#one of those people who proclaim that they’re your best friend to all the other kids as a joke

[floweyyyyyy]

autistic culture is not realizing you were bullied in elementary school until now

#there was this one girl who was a bitch in a passive agressive way #and she would occasionally be really mean and i’d be like oh so she’s mean okay #(and her assigned seat on the bus we both rode everyday was right behind me right) #but then she would be nice and i’d go oh she’s nice now #but she always made sure to do it when other people could see #she complimented my clothes once and i was not sure if it was genuine or not (spoilers it was not) #and then first day of sixth grade i was walking home and she was walking home in a different direction and we crossed paths #and she was still nice in a #i don’t really mean it way #i saw her almost everyday my entire fifth grade and she was so confusing #one of those people who proclaim that they’re your best friend to all the other kids as a joke #i bet if i found her tiktok now i’d find one of those i look mean now but she was evil videos #and this is only one story. i have more.

[em1e]

万次郎 // GIVEN THE CHOICE ⠀ ༝ ༝ bonten!mikey ⠀ ༝ ༝ 8.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ big brother!draken, mentions of violence, character death, manga spoilers, pregnancy, angst, suggestive?, implied fem!reader but no pronouns. ⠀ — you've always liked mikey growing up. how do you tell him years down the line that you've had his kid?

there’s not much to say about being the younger sibling to draken. 

even less about his delinquent friends he seemed to follow around like a puppy. 

but you could say a lot about his friend mikey. self-proclaimed leader at the age of eleven, you watched from the sidelines as he became the true leader of his silly group toman, saw how it’d develop to something more as you grow older. 

and as the years pass, you become more acquainted with those same people he’s always around - namely one baji keisuke, who made it very apparent from the start he wanted to be your friend because ‘only cool guys have a weak best friend’ and apparently no one else in toman was weak. 

days turn to weeks turn to years with you in their shadow, but you’ve never seemed to mind. 

you enjoy your view from the sidelines. 

“you can’t tell anyone.” you warn baji with a finger pointed in his direction, eyes narrowed as if that could somehow make your threat more lethal. 

he holds his hands up in mock-defense, taking a step away with his shoulders slouched, “you have my word.” 

you look away from him, arms crossing over your chest as you answer. 

“sorry?” he tilts his head, leaning forward, “didn’t quite catch that.” 

you feel yourself flush, hiding your face to mumble the reply, “mikey.” 

there’s a beat of silence for all of five seconds before he starts laughing. 

“you have a crush on mikey? of all people?” 

you shove him away from you when he leans against you for support, yet still manage to press your hand against his mouth because he’s so fucking loud, “quiet down,” you hiss out, “they’re supposed to be ‘round the corner, will you shut up?!” 

“just think it’s funny how you ‘nd your brother have a thing for each of the sano siblings-”

“quiet!” 

draken and mikey stumble upon you with a fist full of baji’s hair, the other hand pressed firmly against his mouth while he has his own shoving at your face to keep you away. 

and that’s just how most days go - when they aren’t terrorizing the city, they’re bothering you for one reason or another. 

until it isn’t. 

until kazutora gets released from juvie and baji leaves you in the dust and then dies after. . . it’s a lot to take in, especially for someone so young - so close to someone who suddenly drops it on you that they want nothing to do with you, and then you hear during the aftermath from your brother that he was begging for you to forgive him, for you to take care of mikey, too, because someone has to. 

until draken finds you curled in on yourself sobbing because even to the end, baji put other people above himself and it’s so fucking unfair that that’s how he meets his demise. 

you stay in your room for a week without moving. it takes draken practically dragging you out of the space to get you into the world again, mikey at his side with a frown. 

and maybe it’s from the mutual trauma of losing someone so close to you (despite it being a thousand times worse for mikey, since he was actively there at the scene), but you and mikey grow closer after baji’s death. 

you make sure one another eats, that you’ve done your assignments on time, that you’re getting enough sleep, that you’re taking care of yourselves. 

it stays like that for a while, you tucked behind mikey and draken like a secret, something no one else can touch or bother with emma at your side. 

and then she dies, too. 

her death was the breaking point for them, you think. 

unexpected and quick and cruel that mikey had to watch her pass, the tensions eating away at them and bursting at the seams from the announcement of her death. when draken came back home with busted knuckles and tear-stained cheeks, it broke you because your big brother was supposed to be the strong one. a piece of you chipped away when he crumbled in your embrace, sobs wrecking through his body while you held him close. 

the funeral isn’t any better, tensions still high, and draken steps away at the end when you move to talk to mikey. 

you promise to check in on him when you can, pull him into a hug while offering your condolences, and when you separate he doesn’t look at you as he says his thanks. 

when you make your way to draken, you will yourself to glance back at mikey and . . . he looks so small, standing beside his grandpa. unfocused on the people that come up, shake his hand with frowns, then leave. as if feeling your stare on him, he looks up to meet your gaze, and with such a small glance, you can see how heavily everything’s weighed down on him. how cruel the world has been to him, and how it remains unrelenting of punches. 

he looks away before you do, and draken pulling you close to him by the shoulder to keep you from walking into someone draws your attention away from mikey. 

weeks turn to months, passing without a hitch, and you do your best to check in on mikey when you can. some days you visit and his grandpa answers the door, turning you away because mikey’s out and he doesn’t know where he is - most days your texts and calls go unanswered. 

ken later informs you toman’s disbanded and he isn’t sure what to do with himself. despite your best efforts, getting in contact with mikey becomes harder and harder, until it becomes an impossible feat altogether. 

years pass with no contact - with everyone lives moving forward, with your brother owning his own bike shop and inupi coming to work with him, and you getting an insane job offer for your dream position. it’s crazy amazing for someone your age to see an opportunity like this, and you’re elated beyond belief by the proposition, except . . . it’s on the other side of japan. 

you’d have to leave everything you’ve ever known for the chance of a lifetime, and it’s your brother who encourages you to take it. 

“who knows if something like this could happen again,” he says with a smile, ruffling your hair in a way that big brothers do, “you’ll always have a home here to come to if things don’t pan out.” 

you see everyone you can in the weeks before you leave, even manage to pin down mitsuya for coffee before he leaves for another exciting runway event in italy (you tease how you wish you’d be going there instead - he offers an invite once you’re settled in your new apartment). 

the only person you couldn’t pinpoint a location for was . . . mikey. 

despite your many calls to the old number you have stored in your phone, searching for him at his old childhood home, even asking draken and the other friends from his old gang - no one knew. you amaze yourself with your own detective skills, though, by some miracle able to find an address - you applaud yourself as you step to the door, double checking the apartment number matches what you have written down before you knock. 

there’s a moment where you stand dumbly waiting for someone to open the door, and you think for a second maybe you have the wrong apartment, or maybe he’s not home, or -

there’s a click of the lock sounding, the door creaking open just enough for you to see the darkness inside. 

you brighten when mikey peeks his head around the door, leaning against the frame and just . . . staring, expression unreadable. 

“hi . . .” you breath out, “’ve been lookin’ for you.” 

“that spells trouble.” he says without missing a beat, looking down both ends of the hall before he pushes the door open further. an invitation to enter, one you take gratefully. 

“for who?” you can’t help but tease, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you spin to face him closing the door, “me? or you?” 

“depends on how this goes.” he shrugs, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. 

you don't take his words as the threat they are, smile still as bright as when he first pulled open the door, “how have you been? it’s been a while.” 

“‘ve been better,” he looks away from you, “definitely been worse.” 

“wellll, “ you spin on your heel to get a look at his apartment, reaching for the wall where the lightswitch sits and flipping them on, “what have you been up to? s’nice apartment, even better with the lights on.” you chastise lightly, making yourself at home somewhere you surely could never consider it to be. 

when you turn back to face him, he’s already behind you, hand on your wrist, still touching the switch. 

“what do you want, (y/n)?” he asks. your gaze softens on him, now able to take in the light bags under his eyes, the way his frame is smaller than you remember. 

“to talk,” you answer gingerly, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “to see you and know you’re not dead in a ditch in roppongi.”

“you can clearly see i’m not, s’there more?, ” the words leave his lips bitterly, contrasting how his eyes flutter closed, how he leans into your touch. 

“‘m moving pretty far,” you add after a moment of silence, “otherside of japan. just wanted to see you’re okay before i leave.” your thumb rubs gentle circles into his cheek, head tilting when his eyes snap open at the admission. 

“what for?” he pries, and the way he asks reminds you of when you were kids; when he’d beg and beg and beg to play with the toy you were already playing with if only for the fact that you were playing with it, how he’d whine and pout until you relented because you couldn’t stand the idea of him being upset with you. 

“a job,” you’re completely transparent as you answer, “‘the opportunity of a lifetime’. it felt . . . i dunno, wrong? to not share the good news with you-mph?” 

you're silenced by him suddenly pulling you to him, lips pressed to your own with his hands cupping your cheeks, and truth be told it’s everything fourteen-year-old you dreamed of and more. everything you ever wanted in life kissing you in his apartment before you go miles and miles away to start a completely different dream and it hurts. 

but you don’t have it in you to push him away, not when he presses you against the wall to deepen the kiss, or when he pulls your clothes off of you with a desperation that leaves you whining and begging, or when he guides you to his bedroom and continues his affection that holds the passion and emotion that’d been buried under fifteen years of dirt. he brings out each skeleton from the closet with every thrust until the both of you are spent, laying naked in each other’s embrace until you fall asleep. 

it’s surprising, almost, to wake up the next morning alone in a bed that isn’t yours. 

there’s no sign of mikey when you look around the apartment, the only tell of him even staying in the form of a stack of cash with a note in his familiar handwriting left on the kitchen counter. 

hope this helps you get started in the new city. - mikey 

a number sits in a smaller font under the note, in even smaller writing it says for emergencies, use this number. 

it feels weird, taking the money with no way to show your appreciation, so you rip a small corner from the paper and write your thanks out, the promise of visiting him soon when you’re back in town added with a heart at the end of your note. 

two days later, and you’re driving to a new city with your entire life packed in suitcases and boxes - a moving truck scheduled to deliver your belongings a day after you get to your apartment. 

almost two months pass, and you find you’re settling well; everyone at the company adores you, and the building your apartment’s in sits across from a nice ramen shop that you like to go to every tuesday night after you get paid. 

you come down with a stomach bug, one you can’t seem to shake, and after a week of calling out and forcing yourself to work despite being exhausted and crabby and ill, you go to the doctor. 

imagine your surprise when he tells you you’re fucking pregnant. 

two months, in fact, proven with the sonogram he sets you up with, and you’re calling your brother in hysterics in your car when the appointment is over. 

“pregnant?” he repeats over the phone, after taking the first five minutes of the call just trying to calm you down, “by who?” 

you’re chewing your lip raw as you answer, “mikey . . .” 

there’s a beat of silence, before you’re whispering out, “‘m scared, ken. i-i’m miles from home and-and i just started this job and i don’t even know if i can take care of a baby on my own-” 

“you’re gonna keep it?” he asks, tone genuine. 

“i . . . yeah, i think so - i-i mean, i want to . . . is that stupid? is that a stupid want for me to have?” your lip wobbles waiting for his answer. 

“no, but . . . s’lot of work, (y/n). if it’s something you do want, you know i’ll support you in any way i can, you just gotta tell me how to help.” 

“i wan’a come home.” you settle, and the way the words leave your lips remind you of a child, begging a parent for something so small when this is anything but. 

“we can do that,” draken promises, “i’ll get a flight and help you pack or get inupi to ride with me. we’ll figure it all out, don’t stress.” 

you sniffle, wiping at your face hastily, “kay . . . okay. thank you ken.” 

“f’course,” you can hear the smile in his voice over the phone, “s’what big brother’s are for.” 

and the next few weeks are filled with moving your life back home, with the help of draken and inupi. the people at your job are nothing but happy at the news for you, despite being sad to see you go - they wish you the best in life, though, and even offer another position to apply if you ever decide to come back to the area. it’s sweet, really. 

you move into draken’s house and have a healthy baby boy that looks so much like mikey, you think it might kill you. you name him shin. 

he makes you promise to not try to seek out mikey one night, after you’d rocked shin to sleep and put him down in his crib. 

“no one knows what he’s been up to,” he argues quietly when your brows furrow at the demand, “and frankly, the few ties i still have with gangs make me worried from what little things they tell me.” 

“but those could just be rumors,” you frown, “he deserves to know he has a kid.” 

“it’s dangerous, (y/n).” draken settles with the finality of a parent telling their kid they can’t have another cookie, “‘m serious. don’t try to contact him.” 

despite the weight the conversation holds, you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him childishly. something he returns, only to narrowly dodge the stuffed animal you throw his way in opposition. 

and though the warnings loom in the air, you can’t help but try to let mikey know - calling the number he left countless times, trying to use your rusty detective skills that aided you in finding him almost a year ago, just trying to make him aware that you had his son. 

you don’t seek child support, or demand otherworldly things that a parent could only dream of (a rocking chair that massages your back and automatically rocks? you drool at the thought), you just feel it’s something he deserves to know. something he should be given a choice to be a part of. 

except he’s known since you moved back. 

it was a difficult task, keeping tabs on you when you were so far away, but he knew from the day you settled into draken’s home by word of mouth from koko. it must’ve been a punishment for koko, to check in on all of their friend’s from their pasts, to make sure their lives are going how they want them to and make sure everyone is happy. 

mikey couldn’t stomach the photos koko would offer, waving them away and requesting the verbal update instead, and when your son is born, he’s only informed that there’s no father on the birth certificate. your attempts to contact him died in vein, the number he gave you belonging to an old throw away phone he got rid of a week after he left it with you. he didn’t think you’d ever need it. 

three years pass, and koko would be damned to say the kid doesn't look like a photocopy of mikey. wild blond hair, all bright eyed and sweet. 

you work at a diner now, usually leave shin with draken and inupi for your nightshift and ken takes him home when he’s done at the garage. 

it’s cute, the way they interact with him - they let him get in the way of their work, careful so he doesn’t get hurt, but allow his curiosity and grubby hands grab hold of tools and bolts and pieces they need. 

you're not overly fond of letting shin have his way with whatever he can pinch between his fingers, since usually whatever he does find ends up in his mouth like a chew toy, but ken and inupi tease you for being too overprotective. 

you still live with ken, despite insisting the need to get out of his hair, but he promises it’s okay to take your time since he adores his nephew and doesn’t mind helping, and inupi’s became a good friend by proxy. 

it’s rare for you and your brother to argue, especially in front of shin, and truly you’re not sure what sparked the conversation in the first place - all you know is you’re upset. 

“inupi, tell my brother it’s unfair for mikey to not know he has a kid.” 

“inui, tell my sibling if mikey wanted to be involved, he would be. simple as that.” 

“we don’t even know if he knows,” you groan out, leaving inupi to hold up his hands defensively. 

“i have no argument in this.” is all he offers. 

“but you have some insight, “ you counter, kneeling down when shin tugs on your pants, “you know the story-” 

“i’m just sayin’ you’ve tried for three years-” draken starts.

“four.” 

“-four years, “ he continues, “and you’ve gotten nothing. i don’t see a need for you to continue if you’ve come up empty handed for so long.” 

“because, ken-” 

shin’s lip wobbles for a second before he bursts into tears, gripping the front of your shirt until you’re shushing him and pulling you towards him in a hug, “shhh, baby, it’s okay. what’s wrong?” 

he continues to cry despite you rocking him, and it takes draken pulling him out of your arms while tickling his sides to make him stop. 

“prob’ly didn’t like the arguing.” inupi comments, dodging a wrench you throw his way with a glare. 

“we’ll talk about this later,” you sigh out, standing on your toes to squeeze shin’s cheeks, “i love, love, love you.” you emphasize each ‘love’ with a kiss to his chubby cheeks, happy to hear his crying replaced with giggles and incoherent toddler babble. 

your shift at work isn’t anything special - you have some regulars that come in at the odd hours of night, and by the end of your shift, you’re the last to leave; finishing out some paperwork the managers can’t be bothered to do despite getting paid far less than them to do it. 

you fish your keys from your bag, unlock your car, ready to begin the short drive home but . . . your car won’t start. 

of course it doesn’t. it’s an older model, one you were supposed to take to the scrap yard for a slightly newer model last month but couldn’t because shin unexpectedly got sick and you had to fork out some cash to make sure he got better. 

you sigh, pop the hood of the vehicle as if maybe some of your brother’s knowledge of mechanics could somehow transfer to you, and call the aforementioned male. 

it rings. . . and rings . . and rings. no answer. 

you try again. 

nothing. 

you kick at the front bumper in frustration, running a hand over your face in search of another contact. surely inupi is awake at two in the morning, right? 

the call rings out, and you’re really worried it’s going straight to voicemail for a second, but he picks up on seemingly the last buzz, “hello?” he sounds groggy, like you did just wake him up. you don’t have time to dwell on the thought when a group of guys appear from the sidewalk, spotting and attempting to talk to you in one breath. 

“car won’t start?” one asks, nudging his friend as they make their way closer to you, “we can help.” 

you turn away from them, “hey inui, can you come get me from work? ken didn’t answer and my car won’t start.” 

“hey.” the guys are much closer now, one stepping around to the front of the car while the other two stand off to your right, vying for your attention. 

“yeah f’course. there other people around you?” there’s some shuffling from inupi’s end, like he’s getting out of bed. 

“yeah. um, how long till you can be here?” 

“ten? minutes maybe.” you swallow at the answer. 

“great, i’ll see you in five.” 

you pull the phone from your ear slightly, turning back to face the two guys to your right, “i don’t need any help, i have a friend on the way-” 

there’s only a moment between you dismissing their assistance before the guy who was at the front of your car is shoving at your shoulder and pinning you to the side of your car, one hand pressed firmly to your mouth while the other squeezes your wrist until your phone falls from your hand and kicks it away. 

you shove a hand at his face, trying to reach into your bag for your taser or pocket knife or a really sharp pencil when the guy moves his hand from your mouth to your throat, squeezing hard enough you’re sure it’ll bruise, while tearing your bag from your shoulder and throwing it to sit with your phone. 

the smell of alcohol comes off of him in waves when he grins, leaning down to get a good look at you, “we can ‘elp ya,” he offers, “but not for free.” 

your nails bite into the skin of his wrist, the need to breath overtaking every other sense desperately while you continue to kick and claw at him.

his grip only relents at the sound of a motorcycle idling in the parking lot, but the pressure of his hand still keeps you in place by the throat, head turning to address who could see fit to interrupt this ‘exchange’. the man on the bike adjusts the mask on his face, tucks his long platinum hair to the side, seeming to ignore the eyes on him. 

“diner’s closed,” one of the other guys says, stepping towards the stranger, “and we’re kinda busy here ourselves-” 

he doesn’t get the chance to really say what they’re doing when the guy steps off the bike and just swings. 

his fist meets the guy's cheek with a harsh thwack while mumbling, “shouldn’t touch shit that doesn’t belong to you.” 

the guy holding you up releases his grip completely, leaving you to drop to the ground when your legs buckle under your weight, frozen and left only watching as the two remaining men are taken down easily by your potential savior. 

when the three stay unmoving on the ground, he crouches in front of you, adjusting the mask on his face once again while taking in your shaken form. 

“you okay?” you don’t trust your voice, so you only nod, “is someone on the way to get you? or d’ya need a ride?” 

you nod again, “i-inui’s coming.” you manage to whisper out, unable to catch the way his eyes widen slightly as he stands to his full height. 

he begins to walk away, back to his motorcycle that’s still running, but his steps hesitate when you call out, “is that you, koko?” 

he doesn’t turn to face you, doesn’t address if you’re correct in your assumption, “don’t worry ‘bout all this,” he says instead, “i’ll take care of it.” 

and then he’s climbing onto his bike, pulling out of the parking lot less than a minute before inupi’s pulling into it. 

you’re still on the ground when he rushes towards you to see if you’re okay, stepping over the unconscious bodies with little regard. you recount what happened, which inupi dismisses since he remained on the phone until he pulled into the parking lot. 

“do . . . was it really koko?” he asks, helping you up from the cement and gathering the items that spilled from your bag, offering your now cracked phone to you with a frown. 

“i’m not sure . . . i never really knew him like you did, “ you reach into your car to grab the important belongings and shove them in your bag, “it didn’t look like him but . . . it sounded like him. was his eyes, i think.” 

inupi looks away at this, “so what do you wanna do? ‘bout these guys?” 

you swallow, keeping your stare away from the three on the floor, “he said he'd take care of it and i don’t . . . i just wanna go home.”

“okay,” inui’s hand finds it place at the small of your back, guiding you gently to his bike and helping you on, “i’ll take you home.” 

when inupi walks you through the foyer, draken’s in front of you the second the door falls shut. 

you can see his worry in the crease of his brow, from the way he grabs your shoulders to give you a once-over and frowning at the way your neck seems to be irritated beyond belief, “are you okay? i-i had to put shin back to bed because he woke up ‘nd i didn’t have my phone on me but when tried calling back but you didn’t answer.” 

“‘m okay . . .” you assure, peeling yourself away from him, “gonna go shower . . um, inui can tell you what happened.” 

your voice is so small as you speak, ken can only nod and watch you disappear into the hall before he turns to inui, who delves into the story based on what he heard over the phone and what you told him when he arrived.

you scrub your skin raw in the shower, until it almost stings from how harsh you rub. you slip out of the bathroom quietly after, sneak your way into shin’s nursery and sit by his bed for just a second to decompress, rubbing the boys back softly while he sleeps. 

the peace is disrupted by ken peeking his head around the door, “c’mon, we gotta talk ‘bout it.” 

you almost pout, childlike, “do we have to?”

the look he gives you offers no leeway to argue, so you sigh and press a kiss to shin’s hair before standing, deciding now isn’t the time to start an argument. 

inupi’s gone when you come out to the living room, tucking your legs under yourself as you sit on the couch with ken beside you. 

you feel like a child they way you explain what happened, unable to look at him as you speak. ken visibly stiffens at the mention of the potential koko coming to your aid, interrupting you mid story to remind you, “you know it doesn’t matter that he helped you, right. you’re not gonna go out lookin’ for him or mikey or whoever else.” 

you frown at his words, opening your mouth to argue but he shakes his head before you can, “no, (y/n), ‘m serious. it’s too dangerous.”

you look down, defeated, but nod your head, “okay . . . fine.”

and really, you had full intention to abide by the warning. but . . . your boss called you the next day, said something about the diner being closed for the next few days because of something you couldn’t be bothered to remember and that you’d still be paid for the lost hours. 

the details don’t matter, really. you drop shin off with draken as usual, avoid mentioning the fact that you have the day off, and leave with the intent to use the next free hours just . . . looking. for koko or mikey or anyone who might know anything about either of them. 

it’s stupid, you think, to search and pry so openly, bouncing from bars and clubs asking anyone who’ll listen, but within three hours, you’ve gathered the following; 

mikey runs some big name gang. baton? batten? something. 

he has some executives that help run his gang, some of which own a few of the clubs in the shiftier parts of the city – haitani’s? you think they’re called?

the haitani’s are close to koko, who’s close to mikey, and really that’s the only thing you need. 

so you continue going from club to club, under the impression that apparently the haitani’s frequent their own clubs just about every night. you hear about a nicer club towards the edge of the city, one they favor to the other’s since the liquor is stronger and the girls are prettier – but these are all things you’ve heard from other people, so who knows how true it really is.

when you make it to the club, you wonder if your sundress is something considered to be ‘underdressed’. surely the juice stain on the front isn’t working in your favor as the bouncer gives you a once-over. 

“yer lookin’ for who, now?” he asks, one brow raised with his arms crossed over his chest. 

if you had any sense in you, you’d probably be scared of the way he eyes you down, but growing up around idiots who don’t know when to stop messing around has really ruined your fight or flight response. 

“the haitani brothers..” you reply, mocking the way he crosses his arms over his chest, “i heard they sometimes come by here, i thought maybe-” 

“you thought, huh?” his eyes rake over your form, and your arms shift protectively around yourself instead of mocking him, “well i think you should get outta here ‘fore you get hurt.” 

“i just need to know if they’re here-” 

he turns away from you with a hand pressed to the earpiece sitting in his ear, looking into the building before he turns to face you again with a squinted glare, “you sure they’re the right one? yeah. yeah. right. i’ll send ‘em up.” 

he gestures towards the inside of the building, nodding his head, “straight ahead, up the stairs.”

with those instructions, you head towards the back of the club and find a set of stairs, separated by a velvet rope with another bouncer standing in front of it. as if expecting your arrival, he unhooks the rope from its place and steps aside, gesturing for you to follow the stairs up. 

at the top of the stairs sits a closed door and when you push it open, peeking around it to get a look inside, you see a nice couch with two guys perched on them - one with a girl who you can assume is from the club sitting in his lap, while the other sips from the drink in his hand, eyeing you the second you’re past the threshold. 

the one with the girl in his lap openly squeezes her ass, grinning at you when you look away quickly. he leans forward, whispering something in her ear, and she stands with a pout, practically glaring at you as she leaves. 

the door clicks shut behind her, and you’re left in awkward silence with the thrum of music playing under your feet. 

after a moment, the one with a drink in hand tilts his head at you, “what’s a pretty thing like you doin’, askin’ for us by name?” 

“‘m lookin’ for koko . . .” you voice is smaller than you remember, making you almost cringe in on yourself at the way they eat it up. 

“why’re ya lookin’ for our koko?” 

“w-we’re friends.” you stutter out, “i just. . . need to talk to him.” 

“where’d all that confidence go?” the one who had the girl in his lap tsks as he stands, “we heard you over his comms, you were practically demanding to talk to us - now you’re a stuttering lil’ mess. what happened between now and then?” 

he stops in front of you, head tilted as he looms over you, “maybe you should get to know us first. ‘m ran, that’s rindou. thought we knew ‘bout all the nice things koko keeps hidden away.” 

though he isn’t speaking to you for the last part, his eyes don’t leave you while they rake over your face, over your body. he reaches to cup your cheek, almost pouting at the way you flinch away from the contact with a frown. 

“i’m just lookin’ for koko.” you settle with, leaning away from him. 

ran actually does pout at this, bottom lip jutted out. “you’re tellin’ me we can’t have some fun before he gets here?” 

“that’s exactly what they’re sayin’, actually.” someone says from behind you, and you jump when you’re being pulled away from ran by your upper arm. a glance behind you reveals the man you’ve been waiting for - koko, with his hair pulled neatly to the side and a scowl on his face. 

ran grins at the sight of him, clapping his hands as if he wasn’t just making you uncomfortable. rindou just clicks his tongue. 

“s’a shame you got here so quick. thought we’d have some time to get to know ‘em.” 

“as if you’d try.” koko accuses, fingers digging into your skin, “you know he’d be pissed if you did anything.” 

“who said anything ‘bout trying anything. just wanna know who’s got our dear boss so worked up all the time.” 

instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reply, koko fully faces you with his eyes narrowing to further slits, “you must be crazy to come here, even crazier to ask around for us in the first place.” 

“i need to see mikey,” you frown, “was the only way i could think of since it was you that showed up the other day, right?”

you can see the way he clenches his jaw, muscles tight, “doesn’t matter. do you know how dangerous it was for you to ask around for us? mikey isn’t someone you can just see anyways-” 

“why can’t they?” rindou, seemingly the only sensible guy in the room, questions, “they wanna talk to ‘im, he’d only be one call away.” 

“you know why.” koko snaps, heavy weight of his glare moving from you to the male, “we can’t just-” 

ran’s phone rings from his pocket, effectively silencing koko mid sentence, and when he pulls it out, he waves it in front of koko with a sharp-toothed grin, “speak of the devil.” 

you open your mouth to ask, maybe even demand the phone from ran as he answers, but a sharp squeeze to your arm from koko leaves you quiet - a silent warning heard loud and clear. 

don’t say a word. 

ran’s eyes rake over your form as he answers, licking his lips like you could be his next meal, “yeah? he just got here. no, i would never! i’m offended you think i would,” whatever mikey’s saying has him grinning like a schoolgirl, gaze moving from you to koko, “if ya wanted to talk to him, why didn’t you call him. yeah, whatever, whatever, fine.” 

he offers the phone to koko, who grimaces at the device. 

“wants to talk to you.” ran elaborates, as if the implication wasn’t clear enough. 

koko snatches the phone from him with a glare, letting go of your arm to turn away from the two of you, “hello?” 

you can barely make out the sound of someone on the other line, lip pulled between your teeth when you see how koko’s face pinches in distaste for whatever mikey could be saying. 

“are you sure that’s a good idea. no, that's not what i'm saying at all - okay, fine. yeah, i’ll take ‘em there. sure. bye.” 

he hangs up with a scowl, tossing ran back his phone as he turns to reface you, “come on, we’re gonna go somewhere.” 

“to mikey?” you ask, hope leaking off your tongue. 

he doesn’t reply, opening the door and gesturing for you to exit the room when you don’t immediately begin moving. 

you offer a small wave goodbye to ran and rindou, despite the fact that there was no pleasure in meeting them in the first place, and you miss the glare koko sends them once you’re walking down the steps. koko leads you out of the club, guiding you by the upper arm through the sea of people until you’re stepping into the cool night air outside. 

though you’re no longer in the middle of the thrum of people, koko’s grasp on your arm doesn’t leave until he’s stopping in front of a sleek black car. a cadillac, maybe? mercedes? you’ve never been good with vehicles. 

he opens the door for you, though, and you have enough sense to mumble a small thanks as you climb in. 

when he enters through the driver’s door, he pauses for a minute, letting the silence wash over the two of you while gripping the steering wheel. 

“it really is stupid of you to come around here, ” he says finally, still looking straight ahead while you move to carefully pull your seatbelt on, “i shouldn’t even take you to him, you know. i should just take you home.” 

“you don’t have room to talk about stupid decisions,” you snap in time with the click of the buckle, “inupi and i have mourned the loss of people we care about who are still alive and well, that’s not fair.” 

you see the way his jaw clenches, knuckles turning white from how hard he holds the steering wheel. 

“we made sacrifices for you-” 

“i made sacrifices too,” you frown, thinking about the lost opportunities to raise your son, “and i just want five minutes of talking to mikey. is that too much to ask?” 

“you have other people to look out for instead, “ koko clicks his tongue, grip relenting as he looks over to you, “just remember that you asked for this.” 

the weight of his words settle heavy in the air as he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot. 

the car ride is silent aside from the soft music that plays from the radio, turned to low volume. koko doesn’t move to break the silence, and you don’t have it in you to disrupt the tension that builds, anxiety creeping under your skin until it pops into goosebumps on the surface when he pulls in front of a large apartment building. 

“you’re gonna go to the top floor,” koko explains, not looking over at you, “he should already be there.” 

“should?” you parrot, nerves catching up with you. 

“if not already then soon.” he clicks the button to unlock the doors for you, and your breath stutters at the sound, fingers dancing around the door handle. 

“okay . . . thank you, koko. it’s . . . it is good to see you again. inupi would be happy to know you’re okay.” 

you don’t stay long enough to hear the way he inhales sharply, don’t see the way he tenses from the words. koko doesn’t wait for you to enter the building before he drives off, and you don’t look back as you push open the doors. 

the lobby is cold, you note dully, and it must be the reason your hairs stand on end when you find your way to the elevators. you wrap your arms around yourself after stepping inside of them, pressing the button to the top floor and willing your heart to not beat out of your chest. 

you realize just how much money mikey must have when the doors open to a penthouse - the entire floor being taken up as the apartment. you slowly step inside, sliding off your shoes by elevator and peek around inside the open area, spotting a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in the space. there’s a hall that cuts off towards the right of the room and you wonder if that’s where the bedroom(s?) and bathroom are. 

it feels wrong, almost, being here alone. though the room is definitely well furnished (the couch itself looks like it costs more than your broken down car), it feels . . . devoid of life. like maybe it’s only a place for rest - not a home. there’s no comfort of connection anywhere in the building, no vulnerability in personal property. you make your way further into the living room, eyeing the art hanging on the wall as if it could mean something to you. 

“i really thought he’d take you home.” you jump at the sound of a voice, whirling around to face whoever could be speaking. 

your mouth dries at the sight. 

mikey, but surely not your mikey, with his hair cropped short and paler than anything you remember, with bags under his eyes and frame thinner than what could be considered healthy, steps into view from the hall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

words die on your lips when he stops beside you, leaning back as if really taking in the painting you were eyeballing, head tilting, “heard you wanted to talk to me. must’ve been important if you went through all that trouble just to find me.” 

you don’t know what possesses you to take the first swing, to hit at his shoulder and his chest with tears welling in your eyes, but you do. 

and by some miracle, he lets you. it probably helps your hits are weak, with no intention to really harm - only needing an outlet for the emotions you’d been harboring for four fucking years. 

“why didn’t you call me,” you whisper when you’re finished with your barrage of hits, letting him guide you to the couch and sit you down on it, placing himself on the other end, “i-i wrote to you, i texted, i called, i looked for four years, mikey, and i got nothing in return. do you even know what for?” 

when you look at him, his gaze is set straight ahead to the wall across from the two of you, to the flatscreen tv that’s been off since you’d arrived - and who knows how long before that. 

“i’ve been busy.” he offers instead of answering, stare unwavering despite the way you frown and sigh out your disappointments. 

"too busy to respond? to even acknowledge my existence? what kind of fucking answer is that!?" you’re heated all over again by his lack of concession, at the way his eyes don’t leave the screen of the tv until you’re standing up from the couch with your arms out beside you, then tucking them into yourself and turning away from him, “koko was right, he should’ve just taken me home-” 

“why’d you come?” he asks instead, gaze finally moving from the tv to you. 

the question makes you pause, dig your nails into your arms as if that could somehow ground you. 

“i . . . we have a son.” you say finally, not turning to face him as the words leave your lips. 

you’re met with a beat of silence before he says, “i know.” 

i know. i know. i know, i know i know i know. 

he knew. 

he knew. 

“you know?” you repeat, turning to face him, suddenly quieter than before. 

“that you had a son,” he clarifies, face unreadable as he continues, “wasn’t sure if he was mine.” 

“how?” you press, legs buckling under your weight and leaving you to fall back down to the couch. 

“we . . . i’ve had koko do check-ins on everyone, every now and then,” he looks away at the admittance, “to make sure their lives are going well. did you know mitsuya’s a designer now? hakkai’s even modeled a few of his designs, and chifuyu and kazutora own a pet shop together, too” he’s deflecting, you can tell from the way he keeps his stare even and away from your own. 

“i do know,” you snap, “because they visit when they can. they want to see their nephew when they’re able to come by.” 

the way you bite your words out should sting, should hurt in a way he can’t place, but they don’t. he’s done this to himself, he knows, he’s just reaping what he’s sown. 

“why’d you leave?” you whisper out, “w-why’d you just disappear? why didn’t you respond to me? why did it take me getting hurt for you guys to make yourself known?”

he opens his mouth to reply, to say anything, but he doesn’t have an answer that will satisfy you. he knows that, and that is enough reason for him to keep his mouth shut. 

“have you seen him?” you’re still whispering, appalled he couldn’t assume your son was his - as if you didn’t pick the name shin for him. mikey shakes his head and it has you pulling out your phone with shaking hands, shoving it in his face until the lock screen photo of you, your son, and draken glare brightly back at him. 

his gaze moves from you to your phone, eyes scanning over the photo before they flit over to your face. 

“i didn’t know he was ours.” he defends, looking away, and you push the phone further into his face so he can’t escape it. 

“i’m telling you now that he is. “ you’re leaning into his space now, emphasize the need to look at the photo with another shake, and when he looks at you, really looks at you, his eyes trail from your own to your lips, to the bruises that marr your neck from the night prior. 

he tips your chin up to get a better look at them, setting you with a look when you offer some resistance, “did those guys do this to you?” you nod, “they won’t touch you again. no one will.” 

you frown at the implication, pushing his hand away with the hand not holding your phone, and he grabs that hand by the wrist when he spots the bruises decorating the skin there, taking it in with a still expression. 

“i can take care of you guys,” he settles, “make sure you never need or want anything. you won’t have to work at that shitty diner anymore. our kid would have anything he could ever desire.” 

his hand comes up to cup your cheek, wipes the stray tear that falls from your eyes, and against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. 

“i’m not asking that of you,” you explain, closing your eyes and willing any other tears that want to fall away, “you don’t even know his name.” you remind him, opening your eyes and standing when your phone starts to ring. you wipe at your face hastily, looking at the caller id, and only get a glance of the name ken before mikey’s pulling you down into his lap. 

you make a noise of disagreement, phone falling from your grasp to the couch beside the two of you from the sudden movement. 

“tell me his name.” he says, one hand still holding your wrist while the other keeps you in place by the hip. 

he practically demands it, eyes boring into your own as they search for the answer. 

“shin,” you reply after a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth, “i named him shin.” 

the hand at your hip grips it tighter, fingers digging into the flesh until it almost hurts. 

“after?” 

“shinichiro, yeah.” you don't know if it’s really necessary to clarify, but you don’t have a second to think about it when he suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. 

you falter for only a second before you’re returning the kiss with fervor, the hand not being held by mikey gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer. 

“i will take care of you guys,” he promises when he pulls away from your lips to press his own to your chin, trailing down to your jaw and settling at the junction of your throat, peppering kisses at the free expanse of skin until it’s decorated pretty with hickies. 

his fingers dance under the hem of your dress, pulling you flush against him until your senses are full of nothing but, “can give ‘nother, you guys’ll have everything you could ever want.” he continues, the hand moving under your dress skimming across the tops of your thighs and pressing against your stomach. 

you whine, quiet and high in the back of your throat that leaves him grinding against you, hand moving from your stomach to your bare hip to guide you. he’s saying so many things, whispering so many assurances in your ear, and for a second, it’s too much. 

too overstimulating and happening too fast, but the way he holds you is so familiar, so comforting and warm and god you’ve missed him so fucking much. your phone buzzes to your right from the couch, and you pull away for a second to see it light up, see your brother’s contact pop up in that short amount of time before he’s forcing your attention back to him with a pinch to your hip, fingers pressing into your cheeks to turn your head back towards him. 

“eyes on me,” he demands, “keep your eyes on me.” 

#salmon rowe #mikey sano x reader #sano mikey x reader #mikey x reader #sano x reader #mikey sano #sano mikey #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader

[dumbslxtclub]

just a taste | e.m - part one

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: a summer pool party at the harrington residence emboldens you to make a move on eddie

content warnings: fem!reader, 18+ for eventual smut, adult language, adult themes, mentions of underage drinking and drugs, reader is 19, brief mention of male masturbation, sexual tension

word count: 2.4k+

a/n: this has been living in my drafts for far too long, so I'm posting it as motivation to actually write the *smut*. big love to @dickfics69 for helping me with this one xx

The raucous and completely off-tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ fills the balmy night air, undoubtedly disturbing the sleepy neighbors surrounding Steve’s property. Hoards of your senior classmates crowd the backyard, beer sloshing against concrete as they jauntily sing at the top of their lungs, hoarse from an evening of inhaling far too much smoke. A forgotten bonfire crackles in the corner, one or two figures passed out in the warm glow. Sweat clings to your skin, the thin material of your summer dress far too claustrophobic in the sweltering heat of the night. No reprieve from this warmth is granted as Robin’s arm wrap around your shoulders, practically blowing out your eardrum from the volume she’s singing. One of those ecstatic inebriated moments of youth, surrounded by people you’ll never see again after graduation, living for today. A perfect night. There’s only one thing missing.

You’ve been eyeing Eddie all night. Liquid courage has fueled your interactions, boldly brushing against the sinewy muscles of his bare arm, complimenting the scratchy tattoo job adorning his forearm. Nothing out of the ordinary, the pair of you close friends who have spent many a night leaning on one another as another movie flashes across the TV screen. But tonight, you feel emboldened to make a move. You’ve tried, and failed, to rationalize your attraction to one of your best friends. His charismatic nature causes anyone who gives him the time of day to fall under his spell, with Eddie remaining blissfully oblivious to his effect on people. Over the years, you’ve watched him transform from a meek boy into, well, a man. Unaware of how he’s grown into his body, lean muscles built from endless nights of loading band equipment into his van. Trading in his buzz cut for an unkempt mane of curls, which somehow always seem to fall into an effortless frame around the sharp bone structure of his face. What has always remained, however, is that boyish smile. Dimples hollowing deep into his cheekbones, causing you to trip over your words whenever they’re flashed in your direction. God, you’re in deep.

With a deep huff, Steve blows out the two pathetic candles Nancy pulled out of the bottom drawer and stuck haphazardly into the thick icing at the last moment. A loud cheer booms from the crowd, sending their drinks skywards in celebration.

“To Steve!” Robin practically screams, sloshing a fair amount of her cider down your already damp chest. 

“To me!” The birthday boy, grinning madly, tips his head back and empties the contents of his lukewarm beer down his gullet. He’s long since discarded his shirt, proclaiming “it’s my house and I’ll do what I want”, leaving nothing to stain as a steady trickle of liquid slides down his bare chest. 

The party is at its peak, electricity coursing through the night as unsupervised teenagers give into their impulses. Couples stand devouring each other in the corner with little regard as to who’s watching, some of the jock’s cannonballing into the pool. The brush of bodies around you clear, illuminating Eddie giving Steve a hearty hug and firm pat on the back. Now’s your chance. 

Shrugging Robin off your shoulders, you grab her wrist and lead her over to the pair, ready to cash in on her promise of playing wing-woman for you tonight. 

“Great party, Steve.” Addressing the younger man, you watch as he pulls a candle out and licks the icing off the base.

“Would you expect anything less?” He quips back, a cheeky smile taking over his face before he wraps a sweaty arm around your shoulders.

“I’ll expect you’re in for an ass-kicking when your parents get back on Monday.” Robin chimes in, clinging to you like a buoy for support.

“Pfft, cleaning up is tomorrow’s problem. We live for tonight!” Wow, Steve is sure getting into the spirit tonight. Eddie shakes his head at his friend’s antics, turning his attention to the sickly-sweet dessert.

“Want me to slice this up, big boy?” Ringed fingers slide along the skirting of the plate, but his eyes are elsewhere. You feel his gaze raking up the expanse of your thighs, oblivious to how your dress has ridden up amidst the sweaty excitement of the evening.

“Sure, could only help to soak up the alcohol at this point. I’ll grab a knife from the kitchen.” Stumbling backwards, he shoots a half-lidded look in Robin’s direction. “And where did you put my beers? Thought you said they were in the fridge.”

“They are, dingus. On the bottom shelf next to the lump that was probably once cheese but now could be studied for science.” 

“They’re actually not. And if someone stole them, they’re gonna have hell to pay.” “Oh my god! They are…” Their bickering trails off through the sliding doors into the house, leaving you and Eddie alone. Time for some world-class flirting, brain flicking through the Rolodex of teen magazines on how to make a move. But before your brain is capable of firing any neurons, Eddie beats you to the punch.

“The uh- the cake looks good.” Oh great, we’re going down the small talk route. It’s cool, totally cool. You can work with that.

“Oh, thanks! Robin and I baked it yesterday.” Off to a cracking start.

“Well, if you had anything to do with it, I bet it tastes as good as it looks.” Is he-

“Sure does, I’m a master baker. Go ahead, try it for yourself, see if your theory holds up.”

Eddie quirks his brow at you, and you give a small nod in the direction of the frosting-covered mound. A small smile creeps across his face as he dips his forefinger into the lip of the cake, a glob of white icing and sprinkles stuck to his fingertip. Raising it to his mouth, he slowly places the pad of his finger against his tongue, licking a long stripe of sugary cream onto his taste buds. You feel your cheeks burn at the sight, breath hitching in your throat. 

“Mmm, ‘ts good.” Satiated, Eddie’s lips curl into a smug smile, is he getting a rise out of seeing you like this? Masochist. But you’re nothing if not competitive. 

“You’ve uh, got something…” Pointing to the corner of your mouth, Eddie mirrors your action and wipes a small dollop of remaining frosting stuck to the apex of his lips. Pulling his hand back to study it, you take a sure step towards him, closing the gap. Wrapping your fingers around his, you bring the digit up to your lips and place his fingertip against the groove of your tongue. Lips curl around his finger, causing his eyes to widen. You know exactly how you look right now, grateful for the veil provided by the inebriated guests to prevent this gesture from being seen by anyone other than Eddie. Glancing up at him, you hollow your cheeks out slightly as you withdraw his finger from your pursed lips. You shoot him a honey-sweet smile, turning on your heels to find Robin.

“Yep, definitely tastes as good as it looks.”

After three bottom-shelf tequila shots, two generous slices of cake and one group rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody later, you’re feeling on top of the world.

And hot.

Like, stiflingly hot.

The living room is stuffy, thick with haze and balmy humidity. The party has begun to wind down, designated drivers loading up their cars with the inebriated to transport them home. And you, Robin and Steve are sweaty messes post-Queen performance doubling over with laughter on the dance floor. That’s when Steve loudly announces: “Everyone in the pool!”

He’s met with a mixed reaction, a few of the popular girls shooting him a dirty look as they resume their couch gossip session. But with your dress now acting as a sweat rag rather than a garment at this point, you jump at the idea. The three of you beeline into the mostly empty backyard, bar a few smokers lounging around on Steve’s deck chairs.

“Here comes trouble.” A voice chuckles through the billowing smoke, Eddie leaning forward on a recliner as you kick your shoes off haphazardly to the side. 

Steve, with little to discard besides his jeans, shucks them off and cannonballs into the pool, spraying the partygoers scattered around the rim with water. Robin quickly follows suit, diving in next to him, maroon tank top turning a shade darker as it intermingles with the liquid. You chuckle at how they immediately take to dunking one another under the surface, hoping an accidental drowning isn’t on the cards for the night. You turn to Eddie, who is shaking his head and taking a steady drag of his cigarette.

“You coming in?” He glances up at you, expression dropping slightly as he contemplates his answer.

“Nah, someone’s gotta play lifeguard tonight. Make sure Harrington doesn’t drown.”

“Suit yourself, then.” Grabbing the hem of your floral dress, you’re quick to shimmy it up and over your head. The cool breeze hits your clammy skin, providing the immediate relief you’ve been craving all night. Tossing it carelessly to the side, you feel soberingly exposed all of a sudden. Standing on the edge of the pool, water droplets tickle your bare feet as your friends splash about. Cool air caresses the groove between your breasts, intermingling with the sweat droplets accumulating between your lacy bra. The unlined cups provide further relief, a mere suggestion of material against your sensitive skin. On one of the rare occasions you elected to wear a matching set, you’re grateful for the cheeky cut design of your panties, allowing more airflow to cool down your body.

In your slightly drunken indulgence, you don’t notice Eddie unable to tear his eyes away from you. Drinking in your curves far more eagerly than any whiskey he’s consumed that night, committing every square inch to memory. Face to face with the body he’s only ever envisioned in his most private of moments, desperately trying to fill in the blanks as he stroked languidly along his cock, chasing the release only you can grant him. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. You’ve become his guilty pleasure, the only satisfying image in his mind’s eye. And now, standing in front of him, it’s better than he ever could have imagined. He’s still running off the high granted from the sensation of your lips wrapped around his finger. So warm and soft, your wet tongue flicking against the pad of his finger, sending shockwaves coursing through his body. Grateful for your swift departure, before you had the chance to notice the tightening bulge in his jeans. Blood rushed directly to his crotch, rendering him slightly dizzy from the whole interaction. Fuck drugs and alcohol. He was completely intoxicated by you. 

“Dude, help me out!” Robin extends her wet hand out to you, hair completely drenched from her underwater battle with Steve. With a smile, you reach out to your friend, grasping her hand in yours. With a swift tug, Robin’s grin is manic as she pulls out into the pool with a squeal. Water crashed around you, submerging you in a tepid ocean of relief. Bobbing back up to the surface, you feign annoyance before bursting into laughter. “God, you’re too easy sometimes!”

Stevel, floating on his back, looks unbelievably content gazing up at the night’s sky, another successful party in the books. Robin takes to doing laps of the pool, using up any excess energy she’s accumulated through the night. And you can’t help but notice the outlier, still sitting in the poolside lounge. You wade over to the edge, looking up at Eddie.

“It’s nice in here.”

“I’m sure it is.” Taking another drag of his cigarette, he shoots you a small smile. It’s sheepish, unlike him. 

“Didn’t bring your bathing suit?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“I can see that.” Eddie chuckles, respectfully averting his gaze.

“Can I have a quick drag?” You don’t usually smoke, but when in Rome. Eddie obliges, holding the butt of the cigarette out to you, just out of reach. Pressing up on the pool’s ledge, you hoist yourself up high enough out of the water to lean over and take the cigarette between your lips.

What you fail to notice is the way your breasts are pressed together, hands hip distance apart on the rough cement to just enough to accentuate the groove of your bust. Water droplets accumulated on your delicate skin, glimmering like the impending Autumn dew on grass under the moonlight. Ancient Greek artists could only hope to carve such a divine sculpture, striving for unattainable perfection as they tried to capture your beauty. And then, through the wisps of your lashes, you look up at him. Doe-eyed, cigarette perched between your parted lips, gaze boring into him. And Eddie feels the ground fail beneath him, no longer providing unconditional support. Head growing light as his blood rushes elsewhere in his body causes him to quickly clamber to his feet.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m just, um- not feeling great. Just gonna head inside for a bit.” And with that, Eddie averts his gaze and beelines for the sliding doors, disappearing into the house. 

Fuck. 

So much for playing it cool, it looks like tonight isn’t your night.

“Is Munson okay?” Steve floats over to your side, plucking the cigarette from your mouth to claim it as his own. 

“I don’t know, he said he wasn’t feeling well. Should someone check on him?”

“Nah, probably just smoked too much. I’m sure he'll just grab some water and settle down.”

You hope Steve is right, but five minutes turns to ten, and you begin to worry. What if he’s passed out in the bathroom? You need to go and see if he’s okay, he would do the same for you. Pulling yourself out of the water, you ring the remaining chlorinated water from your hair. In your drunken excitement, none of you possessed the foresight to bring towels out with you. And so, you concede to pulling your floral dress back onto your damp frame, sure Steve will let you borrow some of his clothes later on. Trailing water droplets into the carpeted living room, you peak around for any sight of Eddie. With no one left in the kitchen besides a couple shoving their tongues down each other's throats, you elect to head up the stairs. The bathroom is empty, as is the master bedroom, both doors ajar and rooms dark. 

“Eddie?” You approach Steve’s bedroom door, noticing the light seeping out from under the threshold. Hand meeting the door handle, you give it a shake and notice that it is unlocked. Tentatively pushing it open, you remain quiet in case a poor drunk girl is napping on the bed, not wanting to wake potential inhabitants.

The image you are instead presented with is far less innocent.

#dumbslxtclub #eddie x reader #eddie x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut

[lulublack90]

Prompt 16 - Fake Marriage

@wolfstarmicrofic May 16, word count 812

This is part two of Prompt 4 - Marriage of Convinience. There will be a part three, probably for prompt 26 but I'll see. I'll link everything together when it happens.

Remus settled into his new life relatively quickly. It had taken him a few weeks to get used to sleeping in a bed again. It hadn’t helped that the mattress was super soft, and he felt like he was sleeping on a marshmallow. But as with most things, you adjust. 

The other thing he was still getting used to was having an allowance. Sirius hadn’t been kidding when he’d said it would be generous. Remus didn’t even know what to spend that amount of money on. The majority of his purchases came from the little bookshop a few streets over. The owner had always been kind to him. When he’d been homeless, sometimes he’d sneak in there just to smell the books. But now, he felt he could finally enjoy them again. 

Sirius chuckled at him when he came flying through the door with his new purchases. 

“Remus, I think we maybe need to get you a bookcase.” He’d tutted as he eyed the bulging bags. “Come over here, and we’ll find one you like.” Sirius patted the sofa seat next to him and opened his laptop. Remus quickly put the bags into his room and hung up his coat before going to sit next to Sirius. 

He’d been in the flat for a few months now and their friendship had started back up as though there hadn’t been an eight-year gap when they’d lost contact. 

Sirius shuffled closer and Remus felt those old butterflies spreading their wings. It was something he’d never told Sirius about and probably something he should have mentioned before agreeing to marry him. But he hadn’t felt anything while they’d been sorting out all the paperwork, it was only when they’d been in the registry office repeating their vows that Remus had realised his old feelings for Sirius were still there. He tried his best to keep everything platonic, but when Sirius was basically sitting in his lap, it was hard to ignore. 

“I like the look of these ones. What do you think?” Sirius asked, bringing Remus back down to earth. He hadn’t been paying the least bit of attention. He glanced over at the screen and looked at the bookcases Sirius was talking about. They looked really nice. Dark wood and sturdy. 

“It’s your flat, Sirius. Get whatever you like.” He mumbled, hoping that would be the end of it. 

“It’s your room.” Sirius patted his knee and Remus tensed. “If you don’t like them, then we won’t get them.” Remus shook his head. 

“No, they’re fine. I really like them.” He said as evenly as he could. Sirius grinned at him and started typing in the order details. Remus couldn’t help but follow his fingers and stare at the simple gold band adorning his ring finger on his left hand. He wondered if maybe one day it would be real for them. 

He watched Sirius pick up his phone and open one of the many dating apps he had and begin scrolling through it. He sighed, probably not. 

Sirius doom scrolled through the people who wanted to match with him and found no one he wanted to waste his energy on. If he was being honest with himself, the only person he wanted to take out was Remus. 

He’d been flabbergasted when Remus had told him about Jeremy from marketing. He’d had to grip the table to stop himself from launching himself at the thin man and proclaiming his everlasting love for him. But he’d stopped himself and tried to find a way to help his friend. 

He’d never in a million years thought that Remus would agree to marry him and had planned to just buy all the things for himself and rent them to Remus for pennies. But then he’d agreed with very little persuasion, his heart had soared. 

He’d nearly called the whole thing off in the middle of the ceremony, when he’d stared into Remus’s eyes as he placed the ring on his finger and his knees had nearly buckled. But he hadn’t, and now they were married and Remus carefully kept his distance. 

He sighed thinking about it. Remus had left for his room as soon as Sirius had turned his phone on. He wished he could find a way to tell him how he felt, but now that they were in this fake marriage, he didn’t know if Remus would see it as Sirius trapping him and not just an idiot in love that wanted to help. 

He raked his hands though his hair as he tried to figure it out. Maybe Remus would buy so many books he’d have to move into Sirius’s room because he wouldn’t be able to sleep in his own. Sirius shook his head at the absurdity and deleted all the dating apps on his phone. They were useless to him now anyway. 

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar angst #wolfstar au #part 2 #remus lupin #sirius black #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #mary macdonald #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #remus and sirius #guys sort it out #remus will always have books #fake marriage

[sixzeroes]

walk with you.

summary | lee jeno has had you as his best friend for as long as he can remember. every step of the way, you were there, stuck to his side like glue. jeno always believed you’d be his best friend forever, so why is he starting to view you in a different, non-platonic light?

characters | lee jeno x reader(f).

genres | fluff, romance, slice of life, best-friends-to-lovers, childhood friends au, high school au, non-idol au.

warnings | profanity, johnny is jeno’s cousin, johnny is all-knowing and wise, mentions of alcohol consumption, jeno decides to avoid reader :((, unrequited feelings (but they’re actually requited and jeno’s just dumb), kissing at the end!!

word count | 5.6k

37.5MHz | walk with you by nct dream ⋆ beautiful by baekhyun ⋆ tiki-taka by crush ft. dpr live.

gonna be brutally honest idek what tf i was writing half the time so i rly hope the flow of this made sense!! 🥹🥹 but like f2l is lowkey difficult to write i’m never gonna do that again,, ep.02 of my candy! miniseries, but it can be read on its own!

“HEY SIRI, HOW DO I KNOW IF I LIKE SOMEONE?”

“Here’s what I found.”

5 Ways to Tell If You Like Someone

Here Are Seven Methods to Figure Out Your Feelings!

Take This Buzzfeed Quiz to See If You Like Them

Lee Jeno, a simple high school boy, clicks on the first link. The website opens immediately and the title stares at him in a fancy font. He scrolls, skipping the summary to get to the important part. 

1. Does your heartbeat accelerate around them?

Jeno thinks back to a few hours ago, when he was walking you home after school. His heartbeat was a little off, speeding up whenever you flashed him a smile. 

2. Do you think about them often?

Jeno ponders. He’s always thinking about you—you’re his best friend, after all. But does he think about you often in the romantic context? Hm, he’s not too sure. 

3. Do you miss them when you’re not together?

Jeno nibbles on his lower lip. There have been many instances where he wished he didn’t move away and just had to walk up two flights of stairs to where you lived. 

4. Do they make you feel good?

Jeno tilts his head. What does that mean? You definitely make him happy and bring joy to his everyday life, but does that qualify as ‘feel good’? 

“Jeno! Come have dinner!”

The boy sighs, tossing his phone onto his bed. He scratches his head as he exits his bedroom, reevaluating his feelings based on the questions he just read. Jeno is eighty-seven percent sure the questions perfectly describe his situation when he’s around you. The remaining thirteen percent? He’s just misreading his own platonic feelings. 

No, Jeno doubts he’s misreading anything. He’s just…unsure, considering this is the first time he’s ever liked a friend, much less his best friend of all people. He’s unsure if these feelings are even permissible. Can he like his best friend? Is that okay? Jeno’s seen plenty of friends-to-lovers in K-Dramas, and there’s always this hesitance in ‘ruining’ their friendship. What if the things Jeno feels will ultimately cause a rift between you and him? What will he do then? Die? He probably would, because Jeno finds it impossible to picture a future without you. (Some may say this is pure friendship. Donghyuck, the number one Jeno and Y/N shipper, says otherwise.) 

This is a tough equation—it’s one of those questions where he’s solved a majority of the maths but needs some guidance on narrowing down the final answer to either three decimal places or two. Jeno is the struggling student, and his teacher?

“Bro, what’s taking you so long?”

Of course, who else other than Johnny Suh, his cousin and self-proclaimed ladies’ man from America? 

Jeno shuffles out of his room, meeting Johnny in the hallway. “Can I ask you a question?”

The older man cocks a brow, lips shifting into an amused smile. “Shoot away.” 

“Later, after dinner. Let’s go out for ice cream.” 

“In this cold weather?”

“Or soju, if you’re okay with drinking alone.” 

Johnny Suh’s character is full of surprises, to say the least. To begin, the Korean-American had bought two bottles of champagne back at the airport in Chicago as ‘housewarming gifts’ (“Wait, Jeno isn’t legal? That’s okay, I first drank when I was sixteen.”). Next, he went missing for a week straight (busy spending his nights at Gangnam and Itaewon), only remembering to send an i’m okay! be home this weekend :) text after Jeno’s mother threatened to report him missing. Then, he returned to Jeno’s place with a bunch of snacks from the nearby GS25, offering it as an apology for sending the household into chaos for the past week. Lastly, Johnny introduced a new outlook in Jeno’s life. 

Or, well, he’s about to, considering his position in Jeno’s makeshift maths class scenario. 

Johnny takes a swig of soju, releasing a satisfied hum after gulping the contents down. In contrast, Jeno nibbles on his ice cream bar, a little nervous to pop the question. He debates on how to word it but eventually gives up, deciding it’s better to be straightforward than to beat around the bush. “Is it…okay to like a friend?” 

There’s a moment of silence. Jeno realises how ridiculous his question is. Johnny swirls his soju bottle. “Do you like someone, Jeno?” 

“I—What—You can’t answer my question with a question!” 

“Oh, I see,” says Johnny, a playful glint in his eyes. “This is about that friend of yours, right? That girl you’re always walking home even though she lives like thirty minutes away? What was her name again? Yonam? Yerna? Ah—Y/N?” 

Jeno’s eyes widen and his cheeks grow red. “No! She’s just a friend. We’re just…friends.” 

“Sure, sure,” goes Johnny, dismissing Jeno’s weak claims with a fling of his wrist. “Let me tell you something, Jeno. Girls and guys? We can never be ‘just friends.’ It doesn’t work like that, you know.” 

“But…” the younger falters. “Don’t you have a lot of friends that are girls, Johnny? I’ve seen your Instagram stories.” 

Johnny sips his drink. “That’s different. We’re different. You, my good boy, are a high school kiddo with raging hormones. I am willing to bet my entire life that you like Yona.”

“Y/N,” Jeno corrects him. “How can I be sure that I like her?” 

“You can’t, unless you face her with those feelings.” the Korean-American turns to him with a stern face. He presses a finger against Jeno’s chest. “You can hide your feelings from your crush but don’t hide them from yourself. Bask in the fact that you like her while sitting in her presence. Observe yourself. Think about the situation. Are you sure you like her, yes or no?” Johnny finishes the rest of his soju. “Your answer doesn’t lie with me, Jeno. It’s within you.” 

Jeno’s heart skips at Johnny’s words, overwhelmed with inspiration. “You’re…pretty poetic, Johnny.” 

The latter smugly smiles. “My roommate’s a literature major. He’s kinda rubbing off on me.” 

The rest of the evening passes by in a blur, with Johnny drinking four more bottles of alcohol inside the brightly lit convenience store. Jeno drags his feet back to the family apartment with Johnny in tow, the older man’s weight significantly slowing him down. When he arrives, his mother forcefully wakes the Korean-American up and scolds him for drinking so much on a weekday. In response, Johnny hugs her with an intoxicated laugh and falls asleep on the couch. During the entire ordeal, all Jeno can think of are Johnny’s wise words. 

It’s within you.

Johnny’s right. In Jeno’s makeshift maths class scenario, the student is Jeno, but so is the teacher. He is the key to the equation he’s struggling to solve. 

Tomorrow. When Jeno sees you tomorrow, he’s going to face his feelings and categorise it accordingly. 

Wednesday mornings have never been this frightening. 

In fact, Jeno has never feared anything as much as facing his feelings while you’re sitting right beside him during the regular route to school. Not much has changed since Tuesday morning: he got on the same subway at the same station with (relatively) the same people for another similar day. Except, he’s ninety-nine percent sure he likes you. 

Okay, so maybe a bit has changed since Tuesday morning: he got on the same subway at the same station with (relatively) the same people for another similar day but with newfound emotions. 

Johnny told him to ‘bask in his feelings’ and ‘observe himself.’ 

Jeno is doing everything but that. 

He’s a nervous wreck, to sum it up. Every time the subway slows to a stop and your shoulder brushes against his, he feels as if his heart is going to swallow him whole. Whenever you bring up a meme, he absentmindedly laughs as three-fourths of his focus is poured into acting normal. There is little to no eye contact; obviously, Jeno finds the advertisements far more interesting than your pretty face. 

Or maybe, he is basking in his feelings and observing himself. The realisation hits him as an elderly woman sits in the empty seat across from him. Jeno is anxious around you. He’s conscious of the way he acts, smells, talks, walks—whatever. You’ve known him his entire life and have seen him at his worst (i.e., his emo middle school era), and yet, Jeno finds the mere idea of you seeing his bedhead horrifying. Such self-awareness is a blessing and a curse. 

“Jeno?” you chirp, poking the boy’s side. He reacts with a hum. “You’re awfully quiet today.” 

He gulps, trying his best to maintain a cool facade. “I’m just tired,” he answers with a tight voice. “Stayed up late tending to my drunk cousin.” It’s not a complete lie—Johnny was intoxicated last night. 

You brush a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Johnny? He’s your American cousin, right?”

Jeno tries to stay calm at your gesture but his ears are heating up. “Mhm. He’s…wild.” 

The conversation dies down immediately. Jeno is jittery, his leg bouncing up and down, eyes darting from one passenger to another. He’s too preoccupied to notice your concerned gaze; too busy presenting himself as normal as possible without realising how abnormal he truly appears. 

For the remaining minutes, you don’t say anything, choosing to scroll through your social media feed instead. During the short walk to school, again, no words leave your mouth. Jeno glimpses your quiet figure. Silence is strange on you, but he doesn’t try to tug a sound out of you. 

This is the first time the two of you have ever been enveloped in such a sheer layer of awkwardness. Never has there been an instance where it was suffocating to be in the other’s presence—never, until Jeno’s heart decided to think on its own and develop feelings for you. 

There. 

He’s said it. 

Lee Jeno likes you, one hundred percent confirmed during the subway ride to school. 

One foot has been in the puddle for the past few weeks, testing the depth below the surface. He tested, and tested, and tested, until he slipped inside, drenching himself in the water. 

Jeno wasn’t sure of his feelings. At one point, he figured this more-than-platonic affection for you was just a hoax (don’t ask him why, he doesn’t know either). All he did was sit next to you, just like any other day, with slightly different feelings. And all of a sudden, he fell, and oh, did he fall hard. 

He’s drowning even though the puddle wasn’t that deep. 

Or maybe, it’s always been that deep. Jeno just failed to realise it before. 

“Jeno. You’re scaring Jisu with that glare of yours.” 

Huang Renjun is standing diagonal to Jeno’s desk with a small carton of banana milk in his hand. The said boy glances over at his classmate, Choi Jisu, who’s clearly intimidated from his hardened stare. He loosens his expression instantly, averting his gaze back to his friend. “What time is it?” 

“Eleven,” says Lee Donghyuck, popping out from behind Renjun. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been staring off into space for the entire morning.” 

Na Jaemin, sitting beside him, nods in agreement. “Yeah. Are you sick or something?” 

Renjun snorts. “He’s probably lovesick as always.”

Normally, when any of the three boys joke about you and Jeno’s friendship like that, Jeno would always grow defensive and borderline shout, “She’s just a friend!” But today, he sits with his lips pursed, unable to refute the claim. Renjun, Donghyuck, and Jaemin simultaneously drop their jaws. 

“No way,” whispers Donghyuck, his eyes wide. “No fucking way.”

“Jeno, you…” Renjun trails off in shock. 

Jaemin slaps his shoulder. “You actually like Y/N?”

If a tomato were a person, it would be Jeno. His ears burn and he avoids looking any of them in the eyes, choosing to bury his red face into his arms. He can hear the boys cheering, creating chaos over his recently established feelings. Someone—probably Donghyuck—pats his head, proud of his accomplishment. 

“When did you realise?” Donghyuck asks, prodding Jeno’s ear. “You were always so disgusted whenever we called you two lovebirds. Why the sudden change of heart?” 

Jeno shrugs, still facing the surface of his desk. “It just happened.”

Renjun finishes his banana milk. “You asked Siri, didn’t you?”

The lovestruck boy whips his head up, bewildered at the correct statement. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” 

A groan tumbles from Jeno’s lips as he shrinks into his seat. “I’m so screwed. How am I supposed to face Y/N now? I can’t let her know about my feelings. It’ll ruin our friendship.”

“Why do you think that?” Donghyuck says with a sly tone. He observes Jeno’s actions with a playful glint in his eyes. “You never know, she might like you back.”

Renjun chuckles at the not-so-subtle hint while Jaemin simply nods again. 

Jeno frowns, sceptically eyeing each of them. “She doesn’t. She recently broke up with Soobin from Class 3-4, so there’s no way she’d develop feelings for me in the span of a month.” 

“To be fair,” goes Renjun, “Y/N and Soobin only dated for two weeks. That’s nothing compared to the years you’ve spent together.” 

“I agree,” hums Donghyuck, now fiddling with his pencil. “Who cares if her ex-boyfriend is a good-looking guy? You’re okay-looking, so I think you have a shot.”

Jeno rolls his eyes at Donghyuck’s impish grin. “Thanks, Hyuck. You light up my world.” 

Jaemin taps the pads of his fingers against his chair. “Why don’t you distance yourself for a bit? Organise your thoughts on whether you’d like to attempt at something or just fold your feelings away.”

The bell rings, indicating the next period’s start. Renjun and Donghyuck retreat back to their seats and Jaemin pulls out an English novel. Ms. Son walks in with a cheerful smile, happily greeting the class to which the students respond. She begins by announcing an upcoming English story competition for anyone who may be interested, listing the important details with a sunny voice. Finally, she moves onto the contents of today’s class, asking everyone to bring out their copies of The Outsiders. Jeno nearly misses her instructions, only grabbing the book from his backpack when Renjun lightly kicks his chair. He tries to pay attention this time, considering how challenging English is, but to no avail, fails. Once again, Jeno’s mind becomes clouded with thoughts about you—only this time, the concern surrounds Jaemin’s suggestion. 

Organise your thoughts. 

Jeno isn’t sure about where to start. 

He sighs, flipping through the pages until he lands on the chapter Ms. Son mentioned. As if his current predicament isn’t headache-inducing enough, the English alphabet is seeking to destroy his peace. 

Whatever, he thinks to himself, opting to just stare out the window instead. I’ll figure this out later.

jeno: sorry, y/n. johnny wants to hangout after school today jeno: i don’t think i can walk you home

you: that’s okay!! i’ll see you tomorrow morning, jeno :)

Jeno feels a little guilty lying to you, but he needs to stay away from you right now. Whenever he’s near you, he buffers, unable to act like his usual self. Tonight, he’s going to lay in his bed and decide after thinking everything over. Tomorrow, he’s going to act upon his decision. 

Jaemin sits across from him, going through a checklist of some sort. Apparently, the student body president managed to receive a green light for a ‘seniors only’ winter event, and Jaemin has been tasked with managing the necessary materials. Jeno knows his friend is displeased, but alas, he is only vice president, and whatever the president says, goes. 

“You’re still here?” Jaemin suddenly inquires, looking up from the pages. “Didn’t Y/N’s club end ten minutes ago?” 

Jeno exits Genshin Impact on his phone. “I told her I couldn’t walk her home today because of Johnny.”

“You lied.”

“So I can figure out my desires,” Jeno adds in defence. “I’m gonna take your advice and distance myself for a bit.” 

The vice president sets his pen down and leans into his chair. “You should at least tell her you want space instead of avoiding her with no words. She’ll get hurt, you know.”

Jeno licks his lips. “I know, but I’m scared she might catch on if I tell her that. It’s no different from outright saying ‘Hey, I like you.’”

“I guess so.” 

The duo are enveloped by silence as Jaemin returns to his duties and Jeno opens Genshin Impact again. He’s setting up to continue his previous play when a message from Johnny pops up. 

johnny: yo jeno, wanna go out for dinner? i’ll pay

Jeno sits up straight. “Seems like I wasn’t lying after all. Johnny’s asking if I’m free. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jaem.”

“Mhm.”

jeno: gatten sushi??

johnny: DEAL

It’s been approximately one week since that fateful Wednesday morning, and Lee Jeno has been actively avoiding you. No, he did not heed Jaemin’s advice; he’s too scared to confront you like that. Every morning, he’d hit you with the same excuse over text:

jeno: sorry y/n, johnny wants to hangout until he leaves

And you would answer him with:

you: go have fun with your cousin <3

Jeno’s lies are terrible, he knows that. Somehow, the white lie has become so warped that Johnny now (probably) appears to be an obsessive cousin who’s unwilling to stay away except for during school hours. Johnny wants to walk with Jeno to school and hangout with him afterwards. That’s the story the lovesick boy is sprinting with, and although he feels bad for painting such a strange image of his cousin, it’s not like Johnny’s ever going to cross paths with you. 

At least, not in the near future. 

Jeno leaves for school an hour earlier than usual. He knows you have no club activities before school and you aren’t a morning person. The earliest you will ever wake up is seven a.m., so the chances of accidentally running into you is approximately four percent. 

Jeno’s been successful so far. You haven’t come looking for him either, so he assumes you’ve either realised he needs space or are too busy with extracurricular activities to care. 

(He really hopes it isn’t the second one.)

Donghyuck stuffs a spoonful of bulgogi and rice into his mouth, a blissful expression on his face. He continues to inhale more of his lunch until he suddenly perks up. “Look, lover boy. It’s Y/N.”

Instinctively, Jeno turns at the mention of you. He catches your figure standing in line for food with Roh Jeongui and Kim Chaewon. Your eyes meet his, and he offers a sheepish wave to which you smile back. Jeno’s nape grows hot. 

You’re too pretty when you smile. 

He shyly diverts his gaze to his food, scooping up a portion of his lunch to distract himself. Renjun nudges him with a teasing “Ooh,” which Donghyuck snickers at. Jaemin shakes his head but an amused grin graces his lips. Jeno tickles Renjun’s side. “Shut up, Huang.” 

“You know, the winter event for seniors will be happening in nine days,” mentions Jaemin, stirring his soup. “Why don’t you take Y/N as your date?”

Donghyuck claps at the idea. “Jaemin, you wonderful, wonderful man. That is one wonderful idea!”

Renjun chimes, “How romantic. Feels like a fairytale.” 

Jeno hopes his cheeks aren’t as rosy as he thinks they are. “No way. I’d rather just go with you guys.”

“Who said we’d want to go with you, though?”

He shoots Donghyuck a glare. “Do you even have a date, Hyuck?”

The younger one proudly grins, his chest puffing up. “I do, actually. I have Renjun.” 

The said boy sticks his tongue out. “Too bad, I’m going with your sister, my girlfriend.” 

“Sorry, Renjun, but it’s seniors only.” Jaemin interrupts. “The student president wants it to be a special memory for the seniors. Also, we have a tight budget that barely covers the school’s third year population. So, a second year student can't attend.” 

Renjun pouts, visibly dismayed. In contrast, Donghyuck’s face is shining with glee. “Guess you’re my date, then, Junnie!” 

Jeno consumes the rest of his lunch, thoroughly thinking about Jaemin’s proposition (again). He wonders if he can just ask you to go with him to the event as a friend. Would that be weird? He certainly thinks nothing could be as weird as his feelings for his best friend. 

The boy sighs, swamped by the confusing reality he’s living in. Whatever he’s doing cannot go on any longer. He needs to stop avoiding you and confront the yearnings of his heart. But there’s no way Jeno could just suddenly go back to acting ‘normal’ around you—even if he decides to bury his feelings to save the friendship, he’s still going to have lingering feelings and, with no doubt, you would ask him to tell you the truth behind his sudden aloofness. 

Jeno is going to confess to you. 

The bulgogi thinks he should. 

It’s dangerous but he’s willing to take the risk, even if it means that the friendship may never be repaired and he may never be close to you again. But that’s okay, because he’d much rather stay truthful with you during the entire friendship instead of continuing a lie that will eventually bite him in the ass. 

Jeno decides to set a deadline for himself: on the night of the winter event, he will confess to you. 

He steels his grip around the utensils. 

Nine days. Lee Jeno is going to confess to you on the ninth day of those nine days. The eight days prior to the ninth, he’s going to prepare himself for every possible outcome that could occur on Friday evening. He steals an egg roll from Renjun’s tray, to which the older one sputters in shock. Nine days. In nine days, Jeno’s friendship with you is going to accelerate into something more or crumble into pieces. 

Nine days. 

He’s got this. 

Jeno does not have this. 

Since when did eight days become equivalent to eight seconds? (The math is not mathing.) Jeno stares at the mirror, his reflection blankly blinking back. He’s dressed in a black suit and adorns a green tie for that pop of colour. It’s not exactly his style, but Renjun proposed the four of them match for their first and last high school event. Jeno decided to go green, while Renjun chose yellow, Donghyuck went with blue, and Jaemin used a colour generator to pick a shade (resulting in purple). He’ll probably find it tacky when he looks back in the future, but right now, he’s rather satisfied with the scheme. 

Jeno’s mother blow dries his hair, brushing through the strands with her nimble fingers. She sets the drier down and runs a comb down his bangs, smiling at her beautiful son. “When did my cute son become this handsome?” 

Jeno groans at the comment, bashful and embarrassed. “Mom,” he whines, “don’t say that.”

“What?” she laughs, finding his reaction entertaining. “It’s true. You were the cutest baby, I can’t believe you’re graduating soon.” 

Me neither, Jeno mentally agrees.

“There you go!” she exclaims, clasping her hands. She steps back and lets Jeno examine his appearance.

“Beware of SM,” Johnny jokes from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He whistles, “You look great.” 

Jeno grins. “Thanks, Johnny.” He thanks his mother for styling his hair and walks out of the bathroom, heading to the doorway. His father sticks a thumbs-up in approval from the dinner table. Jeno drags his coat on, plants his feet into his newly-bought dress shoes, and waves to his parents from the entrance. They tell him to have fun to which he replies, “I’ll try!”

(Because, you know, he’s going to confess tonight and that thought alone has him breaking into a cold sweat every five minutes.)

Johnny’s his chauffeur for tonight. His cousin offered to give Jeno and his friends a ride to the school and back, and although he states it’s out of pure love, the younger surmises that Johnny wants to go for a late night drive around Seoul. The two get into his father’s car; Johnny behind the wheel, Jeno in the passenger’s seat. 

By car, the ride to the apartment complex where the rest live isn't that far. They arrive there in no time and soon, the car is filled with three teenage boys—Jaemin is a member of the student council therefore having to arrive before six—and one young adult singing along to Big Bang’s Bang Bang Bang the entire ride to school. 

“I’ll come by around ten p.m.,” says Johnny, leaning out the window. The boys nod, give their thanks, and run into the building. 

“Jaemin!” Renjun shouts, garnering the attention of their friend. 

“You guys are early,” the vice president notes, bumping fists with Donghyuck. “Did Johnny drop you guys off?”

Jeno nods. “He’ll be back around ten to pick us up, but let your mother know you’ll be back by eleven. Johnny said he’ll take us out for McDonald’s after.” 

“Nice.”

The four of them head down the hallway toward the gymnasium, where the winter event is set to take place. The large room is decorated in golds, whites, and blues, with streamers and balloons hanging from the walls. A long table of snacks and drinks line the wall adjacent to the entrance and a DJ booth is situated in the centre of the stage. Many students have already arrived, even more filtering in as the clock ticks closer to seven. And when the little hand strikes seven, Jeno sees you walk in. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, awestruck. 

You look stunning. 

You’re walking with Chaewon and Kim Sunwoo, chatting excitedly over God knows what. He’s too focused on your presence to realise Donghyuck’s snapped a few photos of his dropped jaw and wide eyes. 

Have you always been this pretty?

“Jeno, you’re staring.” Renjun teases, poking his cheek. Jeno comes back to his senses, ears furiously blushing. He rips his gaze away and clears his throat. He made a mistake. The boys are never going to let him live this down. 

“Let’s check out the food!” chirps Donghyuck as the DJ starts blasting music. Renjun happily follows and Jaemin heaves Jeno along. 

Jeno is going to confess to you. 

Even if the school is burning to the ground or a sinkhole opens below, Lee Jeno will confess his feelings to you by the end of the event. 

But first, he’s going to make the most of tonight with his best friends. 

Nine p.m., and Jeno has not crossed paths with you once. There’s a lot more students in his year than he’d thought. 

“Jaemin!” he hollers into the other’s ear. “I’m gonna go out for a breather!”

Jaemin is too busy dancing the macarena with Donghyuck. 

Jeno squeezes himself past the throng of seniors, repeatedly muttering “excuse me” and “sorry” as he seeks to escape the loud crowd. When he manages to stumble through the exit, he runs into you standing in the hallway with a cookie in your mouth. 

“Eh-noh!” you beam, chewing on the dessert. 

Butterflies erupt in his stomach. “Y/N,” he utters. “What are you doing out here?”

You finish your cookie. “Got too stuffy in there,” you say while dusting the crumbs off your fingers. “I’m guessing it’s the same for you?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shuffling closer to you. Under the dim hallway lights, your eyes shine brighter than the stars. “Uh, wanna go for a walk with me?” 

You smile. “I’d love to.” 

You’re patient, Jeno thinks as the two of you walk to the staircase. He’s been avoiding you for nearly two weeks and yet, you haven’t asked any questions. You don’t pressure him into spilling the beans or confront him about the blatant lies. You understand him, you’re considerate of him, you’ll never make him uncomfortable. Jeno likes that about you. He likes how you and he have opposing qualities that fit like puzzle pieces. He likes how you and he can never run out of topics to converse about. He likes how you and he have a bond that is difficult to severe. 

Most of all, Jeno likes the way you smile at him. 

Oh, he’s so head over heels in love. 

You enter your homeroom, Jeno following suit. Your body moves to the window seat at the very back, glancing outside at the snowing scenery. 

“It’s so pretty,” you say, referring to the white night. “I think winter is my favourite season now.” 

Jeno hums, leaning against the desk. “I still like springtime more. The cold is too difficult.”

You roll your eyes at his response but he catches your small grin. “Of course, flower boy. I wouldn’t expect anything else.” 

Your gaze stays fixated on the falling snow. Jeno finds it hard to look away from you. He drinks in your appearance—from the way your hair flows, to the line of your nose, to the curve of your shoulders. You’re so perfect, carefully crafted by Aphrodite herself. Everything about you is beautiful, more beautiful than anything in the world. If he could, Jeno would build a museum just to display your beauty. 

You finally glimpse at him, tilting your head at his stare. He finds himself getting lost in your eyes. “Jeno? You okay?”

It’s time. 

Jeno is going to confess to you. 

“Y/N, I like you.”

Jeno just confessed to you. 

Your eyes widen and lips part in shock. You furrow your eyebrows at first and then loosen them when you realise he’s telling the truth. Even though the only illumination being provided is the moonlight, Jeno doesn’t miss the way roses bloom on your cheeks. You gulp. “You like me?”

He smiles. “Yeah.” 

“I—” You lick your lips, playing with the fabric of your dress. “This feels like a dream.” 

His heart jumps. “Y/N?”

You refuse to look him in the eyes, opting to stare out the window again—but this time, with a timid expression. “I…I like you too, Lee Jeno.” 

Jeno feels like his heart is about to implode. You like him back. You like him back. 

“Are you serious?” he breathes, stepping closer to you. You fervently nod, still maintaining eye contact with the snowfall. Jeno laughs in relief. You let out a yelp as he envelops you in a soft hug. “I like you so, so much, Y/N.” 

You return his embrace, hands flat against his broad back. “Did you avoid me because you liked me?” 

His breath hitches at your correct assumption. “Y—Yeah. Jaemin suggested I distance myself to figure out my feelings before I come clean.” 

“I was really upset, you know.” You raise your head and pout. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, stroking your head. “How can I make up for it?” 

Your gaze trails from his eyes to his nose to his lips then back to his eyes. You surprise him with your boldness. “If you give me a kiss, I’ll forgive you.” 

Jeno doesn’t need to be asked twice. He gently bumps his lips against yours, cupping your face with both of his hands. Your arms wrap them around his waist, drawing him in closer. You taste sweeter than candy.

Jeno wants to be drunk on this euphoric feeling forever. 

He’s about to deepen the kiss when you break away, face redder than the setting sun. “Too fast. That was my first kiss.” 

“Same.” 

You raise a brow in suspicion. “You were a little too good for this to be your first kiss, Jen.” 

Jeno laughs at your statement, poking your forehead with his pointer finger. “I researched a bit.” (Undisclosed: “I watched the K-Dramas my mom put on TV.”) 

A serene atmosphere settles in the classroom as Jeno and you simply drown in each other’s presence, drinking in the beauty of tonight’s happening. Your hands play with his loose tie and his fingers graze the small sequins sewed to your dress. “Y/N,” he whispers, “will you be my girlfriend?” 

You tug at his tie, bringing him closer. “I’d be stupid to say no.” And you kiss him for the second time. 

Love? It’s always been the feeling that reminded Jeno of his best friend, but now, it’ll only remind him of his girlfriend. 

bonus: the aftermath.

Two days since the friends-to-lovers scenario, and Jeno is walking you home for the first time in nearly three weeks. Not much has changed—the same subway, the same bus, the same pathway. But then again, everything has changed. 

For instance, instead of walking side-by-side with a small distance in-between, Jeno’s left hand is intertwined with your right hand, finding warmth in his jacket pocket. 

Monday’s have never been better. 

“It feels strange to walk with you as a couple now,” you giggle, snuggling into your scarf. “To be frank, I never thought this day would come.” 

Jeno frowns. “Why is that?” 

You blow out a puff of air. “Because you’re popular with all of the girls at school. You know, Jeon Heejin fancied you for quite a while! I was scared you’d like her.” 

He snorts. “I don’t think you have the right to say that when you dated Choi Soobin from Class 3-4.” 

“In my defence, I dated him to get over you! Though, I do feel sorry but I don’t think he liked me that much anyway. He’s dating Hwang Yeji now.” 

Jeno stops walking, to which you automatically halt, and he leans over to steal a kiss. “I’m glad you never got over me, Y/N. I’m only ever going to walk with you for the rest of my life.”

Lee Jeno needs to stop making your cheeks hurt. 

© NABI (2023); ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

taglist | @matchahyuck @lovehowdream @niinjo @jeonnyread @pckeia @dandelionxgal @huangstape @lemarkjun @mosviqu @neosdaisy @haven-cove

#neowritingsnet #kpop #nct #nct u #nct dream #lee jeno #jeno #jeno x reader #series #au #ff #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #scenario #fluff #romance #slice of life

[myndless88]

Absolutely no pressure since I know I already have another ask for you but I'm interested in HideKane for ship ask because I know nothing about them but your love of them is so heartfelt.

Ahh~! I'm glad that you've taken interest in them! It's such a wonderful ship!

Who said “I love you” first Hide--out loud anyway. Kaneki has a bit of trouble expressing his feelings like that.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background Hide would. It'd probably be an embarrassing photo of Kaneki, too.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror Hide. It's always something that will make Kaneki smile. Sometimes it's a sentence from a book Kaneki was telling Hide about, and those really make Kaneki happy because it shows Hide was paying attention.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts Again, Hide. But sometimes Kaneki would retaliate by getting something just as cheesy.

Who initiated the first kiss Kaneki. After one of their usual dates, Kaneki was just so caught up in the moment (while Hide was blabbering about something Kaneki wasn't paying attention to) that he just leaned in and kissed him.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning It's a popular thought in the fandom that Hide is a morning person while Kaneki isn't. But I like to think that Kaneki would be the one to kiss Hide awake.

Who starts tickle fights Hide, but Kaneki would finish them since he's got four extra limbs (rinkaku kagune) for maximum tickling.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower Most of the time it's Hide (more as a joke) but if Kaneki is feeling like he needs to be near Hide, he'll ask.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch Kaneki. Even though he can't taste test his own cooking and the smell would make him gag, he's still the one who mainly cooks (and it comes out pretty good anyway). Plus I like to imagine that the people Hide works with are always surprised that he was able to bag one of the strongest ghouls that was once considered a menace to society.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date To be honest, I'd say both, but Kaneki more so. They've been best friends for a long time, so Kaneki is comfortable around him. But actually dating Hide just makes Kaneki internally combust. Kaneki was chanting "I can't believe we're dating" like a mantra in his head for most of their date.

Who kills/takes out the spiders Kaneki would kill them. One could be across the room and all he has to do is extend one of his rinkaku to smoosh it.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk I think they both would. It's pretty normal for Hide to proclaim his love for Kaneki anyway (even when he's not drunk), so most people don't pay it any attention. But when Kaneki does it, it's always so humorous.

---

I hope you enjoyed reading these as much as I enjoyed answering them!

Ask Me

#Hideyoshi Nagachika #Ken Kaneki #HideKane #Tokyo Ghoul #myndlessresponds

[cornerstoreclown]

Devoted

Summary: This is a short one-shot (2032 words approx.) where the reader (Gender Neutral) is giving Art a blowjob. Yes, the reader is wholly gender neutral, we don’t know what setup they got, nor do we need to know, because they’re only sucking his dick. Men, women, my fellow nonbinary folks like myself and anyone else who in my empty-headedness neglected to mention, this is an ode to you. If this is something that captivates your interest, then I hope you like it. 

Warnings/Contents: Clothed sex, consensual choking, breathplay, blowjobs, face-fucking. The reader is a little twisted like Art. 

Author’s notes: More clothed sex because I want Art in his clothes. This time, there’s a hidden zipper in the front that goes all the way down. I’m playing with his outfit. I love/hate that single clown suit. I love it because it’s nice, I hate it because I want him out of the clothes yet in it.   Up next in the NSFW corner is a male AND female version fic with Art. I’m making a buffet here, and I hope you all will attend if it catches your fancy. Thank you for your continued support! 

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

If your friends found out what you were up to, they’d probably never think of you the same way again. Or maybe they’d expect it from you. Your parents? Whether you talked to them or not, didn’t matter. They also didn’t need to know about this, whether you kept them in your life or not. You know for certain that strangers would find you fucked up in the head, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anyone’s judgment, and the only reason why you kept it quiet that you were frequently intimate with the Miles County Clown from those you did know and trust, is because it would simply be less messy if they didn’t know. 

 You’re sitting on the floor on your knees with his cock in your mouth right now, and by god, it’s the best damn cock you’ve ever had in your life. Art’s a big fellow, he’s surprisingly well endowed, and you’ve been made aware of it from the time you first saw him get hard when he was bashing someone’s brains in and you were there to watch it. You couldn’t stop staring, not at the gore, but at his dick. There was a distinct outline against the black and white of his outfit, and when he was finally done with his victim, you vividly recall offering to tend to him. 

And he let you, all the while covered in bits and smears of formerly living people. You didn’t give a shit–You sucked him off right then and there, zipping down that hidden zipper on the front of his costume and got right to work.

Just like you’re doing now, like your own life depended on it. And maybe in a way, it did. Maybe if you didn’t do a satisfactory job, you’d just be another addition to his kill count. The thought of that creates a sick and twisted churn of excitement in your gut as you’re on your knees before him, the front of his clown suit zipped all the way down so you have access to what’s important. He’s leaning against his workbench, one hand on the table to keep himself grounded. The other hand is on you. On the back of your head. 

You feel the way that his fingers, caked with dried blood, massages at the back of your skull. You find it soothing as you tend to him, wrapping your lips around the length of his shaft and bobbing your head up and down expertly. You pull your head back and give a kiss to the head of his cock, pushing your tongue in around the edges of his foreskin before hungrily lapping the tip of any precome. You glance up at him through your lashes, and you feel the way that his gaze focuses on you. You’re beneath him right now, servicing him, tending to him, like the good self proclaimed lover that you are. 

Judging by how he’s clenching his hand into a fist on top of the table, you’d like to think that you’re doing a mighty fine job. 

Art always knew how to make your toes curl, he knew how to get your eyes to roll to the back of your skull as pleasure would consume you. He knew what made you tick and he often took advantage of that very fact. As cruel as he was, he was caring in his own way, remembering everything about you and what you liked, what you didn’t. Each and every time the both of you went at it, he was always able to deliver you to completion. 

In French, there’s an expression for orgasm. La petite mort–The brief loss or weakening of consciousness. It was a likening post orgasm to the sensation of death. Literally, it translates to ‘the little death’. 

Art’s killed you many times in that regard, then. 

It’s only fair you returned the favor every so often. 

You didn’t use weapons or knives to unwind the threads of him piece by piece. You used yourself. Your body. And he would always look as if he were being tortured all the same, as if you had beaten him and hurt him. 

He’s making the ugliest expression right now–brows furrowed, wrinkles on his face as he holds a snarl with his exposed teeth as you’ve since moved from his cock to his balls, shamelessly dragging your tongue up and down before sucking on the skin of one, all the while using your hand to deftly stroke his length with a pace fast enough to keep him stimulated without pushing him over the edge too soon–which has happened before. He’s gotten a little too excited too quickly in the past. 

You hum to yourself in amusement. 

He’s so pretty like this, at your mercy, weak to his desires, just like every mortal being was. He wasn’t mortal nor from this plane, but to know that he could be humbled in such a rather ordinary way was a relief. It was in these moments that you both could be on a little more of an equal playing ground, despite how you both know that he was so much stronger than you, and you’ve been reminded of it plenty of times in the past during the times he’s choked you, specifically because you asked him to. 

You loved it when he was rough with you, you loved to see just how restrained he could be, and how those hands of his that snuffed out so many lives continue to hold yours so mindfully. It felt like this odd kind of praise without the usage of any words, knowing that you were different. 

Who else could say that they’ve gotten to suck a killer clown’s dick? No one else. Only you. You’re moving from his balls back up to the shaft, leaving lewd little kisses and sucking the tip again, mindful to continue to give him gentle strokes. 

You can’t see his expressions right now–his head is tilted back, he’s clearly in bliss. You’re diligent at your job nevertheless. This is what you loved to do. In another vein, you’ve had some unprompted thoughts manifest in your mind telling you that it’s what you were meant to do. You knew the moment that you laid your eyes on him a few Halloweens ago that you had to have him, and you would, one way or another. You made sure to seek him out each Halloween, expressing your interest to him. It was a long courtship that spanned over years, and you’ve since changed as a person quite a bit with every year, but this part of you–this part has stayed the same. 

He’s hard in your hand, and you can feel the pulse and warmth radiate from him in such a way that you know that you can’t tease him for much longer. When you pull away slightly to get one more look up at him from a better angle, you find yourself stopped as the hand that’s still resting at the back of your skull keeps you from getting too far. 

When you glance up, you see that the clown’s gaze is fixed on you. There’s a recognizable gleam in them that makes your heart skip a bit. 

Maybe the time for teasing was already over, and you just didn't realize it. 

You’re not given any warning as he seizes your head with both hands on each side. No longer was he holding the back of your head, or relying on the table behind him for support. He now has to support himself for what he is intending on doing and you can only go along with it. 

And you’re delighted by that. 

You’re in tune with him to know that when he’s bringing you back to his cock, that you’re supposed to open your mouth, which you obediently do. You open wide enough for him so that when he brings your face back to his groin, you feel him slide all the way back in, only he continues to push his full length in until he touches the back of your throat and you’re holding back a gag. You feel the way that he takes a second to pat the side of your face a couple times. A praise. 

Art looks down upon you, and while you can’t see it as your nose is pressed right to his groin, you can somehow feel it. You can feel how attentive he is at watching you beneath him. You try to move your head back a bit, but he stops you, keeping your face right where it is as you steady yourself. You hold on for as long as you can, your breathing obstructed until you give him a gentle hit to his thigh indicating for him to let you pull back, and he makes you wait another second before relenting. When he slides out of your mouth, you’re gasping for air, desperate to fill your lungs. Art’s only wickedly smiling, teeth bared, delighted in seeing you struggle.

You only get a few breaths before he’s bringing you back in, and you take in the full length of his shaft again. He repeats this a few times until you’re dizzy, but you love it. You love being used, you love being his fucktoy, his mortal plaything, set to his whims and desires, whatever they might be, and even if one day he wanted to rip you apart and tear you into pieces, it would be an honor.

The next time that he allows you to pull away and get oxygen back into your lungs, you’re deepthroating him again, but it’s short lived. Still holding onto your head with his hands, he pushes your head back, then pulls you in, then back. Repeatedly. Until it’s a rhythm. 

You feel the head of his dick hit the back of your throat when during one of those times he meets you with a thrust, and you nearly gag again, tears welling in the corner of your eyes as they’re shut tight. You simply press your hands into both of his thighs and dig your fingers in to keep yourself steady as you let him fuck your face. 

He’s got a steady pace going, and he stops a few times to let you breathe, but it’s becoming increasingly apparent that he’s getting close as he speeds up. You feel the way that drool has been slipping past your lips and dripping down your chin and to the floor beneath you. 

Suddenly, you feel him pull you in one last time, and you brace yourself as he gives one final thrust, and once again you take all of him. A few seconds pass as you’re held there, and you feel the warmth of his release at the back of your throat. You have no choice but to swallow as you feel the seconds ticking by and your breath slowly slipping away. You remain there for as long as you can, even after he’s finished, before you pull yourself back in a coughing and hacking mess. You couldn’t even taste it when it went down. Art allows you to break away, merely watching as you’re recovering, wiping away the tears that were in your eyes, then the drool. 

“Ahh… fuck.” You sigh, giving a single sniffle. You feel the gentle pat of Art’s hand on the top of your head. A job well done. 

You give a weary laugh, glancing upwards at him. 

“Glad you approve.” 

As you feel your body start to settle and wind down, you notice the look in Art’s eyes as he’s making eye contact, then at the rest of your body, then at your eyes again. 

“Art–” 

He leans down, and pushes you in the chest with just enough force that you fall right on your back. It doesn’t hurt, you were already on the ground anyway to begin with. It happens in such a fashion you’re able to not hit your head on the way down.

“Hey!”

As you try and prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, you see that he’s descending over you. 

It’s your turn now, apparently. 

And you feel a flush across your face. 

#art the clown #terrifier #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #coulrophilia #minors DNI #slasher x you #slasher x reader #long post #I wrote this through a first degree burn on my entire arm nothing is stopping me #Not even hot soup #my love for what I do is too great #canon x reader

[keanuquotes]

As Keanu confirms — it started with “Lust,” the title of the seventh song on Dogstar’s Somewhere Between the Power Lines and Palm Trees (releasing October 6), and the first they wrote for the new album. He flashes pages from his spiral-bound notebook, symbols, words, and letters that look more like sanskrit. “The guys call it my hieroglyphics,” he says, of his coded method of keeping track while they’re building a song.

“Sunrise,” the album’s eventual ninth track, came second, and this may be the theme of the whole album, as well as Dogstar’s official return to the music scene after 20 years: warm, bright, hopeful with a heavy dose of pull-at-your-heartstrings nostalgia, as only an authentically alt-rock ‘90s band can do. While internationally their names might not carry the same recognition, within the band, they are the sum of three equally vivid parts: singer-guitarist Bret Domrose, bassist Keanu Reeves, and drummer Robert Mailhouse. It’s this triality that sparks reference to that ancient Greek philosopher who proclaimed the number three the best of all numbers — and the most harmonious.

“I guess it's just who we are. Hey, we're warm people,” Bret jokes with a laugh, and though the ease and deep friendship these three share speaks for itself, the overall grungy-summery sound was actually the overall endgame. Robert credits producer Dave Trumfio for bringing “beautiful, layered, lush, warm tones in combination with what we came up with ourselves.”

“We specifically looked for a vintage Neve mixing console because we wanted that warm, fat '70s sound,” Bret adds, explaining the band’s process of choosing studios based on gear. “Lyrically, I try to keep hope as an undercurrent. Musically…if we go to a dark spot or something, we don't spend too much time there.

“That's just the way we craft songs…with some hope.”

No need to call the new album a comeback. They’ve been plenty busy over the last two decades, keeping in touch and even playing together, as friends — who also happen to be bandmates — do. On this mid-September afternoon, they’re just now back on their Southern California home turf after two shows in Yokohama and Osaka. Ironically, as Bret recalls, it was in Japan where they had their “last” show in 2003, after which they decided to pause. “We came back [from Japan in 2003] and it was just one of those things where we just took a break and then everyone went their own way, different musically, and just expanded and tried different things,” Bret explains. “We always stayed together and we were always friends.”

Time passed and lots changed, namely the industry, and the strengthened climate of artists’ creative control. This time, the guys were determined to be in charge.

“There was just such a machinery that we didn't have to contend with this time,” Bret says, describing the process of creating the new album as a fresh experience. “There was just so much garbage back in the day that now, this time around, we realized, ‘Wow. We could be in charge of this thing. We don't need a record company right now. We can do this all ourselves and we can even release it ourselves, and the music will get heard.’”

This time, Dogstar would focus on the music they wanted to create. “If you're an artist, you're sculpting or painting, you're going to start a new project, you never go, ‘This painting has to be a hit,’” Robert says. “I think all those years that passed really helped in a way because when we got back together, that's exactly what happened. We got into a room and we made sounds, and we started building music without thinking anything other than pleasing ourselves.”

They all agreed: At this stage, they were going to start with songs they liked. They’d create music for themselves. Robert remembers Keanu’s let’s-see-what-happens attitude as a “refreshing” start.

“Roast the chicken and see if it burns,” Bret says with a laugh.

“It's this kind of step-by-step approach…” Robert recalls. “It was like a tasting kitchen...let's try the bouillabaisse.”

“Then at the end, we opened a restaurant,” Bret smiles, carrying the joke.

Keanu leans forward, for emphasis, proclaiming: “Rock ‘n roll!”

“You’ve got the lights…you got the waft of cigarette smoke coming in the back door…it was old-school good times,” Bret says of their July show at The Roxy, “a good, old Hollywood, Sunset Boulevard rock night…you look out five rows into the audience and there’s Steven Tyler dancing. You got that going.”

Their DIY/anti-corporate/non-conformist attitude from the beginning should give a hearty glimpse into why these guys create music. Good. Old Hollywood. Sunset Boulevard. Rock night. That’s Dogstar, in sum, not simply because they were formed in Los Angeles, but because their reputation as a kick-ass live band is eternally fixed, their garage-band inception firmly rooted in their souls and sound.

Keanu agrees that a true garage band is a state of mind. Or heart. “Because we get together and we fucking play music and we start to jam and we start to just play.”

“It’s that same energy, for sure,” Bret agrees. “It's that same energy that you have when you're a kid…when you're starting out and you're doing it for all the right reasons. You don't care if your ears are ringing at the end of the day because you're in too small of a space, your amp is too loud, or whatever it is. All that not caring, that's what makes a good record, I think. That's what makes a cohesion between the band members, too.”

“I think we're a marriage of that,” Keanu says. “Now we're a marriage or an integration of that garage band with caring and trying to keep that spirit of that, but take in our experiences and how we want to care about our music and it works.”

Bret starts: “Yes, I think over the years, we've learned to file off the rough edges a bit and how to use the equipment properly and how to—“

“We're pro now,” Keanu quips, and the guys erupt in laughter.

“We're a pro garage band now!” Bret says.

“The pro garage band,” Keanu says. Everyone is still laughing.

“Thanks to Rob, we have a nicer garage,” Bret says.

From their initial jam sessions up to the actual recording, they’ve managed to preserve that authentically stripped-down “pro garage band” sound on Somewhere Between the Power Lines and Palm Trees. In a world of filters and special effects, they’ve chosen a more honest, old-school route. “Hit songs” are amongst the many words they never mention. “Chart success,” “singles,” and “algorithm” are a few notable others that never come up. That means that the undeniably happy alt-pop riffs on “Everything Turns Around,” as well as the strummy, Manchester-movement-eque “Upside” were unintentional, undeniable (sorry, guys, but someone has to say it) ready-made commercial hits.

And no, not every song sounds like this, that wouldn’t make sense for an album-journey album. “Glimmer” — a moody, swelling alt-serenade — is and should be a live-show staple, its crowd at the ready to sing and sway along with thumb-operated, gas-station-purchased flame lighters.

All that said, the album refreshingly lacks predictability. Take the Eastern-influence break on “Lust,” for instance. “You could hear a sitar…out of nowhere,” Robert says, delightedly, recalling Dogstar’s 1999 performance at the Zee Cine Awards in Mumbai, followed by a “drum-off” on the hotel rooftop, as “the most surreal moment of our lives.” No matter how surreal, there’s no doubt some shred of the experience can be heard on “Lust,” a little over a minute in.

Bret recalls the Eastern-influenced break came out of one of their jam sessions. Keanu looks at his “hieroglyphics” treatise to recount the process, like an ancient scholar: “We have here…we go to Rob's house, there's a verse, and then we go, a disco funk, all-star jam. Then I crossed out “funk,” and then it went to the High A, and then we have the Indian [break] put in there. That's, I guess, where Bret started to go into the Indian influence of holding that A and the tension there…”

Somewhere Between the Power Lines and Palm Trees ends with “Breach,” an unapologetic grinder — to use Bret’s words — “a punctuation mark” at the end of this here-comes-the-sun album journey. This is not the hearts-and-flowers sendoff. It’s more of the wake-the-fuck-up-people sendoff. As Robert says, “we digged in a little harder.” Bret explains that they intentionally ended this journey — the album journey — this way.

“It’s a bit of fun cold water,” Keanu says. “It’s a cliffhanger.”

“This genre, it's a lost thing. If you listen to the radio, things are so different now,” Robert says, describing Dogstar as “just three guys playing their instruments…it's not that complicated…it's not the mainstream anymore like it used to be.”

Through the decades, and after all they’ve been through, they’re idealistic. And you can feel it on the album – raw human emotion, the same that inspired them in their early years. “You can't trick people into believing you,” Bret says, after a passionate citing of some of his most influential musical imprints: Hüsker Dü, the Clash, Elton John.

Honest and inspired, Somewhere Between the Power Lines and Palm Trees fully reflects these three guys, the stories of their lives over the last three decades, and exactly who they are.

“Rock is what keeps you young,” Bret says. “30 years times three guys' lives…that's 90 years of living. That's a lot of shit that could happen, that did happen. It ain't all good and it ain't all bad, but it's all in these songs. It sounds hippie-dippy corny, but there's a little bit of every year of our lives in these songs, I think. In that sense, [it’s] a mature endeavor.”

“This is who we are now,” Keanu says. “We're all over 50. I think to what Robert was saying…the influences that we have are coming through us into how we interpret, but also what we create in the moment. I think that's individually and collectively…that's what Dogstar is. It's like all of these personal things and then us collectively coming out with this music that would not happen if it wasn't the three of us.

“Individually, none of us would write a Dogstar song, but collectively, with who we are as artists and who we are, when we all come together and start to make music together…the sum of the parts is Dogstar.”

#keanu reeves #dogstar band #it started with “Lust

[petri808]

Day 7 @flufftober “fairy lights” Twiyor family AU drabble, Modern AU not canon

It’s not uncommon by the time children reach their teenage years for them to start preferring to hang out with friends over family time. But there is one thing that Anya had not grown out of yet, a special family outing they did each June when the fire flies came around.

They’d pack up a bunch of food and a big ‘ole blanket to relax on, then head over to a large park with a stream running through at sunset located far outside of the city. The air at that time of year was always a comfortable warmth, with little chance of rain, and clear open skies. Sort of the calm before the later summer storms rolled in.

They’d set up their blanket on a shorter patch of wild grasses to watch the sun setting while they eat dinner. An electric lantern provided a mellow glow. Conversations are light as each talk about their day or other topics. Loid talked about a new patient at the hospital he was helping and Yor about a new job she’d be starting in a week. It’s the first she’s had since they adopted their daughter.

Anya chattered about a movie her and her friends has seen the previous day, but mostly about school. At Eden Academy, the academics are brutally competitive, but were tolerable with her best friend, Becky Blackbell, at her side. Anya was also excited about it being her last term of 3rd year middle school. The two girls were looking forward to moving onto high school together along with the proms and annual excursions they’ll be taking.

“We’re supposed to go to Somisomi tomorrow for ice cream,” Anya told her parents. “Becky’s gonna pick me up at 11.”

“You sure?” Yor questioned. “I can drop you off.”

“Nah, it’s okay mom. Their driver—,” Anya sat up from laying on her back. “Sweet! The fire bugs are starting!”

Yor and Loid sat up as well. “So, they are.”

Anya laid back down with her head resting on her arms behind her head. “I wonder why they only come out during summer here?”

“Well,” Loid began, “in Japan some say they’re the ancestors returning to this world.“

“For Obon season?” Anya asked.

“Yeah.” Loid confirmed. “It’s a Shinto belief.”

“But there’s other folklore,” Yor added. “Didn’t I tell you about the fairy lights when you were little?”

Anya’s face scrunched as she thought hard. “Mmm, I don’t remember very well.”

Yor leaned back on her hand while pointing at a few fire bugs gently floating around the family. “In ancient times, people thought fire bugs were ethereal creatures, like fairies and the light they emit carried messages of love.”

“Fairy light,” Anya giggled. “I guess that makes sense.”

“There’s a story,” Yor continued, “of a fire fly princess who proclaimed they would marry the first suitor who could bring them fire. So, prince, after prince from creature kingdoms all throughout the lands tried to procure fire to win her hand, but all die in the process. This also lead to some equating fire flies as the carriers of a star-crossed lovers wishes. Finally, a fire fly prince from a nearby kingdom heard of the princesses proclamation and declared that he will win her hand. So, he marches over heading a battalion of soldiers, shining bright in all their lighted glory. The princess is so delighted to have found the one to bring her such a marvelous flame that they marry and live happily ever after.”

“Aww,” Anya rolls onto her side to face her parents. “That’s so sweet even though all those other princes were dumb to die for a princess.”

“I don’t know,” Loid teased and poked Yor’s shoulder. “I’d die for your mom.”

“Loid!” Yor blushed and slapped his shoulder back in jest.

“Why am I not surprised.” Anya laughed, then tapped her chin. “Maybe I’ll use this on Damian, tell him to bring me a flame to win my hand.”

“You’ll likely scare him away instead,” Loid teased. “That boy’s a bit wea…”

“Don’t!” Anya wagged a finger at her father, cutting him off knowing how he liked to tease her crush. “I know what you’re gonna say and I think—” Just as she’s about to defend Damian, a fire bug landed on finger, yet despite her shaking it doesn’t let go.

Yor chuckled, “Maybe Damian just sent you his message of love.”

#flufftober 2023 #twiyor #twiyor drabble #twiyor fanfic #damianya #hinted #unedited #petri808

[zeebreezin]

6, 8, 10 for B for the trauma asks??

Freddie calm down!!! Know peace!!

6. What’s their greatest fear?

I actually answered this for another ask game & still like my answer, so! Reposting it here:

B’s greatest fear is… their past. Though they have near total amnesia concerning their time on the Grand Geode, there’s a lot of things that drag those memories back up - the smell of the Zee, mechanical diagrams, bright lights… - and the brief flashes that surface are all laced with a truly terrifying blend of fear and longing. Essentially, B’s developed as many excuses to never have to be exposed to things that dredge those emotions up - their self proclaimed fear of the zee, for example. They hide from remembering as best they can, and harshly deny any memories that do come back as their own in order to try and squish the yearning (and burning) before it can take hold. Whatever they forgot - they forgot it for a reason.

Expanding on this a little bit, B’s fear of their past isn’t just tied to the yearning burning, it’s also tied to their general desire for freedom. Whoever they used to be isn’t who they are now, and so the idea of being defined by that (or others defining them by that) is something that’s… pretty complicated for B. Overall they don’t want to be confined, and everything that they’ve been able to glean from vague memories of their past just makes that desire worse.

8: Are they trusting or do they refuse to trust?

B’s generally pretty trusting, though not to the extent that I’d consider them naive. Their amnesia is pretty much the only thing they keep close to the chest. Emotionally they’re quite honest with people, and they dislike having to hide their intentions from people they care about - for better or worse, there’s a reason they’re the Reckless Playwright.

10: How do their friends and family think of them?

Family? B doesn’t have a blood family, not anymore. None of their relatives think about them in that manner - actually, none of their relatives think of them at all, anymore. It’s a heavy mark to bear, having a deserter under your name. People don’t speak their name back at home. Their family have chosen to forget. The person they were never existed - though the Penumbral Renegade is a name discussed with clear hatred.

As for past friends, well… we’ve all seen how Beverley is. His feelings are complicated, a mixture of not-quite-hatred and grief. They were his best friend, his first love, and he really doesn’t know how to deal with their absence. More than anything, Bev wants to bring B back home - but even he’s not sure if that’s the right thing to do anymore.

That’s not to say no one considers B family, though - Shaw definitely does, in his own way, considering them someone very dear to his heart if… a little bit much to handle sometimes. Current friends think generally highly of B, too!! Their life doesn’t totally suck I swear,

#zeeposting #b #august shaw #officer beverley #best and brightest #detective duo #I promise B’s life doesn’t suck total ass #you just picked mean questions!!!! cruelty!!!!!!!! (hahahah)

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Top!Luke Masterlist

7-Eleven (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) Luke/Ashton T, 74k

Summary: Ashton Irwin is a master of thievery. He steals from general stores, food markets, jewelry shops, museums, and people's homes. Never once did he get caught nor did anyone find out his identity. He loves being a thief. Stealing is his addiction, and he has no intention on curing it.

However, there is one place and one place alone that he does not steal from, and that's the 7-Eleven at the corner street. He goes in late at night to buy things for himself and to see a boy who works during that time named Luke Hemmings.

Better Than FIFA? (ao3) - emiliathegreat (puckdummy) Michael/Luke E, 2k

Summary: Hotel nights on tour are usually a blessing, but with all the shit Luke's been facing lately, it's exactly the opposite. Michael isn't one to help, either.

black is the colour (of my true love's hair) (ao3) - hemmingscliffords Michael/Luke E, 2k

Summary: His eyes graze over Luke's ash blonde hair, the multitude of colours from various batches of highlights that their stylists have given him over the past year, the butterscotch coloured roots that are growing in from not upkeeping it, and out of nowhere Michael thinks that holy shit, Luke would look awesome with black hair. Maybe an ebony colour that had a midnight blue washed through it.

Burned By Love (ao30 - JcLoveex (orphan_account) Luke/Ashton T, 3k

Summary: "I don't think you do babe, I think you're lying." Luke smirked lightly, even though his pants were so fucking tight. "Are you lying Ashton? You don't want me to fuck you, you want that guy to fuck you don't you? You want him to spread you open and fuck you senseless don't you? Want him to eat your ass and call you those names you love so much while you ride his tongue, don't you Ash?"

Or the one where Luke has to remind Ashton who he belongs to.

Club of Misfits (ao3) - felixandtae Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum T, 274k

Summary: ❝Everyone has flaws. You me, Michael and Ashton - we’re all just a club of misfits.❞

A club for those who need a friend created by two best friends.

Daisy (ao3) - boomerluke Luke/Ashton M, 121k

Summary: The last thing Luke expects when he wakes up hungover in the bed of his latest one-night stand is to come face to face with a freaking kid. But there she is all wild curls, thumb-sucking, and nonstop questions. Luke can't get out of there fast enough.

Ashton isn't the type to have one-night stands. He's a parent, after all. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again. At least that's what he tells himself when he comes back from his shower to find the naked college kid still in his bed, arguing with Daisy.

They couldn't be more opposites. At 25, Ashton has the responsibilities of two parents, raising his daughter and trying to pretend like he has everything figured out. At 21, Luke is a self-proclaimed Grindr god who doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. So why is the universe (with the help of Michael and Crystal) so hell-bent on seeing them together?

do it better (ao3) - lourrygum OT4 N/R, 8k

Summary: takes place during the time michael lost his passport and was stuck in the US while his band performed in the UK. He feels upset about it and stops answering their calls and may or may not unfollow them on twitter, leading to questions and anxiety.

or, 3/4 of 5sos go to the US to see michael and end up fucking him senseless.

English Love Affair (ao3) - takeitoffhemmo Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton E, 21k

Summary: Where Luke can't write an essay and maybe falls in love with his sort of tutor

FutureSex/LoveSounds (ao3) - Migs Luke/Calum, Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton E, 47k

Summary: Luke is Med student/camboy with a crush on the Footie captain with a secret.

OR: Cake have a lot of hot sex for money whilst trying to pursue romantic relationships with other boys.

i think they're cute, though (ao3) - cliffakitten Luke/Ashton E, 2k

Summary: Honestly, there should be some kind of warning for shit like this: Your amazing, adorable boyfriend has recently bought glasses and looks fit as fuck, you're going to want to do unspeakable, dirty things to him. Please attempt to control your imminent hard on. -- Or Ashton has new glasses and Luke really wants to fuck him in them.

No Chance (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) Michael/Luke T, 72k

Summary: So Ashton's going on a road trip with his friend, Calum, and he invited me to tag along. Being the adventurous shit I am, I said yes, but I wouldn't have if I knew that Luke Hemmings was going as well. God, I hate that guy, and the feeling's mutual. Why does that annoying brat have to come along? And Ashton and Calum expect us to be friends? Yeah, right. There's no chance that Luke Hemmings and I, Michael Clifford, are ever going to get along.

passionately curious (ao3) - cliffakitten Luke/Ashton E, 17k

Summary: 'Luke Hemmings'

At this, he nearly choked for the second time that morning, since he just happened to know someone with that name. That someone being, his next door neighbour, the very hot neighbour, who Ashton may or may not have a huge crush on.

Yeah, that Luke Hemmings. Who apparently orders sex toys online...who knew? Definitely not Ashton.

Princess getting naked (ao3) - ShortIsNotFun Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum N/R, 6k

Summary: Luke hemmings was the boy everyone wanted and that was obvious. Any time he walked in a room all eyes were on him and he loved it, loved the attention. But he never gave anyone his attention for more than maybe five minutes before he ruled them out as utterly dull and walked away, he simply got bored of everyone quickly. Except for the one boy who never seemed to notice him, the boy who seemed clueless. Ashton Irwin.

Or

Luke's kind of a dick and Ashton sucks his

Reflections (ao3) - punchinginadream Luke/Ashton M, 4k

Summary: Ashton doesn't like his body. Luke decides to fuck him in front of a mirror to show him how beautiful he really is.

Requited (ao3) - orphan_account Luke/Ashton E, 18k

Summary: "You’re the prettiest boy in the whole wide world, don’t you know that?”

Surprisingly, Ashton giggles a little. “There are at least a gazillion people in the world, Lukey… you haven’t seen all of them.”

“I don’t need to,” Luke insists with a shrug. “You’re prettier than all of them, I just know it. And even when you’re sad, you’re still the prettiest to me.”

Or, Ashton just wants to be pretty. Luke shows him that he already is.

The best kind of trouble (ao3) - CliffordAffliction Michael/Luke E, 71k

Summary: After Michael is sent to a strict Preparatory school he meets the school troublemaker, Luke Hemmings, and his world begins to change

The Bodyguard (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum M, 138k

Summary: Ashton Irwin is a hot and famous celebrity that all the people love, look up to, or despise. He's cocky, selfish, and always puts himself before others. Despite his personality, he's pretty much wanted by everyone in the world.

But when things escalate to the point that Ashton nearly gets kidnapped, his manager assigns a boy named Luke Hemmings to become Ashton's personal bodyguard, much to the star's reluctance and annoyance.

Now Luke follows Ashton wherever he goes to make sure he's safe from any danger, but Ashton is determined to get rid of his bodyguard as soon as possible.

Without You (ao3) - ofmonstersandmayhem Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum M, 67k

Summary: Nothing made Ashton happy anymore.

He was slowly drifting away.

Everyday he prayed for a savior. He had the tiniest sliver of hope in the back of his mind that someone would come and save him from all this darkness.

His prayers were answered in the form of a tall blonde boy with a lip ring. But was he able to save Ashton in time?

(or the cliche fic where Ashton's depressed with an abusive father but when Luke Hemmings moves into the neighborhood, his dark clouds open up to reveal a sunshine)

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #luke hemmings #top!luke #top!luke masterlist #masterlists #smut #sex tw

[elliot-needs-sleep]

just thinking about the fact that benchtrio + purpled don’t have healthy adult figures to look up to and must have some sort of distrust towards adults wanting to treat them kindly and cherish them without something in return and at some point must want to fuck with every adult that tries to coddle them. like baking horribly overcooked cookies and giving them to adults fully expecting them to spit them out and try miserably at making it seem like they enjoyed those overcooked to hella and back cookies. purposefully messing up said adult’s home when they’re forced invited to stay over to be safe. all that jazz. eventually adults give up and settle for being distant friends and then reader comes along.

reader who eats those overcooked cookies and treats them like they’re the best sweets in the world, who lets them be independent while offering support and not trying to convince them to follow a certain ideal. reader who gives them space to decorate their own room to stay in, a silent invitation if they need a place to stay. i just want to spoil those 4 but i know they’re from a world of favors and being in debt to people so they wouldn’t be trusting and okay with being coddled by me so i’d settle for subtle coddling and promises of help if it’s needed.

yours truly,

gremlin anon

Gremlin, you're a genius. Also, this is the first time I've actually included Purpled in a fanfic for real, mostly because I ran off the assumption that he wasn't comfortable with fanfiction at all, but apparently he's okay with it as long as it's about his dsmp self and isn't 'weird' as he put it.

Parental Figure

Fic Type: Short form?

Characters: Tommyinnit, Tubbo, Ranboo, Purpled

Fandom: Dream SMP

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

Tommy wasn't a great cook.

In his defence, it's not like anyone ever taught him besides Niki, and even she didn't really have time for him. He learnt everything by himself or with a bit of help from Phil and Wilbur.

So when he gave you burnt cookies as a welcome gift, he completely expected you to put on a fake smile and throw them away like all of the other adults he made cookies for. But you didn't do that.

You had smiled at him as if he had given you netherite, and you actually ate a cookie in front of him, proclaiming it was delicious and putting the rest of them in a cookie jar for later.

That... That was new to him. No one had seemed so genuine about his baking before. Even when he came back to sneak some iron the next day while you were out, he noticed the cookies were still in the jar, with some new crumbs on the counter. You were still eating them? That was also new to him.

Who were you?

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

Tubbo and Ranboo thought that trusting anyone else usually meant getting stabbed in the back or being used. Usually that went for all the adults, Puffy, Niki, Fundy and Sam being the only real exceptions to that. So when Micheal had run off, and you had found him and brought him back, they were instantly suspicious.

"I remembered Tommy had mentioned that you two had a tiny piglin named Micheal, so when I found him I tried to find your base, but then it became night and I tried to ask Tommy where to go but he wasn't answering, so I ended up running into Techno and asking HIM if he knew where to go, and he lead me through the nether, and I'm so sorry I didn't have him back sooner." You had rambled, clearly stressed out as Micheal was making happy noises in Ranboo's arms.

You had brought him back, with no ulterior motives, and were APOLOGIZING for not knowing where you were going. Tommy had told them about you, and they had ran into you in the past. He had said you were nice.

Tubbo ran off to rummage through an ender chest, handing you a few diamonds.

"Thank you."

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

Purpled was very used to trashing peoples bases so they would stop trying to help him. They always invited him to stay over and was never prepared for him to actually take the offer when needed. So he stopped taking them.

That was, until he showed up at your house in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm.

You had quickly ushered him in and out of the cold rain, leading him into your kitchen.

"I have a pair of Tubbo's clothes here, they'll probably fit you if you want?" You offered, and you went to go grab them once he nodded, shivering slightly.

"I've also got a spare room for you." He was expecting a small, hastily made room that was shared by everybody else.

What he was NOT expecting was you to lead him down a short hallway, to a door that had his name on it. When he opened the door, it was a bit empty, with a bed and a few chests.

"I wanted you to decide how to decorate. You're always welcome here, by the way. You can come in through the window, too, if you don't want to talk to me. Even if I'm not here." You left him with a small smile, heading back to your own room.

He slept soundly that night for the first time since he joined the server.

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

You helped teach Tommy how to bake and cook a bit better, always happy to taste test his recipes.

You babysat Micheal whenever needed, you brought books and toys for him and brought food for Tubbo and Ranboo when you noticed them running a bit low, all with promises that you'd made a bit extra and weren't going to eat it.

You helped Purpled with anything he came to you with, even if it was just ensuring he had a safe place to sleep.

You were giving them new hope in people. And that was new to them too.

#elliotiswriting #gremlin anon #dsmp #dsmp x reader #dsmp tubbo #dsmp ranboo #dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #dsmp tommy #dsmp purpled #c! tommy #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #c!purpled #ranboo #purpled #platonic x reader #x reader

[banannabethchase]

Steady Love - also on AO3

~

Adam, with Nick as his roommate, starts off his sophomore year of college with a crush, actual friends and a whole lot of shenanigans. He ends it with, somehow, more.

~

Welcome to my 300th fic on AO3! I decided to combine elements of my 1st, 100th, and 200th fic on AO3 to create this one, and thus, a college AU involving 5 of my all time favorite ships across 3 of my most special fandoms. I hope you enjoy this continuation of The Rumor of Us for those of us who remember me from back then, and the continuation of the Quintis College AU I briefly wrote. Title from Look After You by The Fray, one of my all time favorite romantic songs.

~

“Page!”

Adam turns to see Nick throwing the basketball at him. He catches it and dribbles around the other team’s defense, which isn’t that impressive knowing who the defense is, and shoots.

The ball bounces off the rim and toward Nick, who makes the save and a three pointer.

“Yes!” Nick yells, dropping to his knees with his fists in the air. “I’m the effing king of this!”

Adam walks over and shoves Nick to the side with his foot. “Lucky shot,” Adam says, grinning down at him.

“Was not!” Nick scrambles to his feet. “I’ve been practicing my three pointers all summer.” He nudges Adam in the shoulder. “Anyway, we’re basically out of time for the gym. We only booked an hour.”

Adam checks the time on his phone. “Damn it,” he mutters.

“Are we done or something?” Toby asks. “Please say we’re done.”

“Wimp,” Happy says, grinning. “You don’t have to play next time, you know. I think I’d do better if you weren’t on my team”

“I do have to play!” Toby says, scrambling after Happy as she steps toward her bag on the side of the court. Adam’s kind of baffled he missed the insult entirely. “I have to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Toby, let’s be real here,” Happy says. “The only reason I play basketball is because you made me socialize with people other than you and the rest of the Cyclone, and you decided your roommate’s weird brother was the right call. You’re just mad I’m doing better with these friends than you are.”

Toby pouts. “Hey!”

“And I am not the weird one here,” Nick says.

“Bye, y’all,” Happy says, grinning over her shoulder. “C’mon, Curtis, to the showers.”

Adam rolls his eyes as Toby’s pout turns into unshielded excitement. They scamper away.

“They’re really weird,” Adam muses, dribbling the ball absently. “I like them.”

“Right?” Nick says. “Toby’s a TA, but he’s our age. He skipped a bunch of grades.”

“That explains some of the,” Adam shoots the ball and misses, pausing to find the right words, “socially awkward moments.”

“No kidding,” Nick says. He chases after the ball and chucks it back at Adam, who manages to make the three pointer this time. “There you go, dude. I knew you could do it.”

“It’s because he’s tall.”

Adam turns at a voice that makes his entire body light up. “Matt!” he says, trying to hold back before getting too weird. “Hi.”

Nick glances over at his brother. “What the eff are you doing here?” he asks, bouncing the ball. Adam fights the urge to tell him to shut up.

“You always make fun of me for not being able to play,” Matt says. He looks incredible; Adam’s never seen him in basketball shorts and a tank top. “So I figured I’d come and learn from the self-proclaimed best this year.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “You have awful timing. We only rented the court until five.”

Matt shrugs. “So, like, rent another hour?”

“That’s not how it works.” Nick belts Matt with the basketball, and Adam is impressed that Matt at least can catch it. He doesn’t dribble though. He just holds it in his hands. “Somebody else will have rented it out.”

“We could ask to share,” Matt says. With a quick flick of his eyes, he chucks the ball in Adam’s direction. Adam has to jump a little, feeling his shirt fly up as he does do, but he manages to catch the ball.

“You can’t – Matt, go away.”

“No!” Adam says. Matt and Nick look at him. “I mean, we could go to the outdoor hoops, right?”

“It’s ninety seven degrees outside,” Nick deadpans. “Let’s just go do something else.”

“Can I shower first?” Adam asks, wrinkling his nose. “I’m all gross.”

“I’m sure you’re fine,” Matt says, waving him off. “Dining hall should be serving dinner by now.”

“It’s five o’clock,” Nick says. “We – really?”

Matt shrugs. “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” Adam adds.

Nick sighs. “Whatever. Fine. Dinner.”

“I hope they have the pasta bar this time,” Matt says. And Adam knows, in that moment, with that smile Matt throws him, he’s doomed.

Matt flounces off to the pasta bar, almost skipping.

“Dude,” Nick says, elbowing Adam. “What is your deal?”

“Deal?” Adam asks, trying to keep himself from blushing. “There’s no deal. I’m – why?”

Nick stares at him. “You’ve hung out with Matt before and never been this twitchy.” He study’s Adam’s face. “Do you have a crush on my brother?”

“No.”

Nick’s expression goes from curious to annoyed. “You have a crush on my brother,” he says, definitively. “Oh, my god.”

“I – don’t!” Adam says. “And shush.”

“If you don’t have a crush on him, then I can say it as loud as I want.”

“No!” Adam says. “Damn it. Just – don’t tell him.”

“Are you gonna tell him?” Nick asks.

Adam presses his lips together and shrugs. “Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t…yeah.”

Nick sighs so deeply his shoulders slump. “If you make him cry, I have to kill you, you know that, right?”

“What?” Adam asks. “I’m your roommate!”

“Roommate and friend always comes second to brother,” Nick says, shrugging. “It’s biological. I am genetically wired to care about that dumbass.”

They look over, where Matt is very possibly flirting with the cook making the pasta, from the way he’s smiling and leaning against the counter. Adam can’t decide if he’s jealous or distracted by how good Matt’s butt looks in his shorts.

“Believe me,” Nick says, grabbing a slice of pizza, “I am the most annoyed about it.”

They grab some extra fruit and vegetables, because Adam’s mom’s voice is always in his head, and they find a small table near the hydroponics station.

“You ever get tempted to, like, grab a leaf of lettuce off of there and eat it?” Nick asks, shoving half the slice of pizza in his mouth.

Adam blinks. “No, but I am sort of fascinated at your impulse to eat public leaves.”

“They’re not public leaves!” Nick scoffs. “It’s lettuce grown by the college, and I pay tuition, so they are my leaves.”

Adam nearly stops breathing when Matt sits down next to him, like he doesn’t care Adam’s covered in sweat and his hair is a wreck. His heart is racing as Matt flashes him a smile.

“The pasta guy is really nice,” Matt says, mixing what appears to be something with vegetables and pesto. He shoves a giant forkful in his mouth and makes a face so pleased Adam has to turn away and take an unreasonably huge bite of pizza. “And he gave me extra pesto.”

“Yeah, because you were flirting with him,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re worse than Piper at that one party.”

“Am not!” Matt argues.

“The one when she stole all that toilet paper last year?” Adam asks, once he’s swallowed the pizza. “That was hilarious.”

“I was not flirting with him,” Matt says, and Adam doesn’t miss the way he flicks his eyes toward him. “Shut up. Eat your pizza, Nick.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Adam snickers as the two of them bicker back and forth, finishing most of his plate before they get under control. Matt’s got his lower lip stuck out, Nick’s glaring, and Adam, mostly, is entertained.

“Are you two done?” he asks, because he wants to know what happens next.

~

By the start of September, Matt’s been to every single basketball court hour that they’ve had, and Adam is…technically handling it. The amount of times Matt has pulled off his shirt mid-game and Adam either missed a pass or immediately fell over is in the double digits.

He’s regaling his friends in class with the most recent story of Matt making a moaning noise during stretching when Annabeth and Piper both begin laughing at him mid-lecture, which feels excessive.

“Oh you legit like him,” Piper says, with a sharkish grin. “Pro tip? Act on it now. Otherwise you’re fucked like me and Reyna for the first semester of school.”

“Based on what I’ve heard before I’ve knocked,” Annabeth says, flipping to the right page in her notes, “nobody fucks like the two of you, but okay.”

Adam laughs as Piper rolls her eyes and slumps into her seat. “You all suck,” she grumbles.

They pass notes and tease each other through the lecture, which Adam would feel bad about but he scored a 95% on the first anthropology test and was only outscored by Annabeth, so he figures he’s fine.

Annabeth pokes him in the ribs when he snickers at a sex joke Piper makes.

“They’re going to hear you,” Annabeth says, scrolling her phone with one hand and taking notes with the other. “He’s not even using a mic now. And I really don’t want to get yelled at.”

“You’re on your phone looking up – oh, my god.” Adam leans back. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you putting lingerie in your cart.”

Annabeth smirks and shrugs. “Don’t look at my phone screen next time.”

By the time class is over, Adam knows he’ll be begging Annabeth for a copy of her notes, but he’s in good spirits to go for their basketball time.

“I gotta go,” he says, smiling at the two of them. “Basketball hour, you know.”

Piper immediately starts making kissy faces.

“It’s just basketball!” Adam says, suddenly wishing his hair was down to cover his likely pink ears. “He needs help with it.”

“You know what he needs?” Piper says, grinning.

“Don’t say it,” Annabeth says. “It’s a cheap joke.”

“He needs your dick.”

Annabeth and Adam sigh in tandem while Piper cackles.

“One of these days I’m going to tell on you to Reyna,” Annabeth grumbles.

“About what?”

“Bad sex jokes,” Adam offers. “Making fun of me.”

Piper scoffs. “She likes it when I do that. Reyna loves my stupid jokes.”

“Yeah, if you guys do go abroad,” Annabeth asks, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder, “you’ll have to learn a whole new language to make sex jokes in.”

Piper wrinkles her nose. “Reyna really wants to, but I’m not sure. She’s looking at France.”

“I’m sure there’s sex jokes in French,” Adam says, shoving his books in his backpacks. “Or you could just say ‘oui oui’ all the time and look like a dork.”

“Coming from you, that’s great.” Piper hits him on the arm with her notebook, grinning. “Go play homoerotic sports with your future boyfriend.”

~

The first set of tests by the second week of September hit, and Adam realizes he has a little collection of friends that makes him feel cozy, but a bit confused. He’s not exactly sure when his and Nick’s dorm room became the place where everybody hangs out, but he keeps trying to hide things like his teddy bear and his dirty clothes while Kenny and Piper try to kill each other in Street Fighter.

What’s even more difficult to manage, though, is Matt, sitting right next to him. On his bed. While Nick keeps glancing at him. Adam thinks that’s silly, because Happy and Toby are quite literally making out on top of his desk.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Reyna asks, yawning. “She and I have that Chem lab in the morning and I really want to go over our methodology.”

“Lame,” Piper says, twisting the controller and immediately killing Kenny’s character. Adam thinks that’s impressive, based on Kenny’s shriek of horror. “She and Percy are out on a date. She’ll be back soon.”

Reyna sighs. “She forgot to tell me. Jerk.”

“That’s because I was supposed to tell you, and I forgot, because I’m beating this wimp’s ass at every video game possible,” Piper says. She claps Kenny on the shoulder. “Actually, victory makes me horny. Reyna?”

Reyna snorts, but she jumps to her feet. “Why did I expect anything else?”

Piper throws a grin over her shoulder, short blue hair flying everywhere. “Later, nerds.”

Kenny’s still staring at the screen, open mouthed and miserable. “She beat me,” he says, horrified. He turns to Nick. “Why’d you – I brought my console here just so she could beat me?!”

“Piper’s weird, man,” Happy says, shrugging as she pulls away from Toby. Toby still looks super dazed. “Blame Adam. He’s the one who became best friends with her first or whatever.”

“Hey!” Adam says. He’s still trying to deal with the fact that Matt is pressed up against him. “She’s your friend, too.”

“That is beside the point,” Nick says, sliding to the floor. “Scoot over, Kenny. You can beat me.”

“It’s not the same if you let me beat you,” Kenny grumbles. “But, since you suck, I’d beat you anyway.” He hands Nick the controller.

“Hey, Hap?” Toby says, playing with the edge of her tee shirt. Adam rolls his eyes, meeting Matt’s in a knowing grin.

“What?”

“Your roommate’s out, right?”

She snickers. “God, you’re predictable.” She waves at them. “Later, everybody.”

The room is quieter, less intense now that it’s only the four of them, and Adam can feel Matt relax into his side. Nick and Kenny are fervently battling each other. Adam feels like this is a good moment. For what, he’s not sure.

“So,” Adam says, picking at a frayed end on the hem of his shirt. “How’re classes going for you?”

“Great!” Matt says, sending that megawatt smile in Adam’s direction. “Well. Pretty good, at least.”

“Only pretty good?” Adam asks.

“Yeah, math is kicking my butt,” Matt says, sighing. “I’m an ed major, so I have to take a class on how to teach math, which would probably be fine if I could memorize all the stupid vocabulary words.”

“I, um. I can tutor you, if you want.”

Matt turns to him. “You can?”

Adam nods. “I had a whole business in high school about it, but you’re my friend so I wouldn’t charge.” He smiles. “That sound good?”

Matt nods so hard his ponytail slips out. “Yeah!”

Adam leans behind.

“What are you doing?” Matt asks. He’s still smiling, though, so Adam thinks he’s in the clear.

“Oh,” Adam says, picking up the hair tie. “This fell out when you were nodding.”

Matt flushes the cutest pink Adam’s ever seen. “Thanks,” he says. Adam watches, probably too closely, as Matt ties his hair back up.

“So, um, how about tomorrow morning?” Adam asks. When he rests his hand on the bed next to Matt’s, the dip of the mattress makes his hand slide on top of Matt’s. Neither of them move. “For tutoring, I mean.”

Matt nods. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Nick flicks his gaze over at Matt and Adam, frowns, and opens his mouth. But Kenny’s screaming in victory before he can say anything.

“Oh, that’s how it goes, baby!” Kenny yells. “Victory doesn’t make me horny, but it does make me hungry. Anybody want to go pick up pizza?”

They do. They get pizza and sodas and bring them back to the dorm room. Kenny and Nick hang in Nick’s bed while Matt’s with Adam on his.

Adam feels like he may just combust.

They put on Five Nights at Freddy’s, which Kenny insists will be good because of the game it’s based on, but Adam’s a little hesitant.

“They’re giant toys, Kenny,” Adam says. “How could they possibly be scary?”

An hour later, Adam is more than pleased that it’s actually scary, because Matt’s buried his face into Adam’s chest and is halfway in his lap. He exchanges a glance with Nick. And gets a smile back.

Kenny and Matt sleep over. And Adam thinks this might be what college is supposed to feel like.

~

Matt and Kenny leave after they get breakfast in the morning, but Matt reminds Adam of their tutoring date before he leaves.

“I’ll stop by around one?” Matt asks. “You know. Since we slept in.”

Adam nods. “Yeah, I gotta shower.”

Matt makes an interesting face, pressing his lips together. “Okay.”

Nick grabs his arm and yanks. “Dude!”

“What?!”

“You are in love with my brother.”

“Am not!”

Nick yanks harder.

“Ow!”

“You like him,” Nick says. “You like Matt. I know how weird you are about your bed, and you let him sleep on your pillow.”

Adam frowns. “I’m not weird about my bed.”

“You have to remake it every time you sit on it funny and you change the pillow case every time somebody touches it.”

Adam stops in his tracks and turns to Nick. “You noticed that?”

“Of course I did,” says Nick. “You’re my friend. It’s why I tell people, usually, to stay off your side of the room and not to touch your folders on your desk. But Matt walked in there and sat down, and you didn’t even react.”

Adam opens his mouth, but then steps forward and grabs Nick in a tight hug. “Nobody’s ever noticed that and been nice about it before,” he says, words muffled by Nick’s shoulder.

“Course, man,” Nick says, patting him on the back. “You’re my best friend.”

Adam won’t let himself cry. “I am?”

Nick nods, like it’s the easiest thing to say, to believe. “You are.”

Adam exhales. “Even though I have a crush on your brother?”

“I knew it!”

Adam laughs and runs back to their dorm with Nick chasing him, feeling at home with a group of people for the first time ever.

~

Around 1:05, Nick’s left for reasons he won’t tell Adam, and he’s got the room to himself. Matt’s not technically late, he guesses, since he’d said around one. But the possible anxiety of being stood up triggers his need to clean and organize. He’s in the middle of putting away his last few books into his mini bookshelf when there’s a knock.

He stands and opens the door to see Matt, hair in a neat little half ponytail, smiling at him.

“How’d you get in?” Adam asks. “Um. I mean. Hi.”

Matt, miraculously, laughs. “The RA here knows me,” he says. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Adam moves so Matt can step by him, and his heart has never beat faster. Matt sits gently on the bed. There’s nothing in Adam that wants to move him or clean the sheets. It’s strange.

“I brought my homework,” Matt says, swinging his backpack to the floor. He pulls out a notebook and sets it on his lap, unopened.

Adam makes his way over to the bed and sits on his desk chair so he has a little extra space to set up on his bed. He shoves his glasses up his nose and forces himself not to look at Matt. “Um, so,” he says, clearing his throat. “Your class is kind of different than math that I take, since it’s learning how to teach math from it’s foundation. What are you stuck on?”

Matt blinks at him. “You know I don’t actually need help with math, right?”

Adam blinks and turns to Matt. “What?”

Matt’s smile is far too intriguing. “God, you’re cute.” Adam can hear his heart pound in his ears. “You – you’re smart, yeah, and I’m sure you could help me with everything. But I know the differences between subtrahends and addends and all that.” His eyes are too pretty under all those eyelashes. “I guess I wasn’t clear enough, but this was a ruse to hang out with you more.”

Adam’s mouth falls open as he looks at Matt, trying to process what all of it means. “You – hang out with me?”

“Without Nick, I mean,” Matt explains. “He always wants to tag along.” He turns to Adam. “This way we could have some time just us.”

“Just us?” Adam doesn’t know why he can only repeat the last thing Matt said. But Matt doesn’t seem fazed.

Matt nods, smiling. “I figured, after last night, you might like me too.”

Adam reaches out and rests a hand on Matt’s arm, trying to prove this is real and not a dream. Matt leans in and kisses Adam before he can process what’s about to happen. Matt’s lips are soft and warm against Adam’s, more than a dream. Adam almost falls over with how perfect it is. When Matt pulls back, his heart is racing and he can’t stop looking at Matt.

“Was that okay?” Matt asks. “I, like, have been trying not to want to kiss you for a really long time, and I almost did last night but Nick was there, and then you touched my arm and everything, so I figured –”

As much as Adam loves hearing Matt talk, he thinks he’s rambling and would appreciate being helped to quiet down. So Adam leans in and kisses Matt again, getting a cute little squeak of interest before he throws his arms around Adam’s neck. Adam breathes into it, leaning into Matt. He doesn’t know when he throws his arms around Matt’s waist, when he drags Matt into his lap, when Matt starts leaning into him, just that it’s happening.

Something about their combined weight is too much for the chair and it slides backward, the two of them falling to the floor. Matt giggles.

“Oops.”

“I think you broke my office chair,” Adam says, grinning up at Matt. “You are the worst person I’ve ever tutored, I think.”

“Am not!” says Matt, and Adam tries not to feel miserable at the lack of contact anymore. “Plus, it’s been, like, fifteen minutes, and it was a ruse I kissed you in the middle of, so that gives me bonus points.”

“I was going to tutor you the whole time,” Adam argues, and he adjusts his chair back up. It should be okay. “I just also wanted to kiss you.” He shrugs, leaning against his desk as Matt makes himself at home on his bed. “I was sort of worried the tutoring thing meant you didn’t think of me the same way.”

“Well, that’s just not true.” Matt stretches out in his bed, arms behind his head. Adam’s pretty sure he’ll have this image burned into his memory for the rest of his life. “I only started coming to basketball because Nick told me you were there.”

“So we have Nick to thank for this,” Adam says, grinning. He sits down on the bed, most of his weight still on his feet as he tries not to overstep Matt’s boundaries. “Good to know.”

“Adam?”

“Yeah?”

Matt’s grin goes a little devious. “If you want to come snuggle right now, it’s your bed. Or I can move. But you don’t have to sit so awkwardly in your own dorm room.”

Adam opens his mouth. “I – I’m not awkward.”

“You’re a little awkward, but it’s what I like about you.” Matt’s eyes are pretty and big, his smile honest. He scoots over and pats the side of the bed. “Come on. Forget math. Come snuggle.”

Adam carefully lowers himself into his bed next to Matt. They’re above the blankets, it’s the middle of the day, and Nick will probably be back from the gym any time now. It won’t go farther than either of them want.

When he settles, Matt turns over and cuddles into him. Adam automatically wraps his arm around Matt’s back and finally relaxes into the moment. “Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” Matt says.

“Your hair smells nice.”

“Your sheets smell nice,” Matt says. It’s a sweet sentiment, but Matt’s face is shoved into Adam’s chest so he’s not sure how much of that sentence is real.

Adam doesn’t even know how to react. He’s spent weeks trying to get this moment to be anything near possible, and now it’s here in front of him. And he’s got no fucking idea what to do.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks. He scoots over, sitting up. “I’m going too intense, aren’t I.” Adam watches Matt curl up on himself. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not too intense!” Adam blurts out. Matt tilts his head to the side. “I’m just sort of freaking out a little bit. Not because of you. Because I’m…me.”

“Because you’re you?” Matt asks, and he scoots back over to Adam. “That’s why I’m here. Because you’re you.”

Adam turns around, finding himself nose to nose with Matt. “I like you because you’re you, too.”

Matt tilts his face and they kiss again, soft, gentle, and intentional. Adam feels warm and cozy. He lets himself reach up and rest his hand on Matt’s waist. Matt scoots closer to Adam and sighs, sending a thrill of exhilaration through Adam’s body. He angles his hips away, because he isn’t willing to screw this whole thing up, and keeps the kisses under control.

He doesn’t know how long it is, only that he wants this to last forever, with Matt curled up in his arms, his little giggles, their brief breaks to talk.

“So, does this mean we’re boyfriends?” Matt asks, red faced and hair mussed after a particularly enthusiastic make out. “Just to clarify.”

“I – I hope so,” Adam says, and he feels his face heat up. “I’d like to, I mean.”

“Good,” Matt says. “Then we’re boyfriends.” He leans in and kisses Adam again, and it feels like they could do this forever.

Forever in a college dorm is impossible, though, and the door swings open.

“Have you talked to Matt? He’s not answering my texts.”

Matt and Adam separate, and Adam freezes. “Um.”

Nick breaks into a giant grin. “Oh, damn,” he says. “I knew it. I knew it. Matt, you’re as subtle as a freight train.”

“Shut up, Nick,” Matt says, but he pulls Adams arm more tightly around him. “Let me have some time with my new boyfriend.”

~

They come back from Thanksgiving break to a chill that only seems to be fixed by holding Matt’s hand in his. He’d missed Matt more than he realized possible in that week, and the way Matt had thrown himself into his arms when they saw each other that first Sunday afternoon they were back was more than he could imagine.

“Come on,” Matt says, pulling away. “Nick’s doing, I don’t know. Something to do with class, probably. Let’s go get lunch.”

“Diner?” Adam asks, taking Matt’s hand. “I tutored over the break so I have extra money.”

“Ooh, are you going to take me on a fancy date to the local greasy spoon?” Matt giggles.

“We can get really fancy and buy the real maple syrup when you drown your pancakes.” Adam pulls Matt in and kisses his forehead.

They sit at one of the shiny vinyl booths for two, and Happy comes over.

“You’re a waitress here?” Adam asks. “Since when?”

Happy blows her hair out of her face. “Since I realized my bike needs repairs I can’t afford, and I wasn’t willing to wait until summer.” She clicks her pen. “Alright, dorks. What do you want?”

Adam and Matt order pancakes and hashbrowns and all other things that will make the chill outside feel a little more tolerable. Matt sips his hot chocolate with a smile on his face.

“What?” Adam asks.

Matt shrugs. “I missed you.”

Matt’s in the middle of a story about how Nick got his hand stuck in the turkey when his mostly empty mug of hot chocolate flies to the ground and shatters.

“Oops,” Matt says, eyes widening. “Uh. Do you see Happy?”

Happy whirls around the corner. “What the hell was that?!”

“Hi, Happy,” Adam mutters, sheepish under her furious gaze. “We, um. Broke a mug.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no shit,” she mutters. “Wait, pretend I didn’t say that. I’ll go get a mop, but go check in with the front to see if they have anything to clean up the mug.” She frowns at it. “I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you idiots to pick it up on your own, even though it was your fault to begin with.”

“Yeah, I’ll go check,” Adam says. “You can stay here, Matt. Keep your sneakers clean.” He grins a Matt.

“No, I’m coming with,” Matt says. “It’s my mug, after all. I should let them know I dropped it.”

They make their way to the front space of the diner with barstools and a window into the kitchen where…where Adam…sees…

Adam’s mouth drops open, and he barely has the sense to throw out an arm to keep Matt from stomping through the door to the kitchen, but it’s no use.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says, and Adam should probably not be turned on by how bitchy Matt sounds, “since when have you been banging Mox?”

Nick sighs and adjusts his shirt and hair. “Since, like, the beginning of the semester. Took you long enough to figure it out.” Adam thinks back to the semester – other than when it was time to sleep or play basketball, Nick was pretty gone. He’d put it up to hanging out with Reyna or Happy or something, but nope. “How do you know Mox, by the way?”

“Not important.” Matt says, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest. “By the way, Mox is short for…?”

“Moxley,” the guy says, and his voice is sand and smoke in one. “Jon Moxley. You his big brother or something?” He sticks out his hand. “Shake it. I’m a cook, not a monster. My hands are clean.”

Matt throws a hesitant look at Adam, who shrugs, then shakes Mox’s hand. “Hi,” Matt says, still with a little frown on his face. “Are you – what are your intentions with my brother?”

“Jesus Christ,” Nick mutters, dropping his head into his hand.

Adam watches as Mox’s grin goes a little…weird. “You really wanna know?” Mox asks.

“I – no,” Matt says, blushing furiously. He grabs Adam’s hand. “We, um. If you hurt him, I’ll kill you. Just for the record.”

“Sure you will, sweetheart.” Mox winks at Matt.

“Hey!” Adam says. “Be less weird about my boyfriend.”

“You sure about that?” Mox asks. He’s weirdly confident, almost too casual, as he leans against the stove. Adam secretly hopes it’s on. “Anyway, I’m supposed to be cooking, so it’d be great if all of you left my place of work.” He smacks Nick on the ass. “Except for you, baby. You can stay as long as you want.”

Nick nods. “Yeah, goodbye, roommate and brother. I have someone – something – things to do.”

“I should have known you were out getting laid when you were late to our study parties,” Adam says, but he can’t make himself be mad about it. He grabs Matt by the bicep and turns, leading him back to their seat.

Matt fumes silently as he picks up the shards of mug without any hand protection.

“The hell are you doing?” Happy asks. “I told you to ask the front to take care of that.”

“Your cook is making out with my brother, so he appeared otherwise occupied,” Matt says, glaring down at the puddle.

Happy snorts. “Oh, you didn’t know? Oops.”

“You knew?!”

“Only so many times you can hear weird noises from the kitchen before investigating,” Happy says, mopping up the puddle. It’s mercifully small. “Plus, me and Toby tried to hook up in the supply closet and the two of them were in there last week.”

“And when did that start?”

“Me and Toby?” Happy asks. “Like, last year.”

“No!” Matt says, throwing his hands in the air. “The Nick and Mox!”

Happy pauses mopping. “Don’t know. Don’t really pay attention to things like that. Mostly I’m focusing on how to make people tip me more. Toby’s been teaching me psychology tricks.”

“I can guarantee,” Adam says, “telling people about your tip related psychology tricks is not a way to get them to tip you more. I’ll tip you, like, 25%, but that’s because you’re my friend.”

Happy grins. “Then it worked!”

Adam avoids the urge to tell her it didn’t work the way she’d intended, but he does leave the big tip.

As they walk back into the windy chill of the day, Matt ramps himself up again.

“I can’t believe Nick is – is sleeping with the diner guy!” Matt says, immediately going red. “I – this isn’t – why?!”

“Is this a classist thing?” Adam asks, walking down the street back to his dorm. At the very least, he knows it’ll be empty for a while. “Are you mad your brother for sleeping with a townie?”

“No!” Matt says, and his hair is getting in on the drama, too. “I – that’s – not it.”

Adam studies Matt’s face for a few minutes. “Oh,” he says grinning. “You’re mad because you had a crush on Mox first.”

“I – did not!” Matt says, but he won’t meet Adam’s eyes.

Adam flashes his ID at the desk attendant as Matt stomps ahead of him. “You did,” Adam says. “Oh, this would be so funny if you weren’t dating me.”

Matt gets to Adam’s door and gestures to it angrily. “Open the door.”

“Why?” Adam asks. “So you can tell me how bad you want Mox to fuck you?”

Matt whines and stomps his foot. “No, because I want you to eff me, okay?”

Adam pauses, key halfway twisted in the lock. “Come again?”

“I – I liked Mox, a while ago,” Matt says. “Okay? I did. I thought – shut up.” Adam turns away and keeps opening the door and decides not to mention he hasn’t actually said anything. He pushes it open. “You’re not allowed to talk right now. Let me explain.”

Matt shoves past him and throws himself on Adam’s bed. “Before Nick went here, Mox and I flirted a few times at the diner when I was a freshman and all, so, yeah. I kind of liked him. But then I met you at the beginning of this year, and now I like you.”

At least, that’s what Adam heard. Matt’s face is shoved into Adam’s pillow so he can’t be certain.

“I know you like me,” Adam says, sitting on the bed next to Matt. It’s strangely reminiscent of the night they kissed the first time. “I was just teasing.”

Matt rolls over. “That’s the thing, though,” he says. “I don’t just like you.” He presses his lips together, and Adam thinks he can hear his heart racing.

Adam leans in and kisses Matt without pausing to think about it, laying across Matt’s body. He – he can feel that Matt’s hard against him, and his entire body electrifies with it.

“You know what I’m saying, right?” Matt asks, pulling back and tucking rogue curls behind Adam’s ear. “I love you.”

Adam nods, head spinning with all of it. “I – I love you too,” he manages to say. He didn’t know he did, not yet, but now, with Matt under him, with everything.

He’s sure.

Their clothes disappear in favor of roaming hands and lips. Adam doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, but he knows he’ll say yes to anything Matt asks of him.

“Are you,” Matt asks, lips parted and eyes bright underneath Adam. “I mean, I want to – do you want to?”

Adam brushes Matt’s hair away from his face, suddenly so glad Nick is busy. “Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, anything, with you. I want to. But, um. I’ve never – I mean, I’ve, like, kissed. Obviously. And- well, it depends – what do you want to do?”

Matt smiles. “Am I gonna be one of your first times?” He reaches up and plays with Adam’s hair where it’s fallen out of the ponytail.

“First time,” Adam whispers. “When it mattered.”

Matt’s eyes widen. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, okay. If you want to slow down, we slow down.” He reaches up again and cups Adam’s cheek, and it’s so sweet that Adam almost loses it right then and there.

“Do you want to slow down?” Adam asks.

Matt shakes his head. “Not even a little bit. But if you want to slow – ”

“No,” Adam says. “I want – I want you.”

Matt exhales, eyes deadly serious on Adam’s face. “Okay,” he says quietly. “I’m all yours.”

Matt is immeasurable kind and gentle, talking it out with Adam, explaining what to do, all while their hands are lined and Adam kisses along Matt’s body.

“You – you’re incredible,” Adam mutters. Matt throws an arm around Adam’s neck. “You know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Matt says. “I – oh, okay. You’re doing so good at this.”

Adam feels himself turn pink. “I am?”

“So good,” Matt says. “And I’m ready, if you are.” He looks a little smug. “If you have what we need, that is.”

Adam flashes back to the beginning of the semester, when he, Toby, and Piper had found themselves at Walmart.

“I, um. I do.”

Matt’s face lights up with excitement. “You do?”

Adam nods. “Piper told me and Toby we were too – I think she said vanilla?” He feels his face burn pink. “She made us get a bunch of lube. Condoms.” He forces out the last word. “There’s a couple vibrators in there, too.”

Matt giggles. “Yeah?”

He nods. “She’s very persuasive, Piper.”

Matt stands and walks over to his desk. “In here?”

Adam presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah.

“Can I open it?” Matt asks quietly. “I know you don’t like people in your stuff.”

“You’re not just people,” Adam says. “Go ahead.”

Matt takes out the lube and some condoms, wordlessly looking to Adam, who nods. Matt’s always got a way of getting Adam’s heart racing like this.

“I’m ready if you want to,” Matt says quietly, coming over to the bed. He sits down on the bed, eyes on Adam’s.

Adam has to steady his breathing. “You are?” It feels too soon, or too fast, for Matt. He doesn’t want to over do it, but Matt seems confident.

“I just – tell me what you want,” Matt says. “I want to make sure you know, so I know, and so we, like, understand each other.”

Adam laughs as he slots himself in between Matt’s legs. “I want to fuck you, you idiot.”

Matt beams at him. “Okay. Yeah, perfect.”

Adam’s never felt like this before, when he and Matt connect. There are fumbling fingers and limbs, some laughter, pauses to kiss. His entire mind is consumed with how Matt looks and feels, how he tastes when they kiss, how he sounds when Adam tries a different move with his hips.

He’s watched a lot of movies. He’s read a lot of books. But none of the words spoken or written are enough to explain how this moment consumes him.

Matt’s little encouragements, praise, gentle touches, anchor him to the moment. Without them, he thinks he’d float away somewhere else.

“Matt,” he warns. “I – I think I’m…”

“That’s okay,” Matt says. “I, um, I can take care of myself after.”

“Definitely not,” Adam says. “I’ll take care of you as long as you want.”

Matt makes an interesting, irresistible little whine, and Adam can’t hold it back anymore. His mind and body coalesce into spinning, whirling bliss with Matt’s name on his lips, and he gives himself a few seconds to breathe. It feels real, overwhelmingly so, and he has to lean down to kiss Matt.

“Hold on,” he whispers against Matt’s lips. “I – give me, like, three seconds.”

“Take your time,” Matt says, beaming up at Adam, and god isn’t that a sight he wants to see every day.

Adam ties off the condom and chucks it in the trash can, then comes back to Matt. “So, um, I’ve never – like jokes with popsicles and whatever –”

“I promise,” Matt says, “whatever you do will be amazing.”

Adam ducks down and tries his best to get this right. He will admit it’s messy, but Matt’s got a hand in his hair and is squirming, which makes him think he’s doing okay.

“Adam,” Matt whimpers, “you’re – oh my god – you’re really good at this.” He whines and twitches his hips. Automatically, Adam throws an arm across Matt’s hips to still him.

“You have no idea how hot this is,” Matt pants. “I’m gonna – Adam, I’m about to –”

He has a decision to make. Adam picks up the pace and grins when Matt cries his name with a hand resting on the back of his head. It’s not exactly what he expected, a little startling, but it’s worth it to hear Matt breathless and giggling farther up on the bed.

“You’re glowing,” Matt says, smoothing his hand over Adam’s hair. “Like, you usually have a sunshiney thing going with the long blond hair, but you’re really glowy right now.”

Adam ducks his head, the intensity of the eye contact almost too much. “I am?”

“Yes.”

Adam lifts his head to see Matt with an angelic smile on his face. “You are, too.”

They kiss and hold each other, and Adam decides this might be his favorite moment of his life. It’s important to him to remember it so he can keep it as his favorite memory, too.

“So,” Adam says. “You excited to go back to classes tomorrow?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking about classes right now,” Matt laughs, draping a leg across Adam’s. “You’re such a nerd.”

“And?” Adam asks.

“And that’s what I like about you,” Matt says.

The last bit of the semester goes by too quickly – two weeks aren’t enough time to study, take midterms, and spend time with Matt. They go to a few smaller parties, lose to Kenny and Piper at every video game known to Kenny’s game collection, and stay up to late studying in the library until they get so giggly they get kicked out.

On his last day, two hours before his parents are supposed to pick him up before winter break, he grabs Matt as he’s leaving his last final.

“You done?” Adam asks. His last final was the day before, but their little group had a study party at Toby’s apartment the night before and he and Matt had had some time of their own afterwards.

Matt nods. “It felt good. Must be all that tutoring you gave me.” He winks, and Adam blushes.

“I can’t believe you called sex ‘tutoring’ in front of your brother last night,” Adam mutters. “Like, that was so transparent even Happy picked up on it.”

Matt shrugs. “And?”

Adam pulls him in and kisses him. “I love you,” he murmurs against Matt’s lips. “I’m gonna miss you so damned much.”

“Me too,” Matt says. “But it’s only a month, right?”

Adam nods. “Only a month.” They kiss again, then Adam reaches for his pocket. “I, um. I was hoping you could open your Christmas present now.”

Matt nods. “Okay.”

Adam did a terrible job of wrapping the picture frame, but he hands it to Matt anyway. Matt opens it carefully, unpeeling the crumpled paper with gentle fingers, and looking at it.

“It’s all of us,” Matt says, fingertips brushing over where he and Adam are next to each other in the cover picture of the photo album. “It’s the picture of all of us from the Halloween party.”

Adam nods. “That’s the first night we all took a picture together.” He brushes some hair from Matt’s cheeks. “Very found family of us. The rest is other pictures from the semester, so you – so you can look back if you’re lonely.”

Matt dives in and kisses Adam, arms thrown around his neck. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “This is the best gift ever.” He steps back. “Yours is in my apartment, though.”

“Oh!” Adam says. “That kind of gift?”

“Well, yes, that too,” Matt says, rolling his eyes with a smile. “But, like, the actual gift is in there, too. They wouldn’t let me bring anything into the test room.”

They walk, hand in hand, to Matt’s apartment that he shares with Toby, and Matt all but shoves him on the couch. “Wait here,” Matt says. “I’ll go get your gift.”

“Still feels like you’re gonna walk out naked and say I’m all you want for Christmas,” Adam yells after Matt, but he stretches out on the couch.

Matt comes back and holds out a smally, square box. “Here.”

Adam opens it and pulls out the keychain. There’s a picture of him and Matt at the top, and, below, a Spotify code etched into the metal.

“Scan it,” Matt says, bouncing on his toes. “It’s, like, a 2020’s version of a mixtape.”

Adam scans the code and sees a playlist called Adamantium.

“Adamantium?”

“Because you make me strong,” Matt says beaming. “It’s songs that make me think of you.”

Adam reaches up and yanks Matt down. “This is the best gift ever.”

He and Matt are really ramping up when the door crashes open with a bang and they pull apart to see Toby and Happy making out and running into the kitchen.

“Oh,” Matt says. “Alright, then.”

“Shut up,” Happy says. “You have an apartment, right Cowboy?”

“I – yes?” Adam says. “Cowboy?”

“You and the stupid fuckin’ belt buckles,” Happy says. “Out. I have a boyfriend to fuck.”

“I’m the boyfriend!” Toby says, and Adam is surprised he managed to bag such a smoke show as Happy freaking Quinn.

“We can go to your dorm,” Matt says, grinning. “I have it, unfortunately, on good authority that Nick is otherwise occupied.”

They fall together in Adam’s dorm, the lingering feeling of the last time until they see each other next sticking in Adam’s heart, but it’s good. It’s always so, so good.

And he’s always so, so in love.

Matt helps Adam pack up the essentials, and then Adam’s parents are texting to say they’re here. “Probably too soon to meet the parents,” Matt says, small smile. “Maybe next semester?”

“Okay,” Adam says, exhaling. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

Matt nods. “So soon.” He stands on his toes and yanks Adam in for what is clearly one final kiss, their hair messed up and hearts full. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Adam rests his forehead against Matt’s. “Thank you for being the best part of my semester.”

Matt tilts his head up and steals one last, perfect kiss.

~

Mini Playlist:

Nonsense - Sabrina Carpenter

Kiss You - One Direction

Look After You - The Fray

I Think I'm In Love - Kat Dahlia

#HangMatt #wtf i like wrestling now??? #in which sara writes #basically too much brain #I can't believe I don't have an actual PJO tag I am a fool #anxious millennial dreamboat #Matt Attrackson #I think I'm only going to tag the two of the but technically there are like 4 other ships in this

[mediaconsumernightwriter]

Jeff Winger and Abed Nadir: the lifeline of Community

“I see your value now.” One of the first quotes from the show, from the first conversation we see Abed and Jeff have. Jeff just discovered Britta needs a Spanish tutor through Abed and will be using this information to flirt with Britta. He is telling Abed that his value is to inform him so that he can advance in his court of a woman he likes. It’s not sincere, but of course Abed takes it at face value: “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me” he says in return. These phrases are repeated in season 5, of course, when Abed comes back to help the school along with Jeff (who just wants material to bust the school with). But people often forget these lines are repeated another time, in the pilot episode. They’re the last words said in the episode and bring a new meaning to them, because it’s Abed who sees Jeff’s value now. Jeff is overcome with this judgment and proclaims “that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me”.

Jeff and Abed are, to me, the most important relationship in the entirety of Community. I don’t mean they are the best relationship, the most liked, but the most important. It is integral to the plot of the show and everything in Community moves around those two. In this text, I will go down some of their storylines and explain why they are so indispensable to the fabric of this show.

I’d argue both Jeff and Abed are the two main characters of Community. No primary storyline in the entire show happens without one or both of them. They are always the one who needs help in some way and recruits parts of the study group (the formulaic sitcom structure).

The first example of this relationship between Jeffabed (their ship name) and the plot of Community is episode 21 of season 1 “Contemporary American Poultry”. Jeff convinces the study group to fire Starburns from his chicken frying job so that they can get more chicken fingers. Abed works the fryer. Everyone has their own job. At a certain point, Jeff starts to lose control to Abed, who turns the chicken finger business into a way to get the study group things they want. But this is not what is important. What’s important is the scene towards the end where Jeff is going into the kitchen at night to break the chicken fryer. He unexpectedly finds Abed trying out different recipes. They discuss the reasons why they’re there: a need to recuperate power for Jeff; a necessity for friends for Abed. They decide to help each other out with their ailments. This is not the first moment we see Jeff and Abed being close, as a few episodes before Jeff moved in with Abed and they both got drunk together. But this is the first time we see them be vulnerable to each other and to themselves.

Why is this episode important to the plot? Because this is where Community stops being just any sitcom and turns into a marvel of modern television. This episode is a parody of gangster movies, like Abed refers he’d always wanted to be in. Two episodes later, we get the masterpiece that is the first paintball episode, a parody of action movies. And all of a sudden, Community is so much more than a sitcom, it becomes a collection of special episodes one after the other, an amalgamation of the imagination of its creators.

The next example of the importance of this relationship is episode 1 of season 2 “Anthropology 101”. In the climax of this episode, a lot of secrets come out, such as Britta and Jeff having sex on the table they study at or Jeff kissing Annie after the dance. Things are not looking good for Jeff and they get worse when Abed calls him out: “I can tell life from TV, Jeff. TV makes sense, it has structure, logic, rules, and likable leading men. In life, we have this, we have you.” This is the first time in this whole scene where Jeff looks even remotely regretful of what he has said and done.

In “Critical Film Studies” (episode 19, season 2), we see Jeff and Abed be vulnerable with each other again, Jeff when he thinks Abed is being sincere during his birthday dinner and Abed at the failed birthday party Jeff had planned. They both feel comfortable with each other to air out their grievances and display their feelings naturally.

Abed is always there for Jeff, even in his imagination. Both in “Advanced Introduction to Finality” (episode 13, season 4) and “G.I. Jeff” (episode 11, season 5), Abed appears in Jeff’s mind as a way to reconcile with his inner troubles. In the first episode, it’s in the form of a speech that makes Jeff “win” his paintball battle against his evil self, even saying he has “a family”. In the second, Jeff uses the same coping mechanism as Abed did in “Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas” (episode 11, season 2), creating an imaginary world, an animated one, where he gets to ignore what is happening to him (turning 40 years old). 

Abed is not one for physical touch and if we see him hug someone it is usually initiated by the other person. However, there’s two people he lets touch him with no worries: one of them is obviously Troy (Trobed for life!!), but the other one is Jeff. In “Intro to Recycled Cinema” (episode 8, season 6), Jeff is freaking out that everyone will leave Greendale and forget him there and once again he finds comfort in Abed. They hug and Abed doesn’t seem too uncomfortable with this much touch with Jeff.

We get now to the last episode “Emotional Consequences of Broadcast Television” (episode 13, season 6), where everyone is really leaving (obviously, it’s the last episode), but I think Jeff is holding on to what Abed told him in “Recycled Cinema” and not having too much trouble with it. Until Abed says he’s leaving too. Then Jeff, after hearing this, gets a glassy look in his eyes and runs away. All his friends are leaving him. He is not comforted by Abed this time, but by Annie, who’s also leaving. I would’ve loved to see what Abed would’ve told Jeff in this moment. But we still get the Jeffabed moment we desired and, in my opinion, the one who demonstrates that Jeff and Abed really are the most important relationship to the show and to both of them. They hug at the airport, where they’re saying their goodbyes. Jeff also hugged Annie before, but he hugs Abed a second time. He needs that second hug. He knows that they will be apart for a long time and he knows that he needs Abed with him.These two characters mean a lot to me, separately but, most importantly, together. They are the driving force of Community, giving the show its course and its storylines. We watch these only children become each other’s brothers, which they both needed so much.

#community #nbc community #six seasons and a movie #abed nadir #jeff winger #joel mchale #danny pudi #show #show review #essay #writing

[lunarifie]

Hollow Fantasy AU part 3:

part 2 / part 4

Days pass as the group grows closer as friends. Eventually, Vanessa flies as Skeet speeds forward, both of them rejoining the group and exclaiming that there was a village not far off. Everyone cheers, picking up pace and reaching the village in no time. When they near the village Mira nudges Adam. “Do you think he’s going to be here?” Adam involuntarily perks up at that before immediately frowning and shaking his head, ignoring her. Vanessa raises an eyebrow at that and Skeet sighs. They enter the mundane village and rent a room in an inn. The sky darkens as they prepare for bed. Adam mentions that he’ll be staying up to look at the map and try to figure out where exactly they are after learning the name of the village. Mira scolds him while Skeet and Reeve object. Adam insists. That is until Reeve knocks him out with a sleeping spell, explaining to the others that it only works on people who are thoroughly exhausted. Everyone else continues to get ready for bed, Vanessa breaking the silence. “What were you talking about before? That someone might be here?” The group grows quiet, only for Mira to pipe up and talk about their old red-head friend who’d runaway under mysterious circumstances. She explains that they were all pretty close and shares stories of Kai from the few days he stayed with them, Reeve and Skeet interjecting with their own stories as well. Mira finishes by saying they all hope that they’ll find him on their journey. “If I’m being completely honest, deep down I think Adam might care about finding Kai more than the Ishibo. But he’d never admit that. He was always trained and told- as a guard! That he would find the ishibo, so he knows thats more important.” Vanessa agrees, stating it was best to focus on the goal at hand.

They wake up the next morning to loud scratchy exclamations outside the inn. They get up, preparing their stuff and walking outside. Once they leave the inn they’re met with a huge crowd surrounding what appears to be two monks standing on the townsquares wooden stage. They shout out to the crowd in their monk robes, waving a flier around, “come everyone come! And hear of the great warrior… AKUMA!!!” The monks roar the name, exclaiming that Akuma is the mightiest warrior in the land, with his glowing weapon that could poison thousands. Adam perks up at those words, straining his ears to listen. “We’re looking for your strongest fighters! Whoever can enter Akumas arena and beat the ghastly beast will be rewarded handsomely!” Adam straightens, maneuvering through the crowd until he was right beneath the monks. “Is the beast a dragon?” He asks. The Monks share a weird glance, “why yes, lucky guess!” Adams hopes skyrocket. “Is the reward the ishibo?” One of the monks look bewildered, “what? No. Its just money…” they answer. Adam frowns at that, face furrowing. “Adam what are you doing?!?!” Adams friends join him in the middle of the crowd, sharing looks of incredulity. “Id like to join the arena!” Adam proclaims. The crowd grows silent. “Excellent!” The monks cry, handing Adam a map, “this’ll direct you to the location! Good luck! You’ll need it!” The monks leave, the crowd dispersing, eyeing Adam while whispering to one another. Adam unfolds the map as his friends surround him to look over his shoulder. The map showcases that the arena wasn’t far from where they are, probably just a day or two, or a few hours on horseback if they’re able to afford a ride. Fortunately, a horse is not needed. The word of a new-maybe-champion spreads, a carriage soon presented to the group to escort them to the arena. Adam stops his friends, explaining to then that this was his prophecy, his legacy, and that they shouldn’t have to come. That they could stay safe inside the village. They all ignore him, and his meaningful speech, hopping into the carriage. Adam sighs in exasperation, climbing inside as well.

They travel through foresty terrain until they reach a clearing, bringing them to dry Akki Mountains. It was a medium sized town with rocky roads and red houses. The carriage bumped uncomfortable, clay monks of all sizes staring as they pass, some grin from the sidewalk, other laugh from their houses. It sends the group an uneasy chill down their spines. Finally they reach the center of the town. The friend group looks around, Skeet asking the carriage driver where the arena was. The driver points up and they all tilt their heads, finally spotting long chains holding a gigantic floating rock in the sky. The carriage driver dumps them out in a hurry, speeding off and out of the creepy town. The friend group glance around to see multiple clay monks staring at them and decide to begin their climb. Skeet and Vanessa take turns carrying people to the top. Once they reach the peak, they stand on smooth dirt flooring, staring ahead and spotting the fighting arena. The arena is humongous, stadium walls reaching the sky. The stadium is the first thing they notice, the second thing being a red tannish temple right in front of it. They walk towards it, a looming dark archway that leads inside the temple beckoning them. They all enter the temple, realizing it was in fact a monastery. They eye what they assume is Akuma, sitting upon a throne with monks by his side. “Which one of you volunteered to battle the beast?” He asks. Adam walks forward, apart from the group, “me.” Akuma grins, “very well then, I hope you’re ready, most people aren’t. Now, for the fact that you’ve gotten this far and havent let cowardice drive you away,—” “I have no interest in your reward.” Adam interrupts. The monks tilt their spears towards Adam, glaring. Akuma puts up a hand. “No reward?” He questions. “I didn’t say that,” Adam answers “I said I have no interest in your reward.” Akuma hums, “what do you have in mind?” Adam points to the staff in Akumas hand. “the ishibo.” The monks are on guard. Akuma blinks at him for a second before laughing. “I agree to your terms.” He swings the staff around in his hand, obviously disbelieving that Adam will even escape the battle alive. “You may enter the armory and pick a weapon,” a secret entryway from underneath Akumas throne opens. “From there you will enter the arena and make your way towards your death.” He gestured towards the rest of the group, “your companions will be escorted to the stadium,” he moved his hand to the entry way, “good luck.”

#the hollow #the hollow netflix #the hollow cartoon #the hollow fantasy au #the hollow kaidam #kai the hollow #the hollow kai #adam the hollow #the hollow adam #the hollow mira #the hollow vanessa #the hollow reeve #the hollow skeet

[drunkengodsofslaughter]

I think what gets me the most about the whole R*nance thing is that mostly Nancy stans proclaim Steve would be 100% fine, plan their wedding and if not he's a bad friend for apparently not wanting Robin to be happy. Like idk if those people have best friends themselves, but would you not feel fucking betrayed if your bff would date your ex? Especially when they know you still have some feelings for them? It's just so fucked honestly. Also them saying Nancy is the only person who would get Robin, like Steve literally doesn't exist. You want Nancy to date Steve's bff, you can't complain that he's there or that maybe some complications would arise with this relationship. It's like they don't consider other ppl, like R*nance is so removed from the narrative in order to truly work. Because like in real life people and situations would influence the relationship. And again Robin would never risk her relationship with Steve, he is her number one person, Nancy will never get to this level. Robin trying to look out for Steve and taking his feelings into account is literally a normal thing bff should do. And that's also not making the relationship about a man, like Robin and Steve come in pairs, they are a package deal. Nancy and Robin only know each other through Steve, they only talk because of Steve and the UD.

oh my god SAME!!! like it pisses me off how so many people just expect steve to be okay and feel 100% happy about all of this. it’s like so you want people to not have emotions? cuz it just sounds like no one is allowed to have emotions with these people. and they’ll immediately see steve as the bad guy if he has some negative feelings around his bestie dating his ex - like huh what? they would absolutely feel betrayed i guarantee you.

i never knew they said that about nancy is the only one who would get robin WHICH CANON DIRECTLY SHOWS THAT NANCY DOESNT UNDERSTAND ROBIN AT ALL!!!! like that just gets me sooo fucking pissed off. literally about all of that like people want his bestie to date his ex and then have the nerve to be like ‘well okay but you need to stop having him in this equation’ HES IN THIS EQUATION BECAUSE HE IS ROBIN’S FRIEND - PLATONIC SOULMATE - THE ONE WHO SHE WANTS TO COMBINE WITH!!! like just the audacity of saying this as if robin would just forget the feelings of someone that completely and wholly understands her.

oh my god you’re soo right! like r/nance does feel so removed like idk i’ve tried to see them working out (even removing steve from the equation) and i just cannot see any way that those two would actually be happy as couple together. it just - they’re personalities do not work (at least to me)

yep like it’s a normal and considerate thing to do yet so many people are acting like it’s heinous or some shit. like i get not jeopardizing your happiness for a friendship and if one of your friends has a problem with someone you don’t have to immediately hate that person. with this though there’s sooo much more with that because 1. nancy literally has a boyfriend rn 2. robin herself was making comments about stancy this season that seemed encouraging for them to get together so she saw steve have feelings for nancy and then had to comfort him at the end. so with these two things as evidence i genuinely don’t see how robin would even want to try to get with nancy. also like i even have a hard time imagining robin coming out to nancy - i can just see her be so paranoid about it so i have an even harder time imagining her being able to stay in a romance with nancy.

literally preach!! steve and robin are a package deal which is very clear in fucking canon. and yep nancy and robin only know each other because of the ud and steve!!!

#answered asks