homestuck meta #analysis #Homestuck analysis

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter 10: $233

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

haha im dying!

thank you for being patient. i have one essay left, a group project (that includes another essay :P), a final quiz, a flash fiction piece, and a final. and i'm done with my first semester of college? i'm actually...taking next semester off so...probably more consistent updates after this. phew. oh and i won nano? wild

i'm exhausted and genuinely don't like at least 75% of this chapter, but it's done. please please p l e a s e read the end notes for a little disclaimer thanks

warnings: anxiety, depression, panic attacks, let me know if any other warnigns should be added

enjoy~

Sometimes Connor has the really strong urge to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s a weird feeling. This desire to just reach out and take Evan’s hand in his own and not even say anything, just hold it.

Sometimes Connor thinks that romantic feelings are bullshit. Especially when it’s seven in the morning and Evan sees him waiting by the locker and lights up like the goddamn sun and Connor’s stomach tries to become an Olympic gymnast.

Like right now.

Evan stands next to Connor, their arms almost touching, as he talks to Alana. They’re still trying to figure out a name for their club, because for whatever reason, Alana refuses to use The Fuck Project.

Jared thinks it’s hilarious, which has somehow worked against the name.

Alana is going on about the details. Evan nods, and he probably knows what’s going on, but Connor’s zoned out. Alana has this in the bag and also Connor isn’t actually involved in their little pet project. Even if the initial idea did come from Alana being way too fucking nosy.

She’s nice when she’s not picking Connor’s brain.

So Alana and Evan talk and Connor stands and people pass them and time until the next class starts ticks down and down and down. It’s a nice moment. Weirdly calm. For once, Connor doesn’t feel entirely awful, despite where he is and everything about himself.

He still wants to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s not like Connor actively tries to think about it. The opposite, in fact. As soon as thoughts about dating Evan pop up, he shoves them to the very back of his brain. He quarantines them away in the darkest corners, because thinking about it hurts.

Evan has made himself a constant in Connor’s life. But a temporary constant. Which is weird and annoying and tiring. Sometimes Connor’s emotions bubble up inside him and threaten to spill out and then Evan will give him this look when Connor pays him and everything just vanishes. Evan looks at Connor and all Connor’s thoughts shrink back and go ‘fuck never mind’.  

That doesn’t mean that he’s actually good about not thinking it. He’s getting worse, actually. It’s turning into a mild problem.

Evan can just look at Connor and Connor’s heart will flip and his mind will be consumed with ‘holy fuck I would date the shit out of him’.

He would. Connor has absolutely zoned out staring at Evan on multiple occasions. He keeps passing it off as being tired and honestly it’s a miracle that Evan hasn’t started asking about Connor’s sleep schedule— which is a disaster but isn’t why Connor keeps staring Evan.

Connor keeps staring at Evan because his brain is a fucking traitor and likes to think about what it would be like to kiss Evan.

Of all the boys to fall in love with, Connor had to go and fall in love with Evan Hansen.

Connor checks his phone under his desk. It’s been facedown on his desk — he’s making an attempt in calculus because he’s doing a really shit job right now and he has to pass because he literally cannot spend a day longer in this hellscape than he has to — but he can see the screen lighting up repeatedly.

From: Ev To: Connor      AR eyou in clasright no w      Of cours e youre in c alss where els e wi oudl you b      Im so ryrcan you g et out ?

Connor squints at the board. There are x’s and t’s and some other bullshit that he doesn’t understand. A lot of lines and marks.

Fuck.

He opens another conversation.

From: dickbag To: assface      you any good at calc?

Jared replies surprisingly fast. Actually, not so surprisingly. Connor is actually not surprised at all that Jared uses his phone in class.

From: assface To: dickbag      ive got a mean b in calc bc      y

Connor raises his hand and asks to go to the bathroom. The teacher waves him out the door and keeps teaching.

From: assface To: dickbag      i have to do something and i need to not fail      you willing to tell me what the fuck is happening?

From: Connor To: Ev      where are you? got out of class

Connor heads to the bathroom, because he’s already on the third floor and that’s where Evan was last time. And it’s the closest bathroom. His phone buzzes in his hand as he hurries through the hall and he tries not to groan when it’s just Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface      no promises but i can try      dont know y ur coming to me lmao      also i charge $10/hr

From: assface To: dickbag      fine but youre a dick

Connor pushes the bathroom door open. The lights are on, someone’s been in here in the past ten minutes, but the bathroom is empty. He drags his hand through his hair and catches a look at himself in the mirror.

Wow. He looks like shit.

Connor rubs his face and checks his phone again. It’s been buzzing, but it’s just been Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface      not news      whats so important that ur running out of class??      o shit drugs?      420 blaze it      i dont kno weed culture

As Connor scrolls through Jared’s messages, a text from Evan pops up on the top of his screen.

From: Ev To: Connor      J aanito s clostesecond follr

Connor runs into a wide eyed freshman as he hurries out of the bathroom and swings around a corner to get to the stairs. He only vaguely knows where that closet it, because he’s never had a reason to pay attention to it. Janitor’s closets are usually locked and it’s not like Connor is observant when it comes to his surroundings.

He skips the last few steps and just jumps down to the landing, slowing to a fast walk as he searches the hallway for the janitor’s closet. He finds it tucked into a corner between two classrooms. He glances up and down the hallway before he knocks softly. He tries the handle and knocks again before he pulls the door open.

“Evan?” he asks softly into the darkened closet. Light from the hallway spills into the darkness, barely brushing Evan’s shoes. Evan is huddled into the corner furthest away from the door, squished between shelves, on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms covering his head.

Connor stares for a minute, listening to Evan’s ragged breathing, before he steps into the closet. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and covers it with his hand before pulling the door closed. He lets some light slip through his fingers and finds a bottle of Windex on one of the shelves. He puts his phone under it and the room glows blue. Maybe life hacks aren’t always as shitty as they seem.

Connor sits down on the floor next to Evan. “Ev,” he whispers. “Can I help?”

Evan doesn’t look up. After a few seconds he stops holding on to his hair so tightly and holds a shaking hand out to Connor. Connor takes it. Almost immediately, Evan’s hand clenches around Connor’s, squeezing Connor’s fingers tightly. Connor moves over so the position is less awkward and lightly squeezes Evan’s hand back. 

Connor sits and waits, because he doesn’t really know what else to do. He watches Evan’s breathing and tries not to let his mind wander too much, because it’s too early in the day for any of that shit.

Evan loosens his grip on Connor’s hand and the tension seems to run out of his body. He sags against the wall and slowly lifts his head from his knees. He pulls his hand away. “S-sor-sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Connor says. His voice sounds weirdly rough. He clears it and stretches out his fingers.

Evan stares at them. “I— i-if I hurt your…your hand I didn’t mean to I just—”

“You didn’t,” Connor interrupts quickly. “See?” He wiggles his fingers. “Work just fine.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Do you…uh, want to talk about it?”

Evan makes a strangled sound. “N-nothing to… I mean there’s always—” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “D-dr. Sherman always says that— that there’s something? And I just don’t u-understand what so I’m…supposed to process it. But I just…”

“I think it’s a fucking lot to ask you to process shit right after a panic attack,” Connor says flatly.

Evan shrugs helplessly. “I don’t— I-I forget. I forget what I’m— what I feel in the moment a-and what I was thinking and then when she asks what was going through my mind I can’t tell her and then I feel worse and like a failure and I think I’m supposed to be getting better because I go to therapy and I take meds and—” Evan cuts himself off to take a deep breath. “It takes time,” Evan says softly. “It takes time. It takes time and it’ll get better it just—”

“Takes time?” Connor asks.

Evan smiles at him weakly. “Y-yeah.”

The bell rings, slightly muffled. Evan goes tense.

Connor thinks about his calculus teacher. She probably won’t be thrilled that he skipped out on the rest of class, but whatever. Maybe he’ll do homework for once and try to get back on her disinterested side.

“Your mom is working right now, isn’t she?” Connor asks slowly.

Evan nods. “Yeah, she’s a-always working. Pretty much.”

“We’ve still got three classes to get through.” Connor bumps their knees together. “Can you hide out in the nurse’s office or something? I’d say just leave, but…” Evan shakes his head. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t know shit about doing things the ‘right’ way.”

“I’ll…be okay,” Evan says.

Connor stares at him.

“It’s-it’s really fine,” Evan insists.

“Ev—”

“I’ve done it before, it’s not a big… I’ll just— it’s okay, really.”

“You aren’t taking the bus home today,” Connor says. He gets to his feet and takes the Windex off of his phone. “Light warning.” Evan covers his eyes. Connor flicks the light on and winces in the brightness before shutting off his flashlight. He slides his phone into his pocket and offers Evan his hand.

Evan takes it and lets Connor haul him to his feet. “Y-you don’t have to—”

“Fuck the bus,” Connor interrupts. “Zoe has a perfectly good car.”

Evan blinks. “Doesn’t she have rehearsal today?”

“How do you know my sister’s schedule better than I do?” Connor opens the door of the closet and peers out into the hallway. They have to be careful, because high school is fucking hell. Most people won’t give a shit and don’t pay attention to shit, but all it takes is one person assuming something. When no one is looking, he steps out of the closet and pulls Evan along, walking away from the closet quickly and melting into the thinning crowd. “So what if we have to wait for her to get out, just hang around with me for a little bit.”

As soon as Connor says it, his stomach twists. “I don’t have any today but—”

Evan stops walking, yanking Connor back a bit. They’re still holding hands. Connor pulls his away and puts his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“D-don’t,” Evan says.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re already— you’re doing me a favor by…by driving me home. So you don’t have to…” Evan gestures with his hands. “Debt paid. It’s— you’re fine.” Connor stares at him. “I— okay.”

Evan takes a step back. “I have to… I have class. I’ll see you after.” He spins on his heel and walks down the hallway, dodging other students before disappearing around a corner.

—«·»—

Connor drops into his seat in the back of AP Literature and puts his head down on his desk.

He needs to think about something — anything — other than Evan. Evan is supposed to be the one who thinks himself into an anxious spiral, not Connor. And Connor can’t help but feel like something is horribly wrong.

But, fuck, he wouldn’t stop their arrangement for anything. He’ll keep paying Evan to put up with him in the halls for as long as he possibly can, just to see Evan smile.

He wants to see Evan smile today. Anything other than the empty expression he had on his face when he walked away from Connor earlier.

Alana sits down next to Connor. Sometimes Connor forgets him and Alana talk now, even if it’s only because she’s Evan’s friend and probably thinks this is a good way to keep tabs on Evan. All she’s ever wanted from Connor is information, anyway.

Connor stares out the window at the icy field hockey field spread out in front of the school as the teacher starts the lesson. Something about the essay they have due in a few days at midnight.

Alana hands over her essay, printed and typed, five pages long double spaced and stapled in the corner. “It’s just a rough draft,” she says.

Connor blinks at the paper. “Uh…were we supposed to…”

She shakes her head. “No, we just needed to have an outline today.” She adjusts her glasses and opens a notebook. “But if you didn’t—”

“I did,” Connor says quickly. He actually did for once. “Here.” He pulls out his notebook and flips through pages and pages of shitty sketches to the section where he just stuffs any loose papers he’s handed. He pulls out the outline and smooths it out a little. “Don’t expect anything.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Alana says as she takes it from him.

Connor squints at her. “I did this while high so it’s either a brilliant disaster or just a fucking mess.”

Alana grins. “I hope it’s a brilliant disaster.”

“Probably not.”

She just shrugs and pulls out a pen, tapping it on her notebook as she skims over the outline. Connor turns to Alana’s essay and starts reading. Alana likes words and complex sentences. She’s good at backing up her points with evidence from the text, and doesn’t dance around her conclusions. She has a structure and logic to her essay that Connor’s never been able to achieve. He just sort of says words until he feels like he’s done.

He reads her fourth paragraph a few times, picking at his nail polish as he does so. He glances over to Alana and then reads it again.

She’s scribbling on his outline when he looks back to her. She meets his eyes. “Something wrong?”

Connor’s eyes flick from her to her essay. “Uh…no.”

Alana rolls her eyes and hands him her pen. “Fix it. Whatever it is. That’s the entire point of peer review.”

“I could be wrong—” Connor starts, but Alana holds up a hand to stop him.

“I’ll decide what to do with your feedback. Just do it.”

Connor nods slowly and hesitates with the pen hovering over the paper. “What are you doing, by the way?”

“Translating.”

“What?”

Alana pulls another pen from her backpack and uncaps it. “Your outline is good, you have some really good ideas in here, it’s just lost in the typos and grammar.”

“I can figure it out,” Connor says. “You don’t have to do that shit.”

Alana raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Connor blinks. “…not anymore?”

She nods firmly. “Exactly. You edit mine, I’ll edit yours. You won’t hurt my feelings, please, feel free to rip it to shreds.”

Connor exhales slowly. “Okay, Beck. Whatever.” He strikes out a sentence. “Whatever you say.”    

—«·»—

Connor meets Evan by Evan’s locker. They lock eyes and for a second everything feels weird. And then Jared shows up.

Connor has never been relieved to see Jared Kleinman before.

“What’s up?” Jared asks, clapping a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “My…main bros.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, crossing that off the list.” Jared gives Evan a look and Evan shrugs. Connor looks between them and shifts his weight to his other foot. “Anyway, you free on Saturday?” he asks Evan.

Evan blinks. “Y-yes?”

“My moms wanted you over for dinner. They’re going to try to harass Heidi into coming too but,” Jared shrugs, “we know how that is.”

Evan smiles and ducks his head. “I-I mean— yeah that’d be…that’d be nice. Um, I can…ask my mom?”

“Nice.” Jared holds his fist out for a fist bump. Evan rolls his eyes and knocks their knuckles together. “Okay, text me, cause if she’s working, I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

Evan nods. “O-okay, I will.”

“Sweet, got to dash or I’ll never get out of here.” Jared shoots finger guns at Connor. “See, ya Murph,” he says before sprinting down the hallway.

Connor lifts a hand to wave goodbye as jealousy twists in his stomach. It makes him feel gross. He swallows it and turns to Evan. “So, uh…we can probably hide in a practice room until Zoe’s done.”

Evan pulls on the straps of his backpack. “A-are they, um, open? Because I know, I mean I’ve heard because sometimes the band kids in my classes complain about this, that they lock? Or get locked? So…”

“We can…check?” Connor suggests.

Evan nods. “That’s…probably a good idea.”

Connor leads Evan down to the music wing. The first two practice rooms are locked, but the third that they try is unlocked. Connor raises his eyebrows at Evan and pushes the door open. The lights flicker on automatically and Evan closes the door behind them.

All four of the practice rooms are the same in Connor’s experience, a keyboard and bench, a trash, and maybe a stand or chair that someone has dragged in. Except one, that for some reason, has two pianos. They lucked out and that is exactly the room they’re in. Less room, but it doesn’t really matter.

Evan puts his bag down on one of the piano benches and then sits on the floor in the space between the end of the piano and the wall.

Connor coughs. “Uh…are you…okay?” He winces. Yikes.

“Tired,” Evan says softly.

Connor glances to the light switch before pressing the button to turn off the lights. There’s still a decent amount of light from the window in the door, but it’s darker. Connor puts down his bag and joins Evan on the floor. Evan looks up at him.

“Take a nap,” Connor suggests.

Evan blinks at him.

Connor sighs. “Scoot over.”

Evan moves so he’s as close to the piano as he can get. Connor squeezes into the space between Evan and the wall. There’s way more space in these practice rooms than it seems, the pianos make them look small.

Connor pulls on the sleeve of Evan’s sweatshirt. “Just lean on me. More comfortable than the wall, probably, though I’m basically all bone.”

“Y-you sure?”

Connor rolls his eyes because it feels right. “I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t. Close your eyes, Ev.”

“Okay,” Evan whispers. He rests his head on Connor’s shoulder. “Wake me up if your arm falls asleep.”

“Sure,” Connor lies.

A few minutes later, Evan’s breathing starts to even out. When Connor is sure that he’s asleep, he carefully pulls his phone out of his pocket.

From: C To: Z      waiting in practice room c      evans napping so dont come in just knock or some shit

Once he’s sent the texts, he puts his phone down and turns his attention back to Evan. Connor turns his head to look down at Evan, and when his nose brushes Evan’s hair, his heart goes into double time.

Fuck.

—«·»—

Connor thinks he’s drifted off when Zoe finally knocks on the door. He inhales sharply and sits up straighter, eyes wide. He leans forward to see Zoe standing in front of the door with her guitar on her back and her saxophone in hand.

He leans back and sighs. Okay.

Connor shakes Evan’s shoulder. “Ev, Ev wake up. Zoe’s done.”

Evan groans and blinks blearily. “Huh?”

Connor’s breath catches in his throat. He finds himself lost in Evan’s sleepy eyes for a moment too long and hopes Evan’s still too asleep to notice. “Zoe,” he says. “We can go home now.”

“Oh.” Evan pulls himself to his feet using the piano. About halfway up, he grabs Connor’s arm and pulls Connor up as well.

They grab their bags and open the door.

“Sleep well?” Zoe asks with a smirk.

Connor flips her off behind Evan.

Evan shrugs. “I-it was the floor.”

Connor takes Zoe’s saxophone from her. “Let’s go. I have an essay to write.”

Zoe blinks. “You do?”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

The parking lot is blissfully empty when they step outside. The air is bitter and cold, and Connor wishes that it would just snow more than half an inch so the burning cold is worth it. He grabs Evan’s arm when Evan slips on ice and Zoe makes an offhanded comment about driving and black ice.

“You know?” she says to Evan.

Evan blinks. “N-no, I don’t— I don’t drive?”

Zoe frowns. “Do you take the bus?”

Evan turns pink, and Connor wonders if he’s redder because of the cold or not. “Yeah, it’s…yeah.”

Zoe looks to Connor.

“What?” Connor asks.

“What time does the bus pick you up?” Zoe asks.

“Uh…” Evan slows his walk. “I— around like…6:35?”

Zoe purses her lips. “Okay. Monday? We can swing by and pick you up.” She twirls her car keys around her finger. “Unless you hate my music choices as much as Connor does.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Evan says quickly.

“Too late,” Zoe sing songs. She unlocks the car and pops the trunk open. She puts her guitar in and then takes her saxophone from Connor. “We’d be happy to, right Connor?”

“Duh,” Connor says. “The bus is bullshit.”

“Good for the environment,” Evan says. “P-public transport!”

“We’re already using this car.” Zoe slams the trunk shut. “So it doesn’t actually matter. No additional cars on the road, just one less Evan the a bus.”

“Uh…”

“Sleep on it.” She rubs her arms. “Let’s go before I freeze.” She glances to Connor as she moves to the driver’s side. “How are you alive?”

Connor shrugs and pulls open the car door. He slides into the backseat next to Evan. “Can’t feel cold if you’re dead inside.”

Zoe twists around in her seat to glare at him before shutting the door. She turns on the car, blasts the heat even though it’s just air at the moment, and plugs her phone in. “Today we’re listening to Billy Joel,” she announces. “Get over it Connor.”

Connor just leans his forehead against the cold window as Uptown Girl plays from the speakers.

Zoe asks for directions a few times, but for the most part, they drive in silence aside from the Billy Joel in the slowly warming car.

Connor sits up when they arrive at Evan’s. “I’ll text you,” he says.

Evan gives him a smile. “Y-yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“I’ll see you Monday at 6:40!” Zoe calls out before he shuts the door. She turns to look at Connor. “You moving up?”

“I guess.” Connor unbuckles and climbs over the center consul to get into the passenger seat. He buckles back in and Zoe backs out of the driveway.

“So…” she says slowly. “You and Evan.”

“What about us?” Connor asks flatly.

Zoe glances to him. “Anything…up?”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“No, but I can’t stop you from doing shit.”

“The sky.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Great, now that that’s out of the way—”

“Nothing,” Connor interrupts. “Can’t two people be friends?”

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Zoe taps on the steering wheel. “You just seem like more than that.”

Connor scoffs. More like barely that. “We aren’t.”

“Do you want to be?”

Connor stares at the road. “The light is green.”

Connor spends most of his Saturday writing his paper. Because Alana had written all over his outline and now he feels obligated to make something half decent out of the genius she turned his bullshit into. Also, she shared her essay with him on google docs the night before for him to edit — he does not know why the fuck she did that and hates the fact that school emails are standardized so she didn’t even have to ask for his email — and offered to edit his in return. He’s not going to give up that opportunity. He’s doing fine in english but another solid essay grade can get his parents to calm down for at least a day.

He texts Evan and draws when he’s not writing. The other weekend, Cynthia dragged him off to the store with her, so he threw a cheap set of kids’ watercolors in the cart. And a box of Capri sun. He sits on his floor and drinks a Capri sun while he waits for a painting to dry. Evan is making lunch right now, so it’ll be a few minutes before he responds. Evan doesn’t usually text Connor while he’s making food, apparently the risk of fire is higher than normal, and that’s not just Evan’s anxiety talking.

Evan had texted him the night before thanking him for the ride home. Connor had replied ‘what are friends for’ and then threw his phone across the room so he didn’t have to read Evan’s response. It didn’t end up mattering, because Evan’s next text wasn’t sent until this morning, and it was a frantic apology because he fell asleep before responding.

Connor just said it was fine and changed the subject as fast as he could.

Connor sighs and gets to his feet. As he waits for the painting to dry, he’s really fucking impatient, he takes pictures of some of his least shitty doodles from class and posts them on a randomass tumblr he made after Evan suggested posting his art online. Mostly Connor did it out of curiosity, he didn’t really use the site otherwise, just posts drawings and then vanishes for a few days, but it’s also good because it means he has somewhere where all his art was stored digitally. He might’ve accidentally spilt a mug of coffee all over a notebook the other day. And he distinctly remembers setting a few sketchbooks on fire back in middle school.

From: Ev To: Connor      Back ! ANd I didnt evne burn anything

Connor smiles to himself and leans against his bed.

From: Connor To: Ev      congrats you now have the cooking skills of a 12 year old

From: Ev To: Connor      :((

Connor hesitates before typing out his next message. He really shouldn’t ask — it’s a fucking terrible idea on so many levels — but it’s been slowly eating away at him. Which doesn’t make sense. But whatever.

From: Connor To: Ev      doesnt matter though i mean youre having dinner tonight wth jared right??

He puts his phone on his desk and goes back to painting and tries not to think about it for a few minutes. It’s not fair of him to get jealous. Because Jared is trying to get better. He’s still a dick but there’s an attempt there.

Connor hasn’t changed anything.

He sits on the floor and works on the painting. Now that he has slightly less shitty watercolors, they’re still pretty garbage but they aren’t old and mostly gone, he uses way too much purple again.

Whatever.

He doesn’t check his phone again until he has to wait for more paint to dry. He’s tempted to grab a sketchbook and keep ignoring it, but that’s not fair to Evan.

From: Ev To: Connor      Oh  y eah      We used to ha ve dinner a lot togethe r when ew wer elittle      All oru moms were friends      Kinda weird that were doing it again but… NIce?? Hopefull y ?      My mom s ocming which is nice      She hasnt been home ofr a few nights so yeah

Connor takes a slow breath before replying.

From: Connor To: Ev      thats pretty cool      i hope its fun and the food doesnt suck

Evan replies almost immediately, even though Connor took almost twenty minutes to respond.

From: Ev To: Connor      Thnk you!!!      Jareds moms are really good cook sso itll be good I think      I hope dinner goes ok for you tonight !! Good luck :)

Connor stares at the smiley face and falls on his bed with a groan.

—«·»—

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Evan lately,” Larry says, pushing quino around his plate.

Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. They never really talked about that. Sometimes, when Zoe goes over a friend’s house or has a friend over, Connor will give Larry a very pointed look and Larry will find something on his phone fascinating. An amazing double standard.

And, like? Of course he spends time with Evan. They’re best friends— pretending to be best friends. Connor doesn’t know how to get that through Larry’s thick skull.

Evan is Connor’s best friend.

“Well yeah,” Connor says, stabbing a piece of kale with his fork. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Wait, shit— 

Zoe chokes on her drink.

“What?!” Larry practically shouts, silverware hitting the table.

Connor opens his mouth to explain that technically, no, they aren’t boyfriends, though they are friends who are boys, even if sometimes Evan looks at him and makes Connor feel like he’s turning to putty. But they aren’t actually—

He glances to his mom with wide eyes. “Mom? Are you okay?”

Cynthia smiles, eyes watering. “I’m just so happy for you, sweetie!”

Connor slowly looks around the table. His mother crying tears of joy, his father staring at him in shock, his sister trying to bite back a smile.

Connor needs to talk to Evan immediately.

They’re fucked.

—«·»—

Connor grabs Zoe’s before she can disappear into her bedroom. She stiffens and he pulls his hand away. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” She crosses her arms. “I thought you told me nothing was going on between you and Evan.” She raises her eyebrows.

Connor grimaces. “I— don’t tell Evan.”

Zoe tilts her head. “Don’t tell Evan…you’re dating?”

Fuck. “No, no, fuck.” Connor frantically searches his mind. “I, uh, we weren’t going to…tell people? Yet? And I…fucked that up. So don’t— don’t mention it to him until like he says something or whatever, okay?”

Zoe mimes zipping her lips. “Secret’s safe with me. But also, I fucking knew it.”

Connor forces a laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. You did.”

Zoe goes back into her room and Connor grabs his phone and goes down to the basement. He wonders if he can get his door back for Hanukkah, but for now, this is the only private place he’s got. He would lock himself in the bathroom, but that’s still way too close to the rest of his family members for comfort.

He flicks on the light as he heads down the stairs and grabs a blanket off the back of one of the chairs. The basement is about half finished and has been since Connor was in middle school. One of those projects that Larry never got around to finishing. Now they mostly use it for storage and hanging out when it gets too hot in the summer and even central air isn’t working well enough. Him and Zoe used to camp out for weeks in the basement on air mattresses and stay up way past their bedtimes giggling.

Now it’s December. He hasn’t been down here since he punched the far wall when everyone else was asleep. Him and Zoe haven’t spent time together in here in years. They haven’t done much together in years.

Connor wraps himself in a blanket and sits down in one of the old oversized chairs. They’re only down here because the went out of style and were deemed unworthy for the living room.

He unlocks his phone, scrolls through his contacts, and presses call. Then he listens to the phone ring and hopes that they’re done with dinner at the Kleinmans’ while he waits for the call to be answered.

“Hello?”

Connor grits his teeth. “Hi. I…might need help.”

“Is it about Evan?”

Connor frowns. “Why do you assume it’s about Evan?” It is but—

Jared laughs. “Dude, we aren’t friends. The only reason you talk to me is because of Evan. What’s up?”

Connor blinks. He’s just gotten so used to having Jared constantly around that it’s like they’re basically friends. But not. Because Connor doesn’t have any real friends.  

“I,” Connor clears his throat, “my family now thinks Evan and I are dating.”

There’s a long pause. Connor waits for Jared to start cackling, but Jared just whispers, “Holy shit.”

“Say whatever shit you want to now,” Connor mutters. “Get it out.”

“Holy shit,” Jared repeats. Connor rolls his eyes. “Murphy, what the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up.”

“What are you going to do?” Jared sounds almost amazed.

Connor frowns at the phone. This is not how he thought this conversation would go. “Pay Evan two hundred dollars? I know you meant that as a joke but—”

“Fucking shit, my dude. What the hell!”

Connor drags his hand through his hair. “Kleinman, my mom started crying when I said Evan was my boyfriend, okay? I can’t— fuck. I don’t know.”

Jared whistles.

Connor picks at his nailpolish. “Would Evan…go along with it? Do you think?”  

“I think that’s a question for Evan.”

“I’m asking you.”

Jared snorts. “Okay, fine. I think he’ll go along with it.” It almost feels like Jared is going to say something more, but he doesn’t. “You got two hundred bucks lying around?”

“No,” Connor admits. He has an idea. It’s a terrible idea that could backfire, but it’s an idea.

“So…how are you going to get it?” Jared gasps. “Oh shit! Are we going to rob a bank?”

Connor frowns. “No? Why is that the first thing you came up with? Why would you rob a bank for two hundred dollars? Wouldn’t fucking…normal robbery be easier?”

“Fuck off. Are we doing that?”

“No.”

“Well we both know you’re not getting a job—”

“Fuck you.”

“—and that would probably take too long. Are we going to sell weed?”

“What? No,” Connor says. “Also how long did you restrain yourself before asking that?”

“Too long for that boring answer and reaction,” Jared admits. “Give me something to work with, stoner kid. We could just steal it. I know you said no, but—”

“Jared what the fuck,” Connor interrupts.

“Dude, you aren’t offering any ideas here, I’m just trying to help out.”

Connor rubs the bridge of his nose. “Fucking— do you know how PayPal works?”

“Yeah sure,” Jared says. “Super easy, why?”

Connor sighs. “Would you be willing to help me set one up?”

“Ten bucks.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah sure, you wanted some help on calc anyway. Do you have info on your bank account, by the way?”

“I…can find it,” Connor says slowly. “Does tomorrow work? My house?”

“Yeah sure, my man. Shoot me an address and a time. I expect snacks.”

 Jared shows up on the doorstep ten minutes earlier than Connor expected with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a Starbucks drink in his left hand. “Sup.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re early.”

“Fashionably.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Whatever.”  

Zoe leans out of the dining room. “Who’s here?”

Connor steps aside to let Jared in. Jared waves at Zoe.

Zoe squints. “What are you doing here?”

“So nice to see you again too, Smaller Murphy,” Jared says. He kicks his shoes off and puts them next to Zoe’s converse.

“Calc,” Connor says. “I’m…not doing great.”

“But you aren’t failing yet,” Jared says. “So we’re just going to keep you from not doing that. What are you learning again?”

Connor shrugs. “Something implicit. I’ll show you the homework.”

Jared nods. “Chill, chill.”

“Aren’t you friends with Alana?” Zoe asks.

“I…guess?” Connor frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“She’s the valedictorian, isn’t she? Why didn’t you ask her for help?”

“Uh…” Connor looks to Jared.

Jared takes a sip of his drink. “I’m genuinely offended, by the way. I’m no Alana Beck but I am passing AP Calc BC, which is more than you can say for seventy percent of our class. Don’t take it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Zoe assures him. “Just didn’t tutoring was your…thing.”

“Alana tutors,” Jared says.

“I know, that’s my point.”

“Ha ha very funny. She tutors a lot of people so it makes sense that I take someone off her workload.” Jared points to Connor. “As her friend, Connor understands.”

“Right.” Connor nods. “That.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t judging you or anything I was just wondering. Have fun. Don’t set the house on fire, I’m going over Pippa’s to work on our history project, and Mom and Dad are out shopping or something.”

“I’ll keep Jared away from anything breakable,” Connor promises.

“I remind you I’m doing you a favor,” Jared says.

“You’re making me pay you.”

“Shit you’re right.”

—«·»—

“This is easy shit,” Jared says, looking up from Connor’s textbooks. “Really easy.”

Connor flips him off.

“I’ll explain it!” Jared promises. “This makes my job easier, probably. So back to real reason I’m here—”

“You are here to help me with math.” Connor reaches for his laptop. “I’m going to open commissions.”

Jared stares at him with a blank expression.

“Commissions,” Connor repeats slowly.

Jared blinks. “Since when do you draw?”

“Do you actually know anything about me?” Connor asks.

Jared looks away. “Valid. How can I help?”

“Mostly just need help with PayPal. And maybe wording the post? I don’t know shit about talking to people.” Connor opens his laptop and logs in. He closes a few tabs and opens up tumblr. He hesitates and then opens his blog. “Here.”

“Your theme is awful,” Jared says flatly.

“Did I ask you?”

“Didn’t have to.” Jared clicks a few times. “Dude, if you want to be selling your art, you need a theme that isn’t painful to look at.” Connor opens his mouth to protest, but Jared holds up a hand. “I’m doing you a favor here. Give me like ten minutes. I will change your world.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Jared pushes away in the desk chair. “Too late, I’m not helping if we don’t change this ugly ass theme. Doodle or something while I do this. Make a commissions banner, I don’t fucking know.” Jared hunches over the laptop and starts typing.

Connor stares at him. Hopefully Jared isn’t going to charge him for this too.

Forty minutes later, Connor is putting aside a random drawing and Jared is looking up from the laptop.

“Bam, motherfucker,” Jared announces spinning the laptop around. “A picture heavy theme with easy navigation, readable text, and colors that don’t make me want to stab my eyes out.” Connor leans forward to see it. It actually looks pretty decent. And pretty professional. Jared has also added a few links, including one to Connor’s still nonexistent PayPal and a commissions page. “By the way, your art is pretty rad.”

Connor blinks. “Thanks. Did you want that bank account information?”

“Yeah sure.”

Connor gets up from the floor. “Let’s break into my dad’s office.”

Jared sets aside the laptop. “Sweet.”

—«·»—

Connor sits down in the chair in Larry’s office. He pulls open one of the lower drawers in the desk and flips through the the hanging folders until he finds one with his name.

“Don’t steal my identity or anything,” he says to Jared as he hands him one of the folders. “But see if anything in there is what you need.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jared starts flipping through the papers. “Your identity is too lame to steal.”

“Thanks.”

Connor skims over various forms and papers with his name all over them. So weird that he’s attached to all of these things but doesn’t understand any of them. That might be concerning. Is he supposed to know what these mean? He squints at something that looks like it has something to do with money.

“I can’t believe you’re going through with this,” Jared mutters.

Connor looks up. “With?”

“This fake dating shit.” Jared puts a stack of papers down on the desk. “I thought this was convoluted before.”

“You helped.”

“So you two keep reminding me.” Jared flips a piece of paper over. “I think this is it.”

“Cool.” Connor puts his folder away and Jared puts Connor’s laptop on the desk. Connor fills out what he can and Jared helps with the rest.

“And you have a PayPal,” Jared announces, finishing the form. “If you click this you can transfer money to your bank account, which is how you’ll get the money off the internet and into Evan’s hands.”

Connor nods. “Makes sense.” He grabs the papers and puts them back into the folder. He puts it back in the bottom drawer and makes sure everything is just how Larry left it before he gets up from the chair.

“I genuinely didn’t think either of you would get invested in this shit,” Jared says as they stop in the kitchen to grab a bag of chips.

Connor shrugged. “I fucked up, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Jared gives him a flat look before biting into a chip. “Let’s just finish this shit so I can teach you how implicit differentiation works.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Fine.”

They bring the bag of chips up to Connor’s bedroom and sit on the floor with Connor’s laptop in front of them. Between handfuls of chips, Jared sentences to the post.

“We can’t call it ‘I’m Gay Give Me Money’,” Connor protests.

“Why not?” Jared asks. “It’s tumblr.”

“What’s your point?”

Jared pulls the laptop closer and starts typing. “We just say like… ‘I’m trying to meet my boyfriend’, we stay vague on the details no one wants to know the complexity of this shit and also it’s weird as fuck, ‘so I’m opening commissions’. Blah blah blah here are details…” Jared looks up at Connor. “Any suggestions for prices?”

Connor shrugs.

“You are the least helpful person,” Jared mutters. “Okay…going on what I saw on your blog…” He types rapidly for a few minutes. “And posted.”

“What?!” Connor grabs the laptop from Jared. “Why did you do that?!”

“You weren’t going to have anything to say so fuck it, it’s posted.” Jared pops another chip in his mouth. “Chill the fuck out.”

Connor reloads the page to check the post. He doesn’t have any idea if the prices are reasonable, but Jared put up Connor’s email and a link to his PayPal and tagged the post with a few tags that make sense and a few that don’t.

Connor groans. “If you fucked this up for me—”

“I didn’t,” Jared says. “I am doing you so many solids right now. And now I’m about to try to teach you calculus. I am literally a god.”  

Connor resists the urge to slam his head against the keyboard.  

#connor murphy #evan hansen #convan #tree bros #deh fanfic #my fics #to have a friend #hi im dy ign

[danisnotofire]

hey im going to orientation in a few days and im rly nervous abt starting college, i was just wondering if you had any tips or any ~advice~ bc im like, lowkey freaking out ((also i also stage manage and i love musicals and astronomy (sry i was snooping around your about page)))

hey!!! ok i am so so so sorry this took so long lol i actually just went back to school myself to help out with a pre-orientation program and we’ve been having like 17 hour days so i’m Exhausted and haven’t had a lot of time to really give a thoughtful answer (UNTIL NOW). some of this is gonna sound cheesy, but this is Emma Danisnotofire’s Official Real List of Pro-Tips for College, so if it’s on here it’s true. that being said, i go to a medium/small school (4,000 students) in the middle of fucking nowhere, so some of my experiences are gonna be a lil different. most still apply. 

first off, it’s TOTALLY OKAY that you’re nervous. i know when i went i was highkey freaking out even more bc everybody else seemed to be just excited and i felt like i was the only one actually losing my mind from how scared i was. i didn’t sleep at all the night before i moved in. being scared is fine. you’ll probably be scared for awhile after you get there, too, and that’s absolutely okay. i remember it took me a solid few weeks for me to stop feeling nauseous from nerves whenever i woke up. i promise i promise this will go away. you will settle in and you’ll make friends and you’ll figure out where everything is and how things work, i PROMISE. 

second, once you get there, don’t be afraid to talk to people!! i know that sounds super cheesy and unhelpful, but seriously. talk to your orientation leaders!! they’re usually upperclassmen and 99% of the time they had to APPLY to get that position, and it’s because they’re so so excited to meet you!! i’m a mentor for this pre-o program (it’s arts-focused), and we all had to apply, and every single other mentor is super passionate not only about the arts but about making sure the incoming freshman feel comfortable and happy and at home right off the bat. we want to like you!! talk to us!!! talk to each other!! at my school, (bucknell), orientation is actually pretty fucking legendary (it’s 5 straight days of just. nonstop activities), so getting to know your group is always nice. good conversation starters include: compliment something they’re wearing/have done, mention pets, ask about what classes they’re taking. that’s usually where i start when i’m talking to my kids!! 

okay, now for some Actual Tangible Advice. most of this is actually taken from when i gave my friend natalie some advice about college, but it’s still applicable to you!! i’m putting it under a readmore bc It’s So Very Long, I’m Sorry, I Really Hope This Helps/Makes Up For Me Not Answering For So Long

-if you can, get a microwave. if you can’t, it’s nbd because there’s probably one in your dorm somewhere. but it’s really nice not to have to put on shoes/socks to go make ramen at 3am

-INVEST IN GOOD SOCKS!!!! srsly omg you’re never gonna wanna go anywhere barefoot, and dorm heating/cooling can be tricky. i treated myself to a 5-pair box where they’re all different classic art pieces. they’re GORGEOUS and super nice for when i can’t find my flip-flops.

-also, if you have birks. bring them. they are also good for sliding on when u really have to pee in the middle of the night and can’t for the life of u find anything else. also everyone i know wears birks casually (i have a 20 dollar pair of fake ones from american eagle lol)

-OLD NAVY HAS FLIP FLOPS 2 FOR 5 DOLLARS. they make the BEST shower shoes and also they come in so many lit colors they’re the bomb digs. these are also good if you don’t have a pair of birks

-if your dorm doesn’t have it already (most dorms don’t) BUY A SCREEN FOR YOUR WINDOW!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY if u hate bugs you do NOT want them coming in when all u want is some fresh air. my roommate last year brought one to school bc i didn’t even think about it and it was a LIFESAVER.

-if you can, get one of those febreeze scent things you plug in. if you aren’t allowed, there’s this thing called a scentsy that basically melts wax and it makes your room smell SO. GOOD. idk how much they cost but honestly you will be thankful you have it if you can get it (candles work too but most dorms don’t allow candles)  

-you don’t need a huge plastic shower caddy!! you can get a softer one and then hang it on a hook outside the shower or loop it around the shower knob. they’re probs better than a big hard one bc they won’t fill up with water and you can stash it easier. (i went with a big plastic one and it’s a hassle lol). however, if you already got a big plastic one, that’s cool too bc sometimes they come with a removable second smaller caddy, and that’s good for putting your phone in outside of the shower to play music.

-lofting your bed is super nice bc it gives you a little more privacy from your roommate (and privacy is so so so rare in college, esp in a dorm). it’s also nice bc if you’re up there and a friend walks into your room (which is bound to happen with dorm living, which is where i’m assuming ur living as a first-year) they won’t immediately see you, which gives you a few seconds to get ur shit together before they see you.

-HOWEVER!! there are a few downsides to lofting ur bed. the major one is that it’s a pain in the ass to not only get up there, but also to lug your laptop/charger/snacks/etc up there, and once you’re up u probably aren’t gonna wanna come down. also, i don’t know if you drink, (which btw totally cool if you don’t!!), but there was definitely one time where i was too drunk to climb into my bed (i know, i know, several bad choices were made that night and i regret all of them), but thankfully my roommate last year was a fucking goddess though (a definite Mom Friend) and pulled all my sleeping stuff down to the floor lol. it’s rare that something like that happens, but it’s definitely something u wanna take into consideration.

-college is infinitely emotionally taxing. face masks and shower bath-bombs (you put them on the floor of your shower and they slowly dissolve and release whatever scent they are) do LOADS to make u feel better. face masks are also good bonding with friends!! 

-some other self-care college tips: cafes will usually have either hot apple cider in the fall, or you can get steamed milk with vanilla in it and it’s very soothing and gentle and calming. i got it a lot when i was sick just bc it was warm and not difficult to stomach. 

-also baking. if you get a few friends and bake something, it is 1) bound to be hilarious and 2) everyone who walks by will love you. we once made cinnamon buns, except instead of individual ones we made one big disgusting MegaBon, and we still talk about it to this day. it’s the name of our group chat lmaooo

-you can literally never have too much storage. plastic bins, crates, etc. never too much.

-you will leave college with so much more stuff than what you came with. holy shit. you will also get so many t-shirts??? see above. you’ll need storage.

-college is also the definition of ‘Everything is Happening All The Time’, and ur probably gonna make friends who try and do Everything. it took me super long to internalize the fact that it’s okay to like, say no to doing something and take a nap instead. not all the time, sometimes its good to force urself out of your room, but you can stay in on a saturday every once in a while! it doesn’t matter. 

-that being said, do try and go out of your comfort zone a little!! i was definitely not the type to do this in high school, but these days i’ll sometimes go to frat parties!! they’re actually really fun when you go with friends (and always go with friends!!!). it doesn’t even necessarily need to be parties either. audition for a capella. stage manage a show. do a club sport. there’s so much you can do!! (i actually didn’t follow my own advice here last year, i was too terrified to do a lot of things. i did theatre though, which ended up taking up most of my time anyway, but i still wish i had done more, hence why i’m doing this program right now! don’t be like first-year me. be better!)

-HOWEVER here are some (frat) party tips: girls can usually get into parties much easier than guys can, but either way don’t try to go out until around october/late september. the first few weeks back are for upperclassmen catching up with friends . go with a group, and STAY with your group. please. no girl left behind. they usually only serve shitty beer, and ofc you should keep your eyes on it the whole time. if you put it down, just go get another one instead of picking that one up again. also, invest in a shitty coat/gross pair of shoes specifically to wear to the frats. the floors are gross, and you’re probs gonna end up storing your jacket behind a trash can in the winter bc it’s too fucking hot inside the room to keep it on. (is this coat thing just a bucknell thing?? this might just be a bucknell thing). 

-more drinking/etc/stuff: know your rights. RAs are not allowed to look through drawers/open closets when doing room searches, so if you have wine or anything, make sure it’s hidden in somewhere they’re not allowed to touch.

-THIS IS SUPER IMPORTANT: if someone has drank too much, BACKPACK THEM. get them into bed while wearing a filled up backpack. it prevents people from rolling over and choking on their vomit. i cannot emphasize how important it is for you to backpack someone. if you can, stay with them to make sure they’re okay. also, don’t be afraid to let them throw up before they go to bed. it helps. they’ll usually feel better. 

-if you can, get a job that lets you sit down. receptionist, librarian, etc. these are the best, bc sometimes you’ll get the  chance to study or get paid for doing nothing. also? receptionist looks SUPER good on a resume. also? money is nice.

-LOCK YOUR DOOR!!!!! I LEARNED THIS THE HARD WAY WHEN SOME WEIRD SENIOR BOY WALKED INTO MY ROOM DRUNK AT 3AM AND WOULDN’T LEAVE. also, you’ll make friends in the first week that you won’t necessarily want to be friends with later on, but they won’t get that message lol. again, lock your door (learned that the hard way, too)

-for future semesters, if you can’t get into a class right away it REALLY helps to email the professor!!! seriously, 9 times out of 10 they are more than happy to let an extra person in, because there are always students who drop the class within the first week or two. that’s how i got into astronomy my first semester, and i’m now a teacher’s assistant for it. so. really, it helps.

-the best way to be better friends with people is to just, get meals with them. honestly. make a group chat with some people and whenever ur getting dinner or lunch or whatever just throw out a ‘hey anyone wanna get food with me??’ text. 90% of the time someone will come with you.

-speaking of meals tho, ik this is the number 1 thing people tend to say, but it’s tRUE. nobody cares if you eat alone. it too me SO LONG to internalize this, but it’s totally fine to do!! it’s actually really nice sometimes, you can bring homework or your laptop and get some work done. it’s not even with meals, either! you can study alone! you can walk places alone! you can go to the gym alone! i was always terrified of being seen alone bc i thought people were gonna think i didn’t have friends or w/e dumb thing my anxiety had me feeling, (i still struggle with that lmao) but in reality you just look independent and cool!!! also, it helps to be content in the fact that you have friends and it doesn’t matter if people THINK you don’t.

-get a reusable water bottle. i got a plastic one for like 12 bucks, and i use it DAILY. if ur walking a lot, it helps keep you hydrated. also, it gives you something to do in class. also, you can personalize it with stickers and stuff (you can do the same with a laptop case). i p much take mine with me EVERYWHERE.

-this was also hard for me to internalize, but u gotta remember the fact that it’s okay not to be who u were in high school. like, i gave up some of the things i was into in high school in favor of some other things, and it took me awhile to figure out that i wasn’t like, betraying anyone, if that makes sense?? like, i started going to frat parties and actually having FUN at them??? (something i NEVER would have been into in high school, but here we are).

-also, grades are very different in college. i freaked out when i wasn’t getting a 4.0, because that’s who i was in high school, but then i kinda put it in perspective. i ended with a 3.67, which is still dean’s list. you’re not going to be perfect, bc chances are you ended up at a school with people on kinda equal intelligence levels as you. don’t freak out. 

okay that’s pretty much it!!! i can def come up with more stuff tailored to certain things/etc if you want me to talk more about this stuff!!! i love giving college advice and talking and helping people feel better about this whole thing bc i know it’s hard and scary

#college advice #college #university #advice #pro tips #Anonymous #im so sorry if ur on mobile and the readmore doesn't work #hopefully this makes up for me disappearing for a few days #alright now back to the void #goodniiiight

[thatoneidioticrainbow]

Dating Peter Parker would include

·      Being best friends with him since the first day of freshman year of high school

  You were super nervous all day

·      It was a new school and a new town, so you didn’t know anyone

·      You were about to cry at lunch because you had nowhere to sit

·      But then you see a table at the far end of the lunch room with only two boys and a girl who was farther away from the boys

·      So you decide to sit with the loners

·      The second you place your tray a few feet away from the boys, Ned hits Peter’s arm

·      “New kid.” He says, and Peter is immediately swooning

·      He thinks you’re so cute and he’s so surprised a pretty girl is sitting with them

·      “Keep your voice low” peter says to Ned

·      “Hey, I like your shirt” Ned says immediately after Peter

·      You look up and smile, and Peter dies

·      You’re like the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and Ned can practically see the hearts in his eyes

·      You catch your breath bc holy shit the chestnut haired one is gorgeous

·      “Thank you!” you forced out of your throat

·      Ned starts the conversation, and you pull your tray to sit right in front of them

·      You exchange phone numbers and boom your all best friends

·      At first you’re really nervous around Peter

·      And Ned has to do a lot of convincing in order for him to hang out with you bc he’s so scared of making a fool of himself

·      “Pete, you’re a fool anyway, with or without Y/n.”

·      “Oh, thank you, Ned.”

·      But after you realize you have so many things in common, your nervousness melts away and Ned can barely keep the two of you apart

·      Going over to Peter’s apartment almost everyday

·      Peter face timing you all.the.time

·      Like during the worst moments

·      “Peter I’m doing homework” “Perfect! Me too! What’d you get for number seven?”

·      “Peter, I’m watching a movie.” “Flip the camera around, I wanna watch too.”

·      “Peter I’m on the toilet” “Gross.”

·      Playfully insulting him, resulting in him not speaking to you for about ten minutes

·      Until your mom comes in your room to tell you what’s for dinner

·      “Heyheyhey I wanna come”

·      “I thought we weren’t on speaking terms, Parker”

·      Your mom inviting him over anyway

·      Watching Cody Ko together

·      That’s your thing

·      You’re not allowed to watch a new episode of that’s cringe without one another

·      So whenever a new episode comes out you’re the first one to call

·      “Peter Cody posted another that’s cringe episode, get your ass over here”

·      Him running into your room in less than ten minutes

·      When he got that internship at the Stark Tower he was really distant

·      He wasn’t inviting you and Ned over as much, and was constantly ditching plans

·      It left you really sad bc you really missed him

·      But you were also really happy that he was happy

·      Not really understanding why an internship is leaving him tired and unavailable every second of every day

·      Trying to talk to him about it but he just brushes it off

·      Ned running up to you and Peter in the hallway one day looking way too excited

·      “I got it!!” he practically screams

·      “Got what?” you asked

·      Peter and Ned fangirling even though you have no idea what he’s talking about

·      “The Millennium Falcon lego set!” Peter exclaims

·      “It has over three-thousand pieces!”

·      “Dorks.” You said, even though your heart was swelling over how excited they were

·      Peter insisting you build it at his house that afternoon

·      Only to be waiting for Peter for over three hours in his room

·      So you and Ned decide to build it on your own because screw you Peter Parker

·      It took way too long to build it and tbh you were over it after fifteen minutes

·      But Ned was so excited and you just couldn’t disappoint him

·      It actually turning out to be really fun

·      The two of you high fiving in pleasure after it’s built

·      Admiring the thing you could have sworn was stupid five hours ago

·      Then you notice the window lifting up, and Spider-Man crawling on the ceiling

·      You and Ned being in total shock as he shuts the door and drops to the floor

·      He removes his mask and holy fuck your met with the back of Peter’s head

·      He hits the spider emblem on his suit and it deflates off of him, revealing him in just his boxers

·      And woah he is hot

·      Like damn

·      Absolutely gorgeous

·      Molded by God himself

·      Anyway

·      “Holy-“ and then Ned drops the Millennium Falcon that you had been working on for three.hours.

·      It breaks into like a gazillion pieces and you turn into a mother

·      Like “Well how are you supposed to re-build it now that all the pieces are mixed together? Should’ve been more careful.”

·      But anyway

·      Peter is all flustered bc he’s practically naked right in front of you

·      “You’re the spider-man from youtube” Ned said

·      “No, I’m not.” Pete said, trying to make it seem like he didn’t have a suit at his feet

·      “You were on the ceiling.” You said

·      And you can’t really keep your eyes off him

·      But your also really hurt bc you were supposed to be best friends and how could he not tell you something as big as him being a superhero

·       Ned is completely ecstatic

·      You were smiley but still upset

·      You just weren’t gonna let the boys see it

·      Peter made the both of you pinky promise up, down, and sideways that you wouldn’t tell anyone

·      Helping Peter with his missions

·      Him sending you videos while he’s supposed to be on extremely confidential and dangers missions

·      “Y/n, look! These are the same weapons those guys who robbed the bank used! Oh shoot, I think they saw me-“ and the video just cutting right there

·      Being worried all the time bc if anything happened to Peter you might just die

·      Being slightly jealous of him bc he is a genius

·      “I got a 95. What’d you get?”

·      “100.” Shit.

·      You being the artsy one though

·      Peter coming over to see you hunched over your desk trying to paint something in watercolor

·      You beaming at him when its done, and his heart flutters bc your so damn cute

·      Not to mention your really good at painting

·      Him going with you to the store at 10 o’clock at night bc you spontaneously decided you wanted to get into embroidery

·      “You can’t walk around Queens by yourself at night, Y/n. There’s too many bad people.”

·      “You’re gonna save me from them, Spider-Boy?”

·      “Spider-Man.” He corrected. But you were so happy he worried and cared for you

·      Going back to the store thirty minutes later when you realized you bought sewing thread instead of embroidery floss

·      “What’s the difference?!” you complained all the way there

·      Turns out there’s a huge difference

·      Peter watching a movie as your trying to embroider things

·      Him rubbing your shoulders when you get frustrated that you’re not doing it right

·      “It takes practice, and you’ll get it super quickly. You’re the most amazing person I know at this kinda stuff.”

·      Dying on the inside bc you really wished he was yours

·      Him running into his closet one day bc his backpack of clothes was stolen again and he needed another pair of paints

·      Ripping a pair of jeans off the hanger only to realize you painted sunsets on the back pockets of his favorite jeans

·      Pretending to be upset but really loving them

·      He wears them every day now and never puts them in his backpack

·      Being great friends with MJ

·      As much as you love the boys, it’s really nice having a girl friend to rant to about girl things

·      Her trying to get you to admit your feelings for Peter

·      “It’s the twenty-first century. You don’t need to wait for him to tell you first. You go out there and tell him how you feel. Woman up!”

·      You still being nervous

·      Peter loves your hair

·      Like he loves it

·      It’s really long and he’s always braiding it

·      Or attempting to braid it

·      It’s really funny too bc you could just be hanging out and he’ll ask you if he can brush your hair

·      “You wanna brush…my hair?”

·      “Uh-huh.”

·      “..ok”

·      Him apologizing profusely when he just rakes through a knot

·      “Oww!! Peter!!”

·      “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry”

·      Him coming to your window every time he gets hurt bc he wants you to fawn over him

·      But he also needs medical attention and he doesn’t know where else to go

·      “Damn it Parker” you mutter to yourself as you bandage his cuts

·      Admitting to him how worried you are for him and how scared you are that one day he won’t come back to you

·      As your rambling you accidentally admit that you love him

·      “I don’t know what I’d do if you died, Pete. I love you way too much for that.”

·      His eyes get wide and on the inside bells are ringing

·      Him getting so happy

·      You realizing and sirens going off in your head bc your 100% sure you just ruined your friendship

·      Him grabbing your face and kissing you

·      “I love you too. And I could never die. I’ll always be showing up at your window”

·      Now that you two are together you literally cannot keep your hands off of one another

·      Him always trying to hold your hand

·      He does that corny thing of pretending to place something in your hand, but instead laces his fingers with yours

·      You know what he’s doing each and every time he does it but loving in anyways

·      He has to give you exactly two kisses whenever you go to a different class

·      If your running late and really need to get to class, you’ll kiss him once really quickly and start to run towards your class

·      But he grabs your hand and pulls you into him so he can kiss you one more time

·      And it’s always longer and more passionate than the first one

·      Sometimes if he’s really craving you in between classes he’ll pull you into an empty classroom, press up against the wall and you’d make out for the five minutes you have before the bell goes off again

·      Omg the winks

·      If your eyes meet his, he’ll give you the sexiest wink ever

·      If your across the room and your watching him do something, he’ll catch your gaze and send you a wink

·      And sometimes he’ll bite his lip a little

·      I know, who gave me the right?

·      He gets all protective when there’s another guy looking you

·     and he’s sooo gentlemanly

·      Always holding the door open for you, and never lets you open the car door

·      “I can handle opening a car door, Parker.”

·      “Princess’s never touch door handles.”

·      He always makes sure you’re not walking on the outside of the sidewalk

·      Spending the night at each others house all the time

·      Sometimes whenever he’s out patrolling late at night you wait for him in his bedroom

·      If he doesn’t show up after 11 your more than likely already passed out either on his desk chair, or sometimes he’ll find you on the floor

·      He’ll try to pick you up bridal style but you wake up instantly

·      Except you never fully wake up

·      “Peter?”

·      “Hey, Love. I’m just gonna move you to the bed, go back to sleep.”

·      “No not the bed. There’s too many spiders.” And then you’ll pass out again

·      The first time you did that Peter literally searched his bed for half an hour trying to find those spiders

·      Ending up just sleeping on the couch bc he didn’t want to risk it

·      One night your passed out on his desk chair while youtube is still playing on his laptop

·      He tries to pick you up but you wake up again and when he asks you why you left the laptop on you said “don’t worry its under water”

·      He loves asking you stupid questions when you’re like that bc you give the stupidest answers

·      But sometimes whenever he picks you up you don’t stir, and instead just cuddle into his chest

·      It drives him crazy

·      May doesn’t really mind when you sleep over bc she loves you so much

·      Which since were on the subject lets dive into that for a sec

·      May loves you

·      Like the moment she met you she knew

·      She knew you and Peter were gonna be a thing

·      She always invites you over for game night, movie night, or whenever they go out to restaurants

·      She invites Ned too of course

·      But for you it’s a little different bc you’re the first girl friend Peter has had

·      And first girlfriend

·      She’s like a second mother to you

·      Wow love that

·      Anywho

·      Calling you the oddest nicknames

·      “My sweet bubba bar, come here.”

·      “Oh lemon goose!”

·      “Dear God, Peter, what are you on?”

·      He’s sooo dorky

·      He’s always telling you some science pun that he later has to explain bc you don’t get it

·      “What did Gregor Mendel say when he founded genetics?”

·      “I don’t know.”

·      “Woopea! Get it? Cause he did experiments on pea plants to figure out genetics?”

·      “That one was truly terrible. I need to flush my brain out with water.”

·      You secretly love his jokes though bc he’s so god damn cute

·      He’s Spider-Man (duh)

·      But let’s just think about the fact that he just gains muscle

·      Ok?

·      It’s your sworn duty to tease him about it

·      “Hey, Pete? Can you maybe lift up the apartment building? I think I hid my diary under it.”

·      “Peter! I’m entering you into the Olympics heavy weight contest. How much do you weigh?”

·      “Do you think you could make a statue just by punching marble? Like, most artists use a chisel, but with your strength I think you could just touch the stone and pieces would fall off.”

·      “…I hate you.”

·      But it’s also your sworn duty to fawn over him

·      Running your fingers across his arms whenever your studying in the library

·      Your hands on his abs whenever you make out

·      Not being able to keep your eyes off him whenever his shirt is off

·      Being Spider-Man means something new to him now bc now he’s saving you

·      Of course he’s worried about his aunt and his friends but with you it just feels different

·      So when you get in a car accident and go off the side of the highway its like his mind went completely blank

·      He was just swinging by and happened to witness a car slam into yours

·      Except he doesn’t know you’re in the car right away

·      The car spins across the road and slams into the concrete walls, completely smashing through it

·      The car teeters on the very edge, and in that split second his spider eyes on the mask zoom into the window and he can see you in the backseat with a friend

·      He just sees your face and immediately he goes on auto pilot

·      He can’t react bc he’s too focused on stopping that car from slamming into the ground fifty feet down

·      The car falls off, but Peter already has webs attaching to it.

·      The car is halfway down when he attaches all the webs to a beam holding up the highway

·      The car stops falling and is just hanging by a few threads

·      He knows he has about ten seconds to get everyone out before it starts falling again

·      He’s at the car door in .5 seconds and in .7 he ripped your seatbelt off and pulled you out

·      He can’t fuss over you or even pay attention to you that much bc he has two other people to save

·      And he knows that if he sees your petrified face streaked with tears or worse, injuries, he wouldn’t be able to leave your side

·      He sets you down on the ground before he’s back at the car pulling your friend out

·      When he pulls out the lyft driver the car creaks dangerously and breaks away from the webs

·      The car crashes down the street, but Spider-Man put you and your friend far enough away from the car so no one gets hit

·      Police cars, ambulances, and news vans are already on site

·      Peter can finally let himself be worried and he’s at your side immediately

·      Paramedics are trying to examine you but he won’t let them just yet

·      He has your face in his hands and he’s telling you everything’s gonna be ok

·      You’re so utterly terrified that you can’t really think

·      But you know that your boyfriend is under that mask and you just wanted him to hold you

·      You hug him tightly and sob into his suit

·      The paramedics just leave you alone cause they have two other people to attend to

·      Anyway that day was just wild lol

·      Your terrified of cars now

·      And heights

·      Peter is terrified of not being there to save you

·      Your parents don’t really care when he stays the night anymore

·      Which he does almost every single night now

·      He has his own drawer full of his things

·      It takes a while for you two to get back to normal

·      Homecoming being super fun

·      Dancing with all your friends was great

·      He looked incredibly handsome

·      You looked absolutely gorgeous

·      Peter’s just so happy you’re his

·      I think that’s all I have bc I just wrote wayyyy to much

·      Oh one more thing

·      Where can I get a Peter Parker?

#marvel #mcu #peter parker #spiderman #imagine #fanfic #avengers endgame #cute #fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker one shots #peter parker imagines #spiderman x reader #spiderman one shots #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland one shots #tom holland x reader #far from home #homecoming #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #avengers

[yuriyuu]

Guilty

Yuri doesn’t always know what to do when someone’s upset, but he tries his best.

Pairing: JJ x Yuri

(I asked @otabekismybff to give me a short prompt bc I felt like writing but didn’t feel like working on my current projects, and it turned into this 1.5k monster. The prompt was similar to “JJ is upset and Yuri tries to comfort him but fails.”

(read on AO3)

JJ doesn’t mope. He gets irritable, he gets panic attacks, he gets loud, he gets needy, but JJ doesn’t mope, at least not that Yuri’s ever seen. So quite frankly, when JJ comes home to their shared apartment and holes himself away in their bedroom with nary a single word, Yuri is more than a little worried. But he figures, maybe what JJ needs is space. Yuri cannot count the number of times he’s barricaded himself in the bedroom and left poor JJ to fend for himself. As unusual as it is for JJ to willingly isolate himself from others, stranger things have happened during their time together. So he swallows his worry and waits for JJ to come seek him out.

Hours pass, and dinner time is lurking around the corner. There’s still no sign of JJ leaving their room, and Yuri wonders if he should go and get him at this point. By now, JJ should either be raging about what’s bothering him, or they should be participating in consolation snuggles, or perhaps both at the same time since the two of them seem to have a penchant for angry cuddles. Why is he shutting him out like this? Did he do something wrong? At any rate, he’s getting hungry and a lonely childhood full of absentee parental figures makes him resent the idea of eating alone, so into the lion’s den he goes.

Yuri knocks once. No response. Yuri knocks again. No response. He huffs slightly before letting himself in. JJ is currently a curled up lump under the blankets on his side of the bed. Yuri makes his way over, taking care not to step on any of their dirty clothes strewn across the floor all while making a mental note that maybe they should have a laundry date soon.  He kneels down beside him and peels back the covers JJ is hiding himself under.

“Hey...I’m getting hungry. What do you want--” Yuri stops mid sentence when he catches sight of JJ’s red, puffy eyes, “Holy shit, were you crying this entire time?”

“Are you serious? Are you fucking serious right now?” JJ’s voice drips venom as he bolts up. The look of shock, confusion, and hurt on Yuri’s face makes him want to laugh in disgust. “If you hadn’t been ignoring me all afternoon you would have known I was upset!”

“I wasn’t ignoring you!” Yuri says defensively, “You usually don’t mope around the house, and when you locked yourself in the room I thought you wanted to be left alone! I was trying to give you space!”

JJ narrows his eyes. “You thought I was moping? I feel the worst I have in years and you call it moping?! I can’t believe you.” He’s absolutely livid right now.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” Yuri’s voice is but a whisper, and while he tries to mask the hurt in his voice, he fails. JJ catches onto it immediately.

“You didn’t even look at me when I came home. Why the fuck would I want to spill my goddamn heart out to someone who can’t even be bothered to ask me how my day was? Hell, the only reason you came in to check on me is because you’re hungry.”

He’s so livid he doesn’t even care about the fresh tears forming in his eyes.

The tears forming in JJ’s eyes don’t go unnoticed by Yuri. He reaches out to to gently put his hand on JJ’s shoulder, and flinches when JJ slaps it away.

“Don’t.”

Tension crackles between them like wayward electricity. They both avert each other’s eyes, and neither of them are willing to say anything for reasons of their own.

It’s Yuri who decides to break the silence. “What do you want me to do?” He asks. His voice is soft, full of genuine care and concern, and if JJ weren’t so pissed off at him, he would pull Yuri down into the sheets with him and sob into his shoulder.

But he is pissed off at Yuri, and the last thing he wants to do is be anywhere near him, much less sob into his shoulder as Yuri holds him in his arms.

“Just leave. You’ve done enough,” is all he says before turns his back toward Yuri and retreats under the covers.

He hears the door open and close without a single word or protest from Yuri. He thought he’d be relieved once Yuri left, but the fact Yuri can’t even be bothered to argue back with him and fight his way by his side leaves him feeling even more upset.

Yuri throws himself down onto the couch and quietly groans into a pillow. A million scenarios play through his head, each one more dramatic than the last. What if he had been more attentive? What if he had said something like he originally wanted to? Why on earth did he think JJ, JJ of all people, would want space? Had he really given JJ such a cold shoulder when he came home this afternoon? Did he really leave JJ crying alone in their bedroom for hours? The guilt gnaws on his bones like a dog chewing a brand new rawhide.

And even still, instead of attempting to win his way back into his boyfriend’s good grace, he’s laying on the couch throwing himself his own personal pity party. Maybe JJ wasn’t moping earlier, but Yuri sure is now and it’s making him feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

Comforting people had never been his strong point, and he thinks back to all the times his grandpa had tried to comfort him with simple words of encouragement and freshly prepared food. Perhaps if things were especially bad, a special blend of tea. JJ might not want to be within a thousand feet of him right now, but at the very least Yuri could leave a cup of warm tea on his nightstand. So Yuri sighs, picks himself up off the couch, and drags himself into the kitchen to prepare JJ some tea.

When the water boils, at first he goes to reach for one his own teas. His expensive, high quality teas imported straight from Russia. But he hesitates for a moment, and instead chooses to brew a bag of the cheap tea JJ prefers from the grocery store. While JJ deserves nothing but the finest and most expensive teas, the cheap gross shit is what makes him happiest. It wounds Yuri’s pride to brew his boyfriend such bad tea, but if the cheap gross shit from the grocery store is what makes him happiest, then so be it.

He even throws extra cream in it, just like JJ likes it.

This time, Yuri doesn’t bother knocking on their door before entering.

“Hey, I uh...made you some tea,” Yuri says to JJ, who is still hiding under the covers. “Don’t worry, I promise it’s not one of mine. I’ll leave it on the nightstand for you, okay? I’ll uh, be in the living room if you wanna talk or something. I’m sorry and I love you. Hope you feel better soon.” Yuri feels a lump forming his in his throat as he tells this to JJ. It feels awkward and out of character for him, and it takes all of his willpower for him not to cut off his apology prematurely and make a run for it.

Before Yuri can leave, he hears JJ say, “Wait.”

Yuri turns around, heart beating rapidly in his chest. JJ’s sitting up, out from under the covers, and looking straight at him.

“Is this...guilt tea because you feel guilty?”

Fuck. Had he done the wrong thing again? His eyes dart toward JJ’s face to gauge his response.

JJ doesn’t look pissed off anymore, in fact he’s...smiling? Yuri is so utterly confused right now.

“Wow, you must really feel bad if you aren’t even gonna roll your eyes at my pun.”

The tension melts from Yuri’s face. “Oh fuck you,” he says,  but he’s now smiling too.

“Come here,” JJ says, motioning with his hands.

Yuri does. He crawls on the bed next to JJ, and JJ immediately throws his arms around Yuri, pulling them close together.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier, forgive me?”

“Of course. How can I not? I even made you your shitty grocery store tea to earn your forgiveness.”

JJ leans in and kisses Yuri’s forehead. “I know, how can I not forgive you after that?”

“Gross. Just hurry up and drink your shitty tea before it gets cold. You know how I feel about cold tea.”

“Hey, let’s go get dinner after I finish drinking my shitty tea. Crying all day made me hungry, and I’m sure you’re still hungry because you refuse to eat without me.”

Yuri laces their hands together, and cuddles up against JJ’s body, leaning his head in the crook of JJ’s neck. “Sounds like a plan. Just next time you feel this bad and you think I’m ignoring you, please come talk to me, okay? I promise I was really just trying to give you space. I’m sorry for being an asshole earlier.”

In between sips of tea, JJ gives Yuri’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know. And I’m sorry for taking it the wrong way and yelling at you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too”

#pliroy #jjyuri #yuri plisetsky #jean jacques leroy #yuri on ice #my writing #i literally wrote this entire fanfic around that one single pun #why am i like this

[scenariosofkonoha]

Tobirama and Kagami political AU Inauguration headcanons ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Bless your soul, dear

No, bless you for submitting this; I put a lot of Kagami in this bc Kagami needs so much love. I literally could spend days just writing about this, so we’re gonna start from election night on forward bc I did some research on inaugurations and ehh I hope this okay.. Also if you haven’t seen the political AU with Kagami and Tobirama then you should read this

The day before the election, the Senju-Uchiha campaign was split into three different regions, all giving speeches trying to pull in any of the undecided voters in before the following day, because there is still so much controversy over the fact that Kagami and Tobirama are running together and not against. The whole public is still in the phase of processing this, because it was only a few years back that Madara and Hashirama were running opponents and that was such a cutthroat race. Tobirama and Kagami’s opponents like playing that off to the public, because it’s so easy for them to be like, “Bad blood between families doesn’t just disappear like that; makes you really question why they’re running together…” and so there is still this controversy around Kagami and Tobirama as a pairing. Anyway, in attempt to dispel this, Tobirama was in one region, Kagami in another, and Kagami’s S/O in the third. (Lol Kagami’s poor wife has to do all these extra speeches bc Tobirama wants to stay a bachelor, but they still need someone to give the first lady speeches.)

The night before the election, everyone who is a part of the Senju-Uchiha campaign is traveling back to a singular region where they all are going to converge and wait to hear the results of the campaign, but dear Lord, they are all so exhausted. The months and months of campaigning have finally taken their toll, and they all want nothing more than this to be over, but at the same time they all feel like they are supposed to be doing something more, rather than just having patience and waiting for the election results to be counted. It’s just a strange feeling, because there’s nothing left for them to do, but they still feel like they should be doing something.

On the plane ride back home, Tobirama shuts himself away to just get away from everyone and to sleep. He’s reached his point with dealing with massive crowds of people, and if one more person asks him another stupid question, he’ll probably start sassing them, and the public doesn’t need to know of the snarky side of his attitude .

Poor Kagami is so anxious that he is continuously pacing back and forth on the jet, just trying to keep himself moving. He totally out of touch with what’s going on around him, and he keeps replaying all of his own speeches and conferences, praying that they are enough. He’s just come so far as a politician, and he’s proven that he is different from his predecessors and he’s just praying with everything that he’s got that the public will allow him as their VP. He just wants to serve his people and make Tobirama proud; just bless his little heart, such good intentions.

By the time everyone gets back in the same hotel, it’s some ungodly hour in the morning. For the most part, everyone just goes their own way bc of pure exhaustion, but Tobirama makes sure to see his running mate and thank him for everything, regardless of what the outcome may be before he goes back to sleep. ‘Course this is Tobirama, and so this more or less comes off as a pat of the back and something along the lines of “You did good…”

Honestly, Tobirama’s so proud of Kagami, because he’s seen this kid grow up and become such a good hearted politician who genuinely wants to give his country everything and guide them into a future of prosperity. Sometimes it’s refreshing for Tobirama, because even though Kagami is so young and comes from a family that isn’t always the greatest, he has the heart of a genuine leader, and Tobirama’s just grateful that he got the opportunity to run with him. It’s a bit of a sobering moment for Tobirama, but he’s still glad it happened.

Still Kagami is just so wired about it all that he cannot relax at all even hours after everyone else has gone to bed. In his head, he’s coming to the reality that in less than 24 hours, he’s either going to be the vice president or everything that he’s been fighting for will be taken away from him. It’s just not settling, and even though he hasn’t slept in over 30 hours, he’s still very much awake and just constantly contemplating everything.

Kagami’s wifey had to spike his drink with like half a bottle of Nyquil, because she knew that he was going to have to go to sleep and this was the only way to get him to calm down enough to do so. Course Kagami knew this, but he didn’t really do much to stop it; he trusts his well being with her more than himself if he had to tell the truth.

LOL AND THIS BOY WAS OUT UNTIL LIKE 6 THE NEXT NIGHT, he really needed it though. Wifey Uchiha came and woke him up, telling him that he should probably start getting ready or Tobirama would start questioning what had happened to him. Poor baby is slightly confused for a moment, because bless his heart he can’t think clearly when he wakes up, but then he just jolts awake like he’s having a heart attack, because the election results are beginning to come and he needs to be in the broadcast room in like an hour.

When everyone finally makes it into the showing room, it’s oddly calm at the beginning as they continuously watch the results come in and all of the little TV segments showing the road to the election. Of course there’s only maybe fifteen people in there, but for the first time in months, the campaign team seems calm. Up until they all made their way into the room, everyone was nervous, but when the lead campaign managers see both Tobirama and Kagami in there speaking with each other like nothing is happening and they are normal people; this huge weight is lifted off of them, because the reality that these two men may be leading the country in less than two hours is just something that everyone could easily live with.

Tobs and Kagami look so cute and adult in this too. Like both are wearing business suits; Kagami’s got a red tie with little Uchiha cufflinks and Tobirama’s got a blue tie with Senju cufflinks, and they look so official. Like let’s just swear them into office right now.

Tobirama keeps on making these snarky little comments every time an announcer says some not related to the campaign. It’s kinda funny, because he’ll just say it loud enough for Kagami to hear, and Kagami always just raises an eyebrow and its this cute little ritual between the two.

Kagami’s wife has to keep slicking bits and pieces of his hair back, because he keeps messing with it out of anxiousness and it keeps falling out. She’s takes his face in her hands for a moment and is all like, “Love, you need to calm down.” but of course he really can’t stop this nervous tick, so she just holds his hand as the results become more and more evident.

All of a sudden, like almost all of the votes are in a single moment and they are rapidly displaying more and more of them on the screen, and at first the race was neck to neck, but the second that the majority of the votes are displayed, Tobirama and Kagami have this massive lead, and it’s just like, “Holy shit,” because they are winning, and they’ve received more than 80 percent of the vote and now there’s no way that their opponents can win and Jesus Christ they’ve just won the election

The entire room erupts in cheering, because they’ve done it. Their months of grueling and exhausting campaigning have finally come to an end, and Tobirama Senju and Kagami Uchiha are the next President and Vice President

Tobirama just has this great smirk across his face; so fucking prideful. Acts like he knew he was going to win the entire time, despite the fact that he did worry about losing, but he can’t allow the world to see that sometimes he is worrisome, right?

Kagami’s just is absolute disbelief. Like it took him a second to actually process the fact that they had such a big lead, but as soon as he realizes it, there’s this huge smile and he’s hugging everyone and bless his heart.

Bring out the liquor, friends. Y’all best believe that they brought out the good stuff for this. Isn’t everyday that you win an election with a running duo that everyone thought would fail.

Kagami’s too wound up to even notice that his wifey doesn’t drink; maybe she’ll tell him she’s 2 months pregnant at a time where his heart won’t overload from everything ;)

#my boy #he needs more love #kagamiuchihaawareness2k17 #kagami #kagami uchiha #tobirana #tobirama senju #kagami uchiha headcanons #tobirama headcanon