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insertsickusername13 · 1 year

Note

as a prompt: a richjake roadtrip after senior year

this took me so long.who knew road trips were so hard to write? wtf. like it's such a classic it should've been easy, but i started this weeks ago and only managed to finish it now bc i just refused to close the tab until i finished. and on that note i've been writing for the past hour and my brain has lost all ability to process the english language so i didn't edit it. if there's grammar mistakes or certain sentences are total nonsense then i'm very very sorry

uh, warnings? mentions of sex. mentions of drugs and alcohol.

word count: 5,437 (yes, it's longer than I wanted. its a roadtrip. how am i supposed to write that in a thousand words?)

On the second day, Rich told Jake he liked him. They were up in Maine, planning on getting all of New England before heading west. Jake had the passenger seat pushed back as far as it could go, eyes closed and legs almost straightened. It was early—7? Maybe 8?

When Jake had insisted they go on a road trip together, Rich had imagined late mornings in hotel rooms and late nights in clubs. (He also imagined Jake realizing just how terrible this would be for his legs within the first three hours, but it was hour eight and he still seemed determined.) Instead, he got a rigid schedule and a pre-made playlist. No bars or underground concerts—just Mount Rushmore and Chicago and art museums. Aquariums where there were ones, beaches when they could.

They’d only been through Massachusetts and Connecticut by the time Rich gave in. They were alone for the first time in ages—and not in their house, not with the promise of going to school and seeing their friends the next day. They were practically in the middle-of-no-where-New-Hampshire and Rich could pull over, stand on the roof of the car, and scream, “I love Jake Dillinger!!” and the only person who would hear would be the object of his affections. The urge to confess flurried within and around the car like an unshakable snowstorm.

He didn’t mean to say it. In all honesty, it was a misinterpreted phrase, a result of Rich’s excessive talking as Jake hummed from the passenger seat, half-asleep.

“But Interstellar just had more,” he said, only half paying attention to the empty highway, “Like yeah, okay, Tenet was weird as fuck and probably had a cooler concept if I was smart enough to figure it the fuck out, but the main character’s name was fucking protagonist. Who becomes emotionally attached to a dude named protagonist? It lacked the depth Interstellar had. Plus, Interstellar felt attainable. Like fuck yeah, I wanna go to space.”

“Mhm.”

“I’d take you with me. Maybe Michael, but I’m not sure how ventilation works on a spacecraft and his weed might stink up the whole thing.”

“Probably.”

“You’d be a menace, you can barely handle gas station food, let alone space food. You’d have a heart attack at not being able to have your weekly caviar.”

“You’d just throw me out in space,” Jake mumbled, not even bothering to deny the caviar jab.

“Nah, I like you too much,” Rich teased, poking at Jake’s exposed stomach. He expected a squawk, at least for Jake to shove him away, but there was only silence. Rich took his eyes off the road for just a split second, interest piqued, only to be met with Jake’s wide, terrified expression.

He’d said it a million times before and never overthought it, but maybe there was something different about this time. Maybe it was because they were alone rather than surrounded by friends, maybe it was because now they’d planned a life together—college, in Boston, Jake at Harvard and Rich at Emerson, still roommates. Maybe it was accursed Maine and all its forests, or the way Rich emphasized like. Love was a common word between them, said every sleepless night since the fire, but like meant so much more. Like implied a hesitance only present where romance was seeping into every word.

“No, you don’t," Jake seethed.

Rich scoffed. A restless apprehension crept its way up his spine and settled in his fingertips, which tapped against the steering wheel.

“Pretty sure I do, buddy. You’re—”

“I’m your best friend and you don’t like me.”

Oh. Oh fuck. Jake meant like that. He knew, he—fuck. Rich had to consciously stop himself from accidentally sending the car tumbling into the forest.

“Okay,” Rich forced out, “Okay. I don’t like you.”

Jake’s sigh of relief was similar to a comet colliding with Rich’s home. He squeezed the steering wheel and kept his mouth clamped shut, terrified that one wrong move would send them spiraling off the edge of the Earth.

As it turned out, though, Jake didn’t mind Rich’s confession. He didn’t directly acknowledge It afterward, glad to pretend he was still blissfully unaware of every icy undercurrent running under their feet.

Rich thought an explicit rejection would hurt. He’d imagined how it would go a million times over, a passive version of self-destruction. He lay awake next to Jake’s sleeping body and thought of every word he’d say, how he’d say it, the way he’d look away with guilt. Rich had all his responses planned, all his apologies already written. He was prepared for an, ‘I’m so sorry, I just don’t think of you that way—’

He was not prepared for Jake’s arm slung over his shoulder, lips close to his ear, and that quiet, breathy laugh Jake only let slip out around Rich.

They were in some local museum meant to educate passing tourists about some half-abandoned small town Stephen King would write about. It was reasonably entertaining, mostly a distraction from the storm of heartbreak he was trying to disassemble in his chest. Just one night—he needed one night alone in a hotel room to sob out every sorrow, then he’d bounce back. Just one night.

If only Jake would stop trying to kill him. Rich was satisfied reading about boats or whales or something (he’d forgotten, too busy thinking about Jake’s fingers clutching Rich’s t-shirt to keep his balance) with Jake a good two feet away, examining a painting. But Rich’s beautiful demolitionist decided his next target was Rich. He appeared to the right of him and practically draped himself over him, impossibly energetic for being in a place that reeked of desolation and dust.

“Fuckin’ Maine and their lobsters,” Jake grumbled into Rich’s ear, resting his chin in the crook of his shoulder.

Every possible witty response died before Rich even had the chance to think them up. His brain was too muddled with Jake and Jake knowing and Jake being so close. Where there would usually be a confession on the tip of Rich’s tongue, unspoken but overwhelming, there was only the bitter aftertaste of hope.

“Yeah,” Rich stated, simple and short. Jake’s cane knocked against Rich’s knee. It wasn’t even on the ground anymore, having been replaced by Rich.

Jake made a small sound of confusion before nuzzling a bit closer and said, “Do we wanna drive to Vermont for lunch? Or are we staying here?”

“It’s like a four-hour drive.”

“So we’re staying here?”

“If you want.”

Jake shifted away slightly, just far enough that Rich began reteaching himself how to breathe.

“You’re all red,” Jake stated, soft and oblivious.

Okay, so no breathing. Rich writhed in Jake’s hold until he was free and standing three feet away, face even redder than before, an instinctive reaction to Jake’s intense, unwavering gaze. Picking through the flood of panic in his mind, Rich only barely managed to get out, “Sorry.”

“Why would you be s—oh. No, that’s—I didn’t mean to—like, we’re—”

Rich was going to cry. In front of the boy he was in love with, he was going to cry. Jake sounded so panicked and apologetic that Rich could almost feel it gathering like snowflakes in his hair, coating the floor in pure white dust.

“Jake, stop. It’s fine.”

“Are you su—”

“Let’s just go to lunch. I saw a diner on the way here.”

Jake nodded rapidly, almost desperately, as he stormed from the room—almost as if he could escape Rich’s feelings merely by leaving this goddamn museum behind.

He almost succeeded. It took an awkward lunch and two hours of driving on an empty highway, but eventually, Rich’s one-word answers slipped back into enthusiastic ramblings and Jake learned not to flinch away whenever Rich’s hand got too close.

Rich still cried when they got to the hotel. It was his turn to pay and, despite repeatedly telling Jake that he was going to save as much money as possible, he bought two separate rooms for them. Jake didn’t so much as blink. Still, the next night they were in a shared room with separate beds, far enough that if Rich reached out he’d be met with only empty air, but close enough he could still hear Jake’s breathing.

It wasn’t until Illinois that Rich was once again faced with the consequences of his stupid, unintentional confession. Once again in different hotel rooms, Jake had to knock on Rich’s door at 2 am to get his attention.

Rich was half asleep, his phone in his hand still open to Michael’s text messages. At first, he was convinced Jake was a figment of the SQUIP—the knocks would get louder until Rich was on the floor, rocking back and forth with his hands over his ears waiting for the noises to stop.

But then he heard, “Richie?” and his panic evaporated as if it was never there.

“What the fuck?” he said, answering the door with a fabricated scowl. At Jake’s nighttime smile, it melted into reluctant contentment.

Jake held up a towel and a pair of swim trunks. “Hot tub? I saw they had one.”

“Well, it’s most definitely closed by now.”

Jake ducked his head with a bashful grin on his face and shrugged. Rich knew by now that Jake only followed the rules when adults were there to praise him for his obedience, and Jake knew Rich knew, but he always acted like a scolded child when he suggested something even vaguely rebellious.

“Could be fun,” he whispered, blushing at the floor.

“Oh my god, gimme those and stop acting like a five-year-old.”

Jake positively beamed, sunshine incarnated. Rich almost had a heart attack as he ripped the swim trunks from Jake’s grasp as quickly as he could, doing everything in his power to avoid brushing Jake’s hands against his own as he slammed the door shut to get changed.

By the time they got to the hot tub, Rich was sure he was going to die. He didn’t know he had a thing for boys picking locks, but seeing Jake on his knees in front of the glass door, his credit card in the slit between the door and the wall had done something to Rich.

And Jake, skin red from the hot water, eyes glazed over from the third beer he’d had (that someone Rich hadn’t noticed was in his hand)? Yeah. That was something else entirely. He was frozen despite the heat, paralyzed by Jake’s hands on his hips, tracing stars with his thumb.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jake whispered, voice almost lost in the foggy steam filling the room. He wasn’t making eye contact, instead staring at the point of contact between them like he could see the pearly gates of heaven reflected in the water.

“Yep,” Rich squeaked. He didn’t want to say no, he would do anything to be able to enjoy it for what it was, but… but fuck. This was survival for him. He couldn’t wake up tomorrow in Jake’s hotel room and continue as if nothing had happened—it wasn’t a wouldn’t. There was no choice in this. Rich could not have sex with Jake and be forced to be friends with him afterward. He couldn’t have his feelings manipulated and abused, no matter how much he loved Jake.

Oblivious to Rich’s internal musings, Jake leaned down until he was so close Rich was almost convinced they were kissing.

“You want this?” he said. Just those three words, not the ones Rich was aching, breaking, longing to hear, were enough for their lips to brush together. Less than a second, barely a moment, and Rich thought he felt the moon shatter.

Rich would’ve responded if he could get air in his lungs, but Jake was so close he inhaled all the oxygen that would’ve been Rich’s. All he could do in the haze, the fire, the fear, was shake his head ‘no.’ Not when Jake was drunk. Not when he was looking at Rich like he used to look at Chloe.

Jake jerked back an inch, then two, brows furrowed with confusion.

“I thought—”

“I don’t like you, remember?”

Jake blinked. Rich could tell he was being too slow, his intelligence impacted by the alcohol. It shouldn't take this long for him to figure out what Rich was trying to say—usually, he’d be able to predict Rich’s next words before he even thought them up.

This time, though, Jake just whispered, so small his words could fit in the space between every molecule of air between them, “What?”

“I don’t like you. You told me I don’t like you.”

Another second passed, stretched far beyond what should have been physically possible. Only then did Jake’s eyes flash with recognition.

“Right,” he said, then smiled, “Right, but that was just—I was freaked out, but I’ve thought about it, so much Rich, it’s all I can fucking think about, and you’re—”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m buzzed at best, Rich, listen to me—” he got closer again, eyes alight, and for a split second, the same amount of time it took for someone to realize they were about to die, Rich felt a flicker of hope. Innocent, buttercup hope. Jake in his arms. Waking up to Jake’s face pressed into his hair. Jake kissing him lovingly.

Rich’s face contorted to hide the blissful fantasy from Jake’s prying eyes.

Jake jerked back again, this time so far that he fell back into the water (gracefully, because everything Jake did was graceful), expression a crater of ash and fire.

“Do you… I don’t…”

“You’re hurting me, Jake.”

Jake scrambled farther away, fumbling through the water to the edge of the hot tub as if it was made of glass shards. His mouth was open, words spilling out in a desperate, violent waterfall.

“No, no, you’re not listening to me, Rich, I want you—”

“Yeah, when you’ve got me half naked.”

“What?! No, stop, I’m telling you I want you, all of you, not sex, or—”

“Jacob I can see your boner from here. Don’t try this. It hurts. You can’t—”

“I’m not trying to!”

Jake’s voice was getting loud, his face redder than before. His wet hair went from sexy to frazzled and threatening. His hands were pulling at the roots, tangling in the knots. Rich recognized the mosaic his fear created and could almost see Jake tumbling off cliffs of insanity and desperation. He knew Jake through the months he spent alone in that empty mansion after his parents left, either drunk on expensive liquor or high on the pills his mother left behind, he knew just how dangerous a desperate Jake could be. Not violent, but so goddamn broken it was impossible not to cut himself on the pieces as he gathered him up and reconstructed him back into a man.

“Then stop it!” Rich screamed, “You don’t fucking know, Jake. You’re fucking—the only relationships you’ve been in have been about sex and, and popularity, and you don’t understand this feeling.”

It was as easy as that. Rich knew he’d twisted the knife, knew that maybe he’d taken it a step too far, but he didn’t deserve this. After years of pining, Jake didn’t get to reject him and then try to bed him. That wasn’t allowed.

When Jake spoke again, it was emotionless. Monotonous. Devoid of all humanity. Words on a page, scripted and controlled. Rich had lost all access to Jake.

“What happened with Chloe doesn’t define me. You know that, I know you know that, so don’t even fucking try me. I don’t know what it’s like to hide and lie about my feelings for years, but you don’t know what it’s like to watch the only person you’ve ever loved—”

“Don’t say that.”

“To watch the only person you’ve ever loved,” Jake repeated, more determined this time, “flinch away whenever you so much as look his way because he’s so insecure he can’t accept that maybe you want to spend the rest of your life with him.”

Rich’s fists clenched. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up out of the hot tub, but he was standing by the door, dripping and scowling and on the verge of tears.

“Fuck you.”

“Really? That’s it? Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me and it’s that simple. Tell me you know I want you.”

“You’re my best friend.”

Jake flinched at his own words thrown back at him. He kept his mouth clamped shut as Rich kept talking.

“You’re my best friend and I don’t know what the fuck is up with you tonight, but you told me yourself that we’re friends. I’m not going to let you ruin that with sex.”

“That’s not what—”

“I’m not going to let some half-hearted relationship ruin us, Jacob"

Jake stayed silent, seemingly waiting for more. Rich watched him realize there was nothing left to say, that this was the end of the conversation. His lips were trembling. Rich wished they weren’t.

“Fine,” Jake breathed. He sagged to the floor, knees pressed against the tile, hands clasped politely in front of him. “Fine. Friends. Best friends. If—if you really think being together would ruin us, then we’re just friends.”

“Good,” Rich said as if he couldn’t feel each cell within him bursting and bubbling with acidic heartbreak. “Friends.”

They stayed there for a moment, waiting for some finale to hit—some final blow to tattoo this night in black on their skin—but there was only burning silence.

“I’m going to bed,” Rich said finally.

Jake only nodded, still staring at the floor. Rich slipped from the room and screamed out sobs into his pillow until the sun forced light back into his life.

He stumbled through his morning routine, struggling to close his suitcase and stuff it into the trunk of their car. It wasn’t until he saw Jake, his smile bright but eyes tired, sitting alone in the dining room that the haze lifted just enough for him to realize friends ate breakfast together.

He sat down across from Jake without a word, and only once Jake looked up from his half-eaten breakfast did Rich force the skeleton of a smile onto his face. Jake mimicked it with much more success.

“Top of the morning to ya, buddy,” he said, the word buddy spat out like it hurt, “So, I was thinking, St. Louis is like an hour and a half away, maybe we stop there around noon, see the arch thingy, the move on. There’s a zoo like thirty minutes from there that we can stop at for a while. We can end the night in Wisconsin, see I don’t know, some small town, then tomorrow we can go to Minnesota?”

Rich nodded. He wasn’t sure if he could speak yet.

“Great! I’ve still gotta pack up, so just let me do that, then we can hit the road.”

Rich nodded again. Jake’s gaze lingered too long, flitting across his face, from his bloodshot eyes to his lips, before he finally looked away, his smile faltering. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll see ya in a bit, then.”

“Yeah! Can’t wait.”

Rich wished he could think of more to say, but the day seemed to be coated in an unbreakable silence. The car ride was awkward—Jake kept the radio off, choosing instead to prompt Rich with question after question as if they were kids meeting for the first time. Rich offered up every answer he had. He didn’t have many.

They stopped for ice cream sometime in the late afternoon, after a tense trip to the St. Louis arch during which Jake elbowed Rich after making a joke and Rich almost hyperventilated.

“What should I get?” Jake asked, surveying the menu.

“Whatever you want.”

“I want you.”

Rich whipped around to face him, every muscle in his body clenched and ready to fight.

“What?”

“Raspberry looks good.”

Rich didn’t push it., but the words echoed in his ribs until his lungs were bruised.

It happened again a week later. An art museum in Washington.

“It’s beautiful,” Rich said, staring in wonder at a painting of the ocean during a storm.

“So are you.”

Rich didn’t turn to look at him. He scrutinized the painting, looking at every color and brushstroke until three minutes later, Jake had to go to the bathroom.

In California: An aquarium gift shop.

“Do you like it?” Jake asked, watching Rich hold a penguin stuffed animal against his chest.

“I love it,” Rich said, his voice muffled by the fabric. He was hiding his face behind the wings so Jake wouldn’t see his eyes watering at the fact the cashier had called Jake such a good boyfriend for buying him the penguin.

“I love y—”

He had the decency to cut himself off.

“I’m glad you like it,” he amended, and it was left at that.

Until Texas. A hotel twenty minutes from the Space Center Houston only had one room. Of course.

It had two beds. Rich sat upright in one, phone in hand, Michael on the other end. Michael didn’t know what had happened between Rich and Jake, but he did know Jake was on the other side of the room, headphones on as he stared at his computer doing one thing or another. Rich watched him, still helplessly in love despite the repeated heartbreak he experienced every time they did so much as make eye contact.

“Las Vegas was so overhyped,” Rich complained, “Probably because Jake and I can’t legally gamble, but the hotel was so fucking cool. There was this giant fountain and so many lights. Almost had a panic attack because of the noise, but once I got over that it was sick.”

“Las Vegas or San Fransisco?”

“San Fransisco 100% buddy, not even a question. Food was great. I was a little scared we were gonna get devoured by a wildfire, but we ended up fine. East Coast is so much better, though. I can’t wait to get back. Jake said we can stop in the Everglades.”

“You want to got to the Everglades?!”

“Yes!! Snakes, Michael! I need to see a Burmese python and alligator fight to the death!”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m well aware, but this is a childhood dream of mine that must be fulfilled before death takes me.”

Michael laughed. Jake made a strangled sound from across the room.

Rich froze up and instinctively forced an awkward smile on his face, tense and unsure of what exactly had prompted Jake’s reaction. He glanced at his pretty sunflower out of the corner of his eye—his hunched shoulders, a posture that was so unlike him, his face illuminated by the computer screen. Rich cleared his throat to rip himself from admiring him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m hilarious,” he choked out, “Okay, it’s—it’s late, I better get going now.”

“It’s like 9—”

“Night!”

Rich hung up but stayed staring at his phone for far too long, terrified to do anything but.

“Are you okay?” Jake whispered. His computer was closed now and he was facing Rich, crisscrossed on his bed. Rich straightened and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, just tired. Sorry.”

“Have you been tired for the last three weeks?“

Rich blinked at him, too focused on the blue of his eyes to comprehend his words.

“What?” he finally said. Jake just shook his head and turned off the lamp, deciding darkness was the best course of action.

Rich thought it would be him who’d be unable to sleep, haunted by blues and I love yous, but it was Jake who tossed and turned and writhed in his sheets, wrestling with some invisible enemy long after Rich fell asleep.

When Rich awoke the next morning, it was to Jake packing his suitcase. He stayed still for a moment, admiring Jake as he carefully folded each shirt, hands gentle and sure of themselves. Since Illinois, every look he’d given Rich was coated in a layer of lies Rich hadn’t been on the receiving end of since sophomore year.

He didn’t know Rich was watching him now. He looked sad, irrevocably so. The tip of his nose was red, the first sign of sadness. Then it was the parted lips—he was a snotty crier. Rich learned that after watching Bambi with him. He’d been crying, and now he couldn’t breathe through his nose. His chest was moving up and down in stuttery, unsure movements, and after every piece of folded laundry, he had to pause to press the heel of his hand against his mouth to stifle a sob.

“What’s wrong?” Rich rushed out, the usual sluggishness of his mornings completely eradicated by Jake—Jake crying.

Jake jumped at the sound of Rich’s voice and regained his composure within a split second. There was suddenly a smile, open body language, and eyes that remained just as dead as before.

“You’re awake! I have something for you.”

“I don’t care, what’s—”

“No, no, trust me, you’ll care, hold on.”

Still smiling beautifully, he turned to the desk and grabbed two pieces of paper. Then, movements peppy and face alight, he sat down in front of Rich and handed them to him.

“Okay…?” Rich said, looking down at the pieces of paper with little interest—Jake. Crying. Jake. Crying. That was all he was worried about.

Until he realized the papers were printed out plane tickets. One to Florida, the flight set to leave eight hours from then. Another three days later, from Florida to New Jersey. He reread the words. Then reread them. And again. And again.

All he could get out was, “What the fuck?”

“You can see the Everglades!” Jake said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well—well yeah, but… we’re driving there? Together?”

Jake shook his head. “No, yeah, we were, but—I mean, after Illinois…”

He paused to clear his throat and look away. Rich was on the verge of screaming, but that could wait until Jake had finished whatever shitty explanation he was about to offer. The longer the silence lasted, the more Jake’s sunny demeanor faded out.

“After Illinois, I mean you don’t—you aren’t happy, Rich. Not around me. Last night, like, with Michael—” Rich had never heard Jake struggle with words this much. He was stuttering, tripping over his words, raising his volume too high then lowering it to the point Rich could barely hear him. “—you were talking to him, and you won’t do that with me anymore, and I want you to talk like that because it’s—fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and if you can’t do that around me anymore—because I fucked up and apparently ruined the best thing to ever happen to me—then maybe some time apart would be good for us?”

Jake looked up at Rich hopefully. Rich wasn’t sure what he was hoping for and he didn’t have the energy to figure it out through the anger crawling inside his skin.

“You’re kicking me out?”

“No! No. I just think you should have the chance to be—no, I need the chance to—I want you to be happy—”

“I’m happy.”

“You won’t even look at me. You won’t talk to me. I’m hurting you.”

Rich suddenly understood why Jake had looked so heartbroken after hearing the phrase you’re my best friend. Having his words manipulated and turned against him hurt more than the flames ever had.

“That’s—no—”

“And I thought I could fix it by just being your friend, but we’re not even that anymore. I want us to be. So badly. I can’t lose you. I can’t go to Harvard without coming home to you every night. And I’ll do anything to save us, and right now that means you have to get away from me.”

“Stop—”

“So I got you tickets to go see the Everglades. I even booked you a boat tour. I’m not sure about seeing a Burmese python, but you can try. Then you can have the rest of summer in New Jersey with Michael and everyone else, and we can meet up in Boston, and everything will be okay.”

“Jake—”

“I can’t ruin another relationship. I know I have a bad track record, I know I can’t commit or be romantic, and you’re probably right to realize I’d destroy whatever beautiful thing we managed to create, but honestly, you’re more beautiful than anything I could ever make, and I can’t destroy that, I have to protect that, even if I’m not around to see it for a while.”

“No—”

“But I can move on while we’re apart, and hopefully you can too, then we can be best friends in Boston and roommates forever and you can get married and I can pretend I’m happy for y—”

Rich kissed him. Quick and sloppy and frantic. It was hypocritical, to say the least, self-destructive if Rich was being completely honest with himself. But the feeling of Jake falling into it, pressing closer and moving so his trembling hands could press against Rich’s waist and back, was intoxicating.

Rich kept it short, though the feeling of just Jake’s gentleness was enough for him to want more.

He pulled back, Jake trailing after him until he collapsed against Rich, forehead pressed to Rich’s shoulder and lips pressed to his neck and collarbone.

“I don’t understand,” he said between kisses. Rich promised himself he’d memorize the feeling before it was taken from him.

“I’d rather be heartbroken with you than happy with anyone else,” Rich explained softly, tangling his fingers in Jake’s hair and pulling his head back to look him in the eye. Jake breathed out a sound Rich chose not to identify and tried to lean up and kiss Rich again.

“You’re not ruinous,” Rich got out just before Jake gifted him kiss after kiss like offerings to a god, “You’re not destructive and Chloe doesn’t define you and I’m sorry I implied she did, I shouldn’t have, and I’m terrified I’m gonna lose you and terrified this is all a prank and terrified you’re going to leave—”

“Never,” Jake confessed, eyes closed and expression melted into pure bliss. “Never, ever, ever. It took me too long to realize how bad I want you. I can’t lose more time.”

“I want you too.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I can be once I get my head out of my ass and realize you’re even more perfect than I thought.”

Jake laughed soundlessly and pulled Rich onto his lap. “Perfect?”

“You’re gorgeous. You’re kind. You’d never purposefully hurt me, and I was stupid to think you would. I just—it hurt. The car. You telling me—Jake, I was still in survival mode. I didn’t mean anything I said. I swear it. Please don’t make me leave.”

Jake shook his head.

“No, I won’t. I can’t. I’m sorry for what I said in the car. That wasn’t cool or okay, I just… panicked? Because I always knew—I didn’t want to say it, or think it, or acknowledge it, but I knew, and you saying it made it so real I couldn’t even pretend I could ever want anyone else and that was—I wasn’t ready for that to hit so suddenly.”

Rich felt so warm inside he was convinced he was going to overheat and collapse in on himself like a dying star. He kissed Jake like he was made of roses until he was convinced he’d erased every terrible thought he’d placed in Jake’s mind in Illinois.

“So we’re going to stop being cowards now,” Rich said, clear and determined, “And I’m going to be happy because the most beautiful boy in the world decided I’m worth his time and he’s going to be happy because now I’m here to tell him he’s the most beautiful boy in the world every single morning, and that he can’t kick me to the curb even if he tries.”

Jake laughs and nods and kisses him again.

“God,” he whispered, tracing stars on Rich’s hips, “I’ve never been so glad I wasted two thousand dollars in my life.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

There was a short, weighted pause. Then, “Wait, did you say two thousand? Jake, flights to Florida should not be two thousand dollars.”

“Well, not for economy.”

“Econ—you were planning on giving me first-class tickets to Florida to soften the blow of practically breaking up with me?”

Jake was too giddy to be offended. He wrapped himself around Rich and kissed him again.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time, shut up.”

“No, I am not shutting up, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. We’re going to seriously work on your spending habits in Boston, buddy—baby—you’ve got the rest of the summer to be an idiot with your money, then we’re starting a retirement fund. For fuck's sake, you’re going to be broke by the time you’re thirty.”

#bmc #richjake #jake dillinger #rich goranski #i can't spell i'm so tired #help me #the ending was so rushed i'm so exhausted #sorry besties #i'll try harder next time i swear #i keep thinking tomorrow is saturday which is why i stayed up so late working on this but i literally have school tmrw #whoops #sparkly star fanfic

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sillytoya · 2 years

Text

The plan begins

Summary: Dirty Diana, the nickname speaks for itself. She’s like a fever dream, one that everybody thinks they can get a taste of. After discovering things from her not so distant past, Jason Carver decided that she would be the perfect bait for his plan: break Eddie Munson. And then everything collapsed.

Part 1

Author's note: So, here is the second part! Honestly, I’m really happy with this one, pretty good for my skills. Ah, three things before the chapter: 1- Imade a Spotify playlist for the fanfic (nothing REALLY connected, but ya know), 2- I’ll be making a tag list for D.D. if you guys want to (someone remembered me the other day, thank you @ that I forgot 😅) and 3- I didn't proofread this.

Warnings: Kinda angst, psychological abuse mentioned, swearing, self hurt mention, blackmail and threatening mentioned, drug mentions (weed)

Rating: 18+ (minors do not interact) (pls guys, don't wanna be a partner in crime)

Words: 1912

After Diana left the restroom, she spent the rest of the day hidden in a corner at the parking lot, just waiting for the time to go home, that was another bad part of this unbelievable day. The last thing she needed were screams right at her ears about how one of her parents was wrong. Who decided she was a judge of irrelevant causes?

When the bell rang, she got on her feet and walked to her car. Nobody was there, people were still walking out of their classes, the only sound to be heard were the leaves bouncing by the wind, the things were calm and relaxing. At least she had time to organize her thoughts before jumping again into hell.

And it was only the first month of her senior year. Diana started to think that if she survived this, she'd somehow live forever and all the future problems would be nothing compared to this situation in terms of stress.

Diana was about to start her car, just when she saw Jason leaving the build through the rear view. He was smiling lightly like always, surrounded by his friends, like he was an amazing and innocent guy. Diana isn’t one of those really violent people, she doesn't like to see others getting hurt and all that, but some part of her, a really loud one, wanted to put her foot all the way down the back up and hit him.

He was almost passing close by the car, probably couldn’t recall it was her’s. She could blame it on the car, say that there was a defect in the brake and everything happened too fast to process and warn him before the impact. She could.

Diana tightened her grip at the steering wheel, her eyes locked on him, anger burning so much that made her head hurt. And then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m going crazy, but not that much. Calm down” Diana loosened her grip on the steering wheel and let her head fall on the car seat. She didn’t need more drama, at least not that day. And then she left the parking lot without running over anybody.

When home, Diana went straight to her room to avoid any kind of argument between her parents. She dropped her bag on the ground and started walking in circles to analyze the options she had. How could she approach Eddie Munson effectively enough to satisfy Jason Carver?

Making him trust her wouldn’t be easy. The only one hundred percent sure information she has is that Eddie hates everybody and the whole “school hierarchy” thing, he screamed somethings about it at lunchtime some times. Using her “Dark Queen” card wouldn't work well and would probably push him away. Diana has to be smooth and subtle at first. He looks tough, hard to talk to, possibly harsh trying to scare her.

But Eddie tried to make her stop to punch the restroom’s sink earlier, in the worst way, but still. Maybe because it was a really specific situation and he panicked… “Eddie Munson panicking? Nah, he doesn’t seem like that.”

Diana stayed focused in her brainstorm for some considerable amount of time, she even raised the possibility of trying to get into Hellfire Club, although she recognized it was a terrible idea and threw it out. The information Jason gave her turned out useless, she couldn’t just show up at his club or the Hideout. Who would go there on a Tuesday? No wonder nobody talks about them.

Just when an almost-good-enough-plan was forming in her head, she was distracted by a burnt smell. Diana quickly ran to see what happened. Following the smell she ended up in the kitchen, and right after that, the screams started.

“Are you out of your mind?” Her mother was pointing at something that now looked like coal, but probably was supposed to be their dinner.

“Now it’s my fault? You said two hours and a half!”

“What happened? I smelled burning, you’re okay?” Diana interrupted them trying to calm the situation, but she put gasoline on the fire.

“Your mother told me to let the chicken for two hours and a half in the oven, it burned and she’s blaming it on me!” Her father screamed his explanation.

“‘Two hours and a half’ my ass, Frank! I said one hour and a half! One! Your father is turning deaf and doesn’t accept it” her mother screamed right after.

And they were back at the yelling. Diana only wanted some time in peace, but she felt like she salted the holy supper to be so wronged by life. She needed a moment to feel light, let her brain rest a little. “Wait a damn minute” she remembered a really specific thing: Eddie was a drug dealer, he definitely has weed!

Diana leaned at the door frame of the ketching and crossed her arms and looked at the ground to think. Sure, she had smoked one or two times before, but just a puff from a friend’s and that was enough to get her a little dizzy. How much would be needed to make her relaxed enough? But most important: would that be the best way to get close to him?

“Worth the shot” Diana mumbled to herself before turning to her parents “Calm down you two, I’ll order pizza. Just please get rid of that and don’t argue anymore, it's already burned.”

Her parents looked at each other with unhappy faces, almost threatening to kill themselves, but ended agreeing and said which flavor they wanted. Diana went to her room, but before she called the pizza place, she called the friend who let her have a puff at some party. Lucky he answered quickly.

“Brian? Diana here.”

“My queen! What a lovely surprise. What’s up?” He spoke with an audible smile.

“I was wondering if you have that stuff’s’ guy contact… What’s his name again?”

“Munson? Since when you use it, Diana?” Brian laughed again.

“I don’t, but I’m in need to relax a little, ya know? Royalty is tiring, some sugar might do the trick” Diana answered in the same light tone as his.

“Fair enough” he said and started to say Munson’s number as she quickly searched for a paper to note it down.

“Thanks, Brights. You’re a lifesaver!”

“You’re always welcome, m’queen.”

After that she ordered the pizza and stayed in her room, thinking of how to talk to Eddie. How could she talk to him after that ridiculous meeting? Act like nothing happened or apologize again? Diana went through a lot of possibilities completely immersed in her thoughts, only stopping when the food arrived.

The dinner was silent and kind of tense. Her family used to be different. In a not so distant past they were talkative, relaxed, they were happy, but in the middle of 1983 it all turned into a pile of guilt, broken trust and trauma.

Diana went back to her room, looked at her phone, biting her nail for about a minute, until she decided to finally call him. Everytime it rang made her heart beat a little faster and it almost stopped when someone picked it up. She talked first.

“Hello, is it Munson?”

And it was. They had a quick conversation and she’ll be at a forgotten picnic table in the middle of the woods after class. Diana let her body fall on the bed and her mind to take a break from all the pressure. Everything will work just fine.

When Diana arrived school the next day, she acted normal, talking to people at the hall, giving suggestive looks to boys who got her eye, the usual. And then she saw Eddie Munson in the corridor, for the first time she actually noticed his appearance. The long rebel hair gives him a wild look that certally matches his personality and Diana had to admit, she kinda liked what she saw. And Diana also caught his eyes, but not only for the looks. Sure, she’s beautiful, but her attitude was the big deal for Eddie. The confidence in her walk like she owned the place, a different type of charisma that gives her the ‘Dark Queen of Hawkins High” title.

The day went on slow and boring, much to Diana’s luck, she couldn’t take any more drama. But she was anxious to see Eddie, something that she never thought would cross her mind. And wasn’t even the idea of being completely alone in the middle of the woods with a freak, like Jason loved to say, but the pressure to seduce him. Sure, Diana isn’t pure or innocent, she did a lot of things with different guys, but nothing this risky.

What leads her to the marked place with her legs trembling, all alone, immersed in her own thoughts. Until she heard footsteps, making her wake up and look at where the sound came.

“Hello, Dark Queen” the way Eddie Munson spoke, a little theatrical, made Diana let a snort out as he walked to the other side of the picnic table to sit.

“Hello, Mr. Munson” she looked at him with a light smile but right after turned her gaze down to the table. “Listen, I’m here for the good stuff. Believe me, I’m really needing it right now. But first, I want to apologize for, you know, yesterday” she looked serious at Eddie, who was a little surprised by the apology.

“Uh, well, I would do the same if someone fucking grabbed me by the arms from behind in a restroom. Wasn’t my smartest move. Sorry ‘bout that” there he goes making Diana snort again.

“It’s fine, you tried to help me. Well, you kinda did, my hands aren’t even bruised,” she lifted her arms to show him “see? You held me like no other man ever did, Munson.” She winked with a sly smile, ripping a chuckle from him.

“It’s a pleasure to please the Dark Queen” Eddie’s smile matched her’s before they started to laugh. Diana was surprisingly amused by his easy going self, nothing like he acted in public, nothing like Jason says.

“You know, you’re really different from what I thought you’d be like” Diana rested her arms by the table and looked directly at him.

“Mean and scary?”

“More like harsh and trying to scare me off” she emphasized the “trying” part as her sly smile showed up again. Eddie gasped at her as his hands went above his heart, comically offended.

“You don’t think I’m scary? I’m a freak, your majesty! I’m a cult leader” he put his hands by his head to make horns and made a ‘demon’ noise.

“Oh, please! I saw people doing way more harmful things than having a club with a weird name” with that Eddie stood up to walk around the table.

“Okay, first, it’s not weird, it’s cool. And second,” he got closer to her and lowered till her height “you don’t know that.” They were staring at each other's eyes, Diana was enjoying this, Eddie’s big eyes were hypnotic in some way.

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

“Try me, big boy.” Eddie could say the same about Diana too. The iris of her eyes caughted him under some sort of magnetism, difficult to tear his gaze apart. “But let’s do it another day. Now,” she was the one to turn the face away “how does it work exactly?”

Thanks for reading!

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #st fanfic #stranger things angst #st angst #eddie munson #eddie munson X character #dirty diana #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst

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lambden · 1 year

Text

last week's fics got revealed for the witcher flash fic challenge, which means I can finally publish mine here! i chose to write about letho, gaetan, and geralt having a threesome on a roof while they're all smoking that Wizard Weed. hope somebody enjoys this other than me; rarepair hell is more fun with friends!

E, 5.7K, Letho/Geralt/Gaetan. Warnings for inconsistent mishmash of Witcher canons, consensual drugged sex, recreational drug use (weed), top Letho, and established Letho/Gaetan. if you want to know more about the specific consent warnings relating to drug use, i put additional details in the end notes on AO3. enjoy!

also on AO3 if you prefer!

Geralt’s first clue that something is wrong is that, by all appearances, nothing is wrong.

The town is lovely, if not noteworthy; on his ride in he sees verdant pastures with fat livestock grazing happily on plentiful vegetation. When he stops to harvest some extra herbs nobody calls out ‘thief’ or anything worse. In fact, everyone he passes greets him with either a smile or a nod, nobody seeming too bothered by the presence of a witcher. This bothers Geralt immensely.

He reaches the epicentre; a small town square that smells sharply of a spice or herb he doesn’t recognize. There are bards playing soft music and carts heaped high with pastries, fruit, and charms for tourists. Geralt, technically a tourist, looks over the charms— they are all crudely fashioned, whether woven or carved, and all depict the same… tiger… bear… jaguar, thing. He can’t quite tell if it’s meant to be a warg or a big cat, only that its fur (?) is dark green and its expression is pleasant and wise.

Geralt grimaces, shaking his head at the shopkeeper. They grin and hold out one of the charms anyway. “For good luck,” they tell him.

Geralt can count on one hand how many times a stranger has wished him luck in recent memory. He frowns, tucking the charm away into a pocket of Roach’s saddlebags only because it has absolutely no trace of magic, and perhaps he could pawn it off later for something.

The next major clue that something is amiss in this hidden paradise is the empty noticeboard. Even a pleasant town like this should have at least a few complaints, if not contracts; even in perfect places dogs go missing and children get sick. But the board is bare, with no recent indentations from nails. Geralt’s frown only darkens.

“You,” he grabs a passing man by the shoulder; a lush, judging from his rosy cheeks and how his eyes hardly widen as Geralt holds him in place. But not the kind of drunk who might run around causing issues, just someone peacefully intoxicated in the early afternoon. He smells of wine and of that same indiscernible scent that lingers around the rest of the town square. “Why are there no contracts here?”

“Praise Sylva!” slurs the man. He doesn’t even shrug off Geralt, let alone throw a punch. Geralt, used to significantly harsher treatment from strangers, drops him in disgust. “If we did have any contracts, sure they would’ve been taken by the witchers what just came through here last… last week?”

This oddity, strangely, puts Geralt at ease. Maybe this town is only so peaceful because all its threats have temporarily been disbanded. While this means an empty coinpurse and stomach for him, it does bring him some temporary relief. “Oh?”

“Think they’ve been here since last week,” the man muses. “Two of them witchers, you know… One big fella. Biiiig fella. And one little bald one. Matter of fact, both of them bald… not like you!”

The drunk reaches out to touch his hair, and Geralt thankfully puts that terrible impulse to rest with a withering glare. “Where can I find these two?”

“Pub,” offers the man, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Geralt leans around him to see said pub; there are horses tied up in front, although none familiar to him. When he categorises all the witchers he knows by hair or lack thereof, it isn’t hard to deduce who might be travelling together— despite how often the pair of them complain about each other.

Sure enough, when he opens the door to the (pristine, tastefully decorated, lively but not raucous) tavern, Geralt sees two witchers sitting on the same side of one table. It’s like a terrible joke waiting for a terrible punchline.

Already amused, he watches the ‘biiiig fella’ notice him first, and promptly deliver a sharp jab to his companion’s side; said companion lifts his head, sees Geralt, and then moves to put some space between him and Letho so quickly that he nearly falls right off the bench.

“Geralt,” Gaetan declares, a little too loudly. “I never expected to run into two witchers here! Shit, it’s like the beginning of a bad joke!”

Geralt takes a seat across from them, not bothering to hide his amusement. Letho looks amused too, although Geralt can only detect it because he knows the man so well; he quickly raises his cup to cover his smirk, but the damage has been done. Geralt exchanges a look with him, then turns back to stare at Gaetan. “I heard about the two of you, but I didn’t think there was any truth to it. You know how Cats love gossip.”

Before Gaetan can cuss him out in a hundred different languages or just pounce across the table and wrestle him to the ground, Letho brings up a broad hand and lays it on his companion’s shoulder. The change is immediate; the anger drains from Gaetan in an instant, and Geralt watches with a strange, curious hunger gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Then Letho says, “Well, we’ve heard you haven’t been travelling alone either,” and Geralt’s frown returns with a vengeance. “Where is the little bird?”

They all know he doesn’t mean Ciri. Geralt grinds his teeth together, and answers anyway, “She’s with Yen.”

“I meant the little songbird,” teases Letho, in that infuriatingly slow and deep voice that always cuts right to Geralt’s core. “The bards here are fine, but all they sing about is fucking Sylva.”

Desperate to get off the topic of Jaskier and to learn more information about this bizarre town, Geralt lunges on this. “What’s Sylva?”

Letho and Gaetan exchange a look that he can’t read, and then both turn to him. “You haven’t been to see Sylva yet?”

Sylva, as it turns out, is…

“A warg,” Geralt guesses. Letho and Gaetan, standing on either side of him, both shake their heads; he frowns. “No?”

“Tiger,” Gaetan says, as Letho tells him matter-of-factly, “Bear.” They lean around Geralt to glare at each other, and then Letho steps closer to the warg-tiger-bear thing.

What it is is uncertain, but a small amount chaos radiates from it. Geralt thinks, ruefully, of the charm he’d accepted without proper suspicion. The plant is massive, nearly the size of a real warg, but Letho moves towards it without hesitation. It looks similar to the sculpted bushes Geralt has seen in the gardens of disgustingly wealthy nobility, and in this lush rainforest a little outside the town, it nearly looks at home. Like a real creature slumbering in the woods, only instead of sinew and blood, one made of moss and dew.

Geralt tenses as Letho approaches the plant formation; Gaetan, either seeing his stress or feeling it through his witcher senses, reaches out to place a gentle, unasked hand on his shoulder. It’s exactly the same kind of tender physical comfort that comes easily to Jaskier, and it’s like no behaviour that Geralt has ever seen Gaetan display before. He can’t even think of any time he’s seen the Cat witcher touch anyone, except earlier when Letho touched him.

His palm is warm, and his pulse is slow but solid. The message is clear; relax. Ironic that a Cat is telling him to relax, and exponentially more ironic that Gaetan is that Cat. But Letho doesn’t seem worried about Sylva either, so Geralt doesn’t shove Gaetan off and, begrudgingly, relaxes.

“We thought it might be a sylvan at first,” Letho tells him.

He uses ‘we’ as casually as anything, implying a new depth to their relationship. From what Geralt had heard (from Lambert, by way of Lambert’s Cat lover who Lambert adamantly denies the existence of) Letho and Gaetan had only been hooking up occasionally. Hate-fucking had been the word of choice. This is anything but hateful, and from how Letho describes their investigations as though they operate as a unit, Geralt would guess it’s more than occasional.

He keeps quiet as the Viper continues; “You know. Sylva, sylvan… everyone in town swears by this big plant. Says it’s their god, it blessed their crops, their marriages, it brings them rain and shine when needed. We thought it might’ve been some benevolent spirit who chose this town. Easy pickings.”

Geralt thinks, sourly, of a town near Skellige that was similarly ‘blessed’ by a deity that had turned out to be a leshen. “Does it answer their prayers?”

“Not verbally,” Gaetan replies. “But they say Sylva brings love to the loveless, money to the destitute… There were no contracts when we got here either.”

“Hmm.”

“At first, we just intended to stick around for the night,” Letho continues. “Not often you venture into a nice place willing to host a witcher for free, let alone two. And Gaetan thought there was something else afoot, and couldn’t let it lie.”

The Cat shrugs. Geralt narrows his gaze, looking carefully at Sylva. He’d like to carve the big plant open and see what lies inside its branches; perhaps a godling with a penchant for animals has made their home there. But if Letho and Gaetan have already stayed here for nearly a week, they surely would have uncovered this beast’s dark secret by now. Hesitantly, Geralt prods, “And is there…? Something else going on?”

“Yes and no,” Gaetan says. “Nothing spiritual— the local herbalist witch fessed up on our third day here. She said she maintains the plant and casts spells of protection on Sylva; small things, so that it won’t rot or catch any nasty infestations. But over the years, a whole local mythology has grown around this fucking plant. They really think the beast watches over them.”

Geralt stares. How anticlimactic— once more, unbidden, he thinks of the bard and how disappointed he would be in this story’s finale. Then, to divert his thoughts from Jaskier, he quickly says, “So… she maintains the hedge so that the town doesn't lose its spirit? That’s all?”

“Well. No.” Letho leans down to pluck a leafy section from the mossy beast. Sylva doesn’t move or protest in any way, despite the amateurish protective wards, and Letho cups his bounty carefully in both hands. With the same smirk he wore earlier, he murmurs, “That’s not all.”

“Praise Sylva,” Geralt proclaims to the stars above, which swim around in his blurred vision. From the streets below them he hears a distant whoop of agreement; although it might have been a birdcall. He lifts his head to check but can’t see over the lip of the rooftop, and craning his neck is immediately uncomfortable, so he relaxes back down on the straw beside Gaetan. “Praise fucking Sylva!”

“Now he gets it,” Gaetan grins, nudging Letho with his elbow. The Viper is curled up behind the Cat, one possessive arm slung over his chest; Gaetan reaches back to put the small bundle of herbs to Letho’s lips, and Letho inhales heavily, his breath igniting it once more.

The skies are peaceful and free of clouds, and only the lightest breeze bothers them. Geralt still shivers as he watches Gaetan hold the joint up to Letho’s lips. They had told him of a concentrate that the herbalist crafted with Sylva’s leaves and sap, but this seems like a more organic way to ingest the offerings of the forest beast. And inhaling the plant directly won’t do too much damage, since their tolerance is much higher as witchers.

Geralt laughs quietly, thinking of how all this town’s problems were miraculously solved— not by a god, nor by anything posing as a god, but by an herbalist supplying the solution to all their maladies.

Gaetan and Letho both watch him, wearing matching soft expressions, as Gaetan takes the joint away from Letho to hand it back to Geralt. They’ve been lying on this rooftop for at least half an hour, and in that time the three witchers have moved very little. Geralt wonders if Letho has been holding onto Gaetan since they all first lay down. He notices now in clearer detail how close they are; their legs are pressed together. He wants to demand answers— how long have you been snuggling? How long have you two been travelling together?

He stays silent, his gaze snapping back up from their legs to meet Gaetan’s. The Cat looks amused, and brandishes the small bundle at Geralt. “Finish it off,” he insists, and Geralt does.

The plume of smoke that he exhales at the end of the bundle smells just like everything else in this town. He thinks, unwittingly, of Jaskier. Maybe he was wrong in his judgement earlier; maybe the bard would enjoy it here. Maybe, up on a rooftop like this, on a thick bed of straw, he and Jaskier could curl up together like Gaetan and Letho.

He hasn’t been that close to Jaskier since the bard was younger and they would seek warmth from each other’s bodies on the cold and unforgiving Path. Back then, it had never blossomed into anything more intimate than what it was. Up here, assisted by the herb that keeps this place afloat, perhaps it could.

Geralt opens his eyes to see Letho and Gaetan still both watching him closely. Gaetan speaks all at once, almost as though he’s unable to stay silent any longer, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Geralt lies calmly, rolling back onto his side to face the pair of them. He tosses the extinguished butt of the joint away from the straw pile, and lets out a heavy, deeply satisfied sigh. His face burns, his whole body tingles, and he wiggles his toes in his socks. Gods, he could use a nice long bath. “They have baths inside?”

Letho nods, but Gaetan retorts, “You don’t look too dirty; not for a witcher, anyway. That sorceress of yours finally teach you some basic hygiene?”

“She’s not mine,” Geralt rumbles. Once, the confession would have brought him pain to speak. Now he just utters it as plainly as he would any other fact. He and Yen haven’t belonged to each other in a long time; it’s better this way. She will never lose importance in his life, but the yearning that drove them both so mad has finally been put to rest. For her pleasure, Yen seeks out other, equally hygienic sorceresses now. And for Geralt’s—

Annoyingly, the Cat seems to read his mind. “That little bard, then?”

“Hmm.” Geralt stretches. “Don’t know what you’ve heard from Aiden, but it’s all a pack of lies.”

“Come on, Wolf! A handsome witcher like you, you really haven’t found anyone to make an honest man out of yet?” Gaetan scoffs. “I don’t believe that shit.”

“It’s not supposed to work like that for witchers,” Geralt speaks without thinking. Then he tenses; Letho and Gaetan are both silent and passive. If he struck a nerve, neither of them shows it. He apologizes regardless, “I’m not— not saying you two aren’t, uh, you know, just—”

“Bless him, he’s stammering,” Gaetan laughs meanly. He twists under Letho’s arm smoothly, without dislodging the Viper, and presses a kiss to his lips. Abruptly, the gnawing pit in Geralt’s stomach that has been bothering him since he walked into that tavern and saw them next to each other drops. Gaetan doesn’t pull away or make any attempt at hiding his affection; he kisses Letho long, and deeply, until finally pulling away only enough to whisper against his lips. Even if Geralt didn’t have supernatural hearing he thinks he would still be able to make the words out. “You never mentioned that the White Wolf was so shy, darling.”

“He wasn’t,” Letho mutters back. Geralt doesn’t have to see his smirk to know it’s there; he can hear it in the sly, almost challenging tone. The Viper lifts Gaetan up onto his chest with nearly no effort; if Geralt wasn’t already lying down, his knees might buckle. Gaetan adjusts to his new position atop Letho immediately, bracketing the witcher’s thick thighs with his knees and nosing happily at his neck. Letho glances over, his yellow eyes finding Geralt’s. “He's the one who taught me that naughty Gwent game, decades ago in Velen.”

Geralt’s breath leaves him all at once. He remembers those nights in vivid detail, but he hadn’t thought Letho would recall their handful of dalliances; they had never slept together more than one night in a row, and they’d never been sober.

Then again, Geralt considers, none of them are sober right now. His traitorous, fearful heart thrums. Geralt has never been seduced by two people at once before.

Letho brings one hand up to cradle the back of Gaetan’s skull, dropping the other to the base of his spine, and it occurs to Geralt that the Cat is actually not scenting his throat but biting it. He catches the sharp scent of lust in the air, although it’s impossible to determine who it might have arisen from. His head swims in a way he can’t entirely blame on Sylva’s herb.

“If you don’t want to,” Letho says, slowly as ever, “all good. It’s been a long time since you and I fooled around; I’m sure you’ve changed. I know I’ve got a couple new scars.” A tremor or twitch distorts his otherwise restful face for a moment; Geralt’s pulse rushes. Gaetan must be biting along one of those scars now. Letho’s breath comes a little faster as he continues, “But I can’t stop him once he’s got an idea in his head. So either get over yourself and come over here, or go inside and take a nice long bath.”

“And think of us while you do,” Gaetan chimes in, muffled by Letho’s thick neck. Without hesitation, the Viper reaches down to smack his ass; it happens so quickly Geralt nearly misses the motion. But he doesn’t miss the way Gaetan goes still for a moment, his whole body tensing up before he leans back against Letho’s palm, clearly eager for more.

Geralt gets over himself quickly. He rises up uncertainly on the bed of straw; both of the other witchers twist to look his way. When he crawls closer instead of standing, Gaetan blesses him with a rare, genuine smile. Letho nods, equally pleased, but doesn’t take his hands off of Gaetan.

Maybe he has changed since their old hook-ups; even with the herb mellowing him out, Geralt feels strangely vulnerable up on his knees, looking down at the entwined pair. Quietly, he pleads, “Tell me where you want me.”

“Right there is perfect,” Letho rumbles. Without being asked, Gaetan clambers off of the Viper and over to Geralt. He rises up to meet him hard, kissing him like… well, it’s like no one Geralt has ever kissed before. He sinks into it, especially as Gaetan deepens their kisses, sliding his tongue shamelessly alongside Geralt’s. Geralt, to his great embarrassment, hears himself moan; then, because it feels so good, he does it again. The sound is unbelievably filthy, muffled by Gaetan’s clever tongue; Geralt sucks hard just to see the reaction and Gaetan, not to be outdone, groans into their kiss and reaches for the clasps of Geralt’s armour.

“Slow down, kitty,” Letho teases. Hearing that deep voice always does such dangerous things to Geralt, and now is no exception; he’s gratified to feel a similar response from Gaetan, whose hands still on Geralt’s chest although his mouth does no such thing. Geralt kisses back, chasing the sensation, until heavy hands come up alongside them, pressing them to lie down in the hay. “Slow down,” Letho urges. “Feel it out, first.”

“Easy for you to say,” Gaetan grunts, pulling back from Geralt slowly. As if it taxes him to do so. “You’ve already had him.” Geralt, still high, follows the heat of his mouth until he realizes that Gaetan is actually moving away. Then he leans back into the straw underneath him, slightly embarrassed to have been slow on the uptake. Usually witchers are two moves ahead of their partners in bed.

Gaetan doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he just doesn’t mind; his hungry gaze is still fixed on Geralt. Letho, kneeling beside them and watching Geralt with the same intensity, purrs low in his throat, “He’s wanted this for a long time, you know. Ever since I mentioned what you and I used to get up to, Wolf. It’s a big fantasy for him.”

“Shut up,” Gaetan whispers, in a tone that clearly indicates he wants Letho to do anything but.

Geralt reaches down to rub himself through his armour; two sharp amber gazes follow his movement. Under the moonlight, he feels like he’s performing for them. He walks that thought back quickly enough that it can’t do any damage, and asks Gaetan, “What are you waiting for?”

“Permission,” the Cat breathes. Geralt almost nods; but before he can give his tacit approval of anything and everything Gaetan wants from him, Letho nods, placing his broad hand on the back of Gaetan’s narrow neck. Geralt flushes with pleasure. Not his permission, but Letho’s. This is his first time feeling like an outsider during lovemaking; he’s sensing there might be a few firsts crossed off his list tonight, and he finds he doesn’t mind at all.

Gaetan pounces, drawing his trouser fastenings free of his armour and then shoving the whole kit down and off. Geralt’s cock springs up, already leaking at the tip— maybe the herb was an aphrodisiac as well. Or maybe he just feels that good, half-naked with two attractive witchers in front of him, both intent on making him feel great. Gaetan lowers his talented mouth to the head of Geralt’s cock, and Geralt slams his head back down against the straw.

It lands with an unsatisfying thud, but looking up at the starry night is easier than watching the Cat devour him. The pressure, wetness, and warmth feel unbelievable anyway; Geralt stifles a moan as Gaetan sinks down, taking his length into his throat.

Letho is there, striking quickly as always— quick enough to take him by surprise. Geralt gasps as Letho grabs his head the same way he’d held Gaetan’s skull. The Viper’s fingers are likely large enough to do some serious damage if he wanted; he lifts Geralt’s head, and Geralt doesn’t struggle, too awed by his strength. “Look,” growls Letho, pressing his head down until his chin touches his chest.

Helpless, he looks. Gaetan bobs up and down on his length, sucking it in sloppily every time it nearly slips out of his mouth. The witcher’s slender hand is wrapped around the base, because— Geralt realizes with a jolt— he can’t fit all of it in his mouth. Geralt itches to reach down and make him try anyway, but he doesn’t want to have bad manners. He’s not the one in control here anyway.

Letho’s fingers weave through Geralt’s hair, as though the Wolf is in any danger of running. He murmurs against his ear, “Should’ve made him drink a Killer Whale beforehand,” and Geralt’s cock pulses at the filthy idea. “Bet then he’d be able to take you without choking.”

“Fuck you,” Gaetan pulls off to angrily retort, and it takes great self-control to avoid coming all over his face. “I don’t need any fucking potion!”

To prove his point, and rise to Letho’s bait, the Cat lowers his mouth slowly until Geralt can feel his throat clenching around his cock, and he can’t help but dribble a little. Gaetan, to his immense credit, doesn’t choke; instead he hollows out his cheeks and starts sucking Geralt off with renewed effort, until he’s taking him to the root every time.

“Letho,” Geralt chokes out, a warning meant for both of them. But Gaetan doesn’t pull off, and the Viper doesn’t move to make him do so. Letho’s deft, thick fingers creep through the loose ponytail still holding Geralt’s hair up, and he tugs— not hard enough to really hurt, but firmly enough that the stars in the sky fall right into Geralt’s vision and then shoot through his cock down Gaetan’s throat.

He comes for a long moment, and the other witcher sucks him down through all of it, swallowing up Geralt’s spend like Letho told him to. Perhaps they have a code; perhaps they don’t need one. Geralt gasps, loud and clear into the night. It is a small mercy that no one hears— even in a town so forgiving and welcoming, he’s sure they wouldn’t appreciate their beauty sleep disturbed by a bunch of high witchers getting it on above the local inn.

When he comes back down to reality, brain still addled and blood still rushing, he sees Gaetan moving around him to kiss Letho. Geralt turns his head so as to properly watch, figuring it’s his turn to enjoy the show. But Letho just bites Gaetan’s lip hard enough to make him gasp once before pushing the Cat away again. “He’s not done with you, Wolf,” rumbles the Viper. “Just reminding me how you taste.”

“Fuck,” says Geralt, his softening cock making a valiant effort to harden again. He reaches down to carefully, gently roll his balls in his palm, and Gaetan, watching closely, licks his lips. Weakly, the Wolf mutters, “You two will be the fucking death of me tonight.”

“Praise Sylva,” Gaetan teases, blowing a kiss in Geralt’s direction. Geralt reaches up half-heartedly to try to catch it, reflexes slowed by the excellent orgasm and the remainder of the herb.

All three of them chuckle at that, and then Letho bends down, still laughing softly, to give Geralt a real kiss. It feels so natural and right that his heart swells; he can’t remember why he ever stopped seeking out the company of the other witcher. And he’s feeling just relaxed enough to actually share the sentiment.

Softly against Letho’s mouth, Geralt whispers, “I missed this.”

Letho smirks and kisses him once more. “Me too,” he rumbles. “Hope you’re ready to go again, Wolf; I brought along a special toy to open you up so you can take me. Just like the old days.”

The special toy in question happily replaces Geralt’s hand on his balls, honest-to-fuck purring as he rolls them between his fingers and then slides his slick hand lower. He must have oiled his fingers while the other two were distracted; clever fucking Cat.

Geralt gasps into Letho’s mouth, and then again as Gaetan breaches him with two digits. Letho chases the noises and draws more out, sucking on Geralt’s tongue. He kisses the same way as Gaetan does; Geralt supposes that makes sense, given that they must practise with each other.

Then the Viper pulls back, rummaging through the bag Geralt failed to notice before. He retrieves another sprig of the plant, tearing off a long leaf with his thumb and starting to crush the mossy flower into smaller pieces with his palm. Geralt stares closely as Letho rolls up the bundle of herbs one-handed, and the witcher mistakes his fascination for apprehension. “Don’t want it?”

“Don’t need it,” Geralt confirms, and then, a second later as Gaetan crooks his fingers inside, “but, but, fuck! Might feel nice…! Shit, Gaetan, anyone ever tell you you’re fucking good with your hands?”

“Just wait ’til you feel my cock,” Gaetan laughs. His fingers twist again, hitting the same sensitive spot that makes Geralt’s head spin; no smoking required. He slides in another finger and it barely stretches him. “Take a hit, Wolf. Might help you relax a bit.”

“Funny, you telling me to relax,” Geralt huffs, even though— shit, had he already said that? He manages his best frown even as he practically fucks himself on Gaetan’s long, skilled fingers. It feels different than when he’s been fingered in the past; he’s more on edge. Maybe that’s because of Letho’s hot presence next to him. Geralt wonders if anyone has ever seen him get fingered before.

Maybe once— at a brothel in Novigrad— there hadn’t been proper partitions between the rooms but instead fluttering curtains— between sweating through his shirt and trying not to make too much noise he swore he saw bright blue eyes fixed on him from the next room—

“Give it to me,” Geralt demands, roughly. Letho and Gaetan laugh, but not unkindly. Smoothly enough that it’s clear he’s done this many times over the last week, Letho casts a small Igni and lights the blunt, heavily inhaling its thick, strong smoke. With the same smooth motion and in the same instant, Gaetan pulls out his slick hand. Letho bends down, cupping Geralt’s jaw with broad fingers, and blows smoke into his open mouth— just as Gaetan finally slides into his ass, teasing Geralt with just the tip of his thick length.

“Ah, sh-shit,” Geralt coughs, surprised. Letho doesn’t let him up, and Geralt inhales most of the hit without coughing again. His lungs fill with the hazy smoke and his mind blissfully clears. Gaetan pushes the head of his cock in and out of Geralt, seemingly enjoying himself as he pants every time it catches on the entrance. Geralt chokes out, “You’re bigger than the toy.”

Gaetan shoots him a brilliant, beautiful smile, then rewards him for the praise by reaching down to pick up Geralt’s knees and sink into him fully. Geralt pants at the stretch, finally breaking a sweat; Letho, caring as ever, brushes the hair back off his forehead. “You’re being so good for him,” promises the Viper quietly. “He’s going to make you feel so nice.”

“Yeah,” Geralt gasps. With his bare legs held up by Gaetan, who’s barely flexing, he feels untethered from the earth and even more vulnerable than before. The herb takes effect quickly, and while it feels wonderfully different from any witcher liquor or fun potion, he has to briefly fight off the strange sensation of floating up into the endless starry sky.

Then he becomes conscious of his own socks, his ankles softly rubbing against Gaetan’s sweaty back with every push inside. Straw pokes into Geralt’s back underneath him, where his armour and shirt have rolled up out of the way thanks to all the motion. The slight itchiness calms him, but also annoys him.

Then, finally, after what feels like forever, Letho has a hand in his hair and pulls it so slowly that it feels tender. “So pretty,” coaxes the Viper, and Geralt obediently turns to him. Letho has lost his pants too; Geralt nearly laughs at the three of them only in their shirts. Like witcher initiates fooling around late at night, too scared to fully undress and get caught.

Geralt isn’t scared at all. He reaches up to place a hand on Letho’s chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. The Viper gets the memo, and he disrobes faster than any human could. Geralt stares in wonder, and Gaetan’s pace slows; he still fucks Geralt but now it feels like he’s hitting deeper and deeper every time. Geralt groans, unable to restrain the noise, bouncing with every thrust forward, and Letho says, “Cat, how you doing? Feel as good as you thought it would?”

“Better,” Gaetan mumbles, adjusting his grip on Geralt’s legs. “Way better. Fuck, Geralt, thank you.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Geralt gasps. “Thank you, asshole.”

“Had to repay you somehow,” the Cat whimpers. Geralt turns to face him as sharply as he can, and when he sees Gaetan smiling down at him his nerves are instantly set at ease. This wouldn’t have felt as good if it were just repayment, or a favour to a friend; Gaetan genuinely wants this. His hands are shaking as he holds up Geralt’s knees, a surefire sign that he’s close to his release. When he tries to speak again, he stutters through it, “Gonna— gonna come in you, alright?”

“What a gentleman,” teases Geralt breathlessly, even as Gaetan rocks him with every thrust. Mimicking what the Cat had said earlier, he turns to look at the Viper. “Bless him, he’s stammering. Letho, I never thought your bitch would be so shy.”

Gaetan swears a string of broken curses and pushes deep inside Geralt, filling him— it feels hotter than fire, and he groans just as loudly as Gaetan. Then Letho, with a few pulls that almost look lazy in counterpoint, strokes himself off and, before anyone else realizes he’s about to, comes all over Geralt’s face.

“Fuck,” Geralt breathes, reaching up to wipe dripping come off his chin. Before he can clean any of it off, Gaetan lunges, lowering himself onto Geralt without pulling out. The movement and closeness makes Geralt gasp again, and he doesn’t stop breathing hard as Gaetan licks over his face and jaw shamelessly. “Fucking gods damn, you two,” Geralt mumbles. Then, because he’s in a fucking amazing mood, and his cock is still hard as hell, he dares to push it further; “I thought the plan was for Letho to come inside me too?”

“Plan hasn’t changed,” Letho grins, in a crooked sort of way that makes precome leak out of Geralt’s already red, sore cock. It smears against Gaetan’s stomach and Geralt struggles to find his breath, still grappling with the weight of Gaetan’s cock inside him. “Night’s still young, Wolf.”

In the morning— the late, late, very late, technically the next morning, for clarification— the three witchers walk out of the inn, freshly bathed and full and content. None even bear a limp to betray how they so defiled the roof of the good, friendly, spiritual town. No one passing seems bothered at all with the presence of a witcher, let alone three.

As they pass by the farms on their way out of town, a stablehand who beat his hangover with Sylva’s help yesterday recognizes Geralt. He claps delightedly at the sight of the trio, paying little mind to their intimidating armour or six swords. “Wow! That’s not something you see every day!” cries the man. “Three witchers walk out of a town— gods, it’s like a bad joke!”

The shortest of the witchers, wearing a Cat medallion on his chest and a face-splitting grin, throws back over his shoulder, “Yeah, you should hear the fucking punchline!”

#vipurr fic #vipurr #letho fic #gaetan fic #letho x geralt #is there a portmanteau for gaetan/geralt or letho/geralt... help i hate tagging #my writing #flash fic challenge

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Until You Fall Asleep

After moving in with the crew to help cure your quarantine boredom, you find a new way to deal with your insomnia.

Request: “Could you please do a Colson fanfic where you're a friend of the gang and you move into their house for quarantine so you're not alone. Colson finds out you have terrible insomnia and starts staying up to keep you company and you gradually start sleeping in his bed because it's the only place you seem to actually sleep. You start to get really close through these late night chats, watching films, sharing stuff and opening up to each other... Friendship starts to develop into something else. I need some fluff to see me through these sleepless nights! 🙏😘 Thanks!”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3487

Living with your best friends during a nationwide quarantine seemed like a good idea when you agreed to it, but after the 5th night of wandering the huge house late at night because you couldn’t sleep, you were starting to think you should’ve stayed where you were. At least at your own place, you didn’t have to worry about sneaking around so as not to wake anyone up.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice that you woke up earlier than everyone else in the house or went to sleep later. Or if they did, no one said anything.

Day five

Tonight hadn’t been going so well. You had tried showering, you hadn’t eaten for at least a few hours before trying to sleep, you turned your lavender diffuser on, you’d even tried yoga. Nothing helped, and you were left staring at your ceiling.

Frustrated and uncomfortable, you rolled out of your bed, sock clad feet pattering across your room and slowly pulling your door open. You made your way through the house and out to the pool, letting the cool night air wash over you. A deep breath fell from your lips as you began to pace around the deck, hoping to tire yourself out enough to sleep.

After a few minutes, you heard the sliding glass door open, looking up and finding Colson stepping out with a blunt in his hand. He smiled tiredly at you, “you’re up early.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what time is it?” You figured it was 4, maybe 5 am.

“Almost 7,” he looked concerned, “you okay?”

You were trying to figure out how you managed to stay up until 7 am without a wink of sleep, “yeah, just couldn’t sleep. It’s cool though. Why are you up?”

Colson lit the blunt as he spoke, “couldn’t sleep either.”

Day eight

You found yourself curled up on the couch, reading a book at 5:30 in the morning after hours of trying to fall asleep. You swore if you stayed in your room a second longer, you’d break something, so you snuck out to the TV room with the most boring book you could find.

“Do you ever sleep?” Colson’s voice surprised you, making you jump lightly in your seat. The man chuckled at your reaction, taking a seat next to you.

You pouted at his glee, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He shrugged, “sleep is for the weak.”

A sarcastic chuckle fell from your lips, “oh yeah, I feel so strong and cool right now.”

The man laughed with you, but soon turned serious, “serious though, are you good? Both nights this week I haven’t slept you’ve been awake, and I know you don’t take naps.”

You sighed, “it’s just insomnia, I’ve been dealing with it on and off for a couple years now. It’s not a big deal.”

He cocked his head in curiosity and worry, “how much sleep have you been getting?”

You ducked your head in embarrassment, “I slept for an hour at like 3, hopefully I’ll fall asleep again at some point tonight.”

Colson frowned, “can I help at all?”

A small smile fell upon your face, “sometimes talking helps, but honestly not much else. It’s not that big of a problem, though. I’ve been dealing with this for a while, I’m used to it.”

He looked shocked, “dude, you sleep for a few hours every night! That’s a problem. I don’t even know how you’re still alive.”

“Like you’ve never gone a couple days in a row without sleeping,” you said sarcastically.

“No! I go to sleep late as fuck, but I sleep eventually most nights. You’re on a whole different level.” His tone was slightly defensive, if not concerned, “do I need to get you some pills or something? I can do that.”

Your eyes went wide, “Jesus, Kells, no. I have enough to deal with, I don’t need another addiction on my hands too.”

He chuckled, “I’m just saying it might help. I’m assuming weed does nothing?”

You sighed sadly, “it did for a while, but I think my body got used to it. I just have to wait it out until I inevitably pass out.”

“Well, guess I’ll just bother you until you fall asleep.” He relaxed further into the couch, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Colson, you really don’t have to-“

“You won’t let me get you drugs, so I’m gonna stay up with you. It’s the least I can do.” He smiled widely, knowing he would get his way.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

Day Twelve

“You think that Captain America has the best character arc? Seriously?”

Your nightly chats with Colson had moved into his room after Baze was woken up by Colson’s loud laughter during a conversation about what type of dogs you’d both be. So, you were sat cross legged on his bed, facing each other in deep conversation.

The man tried to defend his stance to you, “okay, I know everyone loves Tony’s whole asshole to hero thing, but Captain America went from this goody two shoes to this badass criminal and he still got the girl in the end.”

You shook your head, “you’re just wrong in every way. I’m not even saying Iron Man had a better story, but literally every other character developed more than Steve. He wasn’t that badass in the end, and the fact that he went back to get the girl just proves he never really changed all that much. He was static.”

“So, you’re telling me, if we watched every single movie with Captain America in it, you wouldn’t be entertained?” He crossed his arms and leaned backwards, eyeing you challengingly.

You scoffed, “the movies are fine, I just think that Marvel has produced better superheroes with better plotlines.”

“New plan, we’re going to watch every marvel movie in order and then you can tell me that I’m right.” He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV across from his bed.

Rolling your eyes, you moved back to lean against the headrest, legs spread out in front of you, “you’re not right, but I’ll watch them just to see the look on your face when you realize you’re wrong.”

Colson flopped down on the bed next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you so that you were leaning into his side. A yawn escaped his mouth, “if you get tired, let me know.”

You giggled, “I’m always tired, I just can’t sleep. I won’t get offended if you fall asleep though.”

He pulled a face, “I’m not falling asleep.”

About an hour into the movie the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated differently. You chuckled to yourself once you realized he had fallen asleep, turning further into his chest, and allowing yourself to get more comfortable.

Somewhere between 4 and 5 am, you found your eyes finally closing of their own accord, unconsciousness washing over you.

Day 17

Since starting your marvel movie binges with Colson, you’d found yourself getting more sleep. You couldn’t tell if it was from the movies or from Colson, but either way something seemed to be working.

Tonight, however, even your new routine wouldn’t lull you to sleep. You tried every breathing exercise in the book, but nothing seemed to work. Colson had fallen asleep a while ago, his arm wrapped around you as per usual, so you couldn’t talk yourself to sleep.

So, you decided to take a stroll around the house, hoping the small form of physical activity would help. But in order to get out of bed, you would have to find a way out of Colson’s embrace without waking him up.

You slowly and gently grabbed his hand and removed it from your side, laying it on the bed next to you. Then, you sat up slowly, only to be pulled back into his chest, “where’re you going?”

His voice was deep and gravelly, sleepiness very evident. You responded with a whispered, “I can’t sleep, was gonna go walk around.”

He pulled you in closer to him, nuzzling his face into the crown of your head, “but you’re so warm.”

You chuckled, cuddling into the man, “fine, I’ll stay.” You tried to close your eyes and find sleep, but again, none came. Sighing, you accepted that you would be stuck in your current position, realizing there were worse things than being wrapped up in a beautiful boy’s arms.

Day 25

“I know aliens probably exist, but do you think they’d ever take one of us to study?”

Colson chuckled at your question, “like a human in general or, like, you and me?”

“Like you or me. Do you think we’re important enough to be studied?”

He squeezed your waist, “I think you are in desperate need of sleep.”

Laughing, you responded, “I’m serious! And I have been sleeping, thank you very much.”

“Okay, fine. I think if aliens ever came to Earth, they’d probably be more interested in, like, genius billionaires or really dumb people, like people from Florida.”

You slapped his arm, “don’t be mean to Florida.”

You could feel the vibrations from his laughter, making you giggle. “Fine, but my point is they wouldn’t be interested in us unless they’re really into music.”

“Darn,” you huffed.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “you want aliens to take you and study you?”

Balancing yourself on his chest, you lifted yourself up to look down at him, “yes! That would be so fucking cool.”

He shook his head with a laugh, “you’re crazy.”

“Think about it, who else would be able to say they got studied by aliens. And then you’d know that you were important to someone, even if it is just alien scientists.”

Rolling his eyes, Colson pulled you back down into him, your hands still resting on his chest, “I don’t need aliens to know I’m important.”

“Well not all of us can be ubertalented rock stars with millions of fans,” you joked, a teasing smile on your face.

You glanced up to find his eyes trained on you, holding a softer look in them than you had expected, “I didn’t mean that.”

It took a few moments for his words to get processed by your brain, but you immediately dismissed the thought that he could be talking about you specifically. More than likely he was referencing his family in general, which you could be included in.

Day 31

To celebrate a full month in quarantine, the guys had decided to throw an in-house only party, which just meant that everyone had an excuse to drink together more than normal. You were staying mostly sober, knowing that otherwise the boys would most likely break something, most likely themselves.

You watched from your place on the kitchen counter as Rook, Baze, Slim, Dre, Irv, Dub, and Colson played a round of King’s cup.

“Y/N, you have to drink,” Rook called from across the room, “it’s a six.”

“If there’s no women playing then you just skip that card, Rookie.” You called but took a sip from your cup anyways.

Colson whined, “this is boring.” You chuckled as he moved away from the table to come stand by you, the rest of the guys continuing without him. He leaned against the counter next to your dangling leg, letting you run your fingers through his blond hair, “parties are boring now, Y/N.”

You could tell that he was gone, the alcohol having almost full control of him. “When we get out of quarantine, we’ll throw the biggest party ever, Kells,” you said, letting your hand fall to rest on his shoulder. The man grasped your hand in his and moved it back up to the top of his head, silently begging for you to continue. He turned into a cat, practically purring as he leaned into you, “hey, Kells, you tired?”

He shook his head, “no, ‘m gonna stay up with you, remember?”

You laughed softly, “it’s okay, Kells. You should get some sleep; I’ll be okay for a night.”

His arms wrapped around your middle, head burying into your stomach, “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

“You gotta let me off this counter for that.” This was a side of Colson you rarely saw; the drunk, very cuddly version of Colson. Occasionally he’d cling on to you when he got really tired, but that was in the privacy of his room. Here he was hanging onto you in front of all his friends, though granted they were too drunk to notice anything unusual.

You hopped off the counter, taking on some of Colson’s body weight in order to get him up the stairs and to his room. Truthfully, you planned to leave him in his bed once you got him there, but he had other plans. As soon as you moved to walk away from the bed, he grabbed your arm sleepily, “why are you leaving?”

Running a hand along his jaw softly, you softly said, “I’m gonna go to my room.”

He whined, “you never sleep in your room, stay.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond to that, “Kells, you’re drunk, you need some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep without you.” His eyes were glazed over, making his pleading look even more appealing than normal.

Sighing, you muttered, “yes, you can. I’ll be right down the hall,” but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, hand still firmly around your wrist.

“No.”

You rolled your eyes, climbing into the bed next to him, “I’m only doing this because you need to go to sleep.” He hummed in response to that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into him, leaving no room for you to escape even if you tried.

Day 37

Nights with Colson had slowly turned into every moment with Colson. You woke up together, ate breakfast together, spent time together. You were rarely separated for long, not that either of you minded.

At some point, the line between friends and whatever lied next had gotten blurred, but not fully crossed. You and Colson were touchy and cuddly during the day as well as at night, and everyone in the house was starting to notice it.

Part of you just wanted to kiss him and see what happened, but you knew messing with a situation like this could go very wrong very fast. So, you just left it up to him to figure out where this thing would go, knowing he probably wouldn’t make the first move either.

But as you laid in his arms, listening to his midnight ramblings, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you took matters into your own hands. You watched his lips move as he spoke, wanting nothing more than to lean up and press your own against them. Of course, you would never actually do it, but it was nice to dream.

There was a lull in the conversation which was spent with your eyes dancing across each other’s face, trying to figure out what to say next. Suddenly, he blurted out, “can I get your advice on something?”

You nodded in response, a soft smile on your face. He continued, “this sounds so stupid, but there’s this girl I’ve been talking to recently and I can’t figure out if she ‘s into me or we’re just really good friends.”

You sat up slightly, perking an eyebrow up, “well what signs has she given you that she’s into you?” Your heart burned, hoping he was talking about you. It was a feeling that had been happening a lot recently whenever you were around him, which was almost all the time.

He sighed, “I mean, we talk like, all the time about everything. And I think she flirts with me, but I’m not completely sure if she’s flirting or she’s just being friendly.”

“Well, what signs say that she’s not into you?” You ask, biting your lip to hide the grin forming on your face.

Colson hesitated, “I mean, none, really. I’m just scared of messing up our friendship, you know?”

You nodded, “well, you’ll never know if you never ask her. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

He was quiet for a long time, clearly turning the advice over in his head, “I would but, with quarantine and everything, I just don’t think it’s the right time. We wouldn’t be able to actually, you know.”

Your heart fell, realizing that there was no possible way he was talking about you. It felt like every bone in your body turned to Jell-o at the realization, a lump forming in your throat. “Right, well, maybe you could invite her over to the house. Or do a cute facetime date or something.”

He nodded but stayed quiet. You fully sat up, swinging your legs off the bed. “Where are you going?” he asked softly.

Something inside of you was slowly crumbling, and you needed to get yourself out of his presence as soon as possible, “I just need to take a walk, I don’t think I’m tired enough to get any form of sleep.”

Colson let out a small “oh,” as you stood up and swiftly left the room, tears forming in your eyes.

You felt silly for letting yourself fall so easily and for thinking that he might have felt the same way. But you could’ve sworn there was something forming between you two.

And how had you never heard of this new girl? How long had that been going on?

So many thoughts swirled around in your head as you made your way downstairs and out to the empty pool deck, pacing the familiar space. You tried to convince yourself that your feelings weren’t as strong as they actually were so that this could somehow be easier, but you knew it wouldn’t work.

The sound of the door sliding open caught your attention, your eyes meeting those all too familiar blue ones. “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the wall of the house. You flashed him a fake smile with a nod. “This doesn’t have anything to do with what I just-”

“No, no,” you cut him off, “I’m just restless right now, needed to get some energy out.”

He nodded, watching you cautiously, “I’m actually super tired, so I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you in a few?”

You nodded, knowing full well you had no intention of getting back into his bed, “yeah, goodnight.” You turned your head to the ground, studying the cement below your feet.

The door opened and shut, but when you looked back up, Colson was still standing outside, watching you. “I don’t know why I said that. There isn’t a girl in quarantine. Well, I mean, there is, but we wouldn’t not be able to see each other.”

Your head was spinning, trying to make sense of whatever he was saying. He kept talking, “I got nervous and chickened out and then you left and I felt like an idiot.” You looked up to him, confusion evident on your face as he continued on the borderline of rambling, “so I’m just gonna throw this out there and whatever happens, happens.”

You stared at him blankly, not fully processing his words or what was happening.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me? Or, like, whatever kind of date we can pull off here?”

Your eyes went wide in shock, the rollercoaster you had just been on emotionally twisting your mind. You didn’t speak for a few moments, making Colson nervous, but you finally got out a stuttered, “yes.”

He sighed in relief, “god I feel like such a teenager right now.”

You came back to your senses, narrowing your eyes at him, “do you realize the emotional turmoil you just put me through? I feel like I’m crazy!”

He chuckled, moving towards you, and wrapping his arms around your waist, “I know, I’m an asshole. But it was worth it, right?”

“I was literally rethinking my entire life out here,” you pouted, leaning into his touch.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You rolled your eyes, “look who’s all Mr. confident now.”

The vibrations of his laugh shook your own body, “well, you said yes. This would be a completely different story if you had said no. Then I would be the one rethinking my entire life.”

You smirked teasingly, “I could always change my mind.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, “shut up.” His lips met yours, one hand reaching up to softly hold your jaw. You melted into the kiss, your arms moving to wrap around his neck loosely.

You pulled away slowly, a smile spread on your face, “this almost makes not being able to sleep worth it.”

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#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #colson baker imagine #colson imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker fluff

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skinnyducky · 3 years

Text

lullaby (pt. 2 to cherry) // v.h.

This part went through so many changes. Originally, they weren't getting back together but I ultimately decided for Y/n to take Vinnie back because I'm a sucker for happy endings and second chances. Kinda came out longer than I wanted it too, but meh. This part is heavily inspired by the song "Lullaby" by Mariah Carey. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

link to part 1

Word Count: 2219, unedited

WARNING: language, mentions of partying, alcohol, drugs, and a very fluffy yet cheesy ending.

---------

It had been a few months since you and Vinnie had bid your goodbyes. Within those months, you were doing great. You had aced your first semester classes, you just moved into your apartment, and you were at the highlight of your life. The only thing you lacked was someone to bask in the happiness with. To say you missed Vinnie was an understatement, but you were too prideful to actually tell yourself that.

You tried dating again, but no one could hold a candle to your Vinnie. Plus, you hadn’t been keeping up with him on social media or anything, so you didn’t know if he had moved on and forgotten you. You didn’t want to reopen old wounds, so you refrained from contacting him.

But little did you know, not a day went by that Vinnie didn’t think about you. He constantly thought about what he did, beating himself up for even having the thought of another girl while he was with you. But he didn’t know what to do. Your relationship was dying, and none of you bothered to even talk about it. So, to him, he thought there was nothing that he could do…thus causing him to do what he did. Thankfully, he didn’t go too far with the girl, but still…he knew what he did was terrible.

Dating for him was pretty much impossible. Much similar to your situation, there was no one who could fill your shoes. The way you danced around in his head during the day and ruled his dreams at night…no one could do that for him. You were one of a kind, and with as many offers he got, he was torn that none of them were from you. He was a funk…a really bad one.

His friends and housemates took notice of this and being the best friends they were, they decided to drag him out of the house and to a party at Triller Compound because that’s what every heartbroken friend needed when they’re down. To be surrounded by booze, loud music, and sweaty people…oh yeah, that’s what he definitely needed right at this moment.

“C’mon, at least smile a little bit.” Alex said, looking back the upset boy through the rearview mirror.

“Smile about what? Going to some party that I didn’t even want to go to.”

“You seriously need to get over, Y/n.” Thomas sighed, turning to Vinnie from the passenger seat. “What happened between to you two happened for a reason. You just gotta let it go.”

Mia scoffed from beside Vinnie and slapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Thomas, it’s not that easy!”

“I’m just saying, if it were me, I wouldn’t be all upset and everything.”

“So, you’re saying if we broke up…you wouldn’t be sad?” Mia responded sharply, obviously joking.

Thomas nearly choked, looking back at his girlfriend. “I-I’m not saying that. I mean, if…it’s just that…it’s different, okay. He cheated.”

“Did you have to bring that up?” Mia rolled her eyes and turned to Vinnie. “Don’t listen to him, okay. It was your relationship, and sure you messed it up, but…you still can be sad about it. I think.”

Vinnie huffed and stayed silent, no bothering to listen to anyone. He didn’t need people reminding him of his mistakes, that was the whole reason why he was being a downer. He just couldn’t forgive himself. There were no ounce of words or speeches that anyone could give him that would make him feel better. This was just something that he’d have to get over with time.

It was only minutes before they pulled up to the packed mansion and stumbled out of Alex’s car, Vinnie being the last out. He watched as his friends rushed to the house before heading inside. Upon entering the house, scenes of people grinding and drinking came into his sights. The sound of trap music filled his ears as the strong stench of weed brushed across his nose. He sneered before walking to the backyard. He scanned the area for any sober person he knew, hoping to find someone to complain about his situation to.

As he searched, his eyes landed on a familiar head of y/h/c hair. He furrowed his brows, trying to get a better view of the person. “That can’t be who I think it is,” he thought to himself as he moved in closer.

That was when you looked to side, and he caught a glimpse of your profile. His heart nearly stopped beating the minute he saw your face. He breathed hitched in his threat as he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating. He never thought he’d see you again, yet here you were…just a few feet away from him. He had forgotten the fact that you two had mutual acquaintances, so it came to no surprise that you’d come to this party.

Vinnie watched as you threw you head back in laughter at something one of your friend’s said. There wasn’t much he could do but stare at you. He didn’t know what to do. It’d be risky to even think you’d want to talk to him, so he refrained from walking up to you. He didn’t want to bring up painful memories. It was a good thing you hadn’t seen him yet.

---------

“You’re joking!” You smiled. “Come to think of it though, Bryce would be the one to try and drink tequila off your tits.”

Your friend, Y/bff/n snorted, “I know right!? I was like…sir, I am not that kind of a girl. Please have a good night.”

The two of you continued to laugh at her situation before you heard her go silent. You calmed yourself down, looking at her shocked face. Confused, you followed her eyes and turned around to see what had her so shook up. At that moment, your eyes met the very person you had least expected to see tonight…

Vinnie.

He was staring right back at you. The minute he realized you were looking back at him, he nearly freaked out. He attempted to look around, playing as if he hadn’t been eyeing you, but you had already caught him in the act.

“Is that…?”

“Vinnie, yep. That’s him.” You said, placing a hand on your hip. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

Y/bff/n snickered. “It’s a party, Y/n.”

“I know that, but I honestly didn’t expect him to be here tonight.”

You two watched the boy look around frantically and you couldn’t help but smile a bit. You missed him and judging from the sight in front of you…it seemed as if he did too. But still, you were a bit out of the loop. Who’s to say he hasn’t already moved on. You couldn’t intrude on his happiness, that wouldn’t be fair.

“You should go talk to him.” Y/bff/n said.

You looked at her with your eyebrows raised. “You really think so?”

“It’s obvious he’s still into you, babes. And considering the fact you’ve been looking at him with those goo-goo eyes, I think you’re still into him too.”

“I don’t know, Y/bff/n. I mean…what if he’s seeing someone else.”

“There’s no way. If he’s trying that hard to pretend that he wasn’t just staring at you, he’s still hung up on you. And, even if he is seeing someone, that doesn’t mean you can’t just go and talk to him.”

You shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

“Atta girl. Oh, and on your way back, make sure you grab me one of those little mini cakes. I’ve been craving one since we got here.”

Rolling your eyes at the foolish girl, you proceeded to leave her side and head over to Vinnie. The moment he saw you, he practically froze. You could tell he was nervous; his awkward stance and wide eyes told it all.

Within seconds, you stood before the boy, a slight grin on your face.

“Hey, Vinnie.” You greeted, placing your arms behind your back.

“Y/n, didn’t see you there!” He laughed. “Well, I did see you there but like, I wasn’t watching you or anything…yeah, totally wasn’t watching you.”

Your smile grew wider. “Yeah, sure. So, how’ve you been?”

“Good, uh…definitely good. You?”

“Um, my classes are going well, and I just got a new place…so, can’t complain.”

“That’s dope, Y/n. Glad to hear you’re doing good.”

You nodded, looking down at your feet. “Same to you. I’m sure you’re, y’know…enjoying everything with your girlfriend.”

Vinnie looked at you with a puzzled expression, your statement taking him back a bit. To be honest, he couldn’t be surprised that you thought he’d be taken by now because he thought the same about you. However, at the same time, with the way he was acting right now, he was shocked you didn’t realize he was still head-over-heels for you.

“I don’t, um…I’m not seeing anyone.”

You grinned to yourself, trying to keep your cool as you tilted your head at him. “I’m sorry, I just thought you’d be with someone.”

“It’s fine. I definitely get it. To be honest, I thought you’d be here with someone.”

“Technically, I am.” You replied.

It was at that moment Vinnie felt his heart explode and despair run through his system. He weakly put on a happy face, shooting you a thumbs up.

“That’s g-great.”

“Yeah, Y/bff/n just was dying to come with me. She’s been begging to go to one of these parties, so I thought why not?”

“Oh,” Vinnie breathed, feeling his heart piece itself back together. “So, you’re not seeing anyone?”

You shook your head. “Not right now. I’ve been on a few dates and stuff, but no one has ever made me feel like y-”

You stopped yourself, locking your lips together to keep that last word from leaving your mouth. You didn’t know why, but something in you didn’t want you sharing your feelings with Vinnie. Maybe it was the small ounce of hurt that clung to your heart like a child from Vinnie’s infidelity. Or maybe it was the slight fear that he may not want to get back together. There were so many thoughts in your head, all speaking at once. It was so loud, that you didn’t even catch what Vinnie had said to you.

“…and-…Y/n? You listening?” He tapped you gently, bringing you out of your head.

“Sorry about that. I was in my head for a moment. What were you saying?”

“I was just saying that I’m sorry for what I did. I was just so confused on where we stood in our relationship, not saying that it justifies my actions, but instead of coming to talk to you, I went and…well, did what I did. Believe me, I never meant to hurt you, and I totally understand if you don’t forgive me.”

You sighed, “I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t know where our relationship was headed either. Honestly, I was planning to break up with you that night.”

“And I ended up giving you even more of a reason to do so.”

You both laughed before meeting each other’s eyes.

“I wish we had talked about it, y’know? Communicated and all of that suff. It would’ve saved us both a heap of heartache.” You continued. “I can’t lie, even though life has been good, it sucks not being able to share it with you.”

Vinnie smirked, taking your hands in his. “Y/n, ever since we broke up…I haven’t been able to think about anything but you. I hadn’t streamed, I barely left the house…I couldn’t do anything. I just didn’t know how to function without you. You have such a hold over me…I didn’t know how to get over you.”

“I guess this whole goodbye thing really wasn’t a good idea after all.”

“No, I think it was. I think it happened for a reason. That reason being, so we can fall in love all over again.”

At this point, you were a smiling mess and there was nothing you could do to hide it. Vinnie wasn’t any better, you could tell he was in pain by the way he hadn’t stopped showing his pearly whites. It clear to both of you now that you two were still in love, if not more than before.

“That’s so sweet, Vin.” You said. “But also, cheesy. You were always the sappy one in the relationship.”

“As if, Miss Hopeless Romantic. I’m not the one who freaks out over Valentine’s Day.”

“Mmhm, sure you don’t.”

The two of you stood there for minute in silence, your hands entangled, and your gazes planted on each other. It felt good, and it was almost as if all that hurt…that fear…it was completely gone and now replaced with passion and security.

“Y/n, I know you probably have some resentment towards me, but I love you too much to care. So, if you’re willing and there’s enough forgiveness in your heart…I wanna restart, right from the beginning.”

Without much thought or hesitation, you said, “We can restart. For sure.”

“Well, in that case…Hi, I’m Vinnie.”

You smiled as the feeling of love washed over you. To say you were happy was an understatement, you were in paradise. Life was great, and now you had your boy back to share it with.

“Nice to meet you, Vinnie. I’m Y/n.”

#vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x reader

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liitlesunshiine · 3 years

Text

High on the clock

Quirkless AU - Toya Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, drug use, anxiety, panic attack mention, suggestive themes, slight sexual themes

A fun light hearted fic. Definitely enjoyed writing this piece so I hope you guys enjoy reading it. ^.^ It’s flirty n cute n Toya is a total bae. <3

You and Toya are coworkers who try making the most out of your shitty job.

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

“Goddd this place fuckin blows.” You groaned in frustration sitting across Toya.

“As if I didn’t know that already,” he sleeplishly replied.

You never intended on working in this shit show of a store for as long as you have but yet, here you were two wasted years later. You had high hopes after graduation but it seems no job wants to hire someone with no experience and you can’t get any experience since you can’t get an actual job that’ll provide it. So it’s forced you in this sort of awkward limbo and vicious cycle of going back and forth. You’ve been stuck wearing this shitty bright uniform with a barely livable wage and terrible hours. Miserable every second of the day, with the constant guilt eating at you for being so complacent.

Of course there were a few exceptions.

Of course… Like the highly attractive coworker you spent most of your time here with. Days spent with Toya were significantly better than the days spent without Toya. In fact, if it weren’t for him, you’d probably wouldn’t have lasted as long as you had here. Because man, when days were good they were ok, but when the days were bad, they were really fucking bad. Some in which you were ready to burn down everyone and everything yet the sweet, hot, god-like Toya would make you melt with his cute quirky smile and meet your eyes with his own that you would absolutely drown in and next thing you know, you had completely forgotten about what you were upset over. Now, it’s just a bonus that he meets your sarcasm with his own, the both of you have always had this flirty like atmosphere that neither of you are willing to acknowledge but low key kinda know there’s an underlying sexual tension there. It was strange how well you both got along, the average onlooker would assume nothing more than a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship but it was really just mutual likability and connection between the two of you. Days with Toya were simply good days. And you were absolutely grateful for someone like him because god knows how terrible it’d really be here without him.

“Why don’t we make this night a bit memorable,” Toya who was right next to you behind the counter, gives you a side wink and unzips the company jacket to reveal a small ziplock within the pocket. Andddddd long behold it’s weed! You chuckle to yourself, never getting tired of Toya’s shenanigans. Very much appreciated as he’s best form of entertainment here.

“Toya we almost got caught last time, you really wanna risk it again?” Your words ran on deaf ears as he was already rolling up the blunt underneath the counter, “what’s the worst they can do? Fire us?” You stopped for a second and nodded, well he wasn’t wrong. Maybe this was the push you needed to finally leave this shit hole. “You got a point, let’s do it quick before someone comes in.”

While this is a 24 hour convenience store, usually pass 1am, rarely anyone is inside. So you suppose it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea. Plus with Toya your bound to have a good time, who are you to deny him. You trusted in him enough to get away with his bs.

“Pass the lighter doll,” you fished for the lighter that was nicely decorated with little blue flames over in your small book bag and passed it to him. He holds the blunt between his two hands and you duck underneath the counter with him. “Ladies first,” he cockily said, you lean forward and placed your mouth on the blunt while he held it for you. He always did this and it always felt oddly intimate to you. Couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest taking over when his glass like eyes gazed over you. They always made you curious and somehow hungry for knowledge of his life. You’ve never knew someone so well yet know nothing of them, but that’s always been enigma of Touya. You exhaled closing your eyes, attempting to calm your nerves. “You know the only time I ever smoke is on the job with you.” He smirked bringing the blunt to his own lips, “guess I’m a bad influence then.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Everyone needs a lil spice in their life, no?” It was his turn to roll his eyes. You gently grabbed his wrist and led the blunt back to your lips again, he stared quietly at you. Which oddly made you tense up. “Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled.

“Like what?” He smiled.

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world that you can’t live without.” Now you both laughed. This was the usual routine with Toya; cracking jokes and talking shit for a bit and simply enjoying each other’s company while the store was empty. He finally broke the trance you were in when he spoke up.

“You know, having my father kick me out of the house wasn’t so bad after all,” Toya leaned in.

You looked at him with a puzzled look, he never brings up his father. Whenever the conversation appeared it was quickly diverted elsewhere. You didn’t want to poke or intrude but curiosity got the best of you and you couldn’t help but want to continue the conversation. “Yea? Why is that?” You wondered. His father, from what you’ve been able to gather with the little bits Toya has mentioned here and there, was that supposedly his father is some CEO to a multi million dollar company. Odd considering the likes to where Toya ended up but you concluded that they must’ve ended in bad terms. You understood how cruel and selfish parents can be and didn’t need further explanation on that part. Easy to assume considering how poorly and little he speaks of him. He shut your ideas off with his simple response.

“I wouldn’t be smoking a blunt with the world’s most beautiful girl under this shitty counter, if it weren’t for it.” Ha, that definitely caught you off guard, causing a light blush to form across your face. Even with a seeming sensitive topic he still manages to tease you. He’s got that cheeky smile plastered all over, “Got you choked up doll?” You rolled your eyes. You were about to tell him off before the door rang indicating that someone has entered the store. You snapped out of the haze and immediately got up to quickly realize that the person who entered was one of the regional managers, oh fuck. You nearly froze in fear and kicked Toya under the counter. “Ow the fuck was that for?” He looked at you while soothing the kick you just gave him but upon looking at your panicked expression and frenzied body, he quickly crushed the blunt and shoved it back inside the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t need to be told or explained which you greatly appreciated at the moment. Toya was always able to read the room, bless his soul. He clumsily got back up to which you had fixed his crooked hat and whispered into his ear to tuck his shirt in while covering him slightly to do so.

“Hi-ya hello, good afternoon, I mean good evening sir.” You embarrassedly stumbled over your words to which Toya snickered at. You kicked him again harder this time as discreetly as you could. On the verge of a panic attack. He gripped tightly at the counter, smiling at the man in front of you both. Hissing silently at the pain your kick caused him. He gave you a quick side eye nodding his head in disapproval. Which somehow made you feel drastically worse.

“Good evening to you both, I’m sure you know who I am.”

You responded a bit too hastily looking like a rabid chihuahua. “Yes! Yea. Of course we do, how are you? What brings you in at this time? It’s so late.” You manage to say within 2.0 seconds, the automatic robotic customer service attitude overtaking your body. Well- at least trying to considering you just had a 30-minute smoke sesh under the counter and your mind is desperately trying to sober up. Honestly, what the fuck was he doing here at this time? This has never happened and I mean out of all the hours of the day. Oh yea, you’re definitely getting fucked, the smell of weed was so pungent, it was literally embarrassing how bad the situation looks. You wanted to cry. Toya’s eyes were stained red and you only assumed yours look worse.

“Gotten a few complaints about this store recently. Wanted to come in and take a look.” You began to get a cold sweat, oh shit he knows, he definitely knows. You had words lodged in your throat that couldn’t come out. What could you say? What can you say? You’re in the wrong here. Everyone knows that smoking weed with your cool and kinda hot coworker under the counter is definitely not ok. Maybe even illegal, oh god what if this gets on your record. You’ll definitely not be able to get a professional job, then you’ll really get stuck working a even shitter job than this. Oh good oh god oh my god.

As if sensing the absolute panic and anxiety off of you, Toya gently caressed your arm motioning you to relax and to stay silent. You recognized the wave that washed over him and instantly knew he’d handle the situation, he always does. And if you could die in his arms right now, you’d accept your fate happily. Toya was an interesting man oh right, you always believed he held such potential to do great things and even change the world. It doesn’t make sense really considering you both work at a basic job but you had come to secretly admire the guy. You’d would tell him too, how you believed in him, how you had so much confidence for him to become something great but he would always shut it down and brush it off like it was nothing. It was as if he didn’t think he was good enough. It always bugged you that he thought so little of himself, but seeing him now causally and confidently bullshit the regional manager out of your current situation just simply reminded you of how special he was to you. Definitely got your pussy wet and made you eternally grateful too.

Toya was standing in front of the counter, making hand gestures while the manager just stared analyzing his words. You were completely z0ned out, only able to get parts of the conversation.

“We’ve been having this customer appear at the store over and over again around this time of night harassing me and Y/N. We’ve considered calling the cops since he’s always high off his mind, we’ve caught him smoking in the bathroom on multiple occasions too. He was in here about 15 minutes ago and we haven’t been able to get rid of the smell.”

Ah the beautiful lies that slipped through Toya’s lips sounded like a symphony. It was nothing short of comedic and yet so fucking Oscar-worthy. You could definitely pay this man to tell you lies he with how effortlessly convincing he was. You couldn’t even care to listen to what the manager was responding with, but on his way out he waved at you wishing you a goodnight and you sighed out with relief.

Toya turns to you clasping his hands together “well there’s gonna be a security guard here for the next two weeks.” You laughed “I guess that’s better than getting fired huh.”

“I’m not sure about that,” he chuckled. “I texted Shigs to come and take over the rest of our shift.”

You looked at him confused, “how come? Either way, do you think he’ll be ok alone here?”

Toya slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back to you “yea he doesn’t give a fuck. Besides you look pale fucking white, guess this guy sobered your ass up real quick.”

You attempted to glare angrily at him but it came off as a soft puppy look. You had no energy nor the strength to pretend. It feels like you just got whiplash from the rollercoaster you were on. Figured it was no use in lying considering you looked like you just went through it. “Yea, I still feel high as shit, I just wanna go home already, only thing this guy gave me was a fat fucking headache.”

He ruffled the top of your head, “awe poor baby,” he said in a teasing tone, he inched up right beside you, “I got something that can help with that.” You jokingly pushed him off you, tying to ignore the warm feeling pooling under your stomach. Your mind was definitely thinking something dirty with a million miles per second and with how he handled today’s situation you’d be more than willing to give him whatever he pleased, but you pretended to cast aside those intrusive thoughts and act unfazed. “Shit don’t tell me you got Advil on you too?”

He chuckled lightly nodding is head down, “got something even better doll.” He scoots up next to you and grabs a bottle of excedrin underneath the counter, passing it to you. You excitedly open it taking two pills out “oh my god I didn’t know we had some underneath here, yes thank you. You're definitely my hero today Toya.” As if y’all didn’t work in a convenience store that had if not all types of medicines. It was the effort that made it special though, it’s what brought that bright goofy smile of yours to light.

You weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks while you swallowed the two pills. “Yea I remember you telling me you get headaches n shit and I know this medicine helps with it.” He was scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He never really handles compliments well but you tippy toed over to him and wrapped your arms softly around his neck. “I appreciate it Toya, that was really thoughtful. Thank you.”

If you didn’t see his previous blush you definitely noticed this one, which in turn lead you to blush. But you couldn’t miss this opportunity- “AWE is lil Toya blushing. So cute brings me back to my middle school days.” That caused a loud laugh to come out of you both. “Shut it.” he quickly and quietly said.

“Am I interrupting something.” You and Toya quickly untangled from each other trying to play off the slight tension in the air.

“Errrr um.. Hey Shiggy, thanks for uh coming in.” You awkwardly stumbled, you never really got along with him so there was always this weird loud silence between the both of you. He already seemed to be annoyed, per usual. The sloppy blue hair all tangled looking greasy and his patchy skin looking irritated and flaky as usual. He definitely was not amused or happy to be here. Well when was her ever. You’ve yet to seen the man smile.

“Whatever.” He takes a sip from his metal bottle and walks over to the counter.

“Shiggy you the man, thanks for pulling up bud.” Toya pats him in the back and Shigaraki shuttered. “Don’t touch me,” he flatly said. He glared at you both.

“You guys can go leave and fuck now.” The words caught you instantly by surprise and you got completely red. “That’s not what were gonn- ugh whatever like it matters.” With that, you and Toya clock out and leave the store with Shigaraki sending daggers at your back.

“He’s always acting like such a bitch.” You annoyingly complained.

Toya puts his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him “he ain’t so bad when you get to know him.”

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes, you didn’t really care. You were more relieved to have finally left. He can rot in the store by himself for all you care. Not you or Toga would miss him.

“So,” Toya glided with his words, itching you closer to him. He was leading the way in this position with you happily following. Not knowing the destination but feeling completely at peace with his form completely snug at your side. You comfortably wrapped your arm around his waist and gently placed your head in the crook of his neck. This was nice you thought, you and Toya were always this intimate when alone. No hesitation or awkwardness, just simply holding hands and sharing body heat as friends with the underlying passion waiting to burst and to be acknowledged. But nothing ever felt rushed, not with Toya. You stared at him from this angle, taking in his beautiful effortless features. His lashes looked so long as you stared in slight jealousy, his hair a perfect black mess with hidden red roots if you stared long enough, and his eyes. Man, you could write poems and sing songs with how the eyes stirred up some emotion you can't quite pin down. Always causing an eruption of feelings you can barely control.

You felt the warmth from his breath when he spoke, “wanna go to back to my place and finish that blunt? Would love nothing more than to see the world’s most beautiful girl on my bed.”

You blushed and nodded looking at those piercing blue eyes once again “well, when you look at me like that I guess I can’t say no.”

Maybe this time you would finally show Toya just how special he really is to you.

#Touya x You #toya #toya todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi #dabi my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #dabi fluff #dabi fic #toya smut #kinktober #mha todoroki

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

ain't it fun? | part 4

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: chronic illness, hurt/comfort, drug use**! spencer and reader smoke weed together; talks of relapse and recovery. Also, a case involving child abductions, getting engaged, love confessions

word count: 2.4k

a/n: not sure how long this is going to keep getting but I am enjoying adding to it

P1 P2 P3

Days like today suck.

She can’t get out of bed, she’s so hungry her stomach is swirling and screaming and there’s a pain in her intestines that feels like someone is eating her from the inside out but she can’t move… and she has to pee but her legs hurt and her head is pounding from the light. It’s 6 am according to the alarm clock, Spencer hasn’t left for work yet and she’s already missing him.

She manages to make it to the bathroom, sitting there for too long after because she can’t find the courage to stand back up.

“Why?” She whispers to herself before the tears start.

Covering her face as she cries, she’s still sitting on the toilet with her underwear around her ankles, sobbing as Spencer walks in.

He helps her up without asking, he’s seen too many bad mornings now to ask if she needs help, he just knows she wants to go back to bed, so he fixes her underwear and picks her up.

When he finally lays her down with all her pillows, he lowers the temperature in the room to relax her bones and gets her a ginger ale to help with the nausea from the pain she’s in. It is a regular occurrence for her to wake up and feel like she’s dying, but Spencer was wonderful when dealing with it.

He’s in the kitchen for a while, she’s worried he’s making something for her to eat that she’ll have to lovingly turn away because she can’t do it right now. Her throat is too tight and it hurts to swallow or talk.

She can hear him talking… he’s on the phone with someone.

When he comes back in, he cuddles into her the way he knows she likes. Soothing his hands over her back in a way that helps the pain while also helping her feel like she’s not alone in all of this. He’ll never understand; but he loves her, so a part of him feels it too.

“You called out?” She whispers against his chest.

He nods, his cheek resting on the top of her head as she feels the friction. “I don’t feel good when you don’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry you had to help.”

He’s told her time and time again that he doesn’t mind.

He would kill for her, he’d clean up the mess if she killed someone. He’d even dig the fucking grave if she needed him too… he wasn’t opposed to being there for her no matter what that entailed.

She just hated the fact he had to, he knew her apology came from her hatred of herself and not the fact she felt sorry for him. She loved the help, it made her feel loved until she felt disappointed in herself for needing it.

“Do you want your medicine?”

She smiles finally, “if you mean my secret joint stash— yes, but if you can’t handle being around me like that, then I don’t need it today.”

“I think I’d like to try it,” Spencer whispers. “If you can smoke weed and not relapse then I think I can too?”

“Probably, but if you can’t, I’ll support you however you need me to?” She smiles up at him, he kisses the tip of her nose as she kisses his chin.

Getting high with Spencer is… interesting to say the least. He doesn’t want a full hit, he just wants a taste and so she takes a drag and blows the smoke from her lungs to his. Sharing a part of themselves in a way they never expected before, this is his most vulnerable moment and he was trusting her with it.

The sunshine hits his face in such a perfect way that as they lay side by side, she can watch his pupil devour his iris as he gets high. Their breathing is steady and their fingers are interlocked. They’re content just blinking together, in the sunshine, quiet. In love.

Her body is so calm, and her mind is slow as she takes it all in and he looks so relaxed. He’s not jittery or caffeine-deprived like most mornings; he’s not anxious or stressed or trying to find a way to pretend he’s fine before leaving for work again, only to come home sad.

He’s okay.

She’s okay.

“It's nice,” he whispers, “but it’s not as good as you.”

She smiles, trying not to laugh at how his thoughts are going to be all jumbled for the next few hours. He’s going to be smart yet stupid at the same time and she couldn’t fucking wait to hear all the things he thinks of.

“I know what you mean,” she agrees.

“This is like a tidal wave..." his ramble starts and she is so excited to see where it takes them. "A tsunami that rushes and relieves just as quickly." His eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy.

"You’re like a volcano; there are so many stages before mass destruction, and even then there’s still the ash cloud and the debris and the lava dries like rocks… the destruction is total and the cleanup will be brutal.”

“I’m addicted to you," his eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy. "Drugs are boring and you’re not,” Simplifying his meaning as his eyes open again.

“I love you,” he says with the same certainty as the first time.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she didn’t think they’d go down this path when she was blowing into his mouth, she expected him to panic or get horny.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really told you how much.”

He shakes his head lightly, “I wouldn’t be opposed to knowing.”

If she thinks it over, she’ll abandon ship before she can tell him, so she just jumps into it.

“I was a little scared to ask you to help me lock my door that first day because I thought you’d think I was just some junky who couldn’t get their shit together. But the second you asked if I had a local group and you helped me; that was the moment I knew I wanted you in my life for forever.”

He smiles, silent so she can keep going. He’ll take his turn when she’s really done.

“And then when we got to talking it was like I knew you already. Like I had your memories in my mind and as you told me things I was like well duh! Yeah, that’s my Spencer! I don’t know how it happened so fast. One minute you’re a stranger and the next you’re the only person I ever want to see for the rest of my entire fucking life,” it’s more passionate than she expected as she rambles on.

“I can’t get married on paper without losing my disability, but I don’t give a fuck about a piece of paper or someone officially giving us that title one day, I’m content just staying in this bed with you for the rest of time and never moving again.”

He looks like he’s about to explode with love as he presses his lips together in the softest smile. He can’t keep quiet any longer, “are you asking me to spend the rest of my life with you but not marry you?”

She laughs at the realization, “I think so?”

They’re trying to kiss but it ends up more like laughing with their mouths touching and teeth occasionally clashing. It’s hysterical because of the marijuana, sure, but they’re high on each other. It’s everything they’ve ever wanted.

To find something better than drugs; that little purpose in life comes back, that drive to see tomorrow because there are good memories to be made with their favourite person. She’s not afraid of the darkness or the unknowing anymore, Spencer’s her guiding light.

He's holding her close to his chest after a while, "are you feeling better?"

"Of course," she smiles, "I've got my weed and my reid."

His laugh is everything as it fills their space again. This was how the rest of her life was going to feel, and it made her excited for tomorrow.

—

She’s feeling a lot better later and they need Spencer to help Penelope back at work, but he doesn’t want to leave her. She’s in sweats with a blanket on her lap in the corner of Penelope’s office, a book in her hand and a coffee on the table beside her as she listens to them bicker back and forth.

“If you hack the NSA we can no longer use all this as evidence if he’s brought in alive, Penelope!” Spencer whisper shouts at her, afraid to raise his voice at her but wanting to get his point across.

“Hotch needs the aerial shots like yesterday, and the NSA won't get them to us in time for this kid!” She yells back.

“Call google…” Y/N suggests, flipping through her book.

“What?” Spencer looks at her like she just said the dumbest thing ever.

“They’re taking photos constantly for their maps program, my mom was saying our new roof is now on the updated map. They might have all the photos saved up, if the FBI asks nicely they might work with you…” she explains, pressing her lips together in a tight smile.

“You’re a genius!” Penelope shouts, dialling the phone and getting JJ to work his media magic for contact at google.

Spencer's smile is one she hasn’t seen before, he’s not only proud of her; he looks a little turned on. She just cracked the case by knowing all the little hacks about the internet as part of her day job. She lived online, and now she was saving lives because of it.

It was a good case to help on, she got to see 3 kids go home to their parents and know a terrible man was going to rot in prison for the rest of his sad and pathetic life. The hard part was seeing them go through months of footage of this guy's yard, seeing the child-sized holes he dug up. The disrupted earth and the knowledge of what happened when there wasn’t picture proof.

—

They go to a meeting after work.

They sit side by side, her leg is crossed and resting over his knee as their arms are linked and fingers interlocked. They really couldn’t be any closer if they tried. They just wanted to listen today, to know they were in a room of people who were trying, people who understood and battled every bad feeling they did.

“Y/N,” the group leader calls her out just before the end of the meeting, “it’s nice to see you back here with Spencer, we heard you found another group but it’s nice to see you here for the support.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but as you can see he is distracting.” She gestured to how they were sitting with a small giggle. “I like coming here if you guys don’t mind me occasionally dropping by?”

“By all means,” another member, carol, spoke up. “Spencer is a great sponsor, it’s nice to see him happy.”

She didn’t know he was a sponsor but he thanks her for the compliment, it turns out almost everyone in his group turned to Spencer for support. It was comforting to everyone there to know the real, chemical and biological reasoning behind their addictions. Spencer provided a sense of calm for all of them, like a younger brother; they all loved him dearly.

They’re still holding hands as they walk home, the sun is still setting and it's barely even 7 pm. All the lights on the street are on, shops are closing and the sidewalks are bare. One store is still open however, across the street, she can see the big storefront window, illuminated with the brightest lights to show off a new collection of rings.

“Do you want one?” He notices her eyes darting to the light like a moth to a flame.

“What?” She zones back in when he stops walking.

“A ring, do you want to get one?” He clarifies with the softest voice.

She nods softly, “you should get one too though, seeing as I asked you and everything.”

He grips her hand tighter and they dart across the street. Giggling like children running to the playground, they’re almost out of breath from laughing as they open the shop door with a ding. Smiles on their faces, joy in their hearts, it makes the shop owner swoon as she sees them.

“Did you just get engaged?” She pries with a knowing smile.

They nod, “we just need some rings,” Y/N adds.

She waves them over, “well I’m going to need our sizes first, here try these on.” She hands them what looks like a thin ruler with holes spaces out.

Y/N attempts to find the right one, fitting the best into the 9 and a half. Spencer fits into the 11 on the first try like he knew already and the woman just laughs at the way Y/N glares at him with love.

“What kind of rings are we thinking? Do you have a preferred cut, style, size, or colour?”

It’s a lot all at once and she’s never really thought about it, “I love my grandma's ring, do you have any vintage styles?”

“I have vintage-style rings as well as some restored rings from the '20s and '30s,” she brings out a jewellery box from under the counter. “These are all appraised and unique.”

When she takes the lid off, Y/N’s eyes widen at the view. There are at least 50 rings in their velvet beds as they wait patiently to be tried on; all different shapes sizes and colours like she said. It feels a little overwhelming at first but then her eyes land on a green one. She takes it out slowly and slides it over her ring finger.

It’s perfect.

Spencer picks out a nice gold band to match, he pays and the lady is so happy to watch them leave hand in hand with their new rings. Dedicated to each other forever and ever, he was her person for the rest of time because he said so and that’s as good as a piece of paper.

She’s a completely different person from who she was when she woke up; twirling down the street with the love of her life, high on loving him as he makes her laugh and holds her hand. He stops in the middle of the street and places his hands on her cheeks, drawing her in closer.

“Loving you is so much fun.”

“Ain’t it fun?” She agrees with a smile before pressing their lips together.

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aint it fun #drug tw

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

Text

🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

#Shigaraki #Shigaraki Tomura #Shimura Tenko #Shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x you #Shigaraki x y/n #gender neutral reader #shigaraki headcanons #mha #bnha #fred writes

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fairycosmos · 2 years

Note

I’m messaging you because my best friend is in a situation extremely similar to becca’s—after the death of her grandfather last week, she’s begun taking much harder drugs than she ever did before (used to be weed and shrooms, now she’s snorting a lot of coke and meth). this happened really rapidly and is urged on by her terrible boyfriend (she’s 17 he’s 21). I’m worried she’ll die, if not from an overdose, then because he’s driving her around when they’re both really high. truly sorry to put this on you but I have no idea who else to contact and figure you may have some idea

hey, im really sorry to hear this. it’s so fucking concerning and im worried that i don’t have a quick or simple solution to suggest. unfortunately watching the people we love go through this sort of thing almost always feels like talking to a brick wall. screaming at a brick wall even. for weeks and months on end. and that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to support her, it means she has to be ready to listen for you to get through to her. and that moment could come tomorrow or it could come five years from now, and either way it will never be your responsibility or your fault. also - where are her parents? is discussing your concerns about her with them an option? i understand that that’s very daunting and most likely not a choice, but if she has anyone else in her life who cares about her it may be a good idea to connect with them to see if you can collectively come up with a way to get through to her. if it’s grief that’s the main issue, her family may be able to help her with that as i am sure they’re all grieving too, or they may be able to put her in touch with a grief counsellor. they can at least attempt to stop her seeing that gross predator boyfriend, though im sure she won’t listen initially. is it even legal where you live? if not the authorities need to be contacted immediately. he’s supplying a minor with drugs either way, it’s sick and he’s an abuser. some adult in her life has to put their foot down and help her asap. and all you can do is try to encourage that.

another thing i recommend is trying to show the love and care you have for your friend to her, consistently. let her know you’re always here if she needs anything, and let her know often. let her know that she means so much to you and that she doesn’t have to engage in self destruction in order to come to terms with what’s happened. let go of the fear of sounding stupid or vulnerable or over dramatic, and just say how you feel. there’s a big difference between enabling her behaviour and being open and honest. be firm in your conviction that what she is doing isn’t healthy, but show her warmth too. she’s in an unfathomable amount of pain after all, and she’s so young. you both are. it’s a lot for everyone, and it’s ok to not know what to do. as long as you’re doing what you can to be there for her, emotionally, you’re doing all you can. it’s not going to feel like enough, it never does. i know the worry is so crippling, but you’re just one person. and we can’t save each other the way people always seem to in movies about this kinda issue. you just have to work with what’s in your control.

i’m assuming you’re both still in school or maybe college if you’re from the uk, and if that’s the case i would also really encourage you to talk to the school counsellor or a trusted adult about this if that’s an option, since it’s getting out of hand and this may be one of the only sources of support available to you both. i know it might feel sort of like snitching, but even if your friend sees it that way, you know it’s the right thing to do. they may be able to get her to open up in time and put her in touch with ppl who are trained to guide her through her addiction, her loss, her trauma etc. if that feels weird, im wondering if it’s possible for you to look into any and all resources for mental health, drug use, young people in crisis etc in your area - im talking support groups, hotlines, therapists offices absolutely anything. google it with ur location on. send her a few numbers and a few links. be prepared for her to shrug them off, but remind her every once in a while of them. they’re reminders that she has potential ways out of her situation and that she is absolutely not alone. honestly, i think you’re doing so much more than you realise just by being present in her life and looking out for her well-being. by caring in the first place. she’s lucky to have you and you’re a great friend. know that it’s ok to take a step back and prioritise your own mental health too if it ever feels like too much. i guess the short version of my answer is just to do what you can in supporting both her realisation that she has a problem and then supporting her in the steps she needs to take to confront the problem. like i said, there’s no set time scale for this and it’s probably not going to be a linear process for anyone involved. start with what you think you can do for her today - whether that’s sending her a message saying that you’re here if she needs to talk, or calling an addiction or crisis hotline for extra info (they’ll often talk to friends or family of an addict and help them figure out what the best next step is for their situation.) again, im really sorry you have to cope with all this. remember that it’s on her to reach out and be receptive to change. whatever happens isn’t on your shoulders. all you can do is encourage her.

*can i (gently and sincerely, im not upset at all bc ive never made this disclaimer before) ask that in the future, people don’t send me anons about hard addiction especially if it’s a similar situation to my sister. it sends me spiralling and i suppose it’s a trigger for me

#anon #tw drugs #tw addiction #long post

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johnseedfanclub · 3 years

Text

Wip Day

Startin this bad boy up (at least this is an attempt)

Chapter 6(?)

TW: Mentions of drugs, suicide, vulgar language, hallucinations, abuse, vomiting

Angel rose up out of bed with a groan followed by a stretch

“Good fucking LORD” Angel grinded out as he cracked his back “I feel worse than that one time I was injected with fucking ketamine...”

After contemplating his life choices, and considering putting a bullet to his head, Angel managed to drag himself towards the window of his room.

“Hmm. Still out here huh?” Angel grumbled discontentedly “I would’ve hope it was a dream” Angel looked up as if he were speaking to God himself

Angel made his way downstairs and looked around. House was still quiet. There’s no way that she was taken, right? Missy couldn’t be gone. Angel had his own “gifts” but Missy was a trained army soldier, maybe higher than just a soldier. All Angel knew was that she was trained in the army and probably had way more control over herself than he did over himself.

“..Missy..?...MISSY?!” Angel called, walking through the deathly silent home

No...no..this isn’t good...They couldn’t have possibly kidnapped her. She’s a trained professional. She would know what to do in these situations. Angel is more likely to get himself captured and probably nearly get himself, and others, killed in the process. And aside from that, if Missy is gone...what will be of Angel? He is nothing but a ticking time bomb waiting to lose control.

Suddenly the silence was broken as his radio cracked “Ayooooo Angel!!!”

Angel jolted nearly sending himself out of his skin “Who the fuck is that” Angel took out his radio “How did I not lose this shit...” he whispered to himself before clicking the radio “Hello..?” Angel answered back

A voice of happiness and relief was heard on the other side “Angellll! Great to hear you’re alive bud! Kinda heard a lot of ruckus going on back at the bunker since you were....ya know...spotted and all but this whole ordeal kinda died down a bit of course..for now that is”

Jesus Christ who is this guy and why is he rambling at a time like this...it’s too fucking hot and early to be talking a man’s ear off.

“Also uh..Sorry about the whole smoke sesh we had the other day I kinda got a bit too excited and gave you way more than a shoulda..You probably feel-“

For fucks sake.

“Jesus fuck you’re talking way too fucking much.” Angel clicked the radio and it went dead silent. Angel drew out a deep sigh and clicked the radio again “Sorry...Havin a bad mornin...what’s your name now?”

“Oh shit my bad- you’re probably feeling like a dog that got ran over!” Connor laughed on the other side “Probably can’t remember a damn thing either...I’m Connor! The guy you met in the bunker” Connor replied in benevolence

Angel paced in the living room “Connor.....guy I met in the bunker......smoking...” Angel froze in realization “This fucking dickwad-“ Angel clicked his radio “YOU’RE THE GUY THAT TRIED TO FUCK ME UP WITH THAT FUCKING BLISS- BULLSHIT.”

“Woah...hey now I said sorry for that already. I meant good intentions. I would never purposely fuck a gay man over unless he fucked me or my guys ov-“

“GOOD INTENTIONS? I HAD TO FIGHT THROUGH RUGGGED MEN WHILE NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE STRAIGHT” Angel blurted out

“HEY. I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE. TO BE FAIR I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD A RECORD” Connor yelled back drawling out the ‘record’

“WHATEVER. Say now....what did you give me. I nearly had night terrors because of that fucking plant. And there’s no fucking way that it’s just weed.” Angel sat himself down on the couch thinking about the nightmares he had last night

There was a silence after that question. Was it that it was a mistake? Should he not have asked? Or hesitation? Maybe there was something in that cigarette-joint whatever it was...he-...Connor had to have gotten it somewhere...this wasn’t no ordinary plant or mix of bad drugs in a plant. This was...different.

“Okay....look. I trust you. But you cannot say this to anybody.” Connor spoke carefully

Gullible for a man who works in a cult

“What I put in that joint was bliss oil and ground up Moonflower....l-look I’m sorry okay...the flower adds to the high and the oil makes it burn longer” Connor had a very regretful tone in his voice. But that didn’t explain what any of that substance was...

“What the fuck is bliss oil? And moonflower...sounds slightly familiar..” Angel said confused

“Don’t worry about it. Can you meet me near John’s ranch later?” Connor asked

“That asshole? Fat chance drug mule” Angel returned with a chuckle

“Ya know you should be nicer. And how do you remember him easily???” Connor huffed, malcontented

“This man has been harassing me the last four months ever since I moved here. I think at that point it’s safe to say he has a rememorable face....a punchable one too.” Angel sneered

“O-oh right....probably not a good place then huh...”

“Of c- didn’t you say that I had a record Connor?”

“Okay okay...I wasn’t thinking straight-“

“Obviously”

“Jesus Chr- DO YOU WANT TO MEET AT FALLS END THEN?!”

“That would be great love” Angel mocked

“Ain’t you a peach...you know...I’m starting to believe what John was saying about you.....hmm.” The radio clicked and went silent

“Oh I’m goin to nick his ears off...” Angel growled “Can finish a sentence but not a fight”

Angel got up after having a moment of planning to beat up Connor later and decided it might be better to head to Fall’s End...maybe after a nap of course.. he won’t have to worry about Connor till later.

Angel decided to head back into his room and throw himself on his bed “Oooh...” Angel breathed out “I have a feeling this is gonna be one fucking day.” Angel drawled out in exhaustion before closing his eyes shut.

"𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁..."

Angel had a horrible gut wrenching feeling...that voice...that terrible fucking voice...

"𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁...." the voice sang his name in a comforting tone...but that voice was never a comfort to him

He kept his eyes shut...but didn’t know how much longer he would have to for him to go away...it was impossible to ignore something that was so insisting and demanding...

"𝒲𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓅...𝑀𝓎 𝓈 𝑜 𝓃."

He opened his eyes and saw red. Only red. The walls of his room. Red. The ceiling. Red. Where he slept. Red. The sky. Red. Everything was Red. He immediately felt sick but he couldn’t escape there was no escape. He sat up.

There.

There he was in the doorway. Blocking his only way out. The tall figure that loomed over Angel’s doorway. A Man that Angel could never fight, The Man that Angel fears the most more than anything...anyone in the world

𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓸 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔃

Angel quickly looked around but realized he was stuck. He was backed into a wall. There was no way he would make it out alive.

"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈...𝑀𝓎 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓎." The voice said tenderly moving closer to him

“D-don’t call me that....” Angel moved back to try to move himself away from the Man but there was no use of it. He started breathing heavy. With every step the Man took the more weight he felt on his chest. He started to spiral, every fighting instinct left his body. He felt like a rabbit being hunted by a Lion.

“𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒹𝑜?"

“help...h e l p.” He tried to call out but struggled to get the words out between breaths “somebody help me. get me out of here.”

The Man grabbed Angel’s face and tightened his grip, enough to leave bruises on the skin. All the fight left his body...he froze in horror having to force himself to look in his eyes. Tears started to stream down his face and he whimpered and tried to scream.

"𝒮𝒽𝒽𝒽𝒽...𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌..𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒" the Man stroked Angel’s face gently while shushing him like a puppy

“I don’t feel safe around you...I will never be safe or free in your hands....” Angel rasped out, nearly overworking his lungs for air “I will never call myself your son.”

The Man’s eye twitched but he cracked a smile "𝒜𝒽..." the man clicked his tongue before breathing in "𝒩𝑜..𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇" he retreated slightly before taking both of his large hands and pressing them on Angel’s throat, tighting them and he watched Angel panick and try to push him away legging out a crooked laugh

Angel saw his vision fading and slowly going dark. He was trying to fight back but it was a losing battle to begin with. So, he gave up.

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑜𝓃"

Angel immediately woke up and started coughing and immediately felt something coming up his throat. He ran to the bathroom and flipped the toilet cover up and immediately started retching. Fluids poured out of his mouth that burned his nose and throat. And when he thought he was done more came back up. After finishing he was shaking and his head was pounding, tears were streaming down his cheeks and he still felt that weight in his chest. He looked into the toilet and...it was red. He flushed the toilet quickly as the color made him nauseous again not to mention he didn’t even have a chance to eat. It was nothing but bile. Angel sat back. He couldn’t even bring himself to try to speak to himself. So he sat on the floor, trembling....crying. The silence in the house was loud. He has to get out of here.

Angel quickly got up in a panic and washed his face and brushed his teeth, wanting to get that awful taste of bile off his tongue. After he packed his backpack with survival tools and some basic needs to help him out...there...I mean there was just more than one man chasing after him...

He wasted no time leaving after, wiping whatever tears were left on his face, God, he hated looking vulnerable I mean he was already enough..

“I’m never taking a fucking nap again...not until the exhaustion comes over me...”

Angel made the trek to Fall’s End. And though it wasn’t a long hike, it was quiet...almost too quiet.

“Hey-“

Angel reached for his hun and aimed at the sudden greeting

“Woah! Hey now! It’s just me Angel Mary May spoke softly

Angel lowered his weapon quickly in shock ‘I could’ve killed her for Christ sake’ he thought

“You okay love? You seem...different? On edge..?” she spoke with a tone that was almost a comforting as Missy, Bless her heart if she’s still out there

Angel tried to get the words out “....I......uhm...y-yea....kind of...just had a nightmare...no big deal...” he manage to put on a smile that could fool a careless man. But Mary saw right through it.

“Look I know you probably don’t wanna talk about whatever is going on with you bit don’t try to fool me with a smile m’kay” Mary scolded Angel a bit and started walking forward to Fall’s End

“Okay mom” Angel huffed out a laugh “Funny seeing you out here huh” Angel followed after her like a little duckling

“Funny seeing me out here? It’s noon Angel! Did you oversleep again?” Mary looked at Angel teasing him a bit

“Very funny. I was up earlier but was still tired from yesterday so I took a nap......unfortunately it didn’t work out in my...uhm....favor” Angel cleared his throat

“Well why don’t you tell me all about it?” Mary asked curiously

‘This is gonna be a common thing huh...’ Angel thought before breathing out “Where do I start?”

Tagging:

@mrspaigeomega @mrsladydiana @oorah22 @minilev @lilwritingraven @scungilliwoman

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years

Note

One quick question, why do you hate Before the Storm? I actually really liked it. It could be because I'm a hopeless romantic, but I just want to see your opinions on it

Oh boy, where to even begin...? I cannot stand bts... it actually hurts my insides to think about how much I hate this game haha.

[note: yeah hi uhhh... this is long because of course it is, it's coming from me but listen, my feelings for this game are not nice and I have a lot to say so.... my bad]

One of the bigger reasons, though not the biggest, is Chloe... I'm not exactly a big fan of Chloe. At all. Not in the first game, nope. I understand that so many people love her and they have their reasons for that, that's fine, she's just a character who doesn't appeal to me. If anything, she pisses me off because I can see the foundation for such a compelling character, but it all gets thrown away for the sake of bullshit.

So then they plop bts in front of us with Chloe as the playable protagonist in a prequel story about her and Rachel Amber. This is an opportunity to expand on her character, to tie into the first season and make me feel more positive feelings about her character, to do what the first game failed to do..... and to be fair, they DO have a few of them sprinkled in... but then they're overshadowed by the garbage.

It's just... the ideas are there, and they're ideas that I like but they're executed so poorly. I want to like Chloe Price, I can see that there's something good here.

Like okay.... lemme do a thing:

Chloe Price. She's going through some serious shit after her dad dies. He died unexpectedly in a car accident, something Chloe had zero control over, it's not fair, and even though it's not like the universe singled her out and said "fuck you," it feels that way to her.

On top of that, her best friend who she adores? She moves away. Not something that's in either of their control, they're kids at this point. However, Max stops contacting her and that hurts Chloe. Chloe tries to stay in contact, but eventually Max stops responding.

Then you have her mother, who's also grieving after losing her husband and dealing with her daughter pushing her away and on the wrong path. She meets a man and falls for him after realizing she still has a long life ahead of her and that's too long to be miserable over her husband's death, William wouldn't want that, and David is a source of comfort for her... something she's not getting from her daughter. The problem is that David and Chloe don't get along in the slightest... which leads to Chloe feeling like her mom is trying to replace her father by moving on, not understanding why Joyce's timeline of grief isn't the same as hers, y'know?

Oh, and can't forget that Chloe has fallen onto a not so great path of drugs, booze, bad grades, lying, staying out late without letting her mom know where she is, pickin' fights, making friends with drug dealers, stealing money and other items, all that. She's bitter, angry, unable to understand most of her own complex emotions and that only makes her even more upset. She's unable to express them in a healthy way, she doesn't ask for help, and denies it whenever offered.

So... Chloe's starts out as an extremely entitled, rude, obnoxious character. She insults the bouncer in the cringiest way possible because these adult men writing her don't know how teen girls talk, she steals money and a t-shirt from a dude who works for the band because $20? how dare? even though bands don't make a lot of money and a lot of profit comes from their merch but who cares about supporting artists you like, right? Chloe sure doesn't. She probably buys some weed from Frank because yeah, she's got a dependence on the stuff now. She gets into a fight with a couple of dudes after spilling beer on them.... but what's this?

Oh look, it's Rachel Amber. Y'know, the pretty, popular, talented, smart, perfect, charismatic girl from Chloe's school?? yeah, she's at the concert and saves Chloe from the dicks who attacked her, and the two girls spend the rest of the concert together.

Now, for some reason, Chloe isn't sure but Rachel has taken a special interest in her. Rachel is flirty, she wants to know who Chloe is, she asks her to skip school with her, and the two take a ride on a train to a park and... honestly? pretty romantic, and it plays into that escapism fantasy thing of having the pretty girl who everyone likes single you out, making you feel special.

Over time, the girls grow close. Rachel has some family problems and seeks comfort in Chloe. They spend nights walking together down empty streets at night, holding hands. They hang out and talk about the stars, they discuss Shakespeare and what it's like to actually be your true self, if there's actually such a thing. They get tattoos together, and Rachel helps Chloe color her hair. They have a special hideout they decorated together in the junkyard. Rachel spends the night at Chloe's enough that she ends up leaving a lot of clothes there. They daydream about running away together, long road trips and living big in LA.

Chloe starts to see Rachel as her angel because for the first time since Max, she feels like she has someone she can be open and honest with. Rachel almost seems too perfect to be true, y'know?

And hey, over time Chloe actually starts to kinda get her life on the right track, if not in an unconventional way. Sure, she's still dealing with losing her father. that's not something she'll just get over... but she does start making an effort with her mom, and yes, even David after he told her about his time in the army and gave her that photo. They both know they'll never be friends, and they'll still have arguments, but they'll at least keep the peace for Joyce's sake.

It's not all perfect, though. Chloe's still smoking and Rachel isn't always the best influence. They get into trouble here and there, but nothing super serious.

She dropped out of Blackwell so that her mom didn't have to keep paying her tuition and because she's fixated on this fantasy of running away with Rachel. Chloe's feeling good about herself, about her future, for the first time since her dad died.

Until Rachel disappears.

And everything goes to shit pretty quick after that. Rachel's gone, she's not answering calls or texts, and everyone keeps saying that she probably ran away, but Chloe knows better. She knows Rachel wouldn't leave without her, so something must've happened. She makes posters and puts them everywhere, but things only get worse.

Money is tight. Joyce isn't making as much as she needs at the diner, David isn't making enough as a security guard, and hey... they might lose the house... the house that was once Williams, that's a piece of him he left behind. Not only that, but where will they go?

Chloe doesn't want them to lose the house, or for her mom to be this stressed out over food and bills. Chloe borrowed money from Frank in hopes of using it to run away with Rachel, but with her missing... Chloe decides to give it to her mom in order to save the house. Joyce is alarmed that she has this much, but Chloe manages to lie her way out of it to give her mom some peace of mind.

Except now she has another problem- she can't pay Frank back and he's getting more aggressive about it as the weeks go on. Rachel's still missing, Frank's breathing down her neck with threats toward her mom, money is still an issue at home, and she's not in a good place. Chloe's desperate enough to steal... so when she makes it into a bar that doesn't card her and she sees rich boy Nathan Prescott drunk off his ass and flashing bills, she thinks it'll be an easy score. It's wrong to do this, it's dangerous, but Chloe justifies it to herself. She needs that money.

She didn't expect Nathan to drug her drink, and she wakes up to him taking pictures of her. She manages to get the hell outta there, but she still has no idea what the hell happened to her. Like.... that reeeally fucks with her, it doesn't even feel real. She can't tell anyone, she can't tell her mom, and the police won't do anything since they're under the Prescott thumb.... and well, she decides to blackmail him.

And we all know how that goes.

So... we have the highs and lows of Chloe Price. She's flawed, even starting out as unbearable, but over time she becomes more nuanced and you're invested in what happens to her. You want to see her better herself, you want her to work through her grief and get help, you understand why she hates David but when you see him and Joyce happy together and him make an effort to be better, you want to see them make amends. You know David doesn't want to replace William, hell HE knows no one ever could.

You want Chloe to keep going, to find purpose in her life and realize her own potential. You saw her at the beginning when she was broken, when she was lost and didn't see a future for herself, and it's satisfying to see her come this far to where she knows she has a future... something that becomes all the more tragic when you remember her fate in the first game.

You're invested in Chloe and Rachel's romance, you get giddy watching them flirt and do dumb, romantic, cliche things, and you're just as compelled by Rachel as everyone else. No, she's not perfect, she's not a stereotype, she's much more layered than that and it only breaks your heart when you realize that she's killed later on, that of course she's going to go missing... you already know that! So you're watching Chloe, who has gotten pieces of her life back together and is genuinely happy.... fall back down the pit, fall back into the habits she had at the beginning, and you know it will lead to her downfall.

.....TOO BAD BEFORE THE STORM DID FUCK ALL WITH THAT RIGHT?

Nope, you don't get any of that. Well, except Chloe being cringy. You get a lot of that.

No, no, we got edgelord, flanderized Chloe who thinks her wit is much greater than it actually is, whose terrible moments outweigh the good, and who doesn't grow or change no matter what influence you try to have over her.

Rachel could be replaced with a literal barbie doll and little would change. She has no charm, she's nothing like what she was described in the first game, and she's just so fucking unlikable. When she finds out that her mom isn't actually her birth mom, she claims that her whole life is a lie and her parents aren't real and she wants to meet her druggie mom who chose drugs over her for 15 years because she's the one who actually squeezed her out.

Which, by the way, WHY is this the goddamn plot?? Why did they feel like they had to shove in this "oh hey Rachel's dad is the bad guy, oh wait now this drug guy is the bad guy because he stabby Rachel, no wait now her dad is the super bad guy because he put a hit out on Rachel's REAL mom, oh no wait it's fine because Frank murdered drug man off screen" WHY YOU DO THIS??

You have three episodes. THREE. And in those three episodes, you have the opportunity to explore Chloe as a character, and her relationships with Rachel, Joyce, and David. But instead of dedicating the story to that, something you could've created a compelling narrative out of, you threw in this dumb mom plot and fire-

HOW THE HELL DID I FORGET THE FIRE????

What- why did- does she have- Rachel just- RACHEL SETS THE FOREST ON FIRE??? WHY THOUGH???

I get it, "Rachel is the fire" yeah yeah and it's dumb.

Oh and because we didn't have enough going on, here's a side mission where you gotta deal with getting money from this other kid who's running drugs for big bad drug man because he wants to help his dad who lost his job.

But WAIT, there's more- In a series where several girls were drugged by Nathan and Jefferson, forced to pose for pictures, and some even killed or driven to try and take their own life? something taken so seriously...? Victoria gets drugged and it's treated like a joke. Even worse, there is a path that has Rachel drugging her, and no one cares.

ALSO.... Rachel cheated on Chloe with two adult men, remember? One of which fucking murders her?? and we're just... we're just not gonna do anything with that??? Nothing??? Maybe a little stinger at the end but that's it????

I just..... I hate this game so much.

It had so much potential. Not only that, but it had the first game to look at and learn from. Learn from the mistakes that game made and improve upon.... but instead, they fucked up even worse. It's just a game of fanservice that has way too much going on, is trying to do too much, and loses focus on the most important things.

Three episodes could've been enough to explore different points of Chloe's character before the events of the first game. They could've crafted a story that gave more insight into her life that make sense of the choices she made, that turn her into the Chloe we see in the first game. You don't need a forest fire, you don't need evil lawyers. I know the first game had the storm and time travel and big dumb Jefferson, but you wanted to tell a story that's grounded without shit like that... y'know, before the storm.

I could probably go on and on if someone doesn't stop me, so I'll stop myself here... I hate bts because it's potential was there, I could see it in a few key moments, and it was wasted.

The romantic ideas fall flat because being pretty and gay isn't enough for me, I need more than that. I don't care if they kiss because I don't care about their relationship, and frankly, they've done very little to make me care about them as individuals.

UGH

.......does that answer your quick question? haha sorry for the not so quick answer, but like I said, this game makes my brain mad and once I get going, it's hard to stop.

#asks #this game makes my brain mad #ugh

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thatshithurted8 · 4 years

Text

Trauma

Summary: After a sudden revelation you and JJ look at each other in a different light.

Request: Hi! Can you do a request where jj and y/n ‘hate’ eachother, constantly fight and bicker. So John B and the gang truck them into getting stuck on Hayward’s boat and leave them for the night. When jj gets high he notices she gets anxious. He persuades her to reveal a sensitive side that she doesn’t like being around drugs because of her abusive dad. Jj doesn’t tell her he can relate just that he understands. He tells her that she’s beautiful and she deserves better, in his own jj way;)💗I love u @maybebanks

Trigger Warnings: Mention and depiction of overdoses, drug use, death and abuse!!

Word Count: 2.3k

When John B and the rest of the gang drove away from Heywards boat leaving you and the boy you despised the most, JJ Maybank alone you weren’t that mad. They weren’t going to leave you guys there over night. Surely they were going to come back and get you guys from the middle of the marsh so you two wouldn’t kill each other. Or so you thought.

A few hours went by, your friends have yet to return and the sun just finished setting. This is when the situation at hand finally hit you. You were stuck out in the middle of the marsh with JJ and no one else. Yea you could’ve continued what you were doing all evening which was ignore the blue eyed boy and do your own thing.

However, as the stars and moon shone down on you both and the smell of weed filled your nostrils you couldn’t help, but feel anxious. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your breathing started to become labored. You despised the smell of weed and feeling abandoned was the cherry on top. Knowing the signs of a panic attack you decide to sit down against the edge on the other side of the boat than JJ. As you do this the blond looks over at you and watches you wrap a blanket around your body before resting your head on your knees.

Despite your distaste for the Maybank boy his feelings towards you weren’t reciprocated. Yes he wasn’t fond of you especially after the first time he met you, he made a joke about you not smoking or drinking when Kie invited you to hang out, but he didn’t know why you weren’t interested in that stuff. He simply thought and still believes that you can’t take a joke. JJ hated people that couldn’t take a joke considering most of those people were Kooks. And after all you used to be a Kook when your mom was alive. As if your old social status actually mattered to anyone else though.

Finally speaking up after basically a whole evening of silence JJ opens his mouth. “You know they obviously left us here to become friends so you should make an attempt at least.”

You roll your eyes looking down at the floor between your open legs, your head still resting on your knees. He was right you should make an attempt to befriend him, but right now wasn’t a good time to try or for JJ to make a snarky remark about it.

Ignoring him, you try your best to focus on your breathing to prevent a panic attack. You hated having panic attacks in the first place, but there was no way you were going to let JJ see that side of you. You had to stay strong like you always were.

Rolling his blue eyes JJ stands up and sits back down beside you. Since you were so focused on your breathing you didn’t realize he was now by your side.

“Ignoring me isn’t helping Y/N.” He says, annoyance dripping from his voice.

JJ’s remark and the smell of weed being closer to you now was your last straw. You couldn’t hold in the panic attack anymore. Suddenly a gasp for air leaves your mouth as tears begin to fall down your face.

Confused, JJ looks over at you and notices your body shaking. Even though you weren’t his most favourite person in the world you were still apart of his friend group and the blonde would do anything for them.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” He asks genuinely concerned, placing the roach of his joint down beside him.

He places a hand on your back as you begin to sob into your hands and knees, but you move away, not wanting him to touch you. He retracts his hand, but grows even more confused and concerned. During the span of knowing you JJ has never seen you cry so he was genuinely confused as to why you were. What triggered it?

As the sound of your sobs filled JJ’s ears he felt inclined to make you feel better despite your distaste for each other.

“Talk to me Y/N.” He simply says.

You finally look over at the boy beside you, your eyes red and cheeks stained with tears. Seeing you like this flipped a switch in JJ that he wasn’t even aware of. All of a sudden he wanted to take care of you or just simply hold you. You looked so broken and JJ understood the feeling.

Without saying anything JJ scoots over to you and wraps his arms around you. Surprisingly you don’t pull away from his grasp. Instead you simply move closer into to his chest, desperately craving any type of loving touch. The blonde boy rubs his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion which you appreciate.

A few minutes go by, both you and JJ allow you to ride out your panic attack, but he made sure to show that he was there for you by holding onto you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly, looking down at you in his arms.

“Not right now.” You stutter out, still reeling from the physical and mental attack you just went through.

“Well do you want to light up? It should make you feel better.” The blonde suggests even though he knows you don’t like participating in that type of stuff.

You simply shake your head no and close your eyes while resting against his chest. “Suit yourself, but I’m going to.” He says digging through his cargo shorts pocket with his free hand for another joint.

JJ notices you sharply inhale as he does this which makes him hesitate for a second, before deciding to leave it in his pocket. “Why don’t you smoke or drink?”

The Maybank boy would always make fun of you for not participating in the same activities as the rest of the Pogues, but he just realized he doesn’t know why you don’t do that stuff.

A minute or two go by and JJ was about to ask you again, thinking you didn’t hear him, but in reality you were just trying to figure out what to say. You sigh, but not realizing you start to play with JJ’s fingers to calm yourself down.

“Do you know how my mom died?” You simply ask.

“No.” He says allowing you to continue to play with his fingers.

You were quite surprised by his answer in all honesty. Basically everyone on the island knows what happened to your family and their downward spiral to misfortune.

“She died from an opioid overdose.”

JJ’s dilated eyes widen at your answer, not expecting that to be the cause of your moms death. “Shit sorry Y/N I didn’t know.”

You simply shrug your shoulders. “It’s not a requirement for you to know that.” You say in a monotone voice as you start to think about your deceased mother.

A silence falls over the two, but for the first time ever it wasn’t awkward. JJ realized he knew hardly anything about you and he was genuinely curious to find out more, but he didn’t want to push you. So he simply started to graze his fingers up and down your wrist, moving your bracelets up an down as he does so.

Although it was dark out and the only light was coming from the moon and a small light outside of the cabin JJ noticed something on your skin. Along your wrist and up your forearm were round scars that looked like they resembled cigarette burns.

He looks down at the round marks on your arm then gazes at his legs that had similar marks along them. Someone was using you as their personal ash tray like how JJ’s father used to do.

“What are these from?” He asks, tracing his finger around one scar.

Once you realize what JJ is talking about you start to readjust yourself in his arms, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing.”

JJ bites his lip, deciding whether he should continue talking or not and he eventually decides to continue. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I have them too.” He says moving away from you to show you the scattered scars along his legs before turning slightly and lifting up his shirt to show the healed marks on his back. At a loss for words you simply ogle at the boy beside you in shock. Even though he didn’t straight up say what happens when he goes home he showed you that he understands which oddly made you feel not so alone. Who knew you guys had something so terrible in common?��

He lets his shirt fall back down and wraps his arm around your shoulders once again. You suck in a breath of fresh air as thoughts swarmed your mind. You didn’t know why, but in that moment JJ made you feel so comfortable around him that you felt inclined to tell him the deep dark truth about why you don’t do certain things.

“When people ask why I don’t drink or smoke I say it’s because of my mom.” You say grabbing a hold of JJ’s fingers once again. “Her death is a big reason as to why, but once she died my whole life went downhill. My dad didn’t cope with her death well and I can’t get mad at him for that, but he started to abuse drugs like she did.” JJ glances over at you resting on his shoulder as he listened intently to you speaking.

“My dad started to spend money on anything and everything. Then one day he went to a meeting for an important business deal, high out of his mind on coke and of course he got fired. After that we lost the house, the boat, and his car. We lost everything. And you would think that would’ve been a wake up call for him.” You say removing your head from the blondes shoulder and meeting JJ’s gaze.

JJ simply nods his head in understanding, but you take that as a hint to go on. “He only got more angry and agitated since then. He started to take his anger out on me and my brother, but mostly me because I look more like my mom.” You say glancing at the moon then back to JJ’s blue orbs.

He couldn’t believe how similar your guys’ home life was. For starters JJ’s dad started abusing alcohol and drugs once his mom passed away as well. She died of cancer and JJ’s dad felt like it was his fault since he couldn’t afford chemotherapy. JJ’s fathers built up guilt and anger against the world for taking his wife away from him ultimately festered into him beating JJ every chance he got. It also didn’t help that JJ was a constant reminder of her just by his looks.

You suck in another deep breath just before you tell JJ, the guy you despised just hours ago the most personal and sensitive thing about yourself. “It was yelling matches at first then one day he just started physically attacking me. First he slapped me a few times or pulled my hair or even pushed me down the stairs. Occasionally he would put out his cigarettes on me. Then he eventually pinned me up against a wall and held a broken beer bottle against my throat.” You say, the look on your face expressionless and your eyes dull because you were used to it. When you shouldn’t be. No one should.

As you reveal this to JJ he feels his heart clench and wince at your sentences. He understands the pain that you have and are going through more than you know. But as you tell him this he starts to connect the dots. Suddenly waking up at John B’s in the morning to see you sleeping out in the hammock or on the living room floor made sense. Or seeing you wear heavy amounts of make up on parts of your face when you hardly ever wore make up, or how you spent more time at Kiara’s and John B’s than he himself did.

You open your mouth to tell him some other things such as how you haven’t been home since that day he pinned you against the wall or how your brother is fine and misses you, but he stops you. Although he wanted you to be comfortable enough with him to tell him those things it was starting to get too much for him. JJ’s own dark memories and demons were starting to cloud his mind and he didn’t want that. He wanted to be there for you the way John B and Pope are there for him.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry you have gone through that. No one deserves to go through that.” He says turning towards you while moving a stray hair out of your face. You shrug your shoulders and give him a sad smile. After all of these years your father has made you believe that you deserve everything he does to you.

Another moment of silence falls upon you two, but JJ breaks it to speak his mind, he could tell you didn’t believe what he previously said. “You know you’re beautiful right? And although we started on the wrong foot I’m willing to be arrested again if your dad lays even a finger on you.” The blue eyed boy says, revealing his protective side which was very on brand JJ. You chuckle and nudge the boy away from you lightly. Even though you were originally anxious and upset that your friends left you two out in the middle of the marsh you are actually quite grateful they did.

“You can have the pull out couch at John B’s for now on.” JJ says scooting back over to you.

You appreciate JJ’s offer, but you can’t help, but turn it down. “No because you wouldn’t have a place to sleep then.”

“Then we’ll have to figure something out together.” JJ suggests wrapping his arm back around you.

And what JJ said was true. From that moment on you two made an effort to be there for each other while navigating each others trauma.

I have linked some websites and resources for people going through similar situations as JJ and reader in this fic. Please do not hesitate to reach out to me if need be I will try to help you to the best of my ability!

P.S: You all are strong, beautiful and loved. Don’t forget that.

https://togetherweare-strong.tumblr.com/helpline

http://www.vachss.com/help_text/hotlines_intl.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_domestic_violence_hotlines

https://pathwaystosafety.org/

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