#like after we fuck were just completely gross and sweaty so we hop in the shower.

[bagels-withcreamcheese]

On second thought I might actually like him. u know . we’ve like ..bonded now. After spending the second night in a row at his place I’m beginning to…Feel things. He is at work currently but I will probably go back tonight. He told me to bring Nessy and just live in his room LOL I might don’t tempt me.

#OK THE SONGHE MADE ME THO #IT WAS SO GOOD WTF #how he did that in less than 10 min was so impressive like u literally sat and watched him make the beat #then he did the audio in one take just freestyled it. ok mr talent. #he said he’ll finish editing it later n send it 2 me <3 #also the amount of showers I’ve taken in the past two days. #5 times. that’s more than I shower in a whole week. #like after we fuck were just completely gross and sweaty so we hop in the shower. #I didn’t even shower after every time just the times when I was really drenched in sweat #anyway tomorrow I gotta wear boots and clothes I don’t care abt bc we’re going to explore the caves under the mill ruins. #we were going to today but I was dressed cute n he didn’t want me to get my clothes dirty #he n his friends literally know all the best abandoned areas in the cities #he’s going to take me on an abandoned building tour YESSS #so fun. the place we went in today was over near dinkytown #it was so so cool #the building was falling apart but there’s no fun without a lil danger #we made our way up to the rooftop and my foot went through the fucking roof like a small section collapsed #I was fine though I didn’t fall luckily but the adrenaline rush. love it. #anyway. he’s so cute agshdhdjdj such a soft boy. a soy boy if u will. a gentle loving girly boy. #but also a bad boy who could fuck u up of he chose to do so. get u a man who can do both #ok I think I might actually like him now he’s so so sweet #also he has so much money . I was like ‘I don’t have a tv’ and he’s like let me buy u one I have more money then I know what to do with #OK bragger #like he’s been paying for everything for us it makes me feel kinda bad bc I am broke but he doesn’t seem 2 mind #anyway anyway. Uli. he’s cute. and talented. and funny. ugh. complete package. #like I have so much to say abt him. we really hit it off I’ve had so much fun with him eeeeeee #tess talks

[rebeccccccaaa]

ｂｕｎｎｙ

_____________________________

ｂｕｃｋｙ ｂａｒｎｅｓ ｘ ｓｔｒｉｐｐｅｒ!ｒｅａｄｅｒ

ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ: bucky’s got a little secret that he goes to every night; where his little bunny is waiting for him just like always.

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ: smut 18+ (pet names, bucky gives you a collar ;), face sitting, oral m recieving, light bondage, semi public sex, unprotected sex) slight angst?

ａ/ｎ: i really like this lmao might do a part 2? idk let me know 

ｗｃ: 2.3k

_______________________________

“Where are you headed Buck?” 

“Out,” he said without much thought.

“Wait!” Steve shouted, running to catch up to him.

“Seriously, Buck. What’s going on? You’ve been out almost every night. You’ve taken out tons of money for cash,” Buck looked at Steve confused, “Yeah, Tony asked me why you were wasting your paycheck and where it was going. I told him I have no idea.”

“Can you not right now? We’ll talk…” Bucky trailed off patting his pockets; looking for something.

“We’ll talk later, I promise,” he said before running upstairs to grab a velvet box. 

Bucky went to the garage, luckily without running into anyone, and hopped on his bike and headed to the club downtown. When Bucky got there his senses were quickly overwhelmed with the smell of weed, smoke, sweat, alcohol. But he got over once his eyes landed on you. 

You sat in the pink and purple lights on another man's lap; slipping bills in your bra and panties, laughing and sulking in your attention. Bucky knew the demands your job had but it didn’t stop him from wanting to turn any man who touched you or even looked at you like he did inside out. 

You looked up and noticed Bucky’s piercing eyes looking at you. You wanted to cave in yourself. It wasn’t often that Bucky would find actually doing your job but when he did you felt dirty and gross; like you were cheating on him even though he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his. 

Yet.

“That’s your time,” you said sexily to the man. 

“Oh come on, baby. Lemme get another hour. Maybe we can migrate to one of the private rooms?” he whispered disgustingly. 

“I’m sorry. I have another client,” you looked down at his hand where a gold wedding band sat on his fourth finger.

“Hey, you’re not going anywhere. It’s your job to please me,” he grabbed your arm roughly, shocking. This wasn’t rare but it also didn’t happen a lot; it still scared you when stuff like this happened.

“I already told you I have another client,” you yanked your hand away, quickly walking away shaking.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he said distantly; you rolled your eyes. Sometimes this job makes you feel disgusting.

“Are you ok?” Bucky said brushing your arm softly when you went up to him.

“Yeah, I’m  ok. The room in the back corner is open for us, I’ll meet you there. I’m just gonna grab a quick drink. Do you want anything?”

“No. Wait- Actually could I just have some water?”

“Mission?”

“Yeah,” he responded; you smiled softly before going to the bar. 

“You ok? I saw what happened,” the bartender asked you while grabbing two waters for you and Bucky.

“Yeah, just a guy with too much testosterone,” you chuckled.

“Need a shot?” she asked, holding a bottle of tequila.

“No, uh, Buck’s here,” you hesitated. She knew about your “nightly sessions” you’ve had for the past couple months. Yes, months. Bucky came almost every night. It started just for sex at first. You hadn’t intended to sleep with him his first night but it happened. Since then Bucky became addicted. He doesn’t even pay, he just shows up and fucks your brains out. And you don’t mind not one bit.

“This isn’t healthy for either of you.”

“I know but it’s all I have right now.”

You walked around the swarm of dancers and clients coming up to the private room designated for private dances. You slowly opened the door and closed it behind seeing Bucky snap his head to you when you came in. His usual worrisome and hard face soften with his beautiful smile. 

You smiled back handing him his water. He took it and chugged it all in seconds. Some water spilled down his chin and his throat and you were instantly turned on, holy hell that was hot.

“Thank you, bunny,” he smirked. The name you were given when you joined the club as a dancer was Bunny; it was also Bucky’s favorite name to call you. 

“Speaking of, I have something for you,” he took out the velvet box and grabbed your hand to lead you to the small pink bed. He sat you on his lap, hands rubbing your legs softly while you carefully opened the box. Inside was a baby pink collar with diamonds speckled across the leather. There was a gold loop that dangled in the front, a tiny pink bow above it. On it spelled with diamonds as well was B’s Bunny. 

“I didn’t know if it would make you uncomfortable to have my whole name on it,” he whispered in your ear.

“I love it,” you giggled.

He nibbled on your ear while you pulled out the collar handing it to him so he could put it on. When he did he pulled on the loop to pull you in for a kiss. A messy dirty sloppy kiss that made you weak in the knees. Your arms wrapped around him pulling even closer.

“My bunny,” he growled when you pulled away.

You slowly got off his lap and to the floor. Your hands moved across his front before stopping at his waist. You unbuckled his pants pulling his belt off completely. 

“What are you doing, princess?”

“I want to say thank you. For my pretty collar,” you said sensually. 

You pulled his pants and underwear down his thighs, grabbing his cock pumping excruciatingly slow. His breath quickened when you licked the underside of it. Not long after, you wrapped your lips around his tip. You sank down a bit until his tip hit the back of your throat. Bucky’s hands brushed your hair delicately.

You move swiftly up and down his shaft hollowing cheeks to suck hard on his cock. You gagged only a little when Bucky started to move his hips upward  into your face. He moaned and whined underneath you making you hum in content. The hum you made vibrated against Bucky’s dick settled in the back of your throat. 

His hips arched off the bed and you deepthroated his cock feeling hot spurts of cum shoot down your throat.

“God, your fucking amazing, bunny,” Bucky panted coming down from his high. 

Bucky grabbed you hand and brought you to your feet, then sat you on his lap to kiss you. 

“Sit on my face, baby girl,” he whispered.

You crawled up his body and straddled his stomach first. He kissed your stomach and chest; he rubbed his hands all over you. You moaned softly and sighed in pleasure. The music was still playing in the club and you started moving your hips side to side, rolling your head back.

“You’re so fucking sexy, my bunny.”

You only smiled at him before proceeding to crawl up to straddle his face. He laid back to make room for you leaving tender kisses on your inner thighs. You looked down to see Bucky under you; the sight was gorgeous. He lifted his hands to move your panties to the side then licked a slow long line up your pussy. 

“You're so wet, bunny,” he mocked.

He continued skillfully moving his tongue up and down your pussy and you moaned and whined above him. You down again to find Bucky’s cheeks tinted red, his forehead a little sweaty, and his eyes closed; basking in your sex you gave him. His hands wrapped around your thighs from underneath and he pulled you further down on him, sucking on your clit. 

He moaned as well making vibrations, your body shuddered in pleasure. The pressure building in your stomach was about to burst so you reached down and curled your fingers in Buck’s hair tugging gently. Your back slightly arched and you came, practically gushing all over his face. 

“That was fucking amazing, we need to do that again. I fucking loved it,” Bucky said when he sat up. 

You panted before laying back on the bed chuckling at what Bucky said. He stood up and you thought he was done for the day, ready to walk out of here like he didn’t just blow your fucking mind by having you sit on his face. But he walked to where you had previously discarded his belt and grabbed it after he stripped off his shirt. 

He turned to you slowly and stalked up to you, smirking like the devil. You sat up smiling back at him; he stood in between your legs with the belt in his hands. 

“Gimme,” he said firmly.

You gave him your hands and he wrapped the belt around them. Tonight he was extra adventurous. Usually he would come and you would ride him maybe once or twice, you’d suck his dick, he would eat you out but all this normally was on the bed or the small couch that’s off to the side. 

You’ve never sat on his face, or anyone’s face, and you’ve never been tied up in any way. But you'd do anything for him and if this is what he wants for tonight he was gonna get it.

Bucky kissed you when he finished looping the belt around your wrists. He made sure it wasn’t too tight before laying you back with your hands above your head. He grabbed your panties and slipped them down your legs. He took his pants and boxers off too leaving him bare before you. 

He crawled above you and looked to you to make sure you were ok with everything. You’ve had sex almost every for the past few months and he still asks if you’re ok. It’s heartwarming. You nodded with a smile and he slid into you hard and fast. 

You moaned loudly and luckily the music was always quite loud in the club, part of the reason you  two have never been caught; beside the bartender lady having her suspicions and you telling her because you were getting too anxious not telling anyone.

He kissed you roughly groaning above you as his hips snapped in and out of you repeatedly. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in pleasure and Bucky chuckled proudly at that. He buried his face in your neck peppering light kisses every now and then. 

Your hands tugged away from each other, a pathetic attempt to break the bondage on you. You whined desperately wanting to hold Bucky; to run  your hands across his body like he does to you always. 

“Bunny, I’m gonna come soon.”

“Me too Bucky. You feel so good.”

“Tell me you let others touch the way I do?”

“No only you!” you moaned.

“Really? ‘Cause that’s not what I saw coming in here; seeing that man have his filthy hands all over you.”

“It’s not real,” you whimpered.

“And this is?” he growled.

“Yes! Bucky, I’m so close,” you sobbed, tears falling down your face in pleasure.

“Me too baby, let go for me. Let go.”

You tumbled over the edge, practically screaming through your climax. Bucky’s arms almost gave out as he came with you. You breathed heavily coming down from your high. Bucky quickly undid the belt and rolled to your side.  He grabbed your wrists finding them a little red and kissed them to soothe any pain you had. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, “You look deep in thought.”

“I want you,” he whispered.

“You already have me,” you said.

“No, I… It’s nothing,” he stood up gathering his clothes.

“You gonna keep working tonight?” he asked, getting dressed.

“No I think I’m done for tonight.”

“Ok well good night. I’ll see you tomorrow, bunny,” he came up to you and kissed you deeply before walking out.

Bucky got back on his back bike parked outside hesitating slightly; he wanted to bring you home. He wanted to fall asleep in your arms and wake up next to you. But he didn’t know if you felt the same way about him; it seemed like it but that was your job. You indulge in men’s desires and fantasy. Maybe that’s all this was, a fantasy. 

What he didn’t know was when he felt you, you took your collar off and stared at it. You hated how much you cared for him. How you would do anything for him and he had no fucking clue. He had no idea how he made your heart flutter with every smile, every kiss, every little touch. You were so head over heels for him but you still think this is some fantasy he wants to play for the time being. 

Every night you leave after him, scared that it was the last. That you wouldn’t see him the next day because he’d grow tired of you and leave you for someone else. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You wanna talk now?” Steve said walking into Bucky’s room. 

“Really?” 

“Come on. Something is eating you up and you're being reckless with your paycheck, sneaking out every night and coming back at what,” he looked at the clock on his bedside, “3 in the morning?”

Bucky simply rolled his eyes.

“Are you doing drugs?” he asked like a stern father.

“No! Ugh Steve.”

“Tell me what’s going on, Buck.”

Bucky sighed and hesitated but ultimately confessed.

“I’ve met the love of my life and she doesn’t know it. She probably never will and I hate that.”

“Buck…” Steve sighed hugging his best friend to comfort him.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“The situation is a little complicated; kind of a long story.”

“Well it’s not like either of us are going to sleep anytime soon. I’ll grab the whiskey.”

Bucky chuckled and sat himself down ready to tell Steve about the gorgeous woman he meets at the club every night and how she has him wrapped around her finger; a sickly man in love with a woman he can’t have. His perfect little bunny, Y/n.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky fluff #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #marvel smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst

[littlegnoblin]

Happy Valentine’s Day to my best friend and other half @donestiel

read on ao3

Dean comes home from work to find Cas and Jack sitting at the table, red heart-shaped lollipops strewn in front of them. 

He gives Cas a quick kiss. “You trying to give the kid a sugar rush or what?” 

“Daddy! It’s for Valemtime’s Day!” Jack yells excitedly, hopping off his chair to hug Dean’s legs.  

“It’s pronounced valentine, Jack.”

“I don’t know, valemtime kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean says. Jack beams up at him and he can’t help but ruffle his hair. 

“Yes, well, the holiday has become so bastardized that I suppose renaming it wouldn’t hurt.” Cas squints at the box the candy came in. “Does no one find it odd that their children are passing around cards demanding others belong to them?”

Dean sits down and pulls Jack into his lap, flipping through the little pink cards. “I don’t know that you’re supposed to think about it that hard, dude.” He comes across a card that reads ‘kiss me’ and holds it up. “This, on the other hand-- they’re five, what the hell do they need to be kissin’ for?”

“I want kisses!” Jack protests. 

“You’re a little kiss monster.” Cas leans in and presses a big, exaggerated smooch to Jack’s cheek. “How was that? Did it satisfy the beast?”

Jack giggles and nods enthusiastically. 

“Hey, I’m gonna need to sample one of those kisses myself. Make sure they’re regulation-- standard procedure.”

“Is that right?”

“‘Fraid so,” Dean says with a shit eating grin. 

He’s expecting a goofy kiss like the one he gave Jack but Cas uses his thumb to tilt Dean’s chin just so and kisses him deeply. 

They break apart when two tiny hands push at their faces and Jack tells them to knock it off. 

“This is what Valentine’s Day is all about, champ. Besides, I thought you liked kisses.”

“You guys do it gross.” 

Dean smiles and bounces his eyebrows at Cas, who rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small curl of his mouth. 

“Perhaps your father will help you write your classmates’ names on the cards while I get dinner ready.”

“I can cook,” Dean says quickly. The thought of Cas’ last attempt at cooking has his stomach churning and he’s pretty sure feeding that toxic waste to Jack would be considered child abuse. 

Cas holds up a cardboard box. “It’s frozen pizza.”

“Alright, I’ll do babysitting duty. Just make sure you take the plastic off this time.”

“It’s not babysitting when it’s your own child and that was one time.”

“One time too many,” Dean mutters.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, dear.”

Cas glares at him. “I expect you to eat a healthy portion of salad along with your pizza tonight.”

“You making it yourself or is it bagged?”

The glare intensifies. 

Jack tugs on his sleeve. “Daddy, did you like doing valentine’s stuff in school?”

“Nah, it, uh-- it wasn’t really a thing when I was your age.” 

That’s a blatant lie but Dean’s not going to tell him the truth and bum him out. What five year old wants to hear that their dad didn’t do Valentine’s Day exchanges because there was barely enough money for food, let alone candy, and he never really stuck around any school long enough to get included in the holiday stuff. Shit’s depressing. 

“So you never got no cards or nothin’?”

“Nope.” Dean never got cards but he did get invited under the bleachers a few times in high school to unwrap a different kind of present. He’s not telling him that either, though. 

“That sucks. Can I have a lollipop?”

“Nice try, kid.” Dean taps on the card in front of them. “Get to writing.” 

He oversees the careful labelling of the cards, reminding Jack to double check the list of names anytime he spells something wrong and corrects a few backwards letters. They debate who gets what card and Jack complains that he has to give one to Tom who keeps cutting him in line. 

Cas rejoins them in the middle of Jack’s impassioned rant, hiding his smile behind his hand. 

“While I agree that Tom is a-- what was it you called him?”

“A butthead.”

“Yes, right, a butthead. While I agree he is a butthead, unfortunately I think you need to be the bigger person. Maybe this will even convince him to stop cutting in line and you two can be friends.”

“No way. I don’t wanna be friends with Tom.”

“You never know,” Dean says. “I didn’t like your dad when we first met, but I think he’s a pretty okay guy now.”

Jack looks at him wide eyed. “You didn’t like Daddy?”

“No way, he was a butthead.”

“It was more of a misunderstanding,” Cas explains. 

“Oh is that what we’re calling it?”

Cas lifts an eyebrow and stares him down. “What would you call it, Dean?” 

Shit, that should not be so hot. 

“Not the point; the point is that I didn’t think I would ever like your dad and now we’re married. Things change.”

Jack furrows his brows, considering. “I don’t want to marry Tom.”

Dean snorts. “You don’t have to. In fact, please don’t. His mom is a nightmare.” Cas kicks him under the table. “What! She is!”

“You don’t have to marry him and you don’t have to be friends with him,” Cas says, ignoring Dean completely, “but you do have to give him a card and some candy.” 

Jack grumbles but does as he’s told. Dean’s legs are starting to fall asleep but he’s become increasingly aware of how fast Jack is growing up and soon-- way too fucking soon, if you ask him-- he won’t be sitting in his lap at all so he silently resigns to not feeling his legs for the next ten minutes. 

“All done!” Jack yells and throws his hands in the air. 

“Sweet, now let's stick some candy in these bad boys and call it a night.”

“Wait, there’s a extra, what should I do with it?”

“Is there anyone who’s not in your class that you’d like to give a valentine to?”

Jack gasps and slaps a hand over Dean’s eyes, nearly poking one out in the process. “Close your eyes, Daddy!”

Dean dutifully closes his eyes until Jack tells him he’s finished. He slowly opens one eye and sees the pink card held about an inch from his face.

“For me?” he gasps dramatically.

“Yes!”

The front of the card reads ‘You’re the best!’ and when he opens it, he finds ‘Daddy’ written in some of the neatest handwriting from Jack he’s ever seen. Beneath it he’s signed his name, the K backwards like it always is on his first try. 

“I gave it to you because you never had one before and also you’re the best daddy ever, who makes me yummy chocolate chip pancakes and cheeseburgers and does funny voices for bedtime stories,” Jack explains. 

Dean wraps his arms around his son and rests his cheek on top of his head, his heart feeling fit to burst. “Thank you, Jack. I’m gonna keep this forever.” And he means it. 

“Welcome. Can I have a lollipop now?”

Cas points at Dean. “He gets that from you.”

 After the valentines are carefully put away and they’ve had dinner (plastic free and edible, which Cas seems proud of), Jack gets a bath and is tucked in bed. Dean and Cas spend the rest of the night sprawled out on the couch watching reruns of Doctor Sexy and drinking beer. Party city. 

When the Doctor Sexy reruns switch to Jeopardy, Dean knows it’s officially midnight. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess.” 

They tip their bottles together. 

“I hope I didn’t disappoint you by not planning anything,” Cas says, picking at the label on his beer. 

“What? No, of course not. We never do anything. I thought we were on the same page about avoiding that shit after our first Valentine’s together.”

They both shudder thinking about the sweaty cupid ‘handshake’. 

“We are, but we never actually discussed it and I…” Cas pauses and tilts his head. “I think having Jack around and seeing the world through his eyes, experiencing things in a new way, it makes me wonder if we’re not missing out on some of the little things.”

“Hey, we appreciate lots of the little things-- like you not cooking frozen pizza with the plastic still on.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, okay. So you sayin’ you wanna celebrate now?”

“Sam and Eileen do.”

“Sam and Eileen are saps. And they don’t have a five year old running around.” 

Cas makes a sound of agreement and softly strokes the back of Dean’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “You make a fair point. In all honesty, I don’t want to do anything extravagant but I would like to take the opportunity to remind you how much I love you. Am I allowed to be sappy for a moment?”

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess you deserve one day to get it all out.” He puts their bottles down and faces his husband. “Lay it on me, big guy.”

Instead of looking annoyed, Cas just looks fond. “You know, it’s ironic that a man as full of love as you are is so quick to dismiss any sentimentality. You are a fascinating creature.” A thumb sweeps under his eye where he’s got permanent dark circles and settles at the corner where his lines get deeper every day. It makes Dean want to squirm but he holds still under the reverent touch. “Perhaps that’s why I never stood a chance.”

“C’mon, man,” Dean says, dropping his eyes to the couch. 

“Hush, I’m allowed, I’ll have you know. My husband gave me explicit permission.”

“Well, your husband is thinking about rescinding the offer.”

“I love you.” 

Cas says it with such conviction that Dean can’t help but look back at him, at his bright eyes and soft smile; at the evidence of his love written all over his face. 

“I love you, endlessly, Dean Winchester. For everything that you are; the good and the bad. From the moment I saw your soul in hell, so bright it was almost blinding, I knew I would never be the same. You breathed life into me, gave me meaning and purpose, taught me the value of love, and you did it all, selflessly, simply by being the man that you are.” Cas draws him close, presses their foreheads together. “I can never give back all that you’ve given me but I promise you will have my love until we are nothing but a forgotten memory, and longer still.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and they breath together in the small space between them. 

“You can’t-- you can’t just say shit like that,” he whispers. 

“And why not?”

“Because it’s not true, first of all.” Cas opens his mouth to argue but Dean covers it with his hand and hurries on. “You’ve already given all of that back and more. God, Cas, if it weren’t for you I’d have been dead years ago. I needed to stick around-- to take care of Sammy, to stop whatever or whoever was trying to end the world next-- but you… you made me want to live. Really live, not just survive, you know? I fuckin’ love you, man.”

Cas pushes Dean’s hand away and presses his lips against Dean’s fervently. 

When they finally break apart for desperately needed air, they both pretend they aren’t sniffling like little girls. 

“You happy now? Can we go back to not doing this?”

Cas laughs. “I hadn’t planned on making it quite so emotional, I apologize. You always bring out the most in me.”

“Ugh, enough,” Dean groans, shoving Cas’ smiling face away. “You aren’t allowed to say anything even approaching romantic for the next twenty four hours, capiche?”

“I can agree to that, as long as I’m allowed to give you a gift later.”

“I thought you said you didn’t plan anything?”

“It’s nothing big.” Cas’ fingers sneak under Dean’s shirt and trail along his stomach, dipping to his waistband. “I just happened to walk by Victoria’s Secret and see a pair of pink satin panties in the window.”

Dean’s heart beats a little faster. “Oh yeah?” he says breathlessly. “Not gonna lie, that seems more like a present for you.”

Cas hums and leans over Dean, forcing him to lie back on the couch. “Well then I suppose I’ll just have to do whatever you want while you wear them.”

When he kisses him he tastes like cherry candy and Dean thinks could learn to like this holiday. 

#spn #destiel #deancas #bend-me-shape-me #sweatercas #rambleoncas #acklesy #alivedean #userpris #usersila #goodthingsclara #shelikestv #hope you guys dont mind me tagging you!!! #sarah writes

[sunkissedpages]

breaking curfew [part eight] || th x reader

A/N: day idk of quarantine. time is meaningless. 

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, prescription drugs, alcohol mention, anxiety mention

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter​ + CALM by 5sos

Word Count: 2.4k

Series Masterlist

You’ve only been x-rayed twice in your entire life- not counting regular trips to the dentist- before now. Once when you thought you broke your ankle, (but it was really just sprained) and another time when you had pneumonia. Still, neither of those times had been quite as intense as this. Maybe that was because your mom wasn’t with you like she had been before. Or maybe it was because Tom, the boy who was pretending to be your boyfriend, the one that had just undressed you minutes ago, was standing just a few feet away behind the glass. Or in all honesty, maybe it was because you were hopped up on codeine, but who could say?

The x-ray technician draped the lead apron over you and told you to hold your breath while she ran back to operate the machine. She had you lay in a few different positions and had a nurse help her move your arm gingerly each time to lessen the strain on your end. 

It was a painful process, but they moved as fast as they could so that you were back in your room within a few minutes. 

“How’re you feeling?” Tom asked as he sat back in the plastic chair by your bedside. 

“Kinda dizzy.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t walk five steps without running into a wall, I practically had to carry you back here.”

“Fuck off!”

“Glad the pain meds haven’t completely altered your personality,” he said, shaking his head. 

“I feel a little nauseous too,” you added and rolled your neck uncomfortably.

Tom sat up a little more, eyebrows raised in concern. “Are you going to throw up? Do I need to get someone?”

“It’s probably fine,” you shrugged.

“I don’t know about that...  you took those meds on an empty stomach- and that’s probably why you’re smashed to hell too.”

“It’s fiiine, Tom.” You yawned. “I just wanna nap.”

He chuckled and pulled the sheet that had been gathered around your waist up to your shoulders and laid it gently over them. 

“That seems like a good idea.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Good night, y/n.”

It felt like you blinked and you were being shaken awake again. You groaned and attempted to sit up on your elbows, cursing when you tried to put pressure on your injured arm.

“Easy, easy,” Tom said, helping you lay back down on your back. “Um, the doctor’s here, babe.”

“Babe?” you wondered aloud, still clearly disoriented as fuck. 

“Yeah, love. He’s here to tell you about your arm.”

Tom was pretending to be your boyfriend. Right. That made a lot more sense. Why else would he call you babe? 

The doctor introduced himself to you and Tom and talked briefly about what he was looking for in the x-rays as he set them up in the light display for you both to see. 

“So the bad news is that your arm is broken,” he explained, and you felt your heart sink even though you knew it was coming. “But the good news is that it’s just a minor fracture- barely visible on your radius there. It’ll only take about four to six weeks to heal in a cast, and you’ll be good as new.”

You bit your bottom lip wilted visibly. “Six weeks? The summer will be over by then!”

“It shouldn’t be an issue, unless you’re involved in a super active sport or-”

“We’re camp counselors-” Tom said abruptly, irritation at the edge of his voice.

“Oh, yes well you might run into some complications, but you should still be able to do most everything. Even with a cast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” he nodded. “I’ll print out a couple pamphlets and some other literature for you on how to care for your arm and cast and etcetera, and you should be fine.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll also prescribe you some pain killers. Probably not as strong as the codeine they gave you earlier, but a lighter dosage for a few days before switching to extra-strength ibuprofen might help you get back into the swing of things.”

You just nodded, not really understanding any of the words he was saying. You hoped Tom absorbed more of it than you did because you were honestly checked the fuck out. 

“I’m just going to grab the plaster and gauze for your cast and I’ll be right back. What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange,” you said without a second thought.

Tom waited until the doctor was gone before giving you a confused look. “Why’d you say that?”

You gave him the same look back. “What do you mean?”

“Orange isn’t your favorite color.”

“Says who?”

“Your favorite color’s always been green.”

“H-how’d you know that?”

“You really think I don’t remember you cheating your way onto the green team at mega relay every summer?”

“I would not cheat!” you argued.

“You’re supposed to pick a headband out of the box randomly! I don’t think peeking through your fingers and conveniently grabbing a green one every single time counts as random.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence, so good luck proving that in court.”

Tom held his hands up in surrender. “Damn, who said anything about court?”

“I just like being prepared.”

“But wait, why did you get orange?”

You shook your head absentmindedly and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s Theo’s favorite color. I thought she’d like it.” 

“That’s... really sweet.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Holland. I can be nice sometimes.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” 

Before you could say anything snarky back the doctor came back in with a written prescription and everything he needed to set and wrap your arm. You tensed and looked away as he set to work on it, using an alcoholic wipe to sanitize your hand and forearm before wrapping it.  

“You can hold her other hand if you want, Tom,” the doctor said, probably thinking that would reassure you, even though in reality it made you way more anxious. 

You had reached for his hand just a few minutes ago, unprompted. But in your defense, you were very out of it. You were still out of it now, but the thought doing it again was ironically making your hands sweat. You guys didn’t really know each other... like that, and even though it was just pretend it felt weirdly intimate.You wouldn’t blame him if he stayed put where he was.

But to your surprise, Tom didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours. His palm was a little clammy too, which was a relief. You didn’t want to be the only one with a sweaty hand and gross him out or something, even if you were the one in agonizing pain. 

You squeezed tight as your arm was moved into position for the cast. It hurt like a bitch and for a hot second the nausea returned and you thought you might pass out. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” the doctor asked casually as he worked. “Tom, if I’m not mistaken you’re English? And y/n you’re not? How did that play out?”

“We met at work,” Tom said without missing a beat. 

You were kind of taken aback by how seriously he was taking his role. It really didn’t matter if he was actually your boyfriend or not, it’s not like he’d get kicked out if they found out he wasn’t. 

“At the summer camp?”

“Yeah, it’s really well-known for its international program. We get a lot of campers from all over.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Are you long distance during the year then?”

You and Tom traded looks with each other. Why did you have to get stuck with the chattiest orthopedic surgeon ever? Your fucking luck.

“We are, yeah.” Tom answered for you both again. “We trade off who visits who. We’ve both been in school so we don’t get to see each other very often, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Summers must be nice then, no? You get to see each other all the time.”

He forced a chuckle. “You have no idea.”

-

The girls practically tackled you the second you got back to camp, and you were immediately bombarded with a chorus of “can I sign it? can I sign it?” from every single one of them. 

“You can all sign it!” you promised. “After you brush your teeth!”

You had never seen them so excited to get ready for bed ever. They were almost giddy about it. 

Your arm was still pretty sore, and the pills were starting to wear off, but you were glad to finally be back in your cabin. You couldn’t wait to knock the heck out and sleep for as long as possible. 

The ride back from the emergency room had been much more peaceful than the ride there. Zendaya was a little pissed you’d disappeared from the waiting room without a word, she was mostly just glad you were getting to go home and rest. You ate your fries and chicken nuggets in the car, and accidentally ended up dozing off on Tom a few times, only to be jostled awake by bumps in the road. 

And now that the day was winding down you could relax and spend some time with your campers. 

“Me first!” Theo exclaimed, racing up to you with toothpaste still in her mouth. You laughed as she scribbled her name in jagged letters across your arm, putting a smiley face in the O. “We have the same favorite color!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her so you just laughed and nodded. “Now, go spit your toothpaste out before you choke!”

May was next. She signed her name right where your pinky was, almost as if she was trying to hide it. Amalia wrote her name in cursive just above your elbow, Grace signed her name with a heart at the end right next to Amalia’s, and Eva scrawled hers on top of your hand at the edge of your cast. 

You admired the girls’ masterpiece and showed it off to them. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s cool!” Amalia said, and the other girls added their agreements. “I’ve always wanted a cast!”

“Me too!” Grace chimed in. “Or crutches!” 

“I think it’ll definitely make me stand out,” you said as you sat on the floor and settled against one of the bunks for your girls’ daily Good Night Circle. 

“Maybe it’ll help you get a boyfriend!” Theo piped up, now wearing her big metal retainers.

“Or a girlfriend?” Evangeline pointed out very matter-of-factly.

The others were quick to jump on board. 

“Maybe one of the other counselors will see it and fall in love with you!”

“Do you want a boyfriend or a girlfriend?”

“We could help you!”

“Yeah! My dad says I’m a really good matchmaker!”

“You girls are silly!” you said, sighing in exasperation. “I think it’s time for bed.” 

There was less resistance than usual- maybe they were taking pity on you because you were broken- but there were still the typical whines and protests as you tucked them in. 

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” you said in a singsong voice as turned off the lights and climbed into your own bed. 

And you finally.... laid there staring at the ceiling. For hours. Despite being completely drained in every sense of the word, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing and you couldn’t get comfortable with your arm bent at a weird angle. And were you remembering everything that had happened that day wrong- or had Tom actually helped you get undressed? And then get dressed? Had he really held your hand? Twice?

You wiggled your fingers as if the movement would replicate the feeling of his hand in yours, or give you an answer of some kind, but of course there was nothing. Just that same emptiness you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

Realistically, you knew all of those things really had happened, and even if you couldn’t remember the specifics, you remembered the little things. Like the pink tint that highlighted Tom’s cheeks when he edged the straps of your swimsuit down your shoulders, or the rough calluses that had tickled your palms when you held hands with him. They reminded you that it wasn’t all some weird dream... or nightmare, rather. 

You pushed your covers off, suddenly feeling very hot. You sat upright and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, trying to force all the thoughts from your mind. Thinking about Tom in a positive manner was one of, if not the number one way your brain could betray you. Even barely brushing the subject had you breaking out into a cold sweat. The boy was really living rent free in your mind and not in a good way. 

Everything felt wrong, and not for the first time this summer you wished you could pour yourself a drink. Maybe it wouldn’t help with any of your problems, but it sure would take the edge off. 

Even though it was futile, you flopped back on your bed in the hope that sleep would have mercy on you and finally let you rest. You shut your eyes and tried a few of the meditation methods you’d learned from YouTube to make yourself sleepy, but even then you couldn’t shake the low buzz of anxiety that nudged at the back of your mind.

Fucking Tom Holland. 

If you weren’t going to get any sleep you might as well waste time on your phone. You unlocked it, fought the urge to google ‘can you pass out if you punch yourself hard enough,’ and opened Twitter instead. You didn’t need to show up to breakfast with a black eye and a broken arm tomorrow morning. 

Your eyelids were finally starting to feel heavy and the screen on your phone was getting dimmer and dimmer as you began to drift off when sudden knocking at your window startled you out of your half-asleep state. 

The first thought you had was that someone was trying to break in, but then you remembered that you were at a summer camp and there was literally nothing valuable in the cabin so you let yourself relax a little bit. 

When you squinted a bit, you recognized the figure on the other side of the glass and flicked them off with your casted hand, even though you were fairly sure they couldn’t see you sitting there in the dark. It was confirmed when they knocked again and you had to scramble to push open the window so they wouldn’t wake your campers- at this God-forsaken hour. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

this one was tricky to get figure out but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#breaking curfew #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland series #tom holland imagine #tom holland enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers

[andcontemplation]

I saw your pic of Winona and Helena and I was wondering if you could do a short ficlet of maybe young Joyce discussing her fling/friendzone/love with Hop with her older sister cause hell she's desperate about it

Like the sister could ask her out, give advice, tease her about it, they could talk about each other's experiences or Joyce could even ask her for advice cause she's afraid to fuck things up if it gets physical

I'm not a writer so I'm leaving all my ideas here, I'd love if you wrote this but don't worry if you're too busy or sth

Dear Anon -- I don’t normally take many fic requests because I’m such a slow writer, but this one just sprouted fully formed from my brain the moment I read your ask! It still took me a few days to get after since life got busy for me. It also turned out to be about 1400+ words so I’ve pasted below under the cut. I’ll be uploading it to Ao3 soon too when I get a chance :) I’d be happy to dedicate it to you if you feel comfortable dm-ing me your username on Ao3. Thank you for sending it along!

"Hey, you! What's wrong?"

Joyce nearly jumped out of her skin at the disembodied voice that called out from the empty bedroom -- or at least, the bedroom she thought was empty. She turned on a dime, clutching for her heart. Joyce might’ve been sixteen going on seventeen, but she was far too young for a heart attack.

"Jesus!" She gasped at the familiar figure sitting at the edge of the bed. "I didn't know you were home."

"Ma didn't tell you I was coming home for Thanksgiving?" Stella stopped unpacking the small duffle at her feet and raised an eyebrow at her sister.

Joyce sighed and leaned against the doorframe.

"Ma's not even here! She went to Chicago this morning with her new beau."

"Color me surprised," Stella deadpanned, throwing the pair of socks down on the bed in disgust. "Which one? Tom?"

Joyce shook her head.

"Randy. Tom was married."

Stella rolled her eyes and reached for another handful of clothes.

"Of course he was," she snapped. "How does she keep falling for that same old line?"

Joyce only shrugged and toed the door jamb, waiting for her sister to invite her into her room.

They hadn't seen much of each other since Stella ran off at sixteen to live with her boyfriend in Philadelphia, almost two years previous, and as the months and then the years passed by, Joyce felt more and more distant from the sister she grew up with. It was beginning to feel like eons had passed since they would spend all their days together, playing dolls and dress-up in that exact bedroom, performing plays for the neighborhood kids in the backyard or riding their bikes downtown to go try on perfume and makeup at the five and dime.

Joyce was still a little miffed at Stella for running off and leaving her behind with their mother and not taking Joyce with her when she left. It didn't seem fair that she had to stay when she was the baby -- the baby with the most responsibility -- the one who ended up making sure Ma didn't go completely off the rails, dependent on the bottle again or running off with a third husband. The resentment Joyce still carried always made her forget just how much she missed having her big sister around and how much she still needed her.

Stella looked up from her duffle bag and saw Joyce standing there, looking at her with big, red-rimmed eyes.

"Sorry Ma skipped town. I'm glad you're home," Joyce said, meaning it.

Stella's frown melted, and she dropped the clothes in a heap, patting the bed beside her.

"I am too. Now tell me what's wrong."

Joyce sighed deeply.

"Nothing. It's stupid."

"Boys?" Stella asked with a knowing grin.

Joyce sighed again, and her eyes fluttered up to the ceiling, embarrassed at the degree of stupidity she was feeling that very moment. She willed herself not to cry over him.

Stella pushed Joyce's bangs out of her eyes and off her cheeks, where they stuck to pale skin, and gave her little sister a look. But instead of imbibing confidence, it just made Joyce want to cry more.

She made a face and sucked in a breath before letting it all out.

"Karen and I saw Hop behind the bleachers with one of the cheerleaders today at lunch."

Stella's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh. Which cheerleader?"

"Chrissy Carpenter. That bottle blonde bubble-headed... bimbo!"

Joyce glared out the window and across the street at the edge of Hopper's front lawn, the only piece of his house she could see from that angle.

Stella choked back a giggle when she noticed how intensely Joyce was staring.

"Woah. That's some serious alliteration."

"Yeah, well," Joyce grumbled and shrugged. "I'm upset."

Stella went back to emptying out the rest of her bag, but not before throwing her sister a loving look.

"I can see that. But I thought you and Jimmy were just friends?"  

"We are!" Joyce finally dragged her eyes off his house and pouted at Stella before trailing off. "It's just that…"

"Oh come on," Stella said and ruffled Joyce's bangs. "You know you can tell me!"

There was another eye roll from Joyce.

"I just thought that something had changed between us this year. Maybe... Oh, I don't know anymore."

Then she clammed up.

Stella walked over to the window, took out a pack of Slims, and lit one up before opening the window a crack.

"Know what? Spit it out, sis!"

Joyce couldn't look at her older, prettier, more elegant sister, sitting there smoking at the windowsill like some french model who could have any man she wanted -- wrapped around her little finger. Joyce wished she could only look so mod and in charge.

Instead, she felt pathetic for pining after the boy across the street.

"Well," she started, flopping back on the bed, finding it easier to confess without having to worry about seeing the look of judgment cross Stella's face. "He'd been acting weird since we went camping this last summer. Then I realized by the second week of September that he was over here almost every night. At first, he said he needed help with his schoolwork because he really wanted to graduate, and since we're in all the same classes, it made sense, right? But by October, he was coming over for the dumbest reasons, and then I started to think he was gonna ask me to the homecoming dance. Like, I was so sure he was gonna do it. A few times, actually. But it was like he chickened out or something."

Stella held up a hand to pause Joyce there, even though Joyce couldn't see it.

"Waitaminute. Didn't you say on our last phone call that Lonnie Byers asked you out that night?"

"Yep, and what a date that was." Joyce rolled her head to the side and looked at her sister with a scowl.

Stella smirked, tapping the end of the cigarette out over the eaves.

"I warned you about him."

"Yeah yeah, I know: 'Lonnie Byers is scum.' But I'm pretty sure we're talking about Hop here?"

"Pardonne Moi! Please... continue."

"So, he seemed a bit distant after homecoming, but he'd still come over to study sometimes, and I'd catch him staring at me. It almost looked like he wanted to kiss me or something. And one day during gym, he told me I looked pretty when I knew for a fact I was a sweaty, frizzy mess. I guess it got in my head because I started to think, well maybe I want him to kiss me. And maybe I like him too? I was gonna tell him this weekend. I had it all planned out. But then he runs off and swaps spit with Chrissy, and now here I am, crying over a dumb boy. Stupid, stupid me."

Stella put the last bit of the cigarette out and moved back to the bed, pushing Joyce's legs out of the way.

"Not stupid," she said. "Just young and in love."

Joyce sat up on her elbows, nose turned up in protest.

"Gross. I am not!"

"You are." Stella chuckled.

Joyce frowned as she slowly realized her sister was right and succumbed to her lovesick fate.

"I am, aren't I?"

"'Fraid so, my dear."

"Cripes -- this sucks!”

"Oh, don't worry." Stella smiled. "I know just the thing to fix a broken heart! Ma might not be around but we can still have fun. What’s say we stay up late, paint our nails, eat our way through an entire tub of ice cream and I can give you some pointers for when you find yourself a real man. You'll be over that silly Hopper boy in no time."

"But what if I don't want to be over him?" Joyce whined, feeling sick for even thinking it let alone admitting it out loud. He was her best friend, since before they could walk, and those feelings had remained strictly platonic but lately, she couldn't imagine being without him, let alone sharing him with anyone else. Especially bottle blonde bubble-headed bimbos.

Stella held her hand out to Joyce and helped her sit up.

"Trust me, sis. It's for the best. Boys like Jim and Lonnie will ruin you for life. You belong with someone sweet and kind, who won't rush you before you're ready…"

Joyce scoffed.

"Boys like that don't exist!"

"Sure, they do!" Stella nodded. Then she had an idea. "Say -- isn't there a Sadie Hawkins soon?"

"Yeah, the Snowball," Joyce said, cluing in, trying not to look too excited. "You think I should ask Hop?"

"No!" Stella sighed. "I'm saying you should ask a nice boy to go with you."

"A what?"

"Think of the nicest, and well... let’s say the nerdiest guy in your class, and ask him to the Snowball. Not Lonnie or Hop! No more bad boys who play ping-pong with your heart."

"No, no way!" Joyce shook her head and dove headfirst into the pillows. "I am not asking Bob the Brain!"

Stella threw her hands up in the air.

"Fine, be miserable and alone forever then. See if I care!"

"Fine!" Joyce shouted, muffled by the pillows before dissolving into a fit of giggles as her sister beat her over the head with another frilly embroidered pillow.

"I'm glad you're home," Joyce said when she caught her breath.

"Me too, sis," Stella said. "Me too."

#anon #asks #fanfiction #jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #teen!jopper #highschool jopper #winona ryder #helena bonham carter

[s-oulpunk]

kaspbrough: eddie’s late to class and his long time crush bill suddenly decides it’s a good day to spill his milkshake all over that cute angry boy in his calc class

Anon I LOVED writing this, it ended up being so soft🥺

-----

Eddie Kaspbrak is a good student.  He turns all his homework in on time, he gets straight A’s, and, most importantly, he’s not late.  Ever.  Sure, he misses a lot of school, but that’s hardly his fault.  Mama says he’s sick, and if he has to do his homework from the hospital bed, then that’s exactly what he’ll do.

But, back to the point.  Eddie’s never late.  He takes extra measure to ensure it.  Three alarms, clothes picked out the night before, bike ready to go in the garage.

Except for today.

Today he sleeps through his alarms.

Today he loses his socks halfway through getting dressed.

Today his bike has a flat tire.

So now he’s running to school, already fifteen minutes late, and barely halfway there.  He’s not supposed to be running, he knows that.  He knows if his mother ever found out, he’d be stuck in the hospital all weekend.

But he also knows he’s not supposed to be late.  Besides, it feels kind of good to run.  It’s not something he usually gets to experience.  And he’s going so fast.  He doesn’t think he’s ever gone this fast without his bike.  Scratch that, he’s never gone this fast in his life.

Mama doesn’t let him ride at a pace faster than a walk, and she’s always the slowest car on the road whenever they take a trip to the local hospital or grocery store.

But when he runs, he can feel the wind scratch against his face and the pavement disappear beneath his feet.  It’s exhilarating.

At least, it’s exhilarating until he turns the corner into the school parking lot and runs smack dab into another student.  And not just any student.

“Fff-Fuck, are you alright?”

Baseball star Bill Denbrough.

Bill Denbrough, who won the game three weeks in a row.

Bill Denbrough, who Eddie’s been in love with since the sixth grade.

Bill Denbrough, who’s staring down at him because Eddie’s currently laying flat on his back, sharp gravel digging into his back, as he wonders why his torso is suddenly freezing.

“Holy shit, I’m so ss-suh-sorry.”

Turns out, he’s freezing because Bill’s double chocolate chip milkshake is currently all over him.  Eddie frowns at the sticky mess as he sits up, his frown quickly turning into a grimace when the milkshake starts to drip down his stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” Bill continues to ramble. “I dd-duh-didn’t see you coming.  Are you oh-okay?  I’m sorry about yuh-your shirt.  Will it wash out?  Oh, fuck.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie grumbles, ignoring the hand Bill offers as he stumbles to his feet. “Jesus, who drinks a milkshake at eight in the morning?”

Bill flushes red. “Is there a time limit to when I can enjoy a mm-muh-milkshake?”

“Yes!” Eddie snaps. “You shouldn’t drink it at all, do you have any idea how unhealthy it is for you?”

Bill shrugs. “It’s milk.”

“It’s...It is not just milk!” Eddie yelps, gaping openly.

“Look,” Bill says, and Eddie supposes maybe he should feel a little bad for snapping at the guy, “I’m really sorry about your shirt.  If I can - Oh!  You can have my jj-juh-jacket if you want?  It’s not the same, but it’ll help cover some of the stains!”

“What - No, that’s okay,” Eddie says, but Bill’s shoving the jacket into his hands before he can even finish the sentence. “I can just wear my gym shirt.”

Bill pulls a face. “That’s gross.  It’s all ss-swuh-sweaty and stuff.”

“Well I washed it!  Do you not wash your gym clothes!”

“I’ll get it from you in calculus!” Bill says.  And Eddie can’t argue, because he’s already disappeared halfway across the parking lot.

-

Wearing Bill’s jacket is - and Eddie would never admit this - very exciting.

Bill’s relatively short, but the jacket’s still a little big on Eddie.  It’s a dark maroon color, per school colors, and has Bill’s last name in big, bold letters across the back.  Eddie can feel the stares from his peers throughout the day, can hear the whispers behind his back.  It puts him on edge, but Bill’s jacket - despite being the source of the attention - acts as a sort of force field.  As if nothing can hurt him while he has it on.

Eddie sits at the front in every single class.  Bill usually sits somewhere in the middle, somewhere he can pay attention without drawing too much attention to himself.  But today, Bill plops himself down right next to Eddie and grins at him expectantly.

“Thank you for the jacket,” Eddie says softly.

“You’re welcome,” Bill says. “Sorry I sp-spilled my milkshake on you.”

Eddie ducks his head, suddenly all-too-fascinated by the empty pages of his notebook. “Yeah, well, sorry I was a dick to you.”

Bill smiles softly. “That’s okay,” he says, which only makes Eddie feel worse.  Why is he so nice? “I would buh-be mad too.”

Cautiously, Eddie glances back up.  When he’s sure it’s safe, when all he can see is Bill’s blinding grin, he turns to face him completely.

“I can buy you another milkshake,” he offers.

If possible, Bill grins wider, “Like a dd-duh-date?”

Eddie balks. “No!  No, not - not like that.  Just - Just as an apology.  Because I - I spilled your milkshake.  Remember?”

“Oh.  I - Uh - Yeah.  Th-That’s okay, dude.  It’s, ll-luh-like, three bucks.  I can - Just - Don’t worry about it.”

Bill doesn’t talk to him for the rest of class.

-

That Friday, Bill has a baseball game.  Eddie knows because he has one every week.  Every week, Eddie tries to convince his mom to let him go.  Every week, the answer is emphatically no.

But this week is going to be different.  Eddie has to be there.  Because Bill had asked him exactly what Eddie had been dreaming he would ask for years, and what did Eddie do?  He fucked it up.  And now he has to find a way to un-fuck it up.

He waits, practically vibrating with nerves, until his mom falls asleep.  By the time she does, Eddie doesn’t even know if the game is still going.  But he has to try, he’ll be damned if he misses his chance.  So he pulls on his shoes, hops out his bedroom window, and runs.

Luckily, when he gets there, the game is not over.  At least, Eddie doesn’t think it is.  He doesn’t know anything about baseball - his mother was never big on sports - but there are still players on the field.  In fact, Bill’s currently up to bat.

Eddie lingers awkwardly by the bleachers.  Should he cheer?  Should he sit down?  He has no idea what the protocol for baseball is.

The pitcher throws the ball.  Bill swings.

No contact, strike one.

Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet as Bill gets back into position.

C’mon, Bill, he finds himself thinking. I know you can do it.

The pitcher throws the ball again.

Bill misses, strike three.

Even in the dark, Eddie can see Bill starting to get frustrated.

You can do it, Eddie thinks. Don’t give up.

The pitcher throws the ball a third, and final, time.

Bill hits it with a thunk and, before Eddie can even comprehend what’s happening, he’s racing through the bases.

His peers in the bleachers go crazy, shrieking and cheering, but Eddie’s shocked silent.  He’s heard about this moment over and over again, but seeing it is entirely different.  Simply watching him is intoxicating.  Eddie can go fast, but Bill’s faster.

Seeing Bill so in his element, Eddie can see why the school fawns over him.

Bill’s heading towards home base now, and it’s pure speed that’s going to get him there.  The ball is being passed through the players, getting scarily close to the catcher, at an alarmingly fast rate.

Eddie nearly shrieks when Bill suddenly drops to the ground, but then he’s sliding through the dirt and landing back at home base merely moments before the ball is thrown to the catcher.

Eddie can only assume they’ve won after that, because everyone starts screaming and Bill’s receiving hugs and claps on the back from his teammates.  A kid bolts past Eddie, racing straight into Bill’s arms, and Bill squeezes him tight, as if he's his lifeline.

He looks so happy, Eddie nearly turns around and goes home.  But then they make eye contact and Eddie knows there’s no turning back now.  Still, his nerves grow a little bit stronger with each step Bill takes towards him.

“Hey,” Eddie says, wincing at how shaky his voice sounds.

“Hey, Eddie,” Bill says. “I didn’t know you ww-wuh-were coming.”

“Eddie,” the kids repeats in a high pitched, nasally voice.  Eddie doesn’t have to hear much more to know the kid’s not his biggest fan at the moment.

“Georgie,” Bill hisses. “Stop th-that.” Georgie huffs. “Can wuh-we have a minute?”

Georgie stares pointedly at Eddie. “That milkshake better be for him,” he says, before disappearing back into the thick of the crowd.

“Sorry about him,” Bill says. “He just started jj-juh-junior high.  You know how it is.”

Eddie laughs, but it’s more out of nerves than anything else, because he doesn’t know how it is.  He didn’t have friends in middle school, and his mother would be damned if he became anything less than her perfect little boy because of something as silly as puberty.

“This - Uh - This is for you, actually,” Eddie says, holding the milkshake out awkwardly.

“Oh.” Bill looks so touched, Eddie kind of wants to laugh. “Thank you, yuh-you didn’t have to do that.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s just a milkshake.”

“Still,” Bill says as he gently takes it from Eddie’s outstretched hand, “That’s sweet.”

Eddie’s thankful it’s dark, because his face is bright red. “It’s nothing really.  You - Um - you did great out there.”

Bill lights up, as if he didn’t have the whole school screaming for him. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you!”

“I also - Um - I also wanted to ask if you, maybe, wanted to go on a date with me?”

Bill beams around the milkshake straw. “Seriously?”

Eddie nods furiously. “And - And I’m sorry, for saying no at first.  You scared me.”

Bill barks out a laugh. “I scared yy-yuh-you?”

“Yes, shut up!  Now what’s your answer!”

“Yes!” Bill grins. “Yes, I would love to!”

#kaspbrough #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #IT fanfic #IT fanfiction #stanley uris #richie tozier #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #beverly marsh

[richiethedicktozier]

|| in a combination of many prompts, i present: great best friend eddie kaspbrak helping upset (and secretly pining) richie tozier post- arcade assault. ||

What could Richie say, going home that afternoon?

Hey Mom. Hey Dad. I got called a fa-- this new word today. Yeah, I’ve heard it before but hearing it as my name sounds different. It feels different.

How about to his friends?

I know we aren’t exactly talking right now, but Bowers just fucking ran into me at the arcade and-- hey! shut up and listen-- GUYS! He asked if I was trying to bone his cousin.

What about himself?

God what a fucking idiot, you looked too long. The way you looked at him. The way you touched his hand. You should have let him go. He’s not your friend. He’s not your friend. He’s not like you, not a disgusting and worthless loser with a perverted secret. What a fucking trashmouth. Filthy mouth thinking and saying filthy things...

One thing Richie never prepared for, was having to tell Eddie. Just Eddie, alone on his front steps. Granted, he didn’t have to tell him anything, but with Eddie it was like Richie’s already running mouth suddenly would attempt a marathon.

“Why are you sitting still? Are you dead or something?” Eddie laughed, already walking up the pathway to Richie’s house. Richie gave him the finger, his words still strangled in the back of his throat. It burned like he was still trying to run. “Most of us are at the clubhouse, maybe going to the quarry later. Why are you here? You hate being at home.”

“Tired.” Richie muttered, adjusting his glasses. “Long afternoon.”

“It’s fucking two.”

“Yeah.”

“Richie, what the fuck? Are you high or something?” Eddie reached up and shoved Richie’s head down, moving his glasses again. “Did you smoke in your house?”

Richie wished he was high, or something to make the harsh air hissing in his lungs feel more like a pillow than a brick blanket.

“No, fuckface. I didn’t. You think Wentworth is at least an iota of cool to fucking smoke?” Richie snapped, pushing Eddie’s hands away. “I’m just sitting.”

“That’s stupid. Sit in the clubhouse with us.” Eddie laughed, grabbing his wrists. Richie refused and Eddie’s grip soon slipped into Richie’s hands.

We don’t like our town being filled with a bunch of fucking fa--

“I’m not going! Just shove it, Eds. I want to sit here.” Richie yelled, yanking his arms back. Their hands pulled apart with a snap, their fingers clinging together.

Eddie blinked at him. “We have a hammock.” He said plainly. “Sit in it with me. Come on, Rich. What the fuck.”

“I said no!” Richie shouted. It was the only thing he could openly deny with Eddie. Everything else was involuntary-- the sweating, the blushing, the need to make him laugh, the need to annoy him, the need to see him-- the least Richie could do was push away those things he could control. Give himself a half a chance to be normal.

Eddie moved Richie’s legs and sat on the step below him. He placed his arms on Richie’s knees, looking up at him the way Richie always imagined people in love did. He nudged his glasses and blurred his vision.

“What happened today?” Eddie was asking like a parent-- or maybe a concerned girlfriend or something. Well no, he was asking like Eddie. Like a great friend, a companion.

A boyfriend, really.

No. No. No. No. No.

"I got run down by Bowers today.” Richie sighed, looking at his hands. “Chased me all the way to the park.”

“Oh fuck-- Why did he do that? I mean, not that the bastard ever has a good reason to do any of his boneheaded bullshit, but where were you when he found you?” Eddie was asking because he was concerned, but Richie began to hear his father’s echo in his voice. Asking what he was doing, where he was going, what did he say to ask for the bullying.

“Just the arcade.”

“Oh.” Eddie groaned. “Fuck that guy. He’s so fucking stupid-- looks a like a weasel, have you ever noticed that? He’s got that really like thin fucking face that just--”

“He called me a faggot.” Richie said, point-blank.

Eddie’s words died, his mouth hanging open as if new ones would just appear. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Richie thought by that point he’d be crying-- like a fucking girl-- but instead, he was just cold. His throat was stale and his tongue was heavy. The truth was the truth, huh?

“Wanna get ice cream?” Eddie said suddenly, sitting back. “Come on, I got a crisp ten that’s got a double scoop of gross ass mint-chocolate chip with your name all over it, Rich.”

“No, I don’t know if--”

“I just offered to buy you ice cream that is easily the grossest flavor. You don’t get to argue! Just fucking get up and grab your bike.” Eddie grabbed Richie’s hands again and yanked him up.

They both nearly toppled over; the taller one of them shouldn’t have been on the higher step. Richie clung to Eddie’s hands and stumbled down the walkway. Even after telling Eddie the truth, he hadn’t tried to avoid touching him-- his hands.

“W-Wait, where’s your bike?” Richie asked, pulling away and wiping his palms on his shorts.

“I walked. We live like, a few blocks apart.”

“Yeah but we’re going downtown.”

“Yeah.”

“Where is your bike?”

“Richie.” Eddie laughed, and pointed at Richie’s bike on its side in the grass. “You have pegs.”

“You’re gonna ride on my bike. With me?” Richie tried to sound possessive. Of the bike, that is.

“Yeah, come on. Don’t be so w--” Eddie stopped and chewed his lip. Don’t be weird. Richie had no say in it; he’d tried. “Don’t be scared-- I’m not gonna die or anything. We won’t tell my mom.”

“Okay. Sure.” Richie said. Oh, this was a bad idea.

And it sure fucking was. Richie sat on the seat while Eddie stood behind him, arms bracing on his shoulders. He called out into the summer wind, laughing and jostling Richie to try and get him to join. He focused on the road and got them to the ice cream shop in one piece-- two pieces, technically. Two separate boys. Not at all conjoined or comparable to any one, unified person or feeling.

Eddie hopped off Richie’s bike the moment he stopped. The shop had a walk-thru window-- for anyone stupid enough to not want to go into crisp air-conditioning. Which was, of course, both Richie and Eddie. They hated going inside the parlor; large masses of sweaty people covered in sticky syrup and loudly crunching on cones? Richie could already feel Eddie’s skin crawling. Birthplace of food borne, close-contact illnesses.

Eddie ordered as Richie waited by a streetlight, balancing himself and the bike against it. It was still strange-- and maybe a move of pity-- that Eddie was buying him ice cream after he’d admitted the worst thing about himself. With absolutely no denial. Even if it meant that Eddie knew that Richie was gay now, he still only took his word for it after hearing that Bowers had called it out in the middle of arcade.

God. He was disgusting.

“Alright, here we go! One fucking gross double scoop of mint chocolate chip. You know, that’s another reason you’re a trashmouth-- you’ll eat just about anything, huh? Mint? Dude, that’s like eating toothpaste.”

"Hey, at least I can handle a little variety! You only eat vanilla!” Richie laughed, taking the cone from Eddie carefully. “Are you allergic to fucking fun, Eds?”

“Hey! It’s arguably the best flavor!”

“Is fucking not. It’s like eating nothing! It’s flavorless. The base of all other ice creams. It’s like eating ice cream primer.”

“When is the last time you had vanilla?” Eddie said, crossing his free arm over his chest. “I think you need a goddamn refresh, asshole.”

He held the cone out to Richie, eyebrows raised. Richie could see the small dip in the top swirl where he’d already licked.

“No.” Richie said, pushing it away. “I’m not licking your-- not sharing your ice cream, dude. That’s gross. I don’t know where that mouth has been.”

“Says the trashmouth.” Eddie retorted, grabbing the handlebar of Richie’s bike as he wobbled. Richie was trying, by all means, to not drop the cone and speed away. It wouldn’t have escaped any of the things swelling inside of his chest, but at least he could die in solitude.

“Would you just fucking try some?”

“No.”

“Rich, come on. If I’m asking you to share my food, I think it’s okay! I know you don’t have fucking weird diseases-- and I sure as fuck don’t. Just fucking have some.”

“No. I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Eddie echoed Richie with a laugh, but his smile fell. “Richie, come on. You can.”

“No. I-- I think I should get home or something. Wentworth is having a really big hard-on for curfew lately so--”

“You don’t have a curfew.”

“I-- I could.”

“You’ve walked out your front door at eleven at night to go swimming in the quarry with us before.” Eddie said, licking the top of his ice cream again. Richie did the same as if only to try and keep himself from sounding like more of an idiot. “Richie, man, what the fuck is going on? Is everything alright?”

They were on the sidewalk in the middle of the afternoon, any number of eyes possibly staring at them and measuring their distance, watching their expressions, reading their lips. There was nothing Richie could say there. Nothing he would want to.

"Are you deaf? I said that I’m fine.” Richie said, nearly grinding his teeth.

“I’m not blind either!” Eddie said, gesticulating his cone around. “You look like shit.”

Oh, well that was good to hear coming from Eddie. He already knew he was ugly-- that he’d “grow into his looks”, whatever the fuck that meant-- but now he had confirmation that no matter how much “beauty was subjective” or whatever, Eddie thought he looked like shit. Great. Amazing. Fantastic. Best thing he’d heard all fucking--

“I mean like. You don’t look like yourself. Your face is like, gray, man. Like, completely gray. Wiped and exhausted. Is everything alright-- besides the Bowers stuff.” Eddie said.

“Can’t it just be the Bowers stuff?” That was all Richie could hear. Over and over and over and--

A blink. A pause. The acceptance of a secret. “’course it can. Yeah. It can just be him. I mean, the guy’s a total fucking dickwad-- doesn’t fucking know anything.”

“Right? What a douche.”

“A fucking shitpile.”

Richie laughed and it hurt, but in the best way. It was the shattering of something old that had formed. Something he didn’t know had built up. He hadn’t said anything-- hadn’t incriminated himself in any way-- but he was no longer alone. He was safe, but he could still be so with his best friend. It could count as lying if Richie really looked at it closely-- but he didn’t want to. He closed his eyes and breathed slow, trying to pretend he was stopping his laughter rather than any possible tears.

“Wanna go home? Go to the clubhouse?”

“What so you can get spiders in your ice cream?”

"Fuck you.” Eddie said, hitching his leg over the back of Richie’s bike. He wrapped his one arm across Richie’s chest and kept the other at length, ice cream unable to drip on either of them. He rested his chin on Richie’s shoulder. “They probably all went to the quarry by now, so we can just sit-- talk if you want.”

Richie’s feet were on the pedals but he was frozen, nearly toppling them over. “O-Okay.”

“I mean, we don’t have to-- it can be about whatever. Like when you’re gonna get a fucking haircut.” Eddie laughed, spitting out some of Richie’s hair that had curled into his mouth. “Hell, I’ll fucking cut it myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You wouldn’t dare touch me like that-- be so close on your own.

“Snip snip, Richie.” Eddie teased, clapping a hand on his chest. “Come on, let’s go before your Colgate Cone melts down your hand, shithead.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, dickwad.”

“If you don’t start pedaling, I’m going to nose you with this cone.” Eddie teased, faking- out nearly smashing the cone onto Richie’s face. Instead, he reached across Richie’s chest with the arm and licked the cone. It grazed his face, getting a sticky stripe on his cheek and a bit in his hair.

“You’re so bossy when you’re on a sugar high.” Richie said, settling further on the end of his seat, letting Eddie sit on the back.

Richie started pedaling, trying to get out of sight of the sidewalk as quickly as he could. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his smile, but didn’t want anyone to catch him with it-- catch him with Eddie, resting his head against Richie’s.

This time, he wasn’t doing anything. He was just biking when Eddie grabbed him, comforted him. Richie hadn’t done anything wrong, and he could feel the thinnest ray of warmth-- of that summer sun and wind-- cracking through his chest. He could finally breathe.

Bowers was probably right; Richie was exactly what he said he was. But, biking across town to the clubhouse, it was maybe the first time that Richie had ever felt okay about it. Felt good. Felt even the tiniest, vanilla-spotted bit of happiness for it. Maybe Bowers was right, but being there-- being with Eddie and letting himself lean against the comfort of someone safe and silly and sweet-- was too.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier #it writing #reddie fic #to link #prompts

[somebridgesburn]

almost is never enough

2,383 words

loosely inspired by “Details” by the extremely talented Maisie Peters and the mess that apparently is my life

warnings: lots of alcohol, slight mentions of adult content, Shawn kinda being a dick

***

„We might not be something but we sure as hell aren`t nothing“

***

Shawn’s a Grammy – nominee now. Not a Grammy – winner but a nominee nether less.

And he can’t lie, he does feel a little proud when they announce him like that.

She can’t help but raise her eyebrows at him, sitting on the couch with his eyes glued to the TV, grinning to himself. Nerd.

„Feeling a little proud, don’t you?“

He looks startled for a moment when he sees her but then he gives her that big Shawn grin. (and she tries to ignore that thing in her chest, she really does)

He opens his mouth, searching for a cocky reply when another arm slings around Aspen‘s tiny shoulder and whips her into a big bear hug.

„Jo, Aspen! Good to see you, dude!“

He watches Brian and Aspen exchange pleasantries, catch up with a small smile before turning back to the TV.

***

Shawn`s brought a girl.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary, really.

He meets someone, they talk, he brings her along a couple times until he doesn’t.

Aspen figures she doesn’t like this week`s girl. Her hair‘s a little too bleached and her laugh‘s a little too loud. Especially when everyone knows that Shawn’s dad jokes aren’t a tad bit funny.

So she doesn’t understand, she really, really doesn’t, when he doesn’t drop that girl after a week, or a month even.

He actually seems to quite like her.

„Probably just because he finally found someone who laughs at his lame jokes.“

Aspen doesn‘t like the way her voice is laced with bitterness, too, and she‘s relived too see that Ian, who is sitting next to her in the small nook of the bar, either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

***

They’re hanging out at Brian‘s and they are talking girls. Aspen doesn‘t mind it too much. Being in a friend group that mainly consists of boys, it’s only a matter of time until they start talking about who got laid, when, where, by whom

As I said, she doesn’t mind it. It`s gross but entertaining nether less and she loves to tease the boys with it. She doesn’t mind it until they start talking about Shawn.

“Our boy`s pretty happy these days, eh?”, Ian comes up from behind and shakes Shawn`s shoulders.

“No wonder, man. He`s finally getting laid again!”

The guys are laughing as Shawn blushes.

“It`s not like that!”

“C`mon dude, you really wanna tell me you guys haven’t fucked?”, Brian chimes in, “Cause I´m pretty sure I heard you last Saturday.”

More laughter, more blushing. Aspen should take this as her cue to flee into the kitchen. She doesn`t.

“It`s like, yeah, but-”

“See! That`s what I thought, man.”

“We`re not just fucking, man. It`s, she`s... different. She`s something, I guess.

“Yeah, we`ll see about that in a week.”

Ian shakes his head, grinning and Aspen silently prays he`s right for once.

***

He’s not really her ex -boyfriend.

They almost dated in sophomore year but then there was Lauren and then the whole world knew his name and he knew Taylor fucking Swift personally.

So no, he isn’t her ex-boyfriend he just a big, unnerving almost.

***

She likes to watch him, always has. Not in a creepy way but in a way that she notices when his eyes wander around the room, not matching the big grin on his face.

At least she doesn’t have to feel as stupid anymore, now that millions of teenage girls seem to love to do the same thing. Or maybe she feels even more stupid for being the same as those obnoxious fan girls.

She shakes her head, no, she’s not. She doesn’t treat Shawn like some kind of god or follows his every move over Twitter. She just sometimes wishes she could feel his lips on hers again.

***

They’ve kissed a couple times. At some of the house parties they had had, when the guests started to clear out and only they’re close friend group was left, all of them sitting outside, cuddled up in each other.

Or when they were in the club with the bass rattling and sweaty bodies on bodies and tequila being downed like water. All hands, all lips, all over.

Or a lot of other times. (Aspen could name every single one, she’s sure Shawn couldn’t)

***

She is sitting on her bed, eyes glued to the screen in her hands, thumb hovering over that blue button on Shawn’s girl Instagram account. Her name‘s Kendall,  which is just as cliché as her description. She tells herself it’s no big deal, they’re acquaintances after all. Only that Aspen hasn’t exchanged a single word with her, not even when Shawn introduced them.

Still, she knows her favourite brand of cigarettes and what kind of music she listens to and that she thinks self-tan is gross because Shawn can’t shut the fuck up. She hates it, she really does. She also thought about getting him duct tape for Christmas as a warning that the next time he can’t keep his mouth shut himself, she’ll literally tape it shut.

The next time they’re at his place and he tells them Kendall forgot her hair brush there three times in a row, she regrets she didn’t.

She turns off the phone lets herself fall backward in to the mattress. She closes her eyes. Then she sits up again and presses the follow button.

***

Once, they all met up in Toronto. Aspen could smell the summer air and the liquor and Shawn’s jacket on her shoulders as they were roaming through the streets. They were bar hopping or whatever but ended up in a park anyways. Now, they were passing vodka bottles on a playground and Brian and Ian had a competition who could swing higher. Shawn and her had a bet which one would throw up first.

“They stars are pretty.”, she says as she leaned back, feeling the soft grass on her skin.

She was that nice kind of drunk where she was a bit more than tipsy but not completely hammered either.

She didn’t know about Shawn but he doesn’t look as if he’d throw up any time soon either when he laid down beside her with his arm around her.

“You’re pretty”

Before she had time for a sassy reply his lips found hers. It was sloppy and a bit lazy and felt somehow different than the other kisses before. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet.

She doesn’t remember how long they had laid there, on that fucking playground, wrapped up in each other and stealing kisses.

She does remember laying in bed, retracing every single kiss, every single moment moment than once.

***

They were at the bar again. It`s nearby and it`s cosy and it`s got a karaoke machine. It doesn’t happen often that all of them get together, with Shawn being an international pop star and the majority of the others going to college all over the country.

College starts again soon and Aspen is stressed as ever but right here, right now, sitting with her friends in that grubby nook, laughing, it`s perfect.

That one waiter with gelled hair and obviously whitened teeth makes his way to their table again to bring them yet another round of shots, not without giving Aspen a lopsided smirk that made her stomach twist a bit like he had all night.

And then he does something Aspen hasn’t expected for sure. He leans on the table and drapes his arm around the back of her chair. He`s close enough for her to smell his cologne.

„So um, I get off in five. Wanna grab a drink or something?“

He is so desperately trying to look cool, Aspen has to control the urge to laugh, or roll her eyes.

“Nah, thanks, i‘m good actually.”

She doesn´t even really smile at him like she usually would, trying to make it obvious that he should just take the hint. And he does.

The waiter opens and closes his mouth for a moment before giving in, leaving without a word in the end.

“Eyyy, Aspen! Come ON! That waiter was, like, really cute.”

She flincheds when Brian roughly slings an arm around her.

“Really cute, eh?”

“Yeah, dude, like hot, like, really hot, like, you should get his number, man! He was totally flirting with you the whole evening.”

She watches her friend drunkenly gesture with an amused grin.

“Well, if he’s that hot, maybe you should get his number!”

The guys breake out into roaring laughter as Brian openes and closes his mouth, just like the waiter earlier, before raising his hands in surrender.

Aspen laughs with the guys when she meets Shawn’s stare. For the first time in a while, she can’t read his expression.

***

There’s that one Friday night. They were at a club and the ground under her had been spinning for a while now when she pushed open the door to the ladies` restroom. She gripped the sink with her hands. The mirror above her was shattered, she wouldn`t have dare to look into it anyways.

Brooke found her there, head hung over the sink, shallow breaths echoing from the tiles. She pulled her hair back before she realised that no, Aspen wasn’t trying not to throw up, she was trying not to fall apart.

It took Brooke one and a half hours and two bottles of water to figure out that it’s Shawn. Shawn and some blonde he‘d been making out with under the lights.

And usually, it wouldn’t matter, really, Aspen assured her. But maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that last Friday he cradled her in his arm with millions of stars glistening above them and she almost hoped. (she keeps that part to herself though)

She went - Brooke dragged her - home then without saying goodbye and emptied her insides over the toilet bowl until she didn’t feel quite as sick anymore at the thought of Shawn.

She’s said a lot of stupid things that night, half-lying on the dirty tiles. She doesn’t remember a lot but she does remember slurring we might not be something but we’re sure as hell aren’t nothing over and over and over again.

She’s shocked to find she’s never said anything more true.

***

He hasn’t written a song about her, ever. Sometimes she wishes he would, so she could at least have something, a piece of him, a piece of his mind, so she‘d know he thinks about them, too, even a little bit. But he doesn’t.

So she stands and watches him sing about his one night stand to the Rogers Centre, full of screaming girls.

It’s fascinating, really. Most of the time, when she isn’t reminded by the amount of girls he attracts wherever they go or his ridiculously large condo, she forgets that Shawn, the boy who had the same blue pencil case all through Middle- and Highschool and copied her chemistry homework every Tuesday, is actually a pop sensation.

Looking at him now, standing on stage, guitar in his large hands, sweat dripping off his forhead, it’s hard to imagine he ever does anything else.

He kisses Kendall, first thing, when he comes off stage, laughing and sweating, and she hates her a little bit for it.

It’s kind of intoxicating when he hugs her. Her heads spinning, chest’s clenching, cheek‘s are burning. She pulls away, wants to say he’s amazing, she’s never seen anything like that, she’s proud, she -

„You stink.“, she says instead.

He laughs and her head spins a little more.

***

They’re at Ian‘s this time and Aspen is just getting Brooke and herself a refill, when she feels something warm against the small of her back for a moment. She turns around to see Shawn laughing with their friends a few foot away.

She knows this game. It starts with their fingers, hands, shoulders lightly brushing against each other, seemingly accidental. A few shots later, he‘d wrap an arm around her waist, shoulder, hand gripping her hip. He‘d pull her into his lap then, first chance he got, and nuzzle his head into her neck. And then it was only a matter of time until her back was pressed against a wall with his hands on her ass and her tongue in his mouth.

It’s not different tonight and she already feels his breath against her neck and his arm locked around her waist like he‘d actually keep her. And she lets him.

He takes her hand, interlocks their fingers and pulls her with him.

She lets him until she feels a wall against her back and hands behind her neck and lips on hers. Then she pulls away.

“You’ve got a girlfriend.” She`s a little breathless already and she loves and hates it at the same time.

“No, I don’t. Me and Kendall, we’re not like, dating or anything.”

She flinches at the sound of her name.

“But you`re something.”

He hangs his head and she knows she’s won. She doesn’t now if she actually liked to win. It`d be so easy to just give in to him, revel in the feeling of his lips against her neck, it`d be be so, so easy. Okay, no, she doesn’t, not at all, not even a little bit.

But it’s the right thing to do, so she licks her lips and tosses her hair and lifts her gaze to meet his, a strand of his thick curls falling into his face.

„We can’t do this as long as you’ve got someone“

„I know“

But he looks like he really doesn’t.

He doesn’t tell her he’s gonna call it off, whatever he’s got with Kendall, and she knows he won‘t.

For a moment, she wants to tell him, word vomit all of these feelings, these fucking feelings that aren’t even really feelings, that she’s kept, bottled up for far too long but she doesn’t.

She watches him leave, walk through the door, raising the beer in his hand and laughing with their friends as she leans against the wall of the hall, embracing the coolness, focusing on her breathing.

They might be something but they won’t ever be enough anyways.

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes blurbs #angst #shawn mendes fluff

[nosferatyou]

New Tune: Chapter 4 (Jake Kiszka x Reader)

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Moshpits, Rock and Roll, and general dumbassery.

Summary: Two guitarists meet at a Rock Festival, only having a week with each other before they have to return to their own lives. The bond they create is unfeigned and resolute.

I stir awake, in an incredibly uncomfortable position on the.. Couch? A blanket that I definitely don't remember getting was laying on top of me. I look up at the clock to see that it was 1 PM, and let out a groan. I move the blanket off of myself and trudge to the bathroom. I look in the mirror to see what I can only describe as a gremlin. My hair was a rats nest, my makeup had smudged off onto my face, and my clothes were untucked and wrinkled. The weirdest part was the sticky note posted to my forehead. I grabbed it off and scrawled onto it said

 “Y/N, Left to go get coffee even though it's practically the afternoon. Anyways will be back soon. -Jake.

 PS I would've moved you into a better position, but I didn't want to wake you.”

Shit, he’s going to be here any minute, and I look like straight up trash. Going for a different look, I grab a very cut up Black Sabbath shirt (with a plunging neckline), simple high-waisted black shorts, fishnet tights, and finally my docs. I quickly combed out my hair, and applied some darker makeup. By the time I was done I heard a knock at the door, I opened it to reveal a sweaty Jake with two coffees in his hand.

“Ah so you finally woke up?”

“Oh hush it, get in here I need coffee.”

He walks on and hands me the cup before splaying himself out on the couch.

“So what's the plan today.” He asked.

A smile grew on my face, I already had plans for tonight, but now I'm definitely dragging him along.

“Okay so.” I grabbed a seat next to him, practically buzzing with excitement. “Did you see the headliner tonight?” 

“I honestly wasn’t paying attention.” He took another sip of his coffee, still relaxed on the couch.

“Well.. I already planned on doing this since we got here, but this may be a little out of your comfort zone. I don’t know how wild you get.” 

He sat up a little bit, interest peaked.

“And I don't know if the band will be up your alley, but…. Anthrax is playing tonight and they put on some of the most fun shows I’ve ever been to. Anyways I honestly live to be in the pit and was gonna sneak in and have some fun.”

He really doesn’t strike me as the mosh type, but definitely the partying type, so this is all really a gamble.

“You know what, fuck it. The boys and I never went to heavier shows, so I've never moshed, but this place seems as good as any to do it. You also seem like a good mosh pit spiritual guide.”

An even bigger smile grew to my face, and I hopped up off the couch.

“The show starts at 7, that gives us like 5-6 hours of pregame and prep. Up you go, we have work to do.”

I grab his arm and try to pull him off the couch. He just laughs and goes along with it.

“Take me to your bus.”

“Not that im complaining but why?”

“That outfit is completely unacceptable.”

He looked down at himself and then back up to me.

“Wait what, why?”

“Well first off you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and your toes are definitely gonna get squished in those flimsy boots.”

“Hey! They aren’t flim-”

I grabbed his hand again and dragged him off the bus.

“Lets go, Rockstar. Lots of work to do.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He suddenly stopped me before entering the bus, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m going to be frank with you. They are weird as fuck, especially Sam and Josh, but seriously, watch out for Sam. He’s especially weird.”

I laugh and mimic his hand on my shoulder with my own on his. 

“This’ll be fun then, I'm sure we will get on just fine. “

“Alright, Y/N. Just wanted to let you know ahead of time.”

“Whatever you say, Rockstar.”

I open the door and waltz up the stairs to see an odd scene to say the least. Josh, who I had met nights before, was sitting on the couch playing guitar. It seemed like his first time, but two tall boys were standing over him. One yelling at josh, and very aggressively might I add, trying to fix his positioning. The other was trying to calmly explain it to him, the two boys both breaking their instructions with bickering between the two of them.

“Josh, darling, just use your thumb to steady your hand on the neck. Barre chords are 100% easier that way.”

The two taller boys whipped their attention over to me, but Josh just tried what I suggested instead. He produced a much clearer sound and gleefully yelled because of it, then looked up to me.

“Y/N! Thank you, darling. These two imbeciles couldn't pick a way to teach, and it was nothing but confusion.”

Shortly after Jake clomped up the stairs, taking a place next to me. Josh quickly ran over to his twin to seemingly go in for a hug, instead all Jake got was a hefty punch in the arm.

“You bastard, where have you been?”

Jake rubbed his arm and said “Well we went out for a little smoke sesh and then fell asleep on her bus by accident. Sorry man.”

Josh raised his eyebrows in surprise then said, “Ohhh, well that's all you had to say, little brother. We get it.”

“Don’t be gross, Josh. There is a lady here. Plus I’m only five minutes younger, we've been over this.”

I suddenly burst in.

“By all means, Josh. Be gross. I could barely be described as a lady.”

“She already loves me, Jakey.”

He just let out a sigh and said “Don't forget about the others. This is Sam, the actual little brother” 

Sam stuck out his hand and gave me a firm handshake. “I feel like this friendship between us will stick.”

“Very bold, Sam. I completely agree.”

Jake continued. “And this is Danny, not blood related, but is basically family.”

He also went in for a handshake, this one a bit softer.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

“Pleasures all mine.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The boys and I instantly hit it off the bat, maybe it's my chaotic personality, or maybe it's theirs. Either way they grew very comfortable around me quickly, and so did I. Jake was a bit more laid back, he mostly just watched us all interact with a smile on his face. It was oddly endearing. 

By that point it was Six and they helped us pregame for the night ahead. Many beers and a couple shots in, and Josh and I were in a heated game of the floor is lava. Well we were but that was until Sam grabbed the chair out from underneath me, causing me to fall onto the couch. Which poor Jake happened to be sitting on, so I partially crushed him, but we were all so tipsy that both of us didn't care. I was too comfortable to move, forgetting about the game.

“Danny, my love. What's the time?”

He checked his watch and said “About 6:30”

I sat up from my reclined position on Jake’s lap and yelled “Shit!”

I quickly got up and yanked Jake up a well, causing him to spill some of his beer.

“We gotta get you better shoes or else your toes are gonna be crushed.”

He laughed and started to push me to the back of the bus. “Well we can't have that can we?”

He led me to a tiny closet near the bunks where he stored his clothing. His shoes were also haphazardly stuffed in there as well.

“Damn this is how you live?”

“Is it not the same for you?”

“You got me there, Rockstar.”

  I looked through all of them, stopping on a bright red pair for a moment because they were just so damn fun. But tucked away were some older and heftier leather boots. I grabbed them and stuffed them into his hands. 

“Did you bring any normal shirts? Cause button ups won't do, man. Gotta have room to move.”

“Yeah I think I have an old Zeppelin shirt back there somewhere.” He said motioning back towards the closet. 

I found it and threw it over to him. I turned around to face him staring at me with an indistinguishable look on his face.

“What are you waiting on? I'm not gonna help you, go get dressed and lets go.”

“Aw what a shame.” He teased.

He dumped his stuff into his bunk before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. My eyes slightly widened, and heat rose to my face. I coughed and pulled out my phone as a distraction. A multitude of texts from Sam, my boyfriend, as usual. I ignored them and simply stared at my homepage, just trying to direct my attention from the very tanned shirtless man in front of me. 

He tapped my shoulder, pulling me out of my haze.

“Ready to go, little bird?”

“Ready, Rockstar.”

We said our quick goodbyes to the boys before heading off. Josh quickly called out behind us, “Don’t lose an ear!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In our drunken state we tried and failed, many times, to hop the fence to the venue. The pit was much harder than expected to get to. Jake tried to lift me over, I tried to lift him over, all ended with one of us almost crushing the other. We were hot, sweaty, and about to miss our chance to join in the fun. Well that was until Jake thought of a different plan of action.

“Y/N!”

I had my hands joined together to grab his foot and lift him up the metal slats, I about dropped him when he yelled my name. Putting all my strength into lifting him, concentrating on a response was hard but I choked out,

“Jesus, Jake. Don’t do that or I’ll drop you again. What is it?”

He scrambled out of my grasp and almost took me down with him.

“I have the best idea I’ve ever thought of.”

“I doubt th-”

He cut me off and grasped my shoulders, shaking me as he spoke.

“We can just jump into the pit!”

I swatted his hands off of me and said

“We’ve been trying that for 20 minutes, dumbass.”

“No!” 

He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me toward backstage.

“We are artists, we just go to the wings backstage, sneak onto the stage real fast, jump off into the pit, then join in!”

“Oh my god that is the best idea you've ever had!”

“I know!”

At this point we were in a full on sprint towards the venue, people were giving some strange stares, but we were way too drunk to notice nor care.

We finally reached the inside, laughing as we ran through, navigating through crew members and roadies. When we reached the edge of the wings we stopped for a moment to catch our breath, we both looked at each other for a moment. A look of excitement and adrenaline crossed his face, and i'm sure mine as well.

“Ready, Rockstar?” I asked.

“Let’s go, motherfucker!”

We both ran onto the stage, jumping off the ledge into the space between the barrier and stage. The people at the barrier very quickly noticed us, all very confused by our actions.

“Help me over!” I yelled to them, holding out my hands.

A couple of men grabbed me and lifted me over, I quickly thanked them and looked back over to Jake, still inbetween.

“What are you doing? Get over here!”

He laughed and lifted himself over, pushed close next to me.

“This is quite tight!” He yelled.

“What’d you expect?”

He just shrugged his shoulders and leaned onto the barrier. 

“Oh no, Rockstar. This isn’t where we will be.”

He gave me a puzzled look, and I simply responded by grabbing his hand and dragged him away from our spot. I took us deeper into the pit, more and more to the middle. Both of us tightly pressed up against each other. The band wasn’t on stage yet, but the crowd was buzzing with excitement.

“You nervous?”

He looked excited, very drunk, but obviously a bit hesitant about it all.

“A bit. I have a feeling the moment it starts i'll fit right in.”

“Good! It'll be-”

The crowd erupted into cheers and we both looked up to see the band entering the stage. I looked back over to Jake, who’s nervous demeanor had increased substantially. I grabbed his hand, and he looked over to me. He squeezed my hand in response, a smile appearing on his face.

“Don’t let go until you feel ready.. Or if we literally get torn apart.” I yelled to him, barely audible. 

“Oh jesus.”

Jakes POV

For the first couple of songs the crowd stood still, well not still, but what I assume is still for this crowd.  The music was loud, really loud, and gritty, but the lead guitarist was damn good. Had a clean tone for the genre. It definitely wasn't my crowd, that's for sure, it was a lot of very tall men in tank tops, all older than you'd expect. Y/N definitely stuck out in the crowd. Though she was very much in her element, Dancing with the others, getting a bit rowdier than the rest actually. She knew how to hold her ground in a group like this no doubt about. The music definitely not what I ever ventured into, but I definitely could appreciate it. The band was having fun on stage and messing around, something i'm definitely no stranger to.

 Then the band introduced the song “Indians” and all hell broke loose. Y/N’s grip tightened on my hand.

“Get Ready!” She yelled.

The guitars harmonized with a simplistic riff, no other instruments joining in, but boy when they did, the fun began. People around me started to basically push and shove me, basically just running their bodies into me. Jumping into each other and me, Y/N jumped into me at one point. It was tamer than expected, Y/N Joined them as well, pushing into me and jumping into others. It was definitely something I could have handled, I don't know why she hyped it up so much. Everyone took a mutually agreed upon break during the chorus and second verse. Still pushing but just keeping to their spots. Y/N had a huge smile on her face, and looked over to me, her hair wild and her face flushed. 

She leaned over to me and tried to yell, “Get ready!”

“Get Ready? Wasn’t that the mosh?”

She threw her head back and laughed before returning to her space. The singer screamed “War Dance!” and the crowd lost it. They were jumping into everyone basically using shoulders and elbows to bounce off of each other.  I felt my arm jerk and I looked over to Y/N, and everyone in front of her was.. Running? She tightened her grip and started running with them, and in town, I was dragged along. They all were basically running in a circle in dancing, screaming the lyrics to the song. When we got into a groove something in me grooved with it and I lost every nervous feeling in body. I let go of her hand and ran next to her, jumping into her at some points. She threw her head back with laughter and reciprocated by almost pushing me over. At some point we stopped running, but we slammed and jumped into each other until the song was over. And by that point I was so out of breath it burned.

“Holy shit.” I breathed out.

As the show went on the more into it I got and the more wild Y/N got. Alcohol still very present in our systems, along with adrenaline. Y/N screamed the lyrics with everyone and danced all night, causing a ruckus with the neighboring people, and of course I joined in.

She suddenly clamped her hand on my shoulder in the middle of the song “Antisocial”, surprising me.

“Jake! I have my phone on me, but if I don't make it out, we meet where we jumped in!”

“Don't make it back?” I yelled in confusion.

“Don’t worry ill be right back!”

She leaned over to the taller guys next to us and did her best to talk to them. They both high fived her and she grabbed onto their shoulders. They grabbed her legs and lifted her, passing her forward. The people in front of us very quickly took notice and passed her along. She was having the time of her life, yelling and milking her performance. I would be lying if I didn't say she was cool as fuck, and that I didn't envy her lust for life.

The guy next to tapped my shoulder and yelled “Dude your girlfriend is dope as hell!”

I simply responded “Don't I know it.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s POV 

Eventually I did make my way back to Jake, it just took me awhile to push through, and not get distracted by the crowd, as nice as it was to get recognized, I was worried he got swept away.

I found him attempting to headbang with the guys who helped me crowd surf, it was honestly cute to watch. 

“I lived, Bitch!”

He stopped and locked eyes with me, the already huge smile on his face grew bigger, 

“I don't want this to end!” He yelled, grabbing me and sweeping me back into my old spot.

“Well I’m sad to inform you we probably have one more song left, Rockstar.”

He gave me an over exaggerated frown and threw his arm around my shoulder and said 

“Well I guess that means we have to make it count!”

“I guess it does!”

The crowd gave too much energy in too early on and tried to  put everything into the last song, but it didn't compare to earlier. All of our bodies heavy, our breath hard, and sweat was everywhere. Compared to earlier, Jake now looked like a pro. Pushing everyone around him, keeping his balance, a huge smile stuck on his face. Near the end of the song I was completely exhausted and my balance is getting harder and harder to keep. They guy next to me just about pushed me over, except Jakes torso kept me from getting very far. He quickly caught me and wrapped his arms around me looking down at me, stopping for a brief moment. I looked up and our eyes met, our faces were closer than expected, our noses practically touching. The both of us not attempting to move away. Heat rose to my cheeks and I held my breath, unable to move. The relentlessness crowd was ever moving though, and the guy in front of us knocked the two of us into the men behind us, moving us from our position. 

“Well that was close, you almost took me down there.” He laughed, relieving the tension.

“You wish, Rockstar.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk back to my trailer was silent, it wasn’t a bad silence, just contempt. We both just felt oddly comfortable around each other, and could just live in the moment, not having to force conversation. Comfortable silence is rare, and you've met someone truly special if that can be achieved. Even though it was last night i'm still confused as to how he got me to open up. I make it seem like i’m open with people, joke about my insecurities so they can’t hold them against me. Rarely does anyone ever see past that. I haven't even gotten the chance to throw those jokes around, I haven’t felt like I needed to around him. I've known him all of three days and he makes me feel something. I don't know what it is, its past romantic or platonic, I guess I just feel some sort of kin to him. That scares me. 

We were in no rush, taking as much time as we wanted on the walk back. The both of us occasionally just staring at the sky. Crickets and a seldom guitar could be heard, bouncing from bus to bus. A different tune from each player, and even if it was 11, they all seemed to be saying goodnight. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jake glancing at me every so often. When I turned my head to look at him he just stopped trying to hide it. A small smile played at his lips and the stars almost reflected in his eyes. He seemed at peace. Still, I could see that he had a question he wanted to ask playing through his mind. 

“What's on your mind, Rockstar?” I asked.

He seemed taken aback that i’d noticed.

“Oh uh, I was just thinking of asking if maybe you'd like to join me and the boys during practice tomorrow? I mean we played last night, but I what to see what you can really do.” He paused for a moment, a smirk appearing on his face. “Plus I can finally Woo you with my guitar playing. Gets all the ladies.” He finished off his sentence by very animatedly wiggling his eyebrows.

“You wish, I've been playing since I was three, bet you I can do everything you can, and then some.” 

“You're on, little bird. You don't know what you're getting yourself into. Lets just say i’ve been playing for a little while.”

“You don't even know what you're getting yourself into.” I mimicked the smirk he gave me and said “Gets me all the ladies.”

He cocked an eyebrow in confusion “ You're taken.”

“Well when I wasn't… Let's just say I never had a shortage of fun.”

“Ooh look at you go.”

I just simply laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder, both of us returning back to our silence. My bus seemed to have snuck up on us because suddenly we were standing at the door. I reached for the door handle, stepping away from him.

“Wait.” He said suddenly, grabbing my hand.

I turned to him seeing that same expression as before, he had something to say.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching for something in mine. I almost waited for him to step closer to me. He didn’t.

“No goodnight for me then?”

I stepped closer and left a lingering kiss on his cheek. He froze for a moment before relaxing under my touch.

I leaned in and whispered “Goodnight, Rockstar.” in his ear.

I moved away turning away for him to reach for the door again, opening it as quietly as I could. His hand slipped out of mine and I stepped onto the bus, but before I closed the door I turned around one more time. His eyes softened when they met mine, and a smile played on his lips.

“Goodnight, Little Bird.” He said softly, before turning around and walking away, humming a familiar tune.

Chapter 5

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fics #can we get a reblog this time #or at least one thats not for me #god i wish that were me

[tommybaholland]

Working Hard Or Hardly Working? | tom holland x reader

(beefcake bby image is not mine)

Summary: the one where you’re struggling with working on your body, but tom isn’t far behind

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: body image issues, swearing, the fluffiest shit ive written in a min

———————————

“3, 2, 1 REST…”

“Next up, spiderman plank!” 

You groaned as the automated voice instructed you to assume the position. And yet, you proceeded to push through the exercise in hopes that one day, it would be easier. But for right now, you sigh and grunt through every tense muscle and that ache in your lower back.

Tom watched you from a few feet away as he was doing a cooldown run on the treadmill. He has to admit, he was a bit amused with your frustration at the gym. You both used to exercise together, but lately you’ve been preoccupied with this app that tells you what to do, and you do it. You had gotten a head start getting back to the gym after the premiere of Far From Home and downloaded it to help give you direction on what to do for what you wanted to work on. And for you, it was probably the best thing you did. 

Also the fact that Tom is one of the most competitive people you’ve ever met. 

That didn’t bother you, usually. 

But he couldn’t help but notice your attitude at the gym has changed since the press tour ended. You’d been wanting to do your own routine more often, only offering to warm-up and sometimes cooldown routines with Tom. So he allowed you to do your own thing, and would on occasion tease you with, 

“S’okay babe, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle my routine anyway,” while flexing his muscles, which you knew has become thicker and more defined since before Far From Home had begun shooting. 

He honestly couldn’t complain though, watching you and that ass throw down some squats had never been better.

Other than you doing your own thing at the gym, you also seemed more aggressive with the workouts. When you and Tom first came to the gym together, you would just do some cardio on the elliptical or the treadmill and then finish with some yoga. But now you seem more committed and will do HIIT routine after routine and even lift weights some days as well. 

He had also noticed your eating habits had changed drastically as well. He couldn’t remember the last time you had both eaten the same meal. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time you had eaten, in general. You just didn’t seem to want to enjoy the usual things you and him would indulge in lately. He minded wandered to last night, when you turned down a legendary pastime you and him would take part in from time to time. 

“What kind of pizza should we order?”

“Oh, uh, I’m actually not that hungry.”

“What?” Tom questioned in disbelief. “You’re still drinking though, right?”

You shook your head. “No, sorry. I think I’m going to just have water.”

“You’re kidding, right? You love our beer and pizza nights,” Tom replied, in disbelief.

“You can still order it and we can still watch something!” You reiterated. “I’m just––taking a break from pizza and beer.” 

Something seemed off to him. Normally, he just brushed it off, thinking that you missed being active and wanted to catch up. But your mood and behavior didn’t seem right to him. 

Frankly, you didn’t look very happy.

You had finished your last exercise, and were left panting and dripping with sweat. You took a sip of water before getting a disinfectant wipe to wipe down your yoga mat. Tom stepped off the treadmill as you finished cleaning your mat, calling over to you.

“Ready to go soon, love?” 

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, and your muscles felt thoroughly worked, despite that you skipped some exercises or took more breaks during the hard ones. 

As Tom was putting away some of the free weights he has used, you decided to weigh yourself on the scale in the gym. You took a deep breath before stepping on the scale, something you always did, calling it the “moment of truth.” 

Standing up straight and sucking everything in, you looked down at the numbers to see your fate. 

No change. 

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You didn’t gain weight, but nothing had been lost either. You sighed, rubbing over your face and through your sweaty hair before stepping off and putting your shoes back on. 

Grabbing your stuff, Tom rejoined you at the front of the gym, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side, placing a small kiss on your temple. 

He quickly pulled his hand off of your arm, rubbing the excess moisture onto his shirt. 

“You’re quite sweaty,” he chuckled. “A bit smelly, too.” 

You gave him a small chuckle and smile, humoring him. But it wasn’t as big of a reaction as he normally would get from you. 

The ride home was silent between the two of you. Tom posted on his insta story for the thousandth time about Far From Home while you sat in the seat adjacent to him, dealing with your own business.

Leaning your cheek on your hand that was propped up on the window by your elbow, you looked at the graph that the app had created with all the data points you had entered for your weight. 

You tried to weigh yourself everyday, or almost every day, once reading somewhere that people who weigh themselves regularly have more motivation and therefore, lose more weight. You’d been committing yourself to working out everyday and trying to make healthier choices for about a month now and you would’ve thought you’d see a small difference in the numbers. 

But the graph didn’t show that. 

The trend was an absolute mess, with hills and plateaus everywhere. It was disappointing and frustrating to you. And it wasn’t just about looking good,

It was about feeling healthier about yourself. 

It almost made you feel like you weren’t allowed to have that. Tom worked hard and trained enough to make his body “Spider-Man ready” but he was also naturally athletic. His body was practically made to look like that.

You, however, are soft and round with some strong build. It was just extremely hard to get that build to show. 

Upon arriving back to Tom’s apartment, he went straight to the kitchen to make his usual post-workout protein shake, turning to you as you put your water bottle down on the counter. 

“You want one, darling?” 

“Uh, no thanks. I think I’m gonna go shower,” You could feel the redness still on your cheeks. “I feel gross.” 

And it wasn’t just from the sweat. 

Tom nodded, giving you a small smile before you turned and went into his room to grab a change of clothes before walking down the hall to the bathroom to shower. 

Tom could sense that you wanted to be alone, deciding that he shouldn’t join you in the shower like he normally would do. 

You took your sweet time getting clean, mainly focusing on how your body didn’t feel much different as you rubbed body wash over your skin. 

One thing that you and Tom had in common was you both liked the idea of a challenge and would persevere through anything that stretched beyond your normal abilities. That’s why he loved being Spider-Man. He gets to show people what he can really do, even if it takes time, or 40 takes, to get there. 

You’re the exact same way. You never really like repeating the same thing over and over again with work and want to show off your capabilities. Normally you would see this as a challenge and keep trying to see it through to your goal. 

But lately just the thought of perseverance has been the real challenge. 

You wanna just say ‘fuck it’. Some days, you just want to go to the gym and spend time with your boyfriend without being distracted by some app telling you what to do. Some days, you wanna eat all the pizza and drink all the beer you want while watching stupid late night movies with Tom. 

Some days, you just want to give up.

And that’s how you’re feeling right now. 

You knew Tom was catching on to your behavior, especially with eating. You felt ashamed when you had to decline the traditional things you would eat together and drag his spirits down with you. You had to admit, sometimes you would become jealous that he could eat whatever he wanted, and burn it off quickly without a change in his sculpted body. 

It didn’t seem fair to you. 

Getting out of the shower, feeling cleaner, you decided to hop on the scale one last time, completely naked. After taking your habitual ‘moment of truth’ deep breath, you stepped on and the result was the same. 

“Fuck,” you swore under your breath. It was true. 

You stepped off and proceeded to dress yourself with anger, not wanting to dry your hair. 

Exiting the bathroom, you passed Tom, who was still in the kitchen, and walked over to the sectional couch where you took your usual corner spot. Tom eventually bumbled over, holding two glasses of a brown, thick liquid. 

“I made you one anyway,” he voiced, handing you the fuller glass before sitting down next to you, his knees tucked up and turned towards you. “I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

Ugh, why did he have to be so good?

You returned a quiet ‘thanks’ as you accepted the glass. You didn’t take a sip but just stared down into it, the smell making your stomach yearn for a taste. 

“It’s chocolate,” Tom pointed out, beaming with pride. “Your favorite.”

“....What time is it?” You asked in response. 

“It’s,” Tom paused, checking his phone for the time. “10:10. Why?”

“I-I can’t eat until 11,” you remarked softly. 

Tom’s expression contorted into confusion. “Well, that’s the point, babe,” he chuckled. “It’s a protein shake, you’re not eating it.”

You could hear the smile in his voice, wanting to roll your eyes playfully or do something that showed him you were amused. But you just kept your head down, letting out another sigh. 

Tom’s tone changed as he saw you were serious and continued to not drink it. 

“Aw, c’mon, love, please drink it. Can’t remember when you last had something to eat. And I know I would be starving after what you did at the gym today” 

You hated making him feel responsible for your health. You knew you needed to eat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the whole truth.

“I just….want to feel fuller throughout the day,” you explained. 

Tom nodded, shifting his own gaze down to his fingers, which were tapping the glass of his cup. He suddenly put his glass down on the coffee table in front of you, before moving closer next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/N….why can’t you eat until 11?” He asked earnestly. 

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. That was like the equivalent of stressful things building up and you break down once someone asks ‘you okay?.’ You turned your face away from him for a second, trying to gather the words.

“I….don’t w-wanna gain weight and then regret everything tomorrow after I work my ass off at the gym and then don’t see the results,” you spat, the first tear beginning to fall. 

“Aw, love,” Tom consoled, taking your glass from your hands to place it next to his on the table before moving slightly behind you so he could pull you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head. 

“What’s all this about? You know I think you’re beautiful,” he reminded you.

You sniffled, wiping your face before pulling away from him. “That’s the thing, Tom.”

“This isn’t about you. I mean, I want to look good for you but that’s not why a-and not to sound vain but...I know I’m pretty,” You rambled out, making yourself chuckle a bit. 

He chuckled with you, reaching up to wipe away a tear, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ears before letting you continue. 

“I know how you feel about me...and I’m glad you remind me but I just,” you paused for a moment, shifting your eyes from eyes, trying to find how to say it exactly. 

“I just want to feel healthier,” you finally get out. 

“I haven’t felt that way in….a while,” you admitted. “Especially when the movie premiered, I could just...feel myself going over the edge.” 

More tears came to surface, you took a moment to breathe through them. 

“And my body just isn’t like yours, I gain weight so easily! And working out everyday isn’t enough; I have to practically not eat anything to see any change in the numbers...right now I’ve been fluctuating back and forth...I just can’t seem to get out of this spot..I-I just,”

You broke down at that point, leaning back into his body as he comforted you, pulling you into his lap. 

“It’s okay, baby. You’ve just worried me, ‘s all,” he admitted. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Didn’t mean to make you worry,” you apologized as your tears subsided, resting your head on his shoulder. “But I’m putting in more effort than I can give and it leaves me exhausted everyday. I’m just….frustrated.”

“I’m sorry you’re having a rough time, love. It is hard,” Tom agrees. “But just remember that you’re your own toughest critic and I know you’re strong enough to overcome that. I, for one, think you look sexy as fuck,” he voiced, a hand squeezing your hip. 

You chuckle a bit, sensing a similar situation. “I could say the same for you.”

“What do you mean?” Tom questions with a smirk.

You sit up again, leaning back into the cushion of the couch with his arm still around you. 

“You’ve just openly talked about how you thought you looked better in the last Spider-Man than in this one so,” you shrugged. 

Tom scoffs a laugh. “Yeah, but, that was different. I still look good, I just thought I looked better in Homecoming,” he clarifies. 

“Okay, well, I, for one, think you look sexy as fuck anytime,” you emphasized, throwing his words back at him, while squeezing his thick bicep. 

Tom tipped his head back, laughing before wrapping you in his arms again to squish you into a hug. Pulling away, he kissed your lips quickly before pulling away slightly, his nose brushing yours. 

“Well, my point is, we can figure out what you need together. I’m glad that you’re trying to help improve on yourself but just know that I’m here to support you all the way.” 

“Thanks, Tommy,” you giggled before placing your lips on his again, your hand going to the back of his neck while his pulled your waist closer. 

“Starting with,” he spoke against your lips before pulling away and reaching over.

“Chugging this,” He held the drink he made for you in front of you, prompting you to finally drink it. 

“Are you serious?” You laughed, raising your brows.

“YESSSSS,” he replied, singing loudly. “You’re gonna have to drink it if you wanna build that muscle,” he pointed out, squeezing your bicep, which had a little more loose skin on it than his did. 

You sighed dramatically, taking the glass from his hands, looking down at the thick, brown liquid again. 

“Weeeeeee like to drink with Y/N because Y/N is our mate—” Tom started sing-yelling again, this time belting out one of your infamous drinking songs. 

“—Okay, okay” you shushed him, covering your hand over his mouth to silence him. “But if I puke, you’re gonna regret it.”

“And she gets it down in 8, 7, 6…”

Bitch.

~

A/N: im back bitcH. heres a lil surprise for everyone, i know its not GRIND but i want to thank everyone for being so patient with me while i was away! i wanted to start with something a lil smaller before i get back into GRIND but i have been writing for it and it’s coming, i promise. i thought of this idea this morning and wrote it today (fastest i’ve written in a while) and this ones pretty personal for me rn bc i have been struggling with trying to take care of my health and i thought it tied in well with toms comment about his physique in ffh. anyway, be patient with yourself and consistency will take care of you!! 

xx. tommybaholland 🌺

i haven’t written in a minute pls tell me ur thoughts!

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[kagehinataboke]

New prompts? yay I love your work! Can you do number 11 bakutodo but with todoroki being the only one little? Maybe a quirk hit him and it made him a little boy again? Thank youuuu ❤

yes, this sounds so cute!!! big uwu

tdbk: [11] aged down characters

***

“What… the… fuck?” Bakugou blinks several times, but the nightmarish sight in front of him won’t go away. “What the fuck?” he repeats, because there really isn’t else to say.

“I don’t know,” Todoroki says in his prepubescent, soft, high-pitched voice. “I woke up this morning and found myself like this. I think it’s an after-effect of that villain fight yesterday. Her quirk had something to do with aging, didn’t it?”

“Forget that.” Bakugou gestures at Todoroki’s tiny kid body, enveloped in one of Bakugou’s old skull T-shirts. “You’re a fucking toddler.”

“I actually think I’m around seven or eight,” Todoroki corrects, swinging his legs back and forth on Bakugou’s desk chair. He seems to realize what he’s doing and looks at Bakugou with the utmost desperation. “Please help me get back to normal.”

Part of Bakugou really wants to tell him to fuck off, but he can’t just leave his boyfriend as a kid. That’s very illegal. And gross. But what the hell is he supposed to do to fix this? He’s never de-child-fied someone before. Obviously. Where does he even start?

“Fuck,” Bakugou grumbles aloud, pushing himself out of bed. “Let’s go find Aizawa I guess.”

“Do you think he’ll know how to fix it?” Todoroki follows Bakugou out of the dorm, glancing around nervously. “I don’t want anyone else to see me like this…”

“He always knows how to fix shit like this,” Bakugou dismisses. “Well just explain the situation, tell him about the mission yesterday, and see if we can figure out the villain’s quirk— Icy Hot?” Bakugou turns to find Tododoki several feet behind him.

“My legs are short now,” he mutters after catching up. “Don’t laugh. Can’t you walk slower?”

This might be fun, after all. Bakugou bends down so he’s eye-level with the little Todoroki, trying and failing not to smirk. “I’ll carry you. Hop on my back.” Under normal circumstances, Todoroki would freeze Bakugou’s hand to the wall if he suggested something like this. But the eight-year-old Todoroki isn’t exactly in a position to say no.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “but you’d better not tell anyone about this.”

“Roger that, Ice Princess. Wow, you’re so light. And tiny.” Bakugou shifts Todoroki’s weight, which is barely noticeable. “It’s kinda cute.”

“Shut up and walk.” Todoroki buries his face between Bakugou’s shoulders, tugging on his neckline demandingly. His personality didn’t get any more innocent, at least. It would be comforting if it wasn’t so annoying.

***

“This is him? Really?” Aizawa squints at Todoroki, who squirms in his chair. “Amazing,” Aizawa continues, poking the cheek where his scar used to be. “His body has completely reverted to a much younger age. I’ve never seen a quirk work like this before.”

Todoroki smacks his hand away impatiently. “Is there a way to fix it or not? I’m sick of being a child.”

“I’ll have to look into the villain’s quirk,” Aizawa mutters, more to himself than to them. He rubs at his eyes, retrieving a phone from his back pocket. “I’ll call Nezu and see what the protocol is for a situation like this. Bakugou, look after him until we know the full extent of the quirk’s effects.”

“This is just fantastic,” Todoroki murmurs as soon as Aizawa disappears into the hall. “Why did this have to happen? We were careful on the mission, weren’t we?”

Bakugou tries to be sympathetic, but it’s taking all the willpower he has not to laugh at the sight of little Todoroki with his stick-thin arms crossed. “We’re always careful,” he says, coughing to hide his amusement. “Some quirks are just fucked up. We couldn’t have seen this coming.”

Todoroki stays silent, but Bakugou can tell he’s sulking. Part of him wants to give the moron shit about it, but if their situations were reversed, he’d be losing his mind. Instead, he pats Todoroki’s tiny shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Icy Hot. Aizawa always figures this type of shit out. See, here he comes now. He’s probably already found a way to get you back to normal.”

“I don’t have a way to get you back to normal,” Aizawa says, shattering Bakugou’s half-assed optimism. “Yet. Nezu is going to speak with the police force to see about analyzing the villain’s quirk. Until then, we’ll just have to monitor you, Todoroki.”

“You’re kidding.” Todoroki’s face falls. “How king will I be stuck like this?”

“We’ll turn you back to normal,” Aizawa assures him. “The safety of the students is U.A.’s top priority… Usually. Nevertheless, it’s pointless to worry. Just lay low for today, and I’ll come to you when we have a solution.” Aizawa gestures at Bakugou. “Take him back to your room. I don’t want him alone.” He lowers his voice to whisper, “And don’t provoke any strong emotions in him. In his current state, I can’t be sure what will happen.”

***

“UNO. Victory. That’s four wins in a row for me.”

“Why the fuck are you so good at this?” Bakugou slams his cards against the table irritably. “Let’s do something else, before I strangle you.”

“I don’t think you meant to say that out loud.”

“Did I fucking stutter?” Bakugou exhales a tense breath to calm himself down. “Okay… How about some food? Can you stay here until I get back?”

“I want to go with you.”

“No. Do you want others to see you like this?”

Todoroki hesitates, but refuses to give up. “I’m coming with you. Aizawa said not to leave me alone, anyway, so let’s get going.”

Dammit, Bakugou really hates when he’s right… “Fine, asshole. But I’m not carrying you again.” He locks the door and starts down the hallway.

“Then walk slower, Katsuki. That’s not slow in the least, and you know it. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Bakugou smirks, slowing to let Todoroki’s corgi legs catch up. “Maybe a little. You’re just so fun-sized.” He tries to pinch Todoroki’s cheek, but quickly jerks his hand away with a yelp. “Ow! What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong?” Todoroki touches his face, frowning at Bakugou questioningly. “What happened?”

“Your face scorched my fucking hand.” Bakugou shows the steaming burn to prove it, and Todoroki’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry, I… I suppose my quirk isn’t working properly. I hadn’t learned to control it at this point. But I don’t feel any—“ Todoroki suddenly sways, catching himself against the wall. He tugs at his collar. “Ah… it’s hot.”

“Oh, fuck.” Bakugou notices the sweat dripping from Todoroki’s red face and swallows down his panic. He’s overheating like a boiling pot. “Shit. Take your clothes off.”

“That’s… i-inappro…” Todoroki’s eyes roll back in his head. Bakugou has to lunge to catch him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He jerks his hands away from Todoroki’s burning skin, pulling off his borrowed T-shirt in the process. His chest is red-hot, steaming like human skin definitely shouldn’t. “Holy shit. This is no time to panic,” he tells himself, scrambling for his phone. “Have to call Aizawa…”

“Bakugou?” Yaoyorozu is standing a few feet down the hall with Jirou, both sweaty and holding ice-filled water bottles.

“Fuck.” Bakugou quickly stumbles to his feet and yanks ones of the bottles from Jirou’s hand, ripping off the cap. “This better work.” He dumps the ice water over Todoroki, leaping back when hissing steam curls into the air. It does its job, though: Todoroki’s skin returns to a normal color, but he doesn’t wake up.

“What the hell is going on?” Jirou asks, picking up her discarded water bottle. “Wait… Is that—“

“It’s Todoroki,” Bakugou interrupts impatiently, using the skill T-shirt to pat Todoroki’s chest dry. “I don’t have time to explain everything. You can either get lost, or you can help me get this bastard to Aizawa.”

***

“That was a close call. You’re lucky he wasn’t injured.” Recovery Girl pulls the curtains closed around Todoroki’s bed. “It seems as if he was boiling from the inside out. I managed to cool him off enough to avoid damage.”

Before Bakugou can be relieved, Aizawa’s words bite into him. “Are you deaf? I told you not to get him worked up!”

“I didn’t do shit to him!” Bakugou protests, smacking Aizawa’s hands off his collar. “If anything, this is your fault! Isn’t this school’s ‘top priority’ to protect its students? If you’d done your damn job, he’d have been fine from the fucking start!”

“Now, now; everyone please settle down.” Nezu appears from thin air, as annoyingly calm as always. “There’s no use casting blame after the fact. Besides, the situation has now been resolved. The villain willingly told us how to reverse the effects of her quirk. Todoroki should be back to normal in an hour or so.”

Aizawa narrows his eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut. Bakugou lifts his chin with a scoff. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

“Don’t.” Nezu halts him with a raised paw. “We’ll go. You should stay. Aizawa?”

The two teachers disappear, and Bakugou reluctantly follows Recovery Girl’s advice to sit by Todoroki’s bedside. The whole day has taken the absolute piss out of him. Fucking villains. Fucking careless Half bastard. Bakugou didn’t even realize how worried he really is until Nezu told him they’d found the solution.

Todoroki gets on his nerves, but if anything serious happened to him… Fuck, it’s better not to even think about. He’s fine now. Most importantly, he won’t be stuck as a kid forever. It’s impossible and disgusting to even think about having romantic feelings for an eight-year-old.

“…Katsuki?” Todoroki mumbles. His voice is back to normal, and when he opens his eyes, the left is framed by his blissfully normal, beautiful scar. “Am I back to normal?”

Bakugou attempts to lighten the serious atmosphere. “Dunno. Have you checked down there?”

“Not funny,” Todoroki warns, but the corners of his lips are twitching. “I didn’t realize how much I liked being a teenager until I was an eight-year-old.”

“I’m glad you’re not a fetus anymore,” Bakugou says with an eye-roll. “It would be amazingly awkward to have to break up with you over it.”

They both laugh, and it lessens the knot of tension in Bakugou’s stomach. Things are back to normal. For the time being, at least. He really needs to have a talk with the school about their safety measures… But for now, he’ll enjoy having his full-sized, mega dipshit of a boyfriend back.

“Move over. I’m coming in.”

“This bed is way too small for two people.”

“Shut up. If we can fit on your sister’s couch together, we can fit here.”

They maneuver into a comfortable position, arms and legs intertwined in a safety net of limbs. Todoroki is back to his normal temperature—a perfect mix of hot and cold—and he fits snugly against Bakugou’s side like a puzzle piece, right where he belongs.

#Im so in love with them #dammit #answered asks #todobaku #calla.txt #trope memes

[sunkissedpages]

Hey! Congrats on 1k, that's brilliant! Can i please request a blurb with prompt 51 from the first list and prompt 10 from the second list ❤

thank you, love!! sorry it took so long to get to!! also, there wasn’t a 51 on the list so I went with 41 I hope that’s okay!! and it’s so long I got carried away lol

**the reader is pregnant in this as a lil nod to my fave @nnatasha :))

“How ‘bout you come and help me out, huh?”

“Were you just touching yourself?” ‘Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?’

It was a lazy Sunday in the Holland house and you were propped up on the couch next to Tom, a bowl of chips resting on your belly. He was watching some golf tournament, but you weren’t really paying attention. Instead, you were focused on his hands, his fingers, that were drawing shapes absentmindedly on your thigh. It was something that he did all the time anyway, but for whatever reason it was driving you crazy today.

Ever since you’d gotten pregnant you’ve been unbelievably horny, and at first, it was great. You dragged Tom to bed every chance you got, and he certainly didn’t complain. You left dinners, parties, and even movies early, unable to go another minute without having him inside you. Watching Tom sneak out of bathrooms and closets after messing around with you, cheeks pink and hair tousled was one of your favorite things and often led to an immediate round two. You were insatiable, and Tom had always called you out for it with an appreciative smirk and nip at your bottom lip.

But as the months passed and your body started to change more and more, your confidence began to dwindle. You still wanted Tom all the time, but you didn’t think he felt the same way. With your fluctuating weight and growing stomach, how could he possibly find you as attractive as he had before? He hadn’t said anything about it of course, but you knew he was too nice to. And it wasn’t just that. You didn’t feel as sexy as you used to, you weren’t as sure of yourself and your body. The pounds you were gaining weren’t just around your stomach and it made you insecure, all of it made you insecure.

You attributed any advance he made towards you as something he felt obligated to do, and shrugged him off with an apologetic smile, so after a while he stopped trying altogether, content to spend afternoons together with you like this, relaxing and watching tv together.

What you didn’t know was that he thought the exact opposite. Seeing you like this actually turned him on. He was in awe that over the fact that your body was creating a whole new life inside of it and you acted like it was almost nothing. You were the strongest woman he knew and all he wanted to do was worship your body and pleasure you for carrying his child, but your sex drive had seemingly taken a dive and he wasn’t about to be selfish while you were doing all the hard work. So he resolved to quietly getting himself off in the shower to thoughts of you and keeping himself in check when you spent time together.

You always tried to pay attention to golf even though you hated it, just for the sake of being able to make conversation with Tom while it was happening, but today your mind was on other things. You watched as some guy you’d never seen before hit a golf ball into the lake and tensed as Tom’s hand squeezed your leg as he exclaimed at the tv.

“Oi, that was fucking awful!” he shouted, not releasing his grip on your leg.

You fought the urge to squirm as heat rushed to your core and sucked in a deep breath through your teeth.

“You alright, love?” Tom asked as he ripped his attention away from the tv, his voice laced with concern.

You shifted on the couch and rolled your neck, rubbing it lightly with your hand.. “Just a muscle cramp,” you lied and cleared your throat.

“Want me to rub your neck?” he offered, turning his body towards you.

“Um, yeah sure,” you agreed (like an idiot), hoping it would take your mind off of what you really wanted him to do to you.

You put the bowl of chips on the coffee table in front of you and scooted back closer to Tom so that you could sit between his legs. He brushed your hair out of the way softly and put one hand on each shoulder, just underneath the collar of your shirt. His hands were cold at first, and you shivered as he moved his fingers along your skin and began to apply pressure. He worked his thumbs into the muscles of your neck as he half-watched the tournament, pressing a little harder whenever a player made a particularly good or bad shot.

The burning between your thighs didn’t subside as he massaged your neck, you didn’t know why you thought it would. You groaned as he started to press a little more firmly, wishing his fingers would wander a little further under your shirt.

“Feel good?” he asked with a little smirk.

“Mhm,” you replied with a nod of you head.

“I’m glad. Is your neck feeling any better?”

You sat up straighter and leaned away from him so that his hands fell away from your shoulders. He looked at you in confusion.

“Um, yeah, thank you.” You swallowed thickly, pressing your legs together.

“Darling?”

“I’m feeling a little sick actually, so I’ll-I’ll be right back,” you leapt up from the couch and made a run for your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You knew Tom wouldn’t follow you because you didn’t like him to see you getting sick, even though he wanted to take care of you.

You heard him call out after you, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Your mind was ironically too cloudy with thoughts of him, of his hands and all the things he could do with them to make any sense of what he’d said. You shrugged off your t-shirt and sweatpants in record time, leaving your socks on, and jumped onto the bed as quietly as possible. You didn’t waste any time slipping your fingers under the waistband of your panties, gasping when you finally applied pressure to where you needed it most. You were even wetter than you thought, making it easy to work two of your fingers inside of you at once.

You bit your lip, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Your back arched off the bed when you brought your thumb to your clit and you cursed under your breath. The combination of relief and pleasure was indescribable and you felt yourself getting close fast.

You imagined Tom’s fingers pumping in and out of you and his lips on your neck and couldn’t help but moan out a little.

You were nearly over the edge when you heard the bedroom door open and froze, eyes wide, and saw a very red faced Tom.

“What the fuck?” he asked. You read a mixture of anger and lust in his eyes and gulped. “Were you just touching yourself?”

“Um, it isn’t what you think?” you lied even though it was futile.You knew it looked pretty bad, you were completely naked on the bed, hand down your panties, all sweaty and blissed out.

He crossed his arms. “I was listening at the door, y/n, don’t play dumb.”

“You were listening?” you accused, still aware of how guilty you looked with your fingers still literally inside of you.

“Yes, because you said you were sick! I wanted to make sure you were okay!”

“Well, I’m almost done, or at least I was. Don’t worry we can keep watching golf in a minute.”

“I don’t fucking care about golf, y/n,” he spat, then softened a little. “Why didn’t you ask me to help? With, y’know...” he trailed off nodding in the direction of your hand.

Your lip began to tremble. “I didn’t want to make you.”

“Make me? What are you on about?”

You glanced down at your body and shrugged. “I know my body is different and bigger and just...not like it used to be, so I didn’t want to make you do anything if you didn’t think I was as attractive anymore.”

You thought Tom’s eyes might pop out of his head the way he was looking at you. “What on earth made you think that?”

“I dunno, I just don’t feel like myself I guess, and I thought you might think I was gross now or something.”

“Love, no- absolutely not. If anything, it’s the opposite! You look...so gorgeous like that, what you’re doing, creating life, is fucking incredible. I get hard just thinking about you these days,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Wait, really?” you asked, sitting up a little more.

“Uh yeah,” he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Controlling myself around you has been really hard, but I thought the hormones had kicked your sex drive so I didn’t want to push you. I mean, especially because you’re already doing so much.:”

“I’m always horny,” you groaned, tossing your head back onto the pillows. “I think it’s worse than before?”

“Really?” Tom asked eagerly and you could swear you saw his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

“Really.”

“Have you, uh, have you come yet?” he asked, licking his lips.

You shook your head, starting to move your thumb over your clit again. “How ‘bout you come over here and help me out, huh?”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” he said cockily, pulling his t-shirt up and over his head.

He wiggled out of his sweats too, and hopped up on the bed next to you. He kissed you harshly on the lips before moving in between your legs.

“Wanna taste,” he mumbled, taking your hand that was still occupied by the wrist and bringing your fingers to his mouth, sucking all the way down to your knuckles. He looked up at you with your fingers in his mouth, eyes nearly black with lust. You moaned and arched towards him. He released your wrist and grinned.“That’s it darling,” he said lowly, “want to make you feel so good.”

You managed to raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

He nodded. “What’d you have in mind?”

1k celebration

#late answers #wazzupmrstarks1k #tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom h #tom #tommy #th #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #th x reader #answered #anon

[ivyfics]

When you’re sober — (fic)

When air is back in his lungs he manages a, “Whoa. Who’re you?”

Long fingers land on the bridge of black rims, pushing them up even when they haven’t moved an inch. “Tsukishima.” Eyes behind glass settle on him for a second before their gazes break, jump away. The blond snack stands straighter and asks, “And you are?”

“Not straight,” Tetsurou replies, dazed and with a croaky throat.

Rating: Mature Pairing: Kurotsuki

Read on AO3

The night is lost between strobe lights, deafening beats, and way too much tequila for four people to consume—three and a half if the shots Akaashi’s given away as to protect his liver are brought into consideration.

He’s not sure if his face is numb or his entire skin is on fire but he’s swaying slowly between those two the same way he sways on the dancefloor, the amount of alcohol in his blood caught up with his motor skills and taking him from frantic head-nodding and hip-popping to that sweet, sweet rocking of his knees to a beat that does not match whatever the DJ is playing.

Crowded, loud, hot both in the way that leaves Tetsurou with the kind of glow people buy exorbitantly priced fine-milled stardust to achieve and in the two tutoring sessions the bouncer’s niece is getting out of Akaashi to agree to let them cut the long ass line curving around the block.

Do not be fooled, this is not your usual club.

It’s an epiphany, one they get to experience only after being vouched by Terushima’s minute nod to the gatekeeping stack of muscle. Not that his man, his bro, the hot piece of ass he lives with could not take him if things went south. He has absolute faith that Bokuto is more than capable of decking the dude if necessary, as much as he has in the knowledge that he would never deck anyone undeserving of having their bone structure re-arranged.

Bokuto is out of his sight down to the tippy-tips of his frosted hair, a feat considering they tower over almost everyone else in the area around the booth they claimed for themselves when they arrived—courtesy of Terushima, as long as Kuroo pulls through with a hot number burning the contact list on his phone.

Bokuto was holding the Jose Cuervo and the fantastic, demonic amber liquid inside of it when he hopped into the crowd and vanished. The last thing anyone needs right now, especially Tetsurou, is to have Bokuto get completely fucked; there is no way in any ring of hell that any of them have the steady gait it takes to transport a completely fucked Bokuto anywhere. Oikawa, maybe, but the last Tetsurou saw of him was grinding down on the nearest unknown beefcake so that’s a total loss. Good night for Oikawa’s ass, terrible for them if they need some muscle to transport their own beefcake out to wherever they’ll head to next.

Somewhere with a bed they can all throw themselves on, or at least some blankets on a floor. Whatever that place turns out to be, Tetsurou will not be the one leading them there this time. He and Bokuto ran into some other friends with commodities on Terushima’s radar; they got some nice Dictador shots out of it, and Tetsurou is feeling it in the raging pit burning his guts.

Before anyone can go all judgey on them, they don’t usually do this. Going for a drink usually involves lots of beer, finger foods because Bokuto gets snacky when he drinks, and a place where they can all sleep over when they eventually get beaten by the blessed sleep that comes with getting a little more than buzzed. Also, fuck whoever judges them even if that weren’t the case. They do what they want.

The floor shifts, dancing party-goers along with it, and Tetsurou’s arms spread out to find some balance. He takes a second or two to steady himself and to realize that the floor is as solid as a rock, that he’s the one doing the walls-caving-in thing, and that maybe those shots hit him a little harder than he thought. He waddles through the crowd trying his best not to look down, eyes blinking faster than they should.

Vertigo doesn’t seem plausible when you’re only about six feet high (which he’s not because his feet are on solid ground even though his head technically is,seeing as that’s the height it would fall from if Tetsurou was to take a little spill) but Tetsurou’s felt some things before and there is no other way to explain the wave that rolls over you when you’re head-diving face first into a sticky, disgusting floor of a club.

Landing on the booth with his hip, Tetsurou admits that whatever line exists between him getting out of this club by his own means and not has been crossed—meaning: after all the undeserving mental bitching he’s being doing in slander of Bokuto’s name, he’s the one who is completely fucked. Luckily for him (and the ones who now have the responsibility to make sure he doesn’t wash up in a random alley somewhere when the sun comes up),  he’s not impossible to transport.

A little wobbly, sure, but easy enough to maneuver.

When the swirling of his sight calms down, he can see Oikawa in his line of sight. The brunette is doing something that Tetsurou will call dancing because he might be drunk out of his wits but he’s polite, ass not so discreetly backing up into the wall of muscle that is Oikawa’s prey tonight.

He looks pretty solid. Maybe he can carry Tetsurou out.

Writhing bodies flash in and out of darkness, eyelids growing heavier and then not until he feels a massive amount of warmth at his side, groaning. It’s a familiar feeling and Tetsurou groans back, setting some of his weight back on Bokuto. Guess it wasn’t all slander.

“I think it’s time we left,” Akaashi speaks up loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the music. He sounds sober, too sober, and Tetsurou envies him furiously around the spinning of the room and the numbness of his face. How nice it would be to have control of his physical form. Tetsurou turns to blink at Akaashi blearily, overshooting a little to the left and having to compensate. He finds him with a hand on Bokuto’s hair, the motion of his fingers combing through and working at the strands hypnotic to Tetsurou’s alcohol-addled brain.   Bokuto agrees with another groan, face flopping on Tetsurou’s rib cage. It should hurt, that with Bokuto’s nose being extra jabby, but Tetsurou is above that kind of sensory input right now. Tetsurou tries to move, his neck craned in a way that doesn’t bother him now, but that would hurt if he were any more sober than he is. “Oikawa is not going to be happy about that.”

Bokuto groans again, the sound barely audible from where it’s muffled at Tetsurou’s sweaty side. “Leave him. I wanna sleep.”

Akaashi hums, letting Bokuto deal with himself while he locates Oikawa on the dance floor. “He’s had too much to drink to leave behind, he’s not going home with anyone tonight.”

Bokuto’s head snaps up, eyes squinting to catch Akaashi’s line of sight. “Oh. Yeah.” The couple of strands of Bokuto’s hair that have come loose from being a sweaty gross mess flop against his forehead, cheek resting on Tetsurou’s shoulder when he’s tired of seeing Oikawa’s ass grind down on whoever that is.“He’s going to bitch at me about cockblocking him until he falls asleep.”

“But he’ll make pancakes for everyone as thanks for not leaving him alone with a serial killer.”

“Fuck yes, pancakes. Can we have pancakes, Keiji?”

Akaashi makes a noise of agreement. “When we get home and you guilt Oikawa into making them.”

“Can we go home now?”

“There’s a tiny problem,” Tetsurou says, because he owes it to them to disclose exactly how much it’s gonna take to lift him from this booth.

Tetsurou is the presentable drunk; he doesn’t puke, doesn’t slur his words or does crazy shit if he’s left out of sight even for a second—and how is Suga doing these days, he wonders?—but he does become a floppy meat puppet for a while, all while looking like he’s just over-danced and overheated. “I’m soooooo drunk, Akaashi, I can’t feel my legs.”

Akaashi’s face twist, just a little, at having two people to drag out. They try, really, to balance out who stays sober enough to make sure everyone’s safe (or keep an eye on Suga when he tags along—except Bokuto. Suga has the uncanny ability to drag him along in his shenanigans), but Akaashi has been it for the last three times they’ve gone out. He can’t cook for shit so it won’t be pancakes but Tetsurou is going to do something nice for him this week.  

“I guess walking back to your place is off the list.”

Right. That was the plan. Their shared apartment. The apartment that is at decent walking distance when you’re only planning to dance a lot and drink a little. Like they were supposed to do tonight.

“Keiji, I’m sorry,” Bokuto moans. “Tequila was a bad choice.”

Tetsurou makes a noise of agreement. He agrees with that all the way to his soul. “Tequila is always the right choice until it’s not. It’s always not.”

“It’s fine. I think I have a place we can crash at nearby. Let me go call first.” Akaashi gets up, pulling his phone out of his pocket because he’s an angel. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Tetsurou laughs a little. “Couldn’t even if I tried.” Then, he adds, “Maybe if I tried really hard.”

“Don’t try.” Akaashi gives him a sharp look, shutting him down before disappearing to work his magic.

Bokuto doesn’t move an single centimeter, only looking up when Oikawa comes back with the swole dude in tow.

Oikawa looks like an add for expensive, overpriced perfume. “Kuroo, you ratty bitch.”

Tetsurou is hurt. “How come I’m the only ratty bitch here? I’m not even the drunkest one.”

“Koutarou can do what he wants.”

“You heard him. I do what I want,” Bokuto laughs, followed by a groan. Kuroo rests his eyes for a while, enjoying the warmth at his back and the portion of Oikawa’s conversation that floats his way. Time disappears for an infinite moment, his body loose on his seat.

Akaashi comes back after an unknown amount of minutes, letting his presence be known by a flick to Kuroo’s forehead that makes him jolt, and in turn, makes Bokuto groan again. A quick glance tells Kuroo that his eyes are closed and he’s snuggling against Kuroo’s side. If they don’t get moving soon he will fall asleep on this booth. On cue, Bokuto says, “I don’t wanna get up.”

“Bokuto, get up right now. I can’t carry you by myself when you’re like this.” Akaashi’s voice is stern but Kuroo knows in his gut that his words are paired with his hands slicking Bokuto’s hair back from his sweaty forehead gently.

“I can help,” Oikawa’s catch of the day speaks up. “It looks like you could use a hand.”

He certainly looks like he can help, muscle tee showing off arms that would make sculptors weep. He can probably take care of Bokuto by himself. It’s not that any of them are puny, it’s just that Bokuto is so fucking ripped. He’s a wall of heavy, dense muscle, dragging down whoever carries him with his drunk dead weight. This new dude looks like he can keep up, though.

Tetsurou’s mouth goes off.  “Thank you, ripped stranger.”

The stranger shakes his head, amused. “Iwaizumi,” he offers. That must be his name.

“Thank you, ripped Iwaizumi,” he amends.  

Huh, maybe he’s drunker than he thought.

They somehow manage to get out of the club in one piece and without leaving anyone behind. Tetsurou doesn’t really know where they’re going, but the last two brain cells not taking a bath in booze are too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other without toppling over the pavement to care. Akaashi is leading them somewhere safe, he hopes. And comfortable. Please, be comfortable. He’s so done with walking.

Tetsurou leans a little heavier on Tooru. He’s rosy-cheeked and his eyes are half-lidded, Tooru’s energy level dropping a little without the dim lights and heavy music to amp him up. The toll of the night out is showing in his slow gait, sturdier that Tetsurou’s. Tooru is the one leading him but he leans his weight on Tetsurou, too, their combined efforts keeping them moving and upright.

Kind of like the less blind leading the blind.  

They’re at the back of their little group, Akaashi chatting with Iwaizumi with Bokuto between them in front of them. The road is quiet and glowing under the streetlights, aiding to the surreal feeling carried by the fresh breeze.

Tetsurou gets lost in the flexing muscles of Tooru’s dude’s arms for about two seconds before almost tripping and Tooru’s tensing arm around his shoulders break him out of it.  “He’s hot, Tooru. God job.”

“You mean ‘good job’?”

“That too.”

Tooru laughs, a big free guffaw fueled by the late night air and whatever level of drunk he still is, his body against Tetsurou shaking more than it should have for something so unfunny. The pair of them warble in their steps a little, and it’s Tetsurou who makes them still so that they don’t fall. Tetsurou looks forward and catches Tooru’s dude looking back at them, risking an unsteady Bokuto that clings to him for a glance at a laughing Tooru. He falters, minutely—but enough to have Tetsurou notice and Iwaizumi’s cheeks go red even under the dim lights before he quickly faces front.

The building they arrive at is so incredibly familiar that Tetsurou doesn’t doubt he’s been here before. Even without clinging to Tooru’s shirt his feet would find their way around, and he follows without paying attention to where they’re going because his body leads the way for him on autopilot. It takes them an eternity and Tooru’s death grip on his shirt to climb the steps to the second floor, but they make it relatively unscathed. Kuroo does bang his shoulder against the wall a little too hard, but the pain fades almost immediately.

They stop near the stairwell, the door a pale gray with a metal ‘2B’ above it. Kuroo fades out at this point, gaze weirdly entertained by the shiny ceramic frog sitting next to the doorframe. It’s pink, for one, and it has a yellow ribbon around it’s throat. It stares back at Tetsurou with jumpy eyes and a forever smile on its face.

It’s hauntingly familiar. He’s seen that frog before. He knows the frog. So much that he says, “I know that frog.”

Tetsurou’s voice is only for himself, but Bokuto manages to catch it. “ ‘Course you do. That’s Lola.”

What? How does Bokuto know the frog? How does Tetsurou know the frog? Before he can voice his concern the door opening cuts him off, and Tetsurou, he’s—he’s dumbfounded.

Standing in front of him is the damning proof that god is real, because the devil made whoever this is. He’s gorgeous , standing in the entryway in blue sweats and a white t-shirt. Soft fabric and a tall frame, pretty and short curls over sharp eyes.

When air is back in his lungs he manages a, “Whoa. Who’re you?”

Long fingers land on the bridge of black rims, pushing them up even when they haven’t moved an inch. “Tsukishima.” Eyes behind glass settle on him for a second before their gazes break, jump away. The blond snack stands straighter and asks, “And you are?”

“Not straight,” Kuroo replies, dazed and with a croaky throat.

Everyone goes quiet at that, stun broken by Akkashi’s groan of  ‘not this’ and Oikawa’s ‘pffffft!’

After they manage to move past Tetsurou’s mouth, the shuffle in to the apartment slowly. It’s small, but surprisingly free of clutter. The feeling that Tetsurou’s been here before grows by the second, down to the pleased sound he makes when his butt decides to rest on one of the stools by the kitchen counter.

Iwaizumi chuckles next to him, hands free now that Bokuto is starfished on the couch as much as he can.“I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna stay, Iwa-chan?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good. I have to go back to my people.” Coming closer to Tooru, he places a hand on Tooru’s nape. “I’ll see you?”  

Oikawa pouts, but nods, face shifting to mischief almost immediately. “Thank you for your service. I’ll be sure to make it up to you,” he purrs. Oikawa leans in closer to his ear, probably to whisper dirty things, but Kuroo does not care even a single bit, not an ounce. He’s much too busy looking over at their host, their literal saviour. The very recent but very intense apple of Kuroo’s eye.

He’s still as pretty as he way when he opened the door.

Tetsurou stares at him awhile before a smile takes over. He leans forward, elbow catching his weight on the counter. “You know,” he drawls, “If I had a dollar for every time I saw someone as pretty as you, I wouldn’t have money to take you anywhere.”

Oikawa’s choked laughter fills the air behind him followed by, “You don’t have it now.”

Tetsurou whips to face him. He whispers furiously across the room, hand shooting out to point at the blonde. “Shhhhhh! He doesn’t know that!”

The outburst makes a quiet chuckle come from behind him, and when Tetsurou looks over his angel has a barely there smile on his face and is pointedly looking away from him. It brings a goofy smile to Tetsurou’s face. He’s making progress!

He clears his throat, brain going a mile a minute trying to come up with his best work. “So are you a bookworm or do you just dress like one?”

“Why?”

Tetsurou shrugs because duh, “Glasses.”

Tsukishima gives him a glance for less than a second before rolling his eyes. Akaashi’s bored tone speaks up, “That was terrible. ”

“Worse that terrible, that was lame,” Oikawa says.  

Alright, okay. A hit and a miss, but he can do better. “You’re like a long water bottle.”

Everyone goes silent until Akaashi’s tentative, “Did you mean a tall glass of water?”

“Yeah. Are you acid? Because I’m tripping over you.”

Oikawa sleepily boos in the background while Akaashi walks over to stand next to Tsukishima. “Do you have anything we can feed him? He needs to sober up.”

Tetsurou doesn’t stop. “I see you and my eyes hurt.”

Akaashi’s trek to the fridge stops. Then, he shrugs and keeps going. “I got nothing.”

Tsukishima hums, face fully in his fridge, giving Tetsurou the best view of his ass. It’s small but it’s so cute. “All I have is leftovers, but that usually doesn’t go over well. The only thing that won’t make him puke is cheese and crackers.”

Tsukishima plates it up for him, along with a glass of water. He sets it in front of Tetsurou and tells him, “Eat.”

“Thank you,” Tetsurou smiles at him, enamoured. He starts on them slowly, nibbling on the cheese. Tsukishima—and that’s so clunky to say, so long. He needs a nickname, something as cute as he is.

Tsukki, maybe. He tests is on his tongue. “Tsukki.”

“Yeah?”

“Tsukki. Tsuuukki. Tsu—kki.”

“What?”

“You’re so pretty. Your hair is so yellow,” Tetsurou says with a lilt, staring at the slice in his hand. Then, his eyes widen as he thrust it higher in the air. “Like cheese!”

Tsukki chuckles again, eyes closed and head shaking. “You’re going to regret so many things tomorrow.”

That might be true, but Tetsurou won’t regret trying to make him smile. “Are you a 175 degree angle? ‘Cause I hope you’re not straight.”

Akaashi sighs, “A nerd, even when he’s drunk.”

“You’re a punch to the face.”

It’s Bokuto who speaks up this time, laugh muffled by his face resting on the cushion. “A Knockout.”

“You’re a filthy thief! You stole my hea”— Tetsurou emphatically swings his arm, causing his cheese to slip and land on the floor—“Oh, my cheese.”

His cheese. His poor cheese. Tsukki gave him that.

Oikawa lifts his head from where it rests on Bokuto’s back. “Awww. Tetsu, that one was kind of cute.”

“Of course it’s cute. It has to be cute, cause he’s cute,” Tetsurou grumbles, “He’s like a—a“— Tetsurou’s hand shoots out, gripping the arm nearest to him and asking—”what’s the word that’s not mop?”

The arm nearest to him happens to belong to the blonde, who just stares down at him. After a second of Tetsurou’s inquisitive look, he responds. “Not mop. Broom?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m like a broom.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tsukishima closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. “I’m going to regret this. Why?”

Tetsurou lets go of him and leaps to stand straight. “Cause you sweep me off my—”

And everything goes dark.

Tetsurou is dead. He’s either dead, or dying, or being digested by a giant beast but he’s dead. Something crawled into his mouth, took a shit and then died there, too.

After furiously praying to whatever god there is to please let him him succumb back to sleep until he’s not dead enough to feel like this—and failing—he slowly blinks awake, eyes tacky. The room is blessedly dark, and the familiar light green sheets underneath him are soft.

He, very carefully, gets up in search of people. While the room’s curtains had been drawn, the rest of the apartment is sunny. Tetsurou blinks against the light, keeping his hand on the doorframe for support.

“Morning, Romeo.”

Tetsurou stumbles out into the room, pouring himself on his usual stool. Long minutes pass by before,“Did I— Did I call your hair cheese?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

Tetsurou whines, his forehead hitting the cool surface of the counter. “ Tsu—kki, why do you let me embarrass myself?”

Tsukki stands by the stove, glass of water in his hand. His laptop is next to Tetsurou on the counter, along with a stack of papers. By the looks of it he’s been awake for a lot longer that Tetsurou. With the most neutral expression, he answers, “It brings me joy.”

“Where is everyone?”

Tsukki hums. “Bokuto kept saying something about pancakes, so he and Akaashi left to get some.”

He would. Fuck Bokuto and his inability to suffer through hangovers like the rest of them. He probably woke up peppy and ready to face the day.

“Oikawa”—Tsukki makes a pinched face at his name. Knowing Oikawa, he made sure to annoy Tsukki as much as possible before taking off. Not that it was that hard for him, it took some time for Tsukki and Tooru to get along—”left to get ready for his date with, and I quote verbatim, ‘The adonis who is going to destroy whatever there is of me later.’ ”

Tetsurou frowns, going through the watery memories of yesterday. “I remember someone big and muscly.”

“That’s the one.”

Tetsurou hums into the counter. He remembers most of last night the way he does childhood memories, with vague and veilied understanding of what happened.“How could I forget you? And Lola!” Tetsurou looks over to the door, raising his voice. “I’m sorry, Lola.”

Tsukki lets him sulk in his head for a bit. He comes closer and Tetsurou can feel his elbows resting on the other side of the surface, in front of him. “Hey, Kuroo?”

“Hnn?”

“How come you never hit on me when you’re sober?”

He chokes. Tetsurou is too hungover to be having this conversation, because for a second there—and he doesn’t want to get to ahead of himself, here—it sounded like Tsukki was… pouting. That has to be a mistake, because Tsukki doesn’t pout. He snips.

“It just doesn’t seem fair that I have to put up with your terrible flirting when we aren’t even on a date. Don’t you think?”

While he’s right and Tsukki is decidedly not pouting, he’s also not not pouting.

And sure, Tetsurou’s given it some thought. Everyone’s given it some thought; he’s had nights chatting with Oikawa where he, too, admitted to having a thought once. Granted, Tetsurou might have given it a little more than just some thought to it.

A little but too much of it sometimes, when they spend time together and all he does is think about it, along with fleeting idea when someone mentions the blonde in front of him. Or when he sees someone trying to hit on Tsukki—which, why wouldn’t they? He’s all of that —and there’s this sudden sourness in his tongue he pretends isn’t there.

“It seems to me like you should rectify that, seeing as there is this huge backlog of your awful drunken flirting to make-up for,” Tsukki continues, like he’s not destroying Tetsurou’s mind.  

“How—How would I go about rectifying that?” Tetsurou’s voice wobbles.

“Lunch, for starters. Or coffee. I just—I need to know.”

“Know what?”

“If your flirting is actually that bad.”

“You want me to flirt with you? On a date.”

Tetsurou knows he sounds incredulous. It’s so unexpected. He never imagined Kei would be interested. How many times have they been here before? How many times has Tetsurou drunkenly flirted with him, only to make like it’s nothing the next day? Tsukki has always brushed it off good-naturedly to the point that Tetsurou thought he was so far off Tsukki’s radar that the only way he’d ever take any advances from him would be as a joke.

Kei sighs, “Forget it.”

He sounds so disappointed. Tsukki is (badly) pretending not to be, but Tetsurou can hear it. It makes him desperate to rectify this, hope making him jump even if his head will kill him for it. “No! No take-backs! I’m buying you lunch. And dinner! As a date, not friends—well, obviously friends, but friends that are on a date. Romantically. Full romo. And I’m flirting with you!”

Tetsurou’s head is pounding, his voice too loud but he takes a quick breath and sucks it up. “I’ll flirt with you right now. You’re—”

“Please don’t,” Tsukki interrupts him.”You look like you’re about to die.”

He’s not about to die, and he’s not missing this shot because he made Tsukki misunderstand.

“Save it for later,” Tsukki says, and there’s a light blush on his cheeks, his voice so flustered while he looks away and, oh, oh.

Tetsurou is so incredibly fucked.

#my writing #kurotsuki #haikyuu!! #hq!! #fanfic

[stil-lindigo]

beachside bonzoes

AN: hello everybody! this is something different to what i usually do so uh. please be kind. I was going to post this yesterday but with the cancelling of dirk gently i decided to put it off to today. i thought we might all need some fluffy rowdy time.

summary: the Oh No van’s AC breaks down and the rowdies terrorise a tourist beach. there’s family, anarchy and just the slightest bit of drummerwolf. also, the universe being super passive aggressive.

beachside bonzoes

Squinting against the bright, burning, sun, Amanda Brotzman downs the last of her water from her water bottle and groans.

‘Ugh,’ she mutters as she slumps back into her tattered passenger seat. ‘It’s like I’m drinking my own sweat.’

‘Ewww, boss!’ Vogel yelps in disgust from the backseat. ‘Now I’m roastin’ and grossed out.’

 ‘Gross-ting,’ Gripps’ voice is croaky from where he’s splayed out on the red seats, arm slung over his face. Cross lies beneath him, diligently fanning both Cross and Vogel with old magazines.

 ‘Toasting,’ he adds with a tired chuckle. Nearby, Beast emits a low growl.

 ‘We’re fucking burnt, boys,’ Amanda sighs and glances over at their shitty air conditioner chugging out metallic-smelling but cold air. Martin grunts at her from the driver’s seat before she can get a word out.

 ‘ ‘s on the highest setting, drummer. Ain’t nothin’ gonna make it work harder.’

 Amanda groans louder and rolls the grimy window down, staring out at the passing landscape with a tangible irritation. This suffocating heat had been plaguing them for a few days now and the new, thinner clothes they’d managed to snatch at a roadside op shop were already filthy from sweat. The Disney shirt Vogel had been so excited about had been the first casualty and was now operating as a bright, pink sweat rag.  

 Martin, strangely enough, didn’t seem to be too affected by the heat. In saying that though, the boys had basically stripped down to their boxers the moment the temperature went over 40 degrees. Amanda still held a sneaking suspicion that the one reason they weren’t going commando was because of her and Beast.

 At her millionth deliberating sigh, Martin taps her on the shoulder and silently hands her a cigarette, gesturing to the window.

 ‘Do I look that bad?’ she mutters wryly and he shrugs, a small smirk gracing his features.

 Without any preferable option, Amanda leans out the window and breathes in the addicting scent of smoke. Martin uses a pretty shitty brand but it’s all she’s got and right now, it tastes like heaven. Like something akin pathetic fallacy – a big word she learned in high school that she never used again after graduating – a miraculous cool breeze sweeps by, ruffling her tied up hair so that strands break free from the hair tie and swirl around her face.

 ‘Thank you, universe,’ she breathes blissfully and then immediately regrets it because, as always, the universe just loves to mess with people. The moment the words leave her mouth, their air conditioner makes a horrible, sputtering grate of a sound and wheezes out a foul-smelling cloud of smoke. Martin smacks it with increasing severity and, after the third strike, knocks the grate clean off. The air conditioner does not restart.

 ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me.’ Amanda could cry. And she only cries at dogs dying and beautiful canyons. From the backseat, Vogel whimpers out a long exasperated groan that, with Beast’s help, quickly devolves into a strung-out growl.

 ‘The hell.’ The short, plaintive word is the only indication that Gripps isn’t dead.

 Cross is already clambering over the others and pushes in between Amanda and Martin in the front. For a second, he squints at the smoking mess of an AC.

 ‘Yep,’ he grunts. ‘That’s busted.’

 ‘Fuck,’ Amanda drags her hands down her face and then snatches up her phone. As always, the battery is dying but it’s got enough. ‘Google maps, don’t fail me now. There better be a mechanic close by.’

 Within a few minutes, she’s found one only a few miles away. It’ll mean a detour from their usual, instinct-driven route but if it means a working air conditioner, they’re more than willing. It’s when they’re only a few minutes away that Amanda stops mid-instruction at the sight of a sliver of blue.

 ‘It’s the ocean!’ Amanda bolts upright and sticks her head out the window, watching as a sandy bay sneaks into view.

 ‘What is that?’ Vogel, marginally less comatose, leans over Amanda and squints at it. From behind him, Gripps does the same and suddenly all of the rowdies are tumbling into the front and Martin’s screeching to a stop.

 ‘That’s one big lake,’ Gripps says. ‘Where are the giant ducks?’

 ‘That’s a lotta…’ Vogel fumbles for a word. ‘Yellow. What’s it doing there?’

 ‘It’s sand,’ Cross grins. ‘It’s wannabe dirt.’

 ‘That’s cool! I wanna touch it!’ and with that, Vogel’s out the door and running down to the bay. Whooping, Cross and Gripps follow, towing a confused and disoriented Beast behind them.

 ‘C’mon, Boss!’ Vogel shouts back around halfway down the hill and Amanda glances back at Martin. He shrugs.

 ‘Why not? It’ll cool them off.’ He says. ‘Go on and join ‘em. I can take the van myself.’

 ‘Really? We can always take it later.’

 ‘Sooner the better, right? Also-’ Martin pauses and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t do well with sand.’

 ‘How Skywalker of you,’ Amanda smiles at his confused expression as she hops down to the ground.

 ‘I don’t get it.’

 ‘Yeah, sorry. It’s a reference,’ she says. ‘But don’t go alone. At least take Beast with you.’

 Ever since Blackwing separated the rowdies, Amanda’s felt wary of letting any of them go anywhere alone. It’s a paranoia that she’s just a little bit embarrassed by but she would be perfectly happy if she was never separated from this family – her family – ever again. Conveniently, Martin is an emotionally-aware vampire and, maybe its because of that that he lightens the mood with a low chuckle.

 ‘Don’t think I’m scary enough to get a discount on my own?’

 ‘You?’ Amanda laughs. ‘Scary? Absolutely not.’

 ‘Oh?’ Martin produces a cigarette and lights it, fitting it snug between his lips.

 ‘You’re too lovable. Like a big dog.’

 He stares at her for a second, his jaw working around the cigarette, then shrugs, puffing out a wispy cloud of sweet smoke.

 ‘I can live with that.’

 ‘Boss! Look!’ Amanda turns at the sound of Vogel’s voice and comes face to face with a giant inflatable duck with some unfortunately drawn features.

 ‘Did you steal this?’

 ‘Nah, some guys threw it at us when we came near so we’re keeping it!’ Vogel’s face splits into a wide toothy grin. ‘It’s super cool!’

 Behind him, Gripps comes into view, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and glasses with blinds on them.

 ‘Drummer! There’s a clothes shop here! It’s crazy!’ he yells, gesturing down at a small shack down by the pier. ‘Look at this!’  And with that, he pulls the cord on the glasses and snaps the blinds shut. ‘My world is broken!’

 ‘Okay, please tell me you paid for this,’ Amanda pauses as she takes in the sight of the curtain glasses. ‘Actually, don’t. Don't tell me you used real money to get that.’

 ‘It’s a cash bash!’ Cross jumps in between them, smiling wide as he gestures to his new baseball cap that reads ‘Money Maker’. Amanda knows her face is wearing an expression but she has no idea what it is.

 ‘Why,‘ she says.

 ‘We paid, boss! Don’t worry, we used the money we stole from those bad suit guys before!’ Vogel shoves a handful of $50 notes in her face and bounds away like a hyper kangaroo. ‘Let’s go fight a fish!’

 Cross and Gripps whoop and bellow out their grunts of agreement and skid down the sandy bank. From behind her, Martin lets out a content chuckle and grabs a few notes from the bundle.

 ‘Guess I’ll be going then,’ he says. ‘Beast?’

 The rainbow-haired creature scurries up and leaps into the passenger seat with palpable relief. Beyond her, Martin sits back, turns the ignition and the van purrs into life. Amanda’s about to join her boys down at the beach when-

 ‘Oi, drummer.’

 ‘Yeah?’

 ‘Woof,’ he winks, deliberately, his smirk matching the quiet intensity of his eyes, and then the van’s gone, barreling down the road.

 It’s hot out, Amanda reminds herself as she makes her way down to the ocean. Flushed cheeks don’t mean a thing.

 --

 The beach-side clothes shop actually had a pretty decent selection, Amanda finds as she peruses their clothes racks.

 More than decent, in fact. Some strange few could say that it was in tune with the universe.

 After a few minutes, she emerges from the shop’s air conditioned depths wearing a worn-down ‘Mexican Funeral’ top and some skin-tight swimming bottoms. The top is thin and soft from age and the lettering is a bit cracked but, as Amanda flaps it to let a cool breeze in, she finds that it’s completely what she’d expect. The store clerk’s face had lit up when she’d handed it over for him to ring up – apparently the band was ‘super obscure’ but ‘totally underrated’ and it wouldn’t even be stocked if the guy hadn’t insisted to ship some in.

 Damned universe. Too nosy for its own good.

 I get it, she thinks to the universe as she sprints down to the water, picking up speed. Call your brother. But not right now. Right now-

 And here, she kicks off her boots, her socks and jumps –

 -right now, I’m cooling off.

 With a thunderous splash, she’s underwater and the change is instant - the water is shockingly cold, biting into her skin like a knife before her body catches up with the plunge in temperature. Bubbles foam around her in clouds and she grins, giddy off the relief of the sea on her burning skin and watches water rush past her as she boosts herself to the surface. She breaks into open air to the whoops and cheers of her boys. They’re all around her, wet and dirty and sweaty and hers and she bundles them into a tight, slippery hug, laughing and shouting with them as they drag her into their rhythm. It’s dumb, this is so dumb, playing like toddlers seeing the sea for the first time but then she remembers the years she spent in fear in her dim, crusty room and – even more than that – the boys, for them, this might be their first time so she lets the world go and blows raspberries into the air. Cross squeezes their inflatable duck ring around her and he and Gripps haul her up and carry her towards the horizon, like she’s a queen on a yellow plastic throne.

 ‘We’re fucking insane!’ Cross howls over the crash of the waves and they roar, together, with their squeaking inflatable duck and handfuls of seaweed and wet sand. High off exhilaration, Vogel dives underneath and pops out of the water with a starfish in each hand, giggling.

 ‘You’re a star, kid!’ Amanda speaks like a talk show host and Vogel beams.

 ‘I don’t know what that is!’ he hollers and in an instant, the starfish are chucked back into the water and he’s leaping at Amanda, arms outstretched. ‘Capsiiiize!’

 They go down like bowling pins, splashing back into the water. Amanda resurfaces, spitting out saltwater and picking seaweed out of her hair but she laughs and splashes Vogel right in his mischievous face.

 ‘You dick!’

 The plunge doesn't seem to slow down Cross and Gripp’s momentum and they drag up Vogel from under his armpits, slapping him on his back good-naturedly before they promptly dunk him back into the water. Instantly rebounding, Vogel flaps around his wet hair like a dog and smacks a clump of wet sand into Cross’ hair.

 It’s pretty dumb how much fondness she feels for these mud-slinging idiots. But she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of their reckless energy, their chaos that pumps life through her veins. Friends, family - they’re her boys and Amanda doesn’t think she could love them more. For a moment, a weird anxiety finds her (an attack? no, although she hates that she still feels a stab of fear at the thought of them) and she wonders if they know – she hopes they know how much she loves them.

 Suddenly, the ground is falling away and Amanda’s abruptly torn from her thoughts as Gripps unceremoniously chucks her onto his back.

 ‘Get yer head out of the clouds, drummer!’ he yells as he charges into the fray of the mudfight. ‘We gotta get some dirt on ya!’

 With bellows and laughter thrumming in her ears, Amanda leaves behind her cloudy thoughts and shrieks out a giddy battle cry.

 --

 Grant Brantley has worked at his little garage for a little over a decade. And maybe its because his business is right next to a tourist-magnet beach that brings in weirdoes from all over that makes his new customers a bit more normal. The man’s fine (even though his disproportionately-coloured hair is a bit odd). It’s more his friend that puts Grant off. She’s got brightly dyed hair and kind of a-a pale sort of complexion and he thinks she’s shaven off her eyebrows which makes her scurry-walk a bit more off-putting. Also she keeps on sniffing his tools. He just hopes she doesn’t start licking them.

 ‘Hey, um – ‘he turns to the man who said his name was Martin and then did not give a surname which makes Grant’s job a bit more difficult because usually he refers to the lads as misters but now he’s just gotta say ‘sir’ which makes him feel like a chimneysweep or a needy orphan and in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s older than Martin but what can you do? ‘-sir, your uh…could you please ask your friend to stop sniffing the merchandise? I swear they haven’t gone off.’

 It’s supposed to be a joke – an icebreaker, you know- but Martin nods, seriously, as if it's a legitimate concern.

 ‘Hey, Beastie,’ he clicks his fingers and the woman happily scuttles over, abandoning the outdoor display of wrenches. Grant thinks she’s talking to Martin but – god, she’s gotta be foreign, right? He can’t even understand what language he’s speaking. It sounds like she’s imitating a chain-smoking frog but – c’mon, Grant, don’t be mean, it’s not as if you’re a well-travelled bloke in the first place, what would you know about foreign culture. He chances a friendly smile at her and she returns it with a mouth of sharp teeth and a high whistle. Oh boy.

 ‘So,’ Martin clears his throat a bit awkwardly as he shifts on the step he’s sat upon. ‘How long will it take to fix the AC?’

 Thank god, familiar territory.

 ‘Oh, it’s a simple fix, really. An hour or so,’ Grant scratches his head thoughtfully as he takes in Martin’s hulking van. He thinks those are bullet holes peppered into its graffitied hide but honestly, he’s dealt with weirder.

 Upsell, he reminds himself, like those persuasive kids at the fast food places. ‘I could easily spruce up some stuff. She’s a bit of a clanker. And it won’t cost much more.’

 ‘Nah,’ Martin says not unkindly, and produces a battered pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his loose jeans. ‘Gotta get back soon.’

 Grant politely flicks out a lighter before Martin can and holds the flame steady for the other man. Martin nods appreciatively and, miraculously, Grant feels a bit less wary round the guy.

 ‘Got someone waitin’ for you?’ he says as he unlatches the car door and begins to work. From the corner of his eye, he sees Martin smile to himself.

 ‘Yeah, a few guys.’

 ‘And a girl, I bet,’ Grant replies. ‘Or a guy,’ he adds, catching himself at the sight of Martin’s odd expression. ‘Either is fine. Or none. I don’t mind. Love is love and all that.’

 He’s babbling now but Grant tends to get that way when he’s nervous. ‘Sorry, don't mean to impose. You looked mighty happy there is all. And don’t get me wrong, you can look happy about friends – I ain’t the type of guy to think we lads can’t have good, non-sexy relationships – but also, you know-’

 Martin laughs a small laugh but it’s got some mirth behind it so Grant trails off and hopes his furious backpedalling worked. The white-haired man puffs on his cigarette and leans his head to one side in a bit of a conceding shrug.

 ‘Yeah,’ he allows, after a second. ‘Yeah. I guess it’s a girl.’

 Martin doesn’t seem like he’s going to say any more on it so Grant doesn’t push it. Mentally, he breathes out a sigh of relief. Gosh, his big mouth has gotten him into problems in the past – he’s just glad that this time the weird guy seems alright. Might be the cigarettes. Hey, it might be a good idea to keep his supply stocked then, right? Right. Okay, good thinking, Brantley. Now suggest it without also implying he’s hooked because god knows you’ve come across some kooks who were adamant about their independence, honestly -

 ‘Hey, we’ve got some more cigs inside,’ Grant blurts out and gestures towards his little shop. ‘They’re right next to the cash register.’

 Martin looks surprised for a second.

 ‘Don’t think I’ll steal them? I’m just a stranger.’

 Grant shrugs.

 ‘They’re only $5. I’m not that hung up on money,’ he pauses. ‘Also I can see you through the window.’

 The white-haired man huffs out a chuckle. ‘Mm. Smart building design.’

 He stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets and gives an appreciative nod to Grant.

 ‘Thanks, Mr Brantley. Might take you up on your offer.’

 ‘Might?’

 ‘Gotta check the brands first,’ he grunts jokingly and he makes his way into the service shop.

 Grant turns back to the van and mentally dances a happy jig. He knows the type of guy Martin is – he’s met a wide bunch of people in this job – and that exchange was good, as in it was a Big Deal in its goodness. The guy feels less intimidating now that they’ve had that conversation. In fact, now he thinks he shouldn’t watch through the window in that half-looking-but-also-could-just-be-engrossed-in-the-rear-view-mirror way he’s cultivated.

 The choice of whether or not he spies on Martin, however, gets thrown to the side at the sound a familiar revving engine. Grant groans and puts his head in his hands. Really? Now?

 With a screech, a sleek, scarlet sports car rounds the corner and skids to a stop directly in front of the workshop. Its occupants, a group of four, tank-top wearing young men, clamber out with whoops and guffaws. Grant sees that one of their shirts simply reads ‘You Suck’. Another, who he knows has not served, is wearing dog tags on a necklace. One of the men, the shortest, steps forward and leers at Grant.

 ‘Hey, Mister Brantley,’ he sneers. ‘What’s up?’

 ‘Hello, Sherwood,’ Grant steps away from Martin’s van and approaches the teenager with a palpable reluctance. ‘Are you drunk again?’

 Immediately, Sherwood’s smile is replaced by a snarl and he jabs an accusatory finger at Grant.

 ‘Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?’ he hisses. ‘Don’t forget my dad owns these parts. You complain and I’ll kick your ass out of here. You’re already on thin ice with your asshat son.’

 ‘I’m –’ Grant sighs. This is the worst. ‘I’m not going to complain.’

 ‘Good,’ Sherwood sneers. ‘Go get me n’ my boys some smokes.’

 Grant is about to go in when he remembers – Martin. The white-haired man is staring at him over the countertop, a new pack of cigarettes in his hand, and from where he’s standing, Grant can see he’s put down a $5 bill next to the till. The older man shrugs, overcome by embarrassment, and brushes past Martin apologetically. With a sigh, he begins piling boxes of cigarettes into a plastic shopping bag.

 ‘They ain’t gonna pay for those, are they.’

 It’s more of a statement than a question really and Grant grimaces.

 ‘No. They’re not. But what can I do?’ He ties off the end of the bag with a forceful twist. ‘Charlie – that’s my boy, really smart kid, he’s gonna do great things – Charlie’s gotten into a fight with Sherwood over there. His dad owns this land and money ain’t real consistent – this is a tourist place, you know.’

 Grant doesn’t completely know why he’s telling Martin this stuff.

 Something about him makes you wanna spill your beans, he thinks to himself. Whether in fear or not.

 A striking yelp jolts him out of his thoughts and his gaze whips to the boys standing in his parking lot who are currently fending off a rainbow-haired woman. He sprints out of the shop to find her – Beast – circling them on all fours and forcing them back with intermittent snarls.

 ‘Ma’am!’ Grant calls out, a bit lost. ‘Uh-ma’am please uh-’

 Sherwood’s head shoots up at the sound of Grant’s voice.

 ‘Oi, Brantley!’ he shouts, furious. ‘Is she yours?!’

 ‘No! Sherwood, she’s uh – a customer- ’

 ‘A customer?’ one of Sherwood’s friends shrieks out. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

 ‘Bullshit!’ Sherwood screams and Beast answers with an even louder growl that sends the boys backing away towards their car. Sherwood levels an icy glare towards Grant. ‘Look at you, using this bitch to chase us off. You could’ve just given us the smokes, you dick!’

 ‘Sherwood, wait-’

 ‘Beast.’

 Martin steps out beyond Grant who is currently fumbling for words and approaches the woman. She whips around at his footsteps but immediately softens at the sight of him. Grant’s close enough to hear that she says something that sounds like ‘meanie’. Meanwhile, Sherwood and his friends have already slipped into their sleek car and with a round of middle fingers, they’re hurtling away at breakneck speeds.

 Grant still doesn’t know what just happened.

 ‘Oh boy,’ he whispers to himself and his legs fold under him. Martin looks over with a placated and somewhat remorseful-looking Beast beside him. ‘What a shitshow. Pardon my language.’

 ‘Sorry,’ Martin says.

 ‘Don’t trouble yourself, son,’ Grant gestures offhandedly as Martin takes a seat on the concrete next to him. ‘This was comin’ sooner or later. In fact, I wish I could’ve done it myself instead of your friend obliging.’

 ‘Mm,’ Martin hums in agreement. ‘That’d be a sight to see.’

 ‘You know, Sherwood really ain’t that bad either,’ Grant chortles at Martin’s expression. ‘Yeah, I know. He used to be an okay kid, though. I think he got messed up in something shady a while back and now he feels invincible. He just needs a bit of a wake up call.’

 Martin wordlessly picks at his teeth, as if attempting to dislodge a morsel of food. Beside him, Beast swings back and forth on her haunches.

 ‘You scared, Mr Brantley?’ he asks, quietly. ‘Sherwood’s probably gonna go tell his pa.’

 ‘Oh yeah, I’m a little fearful,’ Grant sighs. ‘But you gotta roll with these punches.’

 ‘Damn straight,’ Martin claps him on the back and gets to his feet and stretches, yawning wide.

 ‘Tired?’

 He shrugs.

 ‘Just ready for a meal.’

 --

 It’s around when Vogel’s finishing up on burying Cross in sand that Amanda notices the ice-cream.

 ‘Hey!’ she yells from where she’s floating on the inflatable duck. ‘Look! People have ice cream!’

 At her shout, a number of people give them weird looks but she’s used to it by now. Weird is good when it means you get a strip of beach all to yourself. Gripps arises from the shallows where he’s arranged seaweed on his forehead like a wig and scares a nearby unwitting couple.

 ‘We’ve got ice cream here?’ he says. ‘Why aren’t we eating it then dying from brainfreeze?’

 As if to demonstrate, Vogel flops to the ground in mock-unconsciousness, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth with carefree abandon.

 ‘Brainfreeze!’ he echoes and from underneath, Cross fist bumps his way out of his sandy casket.

 ‘Waffle cones!’ he yells and somehow produces a sun hat to slap over Vogel’s head. ‘They’re good crispy.’

 Amanda’s already wading up to meet them, dragging her loyal duck behind her as she approaches the still partially-buried Cross.

 ‘You still got the money, Money-maker?’ she asks wryly and he slings off his cap to show the notes stuffed into the seam.

 ‘You know it, boss,’ he flashes a toothy grin. ‘Get me a bubblegum.’

 ‘Sweet tooth,’ she pokes him on his nose and he laughs, loud and mischievous. Suddenly, Vogel drops into Cross’ lap and grabs Amanda’s face by her cheeks.

 ‘Pineapple for me, boss!’ he grins from ear to ear. From nearby, Gripps adds ‘And boysenberry!’

 ‘Boys-enberry!’ Vogel repeats and giggles at his own joke. ‘Boys!’

 Rolling her eyes, Amanda pecks Vogel on the forehead and revels in the brief silence that follows as he blinks up at her, beaming.

 ‘We get it, Vogel,’ she says then slinks out of his grip even as he laughs and whoops with the other boys.

 ‘Love you, boss!’ he calls after her and even though she groans from embarrassment and waves them away, Amanda can’t help the grin the creeps across her features.

 Surprisingly, the ice cream stall doesn't have a very long queue – probably because Amanda and her boys only noticed it after the big crowds left - and she gets to the front sooner than anticipated.

 ‘Cool shirt,’ the girl serving her comments and smiles at her. ‘They’re a great band.’

 ‘Yeah,’ Amanda slaps the dollar bills down on the counter and thinks passive-aggressively to the universe to chill. ‘I like your septum piercing.’

 ‘Oh! Thanks,’ she giggles and flicks her long aqua-blue pigtails over her back, revealing her own shirt that bears a faded illustration of a Rorschach symbol floating in an eyeball. Unbidden, Amanda feels a smile spread across her face. Good times.

 ‘Do you want these in a box?’ the girl asks, unaware of Amanda’s thoughts.

 ‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ Amanda says and then, just for good measure, she winks and adds in a secretive tone, ‘As good as I am with my hands, four at once is a bit much.’

 At that, ice-cream girl laughs, really laughs, and her tanned cheeks tinge with red.

 ‘Nice,’ she says and hands Amanda the holder full of ice cream cones with a smile. ‘Come again soon!’

 She doesn’t even get a block away from the stall before Amanda’s already licking her own salted caramel ice cream cone. The taste of it is sweet and relieving after a day of fish and chips and trashy oil-soaked food. Also, she got a strawberry cone and flavoured ice cream cones are one of the better inventions of humanity. The slap of her store-bought flip flops on the burning pavement and the cold creeping through her body from the ice cream leads her into an almost-mesmerising trance. As she walks, she makes up a tune to hum and its like merging a few of her favourite songs together, a mashup of the metal radio station the Oh No Van tunes into from time to time. For some reason, Amanda wonders what Martin would’ve chosen from the ice cream stall.

 Is there a nicotine flavor? she thinks to herself, wryly. But the thought brings back a memory from earlier that day – when Martin had given her the cigarette. And it’s as Amanda’s licking her rapidly melting ice cream that she remembers that it had already been lit and halfway done by the time he’d handed it to her. Which means -

 ‘Fuck!’ Amanda saves herself from tripping just in time and steadies the ice cream cones in their respective holders. There’s melted ice cream all over her hand now but there’s enough still in the cone that the boys will be happy. ‘Jeez, get yourself together.’

 From behind her comes a piercing wolf whistle.

 ‘Hey! Sweet cheeks! Bend over again!’

 Amanda’s eyes shoot open wide and she turns around excruciatingly slow to come face to face with two burly guys coming up behind her.

 ‘Excuse me?’ she’s trying to inject as much disgust as she can into the words, but apparently these idiots have skulls made of steel because nothing’s getting through it. They snort and guffaw at her expression. One air-thrusts at her.

 ‘Jesus Christ,’ Amanda mutters to herself then faces the two guys directly. ‘What is this, 2005? Get a hobby, you walking troglodytes.’

 The men make mockingly awe-struck gasps. The air-humper steps forward to close the distance between them.

 ‘Oooh, you know big words! Doesn���t make you better than us.’ he says in a sing-song tone. Amanda considers stuffing her icecream down his throat and decides it’d be too kind. ‘And we were just being nice. Jesus, learn how to take a compliment.’

 ‘It doesn’t take much to be better than you,’ Amanda replies coldly. ‘Knowing big words like ‘troglodyte’ should immediately put me out of your league.’

 The man’s smile falls instantly and he makes a grab for her shoulder but she’s already dodged and is considering kicking his incredibly kick-able groin when the familiar growl of an engine roars up behind her.

‘Drummer,’ Martin says in acknowledgement. Beyond him, Beast waves furiously with a new wrench which still has its price tag stuck on. ‘Nice ice creams.’

 ‘Thanks.’

 Martin glances at the two men standing before them and his gaze instantly cools by a few degrees. Even though they’re obviously wary of the newcomer, the two guys have stuck around which either makes them even more idiotic than she originally thought or – nope, they’re just idiots.

 ‘ ‘s there a problem?’ he asks, his tone icy.

 ‘I don’t know,’ Amanda turns back to look at the pair of walking examples of toxic masculinity and raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Is there?’

 The two guys mumble something incoherent – probably an insult of some kind – but they hurry past, their pace quickening the longer Martin stares after them.

 ‘Troglodytes,’ she mutters.

 ‘Nice insult.’

 ‘I learnt it off a TV show.’

 ‘Even better.’

 ‘Oi! Boss!’ Vogel comes barreling up the hill and it’s only Amanda’s quick reflexes that save the ice cream cones from being toppled onto the pavement. He steers around quickly, leaping up onto the hood on the van in one swift motion and waves at the occupants inside. ‘You found Martin and Beastie!’

 ‘And you got my Bubblegum!’ Cross snatches his cone from the box quickly and immediately bites into the ice cream. His ensuing expression is somehow triumphant and regretful at the same time. For some reason, Gripps does the exact same thing for his cone and does not get different results.

 ‘Hey, drummer,’ Cross manages to say as he recovers. ‘What was up with those brickheads that were here just now?’

 Martin clicks his tongue in disgust and taps the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

 ‘They were peacocking, boys,’ he says grimly and the resulting wave of disapproving growls is deafening.

 ‘Way old school,’ Gripps mutters. ‘Way crusty.’

 ‘Damn tail-flickers,’ Vogel seconds.

 Cross licks his lips and glares after the retreating forms of the two men.

 ‘Anybody else hungry?’ he hisses and the other rowdies bellow in agreement, already moving to chase after them.

 ‘Boys.’

 And like that, they halt, shifting to Martin for direction even though Vogel’s foot still taps away on the concrete, impatient.

 ‘We got a bigger meal waiting for us,’ he smirks dangerously and the rowdies erupt in cheers and congratulatory roars, already clambering into the hollow depths of the van. ‘Ready for dinner?’

 With a fond lick and snicker, Beast vacates her seat for Amanda and leaps into the back to curl up on the red velvet floor. Amanda settles herself into the leathery front seat, slams the car door behind her and turns the AC up to the max setting, whistling appreciatively at the blast of cold air sweeping through the van.

 ‘You’ve been busy, haven’t you?’ she grins at Martin and he answers with a toothy chuckle.

 ‘I get around,’ he replies then slams on the ignition, lurching forward and bellowing over the growing howls of their rowdies.

 ‘Now who’s hungry for take-out?!’

 --

 Amanda wolfs down the last of her Chinese food from its plastic box and sinks back into the sand with a content sigh. At her left, the six-pack of beer she bought at the convenience store remains submerged in a blue plastic bucket Vogel had stolen and filled with cold seawater.

 ‘Beer over sandcastles,’ he’d reasoned as he handed it to her. She couldn’t really argue with that.

 It’s cooled down now that the evening’s creeping in and she appreciates the cool breeze. It’s a bit of a relief to relax after pummeling those frat boys into the hood of their own car. Amanda’s hand automatically twitches at the memory of swinging Beast’s wrench into the headlight and laughing as the glass had showered over her.

 Kind of dangerous, now that she thinks about it. But she made it out unscathed. So it was probably universally predestined to happen. Amanda grabs a beer bottle and lifts it up to the sky in a toast.

 Rest in peace, car, she thinks to herself then downs a mouthful. I barely knew thee.

 Quietly, she reflects on the pit stop they made before returning to the beach: a garage owned by a Mr Brantley who she only knew from overhearing Martin’s brief conversation with him. Seemed like a sweet guy. Owned a decent brand of smokes. And he’d patted Martin’s shoulder like he was his dad, despite them seeming to be around the same age. Weirdest thing about it was that Martin let him.

 The sun peeks out from behind a purple-pink cloud and she squints. Nearer to the horizon, her rowdies are still splashing in the ocean with their boundless energy. They’re the only ones still there seeing as most of the beach-goers had left around an hour ago but they make enough noise that it would be easy to mistake a crowd still remaining. The stragglers still tend to give them a wide berth and it suits them just fine. Struck by inspiration, Amanda sits up and she howls, letting her voice taper off into the sky. To her utmost joy, her family answers with matching enthusiasm.

 One of them breaks off from the pack and lopes up to sit on the bank next to her. Wordlessly, she hands him a bundled-up dry shirt she’d been using as a pillow to dry off his sopping wet hair with.

 ‘How are you still wearing your glasses?’

 Martin grunts and points at the green band tying the legs together behind his head.

 ‘Rubber bands. Versatile.’

 ‘Uh huh. But you still can’t see with all the droplets on them.’

 He shrugs and ruffles out his semi-dry hair into a comically fluffy-looking mohawk.

 ‘Survived through worse. Remember the red goggles?’

 Amanda laughs at the memory but the reminder of Wendimoor sends her thoughts towards someone else. She sinks back into the sand with a low groan.

 Todd.

 They’d parted ways after the Wendimoor escapade a few weeks ago and she’d promised to check in from time to time. But, somehow, the prospect of a first phone call after recently making up with him is scary as shit. The stupid thing is that she can’t even put her finger on what is so terrifying about it. They’d sent each other little dumb texts (mainly pictures of the new detective agency and then games of ‘Spot Mona in this messy workplace!’) in the first week and a half but even that mode of communication had died out. Yeesh. ‘Died out’. Bad choice in words, considering the trouble they got themselves into.

 Speaking of that, Todd could be on a new case right now. Todd could be in trouble.

 And yet, she still doesn’t want to call.              

 Amanda sits herself up, shaking sand out of her hair, to find Martin staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

 ‘What?’

 ‘I can hear you thinking there, drummer,’ he mutters softly. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

 She runs a hand through her hair sheepishly.

 ‘I’ve gotta call my brother.’

 ‘Toad?’

 ‘His name is Todd. But Toad totally works. He’ll love it.’

 Martin looks out thoughtfully towards the horizon.

 ‘You’ve got time. Phone’s in the van right now.’

 Amanda chews on her lip for a second.

 ‘I mean. I could always do it tomorrow.’

 ‘Putting it off isn’t very punk.’

 ‘Oh, fuck off,’ she snickers and punches him in the arm good-naturedly. She’s 90% sure he doesn’t even feel it.

 ‘C’mon, drummer,’ he continues. ‘What’s keepin’ you?’

 Her smile falters and her eyes dart down, away. It’s personal, this stuff, family stuff. But she’s gotta face this at some point, doesn’t she? And here, in the dying sunlight with a fresh pack of beer…

 She knocks her head back and gulps down the rest of bottle’s contents, hissing as it burns on the way down. On her left, Martin watches her with a half-cocked eyebrow.

 ‘Okay, so,’ she slams her hands down as she starts but they kind of just disturb a sand pile which irks her a bit. ‘Me n’ Todd have technically made up but like, there’s still a lot of weird boundaries here and I don’t know, my head’s still not the greatest and I-’

 She trails off as she looks over at Martin. He’s listening, really listening, with his eyes trained directly on her and his genuine intensity makes an irrational guilt rise up in her.

 Stop sidestepping the issue, she tells herself and sighs.

 ‘I’m scared of getting close to him again,’ she says finally. ‘Old Todd was a complete shithead built entirely on lies. And New Todd is…new. And I know he’s trying. But I don’t know how New Todd is going to be.’

 Amanda looks out towards the horizon. She feels tired, for some reason. There’s something else she wanted to say, something about her not wanting to get hurt again, but that seems a bit too cheesy. And, as she looks over to gauge Martin’s reaction, she finds her eyes meeting his and she feels like he already knows.

 Damn emotion-sensing vampires.

 He releases a gravelly sigh and looks out at the sea as well. His glasses have dried off somewhat and now they shine, reflecting the weakening sunlight onto his well-defined features.

 ‘You won’t know until you try,’ he says after a little while. ‘Give it a shot. It’ll be better than nothing.’

 ‘Will it?’

 ‘You don’t let opportunities pass you by, drummer,’ at this, he turns to her and grins. ‘You tie a note to a brick and throw it at them.’

 ‘…sweet talker,’ she mumbles because it makes her smile, as dumb as it is, and she props her elbows on her knees, trying to hide the dusting of red spreading across her cheeks.

Dammit, he’s right. Or she’s right. At some point, her wariness had lessened and now she thinks it’s the only course of action really left for her. The fear’s still there, simmering, but it’s tolerable. And god, she’s faced down psychopathic shape witches and, even worse, dudebros so what the hell. With a purposeful exhale, she dusts the sand off her knees and gets to her feet.

 ‘Okay. I’m doing it,’ she announces and Martin nods in encouragement.

 ‘It’s in the cupholder,’ he says and turns away, giving her privacy as she makes her way up to the van parked behind them.

 Amanda’s grateful he doesn’t follow. This is something she needs to do alone. Desperately, she remembers what she’s about to do and her brain races to formulate a plan but, goddamnit, the walk to the van really isn’t that long and then she’s there, the phone is in her hand and she’s punching in Todd’s phone number.

 Amanda breathes out a shaky exhale, her other hand clenching into a fist at her side, and then hits the green call button.

 --

 ‘Dirk, there a lot of black cats out there,’ Farah explains exasperatedly. On the opposite side of the diner table, Dirk stops shoveling his strawberry pancakes into his mouth and looks up, eyes twinkling with inspiration.

 ‘Maybe we can make an ad specifically catered to black cats associated with a range of disappearances or gorey murders!’ After a second, Dirk’s beaming expression falters. ‘Wait, actually –’

 ‘Why are we even using our resources on this?’ Todd interrupts as he picks at his own scrambled eggs and toast. Farah gives him a pointed look.

 ‘Because it’s a liability! We’ve got to take care of loose ends!’ she explains. ‘And, maybe we can harness its-its sharkness and use that for ourselves!’

 ‘I don’t know, Farah,’ Todd mutters. ‘I don’t think it’ll be that easy to control kitten-shark. Because, you know, it’s literally a shark in a kitten. Like, what if we forget to take out its litterbox one day? Do we just get chomped?’

 Dirk lifts up his maple-syrupy fork in his I-have-a-point-to-make way.

 ‘But Todd, I should say this,’ he says. ‘The kitten-shark did seem to like me. Maybe I’m the key!’

 ‘Yeah and what a shocker that would be,’ Todd says wryly and moves to pick up his fork so that he can eat more of his meal. Immediately, Dirk slaps him hard on his shoulder. ‘Whoa, what the hell?’

 ‘That’s. Mona!’ Dirk states deliberately and holds up an identical fork. ‘This is your fork!’

 ‘How can you even tell?’

 Dirk blinks at him, wide-eyed.

 ‘It’s obvious!’

 Before Todd can succinctly point out why that is such bullshit, his phone buzzes loudly from its place by his plate and he nearly forgets how to breathe when he sees the caller ID.

 ‘Holy shit!’ he says, snatching it up. ‘Oh my god, it’s Amanda!’

 ‘Oh, amazing!’ Dirk claps his hands together giddily and reaches for the phone. ‘We haven’t spoken to her in ages!’

 ‘Wait what? No-I-just let me-’ Todd hits the answer button quickly and gets out of their booth, striding into a quieter, more private area. ‘Amanda? Amanda, are you okay?’

 ‘Uh. Yeah. Just calling to check in with you,’ It’s thin and tinny but it’s her voice, not the voice of some would-be kidnapper, so Todd breathes a sigh of relief. ‘I call for things other than disasters, Todd.’

 ‘Yeah,’ he laughs, a bit nervous. ‘Sorry. Habit, you know.’

 ‘Right,’ she says and it’s kind of awkward but a background noise catches his attention.

 ‘Are those…waves?’

 ‘Yeah, I’m at a beach. It was super hot today and our AC broke so we’re hanging out here now.’

 ‘And how are your uh-,‘ Todd fumbles for a word for her gang. ‘-your friends?’

 ‘The rowdies? Oh, they’re loving it. They’re like, half naked and just fucking around in the water,’ Amanda’s voice gains a conspiratorial tone. ‘I’m including Beast in this description by the way so you can report back to Dirk.’

 Todd sniggers as he imagines how Dirk would react to the insinuation.

 ‘Sounds like you guys are having a good time.’

 ‘We are! Well, most of us. Martin doesn’t like sand.’

 ‘Wow, very Skywalker,’ he replies and smiles at the sound of Amanda’s laugh.

 ‘Yeah, that’s what I said!’ she says and, yet again, there’s a short, tense silence. ‘So uh, how’s it going on your end?’

 ‘Oh, well, we’re at a diner right now: me and Dirk and Farah. Dirk got a huge stack of strawberry pancakes that he’s definitely gonna regret soon.’

 ‘Pancakes? Isn’t it kinda late for that?’

 ‘Yeah, Dirk says evening pancakes are a thing. Mona’s here too but I’m still not entirely sure what she is,’ Todd squints back at his booth from which Dirk furiously waves with a fork that could or could not be Mona.

 ‘Sweet. So no new case yet?’

 ‘Well, you know how it works. A case’ll come when it wants to.’

 Amanda snorts.

 ‘Soooo you guys are just sitting on your asses?’

 ‘No! We-we’re trying to find the kitten-shark right now. Farah says it’s a liability we’ve gotta take responsibility of.’

 ‘Dude, it’s been ages. That kitten is long gone. Although, I guess you can’t really argue when Farah’s in charge,’ she adds sympathetically. Todd nods in agreement then realizes she can’t see him.

 ‘Yeah, she can be really scary.’

 ‘But also scary hot.’

 ‘Amanda!’ he splutters and over the line she breaks into laughter. Again, it devolves into a strained sort of silence before Amanda coughs a bit self consciously.

 ‘Um. How have you been feeling, Todd?’ she says. ‘The attacks, they-’

 ‘Yeah, uh,’ Todd continues. ‘You know, they’re a thing. But the pills help. Yep.’

 A pause.

 ‘This is weird,’ Todd says.

 ‘So weird,’ Amanda seconds. ‘I need to be like, 200% more drunk for this.’

 ‘You’re drunk?’

 ‘How do you think this phone call is even happening?’

 ‘True. I should’ve guessed that.’

 ‘You’re part of a detective agency, man.’

 ‘Technically, the detective part is all Dirk.’

 ‘Doesn’t mean you can slack off, slacker.’

 The ensuing silence is marginally less awkward. Todd counts that as a win.

 ‘I think I need to go soon,’ Amanda says quickly and Todd rushes to respond.

 ‘Oh! Okay!’ he says. ‘Um. Stay safe! And uh – wear protection?’

 For a second, there’s just the sound of waves coming in from Amanda’s end then-

 ‘What. The fuck, Todd.’

 ‘I-I don’t know what you guys do so-!’

 ‘Are you fucking kidding m-’Amanda makes a soul-crushing groan. She kind of sounds like she’s dying. ‘We’re not, like, having orgies 24/7 or something, Todd! Jesus Christ!’

 ‘-you never tell me what you do! I’m just trying to cover all bases, here.’

 Another silence, this one more weighted than the others.

 ‘Was that a fucking pun.’

 ‘What?’

 ‘I can’t believe you!’

 ‘That was not – I mean, I guess it was – ’

 ‘You made a pun about - ’

 ‘- it was absolutely not intentional – ’

 ‘Okay, I am definitely leaving right now. Bye.’

 ‘Wait, Amanda!’ Todd exclaims and exhales in relief as the sound of the ocean doesn’t immediately cut off. Amana breathes out a despairing sigh.

 ‘Yeah?’

 Todd swallows down his nervousness.

 ‘I love you, Amanda. Thank you for calling,’ he says quietly. On the other end, the sound of waves. He’s getting used to the silences now. ‘You don’t have to answer or anythi-‘

 ‘Love you too, Todd,’ she blurts out. ‘Bye.’

 And then she’s gone and Todd is left feeling oddly satisfied with what was, all in all, a very strange conversation.

 ‘Yes!’ he hisses to himself and skips back over to his booth. Dirk and Farah look at him expectantly.

 ‘Well?’ Dirk asks. Todd grins mischievously.

 ‘Amanda wants you to know they’re at a beach and Beast is half naked.’

 ‘Oh for god’s sakes – ‘

 --

 Amanda nearly cracks her screen with how forcefully she ends the phone call and throws the device unceremoniously into the glovebox. Jesus Christ, her face is still red and she buries it in her hands for a good few seconds, desperately willing away the embarrassment.

 ‘Wear protection’. God.

 Still. That end part. That was okay.

 With a sigh, she closes the car door and climbs down the sandy slope. Martin doesn’t seem to have moved but now he’s smoking a fresh cigarette and he gestures for her to sit down.

 ‘I’m guessing it went well, then,’ he says as she slumps into the ground beside him.

 ‘Well yeah but you are an emotionally-conscious vampire,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘No need to guess.’

 ‘You’re smiling, drummer. Doesn’t take my abilities to know,’ he chuckles as she sputters in embarrassment. ‘Aaand there it goes.’

 ‘You’re so...’ Amanda grumbles, turning away. ‘May sand eternally plague you.’

 ‘Mm. Very ‘celestial punishment’. I like it.’

 In response, she kicks a wave of sand over his legs. Annoyingly, he doesn’t even move.

 ‘C’mon, drummer,’ he hands her a fresh bottle of beer from the bucket. ‘Truce.’

 She squints at him suspiciously and then snatches it out of his hands. Appeased, he leans back on his haunches and puffs out a cloud of smoke, content. For some reason, it strikes her in that moment as she sips from her bottle how bestial he really feels. Not savage, not like that. It’s more like he embodies the slow grace of a natural hunter, a predator. Eternally watchful.

 Amanda wonders, in her stupor of silent contemplation, if he came to her because she howled for him.

 ‘Somethin’ wrong, drummer?’

 She didn’t even notice that he’d moved to look back at her.

 ‘Just wondering if we’re leaving soon.’

 He shrugs and inclines his head towards her.

 ‘It’s your call. Remember, drummer, you’re the boss.’

 She laughs, shortly.

 ‘The boss? It took me a whole day to hype myself up for a phone call. With my brother.’

 ‘You did it, though. That’s something.’

 From him, the phrase somehow doesn’t seem like an empty platitude. Amanda stares at him for a second then sighs, conceding. And maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s how she’s so emotionally vulnerable after that phone call that she started waxing poetry. All she knows is that she suddenly feels very tired and she leans into Martin, her head sliding into the crook of his neck. His skin is still damp from the sea and the water seeps into her hair like cool, massaging fingers.

 ‘This doesn’t feel real,’ she whispers, her voice barely audible. ‘Any moment now, I’ll wake up in my bedroom and go through my list of pills to take and walk around my dumb, tiny house with the door that’s always locked and-’

 Amanda trails off as she feels the comforting weight of Martin’s fingers stroke through her hair.

 ‘It’s real, drummer,’ he says gruffly. ‘We’re here.’

 On any other day, this would seem impossible. But today, Amanda smashed a car, broke a frat boy’s nose, drank two bottles of bucket beer and made a phone call to her brother. So she can’t really help herself from leaning up and kissing Martin lightly on his cheek, smiling at the feeling of his bushy beard scratching at her skin. And then she’s on her feet and running down to the waves, joining her rowdies who welcome her with shouts and cheers, desperately affirming to her that this is her life, this is real, and she captures each one’s face in her hands and kisses them on their forehead, their nose, their cheeks.

 ‘I love you,’ she whispers into them and they hear and celebrate with whoops and laughter and glee and there’s no more silence. No more empty, cramped house in her mind, no pills, no lies.

 It can’t be a dream. She knows this now. Her mind couldn’t have even imagined this, much less force it onto her in her sleep.

 And then Martin is there, picking her up and swinging her around, his hand solidly placed on her back to hold her close and she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing into his skin. She makes a deep happy sigh and giggles.

 ‘I am so drunk,’ she says and she falls back, knowing with an unfailing certainty that her family will be there to catch her before she hits the water.

#its a long one guys #like a little over 8.5 k #god i havent written that much in so long #i hope you guys like this #i worked really hard on it #and i thought that we might all need some good family vibes to remind ourselves that the dghda family tag is pure as heck #i love you all very very much #tell me what you think too! #of the fic #thank you guys #i'll stop now #dirk gently #dghda #dghda family #lindigo #lindigo fics #drummerwolf #the rowdy 3 #martin #jacob vogel #cross #gripps #farah black #todd brotzman #amanda brotzman

[aligalloo]

A Day at the Pitch

Pairing: Vikkstar123 x reader (established) Word count: 1,279 Warnings: Couple of swears Requested: Yes! Requests: Open (see below for who you can request)

Y/N: Your name

Vikk and I have been dating for about a year now, and I couldn’t be happier.  He was everything I could ask for in a guy, and he came with six amazing sidekicks who always treat me with the utmost respect.  Wait, hang on... Only one part of that is true, sorry.  You’ll soon see why.  

One morning, I am abruptly woken from my slumber when Simon barges into Vikk’s room.

“Rise and shine sleepyheads! Today’s the day we bring back the crossbar challenge!”

I throw a pillow at him.  “Go away you monster” I roll my eyes and pick up my phone to look at the time... “Holy SHIT, it’s 7 am! Are you fucking insane? How are you so cheerful?”

Simon just laughs, “Wake your boy toy up and meet us downstairs in an hour, we leave at 8.”

I give him the finger as he leaves the room and flop back into bed, crawling into my boyfriend’s arms again.  He stirs and slowly opens his eyes, “Good morning Y/N,” he says softly, in his completely adorable husky morning voice.  

I peck him on the lips gently, “Simon wants us downstairs and ready to go in an hour.”

“I know,” he smiles, “I was awake, I just didn’t want to deal with a cheerful Simon at 7 am.”

“You prick!” I exclaim, laughing and smacking him lightly on the nose. “It’s a distressing experience, how could you leave me alone?”

Vikk rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom, “You know you love me, Y/N,” he calls out through the door.  

“Do I though?” I mutter ominously under my breath, but secretly I am grinning to myself.

We make it downstairs at 7:55 and head to the kitchen, where Josh, JJ, Simon and Ethan are waiting. “Good morning Y/N, Vikk.  How did you sleep?” Simon asks innocently.

“Very well, thanks, at least until you came and rudely interrupted!” The annoyance in my voice is audible, but Simon doesn’t take the hint.

“Did you have a busy night you two?  I wondered what the noises I could hear were...”

“Oi! Give it a break Simon,” Josh tells him sternly.  “It’s far too early for any of us, you’re not alone,” he says, smiling at us.

“Thank god for that then,” I sigh, grabbing some cereal and inhaling it. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” JJ replies, “Harry and Tobi are meeting us at the pitch.”

“Is everyone ready?” Josh asks.  A chorus of affirmations is heard as we all trudge out and get in the cars that we’re taking.

I’m squished between Vikk and Simon in the back of one of the cars.  This is unfortunate, as it is one of Simon’s favourite pastimes to annoy the crap out of me.  I huddle up to Vikk as he pokes me in the side.

“For God’s sake, Simon, leave her alone,” Josh says, exasperated.  

“Yes Dad,” Simon grins mischievously, but keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the journey.

“Thank goodness, we made it without any deaths,” Vikk sighs, getting out of the car and grabbing my hand to help me out.

The boys head out to the pitch to get the cameras set up for the videos.  I look at my phone and groan, as it’s still not even 9 am.  “Why am I here?” I think to myself as I sit in the front seat of the car and scroll through Twitter.  I hear two more cars pull up, and see Tobi hop out of one, while Harry and his girlfriend Katie emerge from the other.

“Oh my god!” I yell, running over to her, “It’s been too long.”

“Hi Y/N,” Katie laughs, pulling me in for a hug. “I’m so glad to see you, I thought I was going to be all alone today with all the testosterone.”

Giggling, we head out to the pitch, following Tobi and Harry, who both have their camera equipment with them.  I’m desperate to catch up on all her gossip, as she is with me.  When we reach the boys, I go over to Vikk and whisper in his ear, “Good luck, you’ll be great.”

“What do I get if I do well?” He asks, smiling cheekily at me.

I wink at him as I walk back towards Katie, “You’ll just have to wait and see!”

I sit with Katie through what seems like only a few minutes of filming.  We cheer for our boys and boo when the others do something better.  After they finish filming the first video, Vikk comes over and flops down on the grass beside me.  Katie has gone to congratulate Harry, so we’re alone for the moment.

“Well that was shit,” Vikk sighs, looking up at me.  I lean down, for what I was intending to be a quick kiss.  He ignores my efforts to get away, and pulls me down onto him, deepening the kiss.  The boys let out a few wolf whistles and I flip them off, sitting up from my position on top of Vikk and struggling to regain my breath.

“Gross, you’re all sweaty,” I murmur to him, running my fingers through his hair

“Yeah, I know,” He replies, sitting up and moving next to me.  “I wish I’d done better in that round though, it kind of gets old when they constantly make fun of me.”

“You did fine,” I say comfortingly, “And besides, you’ve got at least two more videos to prove yourself.”

“Yep!” He says, perking up slightly.  “Anyway, I should get back out there or we’ll be hear all day.”

He stands up and I follow him towards the others.  “Good job everyone, keep it up!”

They film a few more videos, with Vikk getting progressively better.  Each time they take a break, I go over to him and offer words of encouragement.  These seem to help, and by the end of the day, he’s much happier than he had been in the morning.  Soon enough, the boys wrap up their filming, and we decide to go and grab some food.  We end up at Nandos, but everyone’s exhausted so we just get takeaways and head back to the Sidemen house.  

After eating, and all the usual banter it entails (read: Simon annoying the crap out of everyone and Josh getting fake-pissed at him), the non-residents of the house get up to leave.  

“See you soon, yeah?” I tell Katie as we hug goodbye, “I don’t want to not see you for three months again.”

“Oh my, yes.  I’ll text you later.” She replies, giving me an extra squeeze.

The rest of the goodbyes are exchanged, and the three exhausted boys and one well-rested girl head home to their respective houses.  Simon and JJ decide to play some Fifa, while Josh heads upstairs to call Freya.

“What do you want to do now?” I ask Vikk, as he leads me slowly up the stairs after Josh.

“Didn’t you promise me a reward if I did well in the games today?” He winks at me as we reach his bedroom door.

“Yesss,” I reply slowly, walking over to the bed. “Why, what do you have in mind?”

I hear the door click shut and the next thing I know, Vikk has pushed me onto the bed and is lying on top of me with his hands wandering south.

“Ah, I may have a few ideas,” He smirks.

I grin, and reach up to pull his head down to mine, “You better make it worth my while,” I whisper in his ear, making him shiver.

Needless to say, it is a very enjoyable evening for all involved.

-fin-

I am taking requests for: Sidemen, sidemen of the sidemen, WillNE, Buttercream Boys, Dan and/or Phil

#sidemen imagine #vikkstar123 imagine #willne imagine #miniminter imagine #vikkstar x reader #joe sugg imagine #aleena's imagines

[thegreatlarryfisherman]

Can I Be Him? // Chapter Nine

2,600 words. The second to last chapter of Can I be Him has arrived. Our reader has finally confessed to the boys that she can’t make her choice.... Drunk... In a club... How will they react when they find out that this “competition” of sorts was in vain? 

Warning: Smutless Chapter, Alcohol Assumption, mentions of polyamory, your final cliff hanger of the series before an extremely smutty Epilogue. 

Tagging: @jletolove4eva (First and foremost because she was the one who requested this fic), @meghan12151977, @auntiemama1, @babiiface16, @anxiouslyyoursdidi (whose name I stole for the sake of our reader’s best friend), @thefirethatfreezesme, @pezziecoyote, @gottalovetheletos, @snewsome756, @fuck-yeah-30secondstomars, @msroxyblog (<- Hey there!) 

Di watched me swallow an entire bottle of vodka with disgust. I wiped the liquid from my mouth before I looked over at her. “What?”

“Nothing. I just think you should probably sober up before we get to the club. You know you’re gonna wanna order more drinks.” She replied pointedly before she gestured her back. “Zip me up?” I wobbled over to her and bit my lip as I zipped her dress up. Giving it a lot of thought, Shannon would’ve loved Di. She had curves, she had big hair, she was gorgeous. Too bad she was married. “Checking me out back there?” Our eyes met in the mirror and she smiled quirkily at me. My best friend wouldn’t do that to me. She would’ve never went for Shannon knowing that I was in love with him. She was after all, my favorite. “Come on, let’s go!”

Why was this so heavily on my mind? I took one last swig of the bottle of vodka before letting it fall to the carpet.

//

Stumbling out of the club bathroom, I giggled as I gripped the railing near the dance floor and slowly stepped down. Slowly, I twirled to the music and in seconds was lost in the beat. I knew Shannon was the one slamming on the drums next to the DJ booth and I chanced a glance at his sweaty arms, flailing hair, gorgeous face. His eyes met mine and his tongue made a lewd motion against his lips.

“You want me to make you feel good, Little Girl?” He soft voice taunted as I moaned around the gag.

I shook myself out of my imagination and slowly but surely made my way to the dance floor. From his place in the VIP section, I noticed Jared taking a sip of the drink in his hand as he eyed me. I bit my lip, nearly slipping over my own shoes as I turned away from him and closed my eyes.

Jared’s voice filled the club loudly. “You were the love of my life, darkness for light.” The song was halfway through and I hadn’t even noticed it was playing. I didn’t want to focus on the lyrics. I just wanted to dance. Closing my eyes, I put my hands up and began swaying my hips back and forth to the music. “I’ll wrap my hands around your neck so tight, we’ll love, love, love.”

My heart sped up when I felt the hands wrap around my hips and I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder to see which one of them it was. I simply danced harder, trying to tell myself that I had to make a choice. As intoxicated as I felt, I simply just wanted to clear my head. I began singing to the music, hearing the voices of a few fans around me doing the same. I wondered if either of the guys mentioned that they’d be coming to the club. Did anyone know which Leto was grazing his fingertips down my body?

When the song ended, I heard the panting in my ear. It was slightly unfamiliar. Maybe I’d riled one of them up too much.

“You sound nice.” The voice said but my heart fell when I realized that it was neither Leto Brother who had been putting their hands all over me. I spun around in his arms and frowned when a complete stranger was standing before me with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Who the hell are you?!” I exclaimed.

“You seemed like you were having a party so I accepted your invite.”

“Gross.”

“Hey, you’re in a club, what did you really expect?” He demanded and grabbed my elbow as I started to walk away.

“I’ve got mace.” I threatened before he chuckled. “HANDS OFF.” I screamed and Di came rushing up.

“What the hell is going on?” Her eyes widened as Jared approached us, danger in his eyes as he slid into the space behind the guy.

“Everything okay?” He asked me directly and I bit my lip as the guy slowly started to release his grip. “How about you take a fucking walk before my brother and I break your goddamn jawline off.” He spoke quietly enough where no one around us could hear, but loud enough that he could get heard over the music. I glanced at Di whose eyes widened again before she backed up a bit.

“Your man’s about to kick his ass.” She said softly to me and I shook my fuzzy brain as I scoffed and started toward the exit.

“Y/N, WAIT!” Jared called out and I slowly turned around. “What the hell were you doing with that guy?” The pressure was on. God, all I ever wanted to do was forget this arrangement and possibly even get more drunk.

“GO away, Jared.”

“What’s going on?” I heard Shannon’s voice before I saw him, covered in sweat walking up to us. “Babe. Where you going?”

“She’s upset.” Jared said, glancing around before he guided me through the large dance floor to the area he’d been sitting in. “What’s going on with you? What happened?”

Shannon’s eyes were staring at me intensely and Jared’s blue orbs were piercing into me like a hot knife. I had been avoiding them ever since Shannon had told me he loved me because I simply could not decide. “I can’t choose.” I finally confessed.

There was a long silence before both men looked at me. I waited, not speaking any words as I watched them.

“What do you mean you can’t choose?” Jared exclaimed. “The whole point of this is for you to choose!”

“Stop yelling at her. She’s drunk.” Shannon threw his hand up, as if to give in. “Aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t choose. I can’t choose. I don’t know how. The pressure is too much and I don’t want to choose the wrong one!”

“Baby, there is no wrong one.” Jared rushed to my side and put his hands in a pleasing way toward me. “Please, you’ve gotta calm down. You need to calm down and you need to just… Think about what’s going on.” There was nothing wrong with me. I was calm. I was just tired of hearing that the two men I’d spent my entire life with loved me and I couldn’t have both. Even despite the fact that I’ve been with both for the past month, almost.

“And you need to put this—“ Shannon took the cup from my hand. “Down.” I glared at him.

“I’m sorry. If I really have to pick…. I don’t want either.” I insisted and Shannon sighed softly as he looked over at Jared. Jared’s shoulders were racing and his eyes were racing back and forth between myself and everything behind me as if he was trying to calm down his panic.

“Why….?” He finally said in a soft voice, sadness taking its residence on his face as he watched me closely. “What did we do wrong?”

“Nothing!” I insisted. Of course they’d never understand why I couldn’t just pick one. I wanted both. God, I ALWAYS WANTED BOTH.

“Then why can’t you choose?” Shannon’s voice never wavered in calmness and he stared into me. The way he wasn’t panicking, the smooth way he was talking, it all started to make me angry. Of course he’d be super calm. It didn’t matter if I was drunk. I knew what I felt and I knew they wouldn’t understand no matter how much I tried to drill it through to them.

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU BOTH OKAY!?” I screamed so loud, Shannon arched backwards in a slight feeling of shock. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED? MOVE!”

“Princess.” Jared growled. “Now is not the time for a tan-trum.” I could hear the way he was articulating his words using the Joker’s voice as if that was supposed to entice me to change my mind. I was tired of being pulled between the two like a game of sexual tug of war. It would never help me make a real decision and I was tired of wasting my time and everyone else’s.

“Get out of my face!”

Shannon gripped his brother’s shoulder to halt him as Jared began to go after her. There she was, stomping out of the bar with neither man accompanying her.

“We should go after her.” Shannon murmured and Jared sighed loudly before he followed his brother out of the club.

Di was on the sidewalk smoking a spliff when I walked up to her with my arms crossed. “No boys tonight?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Di, I can’t pick. I’m crazy. I love them both. I love Jared’s soft touch and his long tongue. I love Shannon’s soft voice and his callous hands. I love them both. I’m insanely in love with two men and the thought of picking is just…. I can’t tell them that Di. I can’t make them love me.” I shook my head. “What if they think I’m crazy?”

“We’ll find out.” She chuckled a bit before she blew her smoke in the air before arching her head back. “Boys,” I turned around and nearly tumbled backwards when both men were standing in front of me. “We were just hopping in an Uber and making our way to iHop, if you wanna come along.” She lifted an eyebrow but Jared’s eyes didn’t leave me.

“Yeah.” Shannon finally spoke up. “iHop is fine.” He smiled as best he could even though the confession. He sighed as they went to climb in the car behind her but before Jared. He shifted so that he could sit on one side of me and Jared could the other. He rolled his window down slightly so they could get some air. Then he shut his eyes and contemplated the thought that he would have to share his girlfriend with his brother. He knew it was what she really wanted and that was the only reason she was drinking so much.  He slowly placed his hand on my knee and ran his palms over the curve of it. I moaned softly.

Jared looked over, and frowned when he saw his girl’s head lulling.

“Princess. You okay?” He asked and I nodded as best I could but he felt bad. I could hardly keep my head up. He slowly guided me by the shoulder to lay on Shannon’s shoulder. Though he worked out more, Shannon had broader shoulders, perfect for his girl to rest her head. He let his hands play in my hair absently as he considered for a moment what I had been saying before they interrupted me. Is she crazy for wanting us both? After all, she’d been having us both for years and had never complained or strayed away. Other men don’t understand her connection with us. That to Jared was fair because he didn’t either. He was sure Shannon didn’t. But to him, their girl had proven in the short time of them fooling around that she aimed to please them both.

“You think it was selfish?” Shannon mused out loud. “To make her pick?” He spared a glance to his brother as he continued to rub her thigh absently.

“I guess so.” Jared averted his gaze and stared out the window.

“What’s really the worse that could happen for her to have you both?” Di asked in a soft voice in attempt to be careful not to startle the two men who were obviously deep in thought. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time anyway? It’s obvious she’s always had a thing for you both, even if you didn’t pay attention. Even if she didn’t know. I knew.”

“It’s weird.” Jared said softly, not sparing anyone in the small car a gaze into his eyes, for they would reveal that he was actually considering it. Sharing her.

“I wanna take her home.” Shannon said as he wrapped his arm around her. “She’s not looking too good.”

“Okay.” Di sighed as she turned and spoke to the driver.

“Your place, mine or hers?” Shannon looked over at his brother who quickly turned away from the window. He frowned and Shannon shrugged a shoulder. “Trying to pull her apart between us is torturing her. I mean, look at her. Have you ever seen her this drunk?”

Jared stared down at the poor girl, eyes asleep and fists clenched. He’d seen it before, the few times she’d gotten too drunk. She was trying to stop her world from spinning but going to sleep so she wouldn’t appear drunk and needy.

“She needs us, man.” Shannon said softly. “Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement. An open relationship where we can see other girls or something.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Me neither.” Shannon said softly.

//

I moaned tiredly as I sat up in my bed. “Shit.” I put my hand to my throbbing bed and gasped when Shannon appeared before me putting a cold towel to my forehead. “Shannon.”

“Got a headache much?” He chuckled as he helped lay me back down.

“Fuck. What the hell happened?”

“You got too drunk at the club last night. Some dude totally tried to touch you. Jared and I brought you home.”

“Damn.” I laughed. “I don’t even drink like that anymore.”

“Since what? Last month?” He joked and I pushed his shoulder playfully.

“Yeah. Last time I told that guy I was seeing to fuck off. I speak too much of the truth when I get enough liquor in me. I don’t even remember getting in the club. Did you two show?”

“Yeah we did.” Jared appeared in the doorway and I smiled crookedly as he held up the trash can. “Brought you a fresh bag.” He came and sat it next to his brother before sitting on the edge of the bed.

The room grew eerily silent.

“What?” I looked from one brother to another. “What?” I repeated anxiously.

“You said some things at the club last night—“ Jared ran his hand over the back of his neck. I bit my lip before I looked back at the clock. It was 6 in the afternoon. It was already dark outside again. “You said even more things when we got you back here.”

“Things like what?” I demanded.

“You asked us not to leave you.” Shannon said, his eyes not leaving mine. “You yelled at me for sleeping with Di and not even inviting you.” He chuckled as he sat back in the chair he had sat by the bed. “You uh… You told us you couldn’t choose.” He stopped there and I covered my face, shame flooding my body.

“Is it true?” Jared asked, his voice hoarse with worry. “Can you really not decide?”

A shudder fell over me as I felt a fresh flood of tears coming. “I’m sorry okay?” I looked up at them both insistently. “I tried. I’ve given it more thought than I’ve ever given anything and you guys remember how hard it was for me to quit that one job.”

“Or pick a new Fuel blend.” Jared offered.

“Or decide whether or not that drum solo was gonna go on the special edition of Hurricane or not.” Shannon chuckled.

“So, shouldn’t you two be running for the hills? It’s sick having a girlfriend who also has the hots for your brother.”

“If you’re sick, we’re twice as sick.” Shannon shrugged.

“Yeah? Why?” I demanded.

“Well because we both want you to be our girlfriend.” Jared spoke softly. “I mean, we’ve been talking about it while you were sleeping your hangover away. You love us both. And no man in his right mind would take a woman away from a man who truly loved her.”

I shook my head slowly before I looked from the long brown haired man with blue eyes before glancing at the short brown haired man with hazel eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“I could tell you.” Shannon leaned over. “But I’d rather show you.”

Last Chapter Coming Soon | In the meantime, catch up on Bloom or start Secrets, cowritten by @jletolove4eva. 

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