#seriously what the fuck was up with my luck last night. almost every single round had glowflies.

[moe-broey]

Shout outs to the stinky gang I found in the sewers last night

#splatoon #BEGGING you to ignore my scores it's NOT my fault i was plagued by one million glowflies 😭😭😭 #seriously what the fuck was up with my luck last night. almost every single round had glowflies. #i swear there's like a sweet spot you wanna be too rank wise like. trying to get to profreshional 2 again. #but my luck was SO rancid last night i was blasted into overachiever. dear lord. #cannot stress enough that i am very average i cannot carry a team and i rely heavily on my teammates knowing what they're doing #which is a lot of words to say. yeah okay i'm not very good at video games sometimes. sad. sometimes i am good though. it depends. #i feel like my biggest problem actually is i tend to freeze up. or have processing lag. #which honestly is why i tend to play turn based games. some platformers with no stakes. and pvp is typically off the table for me LMAO #but splatoon is a very special game and for some reason i'm deeply into salmon run against all odds it's literally all i play LMFAO #anyways. needed to get the salt out of my system LMFAOO so sad so sad. war and hatred on planet earth ect ect #at least there is boysmell. and slime. and a rat. just one. that's all you need really

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #marvel

[sunflovverharry]

Sweet Time

a/n: soo, I took the liberty of changing the pov in the song to be from harry’s perspective instead of the oc’s, but i’m quite happy with how it turned out. i recommend you listen to the song this fic is inspired by while reading as it might give some more depth to what’s going on inside harry’s head than what i already give throughout the story. Thank you for reading and please reblog if you enjoy it xx

This fic is a part of @harrystylescherry playlist fic challenge which i’m super excited to be part of! Remember to read the rest of the entries and show your support <3

Pairing: Harry x OC Delilah Warnings: Angst, fluff, language Word count: 4.7k

It seems bad luck runs through all of Harry’s relationships. The three he’s had that lasted long enough to be considered serious all ended because of the same reason - Harry’s fame. Mixing their jealousy of the women media connected him to; and anger that he couldn’t be with them every time something important happened made him exhausted. His girlfriend was supposed to support him in every way possible, just as he would support them and know that if he could spend more time with her, obviously he wouldn’t be flying to god knows where for who knows how long. It clearly wasn’t enough for his exes to know that if he could, he would, but his life isn’t run only by himself. He has managers and a record label who tells him what to do and when.

**

Lucie had been ringing his phone for the last hour without any answer and it surely must have pissed her off because the texts she sent after weren’t pleasing to say the least. Harry had been in the studio for a while and his phone had been silenced so he could solely focus while creativity was rolling through him. He had told his girlfriend that he would be unavailable for most of the week with writing and recording as much as possible, but he’d call or text whenever he was free. Thinking she had understood, he didn’t care to text her right before entering the studio to tell her she wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him for a while, but after seeing the texts he thought to himself he should’ve texted her.

“Why the fuck aren’t you answering??” “Harry you better answer your fucking phone this instance or we’re over!” “Seriously Harry what is more important than me, your girlfriend!!” “Are you with another woman???? ANSWER ME YOU FUCKING DICK”

No, it wasn’t the first time Harry had been subject to her angry texts, probably drunk off her ass and having no one else to be mad at. He knew he shouldn’t put up with the way she’s treating him, but when they’re together she acts completely different. She never raises her voice at him or asks who women he’s seen with are. They always enjoy their time together, cuddling on the sofa while watching a movie or going to her parents’ for a Sunday roast. Though she’d never be seen cleaning or cooking, telling Harry that it wasn’t her job to do so when he could have maids and chefs.

Even his mum had told him she wasn’t what he needed in a girlfriend. A snobby, gold digger who has jealousy and anger issues ultimately wasn’t someone he had time for. Those texts were what made him decide that he had to end the relationship now, before it’s too late.

A week later he made it home from Los Angeles and he wasn’t surprised to see Lucie running towards him after hearing the car doors slam outside. She always acted as if nothing happened while he was gone. He couldn’t believe he had wasted almost a year on this girl and before she could get any closer to him he told her they were done. Yes, it sucked to tell someone they weren’t wanted any longer, but it was the right decision in the end and his mum would surely be happy he got rid of her.

**

A year after breaking up with Lucie, his third girlfriend (who honestly might have been a little too into his fame and money than he realized at the time), he met Delilah. To be honest, Harry had told himself that he wanted to stay single and focus on himself and his upcoming album, but Delilah threw his plans out the window after only a month of dating - or what he called “just friends getting to know each other”. Delilah on the other hand called them dates and could only hope it would expand into something greater than that.

**

Harry had been sat in the restaurant they were meeting at for half an hour, hoping Delilah wouldn’t be much longer. He was grateful she had texted him to let him know she’d be running later than expected as the traffic was crazy and she had to stay at work an hour longer than anticipated. If she hadn’t let him know, he’s sure he would have cried from the embarrassment.

Not knowing how much longer she’d be, he called his mum. Her voice had always calmed him down and that’s exactly what he needed at this very moment - sitting alone in a restaurant at a table for two in a secluded corner waiting for what might be the prettiest girl he’s laid eyes on.

“Hello my sweetness. How are you?” They got into talking about Harry’s surprise trip home for his sister's birthday in a couple of months. Anne and Harry were planning a surprise birthday party for her and it wasn’t something he’d ever want to miss. After minutes of talking about the surprise and anything else popping up into the conversation, Anne asked what he was doing. It wasn’t that he had hidden the fact that he had a new friend on purpose, but he supposes that he wanted to keep this one private - even from his mum who knows everything going on in his life.

“Just having dinner with a friend who’s running a tad late which is why I called you.” He wasn’t sure he was able to keep the excitement out of his answer. Though Delilah was only a friend and he certainly wasn’t looking for another relationship that would end up breaking, he already liked her more than he probably should.

“Oh, I see. A friend friend perhaps?” Anne snickered, knowing that if she pried long enough, he’d have no choice but to spill. This time it wouldn’t happen though as he saw Delilah walking towards the back of the restaurant and the table where he was seated waiting patiently for her.

“Sorry, mum, my guest has arrived. I’ll call another day, love you.” Harry didn’t hear the ‘love you’ his mum said back to him before pulling his phone from his ear and hanging up. Pocketing his phone while standing up, he smiled at Delilah who looked stressed but beautiful in her very classy outfit paired with some killer heels and Harry didn’t even want to think about how much they hurt her feet.

When they both finally sat down, the chatter never died down and the wine never stopped pouring.

**

It took a while before she earned Harry’s trust, but it was proof that he did trust her when he invited her over to his house for the first time after five months of dating. She had proved to Harry that she took his privacy seriously and she, too, wanted to keep whatever it was they had going on between only the two of them. Almost as if it was something sacred, and really it was.

Harry had been over for movie nights and dinners at Delilah’s plenty of times, even going as far as staying over a handful of times. She gave him complete reigns of what they did and never pressured him into going out in public and there wasn’t a suspicion (that Harry knew of at least) of why he didn’t want to go any further than light groping and making out before pulling away. When he wanted to talk to her, she would be there for him.

**

Delilah had her legs thrown over Harry’s thighs and his hands were lightly massaging her feet tired from a long day at work. They had ordered pizza from what Harry called ‘the best pizza place he’s ever been to’ and when Delilah took her first bite she couldn’t help but moan at the explosion of taste in her mouth. It really was the best pizza. This was only her second time hanging out at Harry’s house, only wanting to come when he invited her as to not invite herself into his most private space.

Harry had shot her a message earlier in the day asking her if she’d like to come over after work seeing as it was a Friday and therefore the night didn’t have to end as early as a weeknight. Of course, he didn’t tell her that, but he wanted to have the option open for her to stay the night if he felt comfortable enough by the end of the night to ask her.

Delilah could Harry’s head was spinning in all directions while mindlessly continuing to rub her feet, up to her legs. She could positively say none of her exes had ever given her a foot massage, making Harry look even better in her books (though he didn’t need it, he was already better than any of her expectations and she could only hope she reached his expectations).

“What’s wrong, sweets?” She had taken up the nickname for him after hearing his mum call him something similar, but not wanting to steal her nickname for him. Harry smiled every time she called him that, loving the feeling he got in his stomach from how it sounds coming off of her tongue.

“Just thinking and going in circles round my head.” It didn’t give away anything other than he was stressing or worried about something Delilah had no idea what it could be. Sitting up, she planted a kiss to his cheek before smashing their cheeks together in a tight hug - all she wanted was to be there for him if he wanted to talk, or just sit in silence together. Hopefully he’d have the guts to throw her out if he wanted to be alone.

Harry giggled when she didn’t let up her strong hold around his neck, not nearly enough to choke him, but enough to hold him in place. He turned his head to look at her quickly before melting their lips together in what can only be described as an expressive and intense kiss. Delilah didn’t know what he was trying to express, but it must be something good with the way he’s pulling her onto his lap, their lips never separating more than a second.

“Would you want to stay the night?” He had gone through every pro and con in his head, but Delilah showing him she was there for him without trying to pull anything out of him made up his mind. There was no doubt he wanted her to stay at his place for the night and he’d drive a hard bargain for her to even think about saying no.

There was no need for a bargain though, Delilah nodding her head quickly before pulling him in for another kiss, or two, or three. She wasn’t worried about not having pajamas here or her toothbrush or her trusty face cleanser. None of it mattered even slightly, when all she could think about was how much trust Harry was putting in her. For a minute there she was the happiest she’s ever been and as Harry’s nerves subsided he was the happiest he’s ever been.

The couple went for a short drive to Delilah’s apartment to pick up some essentials, as well as the supermarket to buy ingredients for breakfast in the morning (and new bathroom essentials to keep in his bathroom for times when she would stay the night). By the time they got back to Harry’s, they were ready to hop into bed - a bed she had yet to try out, but was sure would exceed all her expectations.

Harry was tucked into his bed on the side he regularly slept on when Delilah walked out of his ensuite, ready to lay down right next to him. Knowing from the past times they’ve shared her bed that he’s a big cuddler, she was excited to see how much more comfortable and cuddly he’d be in his own bed.

**

Though Harry felt safe and trusted Delilah enough to share his house with her and have her sleep over, something was still holding him back from asking the big question that they both probably knew should have come earlier. Even his mum was unsure why he hadn’t asked her yet or let her meet the woman he’s spending all his time with.

By the seventh month of dating, she was starting to question herself. If she wasn’t doing anything wrong and he still trusted her, why would he not have asked her to be his girlfriend already? She thought it was pretty clear to everyone that knew about their ‘relationship’ that she wouldn’t say no.

**

“So, Delilah, how’s it going with Harry?” She was out for drinks with her best girlfriends and the only ones she had told about Harry - except her parents, of course. It was an unwritten rule to not talk about boy trouble or anything of the sort on their nights out, but it was clear Delilah’s head wasn’t in it. Something had to be up with her and the only thing her friends could think of, was Harry.

“We’re good. He’s feeling safe and comfortable with me. We’re going to his mum’s next weekend to relax before he leaves.” Her voice was definite and if her friends didn’t know her they wouldn’t think anything was wrong with their relationship. Delilah spends a lot of time with him and the past month she’s slept over most nights, even on the days she’s had work the next. Harry had cleared out more space for her in his bathroom vanity and closet - which he knew was way larger than what he really needed, but had still managed to fill with no problem.

Delilah sipped on her drink as she went back into her head, thinking about how tonight was just like any other day. Harry will pick her up exactly ten minutes after she calls to tell him the night is over, he’ll hold her thigh on the drive back to his home while she talks his head off about nothing. When they arrive home, they’ll do exactly what they always do when she stays the night - wash their faces together, brush their teeth and while Delilah finds her outfit the next day Harry goes to get a water bottle he always keeps in the fridge that they will share throughout the night. It’s become routine and the domesticity around it makes Delilah’s heart flutter.

“Have you had the talk about going official? Becoming boyfriend and girlfriend? I thought maybe he’d asked by now with how you’ve been. I mean, you basically live there by now.” Lyla tried to pull out the thoughts swirling around Delilah’s head without being too invasive if she really didn’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t know honestly, I think we’re doing great and I’m so happy with him. I don’t want to force him if he isn’t ready, but it’s been seven months and he hasn’t said anything about making it official no matter how much it feels like it already is. I can’t imagine he doesn’t feel the same. It’s pretty obvious what we’re doing is exactly how it’s like being in a serious relationship.” She braced herself and let it all out - all her thoughts about not making it official yet or how domestic their relationship has become over the past couple months. She would be indescribably sad if Harry wasn’t to actually feel like she thinks he does and that might be the reason why she hasn’t had the guts to be the one to initiate the conversation.

**

The next couple of weeks went by smoothly for the pair. With Harry being gone for most of it, she had a lot of time for herself to go through her feelings and get the chance to figure things out. She tried to hide her - what felt like crushed - feelings from Harry, not wanting him to pry for her to open up and ruin everything. She agreed with herself that if they had to do things slower than normal because Harry needed the time to get there, then that would be okay as long as he actually would get there one day. There was also no way she could leave the man behind just because he’s been hurt in the past and is now - overly - precautious. The very least she could do to save what they had was to try and help him realize that she wasn’t going anywhere and didn’t want anything but the best for him, and she wanted to be the best.

Delilah came home from work to Harry cooking a storm in the kitchen late one afternoon after he came back to London. It wasn’t that she didn’t know he could cook that surprised her, no, he was always making them dinner - with or without Delilah’s help. What did surprise her though, was the romantic set up in the living room that she had never seen before.

**

Harry was in deep concentration standing over the stovetop where he had vegetables boiling, along with the chicken he’s grilling. It’s getting close to done when he heard his front door open and he didn’t bother turning around, knowing it could only be one person - Delilah. The girl he’d been obsessed with for the past eight months. But, fuck, he was terrified of getting infatuated with someone again, only having been burnt by it in the end previously.

There was something so raw and new with this one, though, such a breath of fresh air for him. It was like he was supposed to go through those bad relationships to end up here - with the perfect fit for him. She never took it to heart when he couldn’t be there for some things, having to leave the country for weeks at a time, but encouraged him to go, have fun, text me when you land. The first time she told him so, he was speechless and couldn’t move his feet for seconds before he got back to earth.

The first time he slept over at her place was pivotal for him and him realizing where this could go, and that was over six months ago. He had told himself to take it slow, enjoy the moment and not do anything because he felt it was the right time. The right time was usually never right in the end because he still wasn’t ready. If he were to lead a relationship with Delilah it would have to be on his terms, mostly because he didn’t want this one to go wrong. This potential relationship with the girl of his dreams was something he needed to get right. If that meant waiting a little longer to make it official, move in together or start a family - now he’s really thinking far into the future - then he would do so because he knew in the end it would save them both from heartbreak.

Ever since him and Delilah got closer his mum saw a change in him, though the insecurities and unease he had from former relationships were still haunting him. The first time he voluntarily spoke to his mum about her, she told him to follow his heart and only time could tell if she was the one for him. The last time he spoke about her, Anne told him he had to do something, because even though they act as if they’re together, she doesn’t have the security blanket of love that she needs to stay with him. That really set fire to his plans - knowing he had to do something about it before it was too late.

Therefore he ended up deciding on making her dinner and putting in effort to show his romantic side that she hasn’t seen a lot of was the way to go. He wanted to go all out for her to show that this is what he wants and he feels safe and secure enough in himself and them as a couple to make it official. It’s what he craved.

He heard Delilah’s feet softly moving on the hardwood flooring to get from the entry to the kitchen. He also knew she had smelt his cooking and seen the rose petals, candles and blankets scattered all over the living room. There was no doubt she was suspicious over the reason for his doings, but at the same time she held back and waited for Harry to make the first step.

“Hi lovey, dinner is almost ready. You want to change into something comfy before we eat?” Harry only turned around for a single second to try and see if her face could tell him anything about how she’s feeling.

“Smells delicious. Be back in a tick, sweets.” The grin creeping out from his lips couldn’t be stopped after hearing her call him his favorite nickname. He hopes it means she’s happy with him. While Delilah changes upstairs in their - pretty much - shared closet, Harry dishes up the plates and finds her favorite red wine to drink with the meal. Right as he finishes putting everything in its place, she descends from the staircase and Harry finally takes a moment to admire her. He finds her beautiful in a pair of leggings and one of Harry’s hoodies she decided to steal. Before getting completely lost in her beauty, he coughs and reaches his hand out to tell her to come sit with him on the floor in front of the sofa.

Harry wanted to wait until they had finished their meal to bring their relationship up, hoping to enjoy their little impromptu - on her end at least - date night before getting serious. Delilah was smiling and wouldn’t stop gushing over his surprise making him feel better about what was to come. He was sure she would say yes, but the little doubt he had left in him wouldn’t go away until he got his answer and knew for sure.

Later in the evening, they were still sitting on the floor, talking about their days and upcoming events. Harry’s hand was running along her legs thrown over his lap and hers were holding the wine glass recently filled up again when he felt the need to get everything off his chest.

“Darling. I know I’ve taken things slow with you, slower than we both probably wanted, but I hope you know I haven’t been stringing you along for nothing. Tonight I wanted to show you how much you mean to me and how much I’ve grown to care for you. I hope you knew that anyway.” Harry was smiling at her while coming clean with all his thoughts and feelings.

“I’ve loved the naturalness of how we’ve moved through our friendship. Nothing with you has ever felt forced or uncomfortable, maybe because you let me take my time and have control over what I can. I can’t tell you how much that has meant to me and I want you to know that it hasn’t gone unnoticed. The domesticity around us feels so easy and I hope that doesn’t ever change. Because we’ve been acting as if we’re together, it kind of slipped my mind that we’re not, but tonight I wanted to ask you, finally, if you want to make it official and be mine?”

**

After making it official, there was nothing holding them back from each other. They were together as much as their lives allowed them to be and Delilah even surprised Harry by going to his first show on tour in Los Angeles. He thought she didn’t get the time off of work to be able to come, but Delilah knew he wouldn’t be upset with her lying about it when in the end it would make him happy. They had been official for six months at the time and were practically inseparable. Neither of them knew how they would do with the distance over a longer period of time compared to the two to three weeks he was usually gone for before coming home. Sure in themselves and what they had, they knew they’d get through this, too.

**

Delilah hadn’t gotten the chance to surprise Harry much over the past year since she got to know Harry, unlike how he had managed to surprise her quite a few times. They were often small, but thought out and always showed her how much he appreciated her. For the longest time; she had been thinking about how she could surprise him without him finding out - and her chance came landing right into her hands with him going on tour. She called Jeff the minute she thought of it, the day after Harry asking her if she would be able to come out for a couple of days during his tour, preferably the first show.

Jeff and Delilah had managed to keep the secret from Harry for over a month with Jeff buying her a plane ticket for the day his first show was. She got picked up by a driver at the airport and drove straight to the Forum to catch him on stage singing his heart out. Though she was only able to see him for the last fifteen minutes of his first show, it was exactly what she imagined - Harry dancing around the stage, singing to a crowd so loud she thought her ears might lose hearing.

Right before Harry was set to come off stage, Delilah was guided through the backstage area to Harry’s dressing room where he would finally see her and hopefully get surprised. She was sitting on the black leather sofa with her hands fiddling in her lap as she waited the short while. It was clear he was getting closer as the loud screams got quieter. Excitement, nervousness, happiness, restlessness. They were all feelings running through her, the anxiety easier to feel when she finally heard his laughter moving through the hallways and she knew he was only meters away from her.

Only seconds later she saw the door handle jiggle before the door opened just a crack as he was still standing in the hallway talking to someone Delilah couldn’t quite distinguish. Finally, he pushed the door further open and he was turning toward her, no idea someone would be waiting for him, nevertheless, his girlfriend he thought was stuck at work back in London. His eyes landed on her and for a while, he just stood in front of her still in the doorway thinking he was seeing things. When he understood that she was actually sitting in front of him his eyes couldn’t help but glaze over while shutting the door - he wanted this moment to be between him and his girl, no one else. Harry practically ran toward her, thinking he couldn’t get to her fast enough, and Delilah just about managed to stand up before he threw himself at her.

For a long time they stood on his dressing room floor, Harry’s arms around her neck and Delilah’s around his waist as they held each other close. Both of them had tears rolling down their cheeks, not from the three weeks they had been away from each other, but the sentiment of her actions. All the small things she had done for him since day one, waiting for him to feel comfortable and ready to dive into what they hoped would be a future together, always asking before doing something he might not be okay with, being too kind and gentle with him, always, and lastly her surprising him on tour. Something suddenly clicked in his head as he smelled her cherry blossom perfume he loved so much - this was it; Delilah was it for him, it was she he had been waiting for to come into his life after going through too many shitty relationships and breakups. There was no way he would let this one go when she understands him and loves him for everything he is (though they hadn’t said that yet - Delilah being afraid to scare him away and Harry wanting to wait until one day it slipped and came naturally).

Delilah, too, felt the same. She knew he was it for her - showering her with the affection and tenderness she needed from someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. They were perfect together and if taking it slow was the way to go with Harry then she would continue to do so forever, making sure he is always comfortable and safe with her.

**

Thank you for reading, will hopefully be back with another chapter of my fwb series soon <3

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles smut

[archetypal-archivist]

My Beloved, Penis

Fuck it. I was infected by Penis SMP by @demonboyhalo reblogging a bunch of it and the lack of consistent lore bugged me, so I somehow banged out 2000+ words of fanfic about the Penis SMP and how it got started. Lots of internet humor and classic MInecraft shenanigans in this one folks. *slaps roof* This baby can fit so much crack treated seriously, lol. This is also up on my AO3, Zazibine, if you would prefer to read it there.

_-_-_-_

It was never supposed to get so big. It was just an SMP with a couple friends of his he had met from the Hypixel discord server, where he had logged on simply to trash talk the absolute asshole who had dared to kill him last minute in bedwars, only to stumble upon said asshole- going under the name shittyfartbaby69 of all things- complaining to his girlfriend(?) Milfboss in the voice chat. Thirty minutes later of awkward hellos and the manliest of bitching at each other (with Milf chiming in every once in a while to roast them both), and PenisUnavailable had perhaps his first Minecraft friend in, like, forever.

Then Admiral_Anus had entered chat, bitching about his competitor in ABBA Mining and his bullshit bad luck and the whole process repeated. By the end of the day, Penis had three new friends, a private discord server for the four of them, and a promise to meet up with them in Hypixel next Sunday for the ultimate round of bedwars.

The game went spectacularly. Somehow, Admiral had some of the best bridging skills any of them had ever seen, and between Milfboss' terrifying Scottish screaming and pvp and Shitty with his clutch TNT skills, the three of them almost made up for Penis' awful depth perception. They still lost around forty percent of their games, but that was certainly better than Penis' own abysmal record, not helped with his habit of walking off the edge at inconvenient times.

And it was... fun. Usually bedwars was just him playing in his bedroom alone for an hour before he rage-quit and went back to survival for a bit before he died to fall damage and rage quit that too. But shittyfartbaby69 would crack dirty jokes that he'd never even heard of before, and Milfboss would roast him for looking it up on reddit and Shitty would cuss her out as he tried to prove that no, he was being original- all while Admiral would comment of them as if they were a sideshow display. Then Admiral_Anus would turn around and knock an enemy player off their island with some clever pvp and they would all hoot and holler and swear for a while before going back to their conversation, joking about forgetting the topic and starting up a running gag about something new.

And their accents, mmm. PenisUnavailable would never say it, but he really was as American as white Wonder bread and Milfboss' Scottish brogue, Admiral's smooth British snark, and Shitty's shrieking in Australian, well. Ear candy, you know? Even if he teased them mercilessly for pronouncing shit wrong, like "buhguhr". Ppffttt, it still cracked him up how Milfboss had threatened to murder him after the dictionary app on his phone had proved him right that it was actually "Bur-gur", even if Admiral kept insisting it was pronounced "bruh-girl".

Four hours and twenty-eight wins later, they had agreed to meet up the next day to play again, preferably at an hour that wasn't two am for Shitty again. (It was two am for Shitty again, although that was because they played for six that time.) Eventually, it just became a regular thing, them playing bedwars and competing at ABBA Caving- the one game Penis was unnaturally good at, much to Admiral's annoyance- to the point where they ran out of funny jokes about their competitors and the game itself and started talking personal anecdotes.

Milfboss owned a motorcycle. Admiral, entirely independently, also owned a motorcycle, as that was the only vehicle of reasonable speed and style that could actually handle the London traffic. Shitty couldn't drive at all, something about never passing his driving test. Admiral ate cheese at breakfast. Shitty liked to burn his garbage in a metal oil drum in his backyard. Milfboss posted herself singing covers of shit over on Youtube. And it wasn't just real life stuff either- their minecraft skills were also on the table for them all to collectively roast.

Admiral had never seen a single Minecraft Championship. Milfboss thought a flat cobblestone roof was entirely acceptable. Shitty's favorite block was the flint and steel. (That's not a block, sixty-niner. Shut up, is too. OoOh, real clever, 'shut up'! Uh, how about no? How about I fuckin' make you, ever think 'a that? No nono nonono, I'm on two hearts! I'm on two hearts, stop!) It made him curious, honestly. He wanted to see Milf's builds for himself, get revenge on Shitty, see if Admiral really could beat the Ender Dragon with a knockback stick like he said he could.

So he made a minecraft server. And they all joined it. (And stuck PenisUnavailable with the bill, suckaaahhh~!)

Predictably, it all went to Hell in a hand basket pretty quick.

See, it's one thing to play with nutters like his friends in a structured set up like Hypixel games, it's quite another to try and keep a semblance of order in an open world survival server like the Penis SMP. The first five minutes had been him trying to explain the rules and teleporting everyone back to spawn over and over as they tried to "escape the cops," ie, him. The next five minutes was Shitty scream-laughing "scatter!" and other John Mulany references down the mic as everyone ran off to start their houses. Penis, as he was still "god" at that moment, used admin commands to find the closest flower field biome to settle into, hoping for some- ha- peace and quiet.

Shitty, inevitably, ended up trying to settle in the fucking Nether. Like a mad lad, you know, as you do when you are apparently obsessed with all things lava. Milfboss ended up making an oak plank box of a "tree house" in a dark oak forest, while Admiral_Anus picked a nearby swamp for his starter base. Outside of that, they just kinda vibed in discord as they tried to fend off the mobs and get enough resources to try and build up houses that were a bit more than cobblestone towers and wood boxes- er, mostly. Milf kinda just fucked off to go mining, found a skeleton spawner by chance, and made a set of iron gear to stand in the dungeon room with to just chill and kill mobs for a while. She ended up with something like 45 levels and burned her only diamond on an enchanting table so she could buff the Hell out of her iron weapons and armor.

Penis, rather typically, he though to himself, put together a basic sheep farm and started work on a cute little cobblestone cave base. He managed to get a whole twenty by twenty block room done and fully furnished before he noticed the chat full of Shitty's death messages and went to go investigate. After nearly dying in lava twice, he managed to find Shitty's pile of items floating on a basalt pillar about a hundred blocks out from his... base?

It was a soccer ball. Shitty's base was a perfect fucking spherical soccer ball made up of quartz blocks and basalt. Just. What. The Fuck??? Then out popped shittyfartbaby69 and it was PenisUnavailable's turn to misjudge a jump and plummet right into lava. Fifteen minutes and much shrieking later about losing his diamond pick, and it turns out that Shitty didn't really care about his lost items, as he really only had four gold picks, a stack of dark oak, two furnaces, a bucket, and thirteen cooked mutton to his name. Not even a bed, the fucker. He just ran back to his portal from spawn every time he just burned to death, taking the chance to gather resources on the way back each time.

And no, he wasn't following a tutorial for his "football" base. Jerk. (Although Penis did have to admire his determination...)

The day ended on Milfboss, Shitty, and Penis reconvening back at spawn to try and hunt down Admiral_Anus, who they found later having built a thirty block tall castle of all things. Out of cobble stone and the windows weren't quite even, but still, it was pretty impressive. And of course, when presented with a castle, what can what do but siege it? So they lay siege to the castle and Milfboss curb-stomped Admiral in pvp and laid claim to the throne, crowning herself queen before summarily throwing the rest of them out. It was a good day.

And the day after was a good day. They played dodge ball crossed with hide and seek in forest around Penis' house with arrows supplied by Milfboss. And the day after that, too, where they had a building competition using nothing but cobble stone, specifically to spite Milfboss, who had kicked all of their asses the day before. In fact, three wonderful weeks passed of doing normal Minecraft shit and being friends passed by, and every bit of it was great fun.

And then came the fucking role play.

PenisUnavailable would have liked to preface that with he only participated under duress, but really, Milfboss had been queen for too long and nobody wanted to risk TNT cannoning any of Shitty's nice builds, so. Well, the castle was better than his drafty cave, alright? It was cold and wet and didn't have a proper door because aesthetic (and because it usually took him several tries to work an iron pressure plate door), so there were far too many mobs wandering in at night and spawn camping him. He and Shitty had almost the same number of deaths and Shitty lived in the fucking Nether.

So yeah. Castle time, baby! Daddy needs a new home! And Admiral obviously wasn't happy living out of Milf's awful tree house hot box where they all did drugs together on day fifteen and it still smelled of burnt wheat seeds, aka "weed." It was only obvious that they teamed up to try and take back the castle.

The battle itself didn't exactly go great, but it wasn't exactly horrible either. A lot of shouting shit at each other for fifteen minutes, the majority of which he wouldn't remember until it was too late- something about server unity?- only to find out that it wasn't two on one girl boss, it was two on a girl boss and her "baked out of his mind" henchman, also known as Shitty in a squirrel furry skin.

The ears man. Those stupid (cute) ears.

And then they were running for their lives because Milf had somehow gotten her hands on a flame bow with infinity enchants.

It all culminated in a dramatic stand-off in front of Shitty's Nether Soccer ball, Milf on one side, diamond axe in hand, not a bit of armor on because of an unfortunate run in with lava, Penis and Admiral on the other, picks in hand, threatening to tear down shittyfartbaby69's base. Shitty wasn't online just then to comment, but they could all hear him click-clacking away on his keyboard so he obviously hadn't gone to sleep just yet like he said he had. At an impasse, and unable to justify letting her teammate's home be used as collateral, Milfboss stood down and gave up her "crown," an enchanted golden Prot IV helmet she had gotten off a skeleton from her spawner.

Then the great betrayal, the beginning of the end. Shitty came back online. 96-Cam joined the game, not that they noticed in the chaos. Admiral-Anus cackled wildly and PMed Milfboss the message that Shitty had sent him, giving Team Gay Sex permission to tear down his base in the name of winning the war if it came down to it- making Milf's sacrifice worthless in the end. Penis gave another dramatic speech, circling around Shitty, who was acting weirdly apologetic to Milf about betraying her and still wearing that fucking squirrel furry skin.

"You see Milf, there's one thing more powerful than a girl boss, and when it comes down to wars between kingdoms, there's something you need to remember!" Penis got out his golden ax, helpfully labeled 'Piss Off'.  "And that's a dilf with something to lose!" An enderpearl in his off hand and he teleported behind Milf, catching on fire from the lava but still landing the last hit needed to finish her off. She puffed into a cloud of EXP, swearing up a storm, and then Admiral and Penis turned their gaze to the cheering Shitty.

"AAAAAYYY, LET'S GO DADDY!" the squirrel man screeched, wild laughter shorting out the discord voice chat, making him go quiet in patches when the volume overloaded the client. Behind him, Admiral quietly started building a chair out of birch fence posts and slabs.

"Not so fast, shit-ty-fart-baaaaa-byyyyy~, this isn't quite over yet!" Penis fucking chirped, barely holding back his laughter. "You're still a fucking traitor and we can't have you backstabbing us too. Get in the chair for Daddy, okay baby?"

Admiral finished the chair just in time for Shitty to turn around and see the completed monstrosity, shrieking dying off immediately. "Oh screw you, that's just mean. The Hell man? That's not a chair, that's illegal. If you want an electric chair or some shit, just ask. That's just sad." Mentally shrugging, Admiral lit up his work with a flint and steel while Penis pillared up above where Shitty was building an electric chair out of iron bars and trap doors. Admiral nudged Shitty into the chair, Penis dumped a bucket of lava over the edge of the pillar so it flowed over him, and Shitty started giving a soliloquy about how betrayal and how his love for his "Daddy" still "burned strong".

Like his dick. Apparently.

By the time the lava finally hit the floor and burned Shitty to death, Penis was crying with laughter, shrieking down the mike and banging on the desk hard enough to make him forget that his was still on the mouse, making him mine the block under him with the bucket and sending him hurtling to his fiery death too.

It was a good day... almost.

Because, as it turned out, shittyfartbaby69 was actually a tiktokker of some renown and his cam account had record everything. And he had uploaded the bit to tiktok, as you do, where it went viral, where it wasn't supposed to. And Milfboss, who had recently been uploading covers of herself singing old classic Minecraft songs, had attracted the Minecraft fandom kids to her twitter, where she had gone to post her rage about the events of her dethroning and Shitty's execution.

Penis SMP had gotten on. Fucking. Trending. And now everyone was demanding the full clip, their names, their Twitch streamer handles, their characters' backstories.

The masses wanted lore.

Penis watched in disbelief, head in his hands and mouth agape as sugar crash played over a clip of him killing Milf on loop.

They were making memes.

...Oh god. They were screwed.

#penismp #penis smp #fanfiction #minecraft #my writing #crack #crack treated seriously #also on ao3 #penisunavailable #milfboss #shittyfartbaby69 #admiral_anus

[greenninjagal-blog]

Deja vu pt2

Wow, I did not expect this to get the following that it did. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying this! Here’s part 2  But if you missed part 1 you can find it [here]! 

Summary: Four years after Remus runs away, he makes a friend and gets to see even more death.

Words: 5293

Read on Ao3 || My general writing Masterlist

Remus spends his twenty first birthday at his favorite location: The Basilisk Casino. Its a nice place, the type of place that drains life forces with people along with their wallets. The golden walls shimmer like scales if you look too long at them, which is all the more reason to focus back on the dice, the slots, the chips and coins and cards. The coins all have snarling snakes on them and Remus just loves rolling his thumb over the crevices of the design while he watches his opponents sweat. He can’t count the number of times he’s been cursed out at the table, the number of times he’s been checked for bugs by the debugging crew, the number of times that he’s had several dealers and security watch him as he played at the tables, the number of times where he cashed in his coins and called himself “Lucky”. 

Luck, of course, has nothing to do with it.

But he usually walks out of the casino several thousand dollars richer and it’s nice. To have money, to have a room in the upstairs hotel that he paid for himself, to have clothes that he picked out, to wave his excess cash in the faces of every person who’s tried to figure out how he’s cheating.

(Because they all know he’s cheating. One doesn’t go a full night at the tables without losing once. It's actually impossible.)

((Unless, of course, you can see the future.))

Remus is twenty one and he’s never lost a game of cards.

The staff has mixed feelings about him and Remus knows this, because they hate cheaters when it reflects badly back on them-- and boy did a lot of them get yelled at those first three weeks before Remus had asked his poor dealer to invite her boss to the table to play-- but the number of cheaters that Remus outed purely for the fun of seeing their eyes go wide has landed him in the good graces of a few.

Which is weird, being in the good graces of people. And so is knowing that if he finds that one cute dealer with the scar on his knuckles, they’d go up to Remus’s room and they’d spend the night with two bottles of Baileys and no clothes.

“Hit” Remus sings as he knocks on the table behind his cards. His dealer, a girl who’s been working for a while and knows his tendency to give her instructions before she’s finished dealing to everyone at the table, nods to show she’s seen him. The players to his left and his right both glare at him.

Remus smiles, because he already knows what cards they’ve got and what they were going to bet now that he’s announced himself: the old guy with the silver watch was going to stand, the loser with the mullet was going to hit as well, and the woman who’s tag was sticking out was going to hit then split. 

Only that old guy was going to walk away with any money earned, four rounds later, after the lady loses everything she made in a risky gamble and the slots catch Mullet head attention.

Remus stays because he likes Blackjack, likes the easy memorization, likes the repetition and the exchange of chips, and he flips one of his Barneys in the air as he waits for the table to refill. 

“That’s certainly impressive,” A voice says sounding like silk even over the chattering of the slot machines to their backs. 

“This? Its nothing!” Remus flips the coin again, letting the stranger catch it in the air. “I’m more impressive in the bedroom.”

The man hums, twisting his wrist to look at the coin he caught. “Do you often let people steal 500 American dollars from you?” The man asks so very teasingly as he rolls the coin between his own gloved hands. 

“You’re going to give it back,” Remus says with a grin, “One way or another!”

The man has a nice smile-- a smile far nicer than the one the dealer with the scar on his knuckles has-- and its prettier in the present time than looking at it in the future. His teeth are all aligned and straight and his molars grind together just enough to look like a threat. He was dressed better than most of the people out tonight: no fancy tourist with rented suits that barely fit, and he had an actual handkerchief. 

Remus wonders if he pulled it out would it be tied to another and another and another like every other clown he’s met? 

--No. The man just laughs at him and and twirls the Barney between his hands.He does not ask for it back.--

“You’re awfully confident about getting your money back when this is a game between the house and I,” the man says. He’s got green eyes, and black hair that’s gelled right back out of his face. The way he leans against the table makes him so easy to push--

--The man hits the ground spilling his rack of chips and the nearby tables pounce on them like panthers. Its honestly funny to watch and Remus laughs the entire time as the police are called.--

“I’m confident about a lot of things,” Remus wiggles an eyebrow at him. “How confident are you?”

Instead of answering the man places the purple coin in the betting square on the table. Remus tosses a pumpkin just to top him. 

“I heard a rumor that there’s a man here who’s never lost a game before,” The man with the green eyes says and even though there are four other people at the table (betting far lower than them of course; the table minimum is twenty five), Remus feels almost as if its just the two of them in the world. “Can I assume that man is you?”

“You know what they say about assuming,” Remus laughs as the dealer begins her deal, “It makes an ass out of me and you!” 

There’s a four of spades in front of him, and an ace of clubs in front of the stranger. The dealer has a five of diamonds. 

--He hits and receives a King of diamonds that puts him at fourteen. The stranger also hits, and receives a matching King of diamonds. He stands and the dealer reveals her second card: a jack of clubs. Fifteen to Fourteen to the house.--

--He hits and receives a King of diamonds that puts him at fourteen. The stranger also hits, and receives a matching King of diamonds. He hits a second time and receives a three of clubs. The dealer reveals here second card: a jack of clubs. Seventeen to fourteen to Remus--

The stranger is watching him, Remus notes with a feral grin as he taps the table behind his cards for their lovely dealer. The stranger who was betting using Remus’s money, scans the table and then taps as well.

The dealer gives Remus and Dee their matching Kings of diamonds.

“What are the chances,” The stranger muses. “Perhaps I should bet with your money more often.”

Remus taps the edge of the table behind his cards again. 

“Don’t worry about that!” Remus waves him off, “You’re going to lose it in Poker in an hour.”

“Are you challenging me to a game?” the man says, half turning from the table to wave down a drink waitress. “Why would I ever want to play a game of cards with a man who doesn’t lose?”

“Beats me!” Remus admits, “but we end up over there anyway!”

The stranger laughs. It sounds like a melody to Remus’s ears, something soft and warm and Remus thinks he should hate it. Whats the point of soft and warm things when there are chips and cash and not-completely-terrible-whiskeys? Soft and warm things are illusions anyway: no mother’s love is unconditional, and no late night blanket forts in his brothers room last forever.

Isn’t it great? That whole “growing up” thing?

He’s thought about making a call with the payphone but Roman’s old number is someone else's now and Mom answers the landline with a different last name.

Remus is twenty one. Roman should be too. If he managed to stay alive this long without Remus being his godforsaken guardian angel.  

The waitress returns with the drink and its a screwdriver that smells like oranges even from where Remus is standing. The stranger gathers up his chips won in the game, and slots them back into his rack.

“Well?” He says, “I would like to see this cheating trick of yours.”

Remus laughs at him taking his own tray. “No one knows my trick.” 

“Oh?” The man sips his drink, “No one knows? Do I get a prize if I figure it out?”

Remus’s shoulder brushes with the man as they walk towards the poker tables. Its quieter here, away from the slot machines, and the tables are thick with intense glares at cards. The craps tables are going strong and someone must have just won big because everyone is clapping and someone is screaming. The roulettes are hardly any better, although Remus nearly cleared out a whole dealer last week with his multitude of correct guesses that got him physically dragged from the table because its literally a 1 in 36 chance every single game and theres no way anyone should be able to win three times in a row, much less fifteen. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Remus says as they join a table for poker that was just clearing up. “If you can figure out my trick, I’ll do one thing for you.”

“For me?” The man echoes, “Interesting. Anything I want?”

“I will fuck you on this table if you tell me to,” Remus says, making the woman next to them choke on her pina colada.  

“Charming,” The man hums, “But I believe I have a much better thought in mind.” 

He’s taking it surprisingly seriously and Remus knows he should probably be concerned, but the truth of the matter was, he wasn’t. After all, he spent nine years physically telling the people closest to him that he could see the future, and they didn’t believe him. A strange man who was going to lose the first three hands is never going to believe in a magic like that.

The irony of it all. Remus wonders what he did that pissed off the big G up there so badly that they cursed Remus to never be believed. Maybe he should have just changed his name to Cassandra and started wearing tunics around the casino (because hell yeah those things would have been much more breathable than these slacks and button up he was currently wearing). Plus a tunic would totally show off his calf muscles. 

--He gets to play three more games of roulette before he’s forced out by security who ask him very nicely to put on pants before coming back and Remus just thinks its funny how he got in to play in the first place. Turning the poor door boy bright red and stammering--

There’s something fascinating about the way the strangers lips look around the straw, the way his eyes settle on the cards of the table the way his gloves fingers weave over his chips with the certainty of someone who knows what they are doing. Remus thinks that he might have played a game with this man before, once or twice, (because he comes here often enough, doesn’t he?) but his memory hasn’t been great since he was seventeen and thought about crushing his brother’s windpipe.

Remus is twenty one and this stranger looks like danger no matter which way Remus squints at him. But is that such a bad thing?

“Are you going to look at your cards?” The man asks without looking at him.

“No,” Remus says, because he already has in the future and he’s got a seven and an eight both of diamonds. (The strangers fingers hover over his own cards-- a five of clubs and a jack of spades-- and his green eyes darting to glance at Remus in suspicion.) The other players at the table shift nervously and Remus thinks that even the old lady at the end is going to pitch a fit about Poker etiquette but she holds her tongue. 

He sees ahead to the rest of the hand, something he glanced at earlier. By the time the dealer draws the turn card, Remus not looking at his cards makes the the business man to their left  over confident about his chances about his straight. The couple on his right have both individually decided to back out, and the old lady is holding nothing but a two pair. She folds when she realizes that neither Remus nor the very attractive stranger to his left are going to fall for it. 

The stranger folds, the businessman checks, and Remus wins the round with a straight flush without having picked up his cards before revealing them.

“You’re cheating!” The business man yells and Remus grins at him as he takes the two blacks and the quarter that the man bet with.

“Not in any way that you can prove, big boy.”

He’s twenty one and he wins the next three hands before the table clears out of all but him and the stranger who followed him there. Security is called twice to deal with another debugging ritual at the old lady’s insistence and the the dealer is screeched at by several parties. Remus thinks the old guy handles it with grace and elegance: threatening to have security called over if the players don’t sit down right then and there.

“How much do you make in a night?” The stranger asks, as the dealer changes from the older gentleman to a young girl.

“Are you planning something?” Remus asks, inhaling the scent of oranges that waft off this stranger, “Gonna get me drunk and in bed and then steal my money? Slit my throat for good fun?”

“I don’t think I’d have to get you drunk for that,” His eyes slide past Remus for a moment to something across the room. 

“Oh, so true,” Remus agrees, “Everyone loves a good bit of knife play!” The dealer begins to shuffle the cards to nicely. 

“Besides,” Those green eyes come right back to Remus, startlingly close and perceptive in a way that makes shivers run down Remus’s back. “Shouldn’t you already know the answer to that?”

Remus is twenty one, spending his birthday in a Casino as far away from where he grew up as he can be. And despite not having talked to his family in four years, he can still hear Roman’s voice in his head, chanting a mantra of “I don’t need you”, “I don’t need you”, “I don’t want you”. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy,” Remus says picking up his cards to look at them, to feel them, to remind himself he’s here in this casino and not back in the room with his hands on Roman’s fluttering little pulse.

The stranger rolls a Barney from his tray, Remus’s Barney, and places it on the betting pool. “Interesting.”

Remus wonders what that means, but there’s no answering vision. Any time he pushes the stranger laughs it off until the dealer motions for them to play or leave the game. 

Remus is twenty one and the way that this stranger said “interesting” is the way a scientist says it before they start dissecting a frog. Clinical, cold, like a knife straight to Remus’s throat. His green eyes are dangerous pins holding Remus in place at this table, but he can’t find it in him to wish he was anywhere else.

The stranger picks up his new cards and pretends to look at them. Remus isn’t sure what that means, isn’t sure why this stranger suddenly seems so much different, isn’t sure what could possibly be more interesting than the card game they're playing.

Until he is.

Of course because--

-- He places another three blacks in the betting pool in front of him and he turns just in time to see the stranger lunging towards the crowd that was passing behind them; towards the armed security guard that was wheeling the fucking cash box of the casino towards the elevator to the vault across the floor fuck. Several guns go off and and there’s a couple hundred screams that break Remus’s eardrums in the moment, but all he’s aware of is the body at his feet, the body of the stranger with pretty green eyes, with welts of red bursting out the back of that nice tailored suit that was suddenly shredded and that face smashed into the floor, but there’s no mistaking the way his skin on the left half of his face wasn’t--

There’s something in the back of his throat that tears him up inside, like he’s regurgitating a bunch of swords he forgot he had swallowed. Every hair on his body stands on end, curling with an electric current that didn’t actually exist but one that Remus couldn’t get out of his veins even is he started carving with a knife--

He forgot-- how did he forget? He hated the color red so damn much; how could he have forgotten that?

He grabs the stranger beside him with an iron grip and pressed him to the table as that cash box rolled by, as that future twists away, as that sight fades from his vision from something plausible to a nothingness in the back of his mind. 

“Sir?! Sir!” 

The stranger gasps for air, looking caught between surprised and not, with those fake green eyes and that stolen black hair, and that completely unmarred face and makes Remus’s skin crawl. Remus wonders if this stranger--this stupid idiot of a stranger-- knows his body reverts to normal once he’s dead and gone and passed.

The rest of the table is in chaos, and Remus isn’t sure if its because both his and this stranger’s chips just got tossed across the table with the viciousness of a life or death (or death or death or death) situation, or because the Dealer dropped her deck, or because Remus just grabbed a man and that wasn’t poker etiquette or something else entirely.

He doesn’t care.

He lets go of the stranger (the living, breathing alive stranger), and he shoves through the buzzed, singing pair behind him, knocking them both to the ground. His hands-- oh fuck his hands sting and shake with some emotion that Remus can’t remember the name of.

“Sir! Your chips!”

Remus rips at the collar of his shirt, tearing off an entire button as he struggles to get enough oxygen in his lungs. The golden walls shimmer and shine and distract, but Remus throws himself through the crowd to the exit.

Remus is twenty one the first time he meets someone else like him.

Well not entirely like him, because this stranger who stumbled upon him by chance doesn’t see the blood, or the deaths, or the future. He doesn’t know all the consequences, doesn’t know the feeling of seeing living, breathing people just stop, doesn’t know what it smells like to mix blood and a half finished screwdriver on the floor of a casino for a box of cash that he had no chance of leaving the building with in the first place.

The night air hits him like an eighteen wheeler (which Remus knows what that feels like, he does, because he thought about it once out of curiosity four years ago when he couldn’t quite believe that he had wasted seventeen years of his life on someone who would never been willing to do the same). Its bitter cold and harsh and it tears his skin almost right off his bones.

He stumbles and nearly falls, does fall, is caught.

Caught by the back of his shirt and hoisted back up, with a second hand stabilizing him by his chest. Remus starts to laugh because he didn’t see this coming. Of course he didn’t see this coming.

Its almost like that day when he didn’t see that argument with Roman coming, except back then he was looking ahead and that wasn’t an option, and now he just hadn't been looking long enough, hard enough, close enough.

Remus feels something against his back, solid, cold, oh its a wall. The stranger who followed him from Blackjack to poker, who bet with Remus's money, who just caused Remus to lose his first game of cards ever-- that stranger with green eyes that aren't real is right in front of him pressing him to the wall and holding him steady.

Remus laughs harder like he can dislodge the cancerous lump in his throat by the force of his will alone. 

"Did I die?" The stranger asks as Remus wheezes for air.

And isn't that just hilarious?

"Everyone...dies!" Remus convulses under the man's touch, "Everyone dies... someday, Scales!"

The stranger isn’t like him, because instead of seeing things and wondering if they’re all in his head, he fucking changes his appearance.

Remus hiccups painfully-- a gasping air that shreds his diaphragm as he laughs with tears on his face. He forgot again: how he hates the sight of red, how he needs to breath if he wants to keep living, how he's too old to be crying over every single, little, itty, bitty death he sees.

"You can see the future," the man says like a statement while Remus drags his nails over his own face and through his hair to get rid of his worthless tears.

"Its funny!" Remus grins with all his teeth. "It's always funny! Did you know you revert back to your natural half snake self when you die?"

The stranger flinches, just like everyone does when Remus opens his mouth and talks about death, just like someone who’s afraid of dying, just like Roman.

“You,” Remus says gaining enough sense of his own to shove the stranger off of him and back, “You are…batshit fucking insane!” He laughs, because what else is there to do? Scream? Cry?

(He’s screamed and cried before. It doesn’t work, because they never believed him and then they go and get hurt and tell Remus to shut up, shut up, I don’t need you--!)

“How far in the future can you see?” The stranger asks.

“Take me to dinner first,” Remus twists a hand through his hair, then drags it down his face, smushing his nose and flattening his mustache and then dropping it into the empty air.

The stranger catches his hand, and the silk touch of the gloves freezes Remus’s where he stands, against the wall of a casino in a dark alley where the shimmering light doesn’t touch and the sound is strangely diluted.

“Answer me,” the stranger demands.

Remus laughs, “Or what? You’ll turn your hands into claws and rip my throat out? Maybe roll your body into a giant python and choke the life out of me without leaving a fingerprint? Can you secrete poisons too? Spit them right into my eyes--”

His other gloved hand goes right over Remus’s mouth, squeezing the hallows of his cheeks until its just borderline painful. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Remus already knows the answer before this stranger asks, already knows that despite the burning closeness between them, despite the cool indifference he’s been portraying, despite the millions of ways that he could kill Remus, he’s not going to, not in any way that matters.

He’s a good guy like that.

Kinda.

“You must think I’m insane,” Remus gurgles, shoulders shaking from laughing, with the future in his eyes and no air in his lungs.

“Are you?”

“Not that insane. Not yet!” He pushes off the wall and leans forward into his companions personal space until their faces aren’t more than a few inches apart. “Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of stability, Slitherous Snape!”

“Stability is a lie made up by society to sell more products.” The man waves him off, easily without putting so much as an inch between them. “You are a seer. And I’m in desperate want of someone who can see the future.”

“Because you want to rob the casino we just left,” Remus says.

It sounds different coming from his own lips rather than the man before him. It sounds different hanging in the space between them. It sounds different being a real thing.

“Because I want to screw over the owner of that casino for some unsavory acts he performed against someone who was dear to me,” The man corrects.

“An altruist!” Remus does a shimmy with his upper body. “All that money is just a bonus then, right?”

“Oh yes absolutely! And How…” The man hesitates and clears his throat innocently, “How much money…did you say?”

Remus laughs at him, again. The hysteria is fading leaving another pesky emotion that Remus doesn’t know if he likes or not. Its dangerous, he knows that. Dangerous because even while he stands here, talking to this shapeshifter who is every bit a lie as a person can be, he feels his heels beginning to dig into this idea.

This stupid awful terrible idea. This What if---

---oh…. Oh no.---

“How many times do we die?” The man asks, breathlessly excited. “How many times do we get away?”

Remus is twenty one and he knows that stealing is morally wrong.

But.

But there’s a man in front of him who likes money far too much and a casino behind him that’s filled to the brim with cash waiting and six hundred fifty million futures where they both die painful, violent, expected deaths.

And for once Remus can’t even focus on that part of this frankly awful idea. He’s too busy focusing on the way that in every single future-- all of them-- there’s not even a little--

Remus watches them again and again, as many times as he can until he almost forgets that they haven’t even happened.

And oh. 

The stranger is looking at him and there’s something in those green eyes that he can’t hide even if he wanted to.

“There’s a dealer,” Remus says, because he needs to see it happen for real. “Two inches taller, blue eyes, scar on his knuckles. Turn into him.”

The stranger blinks and his eyes are blue, his skin ripples like a puddle when a child jumps in it, and suddenly Remus is staring at someone completely different and yet entirely the same. The man before him is the dealer from the casino, but when he smiles so softly all Remus can see is that stranger who didn’t hesitate at all.

And oh. 

Remus knows he’s in trouble, because he can feel electricity in his veins, that burns all of his nerves and hijacks his brain. Because this is what its like for someone to trust his power, for someone to have complete and utter faith in him.

This is what someone believing him when he said he could see the future is like.

“You’re bleeding,” The man says tentatively.

“Happens,” Remus says cupping his hand under his nose to catch the red splatters before they hit the ground. In the shadows he can’t see just how scarlet they are and he thinks that’s a relief. “You really….you really didn’t hesitate.”

“Should I have?” The man cocks his head to the side, half a grin on his face, as if he doesn’t quite get the joke Remus is telling. (There’s no joke, and that fact alone makes Remus’s stomach flip.)

The question is a loaded gun anyway and Remus doesn’t feel like pulling the trigger on himself today at least.

Remus is twenty one and he helps rob his first casino.

Which seems insane, because Remus is a lot of things, but he wasn’t really a lawbreaker until that moment he talked the man who could shapeshift into anyone straight through the four levels of security and the cameras and figured out the codes that he needed to get in to the vault and the path he needed to take out, which led him all the way up the stairs to Remus’s hotel room.

There’s enough money on the floor to fix the world hunger. The man, his partner in crime, the shapeshifter sits in the middle of it like a dragon watching his hoard, scribbling mathematics on the hotel provided pad of paper so that he can count it all. His shapeshift is off, allowing Remus a look at his green scales and yellow eye without all the blood.

He’s grinning like the cat that caught that little canary. Remus thinks its a good look on him.

Remus holds one of his poker chips in his hand, a Barney that wandered off from the casino floor and found its way to Remus’s hotel room.

“So,” He says, because silence has never been his type of thing, “What now? We split ways?”

The man makes another mark on his pad of paper shuffling through the green papers. “I’m afraid not. You still owe me.”

“What?” Remus turns to face him, and if there’s a spark in his chest, a nudge of excitement, well who can blame him? Its not like hes spent his whole life waiting for people to leave him.

Another dash on the paper. “We made a deal, unless you’ve forgotten. You said that if I could figure out how you were cheating, you’d do one thing that I want you to do.”

Remus snorted and waved to the money around them, “What do you call this?”

“This?” The man gave him a shark-like smile, “You did this of your own violation!” He held up a wad of cash, a smug superior smile on his face, that makes his fangs glisten.

“I seem to recall you asking,” Remus challenges.

“Not in this timeline, Love Muffin,” The man throws the cash at him. “You still have blood on your face by the way.”

Remus lets the cash fall to the floor because money is nice, but there’s something much nicer about the way that this man is looking at him, the way he’s still looking at him, like Remus is something more than a nuisance, more than a distraction, more than an unwanted, frustrating intrusion. 

“What do you want?” Remus says, because he hasn’t looked ahead this far yet and the uncharacteristic fear in his chest is slowly turning all his organs to butterflies. 

He knows what he wants this man to say, knows what he wants to hear come out of this man's mouth and he thinks that if he looks in the future and its not what happens, Remus will surely explode right there in his (their) room. 

“Hm?” The man says tapping his hotel offered pencil to his chin. “Well, you did say anything I wanted right? Anything at all?”

Remus nods, rolling his finger over the snake design on his stolen poker chip.

“Well then, the one thing I want…” He hesitates, “...is for us to stick together. I think we make quite the team, don’t you? My name is Dee.”

“Remus,” He chokes, because suddenly there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the world, and he’s afraid if he inhales too deeply trying to get more, the whole reality will shatter.

Dee makes another mark on the paper. “Well Remus,” He says, “Any other places you’d like to rob with me?”

Remus is twenty one and he thinks that this is the best birthday he’s ever had.

(Part Three)

#sanders sides #Remus Sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #deja vu au #remus has precognition #casinos #Blood #violence #robbery #Sometimes you just gotta Oceans Eleven this Shit #the author probably should have slept instead of written but #oh well #Demus? Demus #The power of friendship compels you to rob a casino

[princessofgayskull]

somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?” Scorpia raised an eyebrow. 

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete. 

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body. 

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that. 

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation. 

“Oh.” 

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence. 

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think? 

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt. 

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority. 

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang. 

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task. 

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her. 

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a  person who takes care of and looks after her children? 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that? 

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with? 

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response. 

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.  

#catradora #sav writes a baby fic #catradora fic #she ra and the princesses of power #up until like three hours ago i forgot i told you guys i wasn't going to write this fic #surprise! #I'm hoping not to trip before the finish line #but thank you to tol and ren for convincing me to sit down and write this

[jjkpls]

(y)our name 2 - two (m)

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 10.3k

> warnings/content : dumbassesfriends to lovers, unrequited love, slice of life; cursing, dirty talk, penetrative intercourse, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, some filth and then some more filth; jk being a lil shit, oc still panicking

jungkook : Who said I don’t want it

It took him a good twenty minutes to send this. You don't know if he pondered over it for that long or if, after getting back to whatever it is he was doing, the thought suddenly sprang in his head. It's such a curious message. Makes your heartbeat stutters and your hands clammy and it takes you an eternity to formulate a response.

you : Well you sent me the link for a reason

jungkook : Yea cause I thought it might help but it has nothing to do with what I want

What?

jungkook : You’re the one who said you wouldn’t do it again with me

What?

you : Did i say that?

jungkook : Yes you did

You start to type but stop as you realise you don't even know what to say. He wants it again? And what is he even saying? You don't remember ever saying that. Everything's a blur honestly, but Jungkook's words, his insistence, it almost gives off the feeling that he remembers well. Perhaps he hasn't just brushed it off like you thought he did.

you : Would you want it again?

jungkook : Say what you meant to send and I’ll answer

Those goddamn dots.

you : That’s not very fair but whateva

you : You wanna be a big baby as you always are

jungkook : I’m not even going to answer that

you : Well you just did idiot

You purposefully waste time, just trying to delay the confession.

You want to test your luck -maybe rejection is not what's waiting for you. He's pushing it, demanding you to tell. He's admitted some of his own feelings so you should do the same.

you :  it’s just that I found myself very frustrated, to an extent solo doesn’t do anything for me anymore..

As soon as you send the text, you shut the device off, throwing it down on the carpet. It's burning like your shame on your face and you can't bear to hold it any longer.

You really sent that. Your heart is beating furiously. You feel yourself sweating bullets. It's so hot, you sway your legs nervously, vainly hoping to ventilate the suddenly overly-heated room.

Jungkook is sweet, he doesn't leave you hanging for too long and soon enough, your phone is vibrating, begging you to pick it back up.

jungkook : Of course it wouldn’t 

you : Ok don’t even get cocky with me dude

jungkook : Why not? It’s my fault isn’t it?

jungkook : Cause I made you feel that good

So he knows. You were annoyed for you found yourself troubled, anxious and restless. Shaken to your core, moved to your soul. But a side of you, the rational one, kept pestering that you were the chaotic, dumb and weak one responsible for the mess he's made of you. However, here, he admits he knows. He's known all along. He's done it on purpose: fucking you up.

you : 😐

jungkook : Don’t admit it it’s fine we both know it

What an ass.

you : Seriously you’re too cocky what for

Your brain is off right now. You don't know what to say, tempted by the teasing warmth your chest is taken over but nervous to let it spread too far.  

jungkook : I know I’m right

jungkook : I’m not trying to embarrass you

jungkook : Maybe embarrass your exes a bit

jungkook : But it’s pretty easy to tell

jungkook : When someone hasn’t felt a certain way before

jungkook : I know you’ve never come that hard before

jungkook : Don’t lie to me

jungkook : And more than once you reacted like I was crazy

jungkook : Thats the whole fun of playing with a cunt it’s to make it come endlessly until it hurts and your soaked sore and allswollen adn red

Shit. How does he even do that? With just a couple of texts, rendering you speechless, breathless and burning. Soaked in your panties, the discomfort so evident you have to sit up, thighs pressed to one another by fear of exposing the incriminating dark spot out in the open.

He does own you. Capable of manipulating your body and mind with a few well-chosen words. It's something you've never played with, dirty talking. And you didn't know you'd like it as much as you do. But when Jungkook does -the other night, tonight by text- it's lethal.

But how could he do it so easily? Turning so lewd so suddenly? When for the past weeks, he's acted so natural, so casual as if he couldn't care less about the sex you've had. How can he just switch like that?

you : Are you drunk?

jungkook : 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂

jungkook : A bit tipsy we went to a bar with the crew

That explains some of it.

jungkook : Was it too much?

you : Nono it’s fine

you : I just don’t know what to say

jungkook : Tell me what you want

jungkook : What you meant to ask me the other night when I so rudely interrupted you with a dumbass article

Well, shit.

It's just Jungkook. Honesty and shamelessness are the main keys of your friendship. However, you're not him and expressing your sexual desires as easily as he does is not innate.

jungkook : Don’t be shy just tell me

Fuck it.

you : I’d like it if you could be with me again like the other night

You can count the excrutiatingly painful seconds as they tick by. It's been fiveteen.

you :  😬

Now, fifty.

you :  😖 😖 😖 

Finally, he decides to spare you.

jungkook : Is being friends is not a problem anymore?

you : Idk i trust you you trust me

you : We communicate well most of the time

you : Last time wasn’t such a big deal was it? I feel like we’ll be fine

you : Don’t you think?

You're rambling. You need to stop rambling. It's one thing to be in constant panic mode with this shit -this you can deal with, you know yourself and you accept it- but Jungkook really doesn't need to know.

jungkook : Idk I guess you’re right

you : So when you come back are you going to consider it?

jungkook : No

What a dick. Toying with you, bringing you there to then, deny you. How dares he?

jungkook : I’ve made up my mind already

jungkook : You’ll have me if you show yourself convincing enough

you : like how?

jungkook : It’s not that hard 

jungkook : I love it when someone makes me feel like you really want me

jungkook : *they

Oh boy.

you : k ill try

You’re resolute to try. To try your hardest. It kills you, the idea that he somehow managed to have the upper hand in this. It feels like he's going to make you suffer. But the point of the matter, the only thing you care about anymore is the fact that you were wrong -he did enjoy the first time if he’s up for a second. Oh, and also, obviously, the fact that you are a couple of hours away from a devastating orgasm you've been craving for for weeks. 

You spend the whole day -luckily for you, you're not working- prepping you. Trimming and grooming. Exfoliating and moisturizing. And as you’re doing all that, your stamina is twitching in anxiety because, holy shit, it feels like it never stops. There’s always a thing to arrange, another one that wouldn’t let itself fixed and when was the last time you spent that amount of effort into looking (that) attractive for someone? Even for Namjoon, you did not.

You did a lot. You cared about him. Namjoon was always so class and handsome and you hated the idea of being an ugly potato attached to his side so you’d take care of yourself more than you would when completely single -just gotta be honest. But not as much. You’re not exactly sure why. Probably because Namjoon was attentive and sweet but not the same kind of lover. He wouldn’t feel you up as heavily as you remember Jungkook doing. He’s never specifically asked to see you with the lights on. He’d talk to you and listen and maybe that’s more what it was about. He would lean in and seem to be drinking in your appearance when you’d be having a good conversation. One where you’d get animated and passionate. You’re pretty sure your brains -no matter how lame you consider them to be next to his- were what he liked the most about you. He must have found you pretty. Surely. But you’d never really caught him giving you a longing stare from the other end of the sofa when you were not looking.

He’d call you pretty and ravishing when he’d come to pick you up for a date and you’d spent a lot of time dolling yourself up. But always the same way. Always the same words. Never anything specific to what you were wearing or whatever. And his eyes were not really looking, were they? It didn’t hurt your feelings nor your ego that much. Because there’s probably nothing more flattering for you to have someone like you for your mind rather than your appearance -the flimsy quite irrelevant thing that you don’t really have much control over. It was fine. And like everything that used to be fine, Jeon Jungkook had to make it a problem.

As you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, pinching your lips together to spread the lipstick more evenly, you’re reminded of the way his hot stare was burning you that night. You remember how every time you’d look his way in the dark, you’d see his big round eyes locked on you with the cute stars in it shining fondly. You have no idea how attracted he is to you physically. You have no idea if he is at all or it’s just a thing that he does. Maybe he likes you the way you like an ugly old picture of yourself. With time and fondness, it becomes sweet and special and you just like looking at it.

Maybe, it's a weird analogy.

More so given what he’d be doing to you, the words he was saying while looking at you like he did. You don’t know how to read this distinctive mind of his. It’s new territory. Not completely terrifying because there’s your guide, your best friend, walking you through it. But it’s like a new mansion you’re just visiting. So bright and light and welcoming, with so many doors all closed but not locked and you don’t know what’s behind any of them even though you’re so curious to figure it out. There’s all those new faces, secrets behind those doors. You hope he’ll open them to you. All of them. They’re holding, you're certain of it, mind-blowing surprises -if the other night, where you discovered an actual man instead of your little boyish baby of a friend, is anything to go by. And it’s wonderful, that idea. That after all this time, after being so sure of knowing the kid like you’ve crafted it from scratch yourself, there is still more to learn about him. New things for him to amaze you with.

“What are you doing?” Eun is watching you with a hand on the frame of the door, eyes blown wide and a weird stance. She looks about ready to flee like she’s witnessing something so unspeakable she is that close to jump on the phone and call the cops.

That’s rude. You’d frown if you were not so concern about munching up your freshly applied mascara. Fair enough, lately, you haven’t been exactly runaway material but the way she’s looking at you is plain blank offensive. 

“I’m just making myself pretty. Do I look weird to you?” Maybe you do. Maybe you overdid it a bit. 

She completely ignores your concern to jump on the exciting bait you did not even mean to throw. “What for? You have a date?”

“No, I don’t. It’s for my own, uh, enjoyment.”

Her face twists comically while she tsks in disdain. “Bitch, please.” Getting ruder by the second, she is. “You have a date. It’s not Namjoon is it?”

“No, not with Namjoon. But do I look too different, like strange-different?”

“You look gorgeous, babe. I was just surprised.”

“Oh okay, cool.” You decide to take her words for facts, panicking over potentially looking like a clownish try-hard is not what you need.

“So... A date? You little cachotière*.” Here, the nerves hit. You have been nothing but excited since the text conversation you had with Jungkook the night before but now, merely an hour before he’s supposed to be home, you begin freaking out.

It’s Eun and her overuse of the “d-word”. Because it’s not like that. At all. If it becomes a date then you have to rightfully so freak the fuck out. Thanks to her, even if it's not one, you start losing it. In your state of panic, while you observe yourself liquify in the mirror -it’s quite interesting to watch, you having a crisis in real time-, blanching in utter destress, another scary thought assaults you.

Jungkook lives across the short hall from here. He and Jimin and you and Eun are so close and comfortable around each other, you basically share one giant apartment, allowing yourselves to just barge in no matter how inappropriate the moment is. The whole floor is a constant open house. The probability of having Eun find out that you’re in fact sleeping over to their's is so high, it’s almost prophetic.

Shit. She’s going to ask so many questions. And of course, she won’t believe you if you say you dressed yourself up to the nines just to go play games with Jungkook. She’d think there would be something else to it. And she’d be right. But she doesn’t need to know just yet. You were blessed enough the other night, that she drunk herself to sleep with Jimin, knocked herself out so bad she couldn’t remember anything past the cake cutting. Not that you have or want to preserve secrets from her. It’s not really secrets. “Secrets” sounds like you’d purposefully want to withhold information from her from lack of trust. It’s not like that. It’s just whatever Jungkook and you are doing is yours. There are a lot of things you two never consider sharing with other people just because they are your thing.You two share a private garden and no one will ever be invited to visit it.

“Who is it?”

“I- just- it’s a bit soon to-“

“You don’t wanna say yet. Ok, I get it.” She says it with geniune sympathy, yet her glossy lips puckered in a little pout. “Do I know him?”

“Uh- possibly.” Her eyes widen for a second before they’re looking up to the roof, searching her brain for the full list of your common acquaintances -she’s understanding and respectful but that doesn’t mean she's not eaten up by curiosity.

After a while, as you ponder over your own image and consider wiping your whole face off of the makeup to just go with something more like your everyday self, the one Jungkook knows better, Eun gives up on the investigation and redirects her attention back to you, “Is he handsome?”

You don’t know how to answer her and end up giving an incoherent babbling and spilling of squeaky sounds that can only describe it better than words would. She’s smiling a wolf grin, picking up a lipstick from her personal shelf before taking a makeup remover tissue to drag over your already painted mouth. She applies, meticulously, the new taint she’s chosen. It’s a deep red, very sultry that gives you the look of a sexy vampire or maybe a succubus.

She gets it. Jungkook's tending to observe you is not the only reason you've worked so hard on yourself. He is so deadly handsome. You always knew but not felt it arouse anything within you. You saw him as that little brother of yours who’s grown so much into a very charming, universally attractive boy. But that night, with his hair -you’d never, in more than a decade of being his friend, seen his forehead and you’re oh-so glad you did not because horny-high-school-you would probably have freaked about it, who would think that eyebrows could do so much to someone's face- pulled back and his leather jacket, quirking his eyebrow and biting his lip and leaning around like he was some kind of James Dean. You don’t know how responsible are the orgasms -surely, they can have an impact on your perception-, or your thirst, but you’ve decided, observing him more attentively since that night, that he was one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. Truly.

Also you can’t actively name who would be standing right next to him on the podium but that’s just a detail. A detail you won’t share with him more than you did last time because you don’t want his ego to inflate and explode right in your face. It wouldn’t be pretty nor pleasing. He's cocky enough already as it it.

Anyway, you just want to look beautiful because he, himself, is so much so. 

“I hope you’re aiming to get laid because with this magic...” Eun leaves the sentence pending, her sharp eyebrows high over her protruding eyes conclude it. You can’t control the widely telling grin drawing itself on your mouth.

“You’re gonna need a lot of convincing.” It’s the first thing he said as he saw you walked in through the cracked open door. You’d just sneaked your way through the whole length of their apartment, trying to not get caught by Jimin while having a mini attack because said Jimin was sitting right there, in the living room you had to pass by. He had headphones on and was so engrossed in whatever he was doing on his cellphone that he didn’t even notice you, staring at him like a deer caught in headlight, not even flinching when in your panic to run from the scene while luck was still on your side, you had knocked down a craft bag full of noisy ramen boxes. You hadn’t even picked it up, just rushing to the end of the hallway for Jungkook’s bedroom.

You don’t know what you look like right now. You feel awkward and dishevelled and quite exposed, standing in front of him in your fancy outfit while he’s in his pyjamas, looking up at you from the bed, with an unimpressed expression masking his face.

“You know I arrived 2 hours ago, right?” He is not genuinely upset, you can tell. But there’s a little edge to his tone. An honest curiosity. And maybe a relief. Maybe he thought you had changed your mind and hadn’t bothered letting him know about it.

“Yes, sorry. Mom called.” You say it with a bratty roll of your eyes as if you’re not left warm and fuzzy each time you hang up a phone call with her.

She’s lovely. You miss her often but not to the point of actually wanting her around -she’d pester and nag the life out of you if she were to see the state of your room and just the general way you chose to do things. And she talks so much. She has so much to say every time she picks up the phone to ring you. Everything about her and about your dad and the rest of the family and the rest of the neighbourhood and what the mayor has been up too and what her colleagues at work have been discussing about these days. It goes on and on and on and you understand that it comes from a place of her missing you dearly but when most of the times it is okay and a fairly entertaining way of wasting two hours doing nothing, you couldn’t care less about whatever the hell was going to be replacing the shop next to your uncle’s when the stupid story is delaying the event of tonight. But how could you tell her that? So you sat on the barstool, your forehead pressed onto your handbag (that you didn’t need but you were supposed to go out on a date so that fit better the narrative), shoe-clad feet bouncing nervously in the air, half-listening, half-dreading, humming noncommittal monosyllabic words into the phone, as Eun watched you from the sofa, staring with a beyond confused, low-key judgmental gaze, miming with all her body how you should hang up and head out. And that’s how you arrived two hours late when you meant to be in his bedroom before he even came back from the station.

You shrug, grimacing in a form of apology. But Jungkook knows your mom like his own and doesn’t hold you accountable for the lateness anymore, his face being recovered by a soft layer of fondness at the mention of her. “She said to tell you she thinks about you a lot and misses you. And to give you kisses too.” He chuckles at that and you match him, amused by the double meaning you now give to the term. You used to almost fear those innocent kisses -more subconsciously than not, it just wouldn’t come about, none of you needing to express your affection like that- and look at you now. About to get screwed by him. For the second time.

He is staring up at you with an intensity, you don’t want to get ahead of yourself and assume what it means but it is here. And you can't help but stare back, hoping to not show too much how bad you want to jump on him right now. Lain in bed like that, back pressed against his headboard, with a half unbuttoned white silky-like shirt, and his expression and his demeanour, you can see that under the cover his legs are taut and slightly parted: he looks like he’s expecting something. You. He’s been expecting you and you’re finally here and he’s tantalizing you with the meal he knows you want to consume. Tantalizing because no matter how sure you are that his expression means he still is on board and wants you, he doesn’t look willing to make a move. “So, as I was saying: a lot more convincing will be needed.”

“Well, I’m here already. Doesn’t that tell you I- like- want it?”

“Sure. But still it’s late and I’ve been travelling all evening and I’m so tired.” He feigns a yawn. “As you can see, I was going to sleep.” What an annoying little shit. He makes his eyes all big and sorry-looking, putting his mouth in a pout like he’s saddened. But you see the quirks of his stupid eyebrows. He has the “bullshit face”. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Whenever he has it on, and he has very little control over it by the way, you know he’s in for some bullshitting. Either it shows when he wants to get away with something he’s done or doesn’t want to admit it out loud, or he’s straight on wanting to mess with you. He has had that stupid face since he was fourteen and he pretended in that one conversation about porn and sexism that he shared the same opinion as you and yes, lesbian porn for male was wrong and disgusting. He didn’t believe a word of it, and this not because he was a big fan of the genre but because he wasn’t a big consumer of porn in general -which you didn’t know at the time. You just knew that he was lying because his face contorted in a way it never did before and that was suspicious as hell.

So here comes the bullshit face and you already know why. You’re in for some torture. Jungkook and his stupid competitive ass. While he doesn’t like competing in 'real' life with other people because he doesn’t like to win over them, he has no problem with you. He loves to make your life harder. He balances it out by being the best friend you've ever had but still, so aggravating.

“Guk, seriously, don’t be mean. I already made the first step the other day!”

“And then you avoided me for a week.” He says, totally unfazed.

“It wasn’t even a week.” You’re the one scowling now. Mumbling through button-shaped lips. “Seriously, I can’t do this...” There’s a flash of alarm blinking for a second on his face as he straightens up in his bed, the cover slipping completely from his torso, exposing all the golden skin peeking from the open shirt.

“Do what?”

“‘Convince you’. I can’t- like- seduce you or whatever.” You grumble like an upset kid and that’s pretty much what you feel like. It’s like your favourite toy, the one you’ve been wanting for many Christmas is just right here, within reach, but you won’t have it because you’re required to resolve an impossible math problem or something. It’s too hard. You already feel yourself burning from embarrassment, your heart is thumping in your temple and you just decide to give up, taking a few tentative steps backward, hand already reaching out for the handle when Jungkook jumps off of his bed to grab it. Standing so tall and broad, hovering you, his warm hand holding yours and the breeze of his perfume hitting your nostrils, you’re taken by a rush of excitation. It’s crazy what the context does to perception. He stood that way in front of you so many times but never have you felt so small, never have you found him so big and attractive because of it and that scent, you’ve smelled basically all your life -a soft flowery carress-, never made your head spin that way.

“Don’t leave!” His voice is a bit loud, almost desperate and the thought that he might be makes you smile internally. “Lemme help you.” He demands so gently, with the stars in his eyes as fervent supporters to his cause, there’s no way you’d say no. He could ask you anything when he’s looking and talking to you like that, with his warm hand now pressed to your neck, thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod your head once and he kisses you. As softly as he is, your hands clutch at his shirt way too intensely to match. He’s so gentle like you’re a tiny little thing he’s dreading at the idea to scare away. So different from the kisses you remember him giving you the other night. It’s lovely anyway. Tender as can be. Delicate and kind and when he pulls back to look into your eyes again, your heart warms up with all the love and adoration you have for this man. He really is your best friend, the most important person in your life that you had chosen and he makes you so happy.

“Is it okay?” He whispers so sweetly you want to wrap your arms around his neck and suffocate him with love. You nod again this time more dismissively because a scent in his breath has just interpellated you.

“Have you been drinking?”

He smiles cheekily, dipping his head down in guilt. “I had a shot or two.” You relish in the shameful tremble of his confession.

There’s this complimentary thing about you two. One would often compensate for the other's lacking. It’s never been conscious or anything but it’s always been there. You see the way he gulps visibly, you recognize the tiny blush of his cheeks sauntering to his ears, you know why he had those shots, and you feel the rush of confidence run through your veins because he is so nervous, you can see it now. Therefore, you have to tease. It’s only fair.

“You were not this nervous by text, were you?”

“Stop saying that, I’m not nervous!” He exclaims with passion but you both know he’s lying and it makes you laugh right in his face, uncaring of his pinching your cheek to make you stop. He’s just too cute and dumb.

“Keep that up and I really won’t be nice to you.”

Even if the grin remains on your face, you shudder from head to toes. His tone has dropped to a lower purr, his gaze is dark with a gravity that wasn’t there before. That's funny because it really feels like a deja-vu. Last time unrolled so similarly and you know what is supposed to happen now.

“You always say that.” He doesn’t say anything, keeps staring, engaging in an eye staring contest, daring you to not drop your own. “You threaten me but you never act on it.” You say quietly. You don’t know what comes over you, probably just the heat of the moment, but you regret almost instantly to be so reckless. You don’t want him to be merciless with you. You had a taste of him being fairly nice the other night and almost died. You’re terrified of him being mean. But here you are tempting him into doing just that.

Perhaps he, who knows you the best, reads you again like a book he’s written himself and he settles for being soft and lenient with you. He leans in to smash his lips to yours, now wet and demanding, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth before you even get to close your eyes. His hands holding your head firmly, his hips leaning forward making his thighs dig into you, his tongue greets for the briefest of moment your own, sending a direct message to your centre which you can feel clench around nothing. But before you can gather back your thoughts and try and meet him and work his mouth too instead of just letting him devour you, he’s let you go. All grip on you, any proximity allowing you to feel his warmth are gone. He’s so far the only thing that's still been linking you, the thin strip of saliva joining your mouths, snaps. You’re cold outside yet burning inside, heart erratically pumping in your chest, feeling dumb and confused and abused and revolted, because why would he already stop? Especially to step back and look at you like he’s decided he now wanted to be mean.

“I’ve helped you enough. Now it’s on you.” You gawk in silence, watching mindlessly as he proceeds on making his bed, laying the cover flat so he could hop back down on it.

“What does that mean?”

“Make me feel good. Remind me why I’m letting you have me when you’re being such a bitch.” You gasp at the choice of word. He’s never used it in front of you, not even in a joking manner -or maybe once or twice but he was talking about his roommate who happens to be one at times. Your astonishment is met with the greatest smirk. He’s having so much fun because he’s got the upper hand again. “Treat me better and I’ll be good to you when it’s your turn.”

And this is one of those moments you'd encountered so many times since you were a little girl. This instance where two options would be presented to you and you had to make a choice. An important one. One that you decided would define you and therefore, it needed to be the right one. Either you choose the easiest option, indulge in your fear of the unknown, turn into a coward, denying yourself what you really want because you’re scared. Or you carry your virtual balls, decide that even if you might fail, you will follow this terrifying path out of your comfort zone because you want the future you to be proud and thankful for you. Most of these times, you did not only think about you but also about the little boy with the bunny teeth and fluffy hair and big and soft wondering eyes which were always watching you, you couldn’t permit yourself to bend and plead because you wanted to inspire him to be strong and adventurous.

The boy's right there. Not so little anymore. Not needing any push nor any light to follow. But eyes still as big and soft, looking at you so expectantly, you recall those would never hurt you. You can face the shame. You can even face the embarrassment of not knowing what to do or try and end up doing wrong because it’s just Jungkook. He’d smile to heal your bruised ego and guide you gently the way he did before.

You step forward, carefully, as if he’s become the fragile being ready to fly away now. It's silly. The precaution is for you more than for him. Legs twitching slightly, eyes set on your every move, lips now hanging open as if he’s struggling to breathe, he doesn’t look whatsoever wanting to back away. He’s waiting for you. You slip your feet out of your shoes in a swift motion, before kneeling on the bed, one hand setting on his knee. You see his Adam's apple jump up and down and you wonder if he doesn’t wish he had downed more than two shots. He keeps switching from a nervous wreck to a hot “alpha” dude and you don’t understand how you're supposed to deal with that.

When you look down, pondering over your next move, you notice the blue shorts he has on. You know them for you’ve seen him wearing them multiple times before. They’re meant to be rather loose. At least you thought they were. But as you gawp at them, you’re struck by how tight they look on his legs. They end way higher than they should because of his position, his thighs filling them up to the point of straining -if he keeps them for too long you’re sure he’ll have a thin indent along his skin. His thighs look so meaty and the part just before his knees, lacking fat rendering his monstrous muscles enhanced. You press your own legs on reflex. You had no idea a man's legs could be so attractive.

The glorious view finishes to urge you on. Trailing forward, your hands set on the object of your new obsession, fingers loving the warmth of his skin and dipping in the flesh. He feels wonderful under your touch.

Would he let you bite them a bit? Maybe if you ask nicely, he will. You shake the thought off. It’s not the plan right now. You don’t even know if he’d like that and you’re supposed to please him.

You raise yourself from the bed, keeping your balance thanks to the grip you have on his thighs and get even closer to take a seat on the left one. Jungkook looks so handsome from up close. You’re met with his soft skin and pretty shades. There’s the rather deep scar he got on his cheek one of those times when you were fourteen and you were practising riding your bikes on the low stairs in front of the subway station. You remember how scary it was to have to entangle him from his fucked up bike with half of his face pissing blood. Terrifying. But it left him with this eternal scar, charming along with his boyish features, and memory of a not-so-pleasing moment but precious friendship. You love it even more because he lies each time he's asked about it, telling crazy stories that'd never happened, while sporting a cheeky smile only you understand. And there are his beauty marks scattered here and there like they’re playing a game of hide-and-seek. You find your favourite one hiding under his bottom lip, lean in to place a kiss on it.

When you back away his eyes are shut, his face so relaxed, he looks so peaceful and happy with this tiny curve of his pink lips -lips that you notice are smeared with a faint dark red you know to be the lipstick you're wearing-, you want to squeal from how grateful you are to have him like that.

Jungkook scrapes his throat when he opens his eyes again, shifting a bit under you as if to get more comfortable and you’re reminded that he’s waiting. He’s been waiting patiently and your clit from down here pulses as to remind you that you also need something.

So you start moving. Hands pressed to his shoulders, loving how sturdy and big he feels under you, you grind languidly along his thigh. You feel it building already. You've lost the manner, the way to do this for it to be nice, but it's so hot: he is, his breath on your lips is, the room, everything is. Soon the intense gaze you’re sharing with him is broken as his head falls backward, all teeth out from how amused he is. You don’t stop moving, no matter how confusing his reaction is, because the contact on your clit feels incredible. It shoots a succesion of electric shocks through you, blanking your mind momentarily each time, there’s no way you’re stopping because he wants to make fun of you again. 

“So I tell you to please me and that’s what you come up with?” He asks once his fit of chuckles have quiet down. 

Breathlessly, you counter, “You said you liked that.” You’re not offended about his change of mood. You couldn’t care less. Not when you’ve figured out exactly how to move your hips to treat your cunt, when the motion has come so easy to perform you can now speed up comfortably. 

“I do but when you’re done, you’ll have to try harder than that.” You nod, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. He takes hold of your hips. He’s not guiding, just letting his hands there as to feel you, encourage you. “For now, just make yourself come, babe.” Your eyes open again on his, the latter having a lot to say. You read them outright. He wonders if it’s ok to call you that. He apologizes every time he does it by accident so it feels a bit weird, unfamiliar. But the pet name, for some reasons you don’t care to elucidate, renders you all putty and giddy. He can probably feel it in the way you melt even more in his embrace, looking up at him with large eager eyes. 

“I promise I’ll do better after.” It slips out of your mouth straight from your hazy heart and Jungkook catches it with eagerness. You sound so tiny and lenient. Almost pitiful. 

“You’re doing great, baby.” He assures you right away, kissing your jaw with way more tongue than lips. “You’re so sexy.” You moan over him, from the pleasure building, the wetness on your skin, the praise, the name. Your fingers slip under the open folds of his shirt, too lazy and incompetent to unfasten the buttons, but so eager to grant your eyes with the glorious vision of his thick chest, they drag the tissue down as much as it’d go, not caring the least about how the stretch might hurt the skin around his neck. “Are you close?”

“Yes.” You moan in his ear. His hands on your covered hips glide along your thighs to sneak under the skirt of your dress and grab the flesh the find there. 

“You know one thing that I would really like you doing for me?” His voice, texture of honey, meets the crook of your neck and coats your heart in a thick, warmth layer.

“Tell me.” You pant in his face without an once of embarrassment left. You’re rutting like a horny bitch on his thigh, begging him to tell you how you could please him. How he brought you there, how he is doing all this is beyond your comprehension but you're loving every aspects of it.

“I'd really like you to cover my cock with the pretty lipstick you have on.”

Your lips press against one another. May Eun be blessed.

“I’d love that.” His tongue is at your collarbone for a devilishly short instant. “'Will show me how desperate you are for it.”

“Ok, I will.” He smiles to you, from his bunny smile to his glittering eyes. “Can you kiss me? Like ear-earlier?” His mouth is on yours before you get the question fully out. You moan into him, finding out this is the tiny push you needed. As he licks and sucks, his fingers digging deeper in your thighs, you get off both from the friction and his kiss. You’re almost there. You can feel the heat spreading. You sneak one of your hand down his chest to his crotch to get a grasp of his cock. It’s so hard and so hot under your palm. So hot and wet in your mouth. And you are coming undone, hips snapping on his leg, eyes shut and lips open only to leave out a small, broken whine. The pressure against your clit feels a bit too intense, a bit raw and makes you jerk and wince, until Jungkook wraps his arms around you and welcomes you into his chest, kissing the top of your head while whispering something you don’t really catch through the ringing in your ear.

It’s decided. If he’s ok with it you’ll come back to his bed for all your sexual needs. Rubbing yourself on a pillow never felt that good and he hasn’t done much to you, just being there and turning you on in a way that shouldn't be allowed. When you withdraw from his lap, you’re cringing visibly from the sensitivity, movements slow and careful, face contorted. Jungkook is watching you with undisguised enjoyement, a grin biting on his lower lip. 

“So I gather you like thigh riding too, now?” You shrug, red in the cheeks, avoiding his gaze. He doesn’t comment further. He just sits there, the tips of his fingers grazing mindlessly the thigh you just rode. The other set of fingers toying with the hem of his dishevelled shirt. You watch him from under your lashes, not ready to meet his eyes just yet, resulting in you having to face the prominent bulge of his crotch. The moment lasts for an eternity. All you can think about is why he won’t give it to you already. “If there’s something that you want, you should know how to ask for it.”

Aggravation is heavy on your temples. You take the time to think about it and quite frankly you don’t have it in you to start arguing for something you both know that you both want. You’re not that petty. He can have his stupid win if he wants. 

“Strip already so I can- suckyouoff.” How is it so difficult to say out loud? You’ve never thought yourself to be that prude but here you are, having to say the words, and you realize you’re so unfamiliar with them if not for the erotic novels you used to read back in high school. While he, on the other hand, says all those obscenities with such perfect phlegm.

His slender fingers raise to his shirt, toying with the first button and after an excruciatingly long time which tastes of pure torture, they unfasten it. They aim for the next one but just stop there. You’re boiling, shaking, this close to jump on him and rip it off already. Decency and, to a bigger extent, pride keep you from doing so. He would like this too much.

“That won’t do, ___.” You can't help the long sigh that escapes you.

“Remember what I said? Convince me.” He says again, stressing the syllables as to make sure you get them right this time. He's pushing you so far. Too far. You don't get why he would challenge you this much. He was gentler the other night, more complaisant. Maybe it turns him on. Maybe he's not a total dick and actually likes to be worshipped rather than simply enjoying your misery. You do want to please him. Therefore, with a trembling voice, breath shorten by timidity, you pronounce aloud the words you mean but hurt to admit.

“Can I please have your cock?” Those are the magic words. In a blink of the eyes, his shirt is thrown away, one of his hand sets on his crotch, massaging it softly while the other reach for you, open palm welcoming you forward. You fit yours in it, Jungkook presses the inside of your fingers to his mouth before he drags you to him. Once you've kneeled in between his opened legs, your hand slip from his. You look up, gnawing on your lip. “Can you like- guide me through it?”

“You've never given head before?”

“I did but- I don't know. I want it to be good.” He smiles wide. That big, big grin that shows off both his up and down lines of teeth, with his dumb nose all scrunched up.

He nods, observing you quietly. And you reach for the waistband of his shorts. You mean to just drag it down to his thighs but he takes upon himself to strip completely out of it. You have no idea how he does that, standing fully naked there, in front of you -who's still fully clothed, by the way. You're not complaining; when he's looking this good, it makes it rather understandable. He looks perfect. Perfect but not in a linear, boring way. In a shockingly stunning way.

You've never had the full experience. You had the massive thighs, the broad shoulders and lean chest, his pretty face and opulent fluffy hair on top of it. But all put together, he's a deadly piece of art. Hypnotizing. Shaped like an Adonis. He looks so handsome. Gorgeous.

And of fucking course, as any piece of art, not a detail is left neglected. He's this remarkable to his very sex.

It's so fucking ridiculous. And unfair.

Quick before letting yourself the time to look at it for too long and get intimidated, you wrap your hand around it. Fairly long and lean, fair with a blushy tip. So soft and warm and hard in your hand. Such a pretty cock. The thought plagues your mind but you're smart enough to not say it aloud. It's one of the weirdest thought you've ever had, you realize.

It's true though. So true. So pretty it just pulls you in.

You kiss the head a few times, slowly, before you slide to the length. Walking your way up with your tongue, you hear him hiss aloud, see his abs contracting in spasms.

The tip of his cock is so tender. Flushed, silky and soaked, tasting and feeling so nice on your tongue, on your lips. Your eyes meet his. You're just curious to see how sweet his face looks when he's letting out all those tiny whimpers. You see him grimace, frown before he closes his eyes shut and throw his head back, blocking entirely the view you're giving him and you're wondering if you're doing this right. He's not giving you any guidance like he said he would. He's not that loud, quite quiet even, if you consider how talkative he was the other night. He's not bucking his hips uncontrollably in your wet heat like you remember your ex, Taehyung, used to do.

As you suckle on the head, dipping the tip of your tongue in the slit, your left hand holding him firmly upward while the right one, curiously tests its way down, caressing his balls. There's a switch hidden there apparently. Each time the tip of your fingers dip there, he leaves out a languid groan.

“You're not telling me what to do.” You complain between two deep inhale, raising up. Your lips feel hot, tingly, and you imagine them swollen and red. You imagine it's the reason why he's staring at them the way he is.

“I don't need to tell you anything. You're- You're doing perfect.” It makes you roll your eyes. His voice is tensed, his words stuttered but he might be faking it. He's not even cursing or anything. His hands not gripping your hair. Awfully disappointing. Perfect in your mouth but disappointing around you. Even more so, when he stops you from leaning to work your mouth on him again. “You wanna give me more?” You stare silently, not having a clue of where a yes would take you. “Wanna try to ride me?”

It’s the best sensation you’ve ever felt. Sitting on his chest like it's your throne, having him look up at you with the giant marbles he has for eyes, enchanted and eager. “Should I eat you out first?” You’re soaked. You’ve been feeling yourself drip since you tasted for the first time a drop of his precum, you don’t need to be eaten out. You know what’s to come. You’re about to have him fill you up again. After all this time craving for it, dreaming day and night about it. You wouldn’t want to delay it any longer.

When Jungkook gets busy grabbing a condom from the nightstand, you take the opportunity to throw your dress over your head. You’re not sure why he hasn’t hinted at taking it off yet. His wandering hands have been teasing the skin under it non stop but he’s never tried to actually take it off.  

“Jungkook, why not take my dress off?”

He looks up from the wrapper he’s been struggling with, confusion shining in his eyes. His mouth opens, about ready to answer but he catches sight of your form, naked except for the delicate black lace lingerie you carefully picked. He’s never seen you naked with proper lightening, nor any close to this state of undressing as the last time he’s seen you in a bikini, well, you can't remember but it was probably in late middle school. He seems to like it. It’s the special gaze again. The one of a lover. The ardent one, dark, almost teary as his hands graze up your sides so lightly it leaves a painful scorching along the skin. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You mean to hit his chest to chastise his over-exaggerated gravity but you can’t deny his sincerity and your hand simply lands flabbily instead. “Can I keep my, uh, underwear?” He just nods, doesn’t get cocky or mocking, eyes still bathing in your appearance, and a crazy thought occurs. Could it be possible that he sees you the same way you see him?

You don’t like to talk in leagues. It’s ridiculous and pointless and for the most part inaccurate. You know your worth. You’re a good person with a lot to offer, fairly pretty on a good day, with some flaws, of course, but nothing that outrageous, just like most people. But Jungkook is quite, he’s quite phenomenal. Friendship put aside, you can see how much of a surreal deal he is. And physically -even though it doesn't usually matter to you but since it’s about sleeping together for the sake of sex rather than feelings, it kind of does matter here-, he’s beyond anything you have ever seen, in real life or on a screen. He’s something else. Something else from another world. A perfect dream of a perfect sculptor brought to life. And he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know that, like he can’t see that and he believes it’s you the piece of art.

“Sure. You’re- It looks so pretty on you.” His voice has lost some of the heavy tension from before. He's smoothing the tissue under his fingers, studying the quiet intricacies in the pattern.

“Thanks. I just bought it.” His dark orbs snap up.

“For me?” You could lie. You could and he would never know about it but you want to tell him the truth. You nod. Shrugging slightly to pretend casualty. Kindly, he whispers, “Thank you, babe. I love it.”

Maybe it's the timid blush on your cheeks that manages to change his heart. Either way, it’s like he finally thinks you’ve done enough and don’t deserve to be waiting any longer. However, now it’s your turn to delay the action a bit. Placing your hand on his just wrapped firmly around his cock, you prevent him from covering it up just yet. There’s still precum shinning at the slit, and the head looks so sweet, you just need to know if it’d feel as good against your clit as it did on your tongue. It does. It’s soft and sleek, warm, it toys so pleasingly with your button and the visual, the visual is sinful. The cherry on top is the expression you catch on his face when you look up. Jungkook is as mesmerized as you are by the sight.

“I want you now, Guk.” It takes him a good five seconds during which he gauges your gaze. You’re not sure what he meant to find there. Doubt maybe? Disappointment? Probably. Disappointment matching his own for he seems to drag on the moment he separates your two sexes to proceed on slipping the condom on. You feel it too. The almost dread. There’s a vivid image of him jerking himself off against your clit that blinks furiously behind your eyelids. Fuck. It doesn’t help to see him tug at his cock and manipulate it between those beautiful veiny hands of his.

“Up.” You obey forthwith, pushing on your knees to let him place the tip just under you. His free hand push the crotch of your panties to the side, managing to sneak a couple of fingers between your lips. It makes him smile when he sees you unwittingly bucking your hips forward. “You control it all, ok? It’s like for my thigh, you just do what feels good to you, yeah?”

You nod. The rational part of your brain is freaking out but the greedy glutton that is the other side jumps on the occasion. Literally. In one swift motion, you've downed yourself completely on him, taking his cock entirely in, you’re almost positive you can feel him in your womb. It has him gasp loudly, cursing under his breath as his hands fly to your hips to squeeze them meanly. You don’t know if it’s a manifestation of a brusque and unexpected rush of pleasure or if you’ve hurt him as much as you hurt yourself. He should have done it. He’s the one that knows how to get you off. He gives you the power for five seconds and you manage to hurt the both of you with your incompetence and stupid hormones. It's not a good time to give up though. Not when he still has the steamiest kisses for your collarbones. You start rising up slowly this time, it’s decided you’re keeping it slow. It’s easier for you and brings you progressively to a more comfortable fit. Also as you take your time to free every inch and take them back in one by one, you get to feel him graze your walls. It’s a wonderful sensation. Being that filled up. Being on top of this man who’s still holding you like you’re holding his faith between your hands and he’s so willing to know what you’ll decide to do with it.

Lucky for him, you're feeling merciful. It’s hard not to when through the layers of sweat and crimson covering him into your lover, you still catch glimpses of your best friend. The cute little boy, forever the cure to your loneliness and adversities, the one person you would give up your whole life and its aspirations for. Even your family, you care so much about them, love them so dearly but you’re still marked by that time you had to come to the realization that your life was your own and you had to disappoint them by going against what they wanted for you just because it didn’t match your vision. But Jungkook, Jungkook could ask anything from you, anything and you’d give it to him. You’d give up on anything that’s ever meant something to you. Because he is everything. He's all the meaning your life owns. You’re not sure if it’s the right time but it’s there, sitting on his cock, riding him minutely that you feel a rush of utter love and adoration for the one friend that possesses your happiness since you were little. He's so sweet to have never withheld it from you but you know it depends on him. You could cry just meeting his pretty eyes looking back at you with as much fondness as your heart feels.

You’re getting too sappy, it’s ridiculous. You gather it comes from the pace, nice but not high enough to have you two focused entirely on the pleasure. Therefore you proceed to mix it up as much as your body would allow you. Switching the speed, the movements, rotating your hips instead of rising them, going back to jumping on it, just guiding yourself by his reactions, the quiet curses, the kneading of your flesh under his hands, the wincing of his features. He’s so hot. So sexy. You can’t keep your eyes off of him. You don’t even deliberately control your hips anymore. It’s just your body following closely Jungkook's advice. Doing whatever feels good.

“Guk, I’m close.” His eyes which had been closed for the past few minutes from the deep grinding of your hips against his pelvis suddenly shoot open. They’re not soft nor gentle anymore. All dark and intense again.

He grabs your face in his hand, the thumb digging in your left cheek as the rest of his fingers press the other one. Pressing his mouth hard to yours he asks, “Will you come for more?” He's harsh, voice severe as he doesn't speak but growl, sending an electric jolt to your spine. Soon the idea that there might be even more hidden wherever that Jungkook comes from is sending liquid fire to your cunt.

“Yes, yes, I will!” You gasp, blinking a tear down your cheek. He notices it and let his grip on your face to wipe it away. You’re about to come. You’re so fucking close. You can tell the ball of your orgasm has reached its maximum size, it just needs something, one little something to burst and annihilate everything else. “Why?” His hand is back to the side of your face, not rigid like before instead warmly cupping it. Eyes searching for yours, he presses, “Why is that? Baby, tell me please.”

“Cause you’re so goo-uh”

“Me or my cock?” He chuckles against your hair and you wonder how the fuck he has enough brains left to make jokes, when he’s that deep inside of you and must be, has to be, as close as you are.

“B-both” That makes him laugh again, that same mean chortle.

“Yes,” He’s moaning it so languidly. He relishes in the idea. “Shit- come here.” Jungkook presses down on your lower back, you follow leniently, like clay in his hands, laying entirely on top of him. He helps you raise your ass up higher and once you meet the perfect position to take it, he starts thrusting upward hard, slowly but brutally, each time you can hear the loup clap of his hips against your skin, you’re pretty sure it’s going to hurt tomorrow but for now, it feels fabulous.

It’s so rough and it feels like you’ve been going at it forever. The girth is dragging the ring of your hole along with the movement and that stimulation alone is electrifying. You’re almost there.

“Tell me- talk to me,” Desperation is laced closely to his tone now. It fits him so well, you're loving it. “Tell me y-you’ll come back to me for m-more, please.” He’s losing it, you can hear it in his tremble, his cute stutter. And the grunts he’s leaving between each needy word sound animalistic.

“I will, Jungkook.” It comes out before you even get to think the confession over. But as it does, you realize you mean them entirely. “I’ll always come back, you just, ah, you fuck me so well. So fucking good, your big cock always-” A particularly strong thrust, resembling more of a spasm, pushes a new tear down your cheek. “fills me up so good, you- no one has ever-“

“Fuck. No one has ever what?”

“Fucked me this good, shit.” Shockingly enough it’s your own words, filterless, genuine and born from the fabulous heat of this moment, that suffice to push your orgasm to the edge and make it explode and invade your whole being, body and mind. You don’t even take notice when Jungkook ends up coming, blinded and rendered deaf by your own pleasure.

It's when your erratic heart starts to calm down, and your muscles to relax, melting calmly into Jungkook’s body who’s welcoming you so kindly, not complaining about the heat or the weight or the stickiness, you gather he came too.

It’s incredible this sensation. Not that you’re proud of it but being taken over by pleasure so much so to render you selfish and clueless of your every surrounding, even your lover, it’s never happened before. You wonder if that’s not the precise reason why none of your before-Jungkook orgasms can compare.

As you land back safely on his chest, you're only granted a few minutes with his agitated heart beating under your cheek and his comforting warmth before your surroundings reappear to you, obnoxiously reminding themselves to existence. “Oh my god, Jimin!” You whisper yell in a theatrical gasp. It just makes Jungkook laugh. This moron.

“S’fine, he has Eun to discuss it with.” You raise up, fighting the fatigue, just to glare at him. It's the same stupid argument as last time. Except this time, it's so fucking worse. You still don't get how casual he can be about this. “I don’t care. Do you?”

a/n : Phew. That was a big chunk. If you made it this far, i thank you immensely. I’m sorry if the editing is a bit off, i’ve been looking at this piece of work for too long and my head is torturing me so yea, soz. What did you think? Tell me all your thoughts!! There’s still one chapter to go (but i don’t know when it’ll be up - i have other little spooky projects to attend to, i hope you guys don’t mind). ANYWAY. A beautiful week-end to you guys, kisses, love & 🍗🍜. :)

tag list : @lavscenery @busansgloss @batakookie @jwlmnbt @somewhereinthestarss @amanda-deann @feminist-goddess

#ksmutclub #gukkienet #btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #my writing

[stellar-alley]

Everfalls

•Chapter 16•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram! Also shout out to my Beta super.rose.cosplays!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

(Summary: The two ancestors are going through some pre moon jitters and Bill makes a couple rash decisions.)

~

“Ready for tomorrow?” Richie asked Eddie first thing Thursday morning.

Eddie tilted his head, “Me? Rich, I've been doing these things for years. Are you ready?” he tapped Richie’s chest with his index finger.

“Meh, not really but S O C K S” Richie shrugged.

“Socks?” Eddie repeated in confusion.

Richie chuckled, “Eso si que es, S O C K S. In spanish it basically means ‘It is what it is’” he informed the shorter boy.

“It is what it is” Eddie nodded in agreement. Then he scrunched his face up, “No but seriously, we need to make sure we get home in time or else we’ll-”.

“Be fine, we’ll get home and shift in peace.” Richie assured Eddie.

Eddie couldn’t help but notice the way Richie’s foot tapped rapidly against the pavement or how his hands kept moving, but he brushed it aside. Every Ancestor gets more energy around the full moon, a little more wild. Eddie looked down at his own calm posture, sure he felt a little more alive, but he’s just had more time to get used to it.

~

“What’s up?” Eddie’s voice filled with urgency the moment he stepped out of class, phone pressed to his ear.

He had been in the middle of Math class when his phone began violently vibrating from where it laid in his pocket. Eddie glanced at it then shot Stanley a worried glance, he mouthed ‘Richie’ before requesting to go to the bathroom.

“Eddie, I-I fucked up. Please… I can’t hold it in any more” Richie groaned.

“Where are you? Just meet me in the bathroom where you took me, alright?” Eddie instructed as he started to make his way there. “Rich? Baby answer me” Eddie demanded.

“Here” Richie whispered weakly.

“Fuck- Where are you?”

~

Eddie burst out of the back doors, practically leaped over the stairs and kept moving the moment his feet landed. It was a particularly cool day for May, the wind whipped through his hair as he ran to Richie’s location.

The wolf was leaned up against one of the trees on the outskirts of the school’s property. His eyes were yellow, his clawed fingers dug trenches into the dirt from where they laid, his beanie sat on the ground beside him and his head was leaned back against the tree.

“What the hell happened?” Were the first words out of Eddie’s mouth. His eyes scanned their surroundings to make sure there was no one in eye or ear shot.

“I was just- AH” Richie jerked upwards as he tried to hold in any loud noises he might make.

Eddie moved from his squatting position to leaning forward on his knees. He held his hands out on either side of Richie’s face, carefully cupping his cheeks. Eddie closed his eyes to focus on the power that flowed from him into Richie.

When Richie’s claws retracted and his eyes reverted back to brown, he let his hands wander up to lay on top of Eddie’s. That bit of confirmation prompted Eddie to lean in closer and rest his forehead on Richie’s.

“Thanks” Richie whispered.

“W-What happened?” Eddie’s voice shook, drained from using so much power. His knees shook as he leaned away from Richie and sat on his heels.

“I was in art. And- and I couldn’t sit still. I was painting and my damn leg wouldn’t stop shaking.” Richie grimaced at the thought, then he piped up as if he remembered something that’d been forgotten, “And I fucked up my art piece cause my hand was all shaky. It got to me, all of it. School, the trip, Bill, the full moon…” Richie’s voice drifted off, his leg began shaking.

Eddie stayed silent for a beat, when he finally spoke his voice was small. “I might know something that can help.” Eddie’s eyes drifted up to meet Richie’s, which were yellow again. They flickered between Eddie and his hands that were slowly shaking.

Eddie snatched Richie’s beanie off the ground, tapped Richie’s shoulder “tag” he said with a wink, as if it was a challenge. The bunny jumped to his feet and ran in the opposite direction, away from the wolf. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard Richie’s feet pound the ground behind him. There was a path in front of them but Eddie decided to make a sharp turn and continue in the forest. He ran past trees and rocks, they passed in a blur as he picked up the pace. Eddie’s eyes turned blue when he hit an inhuman speed.

Richie laughed maniacally as he chased Eddie through the forest. He leaped over branches and roots in hopes of keeping up with Eddie who had the upper hand with more of a control over his powers. But Richie was a day away from his first full moon, so he was packed with a lot more energy than either of them realized. Richie didn’t have to use his Anesetrial abilities until Eddie leaped over a small stream, that’s when Richie kicked it into full gear, he gained some momentum before jumping over the running water.

He landed with a thud and almost lost his balance. Richie wobbled and looked around, unsure of where Eddie went within the moment that he was distracted. The wolf closed his eyes, listening closely for the familiar sound of Eddie’s heartbeat that he’d memorized like a song. Every thud and beat like the rhythm to a new hit single that always brightened his mood. Richie smirked when the sound of Eddie’s deep breathing came into range.

Eddie heard Richie leap and almost stumble, so he used it to his advantage. He hid behind one of the bigger bushes in his area. Some time passed and Eddie didn’t hear Richie approaching, so he poked his head out to scan his surroundings.

“What are we looking for?” Richie whispered from behind him.

Eddie shrieked and stumbled forwards, he practically jumped out of his skin. His heart hammered inside of his chest at the sight of the boy who couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Oh my god! You should’ve seen your face! Priceless!” The taller boy snorted.

“Yeah, hilarious, hysterical.” Eddie scoffed, trying to catch his breath. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest with a certain level of sass.

Once Richie stopped laughing and caught his breath, he looked over at Eddie, “Come on! It was kinda funny.” He reasoned as he took a step closer

“Not when you’re the one who alomst shit his fucking pants” Eddie pouted, his hands subconsiouly traveled up to fiddle with his compass.

Eddie didn’t need to look up to know Richie was giving him his iconic puppy dog eyes. He placed his hands on Eddie’s and held them lightly, “Oh my- Pwease fowgive me.” Richie said in a baby voice.

Finally Eddie’s ice blue eyes rose to meet Richie’s bright yellow ones. “God, you’re such a child,” he rolled his eyes when a drop of water splattered on his cheek. Eddie slipped his hand out from Richie’s and felt his now wet skin as another drop hit his forehead.

Richie followed suit, but instead he used his thumb to wipe away the raindrop off of Eddie’s cheek. He felt the skin beneath his heat up at the contact.

The rain picked up fairly quickly, going from a light drizzle to a heavy downpour.

The taller boy looked down at his shorter counterpart and smiled, the water running down his face and matting bits of his hair to his head.

Eddie pulled something out of his pocket, stood on his tippy toes and put Richie’s beanie up over the wolf’s head. His heart beat faster and faster as he realized how close they had gotten. Eddie’s hands lowered from where they had put Richie’s beanie on to sit comfortably on Richie’s shoulders. From there he pulled Richie down to meet him in the middle and their lips met.

Richie pulled away “What? Are we in some cheesy Disney rom com?”.

Eddie sighed, but his voice held no annoyance, “Oh shut up trashmouth.” And he pulled his boyfriend down to kiss him again. They moved slowly and in sync, all of their extra energy had been burned off so they were able to absorb the moment and let it last until they broke away to catch their breaths, but only for a moment before they went back in.

~

That night Eddie was having trouble sleeping, every little creak and crack had him up and checking the windows and doors. The almost full moon loomed overhead in a mocking manner to which Eddie groaned and threw it the bird. But it was the sound of something pounding against a wall that brought Eddie down to the main floor. He peaked out from behind the curtains in the main entrance and gasped at what he saw.

Bill Denbrough stood in front of his slightly visible forcefield, which was what was emitting the constant pounding sound, it matched the way Bill pounded his fist against the transparent bubble protecting the house.

The house was practically emitting an uneasy vibe which Eddie picked up on immediately. After being in the house of magic for so long, he was bound to have absorbed some of the power, which was why he sometimes felt the presence of another being when he was supposed to be home alone.

“Don’t open up, I repeat do not.” Eddie commanded whatever spirit controlled the forcefield. He gave Bill one more glance before he stormed out of the front area and into the kitchen and out the back door.

~

“Eddie I-I know you’re in the-there!” Bill shouted into the dark night.

After another day with no further luck in uncovering the secrets behind his father's death, Bill decided to take things into his own hands and go to Eddie himself.

It might’ve taken him a while to retrace his steps but soon he found the familiar clearing that he’d seen in his dreams, but this time he actually went up to the place where Eddie disappeared. He found that something was there, he couldn’t see it but he could feel it, a barrier that separated him from wherever Eddie was.

Bill was preoccupied with calling out to Eddie and slamming his fists into whatever barrier was between them. He didn’t even catch the white rabbit that rounded the corner behind him, nor did he notice Eddie appear in place of said rabbit.

Once Eddie was himself again, he stood tall behind Bill and called out to him, “What do you want Bill?”.

Bill’s human heart stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. He whipped around, nearly gasped at the sight. With wide eyes he stared at the teen who stood before him.

Suddenly all of the human’s bravery dissipated, leaving him speechless, “E-Eddie what the-”

But Eddie stood his ground, he was done with worrying about Bill and his bullshit, “What. Do. You. Want” He repeated himself, pronouncing each word individually as he took another step forward.

Somewhere in the distance lightning struck, it illuminated the night sky around them. The sudden burst of light caused Eddie to look like a silhouette for a moment, everything went dark aside from his glowing blue eyes, causing Bill’s stomach to twist at the haunting figure. The wind proceeded to pick up, whipping through the boy’s hair and stealing the air from Bill’s lungs. He gasped helplessly and coughed before he covered his mouth with his hand in order to breath properly.

Power surged through Eddie’s viens. Sure it had rained that day, but Eddie had a feeling it wasn't just mother nature that was creating this storm.

After he caught his breath he allowed his gaze to rise from the muddy ground and meet the ones of the other. Straight to the point he asked, “Did you kill my father?” Bill’s voice was serious and steady as he kept himself from stuttering.

The Ancestor’s blue eyes narrowed at the human, he took another step towards him. “I didn’t kill him. He was shot, and I tried to save him. That’s how I ended up here.” Eddie explained, teeth gritting and fists clenched, his anger growing with the darkening clouds overhead.

“What? Th-That makes no sense. H-He died of a h-eart attack” Bill reasoned as he grasped at straws. He tried to mentally connect the dots and make sense of this but he was still missing too much information.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffed, now he was slowly approaching Bill. “Where I come from, there’s this council, and they rule above all else. After I saved him, they came in. Apparently I had ‘gotten to close’ and ‘revealed our secret’. So they killed him themselves, and set everything up perfectly,” Eddie explained, now maybe a foot or so away from Bill. “And everyone believed it!” He threw his hands into the air. “Except you,” He jabbed a finger at Bill’s chest. Bill nearly stumbled back at the sudden contact. “You need to keep your fucking mouth shut” Eddie grabbed Bill by the collar of his jacket and lifted him off the ground, pinning him against the forcefield. “Because if anyone catches a whiff of this. I. Am. Dead. You get that right?” Eddie practically growled.

Bill’s entire body shook at the sight of the feral Eddie that held him up. Without even fully understanding what he was doing he rapidly nodded his head.

Then Eddie leaned forward and whispered, “Good.” And within the blink of an eye, Bill was dropped onto the ground and Eddie disappeared.

Bill’s heart beat in his throat as his gut untwisted ever so slightly. His eyes scanned the area but Eddie was nowhere to be seen. Bill nearly jumped out of his skin when another round of thunder cracked overhead.

~

Richie laid awake in his bed, the duvet that had once covered him had been thrown off hours ago to allow his bare skin to breath. It felt as if someone had replaced his blood with hot flowing lava. It coursed through his veins in their desperate search for any type of exit so it can finally break free of the shell it’s housed in. His breathing was low and deep, as if he was releasing a steady growl whenever he exhaled.

Richie’s mind was like a hurricane, and he was in the eye of the storm, never thinking about one thought for too long before it eventually got swept away and replaced by something else. He could see tens of other thoughts rush past him but nothing ever stuck around long enough for him to give it his full attention.

He gladly took the soft clicking sound from his window as a perfect opportunity to rise from his bed and go see what was creating the noise. Richie stumbled over to his window and hastily drew the blinds. The nearly full moon lit up the Tozier’s backyard and created shadows that lurked on the outskirts of their property. His eyes caught on the looming figure directly below his window. Richie unlocked the window then yanked it open. He stuck his head out and into the cool night air as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. It didn’t take long for him to recognize who he was staring at.

“Eddie?” Richie called out, he regretted how loud his voice was but he was surprised and couldn’t control it.

“Yes! Of course it’s me dumbass who else-”

“What are you doing here?” Richie interrupted him, too worried about why he was standing outside of his window at 2 am.

“Can I… Can I come up there?” His voice wavered as his blue eyes shined in the moonlight.

Richie’s breath caught in his throat as he rushed to reply, “Yeah, sure. Um, how are you gonna-?” As he began to ask Eddie turned and started scaling the old maple tree beside his window.

Richie was a little nervous as Eddie had never done it before and he seemed a little distraught. The last thing Richie needed was for Eddie to lose focus and hurt himself.

The wolf watched carefully as the rabbit climbed up the main trunk and onto the branch that was closest to Richie’s window. He pulled the window open as far as possible to allow Eddie to climb his way inside. Richie stepped aside as Eddie swung his leg in and pulled his other leg over the window sill into Richie’s room. Before that foot landed on the floor, he wobbled and lost his balance.

Richie jumped into action, his instincts kicked in and allowed him to catch Eddie before he fell to the floor, inevitably waking his parents and alerting them of their late night activities. Richie rapidly wrapped his arms around Eddie’s form, holding him tightly to prevent any further tripping.

What Richie wasn't expecting was for Eddie to squirm out of his arms and shake his grasp off. Before Richie could protest or interrogate further, Eddie spoke with a distant and annoyed tone.

“Bill just paid me a fucking visit.” He harshly brushes his sweat pants off.

That grabbed Richie’s attention as he leaned his head in “What? Seriously?”.

Eddie stopped brushing his pants off and narrows his eyes, “Yes, why the fuck would I lie about that?” He continued before Richie could get a word in, “He came in all guns ‘a blazing, interrogating me about his dad. Then I ending up spilling the fucking beans about the council a-and and-” Eddie anxiously ran his hands through his hair and tugged at the roots. Everything had finally setteled and it was a lot to take in all at once.

The only thing Richie was able to ask was, “Does he know about me?”.

“Does he know about you? Of course not! Do you seriously thinkg I’d rat you out like that? Seriously.” he stopped to turn towards Richie and his hands were in that classic chopping motion he does when he’s really pissed. “My life could be on the fucking line and all you care about is yourself,” Eddie hissed and stepped back, away from Richie.

“No- Eds you know that’s not what I meant.” Richie held his hands out in defense, his eyebrows crinkled as regret filled his eyes.

“Don’t call me that, not now. Who gives a shit if Bill knows? If he finds out about any of us, we’re both done for. Can we just fucking sleep? I’m tired as hell.” Eddie guestured lazily towards the bed, not exactly giving up, just tired of fighting. Realization washed over the rabbit as he sighed, “And we have the fucking trip tomorrow.” Without another word the shorter male grabbed the duvet that’d been tossed aside and curled up in bed, not caring how much was left for the other boy.

Richie looked around, unsure of what his next move should be. Should I go sleep on the couch downstairs? Or maybe I could break out the sleeping bag. Eddie’s pissed and I cannot have him bailing on me tomorrow, for both of our safeties. Quietly, Richie climbed into bed. He let out a heavy exhale as his head hit the pillow. He let Eddie have all of the blankets he desired, since his body was still hot and sweaty.

“I am sorry Eddie.” Richie whispered into the dark room, sincerity laced his words.

Eddie simply grunted.

“Eddie please…” Richie scooted a little closer. “You know, it’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you. There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do” He said.

Eddie abruptly rolled over to face Richie, his face stern, mad even, but that was only a mask to hide the grin he was holding back. “Did you just fucking quote Africa by Toto?” He inquired with a scrunched up face.

Richie’s poker face shifted to a shit eating grin, “Does that make you horny baby?” Richie asked in his best Austin Powers impression.

Eddie acted immediately by grabbing the pillow from under his head and slapping Richie over the head with it. “Asshole!” He hollered with a vicious smile plastered over his lips.

“IT DOES I KNEW IT!” Richie exclaimed, half in the Austin Powers accent, half laughter.

“You’re such an idiot Richie Tozier!” Eddie called out as he held back laughter.

Richie’s smile only brightened further “But I’m your idiot.” He shoved his index finger over to poke Eddie’s chest.

“Fuck, I hate you,” Eddie finally released a small giggle.

“I hate you too.” Richie agreed as he leaned in and lightly kissed his boyfriend.

Word Count: 3426

GUYS NEXT CHAPTER IS THE BIG DAY! THE FULL MOOOOON!!! YEEEHAW

GET. READY.

CAUSE NEXT CHAPTER?

IS GOOD

I mean the whole fricken story is amazing but now it's like the good stuff. Also we're nearing the end of the fic and ahhhhh.

I really hope you guys enjoyed this!

And don’t forget to check me out on Instagram @ stellar.alley if you want to see more of my real life and some behind the scenes content! Also check out my a03 account for more stories @ stellar_alley. Don't forget to like,comment and share to show your support!

That's all from me y'all, until next time

So Long and Goodnight

~

[Taglist]

@richietoaster @s-onora @that-weird-girl-blog @beproudtozier @ghostnebula @bellarosewrites @s-s-georgie @lermanslogan @iamcupcakefrosting @madidraw @gazebobullshit @thoughtfullyyoungduck @aangzukos @ambitiousskychild @reddieonwheels @breadheadscorpius

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#it!everfalls #beverly marsh #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #werewolf richie #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #it chapter 1 #it 2019 #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #it #losers club #the losers club #incorrect losers quotes #incorrect losers club quotes

[kumeko]

Prompt: Brock gets shrunk to a finger size due to Hank Pym and Jack has to keep him entertained.

A/N: Written for HHdiscord, for @marveltrumpshate! I was originally planning a 3-5k fic (5 because it took so long!) but this mutated to a 7+k fic instead. I find this hilarious since the first thing I had to ask when writing this was “who’s Jack Rollins?” 

Here’s chapter 1!

…

…

…

…

There were many reasons to work for Hydra—a chance at status, the money, the ability to alter the world, the money. No, seriously, if you got high enough in the ranks, the payout was unimaginable. Unfortunately, not one of those reasons was their medical plan, substandard as it was. It was a pity, considering how often Brock’s men got injured when facing a superhero.

 Then again, maybe that was why they didn’t offer one. The overhead costs would be astronomical.

 Still, there had to be a better solution than sitting in his subordinate’s kitchen in the middle of the night, the light flickering above him because Jack didn’t remember to screw it on tight enough. Brock couldn’t say how many times he’d visited Jack’s rundown shack of a home, only that somehow it looked worse at every visit. While they weren’t getting paid the big bucks, they were certainly getting paid enough to afford better digs. For some reason, Jack liked living here; he had a rare strain of loyalty, the stupid kind that would get him killed.

 Brock just hoped that wouldn’t happen soon, it would be hard to find a competent replacement. Even more so now that the fucking Avengers were tossing everyone they could find into the slammer. A sharp sting interrupted his thoughts and he grimaced. “Watch it,” he growled, snapping his head to his right.

Next to him, holding a cotton swab dipped in alcohol, Jack raised a brow. “It’s not like it can sting less. It’s an open wound, what do you expect?”

 It was the truth. Brock glared at him anyways. “I can still hurt you.”

 Jack looked utterly unimpressed. Firmly, he pressed the cotton swab down once more, cleaning the wound. “If you can still threaten me, I guess you’re fine.”

 “Like there was any doubt,” he muttered, glancing down at his raised arm. There were three long slashes on his arm of varying depths, all reminders of what it means to go against S.H.I.E.L.D. Begrudgingly, he had to admit their field operatives weren’t bad. At least they gave him a bit of a challenge; it would be boring otherwise and he didn’t sign up for Hydra to fall asleep.

 Jack glanced at him, then back at the wound. Firmly gripping Brock’s arm, he started dabbing again. “No, you’re too good for them.”

 “Damn straight,” he bit out, resisting the urge to flinch as the swab brushed a more tender region. It was easier to deal with when he was the one patching himself, but Jack had insisted. Distracting himself, Brock scanned the kitchen, his eyes jumping from the clean plates in the dishrack to the sparse but organized counters. There was something ridiculously domestic about Jack despite his hulking frame. No doubt there was a frilly apron hidden somewhere here, and Brock chuckled darkly at the thought.

 Jack raised a brow at the sight but said nothing as he started to wrap a long, cloth bandage around his arm. He pulled tight with each round, almost enough to cut off circulation but not quite. “Maybe…”

 When he trailed off, saying nothing, Brock turned back to him. “What?”

 “Just…” Jack bowed his head, his shoulders hunched as he focused on bandaging. Hesitantly, he suggested, “Tomorrow’s mission, getting the Pym particles—maybe we should delay it.”

 It was the most asinine thing Brock had ever heard. He snorted, not sure if he should be insulted or just amused. “As if. Think Hydra would stop for something like this?”

 “Then what if you—”

 Now he was insulted. “Think I would stop for something like this?” Brock snarled, yanking his arm out of Jack’s grip. The still untied bandage started to unravel, loosening around his forearm.

 “Hey!” Jack protested, trying to snatch back the bandage.

 “Do you?” Brock repeated, keeping his arm away. With his good hand, he grabbed Jack by the collar and pulled him down till they were at eye level.

 Jack was good at many things, but eye contact was not one of them. He looked away. “No.”

 “This is nothing.” Not quite satisfied, he let go and held up his forearm once more. “Don’t be such a fucking mother hen.”

 “I’m not,” Jack shot back, tugging on the bandage harder than necessary.

 Brock wanted to laugh. For someone with Hydra, he was a poor liar. No longer insulted, he eyed his subordinate, amused. Part of him wanted to needle Jack more, to push his buttons; he’s seen Jack scared, worried, hurt, but never angry.

 At the very least, the sex would be amazing.

 Maybe he could try after the mission.

 -x-

 “This it?” Standing in front of a tall, dilapidated building, Brock frowned. The place looked like an apartment on the verge of being torn down rather than a secret hiding place of a superhero. Sure, Hank Pym was an ex-hero at this point, but that sort of stench never really washed off. The government always paid them off one way or another.

 “Yeah.” Jack shifted from one foot to the other, antsy. Dressed entirely in black, he blended in with the shadows save for his green night-goggles. The street was darker than it ought to be at midnight, the streetlights here dead so Brock didn’t have to break them. “Thought it’d be nicer.”

 “Guess it doesn’t pay to retire no matter what side you’re on.” Brock shook his head, feeling mildly disappointed.

 “Retire?” Jack gave him a look, before looking at the rest of their squad spread out around them. Half a dozen men dressed in black, tensely studying the building in front of them, ready for a fight. “That’s not even an option, is it?”

 Brock didn’t bother to answer. Jack was right—Brock couldn’t even name some of the newer guys, they’ve cycled through so many. He had no illusions about his place in Hydra—they’d use him until they couldn’t, and then they’d dispose of him the first chance they got. Unless he rose to the top or saved a good nest egg, he wasn’t going to make it past 40. 50, if he were lucky.

 Not that Brock needed luck. He made his own and in a place like Hydra, he thrived.

 Jack checked his watch. “It’s almost time to start.”

 “Have two guys come down from the top.” Brock pulled on his mask as he shifted to a commanding tone. His shoulder ached from the movement but he bit back a wince; he was here to do a job. If Jack noticed, he didn’t say anything. He liked that about him, it was hard to find a professional sometimes. “We’ll go in through the front and pin him in.”

 “What if he shrinks?” Jack asked, pulling down his goggles and readying his gun.

 “Doesn’t matter. We’re not here for him, but for the particles.” Brock gestured to two members of his squad. They nodded and quietly slinked toward the front door. One of them stood to the side, gun cocked, while the other forced the door open.

 Nothing happened. Brock jogged forward, his gun drawn and goggles on. Scanning his surroundings, he commanded, “Catch him if you can. But I don’t mind if he’s bloody or dead.”

 The inside of the building was surprisingly clean and empty. Someone lived here, even if it wasn’t Pym. For a lobby, the area was sparsely decorated, a wide square room with a single chair on side and a board full of keys on the other. Not bothering to grab them, Brock headed to the apartment rooms. “Everyone take a floor,” he barked, already making his way to first floor rooms.

 He kicked in the first door he found and rolled in. Just like the lobby, the apartment room was empty, the walls all newly painted white. Signs of people without the people. His goggles indicated no signs of Pym, small or otherwise.

 As he exited back to the hallways, he bumped into Jack coming out from the opposite room. “Not here, unless he’s small,” Jack griped, glaring at the carpet as though Pym was hiding in its fibers.

 Maybe Pym was. As good as his equipment was, it wasn’t that good. Brock stepped more forcefully. “If he is, his fucking equipment has to be around.  If I’m chasing him a second time, he’s dead.”

 It was easy to keep up the energy as he burst into the next apartment. And then the one after that. The entire first floor was cakewalk.

 By the fifth floor, however, it was just getting tedious. Even with the fact that his team had split up, dividing and conquering the fifty-storey building, it still took time to investigate each room. The results were the same each time—no Pym, no particles, no equipment. Occasionally, the empty rooms had furniture, indications of their previous tenants, but Brock wasn’t sure if it was just a red herring or if there was some meaning in it. He wasn’t a detective, he’d leave that work for the cleanup team after.

 “The teams above are almost done,” Jack relayed to him, standing stock still as he listened to his earpiece.

 Brock shot open a door half-heartedly, tired of it all. “Fucking finally. Can’t wait to leave.”

 “After we finish this hall, we’re done.” Jack checked the room across the hall with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop.

 “He wasn’t here at all,” Brock grumbled, checking the last room in the hall. “Who thought he was?”

 Jack shrugged, already leading the way to the stairwell. “Dunno, one of the intelligence units.”

 “When we get back, I’m having their head.” As Brock descended down the stairs, he ground his teeth. Their steps echoed through the stairwell. “Waste of a night.”

 “Yeah. Everyone’s out now.” Jack opened the door to the first floor lobby and headed toward the front doors.

 “Your house,” Brock stated shortly, still pissed.

 Jack smiled. “I thought you didn’t like my house.”

 “I’m not breaking my bed.” Brock snorted. There was only one kind of distraction he needed after this, and it was going to be rough.

 “I don’t know why I bother to repair it,” Jack muttered, opening the glass door. He lingered at the entrance, looking back at him. “Coming?”

 “One sec.” Brock scanned the lobby one last time. Just like when he’d arrived, there was nothing here that caught his eye, no sign of the man or the particles they were after. The door closed in front of him and he sighed before following after Jack. “What an utter was—”

 As he exited the building, his body started to tingle. Brock stared at his hands as a fuzzy, glowing light enveloped him and the building. He felt disconnected from his body, like he was half-asleep and listening to Jack go to the bathroom.

 He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the glowing lights were gone but he still felt fuzzy. Maybe his arm had been poisoned yesterday. Maybe it was blood loss.

 “Brock?” Jack yelled, his voice sounding way too loud. His shadow fell on Brock, looking like it could eclipse the sun.

 “What?” As usual, Brock looked up at his subordinate. And then he craned his neck back and looked up even more.

 Fuck, Jack was always a tall man, but he was a fucking giant now.

#brock rumlow #jack rollins #hydra husbands #crossbones #captain america #mcu #forgive some mischaracterizations #i'm still working on voice #but hopefully progressive chapters sound better (i think i got a hang of it by ch 3) #fanfic

[lcofowler]

under the wire | self

“You just get whatever you want, okay? Didn’t you say you were craving pickles? Go get some pickles – maybe you’re pregnant!”

Apparently, Marj knew him so well that even when Leo was cackling over a shirt Steve had bought him that was about ten sizes too small, she could still tell he wasn’t in the best of moods. With an unexpected breakup from Lana and his dad’s nonstop calling, it felt like his own personal black cloud hung somewhat heavy over his head. Marj and Steve never let him come grocery shopping with them; “You want everything, and then you go back to school and never finish anything! You run us out of house and home!” Steve complained, almost every time, but Marj must’ve sweet talked him into letting Leo come.

“Yeah, maybe. Fingers crossed. Gotta go onto Maury after to figure out who the dad is, though. Just so many options -,”

“Enough, Leo. Go!”

Standing in front of the pickles section, Leo gazed at the different brand options like there were 500 instead of a measly five. His phone was a quick rescue, though – usually his volume was turned off, but he’d kept it on after texting Philly to ask what her favourite flower was. It’d been a nice thought, but now he was somewhat regretting it, glancing at his chiming phone only to see the name Mother Fucker blinking back at him for the fourth time that day.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’d just finished a RedBull less than an hour ago, but somehow, he was suddenly exhausted, “Hello, Fowler’s Sex Line, how can we help you?”

“Very funny,” Archie Fowler sounded anything but amused – if Leo had the same sort of disdainful relationship with his dad that he had with his mouth and had decided to call him by his first name, he imagined his dad would insist on being called Archibald in that moment, “No service in Connecticut, I’m assuming?”

“Nope, just ignoring you. What’s so fucking urgent? Did Auggie die or something? Mickey? If it was Mickey you gotta let me step outside, I really don’t wanna bust in the middle of a grocery store.”

“Your brothers are fine. You’re being disgusting -,”

“Just a joke. Jee-sus, who do you think I am? The devil?” Rolling his eyes and pointing to his phone, Leo and Steve made matching faces of distaste when he mouthed that he was talking with his dad.

“If you’re done? I’d like you to be back in Manhattan by next weekend. For good. That’s more than enough time to pack everything up, I assume?”

“What?”

“Please, Leo, not now. Don’t act so stupid now. I don’t have time for this – I’ve heard about what’s going on at your school, what you get up to. You need to be set straight; you need to come back to Manhattan. We’ll set you up with something here, where I can watch you.”

Hand freezing as it gripped over the pickle jars, Leo’s eyes all but bugged out of his head. That’d been the last thing he was expecting – it was the last thing in the entire world he wanted, too. Turning back towards where Marj and Steve were waiting for him at the end of the aisle, Leo merely held his phone out towards them. He could hear Archie blabbing away on the other line; Hello? Leo? Leopold? Really, Leo? This is hardly mature.

“What? What’s wrong?” Leo thinks Marj might’ve asked him, sure that his face was twisted with permanent confusion, while Steve took the phone – it was his brother after all.

He’d wished, now, that he listened to Marj when she insisted they speak only Dutch around the house so that Leo could keep up with the language. Steve spoke so fast, he missed bits and pieces, but got the general gist.

You can’t just stop paying for his schooling.

Arch, we want him here.

Who told you that?

Leo thinks the word boyfriend might have been tossed into the mix. That made him flinch – it’d been funny, the first time he’d told his dad he’d spent the night with a boy. His dad had spat while he was yelling, Bible flying so fast at Leo’s head that it was comical, even when he had to get stitches along the frail skin beside his right eye.

“It’s so fucking awful being around you when you get like this,” his mom had said to him once after a fit, two knuckles broken and the rest wrapped up after he’d gotten so angry with his brother he’d punched at the side of their bricked up house until the pain had been enough for him to nearly pass out, “It’s disgusting. You don’t even seem human.”

“Leo!”

It felt like the entire grocery store had gone silent after Leo had tossed the jar in hand onto the ground, too angry to even appreciate the satisfying noise the glass had made as it shattered.

“What the hell was that?” he heard his dad ask once Leo’d snatched his phone back – he didn’t sound concerned, or even angry. More put out, expectant. Probably knew this reaction was coming.

“Fuck! You!”

His phone went crashing next – across the aisle, knocking over beans on the opposite side of where they stood. People had started to stare now, even going so far as to rounding the corner so they could catch a view of the show. A teenager, who obviously wanted to be anywhere but at his job, had sighed heavily when he saw the mess. He hadn’t clued in yet to what was going on.

“Leo, please, please don’t do this here.” Marj, who was already crying.

“Okay, we gotta go, we gotta go, we gotta go -,” Steve.

With one sweeping gesture, almost the entirety of the pickle section came down with a large crash landing.

“Please, he didn’t mean it!” Marj, who was trying to fix his rampage when it wasn’t even over yet.

“We’re going, c’mon, we’re going -,” Steve, to security, who grabbed onto Leo’s arms seconds after he’d tossed something else – he didn’t even see what, this time around, down the aisle again.

“Get off me! Get off me!”

It happened a bit quickly after that, probably. Like when Philly had been taken away to the hospital, things flashed in pictures from then on. He vaguely remembers a 911 call after he’d kicked wildly at the security that wasn’t restraining him, going limp so that his full weight pulled against whoever was holding him in an attempt to escape. A bit of pain after that, really exerting themselves to hold him back, hold him down. It hurt more to hear Marj cry hysterically, though, practically screaming until the door of a police car was shutting and drowning her out.

By the time he was in a holding cell, he’d calmed down enough that the time passed more like a handful of rapid snapshots than one, long attempt at a picture.

“Fowler? Your brother’s here, paid your bail.”

Sitting up on the one bench in the cell he’d been strewn across, Leo flashed the officer that’d come to grab him a confused look, “Uh, don’t think so,” his voice was scratchy and it hurt to talk – it’d been the first time he’d done it since the grocery store. Maybe he’d been screaming. Or crying, though he’d prefer the former.

“Look, someone’s here for you, so you gotta get out. So – get out.”

It’d been a shock when Leo found out it really had been one of his brothers there for him. Augustus stood, firm as usual, in the middle of the police department, looking like he couldn’t decide over whether he wanted to hug Leo or hit him.

“You’re in Connecticut.”

“It’s only a two-hour drive. Do you even know what time it is?” Leo looked out the window – it was pitch black out, but it’d been barely noon when they’d first gotten to the store, “Whatever. Get in the fucking car.”

Leo sulked, then. For the first fifteen minutes of their drive, they sat in silence, and Leo sulked. A habit, after being yelled at by his oldest brother, who hadn’t even yelled so much as sternly talked to him. Which, frankly, was worse.

“Just take me to my dorm. I don’t wanna see them right now, they probably don’t wanna fuckin’ see me, either.”

“To your dorm?” Leo watched Auggie flash him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye, but refused to meet his gaze, “Are you an idiot? Do you not know how bad this is?”

That caused his blood pressure to spike slightly, “What do you mean? What’re you talking about? We’ve been through this before -,”

“Yeah. A lot. You damaged public property and assaulted staff and cops. That doesn’t look all that fucking great alongside your multiple other fucking arrests. Did you not listen to a single thing anyone was saying to you while you were having your little tantrum? Again?”

Leo finally looked at his brother then. He sounded exactly like their dad when he got like this, but the only reason Leo let him get away with it was because he knew the anger came from concern instead of exasperation.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I didn’t know,” he finally settled on, swallowing thickly past the panic in his throat, “You’re not taking me back to Manhattan are you? I’m not staying at dad’s, I’m not going -,”

“You can’t leave the state,” Pulling into Marj and Steve’s driveway felt more like pulling up to a funeral, “I’m gonna move in for a bit. Figure out a lawyer for you -,”

“Oh my god, come on -,”

“Take this fucking seriously!” Leo actually flinched when Augustus slammed the palm of his hand against the wheel, “It’s bad! You’ve got a real honest to god trial coming up – your luck has obviously run out, Leo. They’re saying you have to pay for everything you fucking broke, too. How do you think you’re gonna do that, huh?”

Leo couldn’t do anything but stare blankly. If he showed emotion in that moment, he was pretty sure he’d burst into hysterical tears.

“Jesus Christ. Right – Look, I’m – I’m not trying to sound like an asshole, but. It’s bad. And you’re gonna need people in your corner. A good handful of people who can be character witnesses, so… if there’s anyone at that fucking school of yours that you trust, I’d give them a call. Now.”

#self #under the wire #muse. #assault tw #violence tw #abuse tw #homophobia tw #i hope ..................................... thts it #dabs my forehead so fkin much............ #SKLDHGLKSHDGLKSDKLGLDS #this is kinda long i wont . lie bt #i made it mostly dialogue bc my brain is Dead bt i jst had this idea n had #to do it x #its not my best bt it is what it is. we all suffer here. #i also actually proofread it so if theres another mistake im gna lose my mind #also ig some ppl might not kno so if u dnt marj n steve r his aunt n uncle #ok actually runs away on all fours after posting this to probs sleep LKSDHGLKHSDG

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

BTS

Park Jimin/Reader [F]

Genre: Literally: just fluff and Halloween

Warning(s): The use of the word fuck like one time

Words: 1.7k

a/n: I know it’s still August, stfu.  I can write about Halloween if I wanna write about Halloween.  If y’all can talk about Christmas in like April, I can talk about All Hallows Eve.  Long story short, have a drabble that takes place after Taboo Attachment.  If you haven’t read that, feel free to click on that there link and do so. (pls love it, it’s one of my bbies)

October was your favorite month- for several reasons.  For one, it was the time of year for the best type of weather.  Breezes that chill the air just enough for the best hoodie hung up in your closet.  Leaves finally falling from their tree limbs only for them to crunch so satisfyingly under your boot heels.  

Another was Jimin’s apparent birthday he neglected to tell you about until the day of.  In which you haphazardly threw together a small party for him when he was working.  Only Seokjin, his mother and a co-worker pal of Jimin’s- Taehyung- on the attendance list.  When he came home that day, the smile he wore when he was shocked to see a small group of friends of his for his birthday showed you that this was enough. 

Lastly, the night of all nights: Halloween. 

“Hey, are you going to dress up for Halloween?” You asked Jimin.  You both sat on the couch, your legs are thrown over his as he rested his hand on your thigh, the other holding a book open as he read.  He had been reading book after book recently in his free time- find the imagination of human’s endearing.  He fancied non-fiction action the most.  He still sat in his human form, knowing his demon hand would risk cutting you with his claws.  He looked at you, eyes leaving his book. 

“Why would I need to?” 

“I dunno,” you shrugged.  “It could be fun.”  You took a sip of your tea, fresh and steamy as it sat in your mug.  A mug Jimin brought home as a keepsake from his job; the words Serendipity Spa printed in script on the side.  

“I don’t think I will,” he drew out in a breathy voice, looking back to his book.  Finishing his paragraph, he spoke again.  “What about you, dearest?  Any plans to play non-human for a night?” He joked with a chuckle.  

You smiled as you leaned to set your mug on the table and you whipped out your voice.  You inched closer to him so he could clearly see your phone’s screen as he set his book away for the second time.  You began to show him picture after picture of Halloween themed props and clothes. 

From fake blood to capes, you had it all.  You showed a pair of fake curled devil horns, fake teeth for fangs, all the black-gaudy clothes you could find and even red contact lens. 

“I’m going to be a demon,” you laughed at yourself.  “You’ll never guess what my inspiration was.” 

Jimin played along with your teasing.  “Well, if it isn’t your dashing demon husband, we’ll have ourselves a problem,” he told you.  Pinching at your side as you squirmed away from his hand. 

“Oh my- we could match!” You exclaimed.  “If you walk around as yourself- like your demon self- we could totally be the best demon couple ever.” 

“Is it safe for me to push my luck like that?” 

“Sure it is.  It’s Halloween, Jimin.  Everyone will think it’s just a costume anyway. duh.”

“Don’t ‘duh’ me,” he told you with another pinch.  “You can dress up all you want, I’ll just sleep.”  You expected that from him honestly.  You weren’t upset since you suggested it half-joking.  Jimin was very homebody recently, working tiring him out because of his skyrocketing popularity with clients who have steadily started becoming regulars.  You couldn’t blame either party.  You smiled as you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

“That’s completely fine with me.  You need to rest up too, just because your a demon doesn’t mean you don’t get tired.”  Jimin began to doze off, his demon slipping out along with his growing dreariness.  “Do you want me to stay in with you or can you hold down the fort?” 

Jimin hummed.  “You have plans?” He inquired. 

“My class is putting together a little Halloween party and I signed up for the working committee.  I’ll be helping run a small little prop-photo booth.”  Jimin remained slight.  “Oh, but I don’t have to go!  My class isn’t small but any means, so I can always skip,” you added with a small laugh.  

“No,” Jimin shook his head, letting out a breath out of his nose.  “Go have fun.  Not like I need to be taken care of,” he chuckled.  

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

“Yes, love.  I’m sure.” 

When Halloween came, Jimin got home and was only vaguely aware you were working on a quick meal for him before you left.  By the time he fell onto the couch, he had already ditched his human skin, content on a nap right there. Next thing he knew, he was waking up and it was already past 8 PM and well dark out. 

“Y/n?” He called, momentarily forgetting you were gone.  Seeing a note under a glass of water, he sat up to read it. 

‘Please rest up! When you wake up, food is in the fridge (I know you don’t need it, but eat anyway.  Wife’s orders).  Bottom shelf! I’ll be home pretty late.  Happy Halloween!’

He scoffed playfull and moved to the balcony glass door.  Even on the third floor and the door closed, he could see and hear all the overseen children dressed up as they stay up well past bedtime to go door-to-door for a sweet treat or two to add to their stash. Jimin could see royalty to wicked dressed by toddlers with his excelled eyesight.  He let a small smile grace his lips. 

The single lamp lit room was comforting to the demon.  Cliche that the dark, shadow demon enjoyed the dark of his apartment.  The apartment he shared with you.  

From the couch, he heard his phone chime with a message.  It must’ve fallen out of his pocket while he slept.  Finding his place back on the couch he pulled the phone from it’s pinned position between the cushions.  It was a message from Seokjin.  He apparently volunteered to help your class (specifically you) with the party set up. 

He sent a photo of himself- ever the narcissist- along with a line of text. 

[Seokjin: Your wife dressed appropriately.  I’m not going to show you though.  Your loss.] 

He was obviously teasing, but Jimin did feel the smallest sliver of guilt that he didn’t actually get to see you dressed up for the night.  Glancing at the clock, he shot Seokjin a message back. 

[Jimin: So, when does this party end?]

Half an hour later, Jimin was meeting Seokjin at the front of a public gymnasium that the college party was currently held at. Showing up as a ‘dress up’ demon.  Seokjin- upon seeing him- whistled. 

Looking as his normal-self, Jimin sports his demonic traits the slightest bit of irony in his eyes.  Of course, pulling his finest pair of black slacks, white oversized button-up and freeing his forehead of his bangs.  The mocking cross earring in a dull silver, chains around his neck and plethora of rings on his fingers were a little added bonuses. 

“Wow, you sure take Halloween seriously, don’t you?” You even matched with Y/n!” 

“What can I say, Halloween is the best night to really be myself.” He shrugged as Seokjin clapped his shoulder.  Taking his sarcastic tone in stride when Jimin bit back his legitimate seriousness. 

Walking inside the party room was what he almost expected. Darkroom with, yellow, purple and green lights flicking around.  Students with a glow stick around their necks or wrists.  A long snack table with a cheap purple table cloth covered in bats and a Jack-O-Lantern at every turn.  There was a booth in the back for pictures with a selection of ‘spooky’ props. 

Jimin rolled his lips to keep from laughing at the costumes around him.  Hooker to nurse to batman to hobos and anything supernatural docked down was in the house.  At least 50 people in attendance with more still filing in. 

Seokjin pat Jimin’s back.  “Allow me to escort you to your lady,” he flaunted.  He was dressed up as a butler after all.  Weaving through the weeds of humans, Seokjin came to your booth.  You were inside, clean up from the last photo-goers.  “Y/n!  Your demon husband is here!” A slightly panicked squeal at Seokjin’s choice of words left you as Jimin slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.  You sped out of your booth, rounding the corner. 

“Shut up, Seokjin!” You gasped, seeing him with Jimin.  A dressed-up demonic Jimin with a face blessed by God.  “Jimin?!” You made your way over. “I thought you were going to stay home tonight?” 

“I persuaded him to come out,�� Seokjin chimed in.  You offered him a glare, making him scurry off before he was faced to be met with your fury.  Disappearing into the crowd of costumes, tailcoat whipping behind his legs like a cape.  You crossed your arms.  

“It’s alright,” Jimin chuckled. 

“It is not! You’re tired and he made you come all the way out here.” You huffed as Jimin looked you over. 

“Seeing you like this,” he started.  You were dressed as a literal sin. The high-waisted garter shorts pressed into your skin, showing that your leg was more than bone (something he won’t admit to your face he fucking adores).  The fishnet excuse of an undershirt teased your stomach as your cropped and torn up black shirt exposed it.  The platform boots made you taller, making you eye-to-eye with him.  Pentagram earrings, chain choker around your neck and teased hair showing your fake horns and glower red covered eyes.  Jimin peeked his tongue out past his fang.  “Coming out was absolutely worth it. You look like a proper Demoness.” 

You pushed your chest out in pride.  “I take my demonic passion very seriously.”

“Of course you do.  You married me,” he teased.  One of your classmates volunteered to take photos of you and your husband in the booth.  You and Jimin quickly took the opportunity while it was presented. 

What other time are you going to get an authentic photo of your demon husband after all? 

Before leaving the venue, you both took a walk around a nearby block and more than a few children told you that your costumes were both ‘really cool’. You giggled each time a child swooned over Jimin- even a few mothers sent glances.  The night concluded as you and Jimin drove home and contemplated adding to your small family.  

By adopting a black cat.  Named appropriately: Pitch. 

-END-

a/n pt.2: pls appreciate the lack of curses here, bc it’s rly hard for me to limit myself.  I said fucking once and I’m proud of that. (hi appreciate the drabble pls thx)

#btsboulangerie #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #park Jimin #jimin #bts jimin #bts #bts au #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin fanfiction #jimin x reader #jimin x reader au #reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #au #jimin au #Demon au #demon jimin #fluff #jimin fluff #established relationship #park jimin fluff #bangtan

[justsomebucky]

The Three Date Minimum - 3

Summary: Reader is the last single person at her office, and while she puts on a good front, she’s lonely. Will dating apps find true love, or will she swear off romance for good?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: language, drinking, sexual innuendo, lots of bad language, no elderly ladies were harmed, uh...fluff…this is fluff.

A/N: Sorry it’s been…three months?! I lost motivation. This is barely edited. But @imhereforbvcky wrote this amazing Wade story and while my Wade is nowhere near as perfect, it made me want to finalize this chapter. Thanks for the Wade help, Mee!

No matter how many times you told yourself that everything was going to be okay, you were still so freakin’ nervous.

Speed-dating was one thing…you didn’t have to put up with anyone for very long and you definitely had the chance to bail.

Your date with Wade was a real date, one that required extended alone time with one human, awkward or not. Not only that, but he wanted to go out on a Sunday…

Why a Sunday? He hadn’t bothered to tell you that.

In fact, Wade hadn’t even told you where you were going yet. His last text had said, ‘Dress casually. Can’t wait.’ followed by thirteen winky faces.

THIRTEEN!

What the hell could a grown-ass man accomplish by sending thirteen winky faces?

Anyway, you spent your morning with the nervous sweats while changing into five different ‘casual’ outfits, trying to decide which would be practical and comfortable but also make you feel less like a potato.

It didn’t help to have Natasha watching your every move, commenting on everything from your hair to your demeanor (you were not being negative, you were just feeling a little anxious!)

“Promise me that when he finally gets here you’re going to act a little more enthusiastic,” Natasha commented dryly from her seat on your bed. “If it’s already a bad date in your head, then it’s definitely not going to go well.”

“Can’t someone have more than one emotion, Nat? I am enthusiastically getting ready, after all.” You leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting the way the fabric of your shirt fell. “Do you think this –“

“It’s fine!” She stood up and pulled you away from the mirror, turning you around to face her before cupping your cheeks. “Y/N. You have to stay calm. You have to stay open-minded, okay? Wade has a lot of energy, he’s very excitable…just go with it for one night, okay?”

She was right, of course.

“I get it, Nat.”

“You can do this.” Her hands dropped from your face. “I believe in you.”

You gave a sharp nod, more for yourself than for her. “I can do this.”

Before Natasha could utter another word, the buzzer sounded.

It was five o’clock, and Wade had arrived.

----

To say that Wade Wilson was handsome would be insulting. He was gorgeous, with bright eyes and a great smile. He was also funny, sweet, charming as hell, and as Natasha had said, really energetic.

So energetic, in fact, that you were tired before you even got to the cab out front. As a self-made introvert, you just weren’t on his level anymore.

He opened the door for you, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture towards the back seat. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks,” you said, getting into the cab and scooting over to make room for Wade.

“Hello!”

You looked up at the rearview mirror, meeting the eyes of the driver. “Hello.”

“Dopinder, what did I say?” Wade chided, shaking his head. He looked over to you apologetically. “Don’t mind him, he’s just my regular driver so I asked for a favor tonight.”

“Mr. Wade, where are we going?” Dopinder asked, glancing at you again in his mirror. “Where does the young lady want to go?”

“I have plans to really wow this one.” Wade gave you a nod and a wink. “It’s 2865 West 3rd Street, here in Brooklyn.”

Dopinder looked confused for a second after typing the address into his GPS. “But Mr. Wade, that’s a –“

“Just drive!”

You shifted uncomfortably. What the hell was going on?

Where was Wade taking you?

“You know, Y/N, I feel like I ordered you off of Amazon or something,” he commented.

Your eyes met his again, and you tried to bite back a laugh. “Why is that?”

Wade’s thoughts went a mile a minute. “Well, it’s like something on my Wish List was finally back in stock, you know? And I got that little email alert, and my eyes lit up like a kid on his birthday, so I rushed over in a crappy cab to open your box. Well, not that box, maybe later though I don’t want to press my luck. Of course, maybe that’s a bad analogy since you seem really nice and Amazon is a corporate nightmare. Also Jeff Bezos is a real dickhead, he could end world hunger six times over but he doesn’t, so he deserves to have his nuts put in a blen-“

“We’re here!” Dopinder announced.

“Thank god,” you muttered, opening up your door and exiting the cab as quickly as possible. When you turned to look at the building you’d been dropped off in front of, your eyes narrowed in question.

“Shoreview Retirement Home,” you read out loud, turning to Wade in confusion as he finished paying Dopinder. “Wade, why…why are we at a retirement home?”

His eyes gleamed in the street light. “Oh, it’s not just any retirement home, Y/N. This is the home my Nana was at before her untimely passing.”

All you could do was follow him up the cement stairs and into the lobby. “But that only leads me to more questions, like, why are we at a retirement home for a date where your Nana used to be?”

The question fell on deaf ears, though, as Wade signed in at the front desk and was almost immediately surrounded by about eight different elderly women in wheelchairs, all reaching for him with big grins on their faces.

So he was popular with the elderly…big deal. It was kind of sweet, right? He clearly had a bond with these ladies, probably from all the time spent when his Nana was still around. It was really sweet that he still volunteered here.

“I don’t even volunteer here,” Wade called from the center of the granny cyclone. “I just show up to kick some old-timer ass at shuffleboard and eat all their applesauce. Greatest generation my ass!”

“It’s pudding night, hot stuff!”

“Watch your hands there, Gladys!”

His hands formed a little heart shape in your direction. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

----

“Okay, Y/N…the secret to being really really good at shuffleboard is to be the disc. Feel its path. Become one with the disc.” Wade reached around you and gripped your cue, making you feel incredibly uncomfortable for, oh, about the hundredth time since you arrived. “Here, let me show you in a not-at-all suggestive way.”

“I think I got it, Wade.”

“Okay, but just watch out, because that Dorothy over there, she’s a real competitor. She’s won the last five championships here, and I’ve seen her make some cutthroat moves to get that trophy.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Isn’t that right, Dot, you fucking cheater?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I’ll keep an eye out for Dorothy.”

Taking a turn was nerve-wracking, because not only was Wade up your ass with every move, but the old ladies really did take the game seriously. Once you pushed the disc down the court, you sighed in relief. You’d never wished for an open bar at a retirement home before, but there was a first time for everything.

After a mediocre round where the disc didn’t even get close to the mark, you turned back to Wade, who was now seated between two elderly women you hadn’t met yet.  

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said, nodding toward the court. “It’s totally okay that you didn’t become the disc, and now Dorothy and Agnes are gonna take me for all their worth. It’s totally fine.”

So, you guessed it bothered him.

“Sylvia!” Wade shouted, jumping about a foot away from the little woman seated beside him. “Wait to pinch my ass until after I win!”

“Stop putting it in front of me, hot stuff,” Sylvia replied, waggling her eyebrows at him.

Wade stood up and walked over to you, rubbing his backside dramatically. “That Sylvia, man, she’s a goddamn cougar. Or a cougar’s horny Grandma. Everyone else here knows the ass-pinching-during-shuffleboard etiquette.”

“Wade, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked the attention you got from these women.” You gestured around you. “And they like it too.”

“I like to keep their spirits up, Y/N.” His face grew serious, hands moving to his hips. “It’s not about me at all. I simply want to help some old women facing the end of their meaningless, stinky, diaper-ridden lives to have a little fun before they’re sent to the dirt. The men here could join too, but they just get so jealous. A shuttle with a working rocket booster can really cause some envy around here.”

“Fair enough,” you offered, handing him the cue for his turn and ignoring his last remark. “But I’m not a seasoned shuffleboard professional. If you can salvage this turn we still have a good chance at winning.”

He gave you a wink. “You’re damn right we do. Watch and learn, Y/N.”

You stood off to the side as Wade stepped up to the court, cue in hand as he stared his opponents down.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad. He liked helping others and he really did seem like the kind of guy who wanted to make the world a better place, even if it was in his own weird way. Plus, at least it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill dinner and a movie, right? It was something to talk about.

“Goddammit, Dorothy! I’m gonna yeet your fucking dentures into next Tuesday if you don’t stop cheating!”

You shrunk back against the brick wall behind you.

Then again, maybe he really did just like competing against senior citizens.

----

Once Wade was declared shuffleboard king (after challenging one of Agnes’ moves), he tried to get you to stay for celebratory rice pudding, but you insisted that you had to get home (at 7:30 PM on a Sunday).

Was it a good date?

Would you…could you go out with him again?

It would take a lot of processing and probably a lot of alcohol to figure that one out, but it was still your second-best date so far.

At least this whole ordeal would be over soon and you could go back to watching Netflix.

You narrowly avoided having Dopinder pick you up by explaining that you liked to walk, and after a goodnight hug that lasted a little too long (with an almost-ass-grab that you also narrowly avoided), you and Wade parted ways.

As you passed the 107th on your way home, a strange urge to go inside and vent to the snarky bartender filled your veins. It would just be nice to talk to someone who was calm and witty instead of crazy and…well, crazy. Plus, it was too early to message Nat or Wanda without them hounding you for details.

Just one drink, you promised yourself as you stepped up to the door and reached for the handle.

On the door, a bright yellow notice informed you that the place was closed for a private party.

“Dammit,” you mumbled, lowering your hand. With a sigh, you turned back around to head home to whatever takeout and wine might be left in your fridge.

“Hey!”

Wait…

“Snarky bartender?” you asked, turning around to see Bucky opening the door. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to creep on the bar, I saw that notice and was leaving.”

A bemused smile lifted his lips. “Snarky bartender? Is that what you’ve been calling me in your head?”

“And out loud now, ‘cause I forgot your name,” you lied smoothly.  

“Sure you did. Just like I forgot yours, Y/N.” He kept the door propped open with his foot as he stepped further outside. “Did you want to come in?”

“I thought there was a private event?”

“There is.”

“It’s not a speed-dating event is it?”

“No, it’s an engagement party.”

Your brows stitched together. “Which means it’s invite only.”

“And I’m inviting you.”

“Won’t the host get mad?”

“No, I’m the host.”

“You’re the what now?”

Bucky chuckled at your confused expression. “I mean, I own the place. This is my bar. So my invite stands, if you want.”

You eyed him warily. Why hadn’t he told you it was his bar and he was a snarky owner? “I shouldn’t. I have work in the morning.”

His head tilted a little as he pushed the door a little wider. “Come on, just stay for a few drinks, on the house. And I mean it this time.”

“Well when you put it that way.” You brushed past him and right into the party, his soft laugh echoing behind you.

----

Part 4

Masterlist

No tags

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky #jsb three date min #feedback motivates ya know #briefly wade wilson x reader for the date part

[frankchurchillsaysrelax]

Malex prompt: Alex calls Michael by his first name only on special occasions and only ever during sex. Gimme the one time he chooses to use it in a public setting/not during sex and what Michaels response is

Happy birthday Marlo! I hope this little piece of fluff (angsty fluff? flangst?) brings us luck for tonight’s finale.

i’m on the bench, but coach just put me in the game

Michael never really gave much thought to his name growing up. It was something assigned to him by the system that chewed him up and spit him out. The most generic first name they could have possibly chosen and a last name that holds no meaning to him. Two words that were nothing more than a moniker to help distinguish him from the other troubled boys in the group homes or for foster parents to shout in his face and curse under their breath.

Aside from the, thankfully, short lived Mikey and the occasional hey asshole, he’s only ever had the two names. But over the years he’s noticed the different ways people say them, the tones and inflections that make the words their own.

The clipped way Sanders shouts after him, alternating first and surname, even when they’re in the same room. The enthusiastic screams of Michael from one night stands he was sober enough to remember. Guerin said in the annoyed and occasionally hostile tone Maria has when she’s sick of his bullshit, which is basically always. The exhausted and resigned way everyone in the Sheriff’s office greets him even after he stops being a frequent visitor.

He is only ever Michael to Max and Isobel, a subtle way of ignoring the glaring detail that legally separates them. Isobel did call him by his full name once in anger which led to her freaking out for the next three hours about turning into her mother.

He’s heard them say his name a thousand different ways but at the end of the day he knows what they each are truly trying to convey. Disappointment and condescension from Max, maybe an offer of support if he’s feeling generous. Affection occasionally tinged with disgust from Isobel but always with an underlying level of concern.

Then there is Alex. He’s only ever been Guerin to Alex. Well, that’s not necessarily true. After a week of Alex coming to visit him in his family’s tool shed, Michael had finally asked if Alex just didn’t know his first name. Alex had smiled that beautiful smile that only ever led to confusion in Michael’s head and had given some bullshit excuse about military family habits. Michael didn’t push the issue but a few days later in that same tool shed, a breathy little Michael became his favorite sound in the world.

Over the next decade no matter how hard Michael tried to bliss him out to the point of losing every last one of his military habits, Alex only said it three more times. On a cold night spent in the back of his truck, losing themselves in each other until the sun rose signaling the day Alex would leave for Afghanistan. During the one and only time Michael ever attempted a romantic gesture, making the five hour trip to Dyess to surprise Alex on his birthday only to be fucked in the alley behind a bar and sent on his way back to Roswell.

The last time he heard it was that first night they were together again after Alex came home, when Michael ran his gnarled fingers over the sensitive skin of Alex’s stump with nothing but love and acceptance, and Michael was full of hope for the first time in ten years, ready to throw everything away if only Alex would keep saying his name like it was precious, like Michael was something special.

Now they’re friends, friends who don’t have sex, and he is back to being nothing more than Guerin. So he really can’t be held responsible for what happens.

“Michael, hurry up, I’m not losing to these idiots!”

Max and Liz’s cries of indignation are drowned out by the crashing of the newly purchased round of drinks slipping out of Michael’s fingers. Distantly he hears Maria cursing him out but his entire being is focused on Alex sitting at their table in oblivious confusion.

Isobel is out of her seat like lightning, concerned hands shaking him from his stupor. His eyes don’t leave Alex but his tongue loosens enough to prove he’s not having a stroke. “You called me Michael.”

“He does know that’s his name right?”

“Shut up, Kyle.”

Recognition sparks in Alex’s eyes but before he can make excuses or brush it off, Maria runs the yellow mop bucket into Michael’s leg, hard.

“Clean it up, Guerin.” She stomps away and Isobel follows her probably in search of an angry makeout session in the storeroom. Those two aren’t fooling anybody.

Michael gets to work and does his best to ignore the curious gazes of his friends as well as half the bar. Heat rises in his cheeks despite his best efforts. When he’s done he wheels the mop towards the back just in time to see Isobel exit the storeroom looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Your lipstick’s smudged.” He grins at the cheeky wink she throws over her shoulder glad that she is finding some happiness for herself these days.

A minute later, Maria exits the closet, hair mussed and eyes a little dazed. They go wide when she sees him standing there. Without comment, he pushes the mop towards her and she yanks it back with a bit too much force.

“You’re paying for those glasses.” He winces under her steely glare but nods in agreement. She tilts her head to the side, face softening into something friendlier. “You want to talk about it?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back onto his heels, hoping that the hallway is too dark for her to notice his blush returning. “It was stupid. He just surprised me s’all.”

“Surprised by what? That Alex needed your help in trivia?” She seems truly baffled and Michael is tempted to just say yes.

“He said Michael. I half expected that after ten years he was too ashamed to admit he didn’t know my name.” The chuckle that forced itself from his throat around the lie is pitiful at best and Maria only looks more confused.

“What are you talking about? He calls you Michael all the time.” She moves to return the mop to the broom closet and he follows her.

“No he doesn’t.” Four times in intensely private moments does not constitute ‘all the time’ by any stretch of the imagination.

Maria closes the closet door and leans her shoulder against it, staring up at him with the look she gets when she’s doing a reading. Fortunately, she told him a long time ago that he was impossible to get a read on. She whips her phone out of her back pocket and sends a quick text, shushing Michael when he tries to ask what she’s doing.

Kyle rounds the corner a moment later. He approaches them with raised eyebrows and a smirk. “You rang?”

Maria gets right to it. “Have you ever heard Alex call him Michael?”

“Yes.” He drags the single syllable out obnoxiously as if the answer were obvious. “Seriously, dude, did you forget your name? You haven’t even had that much to drink.”

Michael is completely bewildered by this conversation. Kyle’s right, he’s only had the one beer but he feels like he’s having an out of body experience.

“He’s really never called you by your first name to your face?” Maria sounds almost wounded by this notion.

Not unless he’s inside me. Michael has more sense than to say that out loud so he just shakes his head.

“That’s rough, man.” Michael rolls his eyes and shoves past Kyle, going back out into the noisy bar.

Across the room his friends are laughing, teasing each other over wrong answers and trying to trip each other up. Alex sits stiffly in his chair; an island of tension in their sea of fun. He glances back towards where Michael is standing and their eyes meet, locking onto each other. Michael’s breath catches the tiniest bit and he hates himself. He steels himself and walks back to the table with his head held high.

“I think I’m gonna head out.” He flashes a smile that he hopes is convincing and avoids Alex’s gaze that he can feel crawling over his skin. “Before I owe Deluca for any more glasses.”

There is a chorus of goodbyes as everyone continues their own conversations. Michael grabs his jacket and moves swiftly towards the exit.

“Guerin, wait!” Michael stops in the middle of the Pony’s parking lot, hanging his head and wishing that he was capable of just walking away. He turns slowly, swallowing the bitter taste of harsh reality.

Alex is standing closer than he’d anticipated and suddenly Michael wishes he’d brought his hat so he could conceal his face from the too bright street lamps before it can give too much away.

Alex’s tentative smile is enough to stop him from biting his tongue. “So it’s Guerin again?” He doesn’t know why he is getting so worked up about this. Some mixture of embarrassment and his inability to stop loving the man in front of him no doubt.

Alex exhales a slow breath like he’s preparing for something arduous and takes a step closer. Again, before he can say anything, Michael plunges ahead.

“Because according to Deluca and Valenti you have no problem saying my name. So why is it you only seem to remember it when we’re having sex or I’m not there at all?”

Alex looks like he’s trying hard not to scream and Michael knows he’s being a dick, but Alex is the one who followed him out here so he doesn’t feel too badly about it. He should probably just turn around and go home, forget this ever happened.

“It was the last barrier I had.” At the first sign of retreat Alex is dragging him back to the front line. “Saying your name just seemed, I don’t know, too intimate? I couldn’t say it when I wasn’t ready to go all in, it felt like I was leaving myself unprotected. But I’ve always known your name, Michael.”

Michael is a genius so even when Alex renders him dumb, he’s still fairly smart. His brain works to connect the dots while the echoing of his heartbeat drowns everything else out.

He couldn’t say it when he wasn’t ready to go in, but he’s saying it now.

Michael takes a half step closer until he can reach out and grab his hands. He doesn’t say anything, staring straight into Alex’s eyes waiting for any sign that he’s misread the situation. Alex’s gaze flickers down to his mouth in a move that Michael hasn’t seen in far too long. He has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep his grin under control.

“Do you wanna go out to dinner on Friday? With me? On a date?” He’s leaving no room for miscommunication on this.

Alex looks shocked, but pleasantly so. He twines their fingers together and Michael is mesmerized by the way his face lights up, smile growing slowly. “I’d love to.”

Michael lifts his eyebrows expectantly. He’s waited so long, he wants to hear it again and again and again.

Alex rolls his eyes but uses their joined hands to tug Michael until they’re pressed chest to chest, lips inches apart. “I’d love to, Michael.”

#bestillmyslashyheart #my fic #prompts #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #i loved this prompt so much #i’m such a ho for michael ‘say my name’ guerin

[madamsixx]

Beyond The Leather Chapter 26: Sight Seeing In London

February 16th, 1986

I listened back stage as the girls all ran one by one to poke their heads out of the curtain. I started wondering what was going on. I walked towards the curtain and heard them fawning over some guy who was sitting in the audience.

"Hey Mel who are the girls looking at?" I asked with curiosity.

"Take a look for your self. He's so fucking hot." She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the curtain to look.

What the hell the girls are staring at Vince! I popped my head back in and shook my head. Girls and Vince Neil. I was happy though that he kept his word and came. Last night I went to Motley's last show in London. It was very fun I enjoyed my self. It was time for us to start our cat walk.

I came out of the curtain and strutted down the runway. I side eyed Vince and sent him alittle wink while walking. I turned and posed then walked back. Today I was feeling good and I felt like nothing could bring me down.

After the show I got dressed and came out to meet Vince.

"Soooo how did you like the show?" I asked.

"Well I liked the models, I could care less about the show." He laughed. "I think I slept when the guy was talking and woke back up when the girls started coming out."

"Seriously Vince." I slapped his arm. I turned around to see all the girls looking at me and Vince. "Listen I'm going to introduce you to them. But no dirty buissness." I warned him.

After I introduced Vince to the girls, he headed back to the hotel and I headed to the reception. The limo dropped us off back at the hotel. The girls wanted to have a little fun at the hotel restaurant. I was down for some fun but I wanted to call home first. I headed up to my room, when I got out of the elevator Nikki was standing by my door with a big side bag.

I wonder what he wanted? I walked towards my door slowly watching him. He looked really sad.

"H...how was the fashion show?" He asked almost whispering.

"Good." I say cossing my arms.

He nodded his head and put his hands in his pockets. "I um...I know were not on good terms but this is my last day in London. I was hoping I could take you out?"

I wasn't in the mood to hang around him. After that argument we got into and finding out that Nikki shoots up drugs, I just felt like I wanted to enjoy the rest of my night drama free. Because in truth since he has been here there has been nothing but problems between us.

"I don't think that's a good idea Nikki." I say walking passed him. "I'm hanging out with my air head models tonight." I say unlocking my door.

He chuckled and rubbed his hand through his hair. "You may not beleive me when I say this because I have said it to you so much." He says blocking me from going in. "But I am sorry, I'm a fuck up and I don't mean to be. But I am."

I'm trying to not look at his face he just looks so sad and it's killing me.

"Mani." He calls me while grabbing my jaw for me to look at him. "I need to take you out tonight. Please." He Softly speaks. "It's my last day here. Please." He pleaded again.

"Where would we go?" I sigh.

He smirks at me. "Some where that will require you to bring a big coat." _____

We got into a limo and it pulled us into a secluded parking lot. I looked out the window and saw a huge bus. The limo stopped and I opened the door and saw the tour bus. I can't believe he still booked it. I wanted to tour London so bad on this bus.

"Nikki I can't believe you still did this." I said excitedly.

"And we have the whole bus to our selves." He grabbed my hand pulling me towards the bus.

"Hello Mr. Sixx and Miss. Darlington let me help you on the bus. The tour guide stuck his hand for me to take helping me get on the bus.

I climbed aboard all the way to the top. It was a cold night. Good thing he told me to bring a big coat. But I could care less about that. The fact that he still went out of his way to do this, considering our argument made me push all those thoughts about us not hanging around each other away. I sat in the front seat and he scooted in beside me.

"Ok so our first stop is going to be the Clock Tower." The tour guide said.

The bus started moving and I was all smiles. "Nikki I'm so happy thank you!" I giggled.

"Well I did have a day off so I figured why not plan something." He smiled at me.

"When did you book this? Was it in the morning?"

"Yeah I did. Actually Cheap Trick's Rick Nielson introduced Tommy and me to one of Tommy's favourite drummers, Roger Taylor of Queen." He explained.

"Oh wow, Tommy must have been excited.

"Yeah he was. Well Roger takes us and Cheap Trick singer Robin Zander to this Russian restaurant in London we drank infused vodka and dined. I asked Rick where he would take a pissed off girl to make her happy on a tour bus. And he told me about these special places to go."

"Aww Nikki." I hugged him. "Well it worked cause I'm not pissed off any more." I nudged him.

"And here we are at the Clock Tower." Our talking was interrupted by the tour guide. "Big Ben is the nickname for the Great Bell of the striking clock at the north end of the Palace of Westminster in London and is usually extended to refer to both the clock and the clock tower. The tower was designed by Augustus Pugin in a neo-Gothic style. When completed in 1859, its clock was the largest and most accurate four-faced striking and chiming clock in the world. The tower stands 315 feet 96 m tall, and the climb from ground level to the belfry is 334 steps. Its base is square, measuring 39 feet 12 m on each side. Dials of the clock are 23 feet 7.0 m in diameter.

"Oh no I didnt bring a camera." I pouted

"Good thing I did." Nikki grabs his bag and pulls out a Polaroid camera. "Here stand there."

I get up and pose for him. "Now one of me and you." I lean forward to grab him. He gets up and turns the camera to face us and snaps the picture.

"Alright loves next were going to Tower Bridge buckle up love birds it's going to beautiful." He smiled.

I sit back down and me and Nikki look at each other and start laughing like school kids.

"London is so beautiful. Especially at night." I whispered.

"Yes you are." Nikki hums and puts his arm around me.

"So am I not beautiful during the day?" I raise a brow.

"Oh..uh...yes of course." He stutterers.

"I'm messing with you Sixx." I say leaning in and kissing his cheek.

"Here we are Tower Bridge is a combined bascule and suspension bridge in London, built between 1886 and 1894. The bridge crosses the River Thames close to the Tower of London and has become an iconic symbol of London. As a result, it is sometimes confused with London Bridge, about half a mile upstream."

Tower bridge was so beautiful. The lights made everything look like it was pure gold. We drove slowly under the bridge and I honestly just couldn't believe I was here. I got up to look down at the water. It was calm and steady. The lights also made it look gold as well. I heard a snap and turned to face Nikki.

"Mr. Sixx did you just take a picture of me?" I smiled.

"I did princess." He smiles.

"Alright were heading to the next stop!" The tour guide yells again. To be honest he was giving me a headache.

I made sure to tuck every single one of the pictures in Nikkis bag. I was so afraid of loosing them. I wanted to remember this night. We sat back down and he wrapped his whole arms around me.

"Alright and the next place were heading to is the coca cola London eye. You will love this one."

"What do you say we ditch this sucker and go street sight seeing." Nikki whispered in my ear.

"Hell yes!" I laughed.

Once we stopped. I looked up and saw a huge round lighted red circle. It was beautiful. There were blue buildings lit up behind it and boats growing in the water.

"This place is-"

"Hey sorry I have to take a piss." Nikki got up interrupting him. He grabbed my hand and we got off the bus.

"Alright don't be long kids were on a tight schedule." He pointed at his watch.

We walked down towards the coca cola London eye. And I smiled as I walked underneath it. Nikki started snapping pictures of me laughing and giggling.

"Nikki look a fair!" I darted towards where I saw the lights and the ferris wheel.

"Woah Mani slow down." Nikki laughed chasing after me.

"Nikki look at this place. Oh my God we can go on rides, get cotton candy, play games, win prizes." I rambled on and on.

"Hey hey hey come here." He grabbed my hand pulling me towards him. I made a pouty face at Nikki. He sighed, "I'm sorry I sometimes forget that your still really young." He laughed humorously. "You want to go on rides?"

"Yes." I smiled with all teeth showing.

We went on almost all the rides, ate a lot of food, and took a lot of pictures.

"Step right up folks, this game is to test your strength. You have to take the hammer and hit the button as hard as you can. If the meter goes all the way to green you can win this big stuffed bear." The game maker said.

"Oh Nikki look at the bear. It's so cute!" I squealed.

"You want that bear princess?" He looked at me and smiled.

"Yes I do." I leaned on him.

"Woah Nikki Sixx! Wow I'm a big fan!" The game maker shouted.

"Alright princess." Nikki handed the game maker the money and took the hammer. He lifted the hammer behind his head and smashed it down on the button.

"Oooooh sorry Mr. SIxx, better luck next time. Hello sir step right up come try and win your girl a bear." The game maker says while signaling to the next person.

"Thanks, I'm going to win that bear for you sweety." The guy goes to take the hammer from Nikki.

"Fuck off I'm winning that bear for my girl." Nikki yells pulling the hammer away from the guy. He pulls more money out of his pocket and hands it to the game maker.

"Nik it's ok." I laughed nervously placing my hand on my neck while people stared at us.

"Hey ass hole you had your turn already!" The man yelled.

Nikki lifted up the hammer and smashed it again hitting it harder this time. The meter went all the way to green.

"Yay Nikki!" I squealed jumping into his arms and kissing his cheek.

Nikki dropped the hammer and grabbed the bear from the game maker. "Here you go princess." He says handing me the bear. Could this man be any more sweeter.

we leave the fair and catch a cab to head back to the hotel. I open the door and let Nikki inside. I place my bear on the couch and take off my coat and take Nikki's coat to hang it up.

"I only have cranberry juice to drink, you ok with that? I asked Nikki walking to my kitchen.

"Yeah that's fine." He says plopping down on my couch.

I bring him a cup and pour myself a cup as well and sit down across from it.

"Thank you for today I had a really great time Nik. And I love my bear." I smiled and kissed the bear.

"Its no problem doll. I just didn't want to leave things bad between us. I'm sure once we got back to LA you would have probably ignored me."

There was a pause between us for a while. I couldn't read Nikki face, it seemed like he was holding back in wanting to say something to me.

"I need to tell you something." We both said at the same time.

"Oh uh you can go first." He says to me smiling.

"Ok...I um." I put my head down and dry swallowed. "I'm very very sorry for what I did when I was with my friends." I looked back up at him. "It was.. it was very rude of me Nikki. Theres no excuse for my behaviour and you didn't deserve that. I'm very sorry. And I also want to say sorry for my out burst when you came here last time. I hope you can forgive me." I spoke softly.

Nikki got up from where he was sitting and moved the bear so he could sit beside me. He kissed the top of my forehead, "I'll always forgive you." He caressed my cheek. "Mani I." He paused and brushed his hair back. "I really care about you. And you mean the world to me. I want to be your-" "friend!" I inturrupted. He looked startled when I spoke up and said that.

"I want to be your friend too!" I placed my hand on his hand. "I think us going back to hanging out like we did before will be really great. I miss our friendship and the long talks. And I care about you as a friend as well. Your friendship means a lot to me." I smiled and kissed his cheek.

Nikki turned away from me and moved his hand away from mine. He brushed his hair back again. "Ok." He spoke lowly. He then got up, "I'm going to head to my room." He started walking towards my door. I got up and walked behind him. "You don't have to Nik, you can stay here a little longer." I calmly spoke to him.

He just kept walking ignoring me. He opened my door and I grabbed his arm gently to pull him back. I turned him to face me and I cupped his cheeks in my hands and gave him a slow sweet kiss on his lips. He tensed up and wrapped his arms securely around my waist pulling me towards him not wanting to let me go. I pulled away and smiled.

He sighed, "Mani please just-" "tell Rick Nielson I said thank you, for telling you about those beautiful places you took me to. I really enjoyed my self." I caressed his cheek and pulled my body away from him.

He nodded his head then walked out of my room. "You know actually I did thank him." He turns around and looks at me. "I pissed on Rick Nielson's black rubber coat back when we got back to the hotel." He smirks then continues to walk to his room.

I walk back into my room closing the door behind me. I had to do it this way. Nikki shoots up drugs and I can see that he is already addicted to it. That night when Andy brought Nikki to my room. His arms told me the whole story about his lifestyle. And me getting mixed in with that type of life style won't look good. It's not just about my career it's about my well being. I can't take care of a drug addict, I can't have a life with a drug addict, and certainly can't bring home a drug addict. Plus I'm too young for him. I do have feelings for him, but I'm going to have to tuck them away in a dark place. I told him we can be friends but if he calls me up and wants to hang out or do something I'll have to ignore him. My plan is to slowly distance my self from him. I know... I sound like a bitch for saying that. But the reality is who wants to be associated with a junkie?

#motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #thedirt #model #chanel iman #bwwm wmbw

[disasterdeacy]

Moonlight Mother {John Deacon x Reader}

A/N: I legit have no words except I am so sorry to my mother, our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and to John Richard Deacon. Warnings: SIN!!! Y’all, seriously don’t read this if you’re under 18.

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader Time Period: 1981, aka the best era of John Deacon, THANK YOU ROCK MONTREAL

Word Count: 4515 (god)

 John dropped his bag, sighing into his hands as he rubbed his face. The concerts had been absolutely incredible, and he had had a great time, but god he missed his bed; and by bed he meant wife. The two weeks he had been away from Y/N were the worst two weeks of his life, phone calls 3x a day weren’t enough. He needed her, in every way imaginable.

 Before he had left for Canada, he had wanted to tell Y/N that he wanted to try and have a baby. After all, he loved this woman more than he loved being alive, who else would be rather have a family with? However, he hadn’t managed to get the chance to ask her in person before he left, as the two had been rather occupied. He had talked to both Roger and Brian during their time in Canada, asking their advice on how to bring up the subject of children to his young wife.

 His two band mates had only smiled and made jokes about how the two already went at it like two catholic rabbits, and that with his luck she was already pregnant. But John knew that wasn’t true. Two days before he left, he found a negative pregnancy test in the bathroom rubbish bin. He had been a little disheartened by the since pink line, but he also knew that they had plenty of time to have a family, after all Y/N wasn’t even 25 yet, and he was only 30. The thought of being a dad had always made John smile, the possibilities were endless when it came to his future children, and the knowledge that he would be responsible for the next generation of Deacons made him feel more like a man than he had ever felt before.

 When he had been younger, before he met Y/N, John only assumed that the only reason he wanted children was to carry on his name, and pass on his genes to. He had never imagined that there would be this insatiable desire inside of him to put a baby in his wife’s womb. Ever since he had first seen her wide hips and deliciously plump breasts, accentuated by those damn high waisted pants and a turtleneck which was too tight to be comfortable, he couldn’t stop imagining pumping her full of his cum, impregnating her over and over and over again.

 His cock ached at the thought of seeing his beautiful young wife, round and glowing, carrying his child in her womb, a child which his own cock has placed there. It was an image that he had cum to, too many times to count. Especially these last 2 weeks he’d been away, there had been nothing that could keep his cock restrained when it came to the thought of his cum dripping down Y/N’s leg, knowing that he more than likely had just put a baby in her.

 It was a thought that John had to stop himself from having as he walked through the door of your home, according to his watch it was 3:24am, Y/N would definitely be asleep. He sighed, he wanted nothing more than to snuggle in bed behind her, slipping his achingly hard cock in between her ass cheeks to wake her, before he would pound her poor little pussy into oblivion. However, he knew that the two of them needed to have a talk about it before he just went and got her pregnant. It wasn’t just him he had to think about, he loved his wife, and he wanted Y/N to be the one to decide when they had children. After all, he was just the sperm donor, she was the one who had to do all of the heavy lifting throughout the pregnancy.

 Little did John know, Y/N had been having the same thoughts. Ever since her and John had met, she knew that she wanted to have his children, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. John was the sweetest man she had ever met, he was loving, kind, caring, funny, and insanely attractive. She loved him with every fiber of her being, and without him, she knew that she wouldn’t be half the woman she was today. So, when her period was a few days late before John was due to go to Montreal, she was ecstatic.

The young woman had waited for John to leave for rehearsal, before she rushed down to the corner store and purchased a single home pregnancy test. When she returned home she wasted absolutely no time before taking the test, so when it came back negative and her period came only a few hours later, she was slightly upset. Although she knew that she and John had all the time in the world, she couldn’t get over the way the possibility of being pregnant with John’s child made her feel.

 She had never wanted children before meeting John, and now here she was, masturbating every night to the mere thought of John’s cock spilling a baby into her womb. It was the single hottest fantasy she could imagine, and all she wanted was to feel her husband’s cum fill her up, she wanted it to stay inside of her all day, running down her legs whenever she attempted to walk. Y/N had gone to sleep the night before John was due to come home, in nothing but one of John’s oversized T shirts, knowing it would drive him absolutely wild when he walked into their shared room. Her pussy was dripping when she went to bed, the mere thought of John impregnating her enough.

   John had managed to completely strip down to nothing but his boxers by the time he made his way to him and his wife’s bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing leading from the front door, all the way to their bedroom door. He knew he would get an ear full about it in the morning, but at this particular moment in time, he did not give two shits. All he wanted to do at this very moment was girl up next to his gorgeous wife, and sleep for hours. Well, that wasn’t ALL he wanted, but he that would be all he would be allowed to do until morning came. However, when he quietly entered the room, the sight before him took his breath away.

 His young wife was asleep atop the covers, dressed in only one of his many oversized shirts. While they were usually quite large on him, his wife’s curves filled out every one of his shirts better than any supermodel could ever hope to fill out a dress on the runway. Her long legs were bent at the knee, one crossed atop the other, giving him a perfect view of her ass, an ass that he had so often imagined while away. He shuddered at the sight of his wife, so angelic, and yet so devilish. His cock was even harder than it had been when he walked through the door, pressing against the constraints of his boxers, begging to be set free. John moaned as he felt the extremely sensitive tip of his clock rub against the cotton material, he knew that he couldn’t sleep like this. Conversation be damned, he needed to be buried balls deep in his wife’s tight pussy. He needed to fuck Y/N, and he needed to fuck her now.

Running a hand through his curly hair, John Deacon all bit ran across the room to the bed which his sleeping wife occupied, her figure unmoving. He slipped in bed behind her, wrapping a toned arm around middle, pulling her backside flush against him. He groaned at the feeling of his cock on her ass, it was almost unbearable. The sudden movement caused Y/N to stir, her sleepy eyes opening only slightly, adjusting to the moonlight filled room.

At first she didn’t know what was going on, but as soon as she woke slightly, she felt the all to familiar feeling of her husband’s arm around her middle, and the even more familiar feeling of his pulsing cock pressed into her backside. Y/N smirked and began grinding her ass into the metal like rod of a penis her husband was pressing against her, knowing that this always managed to get a response from the man. And what a response it was.

 “You saucy little minx, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now? What you’ve been doing to me for the past 2 weeks?”

John’s voice was deeper than Y/N had ever heard it, and the feeling of his hot breath against her neck caused her to moan like a wanton slut. She couldn’t take nor facing him anymore, so she flipped around to face John, taking his right hand into her own.

“I can feel exactly what I’ve been doing to you, would you like to feel what you’ve been doing to me?”

John was staring her straight in the eyes, the moonlight showing her that his pupils were blown, making his grey eyes seem almost black in the darkness. Her words had somehow made his cock even harder that it had been before, and he could feel the precum leaking from it like a faucet that just wasn’t turned off properly. What happened next, John wasn’t expecting at all, but knowing his wife, definitely should have been.

 Upon seizing John’s right hand, Y/N latched her mouth onto her husband’s, slipping her tongue into his as she also slid his fingers into her soaking wet pussy. John moaned louder than she was used to, the vibrations from his throat reverberating through her own. His fingers soon went to work, coating themselves in his wife’s wetness, which wasn’t seeming like it was ever going to stop.

 “God John! I’ve missed the way you make me feel.”

Y/N moaned out into John’s mouth, her hands clutching at his curly locks, God she loved this hairstyle on him. His fingers had gone straight into her soaking pussy, 4 fingers were completely buried inside his wife, curling so he could find that special spot that always made Y/N cum hard and fast. His thumb was perfectly perched on the little bundle of nerves at the top of her gorgeous mound, rubbing lazy circles around it, his pace making Y/N feel as though he was killing her in the beat way possible.

 John loved playing with his wife’s pussy, it was one of his favorite things in the world. Feeling the way she clenched and released around his fingers, depending on just how fast he was pounding, or how slight his fingers were curling. However, as much as he loved their usual foreplay games, tonight, John simply wanted to pound his wife into the mattress with the fury of 1,000 gods.

Just as Y/N was nearing her release, mouth wide, eyes clenched shut from the sheer weight of the pleasure John was giving her, he removed his fingers from her, bringing them up to his mouth to clean.

The loss of the full feeling caused Y/N to groan unhappily, however when she saw John greedily lapping at her wetness on his fingers, her annoyance turned to unbridled lust. Before she even knew what she was doing, she had climbed atop John, straddling his waist as she attached her mouth to his neck, biting and kissing every inch she could. John was speechless, his cock pinned between his wife’s bare thighs and his own stomach. He was in absolute heaven, his wife’s gorgeous mouth marking him as her’s, something they both loved to do to one another.

When the pressure on his cock became too much, John gently took hold of Y/N’s face, pulling her from his neck to look him in the eyes. The two lovers stared at one another, love and adoration seemingly poured from every pore on their bodies.

“I love you so much my darling, more than you know.” John couldn’t help but allow the words to flow from his mouth as he cupped Y/N’s cheek, pulling her towards him to place a single kiss to the top of her head.

This woman sat atop him was the only person in the entire world who truly understood and loved him, completely and selflessly. All sexual motives aside, there was no woman alive that he would rather be given the honor to call the mother of his children.

After John’s display of love, Y/N simply couldn’t wait any longer. Reaching between herself and John, she quickly lined her husband’s throbbing cock up against her and before John knew what was happening, his cock was completely enveloped by his wife’s waiting heat. He groaned at the feeling, sitting up in the bed and wrapping his arms around Y/N, bringing her towards him, burying his face in her ample chest. “Fuck Y/N, you feel so good.” John gasped into his wife’s chest, his arms tightening around her waist as she rode him slowly, taking his cock completely inside of her. Y/N threw her head back in ecstasy, the feeling of her husband’s cock filling her up completely after two weeks apart almost too much for her to handle. John felt the same way, whenever Y/N took the reigns and rode him, he could never hold himself together for long. He didn’t want that tonight. John wanted to take his wife hard, and for as long as possible. He wanted to savor this moment, he wanted to make his wife cum as many times as possible before he completely filled her to the brim with his cum, hopefully putting a baby in her beautiful belly. Y/N’s soft moans were only egging him on, causing his cock to grow even more inside of her, her wetness running down the throbbing length, dripping down his taunt balls, onto the sheet below them. “God, John, I’ve missed you so much, my fingers could never make me feel this way.” Y/N grabbed hold of John’s head, bringing his lips to her’s, biting his bottom lip, hoping this would cause a reaction. To most people, John wasn’t exactly seen as a sex go, most people would be incorrect. While John’s sweet and loving side usually dominated their everyday life, behind closed doors, John was an absolute deviant. He was rough, dominating, and oh so good. Y/N had been surprised the first time John had let that side of him show, she couldn’t walk for almost 2 days afterwards; the whole time she was in bed, John never left her side, running her bath after bath, massaging her when she asked, and placing soft kisses along her entire body. Since then, things had only gotten better. Of course the two of them didn’t have aggressive sex every night, sometimes John wanted Y/N to take control, to be soft, loving, and to simply make love. Tonight wasn’t that night though.

After being apart for two weeks, their thoughts running rampant with images of swollen bellies, throbbing cocks leaking with cum, and shaking thighs, neither John nor Y/N wanted soft and gentle. John groaned into Y/N’s mouth at the feeling of her teeth against his bottom lip, if she wanted to play that game, he would play. Y/N soon got the answer to her unasked question when John quickly pulled out of her, flipping the two of them so her back was pressed against the mattress. She moaned at the feeling of John’s roughness, looking into his eyes, pupils blow. He looked like a madman, his eyes wild and hungry, mouth agape, spit running from his lips onto her chest. Y/N reached up to grab onto his curly hair, hoping to bring him to her neck so he could mark her as his, she fucking loved when he did that. She loved showing the world who she belonged to, and John loved it just as much as she did. However, John had other plans.

Just as Y/N went run her fingers through his hair, John grabbed her wrists in his hands, forcing them to the bed above her. “No ma’am, tonight, you listen to me. You do what I tell you, you don’t speak, you just listen.” John’s last word was drawn out, almost a breathless moan, as he leaned forward to take the lobe of her ear into his mouth, gently biting it, his breath hot and wet on Y/N’s neck. “John..” “No. If you talk, you don’t get to cum. If you speak, I’ll leave you here, soaking wet and pleading for release. I’ll tie you to the bed, and sleep in the guest room, screaming out as I cum on my stomach thinking of your pretty little mouth and gorgeous pussy. Understood?” Y/N clenched her eyes shut as John pressed a single, calloused finger inside of her, moaning and nodding in agreement with her husband.

She needed this, she needed him inside of her, more than she needed air. John seemed satisfied with his wife’s answer, grinning into her neck as he placed a single kiss against the junction between her jaw and ear. “Look what you’ve done to be baby, look at how much my cock needs you.” He sat up slightly, taking his cock into his hand. Y/N sat up on her elbows to get a better look at her husband, and what she saw made her whine. John’s cock was red, throbbing with anticipation, his cock head was nearly purple with need, precum seeping out of it nonstop, coating his hand as he rubbed a single finger along his slit. He knew exactly what he was doing to his wife, and he didn’t even have to look at her sopping wet center to know that. Y/N had her bottom lip completely inside of her mouth, teeth biting down hard enough that he was sure she would bring blood. John released his cock, making sure his fingers were coated in his own arousal. “It looks like I’ve made a bit of a mess darling, could you help me?” Y/N knew exactly what John wanted, so she nodded like the good girl she was, and John stuck four of his completely saturated fingers inside of her waiting mouth. She moaned at the taste of her husband’s precum, sucking his fingers while swirling her tongue around the tips, her eyes meeting his own, before closing them to savor his taste. The sound of his wife’s delicate moans, accompanied by the feeling of her mouth around his fingers, sucking his precum off of his fingers like a good little slut, was too much for John to handle. He pulled his fingers from her mouth, and before Y/N even had time to comprehend what was happening, John had buried himself deep inside of her once more. Y/N gasped at the sudden intrusion, throwing her head back, giving John full access to her neck, which he soon took complete advantage of. John was viciously fucking her now, his cock drilling into her at a speed that she had previously never seen John move. Y/N was gasping for breath, her arms clinging to John to keep herself grounded. John had his head resting against her’s, his arms on either side of her body to keep himself from crushing her. “God Y/N, I want to fuck a baby into you.” The words had fallen from his mouth before he even knew what had happened, he didn’t know why he said it, he hadn’t been planning on even bringing up his fantasy until they had spoken about their wishes fully, but the feeling of Y/N’s muscles clenching around his cock coupled with her fingernails digging into his back muscles just made the words he had been bursting to speak spill out.

Once he realized what he had done, John halted his movements, lifting his head from Y/N’s, and looking into her eyes, worried at what he might see. He stared into her eyes for a beat, his mouth wide, ready to apologize, his previous demeanor gone, replaced by the John everyone was used to seeing. However, just as he opened his mouth to speak, he closed it as he felt his wife’s pussy clamp down around his cock. Y/N couldn’t help it, the words that had come from her husband’s mouth had affected her in a way she hadn’t expected. “You want to fuck a baby in me?” Y/N didn’t even care about John’s previous threat, she needed to hear it again. John looked down at you, his eyes wide. “Uh, I, I’m.” He couldn’t stop stuttering, he didn’t want to freak Y/N out, it was a pretty intense statement. “Because, I want you to fuck a baby into me John. I want you to fuck me hard until you cum as deep inside of my womb.” Y/N leaned up, taking John by the back of his head, pulling his mouth to hers. John groaned loudly at his wife’s words, taking her by the back of the head, crushing his mouth to her own. “You want me to cum deep inside of you baby? You want me to fuck you until your womb is absolutely filled with my cum?” All Y/N could do was nod and scream out John’s name as he ferociously fucked her, his cock finding that special spot deep inside of her body that always made her cum harder than she ever imagined possible. “I’m going to fuck you every night until your poor little pussy is absolutely demolished. My cum is going to be leaking from you until your belly is swollen with our baby.” John had his hands on their headboard now, anchoring himself so he could fuck Y/N harder and faster than he ever had, spurred on by the image of Y/N in this exact same position, her womb full with the life of his child. “God, John, I’m so close love!” Y/N couldn’t hold back anymore, John hitting that same spot over and over, the thought of his cum filling her up until she got pregnant, the feral look in his eyes, all coupled together with the fact that she hadn’t had him in two weeks, was too much to handle. Seeing how close his wife was, and knowing he wouldn’t be far behind her, John removed his hands from the headboard and lifted her legs over his shoulders, allowing for his cock to go deeper than he thought possible. “Fuck, Fuck! John!” Y/N arched her back, a pleasure far more intense than anything she had ever felt before washing over her entire body. Feeling Y/N losing herself underneath him, her walls clenching him like a vice, John came, a scream caught in his throat. He could feel stream after stream of cum bursting from his cock, imbedding itself deep in his wife, it just didn’t seem to end. Y/N was still recovering from her own orgasm when she felt her husband lose himself inside of her, the warmth of his cum erupting from his cock filling her. She couldn’t believe just how much cum was spilling from her husband, his cock was still twitching inside of her and she could feel his cum leaking out of her vagina. Once the aftershocks of his orgasm had ceased, and he could think straight once again, he gently moved Y/N’s legs down from off of his shoulders, making sure to keep his cock buried deep inside her core, wanting to keep his cum inside of her for as long as possible. He didn’t know if that would increase their chances of getting pregnant, but it felt right. John was absolutely spent, he had never had an orgasm that intense, and he had never fucked anyone as aggressively as he had just fucked Y/N. Y/N was running her fingers through his hair as he laid his head on her breasts, still breathing as heavily as she had been before John had finished. “Did you mean it John?” She placed a kiss to the top of his sweaty head, her hands running up and down his back. She desperately hoped that he did, and it wasn’t something that he had just mentioned in the midst of sex. John raised his head from Y/N’s chest, a sleepy smile on his face. “Of course I meant it love, I’ve been thinking about it ever since I met you. I mean, just think about how gorgeous our children would be.” John began ticking Y/N’s sides, laughing as she shrieked. She began laughing, struggling against his fingers. “John! Be serious love. You’re ready?” Y/N grabbed John’s hands, bringing them to her mouth to place small kisses on the knuckles. John’s eyes softened as he felt his wife’s lips against his hand, this wasn’t how he had planned this conversation to go. He sighed and regrettably pulled out of Y/N wincing at the loss of warmth, sitting up, he pulled Y/N up with him as well, waiting until the two of them were sat in front of each other, legs crossed. John took Y/N’s hands back into his own, before speaking.

“Y/N, love, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. From the moment I met you, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, and there is no woman who I would rather have be the mother of my children. You’re kind, loving, hilarious, and I wasn’t joking when I said that our children would be beautiful.” Y/N laughed at John, of course he would be the sweetest human being alive after pounding her poor body into oblivion. Y/N grabbed hold of John’s shoulders, pulling him towards her until the two were lying against the bed once more, John curled into her side. She smiled down at him, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Well, I would be honored to be the mother of your children John Richard Deacon.” John’s eyes began to water as he looked up at Y/N, he had never felt a love so strongly before. “I love you so much Y/N, more than you could ever know.” John had tears running down his cheeks as he reached up and kissed his wife, cupping her face in his hands. “Well, I should hope so John, after all, I am going to be the mother of your children.” Y/N’s seemingly sweet and innocent comment greatly affected John, his cock becoming hard once more at the thought of his wife carrying his child. Y/N rose her eyebrows at the sudden feeling of her husband’s hard cock pressed against her side. “Already John, really?” She couldn’t help but laugh as he blushed a deep red. “Well love, like I said, I won’t rest until you’re swollen with our child.” John had climbed back on top of her at this point, smiling down at Y/N as she rolled her eyes. “Then you’d better get to it Mr. Deacon.” John grinned and flipped them over so she was on top of him. “With pleasure Mrs. Deacon”

  @itsametaphorbriansblog @deakysgirl @localspacegod @greenie-frog @carlquesarito @deaky-dandelion @fearless2beme @spookyfrances @annas-unicorun @shy-deacy

#oh man wow i am sweating #i did this instead of working on my crime scene report #lol #hope i did yall proud lolll #john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine #queen #bohemian rhapsody #joe mazzello #brian may #roger taylor #gwilym lee #ben hardy #my writing #fanfiction

[fairyscribbles]

Threats. (XIUMIN VAMPIRE AU.) 1/2

Hello dears! I have found this gem from my AFF account, so I hope you will enjoy it! 

!WARNING!: Contains mention of rape, bullying and drugs. If this is uncomfortable for you to read, please refrain from doing so when the party scene starts!

-

With a shaky hand, you threw in another quarter. Your other one held up the local newspaper with the numerous ads circled with a red marker. Most of them were by now crossed out with a black pen.

"Hello?"

"Oh, h-hello, my name is ___?" your voice spoke with insecurity as you hoped your best you wouldn't cry. You were a college student, and college students do not cry, dammit!

"I'm sorry for bothering you, but I saw your ad in the paper about you renting a room?" 

"Oh, oh dear, I'm sorry, but we already rented it out." you fell silent for a second, eyes closing tight to prevent the tears from leaking. This was a bad dream. This wasn't happening.

You came into this town to study at its local college. It was a very good one that you got full scholarship to and so you took the chance, not caring how far it was from your home, your parents, the things you knew and loved. You tried your best to be optimistic about it- smiling widely when saying your goodbye to your parents, promising them that you'll take care of yourself and that you won't do anything stupid and that if there was any problem, you would call them straight away.  You broke that promise when your dorm suddenly rejected you, leaving you on the street with one feeble suitcase of clothing and misty eyes. It wasn't supposed to be that way. You were supposed to have an awesome roommate and have a great time at the dorm, not this crap. Not because apparently a daughter of one of the biggest sponsors of the school decided she wanted a room just for herself and that way she shut you out. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair a single bit.

"Darling?" the voice of the elderly lady snapped you from your thoughts and you barely bit back the sob that threatened to escape your lips.

"O-oh, I'm sorry, I just...got lost in thoughts. Thank you anyways."

"You're welcome, love. Good luck on room hunting." you choked a broken thank you before letting the old lady hang up first. You took out part of your anger on the phone booth, slamming down the speaker as hard as your shaky hand could. With no hotels in the proximity of the town, you were doomed to go through the night on the streets and there was no way you wanted to experience that.

Fuck this. Seriously fuck this shit.

A voice cleared itself behind you, making you jump.

"I apologize for eavesdropping...but are you okay?" you turned around to look at the man who just struck up a conversation with you. He almost looked younger than you, with his round baby face (which still mysteriously was able to sport sharp jawlines), big brown eyes and a small, gentle smile. His hair was spiked up and he was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt, an attire so simple it was attractive. You realized how horrible you must look and so you hastily wiped at your tears.

"Ah, well, um...I guess not really?" you forced a small chuckle out of you after the stranger‘s sympathetic smile.

"I just started out college here, and this is my first day here, and for some reason, I was kicked out of the dorm." your voice started shaking and he cocked his head to the side, listening intently.

"And I'm not from around here and so I have virtually nowhere to go...I tried to find some room for rent, where I could stay, but all of the ads are either too expensive or are already taken." you waved your hand over to the side where you left the newspaper.

"And I almost called all of the numbers by now, so I am seriously... Lost?" you couldn't prevent the last sob from tearing from your throat and there was a lot more where it came from. You were seriously tired- exhausted from the long trip, furious at the school, scared because of the rich girl who literally chased you out of your own dorm room and just about 300% done with life.

"Hey, don't cry. Come on, it's really not cool for a pretty girl like you to cry." the stranger tried to calm you down, rubbing your shoulder with care. Your bawls lessened to hiccups after a while of the man's soothing words and your own set of breathing exercises. 

"My name is Minseok." he introduced himself after your cries died down and he was able to pull you into the closest Starbucks, ordering you coffee. You nodded in acknowledgement, sipping in your drink.

"I'm ___. Nice to meet you, Minseok-ssi." his hand reached out from across the table- hardened, pale hand you noted as you shook it firmly. 

"I'm really sorry that you had to have such a crappy day at college. If it calms you, though, when it was my first day of school, not that I came late- as I was rushing to class, I accidentally bumped into my teacher and he fell. I didn't realize it was him only until after he came into the classroom. Made my class hell for me." at the visual imagination you chuckled. It also made you think how old Minseok is, when he already got through college- he looked no older than you. 

You also noticed how people acted to you once they saw you with Minseok- normally you would have to elbow your way through the crowd while when with Minseok, they naturally moved away. The Barista also moved faster when he ordered the coffee you wanted. Minseok had a natural air of superiority around him, you noticed that now.

"I can help you out, you know." he told you suddenly as you sipped on your drink, making yourself burn on your coffee.

"What? You can?" you asked once you cleared your mouth of the hot coffee. Minseok nodded, taking a sip from his own drink.

"I saw you look for a room earlier today, and I happen to have a room empty." he paused, smiling and tapping the newspaper between you. He tapped the number that you were about to dial.

"I actually put an ad in the papers." you couldn't believe you ears. This man was looking for someone to rent out a room for?

"If you'd like, I can show you the place." Your mom did warn you about not going with attractive looking boys to their homes, but you had no choice- you were practically homeless, with your suitcase by your feet and hundreds of miles away from home. Minseok was the only person who actually answered to your inquiry about a room rental.

A smile graced your lips as you swallowed your coffee.

„I would love to.“

-

The ride in Minseok’s car was a quick one- he had a very pretty car for being someone as young as he is. The question just how old Minseok is was burning in the back of your throat, but you decided to not ask, just trying to map out the neighborhood Minseok turned into. You were pretty sure you still weren’t at Minseok’s place, because it was full out beautiful old houses, looking out of this league. You felt as if you teleported back sixty years, back to the age of white-picket fences and many story buildings and big back yards and then Minseok pulled into one of the largest one around. The big white house had three floors, with large windows and a beautiful sun porch where you could already picture yourself eating breakfast in the morning or study in the afternoon and oh my god, you never knew you could fall in love with a building, but you just did.

Your love was a tragic one, though, because with the size of the house, you were sure you would never be able to afford even the attic corner.  It was too far out of your price range.

In your daze, you never noticed Minseok coming out of the car and going over to your side, opening your door and reaching out for you. You thanked him with a nodding of your head and came out, eyes still stuck to the beautiful house.

“As you can see, the house’s kind of big for only one person.“ Minseok explained, scratching the back of his head nervously. It was almost cute.

“You’re the only one who lives here?“  which automatically meant he is the one paying for everything. He really must have rich parents, or else what kind of job does this kid have? Minseok hummed as an affirmation, locking the car and stuffing the keys in his pants.

“I lived with five other guys, but they found...girlfriends and they moved in with them.“

“So they abandoned you?“ you asked with a false shock and Minseok chuckled.

“You can say that. So...would you like to see the inside?“ he took the suitcase from your hand so you wouldn’t have to lug it around and headed out first, looking back at you with that most charming smile of his that made your stomach flutter with pretty feelings. Pretty quickly, you were aware that soon enough you wouldn‘t want to take to room because you had to, but because it meant you would be living with him.

The house was magnificent. When you first walked through the door, you found yourself in a big hallway with a large staircase on the right side, going upstairs. There was a room on the left- living room, Minseok informed you as you peeked in at the large leather couch in front of the TV, few bookcases filled with books and another door leading to what it looked like a kitchen.

"There's a living room, kitchen and a bathroom downstairs." Minseok informed you, pointing in the general direction of said rooms.

"The bedrooms are upstairs." and with an extended hand, he invited you to look there as well. You smiled at him, reaching down to take off your shoes.

"Oh, you don’t have to." Minseok stopped you.

"The floor is too cold to be walking around barefoot." he told you, taking the heavy backpack off you and setting it gently on the first step of the stairs. You thanked him, beginning your ascend up the old wooden steps which creaked at every movement. You were taken aback at the fact that Minseok didn't make any noise while going up, following you silently like your own shadow. Upstairs, there was a long hall with doors on either side. You quickly counted them in your head and came to the number 5.

"There are four bedrooms and one bathroom, for which I apologize." Minseok said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

"It is an old house, after all." you followed Minseok down the hall to the biggest door at the end of the hall.

"This is my room. If you'll ever need anything, I’ll most probably be here." he chuckled under his breath.

"I love my sleep." you smiled at his comment catching his look for a short second before breaking eye-contact. There was something about Minseok that had you blushing as a little schoolgirl, yet you couldn't quite grasp what it was, or why. Minseok was moving again, away from his room and to the next door.

"This will be your room." the wooden door opened and your jaw fell. The room was enormous, a lot bigger than the dorm room you were supposed to live in. The center of the room was the big wooden bed with white sheets and billowy pillows. The room wasn't richly decorated. The only furniture in the room was the chest of drawers, a wardrobe, the bed and a desk in front of the window with a chair and a small lamp.

"I know it's not much..." Minseok said from behind you and you turned to look at him, mouth agape.

"Are you kidding me? It's beautiful." and too expensive, you already saw. The furniture was antique, there's no way you can save up enough money to rent out the room for a month, let alone long enough for your dorm problems to be settled.

"It's really perfect, but...there is no way I can afford this, Minseok. I...I think I’ll just wait it out before my dorm room will be solved." Minseok's eyes were understanding yet a little bit...disappointed.

"What's the name of the girl you have a problem with?" you racked your mind for a bit, trying to come up the name that harassed you.

"Choi Sunkyu." it finally came to you and the second the words left you mind, Minseok's eyes hardened.

"That won't be settled, ___-yah." the way he said it, the icy tone of his voice made the polite smile on your face die.

"W-why?"

"You won't get your dorm room back. I know that girl, and sometimes, she just goes out her way to make someone’s day crappy. Unfortunately, that someone was you.“ he shot you a small, sad smile, because he knew how you must’ve felt. It’s your first day, and you’ve already made enemies.

„How much do you have?“ he asked you gently, resting against the doorframe.

„Not enough for this place, that’s for sure.” you smiled wryly at him, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Just tell me.”

“I have a thousand on my hand right now…” you went through the money in your mind, almost exactly picturing the way your mother gave them to you, just in case.

“I wanted to rent the room out for 350 a month.” Minseok smiled at you.

“But if that’s a big problem for you, I can knock it down, just until you’ll find the money.” you couldn’t help but to stare at him, wide eyed and mouth slightly opened.

“Would you do that for me?” he only nodded, the smile still in place.

“Why?”

“Well…” Minseok thought about his answer, and until he grinned.

“Let’s just say I’m a sucker for damsels in distress.” -

Your stay at the house was both a pleasure and a pain. It was a little bit of a pain to walk back to the house from school, with the backpack on your back. But the second you came back to the house, the feeling of home washed over you. All the stress, all the nervous feeling fell away. And Minseok...was Minseok. He was supportive, always bringing you food and refreshments when you have a cram session, helping when you cook and throw you a controller when you're bored and he's in the middle of playing PlayStation, switching into multiplayer mode. You found your first friend in Minseok, and he was slowly growing into something more. It was hard not to think about him in a different way when you almost always caught him getting out of shower, with a white fluffy towel wrapped around his lean waist and hair ruffled by the water. You also once barged in on him getting dressed, when you accidentally set the stove on fire and you couldn't find the fire extinguisher.

He was literally your savior, because if it wasn’t for him, you had no idea where you would end up. You probably would’ve stayed the night somewhere outside, and you might have gotten mugged, or worse. You would’ve left your school to go back home and probably decide to never do something adventurous again. But not with Minseok here, who always greeted you with a warm smile that had tingles go through your whole body and dinner that had your mouth watering. It wasn’t very unnatural for you to dream of him, dreaming of him embracing you, smiling that same warm smile he usually did a second before he leaned down and kissed you, making your stomach bloom with butterflies and beautiful feelings.

There were also other things that changed once you moved in with Minseok, and that was how people treated you. When you first came in, you were a nobody- nobody cared if you fell and your books scattered across the hallway. Nobody cared if you needed help, nobody looked at you more than once. But when the word slowly spread out that the foreign girl moved in with him (they always called Minseok that, with emphasis, and you had no idea why), everyone started noticing you more. By this time, you were already used to the shocked glances and tiny whispers as you walked past students, and you were slowly getting used to glares that were sent at you from Sunkyu, the girl who kicked you out of the dorm.

She enjoyed following you around school, watching you do your daily routine, sometimes even visiting you at your work to make it a bit harder for you, but nothing deliberately aggressive against you. You never would’ve believed she would do anything more than spill coffee that you were bringing her and so each time that happened, you just bit your tongue and smiled, offering to bring her a new one.

You needed to get through the last two hours of your shift, so you can go home and prepare. One of your friends has invited you to the frat party happening tonight, and even though you enjoyed nights spent with Minseok, you thought a little break of routine would do you good.

Only two more hours, ___.

And then, you’re off to the party.

-

 The music was booming through the full rooms of the frat house, and it took you only a while to realize that you probably shouldn't have gone there. After you peeled of yet another hand that slipped somewhere it shouldn't be, you decided to go seek refuge in the kitchen, where all the people seemed sober. You moved past all the grinding couples, dodging a pair pressed up against the wall and pushing a football captain out of the way, before finally finding yourself near all the stored red cups and most of the unopened drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. Seeing that none were open at that time, you pulled out a new, large cola and slipped a cup from the pile for yourself.

"Here, let me help." A slightly familiar voice told you as an arm reached for the bottle, opening it almost effortlessly. As you looked around, you almost cried out in relief at the dimpled smile and eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Joon! So I found you, after all!" You yelled over the music, leaning in closer so your classmate could hear you. The guy just chuckled, pouring you a cup and handing it over, using it as an excuse to step closer to you.

"I think you are mistaken, ___-ah. It was I who found you." You looked at him with a slightly concerned look.

"Were you drinking, Joon? That was the most poetic thing you have ever told me." You grinned when a flicker of hurt passed his face.

"Can't a guy sound gallant around here without being accused of drinking? God." You exploded in laughter when Joon picked up a full shot glass with a completely serious look and downed it in one go. When he saw you laughing, his facade fell through, though and he joined you in laughing.

"How long have you been here?" He asked, pulling himself a cup as well, before pouring in some cola.

"Just for a couple of minutes. I don't think I'll stay long, though." You tried to ignore the look of a kicked puppy when you told him that and you looked at the slightly familiar girl who is going to literature with you instead. It baffled you how alcohol can change a person, when you saw the shyest girl in the class give the already mentioned football player a lap dance.

"You have to be kidding me! You can't leave just now! The party just started, and I'm pretty sure I could be able to get a lap dance from you until the night is over." The drawl was attractive, just as his small smirk when he leaned in a lot closer, down to your face, but you twitched away. Yes, Joon was a pretty hot guy. But he was no Minseok.

"Sorry about that, Joon. I don't think you'll be getting a lap dance from me, but I'm pretty sure that foreign girl- Miranda was it? Would be delighted to." You snickered at Joon's sigh, as he shook his head and took another sip from the glass.

"Okay, though. But promise me that before you leave, you'll come say bye." You laughed at his statement, looking at him a bit incredulously.

"There is a one in a billion chance I'll find you in this mess, you know that, right?" Joon groaned, re-filling both yours and his cup.

"Alright then, I'll be waiting for you in the hallway upstairs. Almost no one is up there, so it won't be that hard to find it. Deal?" He stuck his hand out to you and with a small grin, you shook it.

"It's a gentleman's agreement, ___, that means if you break it, you lose your entire honor. Understand?" You controlled the grin that was coming onto your face, and you shook his hand seriously.

"A gentleman's agreement!" You called out loudly and Joon only twirled an imaginary mustache at you with a look of pride before he disappeared in the ocean of swaying bodies.

You sighed, leaning against the counter and staring down at your cup, wondering if you should pour yourself a little bit of vodka in there as well. You finished off your nonalcoholic drink and threw the cup in the trashcan effortlessly before leaning your head back against the cabinets and closing your eyes.

If you leave now, you wouldn't even have to call a cab. Busses would still be going, and you would be home in less than half an hour. Back home...back with Minseok, who looked so concerned over you when you told him where you were going. You smiled at the memory of his small frown and the slight pout, as he followed you around the house as you prepared, making sure to stop you before you walked out of the house, telling You to not drink anything they would offer you and only drink non-alcohol, because parties like that would have dangerous booze. You laughed at his almost mother-like nature and you only nodded, just to calm him down.

"I mean it, ___. Be careful. These parties can be beastly." His eyes flashed with something, something like longing? You couldn't quite put your finger on it because you were already being honked at by your cab and you had to rush out, briefly hugging Minseok. You sighed. Who were you kidding? It wasn't like this distraction was really going to help you much. Evidenced by the fact that even with the draw of the several multicolored bottles of alcohol lining the breakfast bar, all you wanted to do was go home and spend time with Minseok.

Pushing off the counter, you decided. Maybe you'd just take a bottle home with you and enjoy it there.

Now to find Joon... You battled through the horde of dancing and grinding couples in the living room, trying to get into as least contact as you could with anybody there. You went through the living room barely unscathed, as you got up the stairs.

Joon was supposed to be waiting for you here, but the hallway was deserted. With a slight blush and a look of disgust, you walked past closed door with moans and screams and bangs coming from behind them, and you continued your search for you classmate.

"___!" You jumped slightly as you heard Joon calling for you. You turned around to look at his grinning face appearing from some door and before you could smile back, he was urging you over, calling you inside.

You chuckled, shaking your head and following him to the room.

The door slammed shut.

And the lock clicked.

"Uhh... I was just leaving..." you muttered, trying not to pay attention to the thread of panic that hit you.

"Really..?" he slurred.

"But why..? We haven't even had any fun yet..."

"And you the main event hasn't started yet." A confident, painfully familiar voice came from the bathroom and your heart started beating at a crazy pace when your most feared nemesis came out from the bathroom, holding something what looked very close to a syringe.

And before you even had the chance to think about bailing, two strong arms wound around you from behind, trapping you in a tight grip.

"You know, I was supposed to be the one with Minseok." Sunkyu sighed blissfully, almost as if you weren't screaming your heart out for help and trashing in Joon's arms.

"The money, the face, the body...the reputation..." she sighed, plopping down on the bed you were being currently tied to, and she pursed her lips in thought.

"Only I'm good enough for Minseok. I only needed to be with him for five minutes, and he'd know." When you were finally gagged, she turned to shoot you a sly smile.

"I suck cock like no other." The sweet look then wore off and was replaced by something more... sinister.

"But then you decided to butt in, just like you did back at the dorm. Haven't you learnt a lesson, you stupid bitch?" She slapped you across the face, the impact flinging your head to the side.

"This time, I'll make sure you'll understand. Joon. Give me her arm." You tried to fight, but in your position it was futile. And Joon was too strong. You cried out against the gag, eyes pleading with him.

Please! No, please!

You tried to fight the tears stinging in your eyes but the way she'd slapped you made it hard. When your arm was finally presented to her, her malicious grin made your blood curl.

"Let's see if he still likes you after this..."

People say that when a stressful situation happens to you, that bad type of stressful, life slows down.

Yet when Sunkyu pulled out the syringe with the gooey red liquid and stuck it in your arm with scary precision, it all happened in a flash. She pressed down, and the liquid was injected into your body, making you scream.

It burned. It burned like nothing you have ever experienced before. As if your veins were full of mosquito bites and you couldn't do anything with the itch. You screamed against the gag again, trashing on the bed in wild attempts to free yourself.

"Should I fuck her?" Someone's, maybe Joon's voice was woozy, and your whole world shifted, lost its form as it melted into nothing and then formed itself again.

"No. Take her home. Let's see what Minseok has to say to that." Her voice commanded and you could faintly see her turn her back on you before unlocking the door and leaving you alone with him.

"As much as I'd like to fuck you senseless..." you felt your hands being untied and you heard his words, yet you couldn't understand them. Everything was so...weird.

What kind of drug did they give you?

"I have orders. But she didn't say anything about bashing your face if you ruin my car, so if you puke in there, I'll break your nose." Joon seethed in your ear as he got out of the frat house by the back door, back to his car, where he threw you in the passenger seat.

You couldn’t say a word, you had trouble to breathe normally. It was painful, to watch the blur of the town speed past you when Joon drove away from the party, away from the music and lights and into the darkness of the neighborhood.

“Where…” your voice sounded weird, sounded as if you were talking underwater and it was hard to keep your head up, as you kept banging it against the window.

“Shut up.” Joon cut off your stuttered questions, turning on the music and turning it up. You head pounded with the music and you whined softly, trying to cover your ears.

You weren’t sure if luckily or unfortunately, the car screeched to a stop, and the door you were leaning against was being opened and you were being shoved out onto the cold pavement. Without a word, Joon slammed the door behind you and he sped away, leaving you on the ground alone, in the dark town. You felt you were burning up, sweating, you felt you were having a fever, and you couldn’t help but to grow desperate.

Where were you? Oh my god, what’s going to happen to you?

With a whimper and sobs, you tried your best to lift your head shakily to look around your surroundings. The big white house in front of you looked fairly familiar, and you hoped that someone was home. You needed help and you hoped that someone in that house would aid you.

Your legs felt too weak to stand on them, and you chose to crawl, your limbs shaking heavily under your weight. Each little tug closer made your tears brim more, until they spilled over and you started crying, little gasps and sobs coming from your mouth. The house was nearing, you were already by the front steps, and your head spun heavily as you dropped it against the wood, banging it quite hard.

You couldn’t go further. You just couldn’t.

“Someone…” you called out, but your voice was too quiet.

“Please…help…” you wanted to bang your fists against the wood, but your hands felt dead.

Oh my god, were you going to die?

“P..Please, someone…Help…HELP!” finally, your voice screeched louder than the average whisper, and you heard someone in the house finally move.

“Help me, someone!!”

“Shit, ___.” The voice was familiar. You knew that voice well, and when the familiar scent enveloped you, you reached out blindly for Minseok.

“Minseok…” you cried into his chest as he swiftly pulled you inside. You heard him talking to you, he was saying something, but the warmth, familiarity and safety of the house made you black out.

And the whole world turned around, and you couldn’t remember anything else.

#xiumin #exo xiumin #xiumin story #xiumin scenario #exo #exo story #exo scenario #xiumin exo story #xiumin exo scenario #vampire #vampire au #exo vampire #exo vampire au #series: Heartbeat series