#lived halfway across the country and kinda fucked him over and up and never really got to connect to his kid much until nick was damn near

[veone]

weed vs coke

#hi stefan! he doesn't do coke #he just drinks and takes his anti-depressants together #i am very much feeling his spikey hair like yeah that fits him being a touch unhinged yuka fell in love with that version of him #this is nick dad they alike #he's my fav #he kinda looks like robert if you stare at him long enough....from fallout 4 my favorite video game husband #his voice is deep as hell and he's polish #hates his father for a good reason is the favorite child oldest of five #has two kids because he counts kina as his daughter #the fun uncle #to his neices and nephews he'll give you a beer if you ask #on a serious note he's a very decent dad he wished he could've been a better dad but he's got a lot of stuff going on mentally so he was a #little checked out alot of the time but it got better. #he and kina relationship is my favorite because he really took in two kids at his lowest point in his life from his ex girlfriend who #lived halfway across the country and kinda fucked him over and up and never really got to connect to his kid much until nick was damn near #and he got a random baby girl to look after and he thrived with her honestly kina be like i got two dads #hes a sweet person just been through the wringer a lot #ts4 #simblr #sims 4 #my sims #stefan piotrowski

[magniloquent-raven]

Could a I get trans!Tommy x Billy fic where Billy finds out Tommy is trans and he's freaking out but Billy just reassures him and comforts him until one thing leads to another and they end up having sex?

this ended up 1) a college au for some reason, 2) t4t because i started writing billy as trans without even thinkin about it at first lmao and 3) MUCH longer than i thought it would be, holy shit

i hope all that's okay & i really hope u enjoy ur fic 💕💕💕

~tag list ppl just in case yall are interested even tho its a ship ive never written before? @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle @prettyboy-like-you ~

[read on ao3]

**

“Carol broke up with me again,” Tommy says, words slurred by the alcohol in his system and muffled by his forearm squished against his cheek. He blinks up at Billy from where he’s half-laying on the peeling cover of his algebra text book. They didn’t bother clearing the homework from his desk before dumping three six-packs and a plastic bag stuffed with snack food on top of the mess. 

He’s usually a fun drunk, Billy wouldn’t have brought beer if he’d known it was gonna go like this. 

But of course it’s because of Carol. It’s always because of Carol. Except that one time it was because of a phonecall with his mother that he refused to talk about, even after the tequila loosened his lips enough to have him waxing poetic about his ex-bff with a wistful look in his eye. 

“Again?” Billy leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. He’s got one booted foot propped on the edge of Tommy’s roommate’s bed. “This is the third time in four months, man. Is your dick too small to keep her satisfied, or what.”

He’s supposed to push back. That’s how this works. He’s supposed to bristle and sit up and defend himself, because he has some fucking pride. And before he knows it he’ll be too busy exchanging barbs with Billy to think about how miserable he is about the breakup. 

He’s not supposed to turn his head, hiding his face in his folded arms, and mumble, “Something like that…” all morose and self-pitying. 

Because no one comes to Billy for this shit. To be vulnerable. To talk about feelings and have an honest heart-to-heart and a shoulder to cry on and all that crap people want when they’re going through a real break-up. He can put on a good face when girls come sniffing around for a rebound lay. The girls who got screwed over by their white-bread boyfriends and want to pretend they’re over it by getting fingerbanged in a public bathroom by some bad boy who won’t call them after. But fake sympathy and an uncanny ability to deflect questions about why he doesn’t want his touch reciprocated did not prepare him for…whatever is happening right now.

“Y’know there’s other ways to fuck a girl, right,” Billy says from behind his beer. There’s not much left and it’s still not making this conversation any easier.

Tommy groans, burrowing deeper into his sleeves. “I know.”

“Hm.”

“S’complicated.”

“Not if you know what you’re looking—wait. The break-up. Right. Look, you want my advice? Move on. Live a little. You came halfway across the country to, what, stay leashed to the same pussy you’ve been getting since you were twelve? Who the fuck does that.”

“Dunno.”

Billy blows out a slow breath, then downs the rest of his beer. He drops the empty can on Tommy’s desk and watches it rock, tip, and fall over. It rolls, wobbling through drying condensation rings and chip crumbs ‘til it hits Tommy’s elbow, coming to a stop next to his left ear. He doesn’t move.

The assholes next door are having an obnoxiously loud argument, only slightly muffled through the thin walls. The radio on Tommy’s bedside table warbles through a jingle that keeps cutting in and out. Neither of them speak for a long, awkward moment.   

“...She really did a number on you, huh.”

Tommy sighs. “Nah.” He pauses, then peeks out from the crook of his arm. “Kinda.” He stares at the can nestled up against his arm, looking uncharacteristically contemplative. “Dunno, man, I just want people to stop leaving me.”

Billy’s lungs seize painfully, his whole chest tightening around the jagged edges of a sympathetic twinge, like gripping a shard of glass in his fist, cutting himself open on it. There’s anger dripping from that open wound, familiar and yet foreign in its compassion for Tommy of all people. 

They’ve never been especially close. Billy’s not especially close with anybody, and he always figured hanging around Tommy would make it easy to keep it that way. The guy just gives off a vibe. The small town jock type, only ever wants to talk about tits and booze and whatever stupid, embarrassing gossip he can turn into a joke.

For six months Billy’s been content to do that, to hang out with Tommy drinking beer and pretending to care about the low-cut tanktops their English lit professor favours. It feels good, in a way. Safe. But it was never supposed to be about Tommy himself. He wasn’t supposed to care about him. Caring about people is dangerous. Makes it harder to cut ties if he needs to. Or worse, it means the inevitable rejection if he ever gets outed will actually hurt.

Tommy’s still looking at him, sullen and hazy-eyed. His freckles are just barely visible in the shitty lamplight, his hair is sticking up at odd angles, flattened on one side from laying on his desk. He’s kind of pretty when he’s not being a shithead.

Wait. No. No, no. Absolutely the fuck not. Not going there. 

Billy tries very hard to look like he has no opinions about Tommy’s face. Or his stupid puppy-dog eyes.

He bites his tongue when panic tries to sharpen it. The anxiety bubbling in his gut turns to bile burning his throat, and it’s tempting to lash out, to spit venom like the sour taste in his mouth is anyone’s fault but his, like pushing Tommy away would fix anything. 

He hasn’t seen Max since he moved into his tiny dorm room on campus. Hasn’t spoken to her since his acceptance letter came in months before that. He thought it would make things easier, better for both of them, but now he just gets angry at himself when seeing flashes of red hair makes his heart clench. 

It’s only ever made his life worse, he doesn’t know why he keeps trying it. 

The first time he let a boy fuck him he felt so shitty about it afterwards that he told everyone who would listen that the guy kissed like a dead fish and couldn’t even get his dick hard. It made Billy feel something, when people laughed and said that probably meant he was a fag. Something sickly and awful, but somehow vindicating. 

He caught three meatheads beating the shit out of the boy who took his virginity three weeks after he lied about it never happening. The look on his bloodied face still haunts Billy’s nightmares. 

Billy’s never made anyone’s life better by being in it. He doesn’t know what to say to someone who doesn’t want to be left.

“Yeah, I hear you, amigo,” he says grimly, and regrets it immediately. It’s too personal. Too self-pitying. It’s echoes of when is mom coming home, and a slap ringing in his ears, a phantom ache in his jaw, the taste of salt and iron.   

He keeps his gaze locked on a tiny dent near the top of the unopened beer he reaches for, hoping to occupy his hands, only to be stopped in his tracks when clumsy fingers pat his knuckles. He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a comforting gesture or if Tommy’s just too drunk to keep his hand steady and was trying to grab ahold of him. 

The look on his face is oddly intense, sombre, like stroking the back of Billy’s hand is the most important thing he’s ever done and it’s taking all his concentration to do it. There’s a little pinch between his eyebrows, and a slant to his mouth.

Billy should snatch his hand away, but he lets it happen. Despite his embarrassment it’s kind of nice. 

“I like having you around.”

Well. That might be a bridge too far. Maybe. The tips of his ears feel hot. “Okay, I think you’ve probably had enough to drink tonight, Hagan.”

Tommy scoffs, his nose wrinkling a little.

“Seriously, if you propose to my hand I’m never buying you beer again.” 

“Liar.” 

“Don’t test me.” Billy can’t quite keep the laugh out of his voice.

“Pff.” He pauses, his fingertips coming to rest along the length of Billy’s thumb, pinky finger toying with the ragged edge of his nail. “You like having me around, right?” There’s a desperate edge to the question, a tremble that makes Billy nervous. 

“I—” He chews the inside of his cheek, studying the sad twist pulling at the corner of Tommy’s mouth. “Yeah.” Maybe he’s drunk enough he won’t remember this tomorrow. Maybe that’s why Billy nudges his hand, linking two of their fingers together, a tiny smile tugging at his lips when Tommy gapes at him. “Yeah I do.”

**

Billy’s head pounds when he stirs, rustling unfamiliar sheets, and the light filtering in through crooked blinds makes his eyes ache. At least the cottonmouth isn’t too bad, and his stomach seems to be behaving itself. He’s definitely had worse, much worse. 

There’s a groan across the room. He buries his face into the borrowed pillow tucked under his arm to hide a snicker. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy grumbles. There’s a whoosh of displaced air and a muffled thump. A pillow hitting the carpet. “Shit.”

“Nice aim.”

“Urgh.”

He doesn’t have class today, there’s no rush to be anywhere, but he’s never been good at laying around doing nothing. His first few weeks of adjusting to life free from Neil he tried sleeping in, rebelling against rules he was no longer bound by, but he mostly ended up staring at water-stained ceilings bored out of his mind. He doesn’t bother anymore. The entire life he’s building for himself is a fuck you to Neil, he doesn’t need every little thing to be about him.

He stretches, his shoulder popping loudly in the early-morning quiet, and glances over at the lump of blankets in Tommy’s bed. 

“How’s your head?” Billy asks, not bothering to keep the smirk out of his voice.

Tommy grunts. The outline of his shoulder shifts slightly. 

“That bad, huh.”

Another noncommittal noise. 

Billy rolls his eyes, pushing himself upright and out of bed. His jeans are around here somewhere in the mess, but he doesn’t remember taking them off, and definitely doesn’t remember tossing them…over the half-eaten remains of last night’s pizza. Gross. 

There’s a grease stain on the back of one thigh, but they pass the sniff test.

He’s wiggling them over his hips when Tommy finally sits up. “M’ gonna be sick,” he croaks, and falls out of bed in a tangle of sheets and oversized t-shirt bunched around his midriff. Billy gets a glimpse of soft freckled stomach and a yellowing tanktop before Tommy gives his shirt a hurried tug, smoothing it down with jittery hands. 

He doesn’t look at Billy as he staggers towards the door, steps over discarded gym shorts, catches his toe on the busted folding chair his roommate keeps promising to fix, and finally slips into the hallway, hissing curses under his breath. 

And Billy doesn’t think anything of it. Tommy’s never a ray of sunshine in the morning, and he’s even worse when nursing a hangover. He was focused on getting to the bathroom down the hall before he tossed his cookies all over the floor, he didn’t exactly have time to stop and make small talk. It’s not weird.

But it gets weird. 

Billy waits way too long for him to come back. He tosses back the last of his flat, warm beer. Combs out his curls with his fingers, carefully rearranging them in the mirror propped next to Tommy’s sparse bookshelf. Picks through the crumpled worksheets strewn across the desk. And finally decides to check if Tommy choked on his own vomit. 

Only he’s nowhere to be found.

And, fine, Billy’s not needy or whatever, he can get breakfast on his own. It’s not like they had plans Tommy’s flaking out on, Billy just kinda thought…

It doesn’t matter what he thought. It’s fine.

He goes back to his own dorm. Changes his jeans. Isn’t bothered.

…He’s a little bothered when he sees Tommy later that day and Tommy bugs the fuck out, all but fleeing in the opposite direction. 

Because. Yeah, that’s weird. 

Doubt starts to dig its spindly fingers in, thin and brittle but pointed. 

They both said some shit last night. Which was Tommy’s fucking fault, getting drunk like that when he was in a mood. And he’s the one who kept trying to make it all touchy-feely. 

Christ, he should’ve fucking known Tommy was going to remember, it was stupid to engage with him in the first place. Shit’s awkward now because he’s a fucking sucker and now Tommy knows it. 

Or maybe it’s more than awkward, and Tommy’s straight-up pissed at him. Billy’s stomach curdles at the thought. 

He can’t handle this. Tying himself up in knots because he got the brush-off. Worrying and wondering and chewing his thumbnail ‘til he tastes blood. It’s pathetic. 

Tommy doesn’t have class today either, so Billy checks his dorm first. 

And then he checks the cafeteria. The lot behind the cafeteria where Tommy smokes sometimes. Carol’s dorm—thankfully empty, he doesn’t feel like answering a million questions and then having his answers dissected by her and her friends after he leaves. 

He’s running out of places to look when he spots Tommy next to a payphone in front of the main office. The walkway is empty, it’s just Tommy hunched around the phone, clutching it in both hands and deeply engrossed in his conversation. Enough that he doesn’t seem to notice Billy approaching.

His voice is low, but Billy catches snippets. Carol’s name. “Mamá,” sighed repeatedly, exasperated. He gets more agitated every time he stutters to a halt, apparently cut off. 

“I just thought you should know, okay!” Tommy runs a hand through his hair and rolls his eyes skyward. “No—no, mamá, iba a traerla—yes, I was…”

Billy leans against cold brick, his denim jacket scraping the wall as he crosses his arms, waiting. 

“Ese no es mi problema,” he snaps, glaring at nothing and getting steadily louder. “No. I’m not her precious little neita anymore, she can’t stay in denial forever!”

Oh?

Billy’s ears are ringing. Tommy’s voice is an indistinct buzz.

It could be nothing. A slip of the tongue. Billy’s Spanish getting rusty. It could be Billy reading into things—hoping, like that’s ever gotten him anything but heartbroken—just, seeing things that aren’t there because he wants to be a little less alone. 

But still. He’s never seen Tommy wearing less than two shirts, and he's always been just as averse to the dorm's shared bathroom as Billy is. Sometimes tiny, incidental things will throw him off, but Billy never thought much of it until now. Until he was smacked in the face with the possibility that Tommy could be like him. 

It feels a little unreal, a little like vapor he’s trying to catch with his bare hands, not quite solid but leaving enough droplets of water on his hands that he’s knows there’s something.

Tommy seems to realize he’s shouting, and glances around, worrying his bottom lip. It slips from between his teeth when he locks eyes with Billy and his jaw goes slack. 

Because he’s been trying to avoid Billy all day or because he thinks he might’ve just outed himself?

Either way his posture immediately changes, going rigid, spine straightening, holding himself with enough bravado that it almost hides the way his gaze darts around, nervously scanning the empty sidewalk. Looking for an exit, probably. 

He mumbles a rushed goodbye into the receiver, not waiting for a response before he slams the phone back onto its hook and folds his arms, fists balled in the crooks of his elbows.

“I swear to god, I’ll piss on your pillow if you take off on me again.” Billy pushes away from the building, pointing a threatening finger. 

“I wasn’t—fuckin’—what the hell. Gross.”

“So don’t leave.” The words twinge as they leave his mouth, falling heavier between them than Billy really meant them to. Tommy flinches. Just a little. The tiniest twitch at the corner of his eye. A minute change to the slope of his shoulders. Billy exhales slow through his nose. “What’s the deal, Hagan.”

“Shit,” Tommy mutters, sweeping a hand through his hair and shifting away from Billy with a grimace. “Shit. Look, man, I don’t know what you think you heard, but it’s—I’m not. Y’know what, just forget about it, okay.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. He can feel his heartbeat racing, hammering at the inside of his ribcage. “Forget what exactly,” he says, keeping his voice even. 

He has to know. For sure. He can’t just out himself for a maybe. 

“Don’t play dumb, you’re shitty at it,” Tommy snaps, but there’s a thready quality to it. “I’m not gonna fucking say it. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?”

“I saw the look on your face, man, I’m not stupid. I know what it looks like when someone realizes they’ve been hanging out with a fuckin’ freak.” He jabs a finger at Billy, gesturing in a vague circle around his face. “That. Right before the regret sets in. And you bail. Or worse.” He clenches his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching. It’s not quite enough to hide the current of anxiety thrumming through his jerky movements. 

There are things he should say right now. Things he should do. But all he’s getting it static. Fuzz. He’s wildly spinning a dial and getting nothing but snippets of words that he loses in the white noise. 

He’s fucking this up. 

He tongues his cheek. Deliberates. 

“We should take this somewhere else,” he says carefully, pointedly flicking his gaze towards the office building behind them. They might be alone out here, but there’s no guarantee they’ll stay that way. There are people in there. For all he knows there could be someone peeking through the blinds at them right now.

But Tommy just stares at him, incredulous. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Would you just—” Billy blows out an irritated breath. The back of his neck is prickling, like he’s being watched. He can’t fucking concentrate. “It’s not what you think.” The scoff he gets in response is not encouraging. “I’m not bailing on you, alright, would you just come with me and let me say my piece?”

If their positions were reversed he knows what he’d do. He wouldn’t risk being alone with someone who just found him out, it’s a stupid fucking thing to do. Anyone who asked him to take that risk would get laughed at and left in the dust. And yet here he is asking Tommy to trust him, like he has any right to do that. 

Promising to stick around doesn’t feel like enough but it’s all he can give right now. He wants it to work so badly it hurts, aches like he’s ripped out a part of himself as an offering. 

Tommy narrows his eyes, looks him up and down, and mutters. “Fine.”

All the air punches out of Billy’s lungs. Maybe he can salvage this.

They walk in stiff silence, a careful six inches apart. Billy’s boots scrape against the pavement. He picks at a scab along the edge of his fingernail, watching Tommy out of the corner of his eye, catching the erratic flash of his hands flitting from place to place, pushing through his hair, adjusting the hem of his shirt. 

His dorm is closer, he steers him in that direction, ignoring Tommy’s suspicious side-eye.

It’ll be fine, he can clear shit up when they get there. It’ll be fine.

Still, guilt squeezes at his insides. 

His dorm room door clicks shut behind them. It’s deafening. 

He has no plan. He probably should have come up with a plan. His palms are sweating and his heart feels like it’s trying to crawl out of his mouth and his throat is so dry he’s not sure he could say anything even if he knew what to say, but…fuck, staring at the ripped corner of his Metallica poster isn’t even remotely productive, he needs to think—

Tommy grips his arm, tight enough to hurt, and tugs him around. His lips are pursed, downturned, and his eyes are bright, intense, flicking across Billy’s face. Billy’s half sure he’s about to get punched—Tommy looks to be working himself up to something—but instead he blinks and Tommy’s gone, Tommy’s…on his knees, clumsy fingers plucking at Billy’s belt buckle. 

“Oh—” Billy sucks in a breath, grabbing Tommy’s wrists. 

Dark eyes glare up at him. “Oh come on, this is what you wanted right? You’re not leaving because you want something. And it’s not gay if I’ve got a pussy, right—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for a second?” Billy says all in an exasperated rush, staring at the ceiling, a little lightheaded. He’s not entirely shocked by the heat that seared through him when he realized what Tommy was trying to do, but he wasn’t prepared for how much he wants him to. And now really isn’t the time to be thinking about using Tommy’s mouth to get off. “Look, I…”

His throat closes up. He still can’t say it.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the floor, sitting on the heels of his boots, his knees brushing Tommy’s. It’s easier to look at him from this angle. Or maybe it’s just because the strange intensity in his gaze has been replaced by confusion. There’s a vulnerable helplessness there that Billy didn’t notice before. Guilt grips him tighter. 

“I told you, it’s not what you think,” he says quietly. 

Before he can lose his nerve—an ignoring all the doubts plaguing him, what if he thinks less of me, what if he’s angry I kept it a secret, what if—Billy hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugs, pulling it over his head. 

Tommy blinks at him. Opens his mouth. Shuts it again.

He doesn’t stare at Billy’s scars. Billy expected him to stare. Showing him the scars was the whole point. He looks at them, sure, but he doesn’t look for very long. His eyes wander, scanning the entire expanse of tanned skin on display. Lingering on the freckles on Billy’s shoulder. The trail of soft blond hair below his belly button. 

If he was less caught up in feeling feelings that made his insides squirm and his fingers itch he might’ve laughed at how dazed Tommy’s looks. But he’s sure his expression isn’t any better. A hot flush prickles up Billy’s chest as he sits there, just letting Tommy ogle. 

“Uh.” Tommy clears his throat. His cheeks are pink. He hasn’t looked up yet. “So…”

“Yeah.”

“You…”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

A beat. “I mean you can still blow me if you want, I just figured you’d want to know what you were getting into first.”

That does it. Tommy finally makes eye-contact, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead, a startled, slightly hysterical cackle bubbling out of him. The flush on his cheeks is still there but he looks less like he’s been hit over the head. “Asshole,” he says, unable to entirely keep the smile off his face. 

Billy shrugs, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, but I have it on good authority that you like having me around.”

The light in Tommy’s eyes dims a bit, and for a horrible second Billy thinks he’s fucked up again. Tommy huffs a quiet laugh, breaking eye-contact. “Sorry about that, by the way.” 

“What?”

“Uh. Last night. Being all…” He grimaces, and wiggles his fingers in the air. 

“...Is that why you took off this morning?”

“I…maybe.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy groans, and punches his shoulder. “You aren’t the only one who hates being left behind y’know.” 

“Oh.” 

You had me worried.

He bites his tongue. It doesn’t need to be said. Tommy’s expression is soft, despite the fact that he’s rubbing his bicep where Billy hit him. 

“You didn’t scare me off,” Billy mutters instead, and winces at his own plaintive tone. But he can’t seem to stop now that he’s started. “You still haven’t. Still like having you around. Y’know, if—if you’re gonna stay.” 

Tommy lets out a quiet breath. A tiny noise in the back of his throat. And then he sways forward, closing the gap between them, and kisses Billy square on the mouth.

He’s not expecting it, is the thing. People are usually pretty unsubtle when they want him, and he can read the signs. He knows when someone’s going to make a move and he can prepare, put himself in whatever headspace he needs to be in to get through it. 

And it’s not like he wasn’t aware that Tommy had been checking him out, but this is…it’s something else. 

Because he was caught unawares he doesn’t have a goddamn plan, so he just reacts, messy and a little desperate in a way he hasn’t been since his first few times getting physical with someone. It would be embarrassing, except for the way Tommy’s breath hitches, and he leans into it. He can’t seem to get close enough where he is, because he shuffles forward on his knees ‘til they’re on either side of Billy’s thighs. 

He hovers there, straddling Billy’s lap, still pressing sloppy kisses to his lips, but doesn’t sit until Billy grabs him around his waist and tugs. 

Tommy lets out a sharp puff of a gasp as he’s pulled closer, it’s warm where it tickles Billy’s moustache, and he finally breaks their kiss to snicker. 

“Fuck off, you surprised me,” Tommy says, the annoyed act falling flat when the words come out breathy and trembling. 

“Mhm,” Billy hums, grinning at Tommy’s complete inability to keep a straight face while he slips his fingers under the seam of Tommy’s waistband, toying with the elastic of his briefs while his palms rest comfortably on his lower back. 

There’s a heat simmering in his gut, coiled low and tight, but the weight in his lap and hesitant fingertips pressed to his stomach feel just as pleasant. It’s…weird. New. Fragile. He’s not quite sure what this is but he wants to hold on to it. 

“So…we’re good, right?” He bites inside of his cheek to ground himself, and stop any more stupid questions from falling out of his face.

“Yeah, I mean—yeah? Pretty sure I’m, uh. Very good right now.” His eyes flicker down. “I was better a second ago though.”

Billy pushes the tip of his tongue between his teeth, feeling very smug when Tommy zeroes in on it. “You sure you’re not mad about earlier?” he lets his voice drop an octave, leaning in just enough to feel Tommy’s breathing quicken. “‘Cause I’ll work real hard to make it up to you if you are.”

“That cheesy porno shit usually work for you?” His tone is light, teasing, threaded with laughter, but his gaze is still heavy on Billy’s mouth, pupils blown and hazy with lust.

“Oh please, like it isn’t getting you going?” Billy dips his hands lower, fingertips pressed lightly into the soft flesh of Tommy’s asscheeks. He isn’t digging in, isn’t pushing, but Tommy shifts closer anyways, ‘til their chests are nearly flush, and they touch, briefly, with each shallow breath. “I bet your briefs are soaked right now.” 

Like his are any better, really. It’s taking all his self-control not to squirm and rub his hard little cock all through the slick mess under him. 

Tommy’s eyes fall shut, and he shudders. Billy feels him quiver. He slides his hands up Billy’s chest, palms skimming his ribs, briefly pausing to trace his scars, and coming to rest just under his collarbone. 

A pause.

And Tommy shoves him. Hard. 

His back hits the carpet, knocking the air out of him in a rush, a wheezing, incredulous laugh. Sparks dance up his spine. The heat in his belly flares. Tommy’s looking down at him like he wants to devour him, and Billy’s more than willing to let it happen.

This time when Tommy goes for the belt buckle, he doesn’t stop him. 

It jingles against the button on his jeans, flopping to the side as Tommy fumbles with his fly, hooks his fingers into worn belt loops, and tugs. His jeans are as much of a pain to take off as they always are, they both grimace and groan as he wiggles out of them, stopping to pull off his boots when they get in the way.

“How the hell do you sleep around so much in these?” Tommy mutters, finally prying Billy’s legs free and chucking his rumpled jeans across the room with an annoyed huff.

Billy snorts. “They don’t usually come off.”

“...Oh.” He feels, suddenly, like maybe he’s said too much. The way Tommy’s eyeing him makes him feel every inch of his bare skin on display. He’d sit up, make himself a little less vulnerable, but Tommy’s shifted positions, straddling his stomach. “Do you just do over the clothes stuff, then, or…”

“Don’t really get touched at all, actually. Easier to avoid getting hate-crimed that way.” He turns his face away, cheek brushing the carpet. 

Tommy nods, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, yeah. It’s…Carol’s the only girl I’ve ever been with, and sometimes she didn’t even wanna. Y’know.”

“Yeah, guys aren’t much better, trust me.”

“I know,” he says ruefully, smiling small. “I think maybe Carol only kept me around as long as she did because she couldn’t find any other guy willing to go down on her that much.” 

“Damn, and she still dumped you? So ungrateful.” 

“Ha, yeah, well. She found someone with a real dick apparently. Said she missed getting fucked properly, or whatever.” 

Billy scoffs, “Ten bucks says she comes crawling back in two weeks when she gets tired of being some prick’s fucktoy.” 

He tenses, regretting the thought the second he has it. Tommy’s gotten back with her every time she’s asked. She snaps her fingers and he’s there, hers again like nothing happened. As much as Billy hates watching it happen every time, he gets it. His track record when it comes to letting the people he loves hurt him isn’t any better. But this time…

Does he have any right to hope it’ll be different now? Probably not. 

Tommy raises his eyebrows, a guarded sort of curiosity behind his mostly blank expression. 

“Don’t take her back,” Billy says, softly, stupid, vulnerable hope cracking him open. He focuses on the feeling of Tommy’s slacks under his palms, warm thighs bracketing his torso. The rough scratch of carpet against his bare back. The smell of his musty dorm room. Anything but the way his stomach twists into knots while he waits to get shot down. “She’ll just break your heart again, man,” he adds, like he can cover his ass and make it look like this isn’t about what he wants at all. 

“And you won’t?” He’s quiet. Serious. There’s a sad twist to his mouth. 

“I—” The silence in the air between them is stifling, heavy in Billy’s lungs as his chest rises and falls. In some fucked up way that feels like an admission. An acknowledgement of…something. The idea that Billy might have the power to break his heart is fucking terrifying, and the implications make his head spin. He bites his lip. “Not by leaving.”

Tommy huffs out a dry laugh, bowing his head and giving it a tiny shake. “Gee, thanks.” He’s hiding a smile. A small one, but it’s warm, despite his hesitance. 

Billy grabs the front of Tommy’s shirt, tugging him down while he cranes his neck, meeting him halfway to press a brief kiss to his mouth.

It’s less brief than he planned. Tommy’s fingers end up wound in his hair, his firm grip making Billy’s scalp tingle and heat simmer under his skin. He groans, low in his throat, and licks into Tommy’s mouth in retaliation. 

Time starts to blur a little. He’s not thinking about why he kissed Tommy in the first place. He’s not thinking of stopping, god fucking forbid. All that matters is the sharp, biting pressure of fingernails, the gentle glide of warm lips against his, and the sounds he can pull from Tommy with a flick of his tongue. Everything else is sort of fuzzy. 

He tries nipping Tommy’s bottom lip. Lightly. Testing the waters. He inhales sharply, something like a gasp he caught halfway, and more importantly, his hips jerk forward. Just a little. But him pressing down against Billy’s stomach like that sets a fire inside. An immediate needy wanting that rushes through him like an adrenaline spike. 

Billy pulls back an inch, breathing hard, “Do it again,” he demands, clutching Tommy’s waist with guiding hands, “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Jesus—fuck,” Tommy’s nose brushes his cheek as he starts to move, curling into Billy’s space and panting bitten-off curses in puffs of humid air against his jaw. 

The seam of Tommy’s pants chafes a little, rubbing against the taut line of his stomach, catching on the light dusting of hair, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he can feel Tommy’s legs start to tremble, and he gets to watch the way his face goes slack with pleasure, his eyebrows furrowed as he works his hips back and forth.

It’s not hard to imagine sliding inside him like this. Tommy sitting on his cock, all wet heat and freckled thighs. Riding him ‘til his muscles give out and Billy has to take over, snap his hips over and over, listening to the slap of skin and Tommy’s pleading for more. 

Fuck.

His grip on Tommy’s waist tightens, right as he gives one last jerky thrust, and his whole body tenses. He whimpers right in Billy’s ear before his head drops, hitting his shoulder.

Billy feels like a live wire. He aches. He wants. 

He waits, with bottom lip caught between his teeth, squirming and hoping it’s not too obvious. 

“Sooo,” Tommy drawls, still catching his breath, his nose smushed to Billy’s collarbone. “D’you want me to blow you, or was that—”

“Fuck, yes.”

Tommy snickers. “Alright. Prepare to have your world rocked.”

“Oh, and my pick-up line was cheesy porno shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Dick.”

His shoulders shake with barely suppressed laughter, and Billy can feel his smile widen. He’d almost be content to bask in the moment like a cat in a sunbeam, except—

Tommy shifts, sliding a thigh between his legs and pressing, and yeah, that’s much better, nevermind. He lets out a slow, shaky breath, staring hazily at the water-stained ceiling. 

“You liked seeing me get off, huh.” Tommy kisses his chest, lips still curved into a smile. Billy swallows hard, and folds his lips between his teeth. “You soaked right through your underwear. I can feel it.” 

He’s making his way down way too slowly. On purpose, the little shit. But Billy refuses to crack. He can wait. It’s fine. He only feels a little bit like he’s going to explode.

Tommy replaces his thigh with his hand as he crawls backward, trailing a light finger over the growing wet spot and not doing nearly enough to ease the throbbing ache between Billy’s legs, his lips trail down, inch by agonizing inch as he goes. He’s got nice lips. Billy wouldn’t mind kissing him for hours. Being kissed. 

Being kissed somewhere very specific right fucking now.

Billy’s legs spread a little further apart, without really meaning to, he arches his back, wriggles, trying to subtly get Tommy where he needs to be a little faster. 

Except he fucking pauses. Kisses Billy’s hipbone. Flashes an absolutely shit-eating grin. 

“Would you hurry the fuck up,” Billy groans.

Which cracks Tommy up. A laugh he’d obviously been holding back bursts out of him, muffled a little as he leans into Billy’s stomach, his shoulders shaking. 

“I hate you so much.”

Tommy looks up at him, eyes shining. “Nah. You don’t.”

“Fine, but I’d like you a lot more if you stopped being a tease.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, and finally, finally, settles between Billy’s legs, flashing a grin before he pushes Billy’s briefs aside and drags his tongue through the wetness underneath. 

“Jesusfuckingchrist—” Billy inhales sharply, his whole body arching into the sweet pressure of Tommy’s mouth, somehow ending up with one leg hooked around him, trying to pull him closer. “Oh fuck.”

A whine catches in his throat when Tommy huffs a laugh, warm air somehow feeling cool against his flushed skin. He’s beyond caring about looking desperate, he just needs more. More of this. He rocks against the steady stroke of Tommy’s tongue, his breath hitching every time he brushes his cock and a concentrated bolt of pleasure lances through him.

Then Tommy wraps his lips around it, and sucks, and Billy’s vision whites out. It feels so good it fucking hurts. He cries out, wordlessly, grasping for something to hold on to.

“Holy shit, dude,” Tommy breathes, pulling back, pulling away, what the fuck, no—

“Hng,” Billy grunts, his hands waving uselessly, trying to reach Tommy to put him back where he was. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, a little breathless, a lot delighted. “Just…” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Billy’s underwear and starts tugging them off. “You’re so loud, man.”

The part of his brain that’s still working—the part that isn’t floating on a cloud of horny thoughts, mostly about how fucking pornographic Tommy’s mouth looks right now, pink, flushed, and slick from nose to chin—is smart enough to know that if he’s too loud they might get caught. But he’s having a hard time making himself care. And he’s sure he’ll care even less when Tommy puts his lips back where they fucking belong.

Then Tommy’s leaning over him, damp grey briefs folded up in one hand, easing Billy’s mouth open with the other.

He’s slow about it. Deliberate. Telegraphing his movements so Billy and the three brain cells he’s got left understand what he’a about to do. Billy could clench his jaw against his prodding at any time. He could turn his head to escape Tommy’s hold. 

But he doesn’t. 

The taste of his own sex isn’t unfamiliar, but it’s oddly thrilling in this context. It feels dirty in the best kind of way. Cotton sticking to his tongue, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth, Tommy’s gaze heavy on his parted lips. Billy wonders if he’s thinking about other things he could stuff Billy’s mouth with to shut him up. 

Biting down on creased fabric is odd, but it definitely muffles his whimpering. 

Which is, admittedly, handy when Tommy dives back in with no warning.

He doesn’t hold back at all, pressing in close, his hands gripping Billy’s hips to keep him in place. His tongue curls around Billy’s cock, over and over in firm swipes.

And Billy sees stars. He can hear his own stifled moaning through the makeshift gag, but he barely recognizes is own voice. Every pitched, breathy noise that comes out of him is a shock he doesn’t have time to linger on, and he doesn’t fucking care to, not when he can barely process how good he feels right now, let alone feel anything but Tommy’s mouth and the heat building under his skin. His whole body is taut with it, muscles tensing as he tries to hold onto the sparks dancing through him. 

It doesn’t take long for him to come with a hoarse shout and an embarrassing gush of wetness all over Tommy’s chin, white-knuckled and curled around Tommy’s sloped shoulders.

He flops back, breathing hard and staring, unseeing, at the ceiling.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says again, with something resembling awe. 

Billy closes his eyes, trying to measure the rise and fall of his chest. His whole body is tingling. And a little sore.

He feels a little tug, Tommy picking at the briefs stuffed into his mouth. He loosens his jaw and lets him remove them. There’s spit trickling down his cheek. Tommy wipes it up, carefully patting the side of his face. 

“You good?”

“Mhm,” Billy hums.

“...Been a while?”

He cracks an eye open and glances over at Tommy. His eyebrows are near his hairline, but it doesn’t look judgemental. A little amused, maybe. Billy sighs. “You could say that.”

“Oh?”

It’s been thirteen months since anyone’s touched him below the belt. He doesn’t remember who it was, but he remembers tequila and lime, hearing shitty dance music in another room while he let someone stick their hand in his pants, half-expecting it to retreat immediately. 

No one’s ever touched him like this, though. 

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, unsure how to respond. He lands on, “Never been blown before.” 

Tommy blinks at him. “No shit?” His hand makes a weird aborted movement, then lands on the carpet next to him. Billy has the weird urge to hold it. Or to be held, maybe. As the sweat on his skin cools he starts to itch, an unfamiliar ache blooming in his chest.

“No shit,” he echoes.

“That’s…” Tommy scratches his eyebrow. “Kinda hot actually. I popped your cherry.”

“I’ve had sex.”

“Yeah, but not that kind.”

“...Whatever,” Billy mutters, his cheeks flushing.

“I’m serious, dude.” Tommy’s smiling now, his lips still shiny and pink and distracting. “That was, uh. Kind of awesome. All of it. Plus the cherry on top.”

He can’t help but snort, and smacks Tommy’s knee. “Fuck you, Hagan.”

“Maybe next time.”

That catches Billy’s attention. Whether it’s the promise of a next time or the thought of fucking him, he doesn’t know, but either way he’s suddenly unable to look anywhere but at Tommy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tommy lifts his chin a little, like a challenge, but his eyes are warm. “You said you weren’t goin’ anywhere, so…”

“I meant it.”

He’s caught off guard by the almost bashful way Tommy ducks his head suddenly, the tips of his ears going red, hiding a widening smile. “Good.” He shuffles a little closer. “Though I get why you’d stick around. Y’know. After I rocked your world.”

Billy groans, and rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Nah, nah, I wanna hear you say it.”

“No.”

“Come ooon.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And good with my tongue.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy mutters, “Okay, fine, you rocked my world. Congrats.”

Tommy preens, supremely pleased with himself, and pokes Billy’s shoulder. “Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Billy tries his hardest to look annoyed at the prodding, but fails to do anything but grin at the ceiling.

“Now, I seem to remember you promising to put some work in, and so far you’ve just been layin’ there.” The smug look on his face is absolutely out of control. Billy swats at him, but Tommy just catches his hand and kisses his palm, grinning like a fucking maniac. “Gotta do better than that, Hargrove.”

Billy tackles him, rolls them over, and pins Tommy’s hands above his head. 

And he puts some work in.

#billy hargrove #tommy hagan #tomgrove #billy x tommy #trans billy hargrove #trans tommy hagan #stranger things #a raven's writing desk

[aerois]

Remarried Empress: Sovieshu Contextualized and Navier the Unreliable Narrator (SPOILERS!)

So recently I started reading Remarried Empress on WEBTOON. Honestly the whole premise wasn’t my cup of tea and I was solely reading it because it was part of an event where I could get free coins (lol). But then... I got hooked. I got invested. Started drinking in chapters whenever and wherever I could, and even now I still crave more. I wanted Navier to have some semblance of a happy ending (and, let’s be honest, I wanted to drag that precious little bitch Trashta by her fucking hair across the yard). At first it was mostly that. Raging at Trashta and her Simperor, pondering at Heinley’s true intentions, drooling over Kaufman. 

And then, I noticed something odd. I noticed-- the strangest thing-- Sovieshu seemed to be... not as enamored with his mistress as meets the eye. And there was even some hinting that his feelings for Navier weren’t what we assumed.

I have to preface this: I don’t condone Sovieshu’s crappy actions. He’s an idiot, and acts very poorly as a husband. And there’s no excuse for cheating. Absolutely not! So I don’t want this post to come across like In Defense of Sovieshu, because it’s not. But I do think that our view, the reader’s view, of Sovieshu, is warped. And this is mainly because we see the story through Navier’s eyes of course, but we forget that every individual person is fallible. Every person, at some point, harbors false assumptions that color their concepts of truth and reality. Put shortly, Navier is human, and therefore is not a reliable narrator at some points. Especially concerning her husband. We see Sovieshu entirely through the eyes of his wronged wife in the webcomic. Pin that: in the webcomic. Did you know the webcomic is actually based on a mobile game? Yes, it is! And I downloaded it! And I’m playing it! And... I’m actually... hating Sovieshu less?????????? 

Ok, ok, put the pitchforks down! Hear me out! I’m not saying any of the stuff he did was okay! But Navier’s narration of the story paints him as this cold, detached man who grew to hate his wife so much that he flew into the arms of some hussy for warmth and then just cast his wife aside and deliberately acted like a jerk just because he wanted her to suffer.  And there’s a grain of truth to that. There are points where Sovieshu feels bitter and does or says something waspish. But it’s not as black and white as you might assume. I played the mobile game, and decided to take Sovieshu’s route out of spite. I opened this app, saw it was an otome with this garbage-fire, cheating sack of shit for a romance option and thought “Hah! The nerve. Probably some semi-abusive dirtbag route aimed to appeal to girls who like men who treat them badly. You know, that mutually abusive relationship appeal that some girls like because drama.” And I needed to rack up in-game currency anyway (it’s like usual mobile games, where when you wanna make cool choices you gotta cough up cash unless you “diamond-mine” on crappy stories to save up the meager bits of free currency the app gives you for playing) so I figured I’d blast through the Sovieshu route and skip onto my darling Kaufman in playthrough 2.

And then the smoke genuinely compelling character development got me. So I could run y’all through Navier’s version of the events, but you already know that. For Sovieshu though? Here’s the kicker: this idiot has had a raging passion for his wife slowly building up for years throughout their entire lives, and only realizes it about halfway through the events of the story. This idiot, this buffon, this absolute brain-dead dolt... didn’t even realize he was pining over his own wife until he was about to explode from the desperation from it all. God, I wish I was joking. Lemme break it down for you:

Sovieshu’s POV: He and Navier are introduced as kids and are told they’ll be married someday. Life partners. They are raised in tandem to respect and care for one another. Kinda smacks of grooming (go mom and dad!) but whatever, that’s the background. These kids are mentally regarding each other as spouses their entire conscious lives. And Sovieshu, as he grows, quickly comes to realize his intended is a selfless girl who holds everything inside. The first spark of his affection for her is wrapped in this: that Sovieshu longs for Navier to take off her “perfect princess” mask and let herself be vulnerable with him. He admires her intellingence, her grace, and her devotion to her country. He looks at her and sees someone that inspires him. He craves the opportunity to comfort and protect her. He waits, and these opportunities come in small instances. But they get older, their burdens get heavier, and like most young women, Navier gets better at pretending nothing is wrong with her and putting everyone else first. Sovieshu feels more distant from her. But that desire to break through her wall still stands.

They marry, but Navier, in her infinite wisdom, makes the assumption that this marriage is entirely political (despite...the fact... that they were raised together??? they were literally best friends their entire lives??? are y’all seeing how this could be confusing for him???) and that there are absolutely no feelings involved on Sovieshu’s side. Expect there’s that little problem. That little problem. Of Navier’s absolute inability to be vulnerable. And so she starts this marriage all Elsa-Conceal-Don’t-Feel convinced that her husband (whom she is secretly in love with, shocker) holds no warmth for her because she’s never received any from him. 

Now I’ll acknowledge that this is a two way street, where Sovieshu fails as well. Should Navier have made a mature decision and asked for love and support when she needed it? Yes. Should Sovieshu have offered anyway, despite not knowing that she wanted it at all? Yes. They’re both in the wrong here. They’re both too passive, too afraid.

So the first few years of their marriage pass by like this. And Navier kinda melts into more of a depressed state over it, while Sovieshu becomes frustrated. But he doesn’t know why. He hasn’t quite put his finger on the fact that HE’S IN LOVE WITH HIS WIFE, GEE WHAT A SURPRISE BUDDY. And then... the little ingenue comes in. Trashta, with her crocodile tears, oversharing of emotions, co-dependent as all get-out. You see where I’m headed, right? It’s not just that she’s the opposite of Navier that gets Sovieshu hooked. It’s that she gives him that opportunity to unburden all this pent up romantic frustration. He can comfort, and protect, and wipe away the tears of a woman who loves him... And for a while, it’s intoxicating. That itch is finally being scratched.

Or so it seems. Because sooner or later, Sovieshu realizes that this woman is not his wife. And she’s a bit clingy, and clueless, and she’s... well, she’s not his wife. She’s not his wife. 

“Oh, dear God...” the idiot finally realizes. “I don’t want this hussy. I want my wife!” 

Ding ding ding! You did it! And it only took you--what? 20 years? After all this time, Sovieshu (and the audience playing his route) realizes. He’s not cheating because he’s bored, or because he hates his wife, or because he’s Inherently An Asshole And That’s What Assholes Do. He’s cheating because he’s using this woman as a stand-in for his wife. He’s been looking straight through this woman and seeking his wife the entire time. He’s cheating because he’s stupid and repressed and misguided and human. And again, that doesn’t excuse it. He still cheated, and that’s something he needs to spend a life-time making up for. It’s a mistake, and a big one. But it’s not fueled by a malicious hatred or a desire to hurt her. It’s fueled by confusion and fear. And, strangely enough, a desire to perform love for his wife.

So anyway, this stupid dweeb finally wakes up and realizes that no matter how much he plays around with the Town Skank, it doesn’t slate that thirst for the woman he’s spent his life growing to love. And that he actually, truly loves her to begin with. Now at this point, Navier was away travelling, doing queenly stuff. And he gets a message from a servant-- his wife is home. This boy books it. This man throws down what he’s doing, sprints across the imperial palace, to stumble at the feet of his wife; red-faced and breathless, absolutely undone. This man is screaming for his wife on the inside and now nothing he can do will quiet it. And his wife, ever the perfect pinnacle of a monarch, just raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him and wonders what’s got him in such a tizzy.

This is where the difference between the narratives hits especially hard. Navier has absolutely no clue that her husband is a hair-thin thread of self-control away from all of this just completely spilling out of him. She looks at him and sees a tormentor; someone who’s treating her like a used doll. And he sees this Goddess that’s been hiding in plain sigh the whole time. He sees his sins and repents before this, his wife, his almighty Goddess. But he doesn’t know what to do. She’s still been hurt by him, Trashta is still in their lives, and damn it all, he’s still frustrated. He still feels bitter and abandoned because even after everything, even after the years of marriage, his wife just seems so unaffected by him. This is where Navier’s “perfect queen” image that she tries so hard to curate really bites her in the ass.

These two dumbasses are hopelessly in love with each other but they’re deadlocked in an endless cycle of letting their prides get in the way. Navier doesn’t want to be vulnerable. Sovieshu doesn’t want to compromise, doesn’t know how to not lash out in anger when he’s really feeling sad. Unlike Navier, he can express emotions-- but not in a heathy way. So he says something mean, does something kinda shitty. And Navier thinks it’s because he delights in her suffering. So Sovieshu’s over here in his head like a cranky little child that’s mad at mommy because she’s on the phone, and Navier is over there in her head wondering why on earth her husband can’t notice a love that she’s never actually expressed to him. And it’s just terrible. But kind of hilarious. Mostly sad and terrible. But defintely hilarious.

To further illustrate this: even a lot of Sovieshu’s actions, for that matter, get warped by Navier’s unreliable narration. WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD. THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! In the chapter where Trashta is stabbed, Sovieshu immediately screams for guards to surround Navier. So I’ll sum up their thought processes here.

Navier: Oh my God, I can’t believe this asshole. Calling the guards? He really fuckin thinks I did this?! Jerk! Asshole! He really thinks I’d arrange for a pregnant woman to be stabbed!! He’s probably deliberately framing me too, so he can get me out of the way and live happily ever after with her!

Sovieshu: OH MY GOD, MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE COULD GET STABBED NEXT SOMEONE HELP well actually maybe she had something to do with it? nah. prolly not. but even if she did idgaf I LOVE MY WIFE, I’LL COVER FOR YOU BABY I’LL FORGIVE WHATEVER. GUARDS, FIND WHO DID THE STABBING SO THEY DON’T STAB MY PERFECT WIFE NEXT

Like I wish I was joking, but that’s how it read. Anyway, I’m not done with the comic or the game yet. But Sovieshu’s motivations aren’t all as they seem. And while he’s not a perfect husband, he has the capacity to mature, let down his pride, and make steps toward atoning to his wife. I honestly and genuinely believe this marriage could be salvageable if they could come clean with each other. A lot of people want to root for Kaufman or Heinley, and I get it. Those two would probably treat her well. But the fact stands that these two are married, and surprisingly, they both actually still hold a spark of love for one another. If Sovieshu could genuinely repent, and demonstrate this to Navier, they would attain the happy marriage with each other that they both strive for. Anyway, I find myself surprisingly hooked on the story now that I see Sovieshu’s POV. He’s not a hero in this story by any means, but I’m somehow, against my better judgement, rooting for him. I’m rooting for him to make the right choices and repair his marriage. 

It’s a bold strategy, folks. Let’s see how it pays off.

#remarried empress

[achliegh]

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 15:

Thomas was sleeping, he was having a peaceful slumber until he felt the back of a hand across his face. Waking up startled he sits up. He goes to ask what's wrong but his face is grabbed by Noelle who drags him into an extra spicy kiss. He takes a sharp breath in through his nose and cups the back of her head. Kissing back but still confused. He looks for Clay who sleeps on the other side of Noelle, he seems to be missing.

Then he notices the lump under the covers…. Then it all clicks.

Thomas closes his eyes and smirks into the kiss with Noelle as she whines into his mouth and unintentionally yanks on the hair at the side and back of his head. Thomas blindly starts feeling around for the edge of the covers, when he finds then he tosses them back.

“So cold!” Noelle mumbles on his lips, Thomas pulls away a bit to look down at Clay who looks like he is being suffocated between Noelle's thighs. It was a beautiful sight. “Thomas, please kiss me-” Her breath hitched and her legs twitched for a moment before her ankles locked behind Clay’s head. “I’m so close!”

Thomas doesn't want this to end yet and he knows Noelle has gotten to the point where she can’t get off unless she is being stimulated in more than one place. Trying to make this moment last longer, Thomas would lean in to kiss her but swerve away to kiss her cheek or her neck. Just to tease her. His hand that wasn’t supporting his body was cupping her jaw so she had to look at him.

He was acting like he wasn’t hard as a fucking rock.

Eventually, Noelle's hips were canting up like she didn’t have control anymore. Clay’s arms were wrapped under her legs and he was gripping her hips to hold on for dear life. She grabs Thomas’ face and shoves her tongue in his mouth aggressively. Thomas folds and kisses her back. She climaxes, her mouth falling open, her hands gripping her boys almost too tight, and her legs snap shut but Clay doesn’t mind.

Once she finishes her body goes completely limp and her eyes close because they are rolling in different directions because her body is so relaxed. Thomas is petting her hair, not paying attention at all. Just soaking in just how beautiful she is in her afterglow.

A shocked moan jumps out of his throat as he feels a tight wet heat around his almost painfully hard cock. His hand jumps to Clay’s hair and he looks down to see him looking back up at him with his iconic puppy dog eyes. Thomas tips his head back as he catches his breath from when he was surprised.

Noelle comes back too and sees her boys, she turns on her side so her head is resting on Thoams’ shoulder, she reaches down to pat through Clay’s wild curls, messed up from sleeping. Clay opens his eyes from when they slipped closed after Thomas looked away. He sees the way Noelle is looking at him and he starts grinding against the bed.

He wanted to show his lovers how much he loves and appreciates them, he’s never experienced love and trust like this. He has a thing for being praised by Noelle and he knows this head petting is a way she does that without words.

Thomas on the other hand.

“Clay- fuck you’re suck a slut aren’t you. Got Noelle off and couldn’t help yourself.” Clay immediately flushes bright red and pinches his eyebrows together as the mixture of the silent praise from Noelle and the degrading talk that Thomas throws at him. Clay is being pushed closer to his own edge. He has never came untouched before but he wouldn’t be surprised if they could do that to him. So he doubles down on Thomas as he grinds against the bed harder.

He knows Thomas is close by the way his voice has turned into a whisper. Clay pulls off just in time to get a face full of Thomas. He blinks a couple of times before he is tossed on his back.

“I always knew you were a cum slut but I never thought you’d purposely make me cum on your face.” Thomas gives Clay a tight pull after spitting in his hand and Clay moans louder than he meant to. He flushes again from embarrassment.

“Always so pretty for us, Doll.” Noelle has moved to be kneeling next to Clay’s side, lightly touching his smooth stomach up to his chest and looking at him. “So gorgeous.”

“I’m gonna-” Thomas gives Clay exactly three pulls before he is spilling over his hand and his own stomach. Noelle leaned over and is peppering his neck and shoulders in little kisses before getting up to grab their designated sex towel. It had Daffy duck on it and Clay brought it with him as a joke.

They all get cleaned up and sprawl out on the fresh sheets together.

“I’m going to order food because I’m so hungry I feel my stomach digesting itself.” Thomas is typing on his phone their normal orders from a deli just down the street from them. Clay smiles and laughs a bit from how dramatic Thomas always gets. Eventually the food is out for delivery and the tallest of the bunch gets up and pulls on some sweats.

Clay rolls over to his side and shoves his face into Noelle's boobs because they are his favorite things. Noelle absentmindedly starts scratching his scalp because she feels like it. Thomas comes back and see’s Clay’s face looking way too similar to his O face just from her scratching his scalp.

“Nope, if you do that I’m going to get all hot and horny again. We need to eat, Noelle leaves in five hours.” He sits on the bed and tosses them their sandwiches.

“What are you two going to do while I’m gone?” Noelle unwraps her sandwich and takes a bite while she checks her phone for her flight information. Her, Logan, Finn and Leo are all going to Canada to spend the holiday with her parents. Logan plans to tell their parents about Leo and she knows it won’t go well.

Her parent adore Finn and most likely only accepted Logan for being bisexual because of Finn. He was the perfect all-american boy who was successful… and white. Her parents have come to terms with her dating Thomas but they still bad mouth him in front of her with wild accusations.

She also knows that she is the favorite child from how her parents treat her versus her sisters and Logan. So she gets away with a lot more. But she knows if they knew about Clay they would freak the fuck out.

She doesn’t think this is going to go as well as Logan hopes but she will support him no matter what. So will Sydney and Aubrey. They have had to support each other for their entire lives. Their family dynamic was one of those, you act all friendly and nice when you are with your parents but once you are away from them you can actually be yourself. Oh, and talk shit on the parents because they always think they are right.

“If you want we can go visit my parents, they have been dying to meet you. Yes my mom talked to you when the team was down at Leo’s but they didn’t get to know you.” Clay is already done with his food because the bitch eats fast. “I have a pilot friend who could take us.”

“Really?” Thomas was halfway through his sandwich with his mouth full of food.

“Yeah, he was friends with Wyatt in the air force and flies us to Brazil every year. He’s a good family friend. Super funny too, I think he’d be a good comedian.” Clay smiles and takes the trash from their food, tossing it in the trash before going to get dressed for the day in his normal at home shorts, skipping a shirt and putting on socks because the wood floors are cold. “Want me to call him?”

“Yeah why not, I’d love to meet your parents.” Thomas has a soft smile as he takes another bite. He has met Noelle’s parents but knows they don’t like him no matter what he does so he plans to charm the pants off Clay’s parents.

Clay leaves to the living room to go call, Noelle gets up to get dressed for the day but before she can get off the bed Thomas pulls her into his lap. Just holding her and smooching his face into her neck.

“Worried?”

“What would I need to be worried about?” Thomas kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze. “Well, I take that back, I guess Leo is going with you guys and I don’t see Maurice taking that very well.” Noelle nods and sighs.

“I’m worried too, I don’t think it’s a good idea but Logan tries so hard to impress Maman and Papa that it doesn’t surprise me that he is bringing Leo. I mean, Leo is rich, respectful, kind and American so he is everything they have ever wanted…. But with him having a criminal record and tattoo’s and the same sense of challenge that Clay has, I don’t expect them to take him in like they did Finn. Also, his teeth are still fucked from when Aubrey dumped him out of the car and he doesn’t really care about it, so it makes him seem like he doesn’t care about appearances. Which they do.” She flops her head on his shoulder and groans annoyed. “I guess I’ll give you updates about how it's going.”

“I’d appreciate that, sweet thang.” He gives her one last smooch before she gets up to get dressed. Clay walks back in as she is leaving, Noelle smacks his ass as she passes causing him to jump and look back as she disappears into the closet.

“He said he could take us tomorrow, he needs to call the airport and set up a take off and landing schedule.” He flops on the bed and narrows his eyes at the ceiling. “There are so many crumbs on the bed.”

Leo had never been on a commercial plane; it was kinda stuffy. It was also cramped, but he was between his boys so he didn’t really mind. Logan had his headphones on and Finn was sleeping with his head resting back on the seat. Leo was very squished, maybe a bit too tall for the seats. He only needed to be squished for about an hour and a half so he would survive.

As they landed Logan took off his headphones and started texting his parents, Noelle was a seat or two behind them so they were all being picked up by their mother, Leo thinks her name is Mary… honestly Logan barely talks about his parents unless he wants to show them an achievement of his so Leo really didn’t know anything about them besides they don’t like a lot of tattoos on a person so Noelle and Logan are both just wearing long sleeves the whole time to hide their newest additions while Leo is wearing his selling black turtles neck.

Saying he was nervous was a bit of an understatement.

They grabbed their bags from the claim and made their way outside, a large white SUV pulled up and Noelle started heading towards it, Logan following next to Finn and Leo trailing behind.

It was cold.

A short woman with a paisley pattern blue scarf covering her hair got out of the large car and ran up to Noelle and engulfed her into a tight hug, speaking quick French to her as Noelle took a second to hug back. Logan was bouncing on his toes a little behind her waiting for his hug. Leo watched as Logan deflated when his mother, Leo was guessing that's who it is, skips over him to hug Finn just as tight as Noelle. Leo stood to the side awkwardly waiting to see how she reacts to him.

He knows she has looked his way because he saw his reflection in her dark sunglasses. He acts like he is dusting stuff off of him as he looks down at his nice jeans, belt and boots that he wore today trying to make a good first impression. But judging from how Mary is dressed in an expensive dress, coat and shoes, he thinks he chose the wrong outfit.

She eventually pulls away from Finn after kissing his cheeks, leaving Finn an adorable shade of red, she helps him get his bags in the car. Leaving everyone else to put their own in by themselves. Glancing at Logan he notices he has his ‘I’m upset but will try to look neutral’ face on. Leo wants to reach out and comfort him but he knows now isn’t a good time.

The car ride was short, into the heart of the city to a nice sized house surrounded by even bigger houses that are almost the size of the ranch. It was a pale blue color with a red door that was glossy and wooden. Leo expected it to be heavy but he wasn’t expecting it to be shut on him before he even entered the house. He opens the door to find a man in a Police uniform hugging Noelle and laughing with Finn while Logan holds Finn’s hand.

He suddenly felt very uneasy being in the house, so he decided to stay standing by the door. Pretending he was invisible, standing with his luggage in front of him. Logan looks at him and raises an eyebrow until he sees Leo flick his eyes from Logan to the man. Logan nods and mouths an apology. Sending a shaky smile back Leo’s attention is turned to the two older siblings walking over to him.

“Hey guys.” He smiles tightly and accepts hugs from both of them.

“How are your teeth?” Aubrey asks light heartedly, as she sips on her glass of plum colored wine.

“Still broken.” He smiles with his teeth this time, already feeling more relaxed now that the sisters were joking with him.

“Don’t they hurt?” Sydney leans forward a little to examine them. “I work at a dentist. I could get them fixed for you.” Leo remembers Logan mentioning how Sydney was a dental assistant and Aubrey was a lawyer. A very successful family: Lawyer, Dental Assistant, Marine biologist, and a Pro-Hockey Player. He shakes his head no when he looks past them to see Logan finally getting some form of affection from his parents, his father is patting him on the shoulder as Noelle follows her mother into the kitchen and Finn goes to take Logan and his bags to Logan’s room. Maybe he should take his bags too.

“Papa, this is Leo.” Logan gestures to Leo and he takes that as his queue to go over to them. He walks over, trying to calm his nerves. Standing next to Logan he holds out his hand to shake his fathers. “I thought it would be nice to bring him along.” Logan doesn’t plan to tell his parents they are dating until after the first dinner together. His father looks Leo up and down with his intense green eyes taking in every flaw of his. Eventually he takes his hand and shakes it, a bit harder than Leo was expecting.

“You a manual labor worker? Your hands are quite rough.” Leo tries to pretend he didn’t see Logan’s dad wipe his hand on his trousers.

“I sell horses down in Louisiana, my family owns a ranch.”

“Your accent is quite thick, ever thought of speech therapy so people can understand you better?” Leo furrows his brows and shakes his head slightly in surprise. No one has ever been that blunt to him before. “It might be better for your… business.” Logan clears his throat.

“He is living with Finn right now in Gryffindor.” Logan notices how his dad's expression becomes one of suspicion and untrust. Swallowing his worry he continues on. “He is a Professional Bull Rider during the summer.” His father slowly nods as he takes in the information given.

“Explains the dirty boots on my floor. Dinner is in an hour.” He turns away from them and starts walking as Leo is looking down at his freshly polished boots, they were his formal boots that rarely ever get worn. “Oh, and I hope you have another place to stay, we don’t have room in the house for you.” Leo looks up to see Logan’s dad staring at him seriously before he starts walking again. Logan is just as confused as Leo and the sister behind them. Before Logan can go after his dad Leo grabs his arm.

“Hey it’s okay, I saw a hotel just down the street I can stay at. I don’t want you to fight with your parents over me.” Logan is looking like he is going to argue back but then he sighs in defeat and nods. Leo looks back at his bags for a second before following Logan down the stairs, following a long hall into Logan’s room. It was quite small, the walls were a boring cream color that doesn’t scream Logan. Wild and vibrant Logan. The bedspread was dark burgundy and the bed was twin mattresses on a queen frame put together. Leo could see them under the short duvet. There was a lot of hand-me-down furniture in the room. Or Leo was guessing it was from how old and beat up it is, all mismatching colors and textures. The carpet was a dull brown and there was a broken closet door.

As he was taking in the room around him, which barely had enough room for them to move around, he noticed the door hinges looked as though they had been taken off and put back on a few times. He didn’t ask about it. He knew family was a sensitive subject for Logan.

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t really know how to be subtle about things.” Logan hugs Leo after closing the door that doesn’t quite shut properly. “I’ve never seen him so mean to a stranger before.”

“Is he mean to people he knows? Like you?” Logan shakes his head and Leo relaxes a bit. “This isn’t really what I expected your room to look like, it’s very” He looks around as he rubs Logan’s back and Finn is still trying to find a spot to put their bags. “Bland.”

“I was never allowed to decorate how I wanted because my parents told me it would be harder to sell when they retire and move to France where the rest of the family is. It used to be my dad’s office space before I was born. They didn’t really plan for me, but they love me and that's all I need.” Logan pulls away and flops on his bed.

“Aha!” Finn has found a place to fit their bags and looks at Leo. “Where are your bags? I found a place for all three to fit.” He smiles so proud of himself. “I tell you, playing Tetris has really helped me in my life.” Plopping his hands on his hips and leaning a little to the side he notices how quiet Leo and Logan both are. Logan is picking at his bedspread and Leo has his arms crossed leaning against the wall. “Did I miss something?”

“I’m getting a hotel room, I don’t think Logan’s dad likes me much.” Leo smiles at him, watching as Finn’s face goes from his smile to a confused frown.

“But I thought they said he could stay over the phone.”

“Papa shook his hand and told him he can’t stay, I think it's because I told him that Leo is living with you.” Logan is looking rather guilty when he looks up at them.

“Lo, babe. It wasn’t anything you said, I just have that effect on people, especially older people.” Leo takes the two sets front he door to the bed to lean down and kiss his forehead. “And I don’t mind, really it's okay.”

“I can stay with you.” Finn sits next to Logan as he speaks, jostling the bed, causing it to squeak.

“I don’t think that's a good idea. You better stay here, plus I think Lo needs you.” he smooches Finn’s forehead as well and pulls out his phone to call the hotel down the street for a reservation.

Dinner smelled amazing, walking up the stairs Leo followed the other two. The kitchen was rustic but sleek, lots of bright whites and khaki. A table is set to the right of the large granite island where all the food is set out. Leo is told to sit while Finn and Logan get a plate of food for him. Logan's parents are sitting on either side of him, his dad has changed out of his uniform to some lounge pants and a t- shirt. His mother was still in full makeup and the fancy dress and shoes from earlier. Leo knew their dynamic immediately. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair as the parents speak to each other in French not knowing that he can understand them.

“C'est un criminel, j'ai regardé son casier.” Leo acts like he isn’t listening but he can’t help but grip his pant leg under the table.

“Il essaie également de corrompre Finn. Vivre avec lui ne me semble pas bien.” It appears the parents have been gossiping about him. Sydney and Aubrey Place plates of food in front of the parents and go to sit across them side by side. Leaving two spaces open next to them.

“Les filles, éloignez-vous de lui. c'est un méchant.” Logan’s dad said, whose name Leo learned from Finn, is Maurice. He waits for Logan and Finn to sit before he relaxes, Logan setting a plate of food in front of him.

What was left he was guessing. There definitely isn’t southern hospitality up here.

“Logan, pourquoi amenez-vous ce... Mec ici. Dans notre maison.” Finn looks around confused and shares a look with Leo, who hasn’t touched his food and is looking rather upset.

“Il parle français, maman…” Logan is looking at his parents with a completely baffled look, how could they be this bold and this rude. Noelle was still missing from the table, her place already having food at it, yet she wasn't there. “Where is Noelle?”

“I’m here! Sorry I was talking to some friends.” Noelle is red in the face as she sits down at her spot, looking rather glowy… Logan cringes at the thought of what she was doing. “Dinner looks lovely Maman.”

Her mothers face completely lights up and she starts rambling on about how she made dinner. While everyone was eating, it was mostly silent. Maurice suddenly turns to Leo.

“Tell us about your family? I would like to know you better before I figure out if I want you around Finn and Logan.”

“Well… my mom works on the ranch selling the horses with me, she was a beauty queen when she was younger.” Leo notices Mary roll her eyes out of the corner of his own. It was irritating. “ My dad was an AirForce pilot but passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Aubrey sends him a sad smile and Sydney nods in agreement.

“If you don’t mind me asking. How did your father pass?” Maurice wipes his face with his napkin and looks at him sincerely for the first time that night. Logan gives Leo a look that tells him to tread lightly. Leo thinks for a moment before answering, taking a bite of food so it doesn’t seem like he is stalling.

“He died from a gunshot wound, Sir.” The table goes silent for a moment but Leo just keeps eating so as to not make the awkwardness even worse. “We planted a tree for him, a Weeping Willow by the pond he loved.”

“That's very sweet.” Mary says as she lightly pats his forearm in what is supposed to be a comforting way. Leo knows she doesn’t mean anything bad so he stuffs the irritation he feels down.

“Any siblings?” Sydney tries to move the conversation along from the morbid topic of death. Her plate was finished and her napkin was covering it as she took a drink of water.

“I have a best friend Clayton, he's basically my brother.” Leo notices how Noelle stops and sees the slight alarm in her eyes, he knows better than to throw her under the bus like that so of course he won’t mention their relationship.

“Can we see a picture of him?” Sydney smiles genuinely and it makes Leo relax a bit. Talking about Clay was easy, they had so many stories. He could definitely twist them to be more appropriate. Leo nods and pulls out his phone, trying to find a good picture. He lands on one of them in their rodeo grab from last year right after Leo had his face smashed into the poll of Canadian Mist. “Oh he’s a cutie!” She smiles at the picture and Leo gives her his phone to take a better look, she leans over to show Aubrey.

“You have a good looking family.” She passed the phone to Noelle whose eyes softened at the picture but her face stayed neutral, nodding in agreement she passed the phone to Maurice. He sat there for a moment just looking at the picture, Leo wasn’t sure what he was staring at until his mouth opened.

“So it appears your mother was rather unfaithful. Obviously, you are white and I’m guessing your parents are white… yet one of her sons is black.” Leo, Finn and the siblings all sit there in shock, Mary doesn’t even flinch and just finishes her meal. That was the last straw for dinner, Leo stands up quickly snatching his phone from Maurice who was scrolling through his photos, his chair squeaks but he doesn’t care as he walks off towards the basement bathroom that he remembers passing on the way up from Logan's room. Stomping down the stairs and quietly closing the door.

“Papa! He said he was his BEST FRIEND! Someone LIKE his brother! Not his actual brother, ugh you are so mean sometimes!” Logan gets up and follows Leo, Finn is about to join him but he is asked to help with the dishes and is too afraid to say no. Logan bounds down the stairs and looks in his room first, not finding his cowboy there he heads towards the bathroom. He sees the light is on under the door and he knocks. “Leo? Sunshine? It’s Logan, can I come in?”

“One second.” He hears a slight crack in Leo’s voice and his heart just breaks, he hears a bit of shuffling and then the door is slightly opened. Leo had reached from where he was sitting on the closed toilet seat to open the door. “I didn’t mean to storm out like that, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? What he was was fucking cruel and you know it.” Logan kneels down on the cold linoleum between Leo’s legs so he can look him in the eyes. Placing his hands on his thighs he dips his head a bit to look at Leo’s downturned face. “I’m sorry he said that and I understand if you want to go home.”

“This is important to you, Sweet Pea. I won’t leave.” Leo looks up at him, his eyes are brighter than normal and Logan is guessing it's because he was either crying or tearing up before he knocked on the door.

“Leo you do so much already-”

“I’m staying Lo, I’m staying because I promised and I don’t break promises.” Leo smiles a little at him and Logans sighs. Leo is so stubborn sometimes, but Logan loves that about him. Defeated he sits back on his heels and rests his head on Leo’s thigh.

“Can I at least make you feel better?” He has an idea of what to do, running his hand up and down the long inner thigh that belongs to the beautiful man in front of him. Leo’s breath hitches for a second. Looking away from where his hand is tracing the seam of Leo’s jeans to see a blush across the blonde boy's nose. “Please?” His hand moves to palm Leo’s slowly growing tent in his jeans and smiles when he sees a nod. Getting comfortable Logan sits on his butt with his legs on either side of the base of the toilet, Leo’s feet set behind his hips.

Logan leans forward and undoes Leo’s belt and jeans pulling them down just enough that they rest on his upper thighs. He can’t help but smile at Leo’s underwear being Canadian themed. Pulling the waistband down he is just about hit in the nose but Leo’s full erection. Looking up to Leo who has his hand over his mouth to keep him from laughing he smiles.

Licking just beneath the head he watched Leo's expression change. Knowing at this angle he won’t be able to take all of Leo in his mouth he grips the base and takes the red tip into his mouth, sucking just enough to make Leo’s eyes scrunch shut as he keeps himself from making a sound. Running his tongue up the large vein on Leo’s cock he feels a hand in his hair and knows he is doing well. He finally takes as much of Leo into his mouth as he can and sucks hard in a way that would be painful to most but he knows that pain just makes it better for Leo.

After a good couple of minutes of this Leo felt like he was teetering on the edge when there was a knock on the door, not knowing if Logan hears it, he tugs his hair lightly in a way he wouldn’t durring sex to catch Logan’s attention. Logan pulls off and is about to ask what is wrong when the door handle turns, luckily for them Logan has a habit of locking the bathroom door.

“Logan? Are you in there?” It was his dad. Logan looks at Leo and gives him a quiet gesture with his finger to his lips as he uses his other hand to continue working Leo who threw his head back and covers his mouth tightly so he doesn’t make a sound. “Logan.”

“Yeah?” His voice is a bit dodgy, like he has been crying, but really it was from having a dick in his throat... but his dad didn’t need to know that.

“Are you crying? I raised you better than that, you need to be a man and come talk to me.” Maurice stomps off back up the stairs. Logan just goes back to what he was doing. Sucking Leo back do to his knuckles where his fist is holding the rest of Leo. It takes about two more minutes before Leo is cumming down his throat. After swallowing it all Logan stands up and settles himself in Leo’s lap kissing him passionately. Leo cups his cock through his pants and lets Logan grind down on his hand until he finishes into his pants. Leo is peppering Logan’s neck in kisses as he is coming down from his high.

Walking back upstairs to a rather quiet house was eerie, Leo and Logan actually find Finn and Noelle outside on the back porch by the heater just detoxing from dinner. Logan walks out first, sitting between them and sighing loudly. He is now wearing Finn’s sweatpants which are much too long on him but are slightly tight on his thighs. Leo follows after he pats down his pockets making sure he has his cigarettes and lighter because a smoke sounds amazing at the very moment.

Walking outside with his cigarette in between his lips he lights it and takes a long drag, moving to sit next to Noelle since there are only two benches outside and they both fit two people.

“You alright?” Noelle looks up from her phone. He was texting her boys and letting them know how everything went with dinner. She looks up to see Leo just staring off into the distance and decides its best not to press. “So, do you think telling Maman and Papa is a good idea after all that?” She turns her gaze to Logan who is resting his head on Finn’s shoulder with the red head's arm around his own.

“I still want to tell them, they need to know that I am happy with the loves of my life.” Leo blinks out of his disassociating stare to look at them. Logan doesn’t seem phased by calling him a ‘love of his life’ but they haven’t said the big three words to each other yet.

“Mind if we join?” Sydney and Aubrey walk over to them on the porch and perch themselves on the arms of the benches.

“Perfect timing, I actually want to tell you something.” Logan shares a glance at Leo, who nods knowing what he is going to tell them, Leo likes all the Tremblay siblings so he doesn’t mind them knowing. He knows they will support them. “You know how Finn and I are dating?”

“Yeeaaah?” They both say it at the same time and in the same way that it's almost freaky.

“We are also dating Leo.” It was silent for a few seconds before the sisters broke into giant grins.

“I told you!” Sydney shouts at Aubrey who is looking shocked but happy. “I knew the second you were getting the yeux de mort from our baby brother after you broke Leo’s teeth!” Sydney laughs a bit as Aubrey turns red.

“I didn’t mean too! Also, I’m happy for you three. You should know I’m bad at reading relationships by now.” They chat from a few seconds before the slamming of the door to the porch brings them out of their delightful bubble. Maurice is standing outside of the door looking like he is about to kill. His eyes are dangerously sharp and his breathing is fast. Walking over to the group pointing to the window behind them… that's open. Logan goes pale and Finn looks down at his hands trying to act like he isn’t there. Noelle, Sydney and Aubrey all just look at each other and decide it's best to leave. Walking towards the door giving each other worried glances.

“What! Did I just hear! You are dating this- this- this lowlife criminal?! Just because he has money does not mean he loves you Logan! He is a leech! He is dirty and will trick you into doing things for his own pleasure!” Storming over to Leo he grabs the collar of his turtle neck and yanks him forward on the bench.

Nose to nose.

“Sir I-”

“I don’t care what you have to say! You stay away from my son and his boyfriend, you whore! You are not good enough for them and will never be good enough for them… You. Are. Scum.”

“Papa! Stop it! He has never done anything to hurt us, and I know he never would! He is not ‘buying’ our love! Stop treating him so poorly, we want him just like we want each other!” Logan stands up and tries to get his dad's hand to let go of Leo’s shirt but just ends up getting pushed away.

“Logan. Stay out of this, I am protecting you because you apparently don’t know how to.” Maurice glances down at Leo’s neck where his tattoo is now exposed from Murice holding the neck of his shirt. “I bet you are covered in tattoos! I should have you arrested for trespassing on my property.” Leo’s eyes go wide and he doesn’t know what to do, he knows if he opens his mouth this will all get worse. So he stays silent. “He doesn’t even have the guts to protect himself.” He roughly lets go of Leo’s collar and turns to face Logan. “He will never be allowed in my house again after this trip, after tomorrow he will be gone and never come back.”

“Then I will never come back.” Logan and Maurice look strikingly similar, nostrils flared, hair curling wildly, cheeks flushed from anger. There was no doubt they were father and son.

“You will come back, because you are family. He is not and never will be.” He doesn’t let Logan respond before he starts stalking back towards the door, footsteps heavy making Leo’s ears ring with every step he takes.

“Leo? Can you hear me?” He blinks a couple times, finding Finn sitting next to him and holding his hand tightly. Logan is gone, probably following his dad to keep arguing. Leo didn’t want Logan to argue with his family over him. “Hey, look at me.” Leo is brought back from his thoughts once again, looking into those copper colored eyes he loves so much.

“I’m okay.” His answer was short and his hands were slightly shaking but he grips Finn's hand tighter. “I don’t want to come in between Logan’s family like this…”

“Baby, it’s going to be okay. Him and his dad's relationship has always been rocky.”

“But… They love you.” Leo is about to continue but receives a rather annoyed look from Finn.

“They only like me because… honestly I really don’t know because I have made Logan do lots of stupid stuff in college they wouldn’t approve of.” Finn gives him a soft smile and kisses his forehead. “Leo, we aren’t going anywhere. I promise.”

“I think I’m going to head to the hotel for the night, I need some alone time after that. If that's okay.” Leo stands up and tugs Finn’s hand to make him stand as well.

“Of course it’s okay, but if you need something you better call or else I’ll bury you alive.”

“Bit morbid.”

“With hugs and kisses.” Finn winks at him causing Leo to laugh a bit as they walk towards the door, Leo is checking his phone for Ubers nearby to take him to the hotel and books one. Not sparing the Tremblay parents another glance, he kisses Logan goodbye after telling him he is going to the hotel. Waving goodbye to the sisters hiding in the hallway eavesdropping on the argument in the kitchen, he takes his bags and walks out the front door.

The next morning Logan is waiting eagerly for Leo to show up for breakfast. When he does, boy oh boy does he make an entrance. Walking in the door with his arms full of shopping bags from the local stores. He is smiling wide and seems to be in a much better mood. He has gifts for all the siblings and of course his boys.

“What's this?” Maurice asks as soon as he sees the mountain of bags under their Christmas tree, they were here for the holidays after all. There were separate piles for everyone and Leo was in the middle of setting up Finn’s pile when the devil himself walked in the room.

“You said I buy love, so I bought things… with love.” Leo smirks at him and Logan tries to hide his amused smile behind his hand, walking over to Leo and gluing himself to his side. Leo looks down at him and wraps his arm around Logan, giving him a squeeze before they share a kiss much to Maurice's dismay.

“Can I have one?” Finn walks over to them with the rare shy smile on his face, Leo leans forward to give him a kiss as well. The rest of the day went rocky but better than yesterday, with Maurice staying out of the way and Logan being stuck to Leo all day with Finn occasionally joining when he isn’t dragged off to do something by the rest of the Tremblay’s. Leo went back to the hotel that night feeling much lighter. Calling his mother to wish her and the Bruss', where apparently Clayton and Thomas were, happy holidays.

They fly home tomorrow and Leo was excited. Home means he will be watching the Dumias kids with Logan, while Pascal and Celeste go off on a date trip for the weekend and Finn has to fly to Florida for a wedding.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

[vintagedolan]

hiraeth: initial concept

*this is a concept train!! in short, that means you all send in asks and tell me what you wanna see! so feel free to send me in whatever you want to see happen (it would be awesome if you guys send them kinda in order of plot like not jumping way ahead or anything if you know what I mean hehe. anyways, hope you enjoy, and here is my askbox for concepts!! love yah!*

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1: The Valley Isle

“What makes Hawaiian shaved ice Hawaiian? Isn’t it just ice and syrup?”

“Well, every morning we go out and collect water from the waterfall in our backyard, and then we freeze it into ice cubes shaped like the islands, and then we shave each one special into our various menu sizes.”

“Really?!”

“No. Your total is $5.47.”

Koa looked up from the syrup station, reaching over and smacking Kahua’s arm.

“Dude. Do you want to get fired?” She kept her voice low so it didn’t travel past the window.

He just laughed and grabbed the banana syrup, finishing off the mound of ice and sticking a spoon in the side before passing it out the window to the woman who’d asked the question. 

“Yes. My master plan is to get in trouble, blame it on you, get it put on your permanent record so you lose all your future jobs and have to stay here with me forever.” 

“You act like you aren’t going to also be in LA in literally three months.”

“And you act like you aren’t leaving me here on this rock, alone, for three months,” Kahua countered, turning to switch out the withering ice block from the machine. 

Koa looked out over the rainbow of syrups, taking in the view.

Her and Kahua had been calling Maui a rock for years - since third grade, to be precise. She didn’t say it often, and especially not to any tourists who were coming to visit. To them, Maui was paradise. Tropical, perfect weather, perfect beaches. Koa could see it. She understood the allure. But when she thought of her paradise, it came in the shape of a bustling city, of opportunities and new faces and places. 

LA.

Kahua called it the haole’s dream. The white girl’s dream. Didn’t matter how many times he complained about being on the same island his whole life, he never really wanted to leave it. The fact that Koa wanted to was seen as borderline criminal by half her ohana, but she pushed their comments and insults aside.

There were only two opinions that she really cared about anyways. 

First was Nahele; her older brother. She didn’t have to ask him what he thought - he’d moved to Texas as soon as he could, started up a food truck in Austin, named it 808 GRINDZ and brought every hawaiian cooking method he knew along with him. He’d been making a life for himself ever since then, and he was ecstatic when Koa told him she was moving. The thought of having family on the mainland, even halfway across the country, was comforting enough.

But the most important one? That was Amosa. 

Amosa, who called her when he knew she’d be walking to her car after she clocked out.

“Hi Dad.”

“Kaikamahine, my girl. How was your shift?”

“Busy, but it was fine. They gave me a card for a free small everyday that you can have, but you gotta get the sugar free syrup when you use it.”

“Yeah yeah,” he laughed. Even over the phone, Koa could hear the waves in the background, and she knew where he was before he said it. “Come to the dock.”

“Did you book another tour?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Come to the dock,” he said, his quiet way of saying no. “I’ll see you soon. Aloha wau iā 'oe.”

“Love you too.”

The drive to the boat dock was short, and the parking lot was busy as ever. Koa passed the bigger boats, with their names in fancy script screen printed on the side. Their buoys and extra snorkel gear, the bars nestled in the middle of the deck, an extra incentive for the tourists to book with them. Everyone loves a mai tai after all.

The Honu Nai sat at her spot on the dock, the farthest to the left. She had three years on any other snorkel boat out there. Her bow was worn, paint sanded off by the salt and sun over time and travel through the waves. But the little drawing of the smiling turtle still shone through on the side, despite the fact that Koa had painted it almost 10 years ago. 

Over the edge, Koa could see her father. He was cleaning, like usual, organizing all of the extra gear that he had on the boat. The kids section was scarce again, all the smaller sized wetsuits, snorkels and fins barely taking up a rack. Koa knew why - if there was ever a kid on his snorkel tour who couldn’t afford their own gear, he’d ‘lend’ it to them. Every kid deserves to see the underwater world, he would say. It changes you, shows you what life is really about.

Koa had been in the ocean since before she could walk. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, she was one of two places; either diving under a wave somewhere, or writing in her notebook. Or, one of her notebooks at least. 

“No book today?” He asked when she jumped aboard.

“Already packed them up.”

Amosa couldn’t think about the suitcases in her room without the tears starting to form. He blinked them away and looked out to the sea of blue. 

“Did you pack your snorkel gear?”

“Dad. You know I’m not going to see shit in the ocean in California,” she sighed, moving over to him and putting an arm around him. 

“I know, I know. They have sea lions I’ve heard. Maybe they’ll be friendly.”

“I’ve heard they stink.” She laid her head on his shoulder gently, closing her eyes when he kissed her head.

“Well. We have 5 hours until you have to get to the airport, and I say that’s just enough time for one more run, hmmm?”

Koa didn’t want to. She couldn’t think of many things worse than having salt all over her skin for a 6 hour plane ride. But the excitement in his eyes was irresistible, so she simply nodded and offered him a smile, letting go so he could get them on their way out to the reef. 

She sat on the bow as they headed out to sea, closed her eyes and soaked in the spray off the waves. Her dad laughed when they hit a particularly big one, cutting through the crest so much that it splashed up onto the deck. He used to do it on purpose when she was a little girl just to hear her giggle and have her running back to him. 

They made it to their favorite place quickly, and Koa didn’t hesitate to put her mask on and get to work. She took the line and dove over the side, tying it to the anchor hook under the water before coming back up. Amosa dropped the ladder for her on the back, but she didn’t need it. She was watching the reef. 

Moorish Idols. That’s what she wanted to see. They were second only to green sea turtles - honu in Hawaiian. But they were the most beautiful fish, with their delicate top fin that tapered off to a tail. She was always excited to find one and show the kids on tours. All she had to say was look for Gill from Finding Nemo and they were able to spot them. She floated for a while, watching the fish dart around, even spotting a small reef shark about 15 yards to the right before she decided to climb back in to see her dad. 

He passed her a towel and smiled at her as she sat down. All he could do was look at her for a moment, taking her in. His baby girl, on the boat she’d practically grown up in for the last time in a while.

He put on his brave face, and forced his biggest smile. “You ready to go out there?”

Koa sighed. 

“I don’t know how to tell.” 

“You’ll do great. You’re capable, and it won’t be long until you’re writing your own books instead of writing for these… whatever boys.”

“Dolan. Their names are Ethan and Grayson Dolan.” 

“Well, like I said. Soon it’ll be your stories out there instead of someone else’s, with your name instead of theirs.” He said it with such certainty that she couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe it was the salt water left over in her eyes, or the glare of the sun off the ocean, but she began to tear up. 

“Thanks for always supporting me dad. It means the world. I’m sorry I have to go so far away, I wish I could stay.” It was true - she just needed the money from the Dolan’s to get herself started, and then she’d come back, help her father.

Amosa smiled. 

“Kaikamahine, it’s just an ocean between us.” He reached out for her cheek. “And we know the ocean, don’t we.”

“She’s an old friend,” Koa said, her heart tight in her chest. 

“Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s get you home and on your way.”

Across the ocean and 3 hour time change, Grayson Dolan was pacing. 

“It’s gonna be fine.” Ethan said.

“Shut the fuck up Ethan,” Grayson said. 

That was the extent of most of their conversations over the last three days. Actually, that’s how all of them had been since Ethan had signed a deal with their agent for a ghostwritten book about their lives.

“It’ll get more people connected to us, the right people-”

“Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I’m tired of that shit? That I’m tired of people prying into my fucking life? What if I don’t wanna connect with anyone else, what if I just wanna be left the fuck alone? But no, now we’re gonna have some fucking stranger asking us a million fucking questions and digging for information in my own fucking house where I just wanna exist.”

Ethan didn’t have an answer for that. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. But he also knew that he signed a contract, and there was no backing out of it now. Grayson rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“When does the writer get here?”

“She flies in tonight.”

“Fucking fantasic. Can’t wait.” 

With that, Grayson walked back to his room, leaving his twin alone in the living room with his hands in his pockets.

#hiraeth #IM NERVOUS

[harringtonstudios]

best friend’s ex.

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away. 

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting and it’s very long <3 took some creative liberty here so imagine 2020!kells but he hasn’t made it just quite yet in the industry. this is heavily based off the song release tonight with blackbear so enjoy (maybe while listening!)

masterlist!

The circles in New York are different than the ones in Los Angeles. There’s a hint of familiarity in the New York circles, everyone seems to know each other connected by one person or a distant story of that one night the whole crowd tripped on molly. It’s dizzying, intricately knowing every single person backstage or at some club without recognizing them exactly.

You haven’t gotten used to the life, not yet acclimated with the high-fives and looks thrown your way at a party, or the nameless phone numbers crowding your text messages. It’s all new, fun and exciting and you have no one to thank but your best friend.

She’s made for this life, for the late nights and the rushes, the sticky floors and glittery lipgloss. This is her environment, where she thrives, and sometimes when you look at her in the club, necklaces shining with the overhead lights, you find it hard to connect this Domi to the one who you’ve seen crying on your bedroom floor after watching a despairing animal shelter commercial. But then she throws you a grin, crowds close, drapes her arm over your shoulder, and it just makes sense.

It’s been years of friendship, ever since you two met at freshman orientation for college. Her roommate was terrible, and more often than not, she’d be camping out on your twin-sized bed, offering you bites of her snacks in exchange for a safe haven. You both hadn’t really been into the party scene at school, too busy scrambling for reports and fibbing results for the endless lab sessions.

Domi graduated a semester early, spent an entire summer taking accelerated classes so she could go fly off to New York right before the new year started. That’s when things seemed to change. You’d been upset with her, hints of jealousy tinging in when she’d send you pictures of fancy clothes and people she was hanging out with, the nicely decorated venues she’d find herself in. She invited you to come to the city a few weeks in, buzzing on Facetime about backstage passes.

Then you were graduating yourself, packing two suitcases and jetting halfway across the country to live in the shitty apartment Domi’d been renting out with a couple of strangers. It had been hard to settle down at first, the air was different in the city and you’d had to up your resting bitch face game when you sat on the subways late at night, but before you knew it, you were enjoying the city that never sleeps, best friend right by your side.

Colson had stumbled into your life a year ago, and then been ripped out six months after. He was a up and coming musician (self-proclaimed) and had taken a chance bet on the city, moved from Cleveland with his friends and a mixtape. He was beautiful in a rugged way, angled cheekbones and lanky limbs, but Domi had taken one look and called dibs, so you tampered any attraction down.

It hadn’t taken long for them to start dating, even if Domi claimed they were just fooling around, it was clear to see that there was some level of intimacy there, a relationship itching to be formed. You’d been happy for her truly and it was easier than you’d expected to fall into a camaraderie with the guys.

Colson’s friends were funny, quick on their toes and absolutely chaotic. They fit into New York better than you did, and almost every single night, you would find yourself at their apartment, playing shitty drinking games and jamming to loud music.

Domi kept the relationship as lowkey as she could, and at some point, you would hear less and less about Colson. It didn’t really hit you then, but it was the beginning of the end in a way, and then she was walking in, eyes red and wet before yelling out the fated words, “We broke up.”

Everything you had gotten used to was suddenly taken away. You spent weeks consoling her, reminding her that she was better than this guy, stronger and that time was the only way this would heal. She begrudgingly listened, and then took your phone from you, casually blocking Colson’s number along with all his friends.

At first, you’d been mildly upset. She was the one who’d fucked up, the one who’d decided to break up with him, so why was this effecting you? It didn’t make sense, they were still your friends and you liked them more than anyone else you’d met here.

But then she’d given you her patented puppy dog eyes, and you’d dismissed it, decided that if this was what she wanted, so be it. You could stand to lose the drunken nights, your liver would thank you.

Colson Baker and his friends disappeared from your life as fast as they had appeared into it. You spent your nights cooking at home instead of going out, focused on building back your sleep schedule instead of getting drunk off your mind, and the days went by.

-

Of course, nothing lasts forever and six months later, your coworkers’ are begging you for a night out, like the old times. Everyone’s antsy for your reply, know that you haven’t been to a social function with them in ages, and you take one look at their faces before sighing and agreeing.

The entire office claps, you flip them all off before catching sight of your boss, who simply smiles and shakes his head. There’s a faint flutter in your stomach, memories rising from months ago, parties and late nights, flashes of lights and thumping music. You shrug it off, tap your pen against the desk, bring your focus back to work.

Three hours later, you’re catching the train back home. It isn’t exactly rush hour yet, you’ve gotten out a little earlier than usual, Friday evenings usually being dull at work anyway and you’re glad because there’s less people mulling around in the sticky heat of the train station.

The station doesn’t smell great, there’s a tinge of stale pee filling up the air and you discreetly move to the other side of the station, trying to get as far away from the smell as you can. New York City man.

The train pulls in, and you automatically put in your headphones, music blasting in your ears as you sidle into the train car, passing the passengers coming out. It’s relatively empty, being near the front and you thank the train gods before sliding into an orange seat near the door.

There’s a couple of guys sitting at the other end, they’re loud and boisterous, shoving each other and you give them a once-over before settling into the seat. The train moves, and you pull your purse onto your lap, patting it once before letting your eyes fall close.

The next stop comes abruptly, jolting you out of the little dreamscape you’d created. There’s a shout as the doors open and you pause your music trying to tune into what’s going on. It’s still the group of guys, but now there’s more of them and you roll your eyes at the banter drifting across the car.

The music starts up again and you lean your head back, try to get comfortable again, but it doesn’t work. There’s a weird feeling in your gut, making you uneasy but you brush it off, raise the volume until all you can feel is the dirty bass.

A minute later, someone kicks at your shoes and you open your eyes, ready to angrily scold at them until they can feel the rage across the car.

The words die in your throat. Colson Baker’s standing there in all his glory, lanky arm leaning against the metal, blonde hair puffing around his head, grin lighting up his face.

His nose is pierced now and you take it in, the way it brings out his eyes and you pause the music mumbling out, “Nose ring looks good on you.”

You bite your tongue right after, embarrassed that after months of silence that’s the first thing that falls out of your mouth. He laughs, body shaking and you’re flashed back to nights in his apartment, watching him laugh on the other couch, head thrown back.

“Thanks,” he murmurs before going, “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you answer honestly and there’s another shout from across the car, Colson turning to wave a hand.

“It’s the guys. They didn’t think it was you, but I could tell yanno,” he explains and you raise your eyebrows as he continues, “They’re all still kinda pissed you blocked us.”

The statement falls between you two, awkwardly as the train car rumbles on. You wince a little as he fake coughs to fill the empty space.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that man. You guys were like family,” you carefully mention, hands playing with the hair tie on your wrist.

“It’s cool. I get it, I mean we both know Domi,” he stammers out and his own hand goes to rub at his chin.

This conversation isn’t what either of you expected and you shift up in your seat, trying to change the topic at the mention of your best friend.

“So what’ve you been up to?” you ask and he smiles at the gateway question, eager to get rid of the uncomfortable energy.

“Got signed to a record label,” he murmurs and the smile that takes over your face is unreal. There’s pride blooming in your chest.

“No way!! Oh my god, congrats dude. That’s killer,” you gush out and his cheeks taint red at your words.

“Thanks,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew you’d do it. You’re immensely talented,” you continue on as the train comes to a stop.

It’s not yours but it seems to be his. The guys all shout over at him and he’s looking up and then gazing at you, caught between the two options before he makes up his mind.

He doesn’t choose you, you’re not surprised.

“I appreciate you!” he shouts out before running off the car, joining the rest of the guys on the station.

You turn in your seat and wave at them, catching a couple of glares and hesitant waves back before the car pulls away, to the next destination.

The music starts up again and you will your heart to slow down for reasons you can’t even comprehend.

-

Domi gives you a look as you rush into your room. Usually after work, you spend time in the kitchen, milling around grabbing little snacks as she cooks, but you actually have plans tonight.

It’s the first time you’re going out in months and you take a quick shower before pulling out all the old outfits you’d shoved into the back of your closet.

There’s a nice dress, black with faint traces of glitter and you eye it for a second before deciding against it. This is a fun night with the coworkers, not your insane best friend who’d always managed to get you to dress your very best.

There’s a pair of skinny jeans tossed into a dresser, and you eye the rips in it before pulling it on. It looks good, tight in all the right places and you root around for a shirt that can be just fancy enough.

There’s a nice purple one tossed in the closet, slipping off of a hanger and you grab it before pulling it on and tying it up in the front.

It’s pretty, makes you look just right and you play around with your hair before sitting down and committing to a makeup look.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing your keys, a pack of gum, gloss and your phone into a small purse. It hangs off of your wrist and you take a look in the mirror before stepping out of your room.

“Where are you going?” Domi asks, her tone slightly cold.

“Night out. Coworkers invited me and I couldn’t say no,” you explain, running your hands down the jeans.

“Oh,” her face falls.

“Do I-look good?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah. You always do bitch,” she half-heartedly adds and you smile at her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you say, grabbing a carrot from the countertop.

“I’ll wait up,” she smirks and you nod before heading out the door.

The club’s only a few stops away and when you swipe your metro card again, you groan at how low the funds are running. You haven’t filled it just yet, and the $1.25 flashes up at you, taunting.

“I’m poor,” you scoff at the machine and the girl swiping next to you laughs.

You get in somehow, sneakily using the swinging baby stroller door and by the time the train pulls up, you’re only running a few minutes late.

It only hits you when you sink into the familiar orange seat that you didn’t tell Domi about running into her ex. You know she doesn’t care as much about Colson now, scorchingly refers to him as that one rapper, but it’s an unspoken rule. You always tell if you run into the ex.

Your fingers tap against your phone screen, wondering if texting her is appropriate but you drop it quickly. It’s not a big deal. You’ll just let her know when you get home tonight.

The doors open, you leave and then you’re stalking towards the club doors, eyeing the long line. The bouncer is staring everyone down, and you wade up to the front. You’ve learned enough tricks in the short party lifestyle you’d had.

“I’m with the VIPs,” you flash your ID and then a $5 discreetly tucked under it. He looks you up and down, grumbles slightly before taking the money from you.

The rope opens and you smile before stepping through into the dark. It’s loud inside already, the lights contrasting the slight evening colors from outside. You look around before you spot the team and walk over to them.

“Hey!!!” they exclaim and then you’re being handed a glass, cheering the night as everyone drinks it down.

It’s tequila, stings in the back of your throat and you cough before wiping your mouth, “God, I haven’t had this in so long.”

“See that’s why we needed you out tonight,” one of them goes, checking your shoulder with theirs. You laugh before agreeing and order your drink of choice, chiming into the conversation.

It’s going so well, the night seems to be twinged with good vibes. You feel nice and loose, arm draped over your nearest friend as you two sway at the songs playing.

There’s a commotion at the door and you guys turn towards the bouncer only to see people scuffling around, pushing to get closer.

“Hey dude! I’m playing tonight. Musical guest here!!!” comes a loud voice, and it rings familiar in your head. It’s faint, digging somewhere into the back of your mind and you get on your tip-toes trying to see.

“Fuck you,” someone else spits and it echoes around the club.

The crowd splits open then, and you get a glimpse at old friends, adjusting their hats as they stalk across to the stage.

Rook’s fuming as he walks past you, and you spot the tell-tale crease on his face, the grit of his teeth. It scares you, the memory of it all after late night game losses, the way he would blow a gasket about cheating.

Slim and Baze wander behind him, they seem cooler, always are, but the anger is brimming under and you look away as they pass you.

AJ isn’t there and you guess he’s already in the club. He’s always been the sensible one, stable and ready to take control of the situation when it inevitably turns bad.

Colson’s following the rest but his eyes are on the crowd, hand going out to meet people, smiling at everyone. There’s a faint cut on his lip, blood trickling out and you want to scream at him. He comes up around to where you’re standing, and you step back, let your coworkers high five him as he passes.

He doesn’t see you, it’s better that way.

You order up another drink, ignore the whispers of the pesky rapper as they fill up the air around you. He’s well known here apparently, people aware of him in the scene. They mumble about the fights, the way he never seems to show up without a cut or bruise.

You take a shot, sip at the alcohol, smile fading as your coworker ravishes on about how good looking the musician is.

It takes about twenty minutes, and then the music shuts off. There’s a squeal of microphone feedback and everyone around you ducks, hands rushing up to cover their ears.

“Fuck,” a mumble comes across the sound system.

There’s another shuffle and your friend grabs your arm, pulling you closer to the stage. There’s already people there, milling around, clutching drinks and you try to stay on the sidelines, out of view.

“We should go closer,” he determines and then you’re being pulled forward again, swimming around in the second row.

Colson is standing front and center in all his glory. The shitty lighting makes him glow, and he looks big, energy filling him up. He pulls the mic off the stand and steps back before going, “Afternoon. We are Machine Gun Kelly.”

The name isn’t familiar. You don’t know it and quite frankly, it doesn’t place anywhere either but that’s all you get before the music starts up. It’s weird, a pace you don’t expect from him and then he’s off, singing with a grit in his voice, fingers flying across a guitar draped over his shoulder.

Everyone seems to bob along in the crowd and you do too, losing yourself in the way he sounds, the tone of his voice as he croons. The music is great, drums harsh and strong, guitar loud behind the vocals.

The set’s over quick and you’re slightly sweating by the end of it. He thanks the crowd before jumping off stage, and you immediately retreat back to the bar, anxious to steer clear of him.

Even in your drunken state of mind, it’s a bright red flashing light: Stay away from Colson. Stay away from the guys.

You switch to water for a while, try to stop your head from spinning with the lights. Everyone you came with is somewhere on the dance floor, so when an arm drapes on your shoulders, you freeze up, still facing the bar.

“Hey,” and then you’re looking up at Slim’s face, sweaty and eager.

“Slim,” you breathe out, vice in your chest loosening at the fact that it isn’t Colson. You don’t know why this is better, but it is.

“What’re you drinking?” he asks, hand going up to call over the bartender.

You don’t have the heart to say water, know that he’ll laugh and then get you a beer, so you murmur, “Get me a shot of vodka?”

His smile widens and he shouts the drink order over the counter before dropping his arm, “You sipping the hard stuff now?”

Shaking your head, you respond, “I’ve always drank the hard stuff.”

“Yeah, back when we hung out,” he slips into the banter, and your heart stops. You didn’t realize it had hurt them this bad, that months later, drunk and high off of a good show, Slim still manages to bring it up, voice tightening slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry about all that. I really am,” you start, but then he’s passing you the drink and locking arms.

“Cheers,” he says and you clink your shot glass against his, tipping it back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out but he throws you a look.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says and then he’s shouting out, “Yo Kells!”

It clicks into place then, the Machine Gun Kelly. It’s his nickname, has been for years apparently since he was rapping in middle school hallways, but he’d always introduced himself as Colson to new friends, let them decide whether the Kells fit him or not.

You hadn’t called him Kells once, in the months of knowing him, had laughed about it a couple of times with Domi, who loved to mock it any chance she could.

“You stalking me?” Kells sleazes out, there’s already a drink in his hand, someone following him around with bright eyes.

“No,” you state, moving away from the counter. The red lights are in full effect, this could end up terribly.

“Seems like it,” he sums up, coming in closer to lean against the bar. His lip is still cut, looks swollen as he approaches you.

“You fucked up your lip,” you state, mind cursing at the lack of filter you seem to have around your best friend’s ex.

“What?” he goes, and then his fingers are rubbing at the fat lip, eyes scrunching, “Guess I did.”

“Well it was nice to see you again,” you try.

“I just got here, you leaving already?” he murmurs, brushing off the person following him.

Slim’s moved to the other end of the bar, Rook’s throwing you a glare.

“Don’t think your friends want me around,” you nod over.

He turns his head and makes some kind of motion. Rook drops his eye contact, head going to duck at the bar. Slim smiles.

“They don’t know what’s good for them,” he mumbles, head turning back. His fingers tap at the bar, and there’s a beer appearing. He smiles at the bartender.

“I’m good for them?” you scoff, there’s a hint of bitterness at your tone, but it’s not directed exactly at them. It isn’t their fault.

“Always have been. The good influence when we would try and do stupid shit,” he says thoughtfully. He’s almost as drunk as you, eyes slightly red.

You laugh at that, “You’re always doing stupid shit. Great set by the way, impressed the fuck out of me.”

“You didn’t expect it?” he says as if you were supposed to have known all his songs by heart.

“I haven’t heard any of your music,” you honestly reply.

“Not even the mixtapes?” he seems shocked.

“No, Domi never sent them to me and you all just assumed so,” you stop yourself, falling into dangerous territory.

At the name drop of his ex, he winces a little, “God she was a fucking head-case.”

“Hey that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” you shout a little too loud. You catch Slim slamming a hand onto Rook’s shoulder. The air becomes stifled.

“Sorry,” Colson offers, taking a long, pointed sip.

You sigh, “Don’t be. She can be a little much sometimes. I’m sorry for how it all ended.”

“You should hang with us tonight,” he calmly says, switching the subject. Your breath catches in your throat.

“I don’t know-“ you start.

He cuts you off, “I get it. If you want, we’ll be here for a while. Find us.”

That’s all you get and then he’s walking towards the gang, slipping into the crowd. You drop your head onto the shell covered bar, groaning out.

-

The night dwindles down, your coworkers trickle out, slamming messy kisses on your face before walking out. You’re left by yourself soon enough and there’s a pulsing in your head, matching the music vibrating under your shoes.

It doesn’t take long to decide. You want to hang out with Colson and them, with Machine Gun Kelly. It’s a bad idea, you can tell before you’ve even fully determined it, but it’s as if fate’s lined everything up for you. It’s gonna happen.

You push away the nagging thoughts, wander around the club trying to find someone, coming up empty. Everyone seems to have left and you roll your eyes before stepping out yourself. Maybe fate doesn’t want this to happen.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you spot Rook across the street, blunt in hand. He hasn’t seen you, looking down at his shoes but you know him well and if he’s around it means the others are close by.

You brace yourself, work up some form of courage and walk over. He looks up at the sound and there’s immediate dislike flashing across his face.

Out of everyone, Rook’s been the most temperamental. You’d thought it was going to be Colson at first glance, but were quickly proven wrong by his friend, by the harshness of his demeanor at times. He doesn’t hide his feelings, and while you respect that, you’re also intimidated by his posturing.

“Hey Rook,” you mumble.

“Y/N,” he bluntly states.

“How have you been?” you try, but immediately know it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Cut the shit. What’d you want?” he bites out, eyes hard.

“Was wondering if I could catch a ride with you guys?” you question. 

AJ usually drives them around, his black van large enough for the gang, and his self control strong enough to stay sober. You don’t know if it’s changed since the last time everyone hung out, but you’re hoping it hasn’t for the sake of your almost empty metrocard.

“Why’d you think we drove here?” he’s shrugs, giving you a hard time, and you shake your head wondering if your pride is worth this.

“Never mind dude,” you turn around but then he’s groaning behind you.

“Yeah we’ll take you back home. Kells’ kill me if I let you walk around here drunk. C’mon,” he says and you try to hide your smile as you follow him.

He takes a few more hits before tossing his blunt to the ground, and you’re glad he hasn’t offered you any. It would be too forgiving of him, too close to what you all used to be, and you wouldn’t know what to do if it came to that. Domi would kill you, hell she’d kill you if she knew you were getting into a car with them right now.

He stops in front of the familiar van, opens the door with force and everyone’s shouting inside, clambering over each other. You almost smile at the chaos, the familiarity of it all.

“Y/N!” Colson’s shouting and you do smile then. He slumps over long limbs and comes over to the door, reaching his hand out to you.

“You coming with us?” he asks and you nod before Rook mutters, “She needs a ride home.”

Colson purses his lips before looking back over at you, hand still outstretched, “Yeah, c’mon in. AJ got you.”

It’s late, later than you should be out and there’s a reminder that Domi’s waiting for you back home, wants to hear about your night. Your resolve flickers the minute his hand wraps around yours.

He tugs you in the van, and you follow, stepping in before they all scatter around, making enough space. There’s another girl with them, someone you don’t remember meeting or knowing but she smiles at you and curls into Rook’s side.

The music in the van is almost as loud as in the club, filling up the space. You wonder, not for the first time, how AJ drives like this, how he casually sings along, fist bumping the rest of the guys after a song.

Before you know it, there’s a blunt being passed around. Colson skips you on the first round, and you try not to let it hurt, remind yourself that you’ve stung them harder than this, hurt them worse.

He leans into your space after handing it off, whispers, “You still don’t smoke right?”

There’s a painful twist in your stomach at his question. When you all first met, you wouldn’t smoke blunts with them, hesitant about the strain and Domi’s eyes on you. She hated weed, despised the smell and would always remind you of that fact before you’d all spend the night out.

After the breakup, she’d loosened up on that, didn’t care if you smoked out on the fire escape, and sometimes even joined in, it was weird. Weirder than the fact that Colson somehow remembered all this months later.

“I do,” you whispered back, licking your lips, “smoke I mean.”

“Oh,” he softly says and then the blunt’s coming back around. He barely takes a hit before handing it off to you, pushing your hand slightly with his fist.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smoking it in. It’s strong, brings an immediate rush. You close your eyes.

When you open them, Colson’s too close to you. The red lights flash hard in your head and then the car’s stopping in front of their building.

You don’t even hesitate, “Is it wrong if I come up with you?”

His eyes look into yours, it’s quiet enough that you feel the weight of your statement sink in. This is bad, so bad.

He doesn’t say anything but everyone around you is moving, pulling off instruments and slamming doors. He carefully takes your hand, pulls the blunt out from your other one.

“AJ, we’re gonna chill for a while,” he says, towards the front seat, giving him the blunt. There’s a hum and then he’s opening the door, pulling you out just as he’d pulled you in.

For a second, you hesitate and then you’re falling into him. His arm wraps around your hips, pulls you back up on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” his voice is quiet, the world still moves around you both but it feels like you’re the only two people who matter.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Wanna go home?” he says, and the words hit you for a second before you shake your head.

“No, this is cool,” you tongue out.

You’re both walking into the building then, satisfied with your answers. The manager gives you a once over at the front desk but that’s all before Colson’s thumbing the elevator button.

“What about everyone else?” you murmur.

He looks at them unloading the van and lets out a laugh, fingers tightening slightly against yours as he shakes, “They’re gonna be busy a while.”

You laugh back, try to tamper down the feeling of seeing him full-body laugh for the second time that day. The elevator dings and you step in, he follows.

It’s the same damn elevator as it was six months ago, but there’s something different in the air right now. It’s staticky, thrumming through you and it feels like you’re stumbling right on the edge of something.

The doors close, it’s just you and him. The feeling gets stronger, his fingers loosen against yours. You grip harder and he looks up straight into your eyes.

The door dings open again and he huffs a little, “Forgot to click the button.”

You smile but it feels thin. Your brain is flashing wrong, flashing red, screaming Domi’s name, but your heart is racing, pounding against your chest.

You screw your eyes shut.

He hits the button, the elevator starts going and you step closer to him. His back is against the elevator wall and there’s a calm look on his face, but you can tell he’s nervous, can feel it in the clamminess of his palm where it’s sticking to yours.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you blurt and you don’t even have time to regret the words before he’s pushing into you, lips finding yours within seconds.

They’re warm and softer than you expected. He lets out a groan as you kiss back, and you’re reminded of his cut, the swollen lip he’s sporting now. You move back, rest your forehead against his.

“Sorry, your lip,” you attempt to explain, but he shakes his head, forehead sliding across yours, twisting it.

“I like it,” he mumbles and you smile before kissing him again, feeling his arm wrap around you, pull you closer.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed him, he’s strictly off limits, a forbidden idea, but it feels like everything has suddenly fallen into place. The warning signs dissolve into bursts of serotonin as he makes little sounds, pressed up with your mouth.

The door dings open. You break apart and step out. Is kiss drunk a thing, or are you losing your mind? He grins at you, pulls your joined hands up for a soft kiss brushing on your knuckles.

Your heart flutters right then. If you’re losing your mind, you’re glad it’s with him. Dealing with the aftermath is something you’ll do later, so you push all thoughts of Domi and her complications aside and follow him straight into his apartment, consequences be damned.

-

taglist:  @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @sophroniaa​ @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused​ @calum-defense-squad​

#sorry <3 #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fluff #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #mgk fanfic #mgk lockscreen #mgk smut #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fluff #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker smut #mgk headers #machine gun kelly smut #m writes 4 mgk

[duhragonball]

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 65-66

This is the start of the “Ultimate Warriors from Ancient Times” arc, but I want to focus on these two chapters because they feature Mark.   I’ve got a lot to say about Mark under the cut, but the short version is that he’s a lousy Nazi and he deserves everything that happens to him.

A large chunk of Chapter 65 is just Caesar hanging out in Joseph and Speedwagon’s hotel room.   They try to play cards, but they’re both cheats.  This wouldn’t bother me at all until Speedwagon points out that he’s been here for eight hours, and never bothered to explain why.   You’d think Joseph would have demanded an answer a long time ago, since he’s not known for patience.  

As it turns out, Caesar’s been waiting for Mark, a buddy of his in the German Army.   Stroheim was in the German Army too, and he told Joseph that the Nazis had discovered three other Pillar Men in Rome.   That’s why he and Speedwagon came here, after all.    Well, Caesar’s an Italian, and Italy and Germany are allies, so Caesar managed to persuade the Germans (through Mark) to let him take a look at the Pillar Men.    So in this chapter, Mark rolls up in a car and drives them over to the site. 

But we already know what happened at the site in Chapter 64.   The Pillar Men have already reawakened, and all the Nazi soldiers stationed there have been slaughtered.   When Mark leads our heroes into the catacombs, they find the remains of the Germans, while Mark bumps into the Pillar Men themselves.  (Note: the above image is not to scale).

The thing is, bumping into the Pillar Men is hazardous to your health.    We saw that vampire grab Santana and large chunks of his body were completely absorbed.   The same thing happens to Mark, only faster, because Wamuu doesn’t even slow down as he walks past him.    He just walks right through Mark and half of his body is gone.  

So when I first watched the JoJo anime, it was right after I watched the Hellsing Ultimate anime, and I got a kick out of seeing two completely different anime takes on vampire lore.   Let’s face it, the Pillar Men are presented as something beyond mere vampires, but they’re basically just super-vampires, not so different from Alucard in Hellsing.    And both make use of the Nazis, except in Hellsing, the Nazis are the villains, while in Battle Tendency, they’re kinda sorta allies.  Stroheim is clearly a bad guy, because he killed his prisoners and tormented Speedwagon, but Mark is presented as a completely sympathetic person.   He’s got a sweetheart back home, Caesar’s the one who introduced them, and he’s planning to get married the next time he goes back to Germany.   And for his very brief appearance in JJBA, he’s completely friendly and helpful to the heroes.   We’re supposed to feel very sorry for him when he gets killed here.  

Part 2 is my favorite, but I think this stands out as it’s biggest flaw.   I get the idea.    Hellsing was dealing with a lot of dark themes, and the protagonists were horrifying in their own right.   So Kouta Hirano used the Nazis as villains to humanize his vampire characters.    By contrast, Hirohiko Araki seems to be using the Nazis to dehumanize the Pillar Men.   They’re so evil that even the Nazis look halfway decent by comparison.   At least the Nazis are human, with human loves and fears and honor.    The Pillar Men kill Mark without even noticing him, and Speedwagon likens this to a human stepping on an ant.     I get what Araki is trying to do here, but it rings hollow.    Fuck Mark, and fuck his Nazi fiance.  The first time we see him, we get a close up of his Iron Cross medal, with the damn swastika in the middle of it.    We’re supposed to buy into the idea that he’s “one of the good Germans”, and it’s 1938, so World War II hasn’t officially started yet, so somehow Mark is supposed to be cool.   But no, I don’t buy it.

Let me go off on a little sidebar and try to explain how we got here.   Battle Tendency was published in 1988.   Back then, Hitler had been dead for decades, and Germany had been partitioned into two countries, East and West Germany.   The Nazis seemed to have been consigned to the dustbin of history, and as time passed, pop culture grew more comfortable using the Nazis as historical villains in stories like this one.    There was a sense that yeah, the Nazis were really bad, but they were gone now, and they would never come back.   I think there was a similar mentality surrounding the Soviet Union after the U.S.S.R. dissolved.    By the 2000′s there were all sorts of internet memes about Nazi stuff and Soviet stuff and it was rationalized as harmless envelope-pushing. 

The problem is, it doesn’t seem so harmless in 2021, when Russia is a autocracy that meddles in U.S. elections, emboldening white nationalists in the process.   The “alt-right” fanatics who marched in Charlottesville in 2017?   The rioters who stormed the Capitol building this past January?   Those assholes probably wouldn’t call themselves Nazis, but neither did the Nazis.   They called themselves “National Socialists”, because they were trying to make their ugly policies sound more legitimate.   The same holds true for “alt-right”, “economic nationalist”, “Qanon”, “truther”, and so on.   They’re just new labels for the same old horseshit.  

I don’t want to judge Battle Tendency too harshly, because it’s the product of a different time, an era when people could at least pretend that Nazism was one of the few problems that we didn’t have to worry about any more.   The same mentality can be found in Hellsing.   The Nazis in Hellsing are definitely villains, but the conceit is that they’re all immortal vampires or werewolves, because that’s the only way the Nazi menace could possibly exist in 1999.    Otherwise, they’d all be dead of old age.   Battle Tendency is set in 1938, so it takes the liberty of presenting sympathetic Nazis, because we already know they’ll be defeated in the end, right?   We might as well see what makes them tick.  

Araki may have thought that using Nazis in a story set in the 1930s would be no different than using Napoleonic French soldiers in a story set in the 1800s.  And in the long run, that might be true, but I don’t think we’re there yet.   In the here and now, it’s aged rather poorly.  

Of course, just because Caesar and Joseph feel bad for Mark doesn’t mean I have to.   And Araki may have been more self-aware than I’m giving him credit for.    Nazi Germany wanted to set itself up as the Master Race, and in this fictional world, the Pillar Men have come to do the same thing, only they’re much, much further ahead of the game.   I think part of the point of Stroheim and Mark was to contrast the Nazis’ supreamcist attitudes with Kars’ ambitions.   For all of Stroheim’s boasting, he’s helpless against Kars’ might.   But at the same time, for all of Kars’ power and brilliance, he’s ultimately chasing the same pipe dream as Hilter and his followers.  

Let’s get back on track.    While the good guys react in horror at what happened to Mark, the Pillar Men just stand around nearby and discuss their situation.   They completely ignore our heroes, just like they ignored Mark.   Kars wants to locate the Red Stone of Aja, because it’s the secret ingredient to the mask he designed that will make them immune to sunlight.   Esidisi doesn’t understand how the stone helps their plan, but he’s totally on board.    But as they head out, Wamuu suddenly attacks Kars, because Kars stepped in his shadow, and apparently Wamuu just lashes out at anyone who does this, friend or foe.   

Wamuu is deeply sorry for this, and begs to be punished, but Kars apologizes instead, because he knows about Wamuu’s whole shadow thing and he feels that he’s the one who made the mistake here.  I really love this exchange, because it defines the Pillar Men so well.    As indifferent as they are to human lives, they respect one another a great deal.   Kars is the leader, but he still treats the other two guys like close associates.    He needs Wamuu’s sharp senses and keen warrior instincts.   Meanwhile, Wamuu and Eisidisi practically worship Kars like a god.   They’ve literally followed him around the world and across thousands of years in pursuit of his vision. 

So yeah, if the goal here was to use Mark’s suffering to make me hate the Pillar Men, it doesn’t work.  The Pillar Men are evil, sure, but they’re pretty cool bad guys.   On the other hand, Mark looks ridiculous here, with Caesar holding and talking to half of his body.   This looks like something out of a Tex Avery cartoon.   

I mean, let’s set aside the whole Nazi thing for a moment.   Why should I feel sorry for Mark?  Because he’s in pain?   He got cut in half!   He should have died instantly!    Because he was going to get married?   We only met this guy one chapter ago!   Because he’s Caesar’s friend?  Well Caesar’s kind of a jerk too.  

Anyway, Mark begs Caesar to kill him and end his suffering, so Caesar uses the Ripple to stop his heart.    Or the half of it that’s still there, I guess.   

Okay, so the whole point of Mark’s death is to really get the good guys fired up to battle the Pillar Men, right?    Okay, Caesar tries to take them on, and he opens with the Bubble Launcher, the same move he talked about earlier.   It didn’t beat Joseph, but Caesar’s Hamon power does hurt Wamuu’s skin, which is more than Joseph managed to do against Santana.  

The Bubble Launcher is supposed to surround the opponent with dozens of soap bubbles charged with Hamon energy.  Wamuu can’t escape without touching them and getting hurt.   But Wamuu just sprouts all these long braids from his head and clothes, and swings them around with superhuman precision to know the bubbles away without hurting himself.  

As it turns out, these Pillar Men are familiar with Hamon.   Santana was surprised to encounter Joseph Joestar’s powers, but Wamuu and the others have fought Ripple users in the past.    And Wamuu’s more intrigued than worried...

Oh, as one final aside, on the car ride to the catacombs, Speedwagon asked Caesar if he tried to use the Ripple to destroy the Pillar Men before they woke up, and Caesar explains that it didn’t work while they were in their dormant state.   Remember, at the very start of this story, Speedwagon called Straizo because he wanted someone to use the Ripple to destroy Santana before he could wake up.   Now we see that even if Straizo had agreed to his request, it wouldn’t have done any good.   Sunlight doesn’t seem to kill the Pillar Men so much as it makes them turn to stone, and the Ripple only hurts them while they’re flesh and blood.   So the only way to kill them seems to be by using Hamon in a direct confrontation, and that’s a tall order...

#jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency #joseph joestar #caesar zeppeli #robert e o speedwagon #mark #wamuu #kars #esidisi #get wrecked mark

[omgericzimmermann]

Fist-bumps mean I love you

They meet on the Haus Tour freshman year. The tour is given by a guy with a glorious flow and the sickest moustache they’ve ever seen and he’s wearing a shirt of a Christmas tree smoking a joint. They independently decide that they will like it here.

They fistbump for the first time after their tour guide mentions the Haus parties that will be thrown, and introduce themselves after the tiniest freshman they’ve ever seen, who is somehow on the hockey team with them, has produced a pie from absolutely nowhere.

“I’m Ollie,” he says.

“Wicks,” he replies.

They start dating after the first kegster. What happens is, there is tub juice. They come across the sophomore d-men, Ransom and Holster, making out in a back room and witness Bitty doing a kegstand, and figure hey, what the hell. After all, it’s Samwell, might as well try it out. The trouble is – that “college experimentation” thing turns out to be bullshit because this is not an experiment, this is the only thing that counts now.

They don’t tell anyone on the team. They’re not shy about it, they’re not embarrassed, and they don’t think they’ll be ill-received for it. After all, their team includes Bitty, and Ransom and Holster who have definitely hooked up more than once, and when they meet their manager after she gets back from Kenya, Lardo has a girlfriend for the first four months they know her. For whatever reason, Ollie and Wicks’ relationship status simply…doesn’t come up. They don’t bring it up, and neither does anyone else.

Ollie brings Wicks back to Vermont with him over the summer. Wicks meets Ollie’s mom and his siblings and they get along great. At no point is it mentioned that they’re dating, and at no point do they feel the need to bring it up. Here, it’s a defence mechanism because if Ollie’s mom knew they were dating, they would not be allowed to stay in the same room.

When they don’t get dibs on the Haus for sophomore year, they sign up to be roommates and spend their first few days of preseason rearranging their dorm to turn their shitty dorm beds into one large bed. A few of the guys from the team are conscripted to help, including one of the frosh who is good with tools but unsure about the legality of dismantling a school bed. They don’t explain, and he doesn’t ask, and things continue.

At Christmas sophomore year, things get complex. Wicks figures its his turn to introduce his boyfriend to his parents, and takes Ollie with him back to Manitoba. Unlike everyone else they know, Wicks’ parents do ask and they are upset. Not that Wicks is gay, which is the label he’s decided to wear comfortably, but that he’s living out of wedlock. Wicks’ parents give them an ultimatum. Either they marry by that summer or they’re writing to the school administration to demand they not be allowed to live together and will never speak to Wicks again.

After a month’s harried debate over the subject back at Samwell, they figure what the hell.

“After all, we can always get divorced,” Wicks points out.

“Right, exactly,” Ollie says.

They both think, unquestioningly, that this is not going to happen.

Ollie’s parents are taken aback by the whole situation, but they explain the benefits outweigh the problems. They’ve got cross-border status now, and avenues for the future in both countries are open to them forever; tuition is different for “non-traditional” undergrads which includes those who are married; they were probably going to get married anyway, so this just moves up the timeline.

They do small, a courthouse thing. They’ll do the big version, a party version, after graduation. Perhaps their teammates will have even figured out that they’re dating by then.

They don’t get dibs junior year either, but they do get non-traditional housing at least so they’ve got a suite and their own kitchen, not that either of them can cook. On the bright side, they can always pop by the Haus and pick up whatever Bitty’s made.

Ransom and Holster are the first to catch them making out in public. It’s at a kegster, no surprise, and tub juice makes them both handsy, and when Ransom and Holster encounter them, it’s with a sly wink and a nod and an assurance they won’t tell anyone about their drunken kegster fling.

“We should probably tell them we’re married,” Ollie points out when they’ve staggered drunkenly away.

“Nah, this is to the point of just being fucking funny now,” Wicks replies, and Ollie agrees.

The only indication Ransom or Holster gives that they had seen Ollie and Wicks with their hands down each other pants is that they offer them the attic as dibs. They take it, unquestionably, and get Dex’s help to do an HGTV worthy renovation off the place. When Dex says, unnerved, “again with the one bed?” they just shrug at him. What they want to ask is why he and Nursey have bunkbeds still, since they’re pretty sure Dex and Nursey are at the same level of intimacy as Ransom and Holster, but they don’t ask and Dex doesn’t offer and so they let it drop.

Their attic sparkles when the three of them are done with it and it feels more like playing house than the non-traditional dorm of junior year because this time they have close roommates. Between Nursey, Dex, Bitty, and Chowder, they’re sure that at least one of them will figure out they’re together. Add in the constant visits from Shitty and Lardo and Jack and Alexei Mashkov, surely, they think, surely. Besides even them, Ford and Tango and Whiskey are around often enough, and so are the waffles. There are constantly people in the Haus and yet.

And yet, somehow, somehow, the first person to figure out they’re together – not just hooking up, but together together – is Alexei Mashkov. He gets turned around at the last kegster of the year and winds up in the attic stairwell looking for the bathroom and discovers instead Ollie and Wicks making out.

“Oh! Am sorry,” Mashkov says. They think it’s odd that they know how drunk a professional NHL player is – who is not their former teammate – by how closely his English grammar gets to the original Russian. “Am thinking is toilet. No?”

“No,” they say. They don’t bother to pull away from each other more than it takes to speak.

“Will leave you alone on your date,” Mashkov says. He laughs and slips down a stair. “Seems I am needing to go to Samwell if I want dates.”

He starts to wander off and then pauses.

“Hmm, no,” he decides. “You are like Zimmboni and B, yes? Is not date, is…more?”

“Yeah,” they agree. He smiles, nods, and staggers away, more successfully reaching the bathroom this time.

They shrug, and go back to kissing each other.

It is after. It is after they kiss the ice and pack up their attic and toss their caps in the air. They hand out the invitations to the other members of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team and their affiliated persons and are halfway to the next group of invitees before the earliest group figures out what’s in them.

“What the fuck?” Nursey shouts, impassioned, upon reading the invitation.

“This is, like, some kinda prank or something, right?” Dex asks.

“Nope!” they call back and hand invites to Jack and Mashkov.

“But how can y’all be getting married?” Bitty asks, squinting from the invitation to Ollie and Wicks and back.

“Oh,” Ollie says. “We’re not getting married. We got married two years ago.”

“This is just the reception,” Wicks says. “Now that we don’t have school.”

They hold hands as they wander away, leaving shocked gasps of realisation in their wake. They think to themselves, independently but at the same time, that the dumbfounded disbelief in everyone’s eyes at the reception really is the cherry on top.

#I have been seized by madness #ollie/wicks #the ghost ship scribbles #jesus is that my writing tag #it's been 84 years #mine #idk what this is maybe y'all can figure it out

[spideymarvelws]

Peter Parker has been desperate for a connection ever since his break up with MJ, and with everyone in his life leaving one by one, he has turned to the only person that he knows in his heart will never leave him, you. With valentines day right around the corner, Peter goes to great lengths to make sure that you stay his one and only valentine.

Dark!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

warnings: SMUT, 18+ my dudez, fem receiving, degrading, dirty talk, alluding to kidnapping in the end, obsessive behavior, sad peter (pls give this boy a break)

a/n: this is my first ever smut and dark fic so yeee sorry for a kinda shitty smut scene. kinda wanted to get something out for valentines day and ive been binging YOU so this was born. Message me or comment if you wanna be added to my peter parker taglist!

Word count: 2.2k 

Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist

Peter parker was never the one to be selfish. He always put other peoples needs before his whether it be one of his closest friends or a random stranger on the street. His hero complex was through the roof and all the other avengers always praised him for his selflessness and care when I came to saving the city of queens.

But despite his good doings to world around him, most things never went Peter’s way and the people he cared about most, always walked out of his life and left him for nothing, at least thats what it felt like to him.

His first crush’s father ended up being a criminal which he had to fight that ended with her moving halfway across the country. On a vacation that he desperately needed he ended up questioning every person he meet and fought a fake hero only to get battered and bruised on a trip that was suppose to help him relax. Hell every father figure he’s had has betrayed, left or died under his cause.

But what sent him to his breaking point was when the supposed love of his life broke up with him for God knows what reason. He had stop listening when she mentioned taking time apart and figuring things out.

Peter didn’t remember much from that night, all he took from his broken heart was that the world he lived in was an unforgiving place. The more good he gave to others the more he lost. He realized that good deeds came with a price to pay with your own self conscious and he started questioning his own purpose as spider-man and whether small tiny wins were worth the world of despair and loss.

He knew that something in him changed that night, a new darkness grew inside of him. He no longer felt the urge to help others against his own well being. But something inside him also told him to seek help, and that why at three in the morning he found himself standing outside your door.

You and Peter met during his internship with Tony Stark and immediately hit it off. To peter this happened right after the liz incident and hanging out with you was like a new breath of fresh air. He’s never connected with someone so quickly and every afternoon after petrol he would find himself eating some sandwiches from Delmars with you on your apartment’s roof.

However three months into the friendship, you had too move away from queens to brooklyn. Peter was devastated, again another person to leave his life, but you made sure to keep in contact with him through text and video calls, Peter knew that you would remain the one constant, outside of may and ned, that would never leave his side.

“One second!” he heard your voice shout, slightly muffled since the door was still closed.

The door flew open revealing you in al your glory. Pajama shorts and a sports bra with a cardigan over it which you kept tugging in front to cover your revealing choice of sleep wear.

“Peter? What are you doing here? Jesus you could’ve called at least. Come on in, don’t wanna stand outside forever, its fucking cold this time of night.” you rambled pulling peter inside your home.

You immediately got a blanket to wrap peter in and set him on the couch to sit. Without saying a word you moved gracefully to the kitchen, pouring out some hot chocolate from a covered pot on the stove into a mug.

Walking over to were peter sat and handed the steaming hot cocoa to him. He took it from your hands without taking his eyes from your own while you moved to grab yours that was placed on the coffee table.

“So,” you started taking a sip of the drink in you hands, “What brings you here, in my house, at three am, looking like absolute dog shit?”

Ah, there she is peter thought

“Would you believe that I just wanted to say hi?” Peter chuckled, his humorous tone not quite meeting the look in his eyes.

“No, no I don’t, I know that that could be easily done over video call pete,” you deadpanned looking at his with your sparkling eyes. Even at the early hour you looked heavenly to peter and that god damn nickname, he never knew hove much he loved it coming out of your mouth until now.

Softening your gaze you put down your mug and grabbed Peters hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his. Both of you looked down at your intertwined hands before you started back talking in a much softer tone, “I also know that it’s much easier to swing to your girlfriends house that to see me towns over when you’re in distress.”

After hearing you mention girlfriend he tightened his hold on your hand and squeezed his eyes shut. The word was almost like a trigger to his emotions that he desperately wanted to suppress.

“Oh baby,” you whispered before setting pete’s mug down and pulling him into a hug letting him rest his entire body weight against you.

He melted into your touch, forgetting what it felt like after a year away, countless calls and texts couldn’t compare to the warmth that your arms provided. He put more weight on you body causing both of you to fall lightly on the couch with him on top, sticking his face into the crook of your neck.

Placing a kiss on the crown of his head you whispered, “do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not-not really,” peter muttered pushing himself deeper into your embrace

“Ok baby, just get some rest, you look like you haven’t slept in days,” you said, moving your hand slowly up his arm that was tucked around your waist. Before drifting off into sleep he felt you put your chin on the top of his head not before placing one last kiss on his head.

.

.

.

.

The past two months Peter has been noticing things he never has about you and every day he found something else to love.

And yes, he said love. He couldn’t believe that after all these years of pinning over girl and girl, the perfect one was in his grasp the whole time. You’ve been so caring and kind the past weeks and he couldn’t be more grateful.

He found himself wanting to be closer to you, wanting to feel the love that you gave him over and over again. He made himself home in your bed, cuddling with you almost every night, maybe under excuse of nightmares but some nights he would pull a card that you never refused.

“It’s what mj would’ve done”

Of course this sentence now meant nothing to him since he found someone else, someone better, but he couldn’t help but feel smug when a hint of jealousy would fill your eyes before turning into the soft, caring ones he grew to love.

But peter wanted more, he wanted more than just a platonic relationship. He wanted the love and attention that you gave him not to be just to help him through a rough time but rather because you were his and he was yours.

Lately he’s been getting impatient with moving things slowly, of course you guys haven’t seen each other in a year so there was a lot of catching up to do, but he was tired of helpless pinning and useless signals when you just thought it was because he was hurting.

Valentines day was coming up soon, and peter for the past few days had been formulating a plan in his head to make you his, his only and his forever. He knew that you be hesitant in the approach that he will be making to confess his growing love but you would warm up to it. After all you didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

Currently you were showering in you room, the day before valentines day and it was time to put his plan into action.

Walking into your room he heard the shower stop. He walking around, resisting the urges to just barge into the bathroom. Once the door opened he saw you in all your glory, of course the towel you wore around your body covered what he wanted to see the most but he would get to that part later.

Taking large steps he grabbed your waste firmly and pulled you against his chest. He could see the confusion in your facial features but before you could get a word out he placed his lips against yours.

Perfect just like he had imagined, not that everything about you wasn’t perfect but your lips was probably his favorite part of you. Whenever you would rambled about silly things like movies or your favorite book, he always saw himself gazing at your lips, memorized by the way they move and how soft they looked. Clutching on to you towel tighter you accepted the kiss only to pull away a few seconds too early for peter.

“peter, what-” you started but peter put his lips against you ear, shushing you silently.

“don’t worry princess, I know you want this just as much as me,” he said softy putting his hands on yours and loosening your hold on the towel.

Peter knew what he was doing, he did formulate a plan, a formula one can say, to make sure you stay with him forever. But the last straw in proceeded with it was when he came home from the supermarket earlier than expected and heard you moaning his name from your room.

“peter,” you faintly moaned tilting you head back as peter made his way down you neck, placing light kisses in his trail. Your reaction made him smirk, knowing that he was only half way through with his plan.

“I’m going to take care of you baby girl, but first,” he growled ripping away the towel and pulling you towards the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, you climbed on to his lap and began ferociously kissing him.

His hands travelled from your waste to your ass, lightly squeezing before giving a light smack. You lets out a small moan upon contact, moving from his lips down to his neck.

“you like that don’t you?” peter groaned as you started to grind on his crotch over his jeans, “there’s plenty of more were that came from.”

With that he turned you over and laid you on the bed.

“Touch yourself baby girl,” peter said before standing back up and removing his shirt flexing his muscles knowing it turned you on even more.

“peter, peter please,” you moaned, and peter could’ve sworn he almost cum right there.

The view of you rubbing your pussy with one hand and grabbing your breast with the other, tilting your head back as you moaned his name. His name was coming out of your mouth as you pleasured yourself in front of him.

He couldn’t wait to see this sight for the rest of his life, he couldn’t wait to have someone as beautiful as you were there by his side, his forever.

Walking swiftly towards the bed, he crawled his way on top of your form.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you,” peter whispered before moving down and diving into your dripping pussy.

You let out a scream of pleasure, arching your back from the bed. Peter swiftly placed an arm around your tummy, pushing you back down to the mattress, keeping you in place.

You used your hands to take some of his hair and tugged pulling out a moan from peter causing vibrations on your clit triggering a moan of our own.

Taking his mouth off of your womanhood, before you could wine he replaced it with his fingers quick to enter you.

You though his fingers couldn’t compare to his mouth but you were surely mistake penetrating you with a strong fast pace . Adding one by the minute before he was knuckles deep with three fingers.

To top it all of, his dirty talk as he looked up at you with a sinister look on his face.

“you like this don’t you baby girl, hmm? Fuck- bet I can make you cum with just my fingers deep in you pussy huh? Such a slut for me and me only. Don’t forget that, your mine. Now cum for me princess, can you do that for me baby?”

Peter calling you slut was enough to make you scream his name before squirting over his face. You’ve never been finger fucked so hard before or even squirted in general. Every new sensation you were feeling overwhelmed you, causing your your vision to black out. The sight of peter grabbing a cloth from the bathroom was the last thing you saw before darkness overflowed you.

Peter came back from the bathroom and smiled at your figure sleeping mindlessly on his bed. He had just killed two birds with one stone, planning on just slipping something in your water since he knew that your throat would be sore after. He knew he didn’t have much time and that you would wake up at some point so he started moving quickly.

He cleaned you up and dressed you I his T-shirt and sweats then carried you bridal style out the front door and placed you inside a black car which already housed most of your belongings packed in suitcases in the trunk.

He laid you down in the back seat making sure you were comfortable before proceeding to the driver’s seat. Taking one more glance at your sleeping form, peter pulled out of the driveway and made his way to his and your new forever home.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #dark!peter #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #tom holland spiderman #spiderman #spider-man #peter parker smut #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #spiderman smut #spider-man smut #marvel smut #tome holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland peter parker #spideymarvelws

[hopelikethemoon]

Anniversary (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Anniversary Rating: Explicit  Length: 3300 Warnings: Smut (male & female receiving oral and sex)  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set May 1999. Another two days without MTMF, but here I am. Back and smutty as ever.  Summary: Reader and Javier celebrate their anniversary. 

@grapemama​​​ @seawhisperer​​​ @huliabitch​​​ @beccaplaying​​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​ @gooddaykate​​​ @livasaurasrex​​​ @ham4arrow​​​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​​​ @hdlynn​​​ @lokiaddicted​​​ @randomness501​​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​​  @roxypeanut​​​ @snivellusim​​​ @lukesrighthand​​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​​@ ​​​​​@awesomefandomsunited​​​​​​​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​​ @ah-callie​​​ @swhiskeys​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​ @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy​​ @cable-kenobi​​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​ @himbopoes​​​ @findhimfives​​​ @pedrosdoll​​​ @frietiemeloen​​ @arrowswithwifi​​​ @random066​​​ @uncomicalhumour​​​ @heather-lynn​​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​ @yabby-girl​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​​ @punkass-potato​​ @coredrive​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​ @queenquazar​​​ @sabinemorans​​​ @buckstaposition​​​ @holkaskrosnou​​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​​@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​​ @jaime1110​​​ @katlikeme​

“I know this is the first year,” You started as you say your suitcase down on the luggage rack, “But I wonder if they’ll ever realize why we go away at the same time every year.”

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe.” He remarked as he pulled open the closet door and hung up the hanging suitcase. “Or they’ll think we get away as soon as school’s out.”

“Fair point.” You agreed with a nod, kicking off your shoes and perching on the foot of the bed. “So, a year in… how is this marriage thing treating you?”

“I expected a review halfway through, you know.” Javier shot back, giving you a look before he ducked into the bathroom with his shaving kit. He returned, hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. “I haven’t noticed too much of a change, baby.” 

“Me neither.” You admitted with a soft laugh, fiddling with the ring on your left ring finger. Just for your little getaway, you had decided to wear his mother’s ring — the one Chucho had gifted you with. “I feel like nothing has really changed.”

Even at your worst, the two of you had always been solid. 

He hummed in agreement as he leaned down to inspect the mini fridge, “Baby, are we going for a classy anniversary dinner or should we pregame?”

You smirked at him, reclining back on the bed. “Have you ever known me to say ‘no’ to pregaming?” You tucked your arms beneath your head, before turning to look towards the open window looking out over the balcony. 

Instead of venturing across the country, the two of you had opted to stay in Miami — but at the DuPont Plaza, in the honeymoon suite that overlooked the water. A little taste of luxury and just down the road from your house seemed like the perfect way to ring in one year as a married couple. 

“They’ve got peppermint vodka.” He waved the mini in front of you and you popped up to snatch it from him. 

You unscrewed it and took a sip, finishing half of it off in one drink. “We need to get some of this for the liquor cabinet.” You remarked as he sat down beside you. 

“I don’t get the appeal,” Javier retorted as he popped the lid off the shot of tequila and knocked it back. 

“Looking to get drunk quick, babe?” You snorted, downing the last of the mini and tossing it aside on the bed. 

Javier replaced the lid on his empty bottle, “Maybe. We’ve just got to go downstairs to the restaurant.” 

“I think the last time you had tequila was Disney.” You gave him a pointed look. 

“Oh, I’ve had it since.” He scratched at the back of his neck. 

“What do you and Steve get up to when I’m not around?” You cocked your head to the side and smirked at him, “Inquiring minds would like to know.” 

“Karaoke.” He shot back as he picked up the empty minis and tossed them in the garbage can on the way back to the mini fridge. “Want another?”

“I think you should have another,” You stared at him, “Because I want song names.”

“Nope.” He let the word pop out of his mouth as he grabbed the two new minis and passed the vodka to you. “That’s a need-to-know.”

You held up your hand, pointing to the ring with the bottle. “I think I’m at the top of the need-to-know.”

Javier shrugged, “Never forget why we moved to Miami.” He unscrewed the lid and took a small swig of his tequila. 

You rolled your eyes, “Stephen Murphy. I’m aware.” You took a sip of your vodka, rolling the bottle between your fingers. “Come on, how about a hint?”

“Halfway there.” He remarked as he brought the bottle to his lips and finished the tequila off with a hiss. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes as you finished down your own mini. “There are so many potential songs… Was it Whitesnake?”

Javier gave you a scandalized look, “What? Is This Love?” He rubbed his thumb between his brows. “Fuck. No.”

“Better not have been our song.”

“Our song?”

You glared at him, “What did we dance to a year ago in California? At that bar?”

Javier arched a brow at you, “Uh…”

“Javier!”

“I don’t remember who the cover was by,” Javier admitted as he leaned back on the bed beside you. “But it was an Elvis song.”

“It was Hall and Oates.” You reached over and squeezed his thigh. “So what did you two sing?”

He hummed, “Nice try.” Javier cocked his head to the side as he looked at you. 

“Just so you know,” You scooted closer to him, draping your arm over his shoulders. “The ‘to the grave’ sentiment only applies for you and me.” You cupped his cheek with your other hand, running your thumb along the curve of his jaw. 

Instead of answering you, Javier leaned in and kissed you, his mouth slanting over yours. You could taste the tequila on his lips and his tongue as you tongue met his. 

Your fingers slid from his shoulder into his hair, tugging at it as you pulled back to meet his eyes. “Nice distraction.” You bumped your nose against his before you stood up, leaving him sitting on the bed. 

“Where are you going?” Javier questioned, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he watched you with rapt attention. 

“Checking on the options,” You told him as you pulled open the minifridge to see what was inside. “Oh, M&Ms!” You grabbed the bag and another vodka mini. “Was it classic rock?”

“Baby—“

You tore the top off the sleeve of candy, popping a couple pieces into your mouth. “Now I know when you come home shitfaced from a night out with Steve, I need to question your drunk ass about karaoke.”

“You say that like it happens all the time.” He huffed, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he stared at you. 

“At least once every three months.” You popped another M&M into your mouth. “Usually I’m more concerned with getting you undressed without you thinking I’m coming onto you.” You arched a brow at him. 

Javier held his hand out and you poured a couple candies into his palm. “What can I say? After a night out, all I’m thinking about is getting home to you.”

You scrunched up your nose and stuck out your tongue, “Such a sap.” You laughed, shaking your head as you sat back down on the bed, this time reclining back against the pillows. 

“It’s your fault that I’m a sap, baby.” He retorted as he scooted up the bed to join you, tucking an arm behind his head. “Tequila’s hitting.”

“Time to interrogate you.” You smirked, sitting the M&Ms and the mini on the nightstand. 

“Interrogate?” Javier arched a brow as he turned to look at you. 

“You heard me.” You shot back, rolling onto your side as you settled down beside him. You reached out and rested your hand on his chest, trailing your fingers over the patch of skin exposed where his shirt was unbuttoned. “The fact that you won’t tell me is a little disappointing.”

“Oh, come on baby.” He pursed his lips. “I tell you everything.”

“Was it a love ballad?” You questioned, running your finger down the length of his nose. “I’ll only be a little jealous if it was. But I know you and Steve have a special bond.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Javier snorted, shaking his head as he rolled onto his side so he could curl his arm around your waist. “I already gave you a hint.”

“You did?” You gave him a skeptical look.

He nodded, tapping his thumb against your side. “Told you that you were halfway there.”

Your brows furrowed together. “To guessing its?”

Javier laughed and you swatted his chest, “Ow.”

“Don’t laugh at me!” You said, as you laughed at his feigned injury. “Dammit Javier, just tell me.”

“No.” He pulled you closer to him, until his nose was brushing against yours. “Why do you want to know so badly, baby?”

“So I can taunt you with it for the rest of our lives.” You grinned at him, playing with the hair that fell across his forehead. “Less hints and more you telling me the actual name of the song.”

Javier’s brows drew together and he ran his hand up and down your back, “I can think of better things we could be doing.”

You snorted, “I’m just going to assume it was Never Gonna Give You Up.” 

“In what world would I sing that?”

“The one where you’re drunk on tequila.” You smirked, leaning in to steal a kiss. “Kinda wish I was there to witness it.”

“It was Livin’ On a Prayer,” Javier finally confessed, “Happy?”

You rubbed at his hair, “That’s not even embarrassing.” You shook your head, “I’m just going to pretend it was Time After Time or something like that.”

Javier cupped your jaw, “You asked… or more specifically you pestered.”

“Javier,” You started with a too-sweet voice, “I know everything about your sexual exploits prior to me, but you’re going to draw the line at get drunk and sing karaoke with your best friend?”

“I think best friend is pushing it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Don’t worry Javi, I promise I won’t ever tell him that you think he’s your best friend.”

“You are my best friend.”

That sobered your amusement quickly, “Really?” Which seemed like a stupid thing to be shocked by, all things considered. There had been so many times back in Colombia that you questioned whether Javier was really your friend — or if you were just easy to talk to. 

“Mhm.” He brushed his fingers over your cheek. “Steve’s alright, but you know me.”

You nodded, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “I know I’ve already told you this before, but I was depressed as hell when Steve and Connie left. And I remember thinking — if it were Javier leaving, I don’t think I would be able to cope. I had never had someone who just fit.”

His lips drew upwards into a gentle smile and he leaned in to kiss you, “Guess that’s why we’re still here… twelve years later.”

Javier slid his hand down your arm, until he could interlace his fingers with yours. He rubbed his finger over the ring you wore, his eyes never leaving your face. “I love you.”

“You do?” You teased lightly, biting down on your bottom lip as you searched your eyes. 

His brows knit together and he nodded slowly, “A lot, baby.”

“I love you too.” You ran your thumb over his lips, cupping his jaw as you leaned in to kiss him. The moment lingered, his lips brushing against yours as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. 

You let him roll you back onto the bed, a knee planted between your thighs as he hovered above you, one palm pressed into the mattress beside your head. 

Javier groaned against your mouth as you dragged your fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. You shifted, pressing the apex of your thighs directly against his leg, grinding against him. 

His grip tightened on your hand, pinning it back against the bed. All thoughts of drinking minis and eating M&Ms were quickly traded in for the heat burning between your thighs and desire in your veins. 

You sank back against the mattress, breaking from the kiss as you turned your attention to the buttons of his shirt which was a struggle with only one hand. 

Javier slid his knee forward, keeping it pressed right against your cunt as you rolled your hip against the pressure. It created the perfect amount of friction to make you moan out his name. 

He released his hold on your hand, keeping his eyes fixed on your face as he moved down the bed. 

“Javi.” You complained at the loss of friction. 

“I’ve got you baby,” He drawled out as he slid your skirt up around your hips. “Just trust me.” He promised as he stroked his fingers over your cunt through the fabric of your underwear.

You reached down and played your fingers through his hair as you watched him, “I trust you.” You told him, biting down on your bottom lip as he circled his thumb over your clit. 

Javier hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs. “Look at you.” He whispered as he parted your sensitive folds, leaning in to flick his tongue over that little bundle of nerves that was already throbbing with anticipation. 

He ran his hands along your inner thighs, parting them wider as his tongue swept between your folds, teasing your slick center before returning to your clit. 

“Fuck.” You hissed out, your hips rocking up off the bed, angling yourself towards his mouth. His mustache tickled, making you squirm as he lapped at you. 

Javier grabbed at your hips, holding you steady as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked lightly at the little bundle of throbbing nerves — you could feel every pulse of need, heat and pleasure burning in your lower belly. 

You swore your eyes rolled back in your head when he worked two fingers into you with little warning, curling them within you as dragging them over that sweet spot that had you seeing stars. 

It wasn’t fair. He knew your body too well and could play you like an instrument only he knew how to play like this. Even your own fingers failed to be this good at winding you up. 

Your fingers grabbed at the comforter beneath you, heels digging into the mattress as he coaxed you over the edge. He didn’t relent, his tongue replaced his fingers, greedily lapping up the arousal that dripped from you. 

By the time he pulled back, breathing heavily as he caught his breath, his mouth and mustache were glistening with you. And no part of that deterred you from tugging at his hair to guide him back up the bed so you could kiss him. 

As much as you wanted to wrap your legs around him and beg him to fuck you into the mattress — you had other plans. 

You pushed him off of you, sliding out from beneath him and readjusting the skirt of your dress. “Lay back.” You told him firmly, giving him a look that left no rumor for arguments. 

Javier sank back against the mattress in your place, his brows rising upwards as he met your gaze. “Love that look on you.”

“And what look is that?” You countered, reaching down to trace your finger over the outline of his cock in his jeans. 

“You’ve got this glassy-eyed ‘just fucked’ look.” Javier explained, his lips parting with a throaty sound of pleasure as you cupped him through his jeans. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I call — I’m a little buzzed and very horny.” You smirked, dragging the zipper down slowly, before unsnapping the button. You took your sweet time pulling his jeans open as you settled down between his thighs. “Did you enjoy getting me off?” You questioned as you circled your thumb over the wet spot at the head of his cock that had darkened the fabric of his boxers. 

“What do you think?” He quipped, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he stifled another groan as he watched you lean down to sweep your tongue over the same spot. 

“That wasn’t an answer.” You pointed out, reaching into his jeans to cup his balls, playing with them as you ran your tongue over his cock through his boxers. 

His hips twitched upwards and you smirked at the way his fingers grabbed at the comforter beneath him. You loved when he let go for you — both of you were shit at relinquishing control most of the time. 

You didn’t even bother pulling his boxers down, opting instead to undo the button and feed his erection through the gap in his underwear. 

“Look at you,” You parroted back what he had said before as you curled your fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing lightly as you leaned down and licked at the weeping head of his cock, tasting him. 

Javier grunted out something that sounded like your name, his hips bucking upwards. 

You pressed your palm against his stomach, “Easy there, Javi.” 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he nodded, exhaling shakily. “Don’t tease.” 

“Oh?” You questioned, running your thumb up the underside of his cock as you wrapped your lips around just the head of his cock. 

The sounds he made. 

You had always loved how unabashedly vocal he was during sex. Some men, you had found, had no interest in being loud — but Javier always let you know he was enjoying himself. 

Javier’s fingers sank into your hair, tugging sharply as you flicked your tongue over the slit teasingly. And he really lost his shit when you hollowed out your cheeks and sank down to take the length of him into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. 

“Fuck.” He hissed out, brushing his fingers tenderly over the back of your neck. “That’s a good girl.”

You moaned around his cock at his praise, sliding your free hand down between your own thighs as you kept working your mouth over the length of his cock. 

“Baby, fuck—“ Javier grunted, “Are you touching yourself, baby?” He managed, tugging lightly at your hair. “That’s it.” 

You lifted your gaze to look up at him as you let his cock slide from your lips with a wet ‘pop’. You smirked, “Maybe I am.” 

His tongue trailed over his bottom lip as he held your gaze, “C’mere.” Javier breathed out, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. 

You rose up on your knees, straddling his thighs as you moved into position above him, hands planted on his chest as you stared down at him. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” You questioned, mimicking his tone. 

Javier slowly ran his hands up your legs, curling his hands around your hips as you lowered yourself onto him, the slick folds of your cunt sliding against his cock. “You know it is.” He countered, reaching between your bodies to guide his cock as you moved atop him. 

There was something about being half-dressed and fucking that would never wear out for you. The toughness of his jeans against the backs of your thighs, your arousal soaking into the fabric of his boxers as you rode him. 

“I’m gonna—“ Javier managed to get out, grabbing at your hips as he moved beneath you. “— gonna come, baby.”

You leaned forward to kiss him, ignoring the slight twinge in your thighs from the stretch. Javier groaned against your lips, kissing you desperately as he came apart beneath you. He tensed, cock throbbing as his released spilled. 

Your own orgasm was just out of reach and you didn’t even care, it was enough to bask in the moment with him — his breathing labored as you let yourself slump forward against him. 

There was absolutely no way either of you would be going out in the clothes you had on now. 

Javier ran his hand down the length of your back, giving your ass a playful swat. “Still got it.” He murmured as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I should hope so.” You huffed, tugging at his hair with a soft laugh. 

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[kewltie]

i,,, had a thought what if izuku thought he couldn't give kasumi the best kind of future for her so when she had just turned two, izuku met up Katsuki's parents at their house and asked them to take care of her and quietly disappeared so katsuki ends up being a new up and coming hero with a baby girl on the side.

kasumi is raised in the Bakugou household and is love fiercely and spoiled atrociously her grandparents, daddy, and his friends. she got everything a girl can ask for but in the back of her head there's a fuzzy memory of green eyed man and his gentle low voice when he called out her name.  she loves daddy above all even when he's being very annoying and overbearing because Kasumi is Daddy's precious princess and very very much like him as everyone says but when she looks in the mirror she sees blond hair, a perfect face and smile that resembles daddy but her eyes are the color of someone's else. Someone who is long gone from her memories, but they live in each breath she take. Live in the green hue of her eyes.

she doesnt know this person name but she know who he is. her other parent, the one who had abandoned her. she thinks he's a coward and weak for giving her up. she hates him so she wants to find him one day and yell at him and tell him that he's horrible HOW COULD HE LEAVE HER?? DIDNT HE LOVE HER?!

Izuku had carried kasumi in his body for ten months and he had her in his arms, giggling and crying, for only 2yrs but he loves her with all he has. when he had handed Kasumi to mitsuki it felt like he was giving away a part of himself because she is his, his most precious treasure. he broke down crying afterward, like he had just ripped out his heart and given it away but he knows katsuki and his family would give her a better future and a happier life than he could ever do. this is for her, he told himself, but it doesnt stop the agonizing pain he felt. the pain never truly stopped even though he had moved halfway across the country so he doesnt give in to the urge to race back and beg the Bakugou to give Kasumi back to him. he can only watch her grow up in the public eyes as the little princess of the new no. 1 hero, ground zero, like a bystander in her life.

kasumi grew up as the darling of the hero community because she was an enigma to the world. A BABY SUDDENLY appearing out of nowhere and to the HOTTEST upcoming hero?? and he had her while he was in high school?! and WHERE WAS THE OTHER PARENT?! a hero single parenting at his age is absurd. it got the nation scandalized and fixated on katsuki and his baby since day one so kasumi heavily grew up under the spotlight and in the public eye. it didn't help that she was terrifyingly clever, beautiful, blunt, and a natural hellraiser just by being bakugou katsuki's daughter.

the public adore her and she kinda mostly tolerate them back because it can't be help that she's so cute and smart that ppl want to pay attention to her (that bakugou’ss arrogance and confident coming out) lol. every move she make and say is always on the news, she doesnt mind it. really. sometimes when she lets herself think about it, she wonder if HE is watching her on TV somewhere in the world. does he see how much she had grown up now? does he love the dress she's wearing? is he proud of her? is he regretting HOW HE COULD LEAVE SUCH A PERFECT CHILD BEHIND? maybe all her achievements (the best in her class, athletics awards, ballet dancing and extracurricular activities she'd picked up and bested everyone else at) is her way of drawing attention to herself, maybe if she's SHOW EVERYONE SHE'S TRULY THE BEST,,, he'll come back to see her one day. the thing is kasumi is perfectly happy with her life. daddy is the best thing EVER and she loves him so, so much because that she never feels like she's a burden or lacking of anything but even his love isn't enough to fill that empty void in her, the 2yrs that she’d spent with that person.

all the while izuku tunes to the TV everyday in hope of getting a glimpse of her somehow, cut magazines and news clippings of her, and keeps track of her life through pieces of reporting because even if he isn't in her life, he wants to know what's going on in it and if she's happy at all. he'd built an entire shrine devoted to kasumi in his bedroom. there are pictures and news/magazine clippings of her on his walls. any mentions of her from katsuki or others, he'll watch the vid over and over again till his eyes are tired and he can repeat it word for word.  

for several years he had watch her from afar, but on her seven birthday, five years since he'd let her go, he was so WEAK with longing that he bought a plane ticket just to see her. EVEN IF IT'S ONLY A GLIMPSE OF HER WILL DO, TO BREATH THE SAME AIR AND HE'LL LEAVE AGAIN. that's all he wanted. izuku in disguise had lurked around the bakugou's household with hundreds of fans and reporters because it's the birthday of the ground zero's most precious PRINCESS and everybody wants a piece of her. izuku should have been in there with kasumi and the bakugous celebrating  her birthday instead of lurking outside like a creep but maybe that's true in another world. not now though.

in this world, he's just some weirdo stalker who obsessed with bakugou kasumi and her daddy as he waits outside to maybe see a glimpse of her at all. then he heard it, kasumi's boisterous giggles as she loudly proclaims she will magnanimously grace her fans with her presence.

"daddy, these people are obviously here for me," she scoffs, talking to an annoyed katsuki as they stroll out to the front yard. "I'll just say hi then i'll come back. stop worrying. you'll get even more grey hair and what will i do if you become uglier?" SHE'S SO BLUNT AND MEAN and izuku wanna cry because that's HIS BABY

he actually didn't even get to see her in person AT ALL because he ran the fuck away as soon as her heard her footsteps coming outside the bakugou's enormous home because he couldn't endure it. he knows if his eyes fall upon her person even once HE'LL BREAK DOWN AND never let her go again!

he can tell kasumi is lively, healthy, and clearly HAPPY with her life because katsuki had done right by her. izuku knew it was the right choice to leave kasumi to him and to hear that evidence so CLEARLY it was a relief and heartbreaking because it means that he was also right that he couldn't give her this. izuku quietly disappeared back to his life, never stop watching kasumi closely and once kasumi turned nine he decided it been long enough and she probably forgotten all about him and no longer caring about the disappointing parent who had abandoned her in a moment of weakness.

izuku moves closer to them. they're finally in the same city after seven years apart but it's not like kasumi nor katsuki knows that he is here at all. he tries to keep a low unassuming profile and promised to himself that he’ll never approach kasumi or katsuki at all. he manages to keep that promise for a year. then kasumi turns ten and HIJACKS katsuki's press conference to declares in front of hundred flashing cameras that, "my daddy is getting old and lonely and i cant be with him always so i'll be on the look out for good spouse for him :3c!" as katsuki roars in the background lol.

izuku was heartbroken in a diff kind of way compare to when he had given kasumi away because this is katsuki and kasumi, the two people he loves the most, finally moving on without him. katsuki will have a new mate and kasumi will have another parent that isn't HIM. he's happy but also very, very sad.

this is where like FATE OR SOME BULLSHIT because izuku managed to avoid the two of them for an entire year but ~things~ happens and he accidentally bumps into kasumi and KASUMI IS TOTALLY CHARMED by this strange quirkless nervous man who looks at her like she's his entire world. shes like ahh,,, maybe i should introduce him to daddy as a potential mate? not knowing that the man she feels an inexplicably drawn/attached to is actually her papa. bakudeku MEETING AGAIN AFTER 10 YEARS and yea, SHENANIGANS, MISUNDERSTANDING, SO MUCH DRAMA and also KASUMI lol

#bakudeku #not!fic #series: re:kasumi #if you're ever curious how re:kasumi came about it's bc of this

[herewegoagainniall]

I’ll Love Her Still: Part 10 (Brian May x Female!Reader)

WELL. It’s certainly been a while, hasn’t it? I know that the whole world has just kinda....ended, but on the bright side, the quarantine has finally made me write more! I’m coming to the last few parts of the fic now, and I honestly can’t believe this journey is going to be over soon. Thank you to everyone who’s supported this story in any way, I’ll never be able to thank you all enough ❤️. 

TAGLIST: @alittlepeoplemagic​; @brianmayplease​; @brianmayscurls​; @chlobo6​; @d-illo​; @delilahmay39​; @kenzie-belle​; @killer-queen-xo​; @kiwithekiwi​; @lizzybeth1986​; @maryfree​; @moreinfinite​; @readinghorn​; @rogerscupboard​; @thelegumemother​ 

TRIGGERS: Guys there is so much angst here. Like seriously, the end of this chapter gets...kind of awful. It’s important for character development! But if fights or name calling triggers you, just sit this part out and wait for the next one. 

“Ladies and germs,” the sound of Freddie’s best flight attendant impression roused you from your slumber, “welcome to sunny California!!”

You rubbed your eyes and looked out the window at the sprawling City of Angels, feeling an excited smile spread across your face. You turned to Brian with bright eyes and held his arm tightly. “Brian!” you said through teeth that were clenched in an uncontrollable smile. “We’re here!”

Brian looked past you and out the window, smiling. “I know!” he mimicked your tone teasingly before pulling back to kiss you on the forehead.

The wheels of the plane touched down (so harshly that you and Brian literally bumped heads, something that the two of you laughed about for the next hour), and the usual production of going to the luggage carousel and declaring your belongings at customs had an added element of enchantment to it. You were finally here- Los Angeles. The American capital of the rock and roll world. Anybody who was anybody made their name out here. And now you were here with Queen; it was almost to surreal to think of.

You didn’t really get to spend much of that day with Brian- he and the boys had to rehearse at the venue and then do press, so you roamed the city with Amber. The dress she picked out for you to wear to the concert and the after party was tasteful, but still clung to your body in just the right ways. It made you feel beautiful. Hell, LA itself made you feel beautiful. Beautiful, happy and… free.

That night, Queen and Mott the Hoople played their absolute hearts out- you could swear that you watched both bands transform into rock gods right before your very eyes. Brian, Freddie, Deacy, Rog… it was a true metamorphosis for the four of them. It was the kind of life-changing performance that you could tell your grandchildren you saw, and say, “I knew them when…”

Still in the clouds after the performance, the Queen entourage made their way to the Continental Hyatt House (lovingly referred to as the “Riot House” by the rock stars you ran with) for the after party. The place was practically swarming with people of all walks of life. Hippies, rockers, groupies, roadies, rock writers, tour promoters- anyone who was anyone was there. It was an overpowering kaleidoscope of long hair and glitter eyeshadow and alcohol. LOTS of alcohol. You’d had the perfect amount- just enough to get you buzzing, not so much that you were going to regret it later. Brian had been by your side for pretty much the whole night, but he also knew that this night was just as much for you as it was for him. This was your chance to reconnect with the scene that you’d left to follow him around the country, and he wanted you to grab it.

You’d seen so many friends already- old friends, the kind you never think about in the day-to-day, and then the minute you see them, it’s as if no time had passed at all. But you were also seeing a lot of familiar faces. Here was the promoter you’d blown for Led Zeppelin tickets, there was the roadie you’d flashed so you could get backstage and catch Roger Daltrey’s eye. They were everywhere, and for the first time in a long time, you felt wholly yourself.

The sunshine glow from your fourth drink was warming you all over, and you felt like you were on top of the world. Then you heard him. “Lily, Lily, Lily. The only woman who was my kind.”

You whirled around and felt your heart soar.

“Joe Walsh, as I live and breathe!!” you laughed and let out a squeal as Joe wrapped his arms around you and spun you in a circle. Out of all the rock stars that you’d been with (before Brian, of course), Joe had been your favorite. He was talented, sweet, and never ever failed to make you laugh. Maybe in another life, something more serious could have happened between the two of you- but now wasn’t the time for that. For now, you were just grinning like a fool, and you felt so happy to see him. “I’ve missed you,” you exhaled.

“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart,” Joe chuckled and set you down. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I could ask you the same question! I thought you were in Ohio.”

Joe shrugged and laughed softly. “C’mon, Lily, you know there’s not a whole lot out in Ohio for us. We had to come out here to make it big.” You felt his hands rest softly on your hips, but you didn’t push him away. It felt natural, having him here with you. “What about you?? You finally made it out to LA, like you always wanted.”

“I did,” you grinned. “I’m here with Queen.”

“Aw, shoot, we wanted to see them but we had things to do.”

“Well, you should see them if you can. They’re going to be legends.”

Joe raised his eyebrows. “Legends, huh? Well, Lil, if YOU say it, then it must be so.”

You chuckled softly, finding yourself falling more and more into Joe’s eyes. God, you’d forgotten how captivating he could be. But you didn’t want to take it any further, obviously: you were here with Brian. Where WAS Brian anyway?

“You know,” Joe smirked, “I thought I saw Delphi from Sacramento somewhere here. You maybe wanna grab her and a bottle of José Cuervo and see where the night takes us?”

“Easy there, cowboy,” you laughed, nodding over to the other side of the room, which was the last place you saw Brian, “I’m here with someone else.”

“So he doesn’t let you have fun?” Joe grinned that jackal grin that had always made your heart skip a beat. “I really have missed you,” he added, his voice becoming a little softer.

You tucked Joe’s hair behind his ear and smiled. “Maybe another time, Joe, okay?”

Joe nodded slowly, pressing his lips to the place where your thumb met the rest of your hand. “You must really like this guy, huh?”

A sunny feeling spread across your heart and you nodded. “I do,” you confessed. “He’s different, Joe, he really is.”

Joe was about to say something, but a sing-song voice called, “Jooooooooe” from across the room. The jackal smirk returned to his face again and he sheepishly said, “Guess I’ve gotta go.”

You nodded, understanding. “I’ll see you around, Joe,” you gave him one last smile.

Joe bent down and pressed his lips to your knuckles, a gentlemanly gesture completely at odds with his personality. “Take care of yourself, flower,” he murmured, already halfway to the other voice that demanded his attention.

It was odd- watching Joe leave normally made your heart drop slightly, the feeling of not knowing when you’d see each other again difficult to bear. But it wasn’t there this time. Maybe you were growing. Or maybe you just missed Brian. You decided to go with the latter and try to find him.

Making your way through the maze of glitter and flared jeans, you found yourself in the hallway. After you gave a quick hello to a couple more familiar faces, you saw Brian leaning against the wall, arms crossed. You didn’t pay it any mind- he was probably just tired or cold or something.

“Hey stranger,” you smiled at him.

Brian turned his head slightly and mumbled, “Hello.”

“Where have you been?”

“Around.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You sound like you just walked through the catacombs and the skulls started talking to you.”

Brian smiled unwittingly, lulling you into security. “’M just tired, I guess.”

“Why don’t you go to bed then, granddad?” you teased him slightly. “I’ll come up with you.”

“No.” The harshness of his tone surprised the both of you, and Brian cleared his throat. “I’ll be fine,” he clarified, his voice a bit softer.

His words were falling on deaf ears-  you were already turning around, the pull of an LA party too strong to make you want to leave. “You sure?” you called over your shoulder.

Brian didn’t respond, so you filled in the silence for him. “Okay, then I’ll just-”

“Exactly how much of a slut are you??”

You froze in your tracks. He didn’t… he did not… You turned on your feet slowly. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” Brian’s eyes were ablaze. “How many people have you fucked before that I’ve met tonight? Hm?”

“Brian, that is… there’s no stretch of the imagination where that could matter in the slightest!”

“How many?” he repeated.

“I-I don’t know, I…” you were sincerely racking your brain, trying to think of who was at this party. “Who’s here?”

Brian scoffed and shook his head, running a hand over his face. “Unbelievable,” he murmured.

“What?” you could feel your mood beginning to sour. “What’s going on with you?”

“‘What’s going on with me??’” Brian laughed humorlessly. “I didn’t realize taking you to L.A. meant I’d be confronted with every guy you’ve ever given the time of day to.”

“I… honey, I didn’t know that there would be so many of them here, okay? I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“Yeah. Well. It is.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Look, Brian, I get that you’re jealous, but that’s no reason t-”

“Jealous?” Brian said mockingly. “What do I have to be jealous about? I’m not some groupie who just goes around letting complete strangers into her bed night after night.”

The confusion in your heart was slowly starting to transform into anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Pretty obvious what it’s supposed to mean, isn’t it?” Brian scoffed. “I’ve got no reason to be jealous of someone like you, hopping from one sucker to another, lying about who they are and thinking that everything’s just going to be hunky dory.”

“Brian,” you said in a tone that you hoped conveyed just how pissed off you were becoming, “I don’t know where this is coming from, but it needs to stop. Now can we please just go back to the party?”

Brian’s eyes narrowed. “So you can find my replacement, right?”

You could feel your hands ball into fists. “You knew what you were getting into with me,” you growled. “The first night we met, I asked you if it bothered you that I was a groupie, and you said ‘no’. You haven’t had any complaints at all before tonight, and now all of a sudden, I’m just trash, is that it?”

Brian shook his head. “You don’t get it, Y/N. Or Lily, or whoever the fuck you are.”

“Brian, if you have something to tell me-”

“I LOVE YOU!”

Oh God.

The silence between the two of you was suffocating. It was a horrible, choking silence that completely knocked the wind out of you. “What?” you gasped, terrified to speak in anything above a whisper.

“I… I love you,” Brian repeated, softer but with the same intensity as before.

Words escaped you. It was like a nuclear bomb had gone off, but you and Brian were the only ones at the detonation site. “Brian,” was all you could say. Not even say, whisper. Hell, not even whisper- it came out like a breath.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” Brian’s voice cracked slightly despite his best efforts to seem strong.

You took a shaky breath. “I don’t know what else to say,” you admitted, lamely.

“How about, ‘I love you too?’”

You let the sentence form on your tongue. It rolled around in the back of your throat like a marble. But you couldn’t speak it. It couldn’t fall from your lips.

Brian ran a hand down his face. “I knew it. I fucking knew it,” he grumbled. “What were you playing at?” he spoke clearly again, making sure you felt every jab of his words. “Why did you pick me out of everyone in the band? What, was Roger too easy? Was Freddie too smart?”

“Brian, stop it!” you begged. “How could you even think something like that?”

“What else can I think? You have every fucking part of me, and you’ve given me nothing in return!” The hurt in Brian’s eyes was palpable and shot like a rocket, straight to your heart. “All I want is for you to be mine. To go back home after a long tour and have you by my side. To wake up next to you and go to sleep next to you. Take you out on proper dates. Fight over whose turn it is to cook dinner or do laundry. Have you meet my parents. Show you where I grew up. It’s all I can think about, being with you for real.”  

You could feel blood rushing to your head. Where was all of this coming from? “Then what?” you asked harshly. “Marriage? Babies? Eventually leaving me behind while you go on tour and find another girl in every city, just like you found me? Is that really what you want for us??”

Now it was Brian’s turn to be gob smacked. “Y/N… I wouldn’t. I would never,” he said softly.

“And it’s not even that,” you shook your head. “I don’t know if I even want to get married or have kids. I don’t want to be locked down before I even figure out what I want!”

“You think I’m going to lock you down?” Brian said incredulously. “Would being with me really be so bad?”

“No, Brian, I-”

“So then what’s the problem??”

“Because I don’t know if I want to be with you! I don’t know if I want to be with ANYBODY!” you ran a hand through your hair. “I happen to love my life just as it is, and I don’t see any reason to change it or apologize for my choices. Least of all to you.”

You watched Brian’s expression morph from pain back to anger. “What are you going to do if I leave right now?” he snarled. “What if I walk away and just leave you here?”

“I don’t care what you do, because I’M NOT YOURS, BRIAN!”

That was it. Brian spun on his heels and stalked away from you, seemingly ignoring the, “Fine, walk away, real fucking mature!” that you threw at him.

Red clouded your vision, and the noise from the party shifted into a dull drone. You felt like you couldn’t even stand anymore, and you stumbled over to the wall, leaning against it and letting your head fall into your hands. What the actual fuck just happened?

“Oi oi!” You pushed a hand through your hair and slowly turned to see Roger coming down the hall from the same door that Brian had walked out of. He was certainly enjoying himself. “There she is, our sweet Peaches.”

Goddamn it. It was like the mere sound of the nickname popped the balloon that your anger had become, and the tears started to spill out of your eyes. “Fight with Loverboy?” Roger asked, clearly trying to do the “cheer the sad girl up” thing and failing.

“Don’t,” you spat out. “Please, Rog, just…”

“Okay, hey, hey,” Roger said softly, bringing you into his chest and rubbing your back. “Easy there, lovey.”

You knew he was just trying to help, but you also knew you couldn’t bear to be around anyone right now. Least of all, one of Brian’s best friends. You let out a huff and balled your hands into Roger’s shirt. “Can you walk me to the elevator?” you muttered into his chest.

“Course,” Roger replied, not letting you go for a second. The feeling of his arm around your shoulders was the only thing that was keeping you grounded as you made your way to the elevator. Roger pushed the “down” button and looked at you, eyes filled with concern. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

You shook your head. “No. I can’t… I can’t be around people right now.”

“Lily, if there’s something Brian did-”

“Don’t be mad at him,” you found yourself saying. “It’s something between the two of us. We’ll handle it.” Your voice actually felt like it was disconnected from your body.

With that, the elevator doors opened and you broke free of Roger’s embrace. You entered the elevator and pressed the button that led to your floor and watched as the elevator doors closed on Roger and the party you thought would be the best night of your life.

Welcome to L fucking A.

#O O F #y'all #i don't know where this came from #writing it was literally just taking every negative feeling i've ever had and tossing it into this chapter lol #i hope you all enjoy reading it! #classic rock #classic rock fic #queen #queen fic #brian may #brian may fic #brian may x reader #my writing #i'll love her still

[shannygoatgruff]

Stay Safe, Stay Home Writing Challenge - (Call me if you need anything) @waiting4inspiration​

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Modern Ivar x OC

Warning: Language, sexual innuendo, insecurity

Rating: M

Chapter 2 || Chapter 4

Chapter 3

 “Biiiiiitch...” 

“Bitch,” Cash acknowledged.

“Bitch,” Glenn replied, stunned.

“Bitch, I know, right? What the fuck?”

“Bitch,” Glenn answered. 

“Bitch,” Cash responded in disbelief.

“And bitch he got brothers? Shit, tell him I’m cute, Puerto Rican and a bottom. What’s up?” Sitting up, Glenn ran his fingers through his mess of auburn curls.  

“Bitch, focus! This is not about you, right now.” She rolled her eyes at his smiling face. “I’m sitting here like, no fucking way. I’m being played for real.” Cash pulled her hoodie up over her head to hide her embarrassment. “Do you think he’s serious? That can’t be him. There’s no way fucking way that’s him.” She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a scream. “What the fuck am I doing here? I don’t meet some guy on the internet and hop across an ocean to meet him.”

“Bitch you are living your best life.” Glenn’s smile faded quickly as he looked at his best friend. It was time for her to get that serious BFF talking to that she so desperately needed. “You will meet him and either he looks like that or he doesn’t.”  God, I hope he does, he found himself thinking. He wanted so badly for his friend to end up with someone beautiful and special, just like her. “You already know you’re into this man. When you meet, if it’s him, see where it goes. Shit, you might even get a little. If it’s not him and you still like him – worst-case scenario, ya still might get you some.”

“What if it is him and I don’t like him?”

“Then give him my number, bitch. Oye, Papi..."

"Fuck you, bitch. I love you. Bye,” Cash said before hanging up the phone.   

She sat there for a few more minutes, debated calling Ivar back. After she stared and stared at those pictures, his smile, the one with him with no shirt...how happy he looked with his brothers, how could she not call him back? Holding her breath, she hit his name on her WhatsApp and listened to the chime in her ear.  

Ivar snatched his ringing phone from his brother’s hand and answered the call quickly. “Hello? Cash?”

“Hey. Did you get the pictures?” She closed her eyes dying to ask him what he thought. She wouldn’t do it though. This was going to be a fun vacation and she wasn’t going to have any expectations.  

Putting his earbuds back in his ears, Ivar scrolled back to the photos on his phone to look at her beautiful face and smiled. “I did. Thank you. You have a perfect smile.” He could swear he could hear her blushing through the phone. “I now have a face to go with the voice I dream about.”  

“Ja, hallo?” The man who opened the door was blond, with the soft round face and he was not Ivar. His voice was deeper and a bit stuffier. Judging from the photo she had seen earlier, Cash ventured a safe guess that this was Ivar’s older brother. “Ah…you must be Cash.” He leaned against the door jam, shoving potato chips in his mouth, grinning. 

He inspected her, not long enough to make it creepy or awkward, but he did take the customary 3 seconds that men need to size up a woman. In that short amount of time, Hvitserk approved.  

“Hi. Is Ivar here?” Cash wondered if he could hear her heart pounding in her voice. This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have come. Not on this trip, not to his hotel room. None of it. She should have stayed her ass at home. 

Hvitserk stood at the door, nodding and smirking. She was about as nervous as Ivar was. God, they were cute. He couldn't wait to call Ubbe and Bjorn about this. 

"Can I come in?" She asked unsure why he standing there grinning at her like that.

"Oh, sure. You can take a seat. I have to find him. I will let him know you have arrived." 

She had so many questions. The first being, why was Ivar’s brother there? Was she about to be a MISSING post on Facebook? Was Ivar’s brother the one pretending to be Ivar, even though they sounded nothing alike?  

She took a seat on the couch and waited while the other man stepped out on the balcony. She heard two distinct voices speaking in a different language. She recognized Ivar’s voice right away and her heart skipped a beat.

The cigarette in Ivar’s hand started to shake. What was she doing here? They never made plans on what time they would meet. He still needed time to prepare. He needed to have a few drinks first. “I am not ready to meet her now.” He cut his eyes to try to peek around Hvitserk. “I can’t.” Oh God, what if he forgot how to speak English? Or what if his legs just gave out on him from being nervous?  

And if Hvitserk didn’t wipe that shit-eating grin off of his face he was going to punch him in the throat.

“Well, brother, she’s here and she's pretty cute.” Hvitserk was enjoying the hell out of this. He was so glad he came on this trip. “What are you so afraid of?” Ivar gave his brother a knowing look, then gestured to his legs. “Oh shit. You didn’t tell her?” The giggle that bubbled up from Hvitserk’s throat escaped before he could reign it in. “Ivar!”

Ivar watched as Hvitserk walked away and told Cash that he’d be out in a minute. There was no getting out of it now. He took one last strong pull off of the Marlboro before snuffing out the lit tip. With a deep exhalation of breath, he got to his feet, grabbed his crutches and slowly made his way through the balcony doors.

When he came through the door, he’d had his head down and his long, brown hair framed his face. As he made his way over to her, he straightened up and flung his hair back giving her a good look at him. 

Did her face always hurt this much when she smiled? 

Ivar watched mesmerized as Cash tucked her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt not to smile. It didn’t work, not with a smile as beautiful and vibrant as hers. It was infectious. As soon as she smiled, he forgot that he was supposed to be embarrassed and he smiled, too.

Those eyes. What shade of blue are they? He has perfect teeth. Are Norwegians usually that tan?  The tight blue Henley shirt he wore did everything to make every muscle in his arms and chest stand out.

It felt like time was standing still.  Those cheekbones, and her lips…fawning chocolate eyes. Her coloring is like honey. That shade of yellow against her skin…and those long, delicate fingers. Oh, God.  

“Yup. Like two puppies. Standing in the middle of the room, staring at each other.” Hvitserk held his phone’s camera out to give a panoramic view. “They still haven’t said a word.” He switched the camera’s view back to himself and looked at his brothers' smiling faces. “He is finally going to get some ass,” Hvitserk said in his native language, laughing as he walked back into his bedroom.

“You’re so tall.” Her voice was as melodic as it was over the phone.

He was almost an entire foot taller than her. “Ja. You are just a little thing.” Ivar smiled shyly, looking down at Cash. There was the voice that she knew. She had drifted to sleep listening to him read to her or sing, so many times. She didn’t know when his voice became a comfort. “Is it okay to hug you?”  

He smelled like Dior Sauvage mixed with a hint of cigarettes. Cash closed her eyes against the warmth of his muscular chest and honestly didn’t want to let him go. She was half hoping he’d kiss her, but when she opened her eyes and looked up at him, he stepped back slightly and motioned toward the couch.  

“I know I just kinda barged in on you. But, there was no way I could take a nap…I was too nervous. I had to meet you in person. I had to know – you know? Part of me was wondering if you were honest about who you really were. I mean, men that look like you, don’t start online relationships with women in other countries. Then go to yet another country to actually meet them. Unless of course, they’re trying to get a Green Card or take all her money or something.” 

Ivar was amazed that she said all of that in one breath. He couldn’t quite understand everything she said, but he enjoyed watching her mouth move as she said it. “I cannot understand everything when you talk so fast.” Rubbing his thick hand across his chin, he kept looking toward the hallway, afraid that his older brother would come out of the room and embarrass him.  

“I’m sorry. I’m just really glad that you turned out to be you.”

“I am, too.” Hvitserk was going to come out of his room at any moment. Ivar could feel it. He was already nervous enough, he couldn’t take the chance of having Hvitserk ruin everything. They had to leave. “Do you maybe want to get some get some dinner now?” He was relieved when she agreed. He wanted time to properly talk to Cash and explain everything, but not with Hvitserk around. “Just give me a second and I will be ready.”

Cash watched him walk out of the room, noticing him limping on crutches, but she still found herself giggling like a schoolgirl. 

So this was Ivar? 

He was real and she was happy.

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[renaerys]

11. “You’re going to make it. Just stay awake.” (Butch/Buttercup)

{{Original posting unfortunately deleted. Reposted here.}}

February Fic Prompt #11 originally requested by Anon. Greens shenanigans and hella innuendo, just the way I like them.

xxx

Everybody knew that the best person to go on night patrol with was Boomer. The guy talked but not nearly as much as Bubbles, who could probably talk herself through an earthquake and never even notice. He wasn’t a micromanager like Blossom or a straight-up jerk like Brick. And he definitely was not even half as annoying as Butch could be.

“You ever wonder what the fuck is up with Monster Island?”

Butch sat next to Buttercup on the Millennium Tower, the tallest building in Townsville, with their feet dangling over the edge and the city lights at their feet. She narrowed her eyes at him. “No.”

He ignored her. “You know, ‘cause that place is what, three? Four square miles? And the monsters just keep coming.”

“What’s your point?” Buttercup said, not really caring. Her watch read a quarter past midnight. She should’ve been in bed an hour ago.

Butch suddenly leaned in close, and Buttercup leaned back away from him. He looked very serious, and that almost always meant he was about to say something mad dumb—

“Giant beast orgies.”

Buttercup groaned. It was going to be a long night.

“For real! They must be going at it 24/7 poppin’ out tentacle monsters and dino hybrids and flaming squirrels at the rate we fight ‘em. How does that even work? Like, are they all just fucking and it’s Baby Roulette to see what’s gonna come out?”

“Dude, gross. I don’t want to think about that shit.”

“Pssh, don’t lie.”

“I’m really not.”

“You’re not even a little bit curious about what kinda Stranger Things shit is going down right over the bay?” Butch pointed southwest toward Citiesville’s Golden Bay, where the aptly named Monster Island sat a few miles off the coast. “Like the Booger Monster we fought before the Reds fucked off to Snob College. How does that even work?”

He made a crude gesture with this fist and forefinger and then pantomimed picking his nose. Buttercup shoved him off the edge of the building.

“Cut it out, Butch. I said I don’t want to talk about that shit.” She grabbed the backpack he’d brought and pulled out a bag of chips. “Besides, there’s nothing to talk about. It’s just weird monster biology, end of story.”

Butch floated one hundred stories above the ground and grinned at her. “So you have wondered about it.”

“Clearly not as much as you, Horny Darwin.”

He threw back his head and laughed from his gut. Buttercup scowled and stuffed some chips in her mouth. The crunch helped her focus, but her eyes were drooping and her head felt a bit fuzzy.

“Hey, you okay?” Butch was no longer laughing as he hovered close and peered at Buttercup. “You look tired.”

Buttercup cast the chips aside. They weren’t really helping, and she wasn’t hungry, anyway. She ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair. “Yeah, I woke up at 4 a.m. today.”

“Why the hell would you wake up that early on a patrol night?”

“Because I wasn’t supposed to be patrolling tonight, you were.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

Not surprising. Butch tended to tune out shit that didn’t directly concern him, especially if it was coming from Blossom. She’d called Buttercup at four in the goddamned morning ranting about some giant hairball monster that had attacked Ivy University campus and how Brick had been so sleep deprived that they’d both nearly suffocated to death and she had to help him to bed and somehow all of this was now Buttercup’s problem because Blossom knew they were patrolling alone for only a few hours to get out of it but no one should be patrolling alone in case of giant hairballs attacking. Buttercup pointed out that the likelihood of another giant hairball attacking Townsville, which was clear across the country from Blossom and Brick’s college, was pretty low. Blossom told her to cut the attitude and make sure Butch didn’t patrol alone tonight. She did not have time to argue when she had to go convince the administration to change Brick’s finals schedule so he could actually get some sleep.

And since Boomer and Bubbles were currently out of town at a music festival until tomorrow, Buttercup had no choice but to be here tonight.

“Ugh, whatever. Did you bring any of those energy shots? I’m about to pass out,” Buttercup said.

Butch sat back down next to her and pulled his bag onto his lap. “You know that shit’s basically radioactive rat piss.”

“This from the guy who scarfed three bacon double cheeseburgers on the flight over here.”

He grinned wolfishly and flexed his bicep at her. “Hey, this hot bod doesn’t get by on yogurt and protein shakes alone. A man needs red meat.”

“A man needs less cholesterol in his diet if he wants to live past 40.”

“See, this is why it’d never work between us. Sorry doll, I gotta lead with my stomach.”

Buttercup snapped at that awful pet name he’d taken to calling her lately and swung around to punch him in the stomach. He caught her fist just as it made contact, absorbing the brunt of her force, and met her eyes. The son of a bitch was still grinning.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” she hissed. Her fist shook and sparked with green energy as she tried to finish her punch, but he held on.  

Halfway under her as she threw her weight behind her stalled punch, Butch’s smile relaxed into something softer but just as dangerous as he looked up at her through his messy bangs. “You kinda like it.”

Buttercup dug her knee into his thigh right over the femoral artery, and he shuddered. “Yeah, this is me liking it.”

She applied more pressure, and he gasped. His other hand grabbed her shoulder and threw her off him, but Buttercup rolled and landed on her hands and feet in a crouch. Butch matched her guerrilla stance and they faced off on top of the world with the stars at their backs and thunder in their veins.

“Still gonna pass out?” he asked.

“What?”

“You said you were about to pass out. Is this any better?”

Buttercup frowned. He’d provoked her on purpose to distract her from her sleepiness? That was almost…

He got up and stretched like a cat, and Buttercup couldn’t help but notice the subtle ridges of his abs when his dark shirt ran up for just a moment. Clearly he was excelling at that gym trainer job he’d been at full-time since they graduated high school.

Not that that mattered at all.

She got up and wiped her hands on her jeans. “A little, I guess. Still tired as shit though.”

Butch cracked his neck like he was getting ready to fight, but he wasn’t. For as long as she had known him, Buttercup had always been able to sense when he felt the urge, just as he could sense it in her. Primal, instinctual, not just a need but a desire to ruin and be ruined all for the manic joy of surviving it. She felt it less the older she got once her body stopped changing and growing, but every couple of months they would inevitably seek each other out for a row. Not even monsters could quite scratch that particular itch. If anything, they exacerbated it.

“Sweet. I got a few other ideas,” he said.

Buttercup crossed her arms. “You get ideas?”

“Ha ha, you bitch. I’m serious.”

She cracked a smile. “We’re on patrol.”

“Yeah, so let’s go patrol.”

“What’re you—”

He took off in a blaze of green, not flying but running down the side of the Millennium Tower, dodging balconies and flipping off the flagpole like some kind of insane Super gymnast. He didn’t lose momentum when he landed and took off running across the busy street toward the next building.

Buttercup was dashing after him before she could think twice about it, to hell with staying here by herself. She slid over the roofs of two cars crossing the street and leaped from balcony to balcony as she climbed the next building higher and higher. Butch had already made it to the top and paused to look back at her. His smiling challenge boiled her blood, and he took off sprinting again along the drain pipes. Buttercup flipped over the guard railing on the roof, sprinted to the other side, and leaped off the edge in a free fall.

The night wind whipped her loose hair, and she somersaulted to cushion her landing on the pedestrian sky bridge connecting this building to the next. Butch slid down the drain pipe and landed similarly a short ways ahead on the glass and metal bridge. They faced off, and she couldn’t help but grin fantastically at the sight of him winded and emanating green power, ready to run.

They didn’t speak, there was no need. He took off and she tore after him, each carving their own path leaping concrete chasms, rolling into their falls, and racing against gravity and mortality up the mirror-bright sides of skyscrapers. Buttercup cartwheeled through a narrow path between two huge AC generators and landed like a cat on the metal railing, where she spotted an enormous tower crane powered down for the night in the midst of a new construction project. It was tens of stories tall, and she wanted nothing more than to run up its mast.

Butch had the same idea and leaped like a monkey from the roof of the building next to hers and grabbed the jib. He hit it with the force of a Super, and the huge machinery whined and began to swing. Buttercup abandoned her original plan for one that would be a thousand times cooler. Moving fast, she raced along the thin railing and pedaled through her jump to get her across to the next building over. The crane groaned in protest as Butch sprinted along the length of the jib. She wouldn’t have much of a window.

With a running start, Buttercup scrambled up the wall of the roof access door and jumped high into the air just as the long, metal winch cord came swinging by. She grabbed it barely in the nick of time and went spinning.

Above, she searched for Butch and found that he wasn’t slowing his momentum even as he neared the end of the jib. Buttercup gave the winch cord a little extra boost of her power and went careening high into the air on an updraft just as Butch free-dived off the jib. The night air parted for her and the stars fell to meet her as she reached out, elated, and Butch reached back.

They joined hands at the wrists, and Buttercup moved with gravity and the momentum he’d brought with him before it could wrench her arm clean out of the socket. Together, they hurtled through the air, bounced off a radio tower pole, and landed in a two-man roll on a private rooftop golf course.

Butch was laughing when they came to a stop in a heap on the green, and Buttercup laughed with him. He had his arms around her as she hovered over him.

“That was,” he stammered, breathless.

“Amazing!” Buttercup said.

“Fucking incredible! Holy shit, when you ran for the winch cord—”

“I didn’t think I’d stick it for a second—”

“But you did and I swear I lost my goddamned mind—”

“You jumped! You fucking idiot, you’re lucky I was there to catch you.” Buttercup shoved him, but he only laughed again and held her waist tighter.

“Woman please, how could you ever resist the chance to catch this hot shit? I saw your face, you totally creamed yourself!”

“Fuck you, it was the moment and I wasn’t even looking at you!”

They could hardly breathe as they laughed, and gravity rolled them over. The grass was cool under Buttercup’s cheek, and above the stars were bright and close. Slowly, the moment subsided as they caught their breaths and watched each other through the gloom.

“I kinda knew you’d catch me,” Butch said.

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “I regret it already.”

“Sure you do.”

He was smiling, but there was no mocking or malice behind it. Strangely enough, Buttercup thought it suited him.

She pulled away before she could finish that dangerous train of thought, and he let her without making a big deal out of it. They sat up side by side and looked out over the city and the ocean beyond. Monster Island was dark, but the detection barrier surrounding it glowed a subtle blue in the starlight and city lights.

“Five and a half hours until sunrise,” Butch said, checking his watch.

Buttercup groaned. “That’s so long from now.”

He nudged her shoulder with his. “You’re gonna make it. Just stay awake.”

“Wow, genius plan.” She nudged him back.

“Hey, I got plenty more ideas where Super Parkour came from. Just say the word.”

Buttercup allowed herself a smile in the darkness. Butch could drive her crazy, but over the years she’d gotten used to his self-indulgent vulgarity. Sometimes she didn’t mind. Sometimes it was just kind of nice. Familiar. A pull she couldn’t explain or describe, except that she knew he felt it too, and he always knew exactly what she needed.

“In a few minutes,” Buttercup said, her eyes drooping a bit as sleep crept up on her little by little.

She could feel his warmth through her sleeve and his, close enough to touch, close enough.

“Yeah,” he said, and turned his gaze skyward. “Just a few more minutes.”

They had all night, after all.

#Butchercup #Greens #Butch #Buttercup #Powerpuff Girls #Powerpuff Girls fanfiction #PPG fic #PPG #February Fic Prompts #the more I write these two the more I adore them

[occasionalmagicandcurses]

its been about 10 years

But I’m back. I did therapy for a year and honestly all it got me was agitated. I remember the days of yore when I would sit on my tumblr home page, refreshing constantly and making new friends through whatever current horrible experience I could put to words in my life at the time. Whether it was the milso shit I was on (he was a cheater, and I was just a girlfriend), or the love for pokemon or anime, I always made a friend. I’m still friends with so many of them to this day. I’d skip whatever homework I had to do and meticulously pick at the code for my theme, calling to the days even further back of myspace and (dare I say it...) xanga. I learned about my internet etiquette through here. I paid way too much attention to the rules and regulations, even dipping my toes in some internet drama. I was an early witness to the birth of “cancel culture.” It was here that I developed my dreams and material aspirations for the future.

And 10 years has flown by. I’ve got two degrees, a staggering amount of debt, a few more earth shattering relationships, and 1 cross country move to show for it.

They say that no matter where you go, you are there. Whoever they are, they’re right. And it is draining to have to carry myself around everywhere. I can never seem to be completely upright. My anxiety says “gnaw on your fingers until they bleed” or “buy one more pair of shoes” or “shake your leg until even your dog looks at you funny” in an attempt to mitigate some of the pressure in my jaw. My depression follows up with the gambit of “you have no self control” or “no one will want you” or “just hold off on eating, it’s not going to do anything for you.”

I turned 30 years old 3 weeks. Feels the same as 29, except now 40 is 10 years around the corner, instead of 11. None the less terrifying or grim. I have an awful spending problem, undoubtedly an overcorrection from my poverty-stricken childhood. Ever seen cheese that doesn’t melt? I learned how to count from the monopoly money-esque appearance of food stamps. My mom would make it a game. I found it fun until we started having to leave baskets of food at the register because something was wrong. 

Trauma, its delicious, I swear. We bounced from home to home, changing schools by the semester and allowing my brain to continue to develop on its fucked up axis. I struggled to make friends and struggled even harder to want to try. I knew it would all blow up anyway. I told the most elaborate lies to hide my home life. I’d say my grandmother was a doctor, and I’d hide that I couldn’t afford breakfast at school by saying I was trying to lose weight, or not have a full stomach for band practice later in the day. 

I got on the overcompensation train pretty early. I finally got tired of my mom’s repetitive failures and walked out of the door at 17. I never lived with my mom again. I never want to be like her. To be 53 and living paycheck to paycheck with two kids I never wanted and still can’t parent correctly? Count me out. 

I burned through college and graduate school. I have a career I am pretty kickass at. I love what I do. 

I decided to change directions (and time zones) about 3 months ago. When I say I was bored, I was b o r e d. Professionally, I felt stuck. I had a job I was good at, but didn’t want to move up in. It was lacking the spark that made me love my field to begin with. I was living in a city I’d been in for the past 20 years. I was a year past the breakup from a relationship that literally and mentally broke me in two. Absolutely devastated me. I sometimes cry for that life on occasion. It was pure misery and happiness that I don’t think I’ll ever experience again. I still feel I’m not worthy of one or the other. There’s always a price. Both, or it isn’t real. Comparison (and infidelity) were the thieves there. My unbridled anger too.

I packed up my car and my dogs and took the mom that told me she would have had a great military career if it weren’t for me and drove halfway across the country. I flew her back home a week later, and not a minute sooner. Being in close quarters with her always stews a rage that turns me into not the daughter that’s pushed for 25 years for her to be a mom, but the daughter that hates the mother she never had. I drove the entire trip and never really could quantify why I wanted her to come, except to say it might have been a latch ditch effort of the little girl that wanted a parent. I could have done it by myself, and I probably should have. 

Getting away has been amazing. I haven’t worked in almost a month and this was the break I didn’t know I needed. I saved up some, but obviously not enough, and now I get to pay the piper in a few weeks. I’m doing stupid things like riding my tax refund and the bonus for the job that I over performed at for 3 years to pull me through. I already got another job but good lord the background check has been sucking the life out of me. I am not a murderer, but I guess they need to figure that out for themselves. I’m slightly nervous for this job. My family and friends think I’m working now, but I am enjoying doing whatever the fuck I want. I blew off the job I got that motivated me to come out here because of the lack of money and transparency. 

Then I made the absolute mistake of swiping on tinder. I’m not sure what I get out of doing it, aside from fleeting attention from guys who like to talk about their sex drive, but I did it anyway. I’m not ready for a relationship, and I know it. So I’m forcing it with this guy who works too much and looks 10 years older than he actually is because of it. He smells nice though. I sold him to my gf’s as “he’s great!” and he is. Just not for me. I’ve only had sex with him once because I’m honestly not all that attracted to him. His fingers are chubby, but he’s not fat. I don’t like how he touches me, and I wish he was more dominant. Not in a “smack me around” type of way, but a “hey I wanna do this thing and I’m gonna show you and not really leave it to discussion” kinda way. He could make a great friend, so I’m probably going to go ahead and nip that sooner rather than later.

I think I want attention, but I don’t. I honestly just want to mind my business and start the process of fixing all of my fucking problems. And actually finish. 

#30something #life #help #thoughts #broke #failure #starting #fresh start #new start #thirty years old #thirty #aging #time #california #texas #success #fail #new #trying again #depression #anxiety

[mediapuppy]

Gosh it’s so flattering that people want to know more about me!  Now you wouldn’t expected these to be loaded questions, but let me preface this by saying that I’m an absolute mess when it comes to college.  I do nothing normally.  Sleep is nonexistent.  My advisors are going to stab me in my sleep. Come with me while I take you on the wild, dysfunctional rollercoaster that is Media’s College Misadventures™

Now I like a lot of things in an abstract sort of way.  I love cooking and baking.  I used to do a lot of overseas work with genetics and animals.  I’ve always been fascinated by the brain in the sort of vague way most people are. But this doesn’t sell, so I went into my freshman year an Economics/CS major as prep work to take over the family business!    Please for the love of god don’t follow in my footsteps but I spent the last two years of high school running with a dangerously fun crew whose blood was 80% vodka and 20% bad decisions and we all somehow got into our top universities.  Out of sheer notgivingafuckness I put all the top universities I got into in a hat and just picked one.  The next morning I woke up with no recollection of the previous day and a thank-you email from the college I apparently accepted.  I was very drunk, yet I regret nothing. This college decided the best course of action would be to send me to Ireland for my first year where I immediately proceeded to make friends with all my professors and go drinking with them after class every day.  They showed me pizza clubs and these really fancy underground bars for the Irish elite, I think one of my best memories was going to a gay bar in the back alleys of southside Dublin with my economic perspectives prof then drunk stumbling over to this game shop at 2AM to learn to play magic with these very confused guys that readily accepted us as their new best friends. I learned absolutely nothing.  If you’re wondering just how much of a mess I was the dean of the entire fucking university knew me as the girl that was always asleep on the floor between classes with this dude who looked like the human version of Animal from The Muppets guarding my stuff.  The dean would go to this chocolatiers place across the street and get a few chocolate treats with his morning coffee to put in my hungover, asleep fish hand for when I woke up.  That man was a goddamn delight and I still talk to him to this day. A lot of things happened in Ireland that I will happily tell ya’ll if you want!  Just as an overview during these few months we also: got tazed repeatedly because we lived in gang territory (thanks uni for putting us there!!), watched our friend get kidnapped overnight from our favorite club (he was fine), got the entire country of America banned from several bars on our street, got accepted by the gang that terrorized us for the first two months, watched as on Halloween our entire apartment building got set on fire by said gang and we just went outside to drink beer with them while our advisor was having a nervous breakdown, and many, many bad decisions on my part.   After a few months we all got shipped back to the actual campus back in the states where things all went downhill.  My advisor straight up quit in my first week and I never got reassigned so I was just this poor tiny freshman stuck in upper-level classes with very confused and sympathetic seniors.  Halfway into the second semester one of my profs, the head of the whole econ department, started hitting on me.  If you’ve ever had the wonderful experience of being A Female In College ™ you know the type.  The ones that lean in a little too close, smile a little too wide when they see you.  So I said hell no and switched out of the major before the semester had even ended Into my second year, I was just taking classes aimlessly for a while picking new majors every few weeks while my advisors prayed for my demise.  I dabbled in psychology and sociology until I realized it was just memorizing terminology (but I made a friend in intro and together we both completed a minor in it just to hang out).  There was a very short-lived stint in biology for a while.  I dipped my fingers into Neuroscience for as long as they’d tolerate me.  Mathematics wasn’t too interesting without a double.  I ended up joining a lot of clubs and my main one was an engineering club (my uni is engineering-focused, rip me) but none of the facets of engineering interested me. Following from my long laundry list of good decisions I decided to just start befriending more professors and to aimlessly take their classes instead.  Long story short I accidentally completed a full B.S. in Philosophy of Science my sophomore year after overloading courses and being bored as all hell so a friend of mine, one of the top profs in the department, asked me to take his new upper-level quantum course so I said yes if he’d wave the prereqs and oop it turned out to be a senior thesis course and then I was all done with that major. I hadn’t made university hours so the beginning of my third year I was just taking mathematics and a few other courses while my advisors breathed down my neck ready to murder me.  They wanted me gone so bad, man, ya’ll have no idea.  I’m not even mentioning all the times I raised absolute hell on campus we just focusing on my major-based misadventures right now. Okay, so part of my university is something called co-op: a mandatory work experience period where students take semesters off at a time to do paid work in the field of their choice.  I hadn’t really any set majors at the time except for whatever bullshit showed up on my degree audit so I started searching for my 4-6 month co-op just to get it out of the way. Unfortunately for everybody involved, I interview extremely well and look good on paper.  I look damn good in a suit too and like to entertain when they’re supposed to be grilling me, so nobody stood a chance. I applied to the most ridiculous jobs I could find.  I was not qualified for any of it.  I got accepted to 90% of what I applied to. Out of notgivingafuckness pt2 I decided to give myself to the highest bidder which is how I ended up working for a defense contracting company that liked my coding background and how I just kinda roll with whatever’s going on.  So on the cusp of the covid pandemic I was working in security and dispatch for a major city hall that controlled the police department, fire, sanitation, everything under the sun.   I was so bad at my job, but I was enjoying it and that was everybody else’s problem.  When covid really started up and they let me go with 6 months full pay I immediately switched into PoliSci/Cyber and that’s where I am now, in my 4th year!   So to answer your question: my major is a mystery to everyone including me, but it’s something like PhilSci/PoliSci/Cyber and I’m taking 6 classes and I am dying fams.  My college experience is not and will never be normal, and I’ve still got masters/phd to go.  I’ve got a ton of great friends who constantly worry for my wellbeing because I do crazy shit and I am currently taking on the daunting challenge of befriending profs over zoom, who are only half into it. Don’t be me, but go out there and have fun!  College doesn’t have to be all about studying, and while now I’m taking too many classes to do much of anything else in my first few years I joined a ton of clubs and experienced all I could, so just get out there and do your best!

#media answers #my college life is a mess don't come for me please #i'll figure it out eventually I swear #media's college misadventures