#Because everyone here is so fucking INSUFFERABLE. All of you are MISERABLE
Note
I recently got my first office job where I am interacting with my coworkers regularly. do you have any evil conversation skills that you think i should learn first
1. Figure out the easiest/most comfortable ways to say the whole spectrum of soft no’s to hard no’s from a scale of ‘genuine regret (invites future attempts if scheduling allows)’ to ‘polite deferral (respectful and evasive, somewhat firm)’ to ‘stone-cold shut down (professional Fuck You)’; you gotta know them all and you gotta be able to deploy them as needed. or at the very least, you gotta know how to give yourself time so you don’t automatically say ‘yes’ when you don’t want to.
2. The easiest way to make a good impression on people is to balance being useful and making others feel useful, which means offering some of the specific knowledge/insight you have and also asking for/acknowledging the knowledge/insight of others. offering/asking can be a weird balance, sometimes for some people in some contexts it comes pretty naturally, other times I find myself parsing out one (1) resource bit by bit to gauge whether someone’s actually looking for it or if it’s received in a lukewarm way. If ‘useful’ can’t really be a selling point at the moment (e.g. starting with zero experience rather than having an established knowledge base in a new environment) then you can always swap out ‘useful’ for ‘interesting’. know a charm point you have that can hook other people’s interest, know how to find and highlight other people’s charm points. If you want a mutual relationship it’s better to make an effort to share equally (for some people that means intentionally holding back, for other people that means intentionally speaking more), but if you’re just trying to coast it’s usually easiest to keep turning the conversation back on them and track topics the other person can get chatty about (pets, kids, shows, how they’re doing, etc).
hang on those are too reasonable and not evil but I’ve typed it all out so I’m not deleting. so, there’s a bunch of worksheets about ‘rules for fighting fair’ and if you ever meet a coworker you fucking hate then you wanna take those rules and do the opposite of all of them in order to have an on-purpose bad faith conversation and to make it as miserable for everyone as possible
1. If the coworker you hate is trying to talk about one specific problem, disagree with whatever their definition is and refuse to compromise
2. Bring in as many stupid tangential asides as possible so their original point gets buried
3. If you want to be legit evil, always imply or directly state that whatever they’re going through is a personal problem and a Skill Issue
4. Always find a way to vaguely disagree with your coworker. If they have a good point, say ‘Well, no, it’s actually like [basically rephrasing their point]’; you can either be subtle about this (negging) or blatant about this (The Mansplainer)
5. There’s a limit to how disrespectful anyone can be as a new employee. Find that limit and keep just short of it.
6. Always deflect and blame someone else, or if there isn’t someone to blame, have different excuses at the ready for anything that anyone might take issue with.
to some, evil communication skills is to win. but I think the most successful (insufferable) application is when the point is to make everyone as miserable as possible. I’m not trapped here with you, You’re Trapped Here With Me. also I wouldn’t actually recommend doing many of these things if you want functional working relationships. but it’s good to keep in mind if you’re ready to go nuclear! but more seriously, I do think these are important evil communication skills to learn because if you recognize someone using them against you, it gives you the chance to make strategies based on their behavior. 1. If someone is disagreeing with you any time you try to express a problem, shut down the conversation and reengage with a mediator that will be fair to you; 2. if stupid tangents keep showing up, it’s up to you to be the terrier with its teeth sunk into the mailman’s leg; etc. anyway this has gone too long and someone else should probably be giving more legit advice
#ask#anonymous#whoops this got long#oh almost forgot#congrats and good luck! hope you don’t have to use the evil skills!
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— starcrossed losers (a teaser) ⟢
at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.
★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader
★ WORD COUNT; 1k words
★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, angst, smut (in the future scenes, this teaser is sfw!)
★ NOTES; so my blog won't die in my absence nd slight inactivity from writing, i decided to leave you guys a snippet of the third n last part of my royalty series <3 as always, content in my teasers are not final and can be subject to change so heads up on that!
this is part of the it’s complicated series.
It’s several hours past midnight when you hear three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers.
Annoyed, you stare at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies from the neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive collection of cosmetics in Ancarra, your guests certainly knew how to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents can dispel the pure vexation that’s been making your blood boil the entire evening.
Not bothering to answer the door, you whisk yourself into the plush seat tucked underneath the dresser. There’s only one halfwit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how terribly tonight’s festivities went, you’re in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—much less Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—
“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”
You try to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangles half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he notices you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’re applying to your lips.
But try as you may, you cannot ignore Jeonghan when he reaches a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color that you accidentally tinted just a few millimeters from your lip line.
Not when his smoldering stare holds yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you can’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabs your chin and forces your gaze to marvel at the man himself.
“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneers and you want to hate him for it, but you can’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”
“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snarl, putting as much venom into the words as you can. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on top of the Rènxìng empire. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to show his face here for the sole purpose of courting me.”
He sighs as if meaning to be sympathetic, but you’ve long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”
“I am not spoken for,” you interject, trying not to crumble from how his thumb lightly dabs at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”
“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess who’s chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan coos, face inching ever-so close to yours.
“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.”
Your lungs burn as if they’ve been set aflame and Jeonghan is merely adding more fuel to the blaze. “You’re despicable.”
“And you, Your Grace, are much too gullible,” he chuckles, each breath fanning hotly against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting against me since we were children. Putting an end to our very interesting relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make good for the history books, no?”
All of a sudden, you remember something that Soonyoung told you in passing. How Jeonghan is someone who cherishes his loved ones deeper than one would otherwise expect. He loves his homeland. He loves his family. Above all, he loves his people.
With how he keeps reeling you back from all your attempts to escape your engagement, any other person would assume that he loves you just as much.
But how are you supposed to believe that someone like him is capable of love when all he does is thrive off your misery?
“This new rouge you’re testing out,” he murmurs, as if it’s remotely acceptable to just shift the conversation after what he just told you. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, no?”
“In what way does it concern you?” you grit.
The despicable prince simply hums. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’m quite curious about its actual longevity.”
You can practically hear your heart stutter to a stop when he closes the distance even more—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You’re clueless as to how it happened, but you suddenly find your fingers coiled around the front of his shirt. Looking for purchase. For solid ground.
But you should know better than to anchor yourself to someone as unpredictable as Jeonghan.
“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds, would you even be more furious than you are now?” he whispers and you can feel the ghost of a smirk against your lips. “Or would it garner the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”
Your pulse is roaring in your ears and all of a sudden, you can’t remember how to breathe. His intense stare is pinning you in place no matter how badly you want to escape. The scent of expensive champagne lingers on his lips and you find yourself craving for a taste.
But you can’t. You can’t want that. You can’t want him.
This is the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. The man you’ll be cursed to sit beside in a throne room forever if you don’t do anything about it fast.
You know these facts perfectly well, and yet…
Your eyes flutter closed as you hook your wrists across the back of his neck, letting your arch-nemesis fall deep into you.
this is part of the it’s complicated series.
want to be added to the taglist? leave a reply <3
#seventeen smut#seventeen fanfic#jeonghan smut#jeonghan fanfic#svthub#jeonghan x reader#seventeen x reader#lovelyhan
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Something Full-Bodied and Red
Did a thing. Here's period smut!
It hits you right as he says, “No need to bleed by yourself, my love.”
Your jaw drops. You stare at him, in his words, all agog. “You… are you saying…?”
“Offering my companionship during your trying times? Yes, I believe I am. You smell delicious, Eleanor. I’ve been thinking about devouring you all day.”
No mistake as his gaze slides down to the extra padding beneath your trousers. Or the way his pupils eclipse the red irises.
Or: Aunt Flo comes to visit. Astarion is delighted to make her acquaintance.
You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.
You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”
It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.
Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.
Shit goddamn fuck.
Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.
“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”
His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”
An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.
“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”
Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.
His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.
“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”
“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”
Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.
But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.
As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.
“’M okay,” you say.
He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.
The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.
Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.
He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.
You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.
He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.
So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.
It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.
“God that’s nice,” you say.
One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.
He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.
You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.
But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.
It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—
You shift.
His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—
“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.
Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).
You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.
You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—
“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.
(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)
“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?”
Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.
Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.
“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.
This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.
Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.
“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.
His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…
You clasp a hand over your mouth.
“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.
Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.
“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”
“But everybody’s so close.”
He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.
“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.
The rest on AO3.
#full-bodied and red#these two shitheads#astarion smut#bg3 smut#tavstarion smut#period kink#astarion period kink#blood kink#vampire shenanigans#these two are so weird#idiots in love#they're both assholes
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I read THROAM for the first time in ~5 years. Here's what I have to say.
Volume I: There was so many characters I forgot about when going into the fic. Pete, Jac, Spencers family. I cant believe I forgot them. Pete will always be a fave because everyone hates him and it makes me laugh. The first volume was always my 2nd favorite, I think it still is. overall, the storyline isn't complicated and I like that. Ryan is such an asshole so I dont feel bad for him one bit in any of the fic. Also, I used to say that the bus crash was Brendons fault (I was 13, okay?) But Ryan was just an unstable motherfucker who truly should not be trusted to drive a vehicle of any kind.
Volume II: holy shit. I hate volume two. Not saying the writing is bad but Jesus Christ, Ryan is an asshole. bro literally stalked Brendon after he ran into him at that party like what? I had messaged a friend after finishing volume 2, saying "I'm a really nice person I never wanna make people feel sad, let alone make a whole fictional story about someone being severely depressed and unstable whilst chasing a boy then fucking his bf at the end???" and I think that perfectly sums up how I feel (and always felt) about volume two. other than the fact that I used to say that it was Brendons fault. (I was 13. THIRTEEN) it wasn't his fault. Some parts were, yeah, but it's hard to pinpoint everything that happened on one person. at the end of the day, its a good story I just Hate it (does that make sense) I love it but I hate it? it remains my least favorite purely for the pain it put me through.
Volume III: I love this volume. I always have. Sisky is amazing, we all love Sisky. I will say the iconic song/album references/jokes made me cringe a bit, though. Im not exactly sure what about this fic I always liked so much, I guess you can really see Ryans character growth and finally not be as much as a miserable fuck (he's still unstable dw) Since Ryan is less insufferable, it makes the volume more enjoyable. I like that Spencer and Ryan became friends again, I think it makes the book more enjoyable and tbh I think Spencer rly tied vol 3 together, if he wasn't part of it it would lowk suck. overall, best volume cant wait to host the throam tour where we go to hotel Chelsea then machias.
final thoughts: if I thought throam was 100% good when I was 13, Id say now that I think throam is about 85% good now. (does that make sense pt 2) this fic has sent me back into being 13 and I have been blasting some pretty. odd. (im listening to it rn as im typing this) and listening to this album just makes my life feel more simple. still a solid fic, I think it would be an amazing published book. and I think we can all agree that it would be amazing to see THROAM movies (in our dreams)
Thanks for reading lol
#brendon urie#ryden#the heart rate of a mouse#throam#ryan ross#panic! at the disco#p!atd#patd#pretty. odd.#spencer smith#jon walker
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Foxes and Minxes: Collabo'ween Day 21
GN!AFAB!Reader/M!Teacher!Bailey
Warnings: Me being very British with everything referenced here (sorry); Alcohol; Gloryhole; Hints of Yandere Reader; References to bullying; Condoms; Bailey POV and he feeling guilty; Only pronouns for reader are they/you.
Word Count: 4010
Notes: This is the telepathy mixed with teacher prompt! Bailey is not the telepathic one, though, and I kept it subtle methinks. It's also just fun to think of where Bailey might have ended up if he hadn't become the caretaker.
His paycheck is late. Again. Leighton has been holed up in his office all day yelling at delinquents, telling Bailey to come back later every time he'd popped his head in. The first round of students had set a bin on fire in the cafeteria. The second had been encouraging someone to moon passing cars at the gates. The third had popped River's tires.
Sure, the kids here were usually shitheads, but to this level? It had to have something to do with graduation coming soon - they were all in their final year of Sixth Form afterall. Most of them being 18, but not fully grasping that they were adults yet and that they could be arrested for what they had been up to.
Some of them were in his class: economics. Or rather, missing from his class today. They'd been put in the isolation room to write out lines at desks with screens on them so they couldn't talk to each other. Bailey had been in there once or twice as a kid, hell, Winter had been the one to put him in there a few times. Strange that they were now colleagues. Strange that Winter hadn't applied to be head of the school (or at least deputy) after all these years.
As it was, with the shitheads mostly missing, his class was quiet. Sixth Form classes were smaller than the secondary education classes, the other teachers who had to handle both levels had it worse. Typically UK schools have all of the desks pushed into larger tables to facilitate group work and to make larger use of the room's space, but with how bad the students are here all of the desks had to be separated to discourage certain behaviours.
Right up front was his favourite. A shy kid, huddled up with their notebook. He couldn't tell whether or not they were doing the work or absently doodling while their mind wandered. He didn't care either way. They'd finished their exams, the only reason they were still here in class was because they all had to be until they walked out with their grades or failed and were pushed out anyway. School policy. One that severely annoyed everyone who wanted a free period to wander around.
His favourite kept mostly to themself, barely interacting with the others even though they were silently chatting amongst themselves or watching the documentary he had put on to keep some of them occupied. Only educational programmings allowed. Yet another school policy. God, it was miserable here. He'd be watching Breaking Bad otherwise, all of these students had hit 18 so he wouldn't get in trouble from parents about it. But no, instead he'd had to throw on some bullshit scaremongering thing about the dangers of ecstasy pills he'd found on YouTube.
Funny thing, growth. Back when he was their age, he'd have bullied his favourite. He was as much of a little shit as the rest of them are today. Now he finds solace that at least one of them paid attention. And they'd be gone soon, replaced by another bout of insufferable 16 year olds who would be eager to push him to his limits - only to find that he knew their games and wouldn't be putting up with them. Same old song and dance every new year.
Which is why he wanted his fucking paycheck. He goes home bordering on having an aneurysm every night, the least he can have in return is his rent money. He's not late, not yet, he'd saved up enough to have reserves, but it still felt better to have it. Plus, he'd be able to get himself a takeaway tonight. That Chinese place he likes is open on a Tuesdays. Some egg fried rice, noodles, chicken curry, those salt and peppered chips. A lovely break in his recent health kick he'd been on.
Bailey sinks into his seat, sighing at the thought as he chews on a pen cap. His favourite looks up from their notebook, their eyes passing over him quickly before going back down. Not a new thing. They're a jumpy little thing like that. He'd bumped into them once and they'd whimpered as though he'd struck them. Kinda reminds him of all of those videos of foxes just squealing because they can - so he'd nicknamed them after the animal.
He's not a stranger to the signs of an abusive upbringing - the bullying couldn't have helped either. But he's not the one to offer support beyond letting them use his classroom instead of the library. They could go to Doren if they wanted a shoulder to cry on.
The bell rang then, the students mostly springing up and rushing out to head to the cafeteria. His favourite was stayed put until everyone else left.
"What you got today?" Bailey reaches under his desk, fetching a box from his bag and his homemade panini with it. Ham, lettuce, and tomatoes filled it up.
"Same as usual," you respond with a small smile. Which means…
Bailey catches the Yorkie when you throw it over to him, and in return he tosses a bag of Maltesers. That's your usual deal. You bring the Yorkie, Bailey exchanges it for whatever sweet snacks he has that day. Whichever parent it is that always packs the bars for you clearly hasn't clued in to the fact that you've grown sick of the chocolate. Luckily for you, though, Bailey could inhale a whole four-pack in ten minutes.
And with it not being a class, that also means he doesn't have to abide by the 'educational' videos only rule. At least, that's the excuse he'll tell Leighton if he's caught putting on fucking Hannibal.
But it's a nice time, eating with his favourite as they watch the show over the lunch hour. Sure beats the fucking staff rooms. Bailey might just quit if he has to hear River complain about that Whitney kid again.
It's quiet again (save the chewing), but this time it's a comfortable quiet rather than the eternally tense silence of a classroom full of kids a moment away from doing a crime to lull the boredom.
Little Foxie relaxes now that they're alone, your shoulders sloping and your eyes focused rather than shifting. Poor damn kid. But, not his circus, not his monkeys. He won't see you again after next week anyway.
"Which exam do you have left?"
"Just physics. I'm dreading it, though. Sirris kinda does best with biology, so I've had to teach myself quite a bit. Just wish Leighton would hire more teachers - Winter's started nodding off in class apparently."
Yeah, you aren't wrong there. Overworked, underpaid. And that's what separates you from the other student. That empathy you have for others. How you've held onto it for this long despite the torment of your peers never fails to amaze him.
"I'm excited to head off to uni, though. It'll be way different than here and I won't have to be around people I don't want to see." There's hope I'm your tone.
"What'd you pick again?" Bailey can barely speak intelligibly with all that chocolate stuffed in his mouth. Like he's ever been one for good manners though - and it seems to entertain you enough when you smile at him.
"I'm still not sure. Psychology's an option, but creative writing or even zoology sound cool, too."
"Zoology? Didn't know animals were your thing."
"I started thinking about that after that field trip to the forest last month. You know how Winter is trying to find all of those ruins but there's the bears and stuff that could hurt him? It would be good to work to keep people who work there safe by taking care of the animals. Oh, and the fact that they're extinct everywhere else in the UK. They're important."
Eden would disagree, but his old friend would keep to himself so long as he was left alone out there.
"That, and well… animals are honest, you know? I don't have to worry if they'll be bad like people. They'll let me know what they want, I just have to learn the body language."
Bailey snorts, finishing his Yorkie as he nods. "Aye, good point there. They say never work with kids or animals, but I used to work at the dog pound when I was your age and wrestling screaming huskies into the bath tub was easier than these lot."
You return to being pensive, head cooking to the side. "How many of them do you think will go to uni?"
How many of them will you have to avoid, you mean, judging by the nervousness that eases back into your voice.
"Not many. They'll be the better ones who do anyway."
No more chatting after that. There's not much more to say - you don't exactly go into personal stuff with your students. You've covered what was appropriate to talk about, and that was enough. That's how it always is. It's how it continues in the week to follow, until you graduate.
He'll miss you. Just a little bit. The chocolate coated apple you leave on his desk with a thank-you note with a voucher for the local Chinese place is a nice touch, too. Did he even tell you he liked that place? He can't remember, but probably.
Bailey knows why he harbours such feelings toward you. You're the kind of kid he'd hope to have if he was ever unlucky enough to spawn.
"Good luck, Foxie," he whispers to himself as he eats the apple - and what do you know - it's melted Yorkie chocolate. Maybe you should have added confectionary to your list of things to study.
A bittersweet heaviness settles in his chest, causing Bailey to rub the area as he frowns. Your note didn't have a social media handle, and now that you'd graduated you could add him on there. He'd like to keep an eye on your progress, but if you'd rather not then he understands. It's a new start for you, and he was a part of a difficult past even if he'd tried to offer safety in the storm.
He still couldn't help but feel left behind. And not for the first time, he thinks.
Dwelling on his sorrows won't do, though. It's better to get your demons out before they dig dens: so to Darryl's club it'll be tonight.
Bailey stays to fix his classroom up and get everything he needs for the summer. The kids left screaming for joy - his work hasn't stopped just because it's a holiday. He'll have to check his units and adjust all of his educational bullshit.
His flat is small, just a single bedroom and a joint kitchen and living room, but it's enough. He guesses. Bailey's younger self would kick him in the balls for ending up here instead of as some big-shot lawyer or whatever he'd had in his head back then.
Chucking his box of work shit onto his coffee table, Bailey pushes his dark hair back out of his eyes and heads to the shower. He can afford to spend half an hour in there, Leighton had sent the paycheck over. Its just what he needs, the scalding water loosening his muscles up and getting any sweat off of him from the summer heat.
The outfit he chooses to wear is simple, but it's tailored just right to make his body look it's best. Dress shirt in white, black slacks, Italian loafers, his woolen long coat. He doesn't put it on until he's eaten, though, opting to shovel pasta into his mouth with his towel around his hips.
It's still bright when he heads to the club even though the hour is late. Bailey finds himself thankful for it, the setting sun keeping some warmth as he waits for the bouncer to thin the line out and let him in.
The environment inside is energetic, music pulsing through the building as lights are focused on various dancers performing on the stages in various stages of undress. People sit around watching with drinks in one hand and money in the other, ready to throw the cash when they find a dancer that gets them going enough.
Bailey didn't bring change. Instead, he's off to the bar, taking an empty spot and ordering a whiskey. Then, he waits. Tourists come to this town for the beach (and the underground sex industry), many of them in the club tonight. Many of them good looking and looking for a fuck without ties. Luckily for one of them tonight, so is Bailey.
His eyes scan the crowd, trying to scope out some cute thing he can make eye contact with and smile at so they'll either come to him or he can go to them. Sadly, the club's occupants tonight seem to be mostly local. And he isn't paying for one of the dancers either - Bailey likes it here and he'd rather not end up banned and have to venture over to Briar's seedy little hole.
With no luck, Bailey settles for watching the dancers and listening to the conversations of groups around him for a while as he sips his drinks. Yes, multiple. If he can't fuck, he'll get a buzz and go home feeling merry at least.
That time closes in, his eyes feeling heavy before it even reaches one in the morning. Fucking hell, he's feeling his age these days. He's not fourty yet, but it's coming, and his back especially is feeling it.
Placing his latest empty glass on the bar, Bailey goes to get up when something catches his eye. Red hair, pretty face, young. Someone he doesn't recognise. He thinks. He's had enough to drink at this point that he can't see the best - but what he can see he likes.
Now it's just about getting their attention.
Another drink is ordered - this time a virgin cocktail. He's had enough alcohol, he'd like to be able to walk home without falling over. Then it's back to lounging against the bar, staring at the pretty red-head and willing them to look his way.
And willing. And willing. And… shit. Yeah, they're not interested. Plus, Bailey needs to piss.
The crowd goes up in cheers as one of the favourite dancers comes onto center stage, everyone glued to their spots as the music switches to their routine's soundtrack. It fades away as the door to the toilets swings shut behind the dark haired man. There's barely anyone else in there, and the two that are hurry to get out to watch.
Not wanting to risk having some creep take a photo of his dick while he pisses, Bailey stumbles into a stall rather than over to the urinals. He's surprised to notice a gloryhole in the side of the stall; the owners here don't like that shit happening in the open. And it's a bug fucking hole, too.
A deep sigh leaves his lungs when he relieves himself, his head falling back and his eyelids closing.
The door squeaks open, footsteps echoing as they make their way over to the stall right beside his own. Swearing under his breath, Bailey keeps an eye out for a phone coming under or above the stall. The stalls don't save you from pervs with cameras, but it does mean you can trap them in the stall and threaten them until they hand the phone over and you can delete what they took.
"Hey, sorry, I couldn't hear you out there."
Bailey's eyebrows crease as he shakes his dick and puts it away. Are they talking to him?
"Yeah, no, I'm in the bathroom now. What did you call for?"
Nope, not for him. Nice voice though, bit of an accent. Definitely not from around here. Could be his tourist.
"I- really? Really? You promised I'd be able to stay out the full night! You always do this, you always-"
Oh, yikes. Controlling partner, it sounds like. Bailey knows he should go, but to leave now while they're arguing? To interrupt it? That feels more awkward than to hide and pretend he isn't there until they leave first.
That accented voice only gets more upset, causing Bailey to cringe and hold his breath.
"No! No, I'm not doing this anymore. We're done, you fucking freak! Yeah? Yeah? Go ahead, burn my shit, like I care."
Oh, good for them, he guesses. He can still hear the tears in their voice. Tears that evolve into sobs when they hang up and, by the sound of things, sit down on the toilet seat. Time to go, Bailey thinks. He'll be really quiet about it, though.
Which he fails at. Immediately. His loafers slip against the tile and his fist flies into the wall. Bailey doesn't hurt himself, but those sobs cease immediately.
There's some flashes of movement beyond the glory hole, flashes of red hair going past while Bailey remains completely frozen.
"Are you okay in there?"
"I should be asking you the same thing," he shoots back. "But yeah, I'm good. Caught myself."
"Guy from the bar, right? You were looking at me."
Ah, so they're avoiding the question. Fair enough. He can't blame them for not wanting to tell a stranger about the partner they just broke up with.
"Yeah, sorry, didn't know you were taken." He grunts as he finally stands back up right, smoothing out his shirt and working on tucking it back in.
"Were." It's whispered, accompanied by the shuffle of clothes. He'll leave them to it, he supposes.
"I, ah. Good luck with your-"
They weren't pulling their pants down to take a piss. They were pulling them down to press their pussy against the glory hole, giving Bailey a good view of it.
"You have a condom? I'm free now so…"
Bold little minx, aren't they? Forward with what they want, but responsible enough to ask for a condom. Which Bailey would have forgotten if they hadn't mentioned.
"Yup," is all he says, the 'p' popping as his pants come down again. Fishing out the condom from his wallet, Bailey keeps the packet held between his teeth as his hands get to work. One wraps around his cock, the other pressing against their pussy and thumbing their clit.
Such a cute giggle they have, such a cute little cunt they have. Just what he needs to keep make his day after all of the goddamn stress. He's clumsy though, the drink and the two different movements of his hands making his ministrations rough. Not that the minx next door seems to mind.
He's quick to harden, ripping the condom packet open before rolling it down on himself.
"Just spit on me, I don't want to wait longer."
Fucking hell, yeah he can do that. Leaning down, Bailey rolls his tongue around in his mouth, gathering spit before drooling it all over their cunt. And he just can't resist giving it a lick when he picks up how good it smells.
They laugh again, wiggling their hips so that his tongue teases their clit for a few seconds before he pulls away. Then it's right to what they both want.
The angle is awkward, standing up so straight his back leans away from the wall as he presses himself in. Completely worth it when he feels how tight and warm it is - even around the condom they feel like heaven.
Reaching up, Bailey tightly grips the top of the stall dividing wall to keep himself steady while he pumps in and out. Nice and slow to start, nice and slow to find the angle he likes and a rhythm that makes sense. He keeps his head down, watching himself sink in. Such a good sight to commit to memory.
The minx starts whimpering, gyrating their hips to demand more from Bailey. Strange that the whimper seems familiar, flashing images of a certain fox-like ex-student through his head. And a flash of heat through his lower belly.
"Fuck," Bailey hisses, shaking his head and trying to focus on the here and now. Completely inappropriate to think of you right now. He's never thought of you that way, and he won't start now.
But then the minx whimpers again, leaving Bailey with the thought of his little Foxie bent over his desk, taking him rough and hard while they both watch the door from fear of being caught.
You're gone. He won't see you again. It's not like he'll have to look you in the eye on Monday and face the shame of having had these thoughts. What's the harm in indulging in them when they make his skin feel so aflame?
"Yes, Sir, more!"
Oh that fucking helps. Sends his mind reeling about how nice you always were, how you knew what he wanted from you whether it was your behaviour, work, or conversation. It would translate into the bedroom, Bailey knew that much. You'd be such a good little one for him, on your back with your knees held to your chest so he could get a good view of what's between your legs. What he'd be tasting, savouring.
"So good, Sir, so good," the minx whines, that one fucking title the sweet spot in it all.
Bailey snarls, pumping hard and fast right into them, right into you, his brain stuck in a world where you're in his apartment, laying in his bed and clinging tightly to him while he makes your anxiety seem out of your body with every hit against the slick, gummy walls of your sweet cunt.
It creeps up on him, electricity sparking up his spine as his balls tighten. Bailey hasn't come this close to finishing so quickly in years, a realisation that sobers him for a second. His teeth dig into his lower lip, but it doesn't slow down the building explosion that hits him.
He loses control of his hips, feeling like they're being pushed forward by an unseen force as he buries himself into the minx, spilling spurt after spurt of his seed into the condom. It drains that burst of energy he'd had, his cock slipping out of the minx as he struggles to stay standing.
"You okay in there, handsome?" There's no mocking in their voice, just amusement.
"Shit - sorry. I'll finish you off, here-"
"Nah, it's all good. My phone won't stop going off and if I don't answer that bastard really will burn my shit. I left my mother's necklace over there so I should head over."
"Don't go alone if you can help it," Bailey grunts, putting his clothes to right again and disposing of his condom in the bin. Next door, he hears the minx putting their clothes to right as well.
"Yeah, I'll grab my friend on the way out. She's probably out of money at this point anyway."
Their stall opens, footsteps heading off. Bailey isn't long behind.
Two seconds. Two seconds of seeing them clearly in the mirrors above the sink as he passes. Two seconds where he sees them fixing their hair - an obviously fake wig that he can make out clearly since the drunkenness has faded. Two seconds where he can make out their face in the bright light of the bathroom.
One extra second when you turn back, panic in your eyes at the knowledge that he'd realised who you are. The panic fades though. Instead, you're smiling in a way he's never seen you smile before. It's confident. Fox-like.
"Or maybe I'll just head back home since there's no ex-boyfriend. Could go back to yours. Bet you'd like more of a taste, Sir. I'll even hold my legs apart for you."
Bailey can't move. Can't chase after you and demand answers as you scurry off, your hips swaying in that outfit. Can't believe his cock is hardening again, and that you'd know just what he wants. Just like he'd thought you would.
Why do you always know what he wants?
#collaboween#spill my guts#necro's fics#bailey the caretaker#gn reader#afab reader#cw alcohol#yandere reader#degrees of lewdity
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Sweets🍭 Asks: "Heeeey! It's me! I've just been struggling with ideas because....ive been thinking about things unrelated to sunny day Jack
BUT HEAR ME OUT
Remember that one fic you wrote with Jean and Joseph with teacher MC
Yeah that but...mc is the director\creator of the sunny time crew and here's the kicker
They are extremely miserable
They hate their job
They hate their life
They hate children
They probably hate Jean and Joseph too
Will that stop them from flirting with this tired annoyed grumpy director?
Nope! I mean Jack and Rory were made to make people happy!
It's gonna be a piece of cake
...right?"
Oh Sweets hellooooooo!!! I love you!!! You always bring me the absolute most banger ideas!!!
I love the idea of them both falling for this person who looks like they haven't slept in weeks and visibly loathes every moment they're on set lmao
Content: hatred of children, general depression, ngl reader just sort of sucks, smoking, absolutely shamelessly dirty flirting, suicidal ideation/joking about suicide, reader is not okay
Coffee isn't enough anymore. You need an IV drip of caffeine straight into your blood stream. Or some heavy drugs. Or a real hard blow to the head with a baseball bat. At this point, you're not picky. Whatever gets you off this stupid set.
The SunnyTime Crew Show. Your crowning achievement. The idea that made your career. Shown across millions of tv sets all over the country every single day. Shown to all those little ankle biters you can't stand the sight of, too young and useless to so much as wipe their own asses.
It's all bright colours and simple words and stupid, terrible songs that get stuck in your head on loop until you want to bash your brains in against a wall. Not that it takes much for you to feel that way these days. Especially given the people you're working with.
Joseph Haberdae and Jean Laurent. Rising star and bossy diva. The constant bickering. The even more constant flirting. The adlibbed lines. The relentless cheer while the cameras roll. And the insufferable questions when they don't. They take the whole thing so fucking seriously. Like this is anything more than some drivel for parents to shove their kids in front of when they can't be bothered to parent anymore.
Maybe you don't hate the kids, maybe it's the parents you resent. Always shoving crying babies into your arms during live recordings so their "precious child" can get a better look at the set. Demanding the show teach this or that lesson. Begging for the Crew to come work birthday parties.
But no, you can't stand wiping little noses and listening to the shrieks. Kids have always given you the creeps, but now they piss you off. Always saying weird things and rubbing their sticky fingers all over set. You're just lucky the stars are better with the kids than you are.
"Should we cut?" Your brought out of your stewing annoyance by the sound of your PA whispering in your ear.
You down the last of your coffee and shove the cup into his hands, a silent demand for more. "Cut!"
You hadn't noticed the scene end. But it didn't matter, Joseph and Jean had started improvising lines anyway, as they so often did. Your eye twitches in annoyance. You don't spend your time yelling at the writers to get every line perfect just for these idiots in costumes to make shit up.
"Haberdae, Laurent." You snap your fingers and point to the spot in front of you. "Everyone else, take five. Then we reshoot. We get it right this time or every single one of you is out of a goddamn job."
As the rest of the cast and crew file out for their break, the two men stand at attention before you. They know where this conversation is going. It's the same one you have every time they so much as change a single word from the script.
"So, which school was it?" You cross you arms and scowl at them both.
They exchange a look of confusion before Joseph ventures a reply. "What?"
"Which school? SoCal? Columbia? You do RTF at Austin?" They can tell your tone is derisive, but they're still not sure what you're getting at. You roll your eyes. "Where you studied screenwriting. I assume you've got some writing background, since you're always changing my fucking script."
Oh. Ohhhhh. Okay, they're on the same page as you now. Joseph has the good grace to look chastised, staring at his feet like a kicked puppy. Jean isn't one to be so easily intimidated. He raises an eyebrow and shrugs.
"What was it today, your assistant got you the wrong coffee? Or did some kid get ketchup all over your copy of the script?" He's used to your bad moods. They both are, but he's not swayed by them. "If you'd actually watched the take rather than staring off into space, you'd realise it was better than the shit your writers came up with."
You purse your lips. He's... probably not wrong. It's hard to find good writers who are willing to throw their talents away on a show like this. And they do both have an admirable understanding of their characters. Much as you hate them, they're true to your original vision. The vision you wished you'd never had.
With a reluctant sigh, you move to rewatch the take. Your PA hands you your coffee and a lit cigarette before hastily retreating, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of whatever's going on. It's a relief, the burn of the smoke in your throat followed by the burn of the scalding coffee.
"Watch."
Joseph's behind you, hands hovering just over your waist as his breath brushes against your ear. Damn this infuriatingly handsome man and his lack of personal space. You grit your teeth and focus on the screen, ignoring the huge man all but pressed against your back. He and Jean crowd you, trying to get a good look at the viewer as you play back the scene.
It's... good. Better than the script. You don't want to admit it out loud, but their additions make more sense with the episode's story, and sound more like Jack and Rory. Damn them.
"See?" Joseph's lips brush against your ear, one hand making contact with your waist for just a moment to give it a soothing rub. "Not bad, right?"
You shove him aside, taking a long drag of your cigarette and pretending to mull it over. As if there's any question. He watches you closely, with all the eagerness of youth and all the ego of an actor who knows he's good at his job.
"Fine." You breathe the word out in a plume of smoke. "It's good enough, I guess. We don't have time for another take anyway."
Joseph grins, leaning an arm on your shoulder like you're an old friend rather than his director. "Come on, you can admit it. We're good."
You sneer at him, trying to nudge his massive forearm off you. But he doesn't budge. Instead, Jean takes up an identical position leaning on your other shoulder.
"So tense," he tuts and shakes his head. "Come on, you can praise us sometimes, you know."
With a roll of your eyes, you resign yourself to once again being crowded by the two men. You can't honestly say you mind it. "Why, so you can get off to it later? I've got about as much interest in stroking your goddamn egos as I do in stroking your pathetic cocks."
"Watch out," Jean's voice is a familiar, teasing lilt. Though it feels directed as much at Joseph as it is at you. "Talk like that might just get Joseph all riled up."
"Eugh." You mime throwing up, ducking from under their arms to grab your coffee and down some more. "Don't need to know about your humiliation kink, thanks."
Joseph's redder than he'd care to admit, but he tries to brush it off. "You know, I didn't realise you thought about stroking our cocks that often. Or our egos."
"Maybe a quick romp would help loosen you up a bit?" Jean suggests, raising an eyebrow with a quirk of his lips. "Keep you focused on your job. Is that why you've got that thousand yard stare every time we shoot? Too busy thinking about fucking us in our dressing rooms?"
From an outside perspective it might seem like sexual harassment in the workplace, but... you encourage it in your own way. You could easily set boundaries if you wanted to, but their flirting—however much they annoy you—is the only interesting part of your life right now. The only part that doesn't make you consider jumping off the roof of the studio.
"Too busy thinking about the easiest way to off myself, more like. Still trying to decide between throwing myself in the reservoir and just jumping in front of the next car I see."
"Well, wouldn't that be a waste of a pretty face?"
Jean's not worried by your theatrics. It's not the first time you've loudly proclaimed your intentions to off yourself, nor will it be the last. It never stops you coming in the next day, looking as dead behind the eyes as ever, and yelling at everyone you see.
"Pretty face." You snort, trying not to choke on your coffee. "What, is it the eyebags or the fact that I haven't had time for a decent meal in months?"
"I think it's your smile." Joseph's always so... genuine. He flirts like Jean, of course, but sometimes he'll throw something so earnest at you that it winds you. "We don't get to see it often, but... you've got a really nice smile."
It feels like he's punched you in the chest, not given you a sweet compliment. It's time to put a stop to this for now. The flirting's gone past entertaining and straight into that dangerous territory that leaves you worried you might do something stupid. Like fall for one or both of them. Not to mention, you've still got half a day of filming this bullshit left.
"Fuck off to makeup, be back on set in two. We'll pick up with Rory's baking lesson."
With a stern nod to the stage door, the two hurry off. You feel like you can breathe again. When they're around, you start to get claustrophobic. Or maybe coulrophobic. Or maybe just... you feel vaguely nauseous at even the shadow of a thought about having romantic feelings for either of the frustrating, handsome actors.
Nope.
No way.
Definitely not.
Not while you have the world's worst tv show to direct.
.
.
.
God you hate your life.
#swwsdj#something's wrong with sunny day jack#sdj jean#sdj joseph#joseph haberdae x reader x jean laurent#gn!reader#18+ only#sunshine#sweets🍭#dear director au#crosspost
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Wren Opara
For @mangosimoothie's The Familiar
The Basics:
-> Human; They/Them (Nonbinary)
-> Traits: Perfectionist, Peaceful, Snob, Neat, Party Animal
-> Blood Type: B Negative
-> Gay AF
-> Young Adult (irl probably like 23 y.o.)
Many details below the cut! ↓
Wren grew up in a painfully high profile family. Their mother is a beloved career politician in San Myshuno who dethroned her conservative competitor at the height of his career. She's been fighting for whatever it is Democrats want people to think they care about while shaking hands with elitist bureaucrats and not getting their own child's pronouns right for years now. Wren's father, on the other hand, is a retired engineer and respectable investor currently focused on funneling money into "forward thinking, clean energy advancements." He's an effortless public speaker who is known for wiring up crowds of eager college graduates, TED talk truthers, and other alpha male types all while speaking a maximum 10 words at home on a weekly basis - but it's fine, really!
Even if Wren's parents have never so much as held hands in their presence, they do seem to agree on a couple things like: (1) Wren could be doing more with their life, (2) Wren is "hellbent on hurting the family image," and (3) Wren should try to be more like their older brother and sister who are, in Wren's opinion, not-so-secretly competing to see who can be more fucking insufferable. So yeah, everything has always been fine. Wren is the black sheep, the youngest child with a fucking communications degree (the horror!), the queer child who is constantly held to a higher standard of what their relationships need to look like, who has a penchant for lavish, expensive parties and enough fair weather friends to fill a fucking yacht. They're fine, it's all very fine...
Except when it's not. Which is often, actually, now that they're really thinking about it. Ever heard of those child geniuses who get burnout before they're 40? Wren is going through their third (maybe fourth) midlife crisis before 25, so although that's not ideal, at least people can't call Wren an underachiever. After years of doing all the right things, keeping their head down, shaking all the right hands, and being under the heavy scrutiny of the public at large and still not being good enough, they've pretty much just hit a wall. Like, what's the point? So yeah, they party and they've been in a bit of a funk. The parties are fun, and Wren loves a good time (and a good distraction), but it's all so fucking fake and lonely. Wren's exhausted.
So here they are, trying something truly wild because why the fuck not. Anything is better than living in proximity to people who view you solely as a burden or a benefit, depending on the context. Does Wren live to serve and perform well under immense pressure? Wren would argue that everyone's ass has to spend their whole life serving someone or something anyway, so you might as well try and make it worthwhile. Wren is neat, organized, has refined tastes, an eye for luxury, and they are certainly not squeamish. They wouldn't describe themselves as responsible by any means, but they do get shit done when they set their mind to it, and they're loyal.
They've worked plenty of shitty jobs in the past. They've been a Starbucks barista in a fucking yuppie ass Target on Black Friday; they cleaned bathrooms and slung drinks while working at the sluttiest, dirtiest, raunchiest club in SanMy; they've worked on their own mother's godforsaken campaign with the most miserable Midwesterners known to man; they're pretty sure they can handle just about anything. After all, Wren knows enough about Atticus and Ryan to feel, with absolute certainty, that working for them would likely be worlds better than being a second class citizen in their own life. Some risks are just worth taking, and some lives are worth leaving behind.
Wren's read that one book - Twilight or some shit? It wasn't for them. They're doubtful it was like, super accurate anyway. So they might, admittedly, have a limited knowledge on what actual vampires are like, but they're extremely open minded after doing a quick web search: "What is a vampire familiar?" and reading some guy named Vlad's wiki page. Maybe the fire under their ass comes from a renewed sense of intrigue, maybe it's sparked by the potential to change their life into something truly and uniquely their own, maybe it's just their competitive nature, but Wren is eager to prove that they're a perfect fit even for the most picky, high-profile vampires.
Some fun facts:
❤ Wren's birthday is October 28th: they don't believe in astrology, but loves to jokingly call themselves a Scorpi-ho.
❤ Has 1.7 million followers on Social Bunny.
❤ Says they are 5'10 - is actually 5'8. Will look you in the eyes and deny this with their whole chest. All their shoes give a little lift for this reason lol.
❤ Not a crier or a super "expressive"/"vulnerable" person, but deals with emotional people really well and actually finds them refreshing.
❤ People have always underestimated Wren's intelligence, but they're dangerous as fuck to have in your corner. They will tank your public image or build it back up with the skill of someone twice their age. They are a numbers whiz and a spreadsheet master in disguise. They are booked and unbothered with quiet efficiency. They work in silence and make major moves in the shadows (unlike the rest of their family but I digress).
❤ Will literally vomit if anything "Pumpkin Spice" is brought within an inch of their mouth. Deadass.
❤ Changes their hair color on such a regular basis that it has become a trending topic on multiple occasions. Loves to play around with fashion in general.
❤ Their typical "type" would be someone big, beefy, and hairy. Thems the rules and Wren is not budging. (I'm not sure if Wren is applying for this position with romance on their mind, you can do with that what you will 👀)
❤ Loves the company of artist types and musicians the most, even though Wren wouldn't consider themselves to be the conventional "creative type."
❤ Will do the worst rendition of WAP you've ever heard at karaoke after a few rounds of shots. Also loves waxing poetic at art museums and pining for beautiful men from afar.
❤ All of their tattoos and piercings were impulse decisions.
❤ Lowkey a philanthropist?! Does not make a big deal about it, but gives copious amounts of their money to charity regularly and actually volunteers often.
❤ Denies watching trash reality tv but definitely does. Has two separate Spotify accounts - one for leisure and the other perfectly and meticulously curated to share when "Spotify Wrapped" season comes along.
❤ Once royally pissed off a certain celeb's stans by (jokingly) stating on a livestream that they've "Got as many clothes in their closet as [redacted] has exes." People demanded "Accountability." They posted a link to a SimsTube video response with the title "Let's Talk (Apology)." It was not an apology, but rather a clip of them going "Wooooow, you bitches really thought. Anyway, steam Traumazine."
#I'm so sorry... I wrote a damn book lmao. But I fell in love with Wren as I was making them!#I hope you love them ❤#For the record..it was the Swifties (ofc) who Wren pissed off lmao but I didn't want to assume she exists in your lore lmfao#katowinfamiliar#mangosimoothie#my ocs#oc: wren#simblr#sim submission#ts4#the sims 4#sims 4#ts4 cas#my sims#If there are any typos I'm sorry but I can't edit this any more than I already have. Brain hurts. Goodnight! ❤
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Sold out show
Anon request:
This is from @sundaycore prompt list
60. “You’re either leaving with a black eye or a hickey. Your choice.”
62. “It’s locked!” “You mean we’re stuck in here?”
With Timmy?
Wordcount: 2.6K+
Description: It’s never a good idea to sleep with a band member, but you did and now you have to deal with the fall out, but maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem.
A/N: It’s finally here, another part to the 80s rockstar trope. I started writing this almost a year ago, had crazy muse for this thanks to the lovely Anon for a few days ago. The request is fucking old so to the person that sent the original request if you are still reading I’m sorry. Love writing them and love this trope.
Warning: Smut, fluff, blow jobs,
You might be a talented guitar player but your second talent was avoidance and if there were an award for that shit, you would win every year. You had no idea what came over you when you slept with Timothee Hal, but you’ve been avoiding him ever since.
Luckily, it seemed he was avoiding you as well. He barely spared you a glance anymore. There was no more teasing or jabs, there was nothing. You were angry with him for avoiding you and confused about why you cared. Well no, you knew why you cared but you rather not think about it too deeply.
The tour was over soon and you were conflicted about how you felt. You would miss the stage, playing sold-out shows, but you would get some time away from Timothee Hal and all the feelings surrounding you. It was suffocating and you had been smoking almost a pack a day now to get your nerves under control.
“Fucking hell is that your 5th cigarette?” Benji said coming outside to stand beside you.
“You have more than 5 cigarettes in a day, stop judging me,” you said passing him the cigarette.
Benji scoffed, taking the cigarette and taking a long drag from it. “I probably smoke a pack a day, but I meant you have smoked about 5 today and it’s-” he paused looking down at his watch “-10 in the morning.” He finished giving you a pointed look.
“When have you become my father?” You mumbled taking your cigarette back.
“I’ve always been the oldest and when the rest of you act like children, I have no choice to but be a parent. Join a band everyone said, it will be fun they say, but no it’s fucking childcare.”
You laughed, finishing off your cigarette, and wrapping your arms around him. “Benji, you are the best. We love you and this band would be nothing without you wrangling us.”
“Yeah without me wrangling you all would probably be dead,” he said, sighing as he hugged you back. “Oh and you are cut off for the day,” he said, taking the rest of your cigarettes.
You pouted but didn’t fight him on it. It was probably for the best that he took them from you. “Benji, I liked you better when you were the one sneaking alcohol for all of us when we were younger,” you said, pulling away and smiling.
“And I liked you better when you didn’t sleep with band members and then made the whole bus awkward,” he countered.
The smile left your face quickly and you narrowed your eyes. “So the real reason you came out here then?”
“You both are miserable and it is insufferable to be around either of you. We thought you two would realize you love each other after sleeping together but no. It’s worse than before because you two are idiots.”
“I thought we were children,” you teased.
“You are both and don’t change the subject,” He said, glaring down at you.
“And what exactly do you want me to do about it?” you huffed.
“Fix it. Talk to him, fuck him for all I care, just you got to do something. You both moping around is not a solution.”
“Why do I have to talk to him? I have nothing to say to him.”
“You love him. Everyone knows that, everyone but him and you. And he loves you so much, he goes on and on about it all the time,” he said, causing you to look away from him. “Just speak with him, it will do you both some good,” he added before walking away.
Now you wished you didn’t give him your smokes. You needed one or two right about now. You hated how right he was, you needed to speak with Timothee Hal, if not for yourself but for the band. It was clearly getting to Rose and Benji and the discord was not good for the band.
For the band you would talk to him, you would swallow your fear and worries and speak with him about whatever you two needed to clear up. If he didn’t love you, you could live with that, if he did… you could live with that as well.
Finding Timothee was a lot harder than you thought. He was a lot better at avoiding you than you gave him credit for. Every time you walked in his direction, he would swiftly go the other way and with his long ass legs, he could cover a lot of distance. After two days you were more than annoyed.
He started to sleep the whole time on the tour bus just to avoid you. Your old annoyance with him was coming back quickly. It was the last night of your tour. You were home, in New York. It should be a joyous occasion, but instead, you were following the bass player around the club you were playing instead of enjoying the city.
“Timothee Hal, you can’t ignore me forever. Goodness, we need to talk,” you groaned as you caught his sleeve.
He barely paused as he tugged his sleeve out of your grip and kept walking. You were ready to give up. You were not going to beg for his attention, but it wasn’t about your feelings. It was about the band.
“You are fucking annoying,” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him with you into the closest room, which happened to be a small closest. He tried to tug out of your hold but you just tightened your grip, pushing him into the closet and closing the door.
He frowned leaning against the wall, bumping his head on the shelf, and whimpering slightly. You rolled your eyes, he was a child and you hated him, and you hated yourself for not hating him.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” You asked, leaning against the door.
He crossed his arms looking everywhere but you.
“Are you seriously going to ignore me when I’m standing in front of you?”
Still, you were met with silence and you wanted to scream. You could hear the crowd as the announcer mentioned your band going on in a few minutes.
“Look we slept together it’s no big deal okay, can we just move passed it? It’s starting to affect the band, Rose and Benji don’t deserve it and frankly, neither does I.”
His eyes snapped to yours at your words. “Move passed it? So act like we didn’t sleep together? Is that what you want? Pretend it didn’t happen, pretend like I don’t want it to happen again. You know what, that’s fuck that’s fucking fine,” he shouted, looking away again.
You were the silent one this time staring at him. “Have you been asking insane because you want to sleep together again? Are you kidding me?”
“Can we just not do this, please,” he said quietly.
You weren’t used to seeing him like this. Timothee Hal was confident always flirting with a smirk painted on his face, annoying all the time, but never like this. Him sad and defeated.
“God, you are annoying,” you said, walking closer to him, forcing him up back into the shelf more. “We just sleep together and you just ignore me, I think you hate me or regret it, but you’ve been pouting about it,” You complained, undoing his pants.
“What are you doing?” He asked, eyes now completely on you, but making no move to stop you.
“Look things are going to go one of two ways. You’re either leaving with a black eye or a hickey. Your Choice,” You said, grabbing his leather jacket and pulling him down to your level. “You’re annoying, arrogant, and drive me insane, but I have it bad for you,” you said ghosting your lips over his.
He shuddered and you slipped your hand into his pants, squeezing his cock. He whimpered. “I think you regretted us sleeping together. I told you then how I felt about you last time and then you avoid me, I’ve loved you my whole life,” he said, kissing you.
Your chest tightened and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips, stroking his cock, loving how instantly he hardened. “Loved you too, I shouldn’t have avoided you, I’ll make it up to you,” you said, dropping to your knees.
“Oh God your gonna fucking kill me,” he said already dripping.
“You’ll have to get used to this,” you smirked, licking along his cock. He gasped, his hips bucking forward, pushing his tip into your mouth.
“Shit, so pretty,” he sighed blissfully, unable to take his eyes off of you.
Looking up, you locked eyes with him through your lashes, you sucked on his head for a few seconds before swallowing him down, taking him as deep as you could. Your throat flexed around his cock and you gagged, before pulling off for a moment.
“You don’t have to go all the way down, fuck just my cock in your mouth is enough to make me cum,” he said, rubbing his thumb over your lips.
“Want to see you become a whiny mess for me though,” you said, pouting, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him closer, and taking his cock in your mouth. You moaned around him bobbing your head fast.
“Baby,” he breathed out. His hips shallowly thrust into your mouth. “So pretty. Love you so much. Could write a billion songs about you. You know that all our songs are about you, about how much I love you,” he whined babbling away as he tried to hold off wanting this to last forever.
Your hand grabbed his ass, squeezing and forcing him all the way down your throat.
“What? Fucking hell,” he started before being cut off as his cum shoot into your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, licking up and down his cock, lapping up all that escaped.
His chest rose hard and fast as he panted, nothing leaving his mouth but whines as he watched you through hooded eyes. His knees shook slightly, but he still help you to your feet.
“Kiss me,” he whimpered.
Melting at how fucking spent he was, you tangled your hands in his curls kissing him passionately. He kissed back needily, cupping your face, pulling back softly. “I need you to know it’s not just sex talk, I’ve been going mad about my feelings. I don’t want just sex.”
“I know. I want more too,” you confessed.
“After the show come on a date with me. That diner we used to go to when we were teens, let’s go,” he said, pressing you against him.
“I would love to, haven’t been in forever,” you, pecked his lips. “We should go and get ready for the show,” you said after a moment sadly pulling away.
He groaned but nodded putting his cock away.
“Fuck Timothee Hal you look fucked out.”
He grinned giddily. “And proud of it. You sucked my cock like it was your day job, and I could fucking cum just thinking about it.”
You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes. You turned to open the door only it was locked. “Umm.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. “It’s locked.”
Timothee Hal pressed his back chest against your back tugging on the door. “You mean we are stuck here?” He said not at all concerned, his hands already wandering to your sides, his lips founding your shoulder.
“Baby we have a show, this is kinda important,” you said, but not stopping him.
“Benji will come find us. We might as well enjoy our time,”
“Oh, I really don’t fuck before the first date?” You teased, pressing your ass into his cock.
“That’s fucking bull shit. I remember you begging me for my cock last time,” he said pulling your skirt up around your hips, pushing your underwear to the side.
“Think I like you whiny and needy more,” you sighed as he slide into you. Your head fell against his shoulder.
“I like you on your knees, bossing me around anything,” he said, pressing kisses to your chin.
“Don’t be so sappy,” you complained.
He rolled his hips, brushing your sweet spot. “Can’t help it. And you’ll have to put up with it now, you're my girl.”
“Am I?” You asked, taking a sharp intake of breath as he pressed his thumb harshly into your clit.
“Fuck yeah. You’ve always been my girl, now I can just tell everyone.” His lips moved to your neck. “And leave my mark all over you.”
“Please mark me up, want everyone tonight to know I’m yours.” You could feel how hard his heart was beating and you closed your eyes getting lost in the pleasure of him.
“Tell me you love me,” he begged.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you,”
Goosebumps rose all over your body as he connect your lips. Your cunt spasmed and you moaned into his moan as you came.
“F-Fuck Timothee Hal.”
“Love it when you say my name,” he rasped as he came, driving his hips forward, pressing flush against you forcing his cum all the way in.
You two stayed pressed together, breathing heavily until there was a loud banging on the door. “Get dressed and stand back so I can open the door, fuck.” Benji’s voice ranged out.
You chuckled, nudging Timothee Hal to move, but he whined, wrapping his arms around you. “I like being inside of you.
“Jesus Christ,” Benji mumbled. “I can’t deal with these two.”
Rose giggled, pressing her ear to the door. “You two better be a couple, no more of this weird shit.”
“We are,” you both answered.
��Then, in that case, I’m so happy for both, but Benji is right we need to be on stage soon.
“You heard her,” you said, leaning back to peck under his chin. “We have a date and our last show,” you reminded him,
Grumbling, he pulled out, fixing your clothes before fixing his own. He turned you around cupping your face. “Can’t wait to do this show. I’m glad you forced me into here.”
“I’m glad I didn’t have to give you a black eye,” you joked, pecking his lips as the door opened.
“Enough enough,” Rose said, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from him.
Benji grabbed Timothee, pulling him out of the closet. “You go tune your bass,” he said.
Timothee grinned and playfully salute you all, sending you a wink before going off backstage.
“What about my guitar?” You said, itching to go after him.
“It’s already on stage and we both know you tuned it 100 times,” Rose teased. “Let’s get a drink and you can give me all the details,” she said, leading you to the bar. “Mai is going to be so jealous she missed the little preshow,” she said wiggling her eyebrow.
“God, why am I friends with you,” you said, pulling out a cigarette, lighting up as you sat at the bar.
“Because you love me.” She said.
The moment the concert was over, you had him pressed up against the wall your lips attached to his. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “You played so well, a good fuck helps, who knew.” You teased.
“Yeah, I think you’ll have to fuck me before every show from now on. For the betterment of the band,” he teased back.
You chuckled pulling away. “For the band? I suppose I can take one for the team.” You slowly started to walk away.
He watched you for a moment, his eyes scanning your head to your toes, biting his lower lip.
“Timothee Hal come on, we have a date, remember. A little booth, a milkshake, and some fries are calling my name,” You held out your hand.
He slipped his fingers into yours. “Think I can get away with fucking you in the booth?” He smirked, devilishly.
“We will just have to see.”
Taglist.
@gatoenlaciudad
#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chalamet imagines#timothee x reader#timmy x reader#timothee chalamet x you#timothee chalamet fanfic#timothee chalamet imagine#timothee chalamet sm
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Drarry Case Fic Recs
So there are eleven of these instead of the usual ten I typically try to keep my lists at, but I just couldn't pick one to cut! The first is the only non-smutty one. It's absolutely brilliant, so I didn't even miss the hanky panky. Okay, fine. Only a little bit. They're in no particular order, as each one is gorgeous, and you should read each and every one of them. Well? Go on, read them!
Each Breath My First by laughingd0g (T, 46k)
Thoughts: The characterizations were dazzling, particularly Draco's. I loved his quirks, and the descriptions of his cottage were delightful. I found the curse damage Harry suffered from as fascinating as it was heartbreaking. The case was engaging, and the suspense was super intense! I loved the slow burn. This is an amazing read by an overall dazzling writer.
Chasing Shadows by manixzen (E, 93k)
Thoughts: This is an incredible case fic. The murder mystery evolves into something so rich in detail that it blows my mind how the author kept up with all the threads of the plot. Harry being closeted hurt me down to my soul. Just.. the way he gave in to the expectations of others and never lived for himself. Twenty years. That's a long time to be lonely and consumed with a job that makes you miserable. I felt for him, and the fact that the author could write it in such a way to bring out such vivid emotions is incredible. The ones that make people feel deeply are the best kinds of stories, and that's what they've created here. Read this. Both the fic and the fan art that comes with it are absolutely gorgeous.
Life Lessons by bixgirl1 (E, 68k)
Thoughts: This was brilliant. The background plot of a shadowy figure menacing the Slytherins was engaging, and the side characters were brilliant, my favorite being Greg Goyle. Harry and Draco's chemistry was off the charts, and the snark and banter are everything I've come to expect from a bixgirl1 fic. The rimming scene was the hottest one I've ever read, so there's a ton to look forward to in this!
And an Owl Named Romeo by Rickey (E, 26k)
Thoughts: I love a good epistolary fic, and this was absolutely delightful. I loved the way Harry kept coming back to see Draco and kept writing to him even when he was rebuffed by a very prickly and standoffish Draco. Their characterizations were fantastic. Romeo was an absolute riot, and I loved him to pieces! The magical theory involved in owls and mail-carrying was really neat, and I thought it was cool how it fit into the case. And speaking of the case, the drama really came through as well! This made me feel all the feelings, and it was so wonderfully written and enjoyable.
Serpentes by xErised (E, 29k)
Thoughts: This was so fucking good. It was hilarious and intriguing and had me hooked from the very beginning. I read it in one sitting, and I was bereft when I got to the end because that meant there wasn't any more of it! Bacon was my absolute favorite thing about the fic. He stole the show and my heart. The case itself was heartbreaking with what they were doing to those poor snakes, but it sure did keep the tension high. I won’t say anymore except to assure you that the dancing and the smut were both hot as fuck and definitely worth checking out. Read this!
All the Earnest Young Men by Tepre (E, 29k)
Thoughts: Draco was perfect in this, maddening and insufferable and utterly insecure underneath. He drove everyone around him mad, including Harry, who avoided him like the plague. I enjoyed the time skips. It was an interesting and engaging way to experience the story. I loved Draco's clumsy attempts to make friends with Harry, and them at the museum was a riot. I laughed so much at this fic, but it was also full of such poignant moments between Harry and Draco. The intimacy of the sex scenes was breathtaking. Another favorite, for sure.
Kaleidoscope by Saras_Girl (E, 104k)
Thoughts: This was so insanely good, and I can't adequately express how much I enjoyed it. The pining was so potent in this that I felt the ache in my chest throughout the entire fic, and Harry's characterization was so damn good that it alone made me want to cry. Him rambling around in Grimmauld Place tending to his plants and sharing his home with Calliope and Patrick made for such a cozy and domestic scene even while Harry practically oozed longing for Draco from his very pores. I won’t spoil the plot, but this is my favorite Saras_Girl fic since Turn. It is a must-read, no doubt about it.
The Light More Beautiful by firethesound (E, 81k)
Thoughts: Draco was so clever and creative in this, and the way he felt about Harry took my breath away. He appreciated the exact things about him that make me love Harry so much as a character, and it was probably my favorite thing about this fic. The pining was achingly lovely, the banter and teasing were fun, and the smut was scorching hot. I loved everyone's rivalry with the famous Agnes from the Floo address department, and both Harry's and Draco's battle for approval of their department acronyms had me dying of laughter. This fic was fantastic and definitely worth a read.
A Sword Laid Aside by korlaena (E, 128k)
Thoughts: This fic is a gem. It is utterly original in both idea and execution. I love the fact that the author went with older versions of Harry and Draco than I usually see in fics, and I adore how they nurture each other throughout their ordeal on the run. Absolutely fantastic.
Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love by aibidil (E, 80k)
Thoughts: This approached the issue of consent so well, and I love it when fics make me think as much as they entertain me. This did both in spades. Hermione was a fucking rock star in this. I almost enjoyed her more than Harry and Draco, tbh. But I still loved them, of course! The switching perspectives made for a rich and intense bit of story-telling. It just really enhanced the whole thing. The arguments both for and against the use of love and lust potions, the fight to make them illegal, and then everyone dealing with the ongoing harassment Hermione and her loved ones were experiencing all made for a compelling read.
Harry and Draco's rocky relationship taking place throughout all this was so fun to see develop. Their banter was amazing. I loved the tension, and it only made the release all the sweeter when it finally happened. The many moments of levity throughout the fic were what surprised me the most. I didn't expect to laugh as much as I did for a fic that covered such heavy topics, but it was rife with humor.
A Lick and a Promise by tackytiger (E, 55k)
Thoughts: The characterizations were phenomenal, and the outpouring of emotion inherent to the author's style was so present throughout this. I found the case fascinating, and the magical theory involved behind both the stolen magic, how vampirism worked here, and the sentience of Hogwarts had me hooked and so utterly impressed by the author's creativity. Harry and Draco's banter was excellent, and their passion made my toes curl delightfully. Highly recommend.
#hp fandom#drarry#rec list#drarry rec list#case fic#mystery#suspense#if you haven't read them#wtf are you waiting for?!#your mfl will thank me#cheers#Temnurus rec list
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Princess - Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.
Prompt: Hangman is an obnoxious man and very keen on making your life a living hell after you told him off. But what happens when you’ve got tired of all of this?
Words: ~3.3k
Warning: Sad, mention of death and suicidal thoughts. Minors DNI. English is not my first language so sorry for the easy vocabulary and bad grammar…
Note: This is my first Top Gun fic, please be kind. This is only part one as I made it extra long sorry. HIGHLY UNEDITED.
Part 2.
————————————————————————
Hangman could swear he found you insufferable. That evening when you passed the door of The Hard Deck with Rooster, scanning the room for your squadronmates, Hangman held his breath. He found you hot and cute but seeing you with Rooster maybe meant that you were together, which saddened him. But he was soon comforted.
“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.” “Hangman. You look… good.” “Well I am good, Rooster. I am very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.” “Anyway, guys this is Princess, a fellow pilot at the Golden Warriors.” Rooster introduced you to the group. “Well hello there princess. Why do they call you that? Because you’re hot-” Okay is he flirting with you? Seems like the type to be honest. “-or because you’re a kiss-ass?” Okay maybe he’s just an asshole.
“Excuse me?” You stutter. “Well I don’t know, Princess as a call sign? Seems like you’re here because you kissed some admiral’s ass. You see you don’t resemble the type of pilots we usually see.” Coyote turns around, whispering to him. “Look at her name tag.” Hangman does so but he doesn’t seem to care. “Just for your information, Bagman, my call sign is Princess because I am William “King” McLeary’s daughter, it has nothing to do with any admiral whatsoever. In fact, I piss them off more often than I like to admit.-”
“True that.” Rooster murmurs. “-Second of all, you seem like a narcissistic asshole, with constant need of approval by your peers and mommy issues considering how you like to flirt with literally anything that breathes.” “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Hard of hearing and anger issues, we’re going somewhere.” “Don’t talk about my mother like that you bitch.” “Wow, that escalated quickly.” You add.
“You don’t like being put back at your place so you feel the need to insult anyone that contradicts you? How progressive. You need to grow up and realize everything doesn’t revolve around you. Look in a mirror from time to time and see how pathetic your life is before assuming things you didn’t even background check. Think before you talk, you’ll see it’s a good way to prevent you saying stupid shits. On that note, I’m gonna go get a drink. You can go back to your pool game and your miserable life.”
Everyone is taken aback by your monologue. Apparently nobody had every stood up to Hangman before you except to make snarky remarks.
You call Penny over and greet her as you haven’t seen her in a long time. “How are you doing Hon? It’s been so long. I heard about your father I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, I’m doing better, it’s not like it was unexpected, he’d been sick for a while.” “What can I get you?” “A beer please, I’m gonna need it to spend the night with that douchebag over there.” You point to Hangman as he gives you a deadly look.
“What has he done this time?” “You know the usual arrogant pilot thing, getting cocky and insulting people without arguments.” “Tell me about it.” You chuckle and take your beer. “How much do I owe you, Penn?” “It’s on Maverick tonight.” She points to a guy on the other side of the bar. You laugh. “It’s fine, I’ll get it. Put him out of his misery.” “Alright.”
As you go back to your squadronmates, Hangman heads towards the bar and whispers to you. “You shouldn’t have said that. You’re gonna regret it.” “Yeah sure.” You roll your eyes. If eyes could kill, you’d be dead ten time by now
As the first week passes you are constantly met with Hangman’s mean remarks about your name. You’re used to it and you don’t really care but today it has gone up a level. He is decided on making your life a living hell and for you to leave the mission before it happens.
This morning you found dirt all over your clothes, which made them impossible to wear, so you had to do a full laundry before going to class, which made you late. At noon he made you trip at the mess and you ended up on your butt, covered in sauce as your tray spilt on you. And he constantly ridiculed you in class, marking snarky remarks in class in front of Maverick.
The next day was no better, you shower stuffs were emptied all over the bathroom floor, constant devaluation of your performances in class, yet again, snarky remarks which made everyone laugh, except for your best friend Rooster, who tried to stop him but couldn’t. You feel like if he could, he would have gladly beaten you up in your sleep, which made you sleep bad for more than a week now.
Your lack of sleep affected your performances in the sky, which made you go down in Maverick’s esteem and the overall charts. Being a solo pilot meant that you didn’t have anyone but yourself to protect, but lately you were making dangerous manoeuvres and wishing you’d just crash just to stop having to deal with the constant pressure of Hangman wanting to defeat you.
As you go back to your quarters after yet a disastrous day you can’t help but break down. Hangman’s means were up the roof to make you leave and you couldn’t handle it anymore. Lately, because of your disastrous results, he had made a remark about you not living up to your dad’s legacy which ultimately lead to your downfall.
You couldn’t handle it anymore and as soon as you passed the shower door you fell down of your knees and started crying. You didn’t think a simple – yet true – remark about Hangman’s true nature could have led to a week of constant harassment and suicidal thoughts on your part. As you were sat under the running shower, fully clothed and crying to the point of not being able to breathe properly Natasha entered.
“Hello? I heard crying are you okay?” She saw you, and immediately came to you. “Oh my god, Princess are you alright?” You couldn’t manage an answer and kept on crying.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” You shake your head, not being able to mutter a single word. She cut off the water and sat next to you, holding you in her arms.
After several minutes of you constantly crying and not being able to catch your breath you finally managed to calm down a bit and explain to Phoenix why you were like this.
“I’m gonna quit. I’m gonna go back to the Warriors and leave you guys to it I’m not cut for this job anyway.” “Gosh, is this because of Seresin?” You didn’t answer but your tears doubled and she understood. “Look, Hangman’s a douchebag, you shouldn’t listen to him. You bruised his ego so he tries to do anything to get back at you but it’s nothing. He’s just an insecure little boy.”
“It’s more than that he’s made my life a living hell. The other day I was late to class because I had to redo all my laundry because of him, and the time he made me trip and fall at the mess? I can’t sleep because I fear he’s gonna show up during the night and beat me to death. And recently he’s been talking about my dad and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve been shitty in the sky because of his remarks in class, I won’t be chosen for the mission so better yet go back to my normal life. I’ll tell my decision to Captain Mitchell and the admiral today.”
Phoenix held you tighter as she felt saddened about everything you just told her, she couldn’t imagine what had happened because you never told anyone. She felt sick that anyone could be this mean to anybody and not feel guilty about anything.
As she managed to get you to bed and let you sleep because you definitely needed it, she goes up to Jake with the sole intention of telling him off. “Bagman!” “It’s still Hangman.” “Whatever. What the fuck did you do to McLeary?” “Nothing more than she deserved.” He replied, not guilty in the slightest.
“She just told me that you made her life a living hell, pulling shits on her constantly, making snarky remarks, terrifying her to the point that she cannot get a single minute of sleep at night. Wearing her down to the point that she wants to kill herself whenever she’s up there. What the fuck is wrong with you? She just told you the truth, something that none of us could have had the guts to tell you upfront and you decided, instead of thinking about it and doing better, that it was best to give her suicidal thoughts and depression? Grow the fuck up Seresin, this isn’t kindergarten anymore. You’re thirty for fuck’s sake. Of course you’re a womanizer and maybe you in fact need constant validation by your friends but it’s not a reason to push someone over the edge. As she said, look in a mirror, you’ll see how pathetic you are, even more than you used to be.”
Jake froze the instant Natasha told him Y/N wanted to kill herself when flying. It made him think about his attitude and how he ended up in this situation. Don’t get me wrong, it is highly unusual for Jake to even think twice about the way he acted, but he never wanted to push anyone to the point of no return. He just wanted you to quit so he wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore.
The next day when you show up to class, Natasha can’t help but notice the even bigger bags under your eyes. You don’t smile, you don’t even look alive. You were determined to give you resignation at the end of today, you just couldn’t handle it anymore. This was worse than the basic training you had to do to become a pilot, the torture they put you through as a final test, in case you had to crash in an enemy territory – of course you can’t give any information about you or your bosses of anything for that matter – but the torture was nothing compared to this. Because the torture you could handle just fine, the pressure was like adrenaline to you, but this was a totally different scenario. You had said something in the first place that led you here. In a real torture scenario, you would have kept your mouth shut.
As you sit at the very back of the class, not being able to comprehend a single word that comes out Maverick’s mouth you think about your father. The King was the greatest alongside Maverick and Iceman. They had graduated together and made a great team whenever they went on missions. He was rear-admiral during the time Iceman was admiral and they retired around the same period. About a year ago, your father became really sick and eventually died a couple of months ago. He was your hero, he gave you the love for flying and the envy to do great in the navy. So when you graduated Top Gun – a year before Hangman and Rooster – he was obviously the proudest father in the world. You thought he was the greatest – alongside Iceman and Maverick – and hearing Jake say that you didn’t live up to your father’s legacy made you lose all control.
You had always tried to make him proud and very often succeeded, you were the only one – with Jake – to have confirmed kills in the Navy. Jake didn’t know about it and you weren’t the type to brag around unlike him. But you always hoped you made everyone in your family proud.
The hours you spent in the sky that day weren’t great either, you almost had to eject because of a bird strike but eventually managed to regain control of your jet. You stayed alarmingly quiet up there, not joking like you used to, just giving the minimum of communication that was required of you. Your voice felt cold and sad and everyone seemed to have noticed it but they didn’t say anything to you by fear of saying something wrong. Even Hangman didn’t make snarky remarks to you today. And you were grateful that you didn’t have to fly a single time with him. But your mind was set and at the end of the day you were going to talk to Maverick about your decision.
“Captain Mitchell, may I have a word with you?” You asked. Your face and tone remained neutral which was actually destabilizing for him, as the usual spring in your step and smiley face weren’t there to welcome him.
“Lieutenant McLeary, how may I help you?” Somewhat he remained professional. “I wish to resign from the mission, I’m afraid I am not cut out for it and I feel like I’m taking the place of someone that would be more deserving than… me.” He let out a small sigh. “What guided your decision Lieutenant?” Maverick wasn’t blind, he noticed the constant meanness of Hangman and the fact that you were unusually quiet and sad today.
“My results are too low compared to the others and I feel like my dad’s passing is taking a toll on me right now.” “Come on Y/N-” Maverick got angry which made him lose his seriousness. “I practically raised you. You’re not even going to say the goddamn ass’s name? You’re perfectly cut for this mission as Iceman and I are the one that approved all the candidates. We had the shortest discussion when it came to you and Rooster, it was an automatic yes for you both because we knew that you two are the best of the best. So admit that someone made you take that decision and that your flying performances are not due to your father passing.”
Tears crept to your eyes has you were trying to keep a composed face in front of your superior. “I don’t know what you are talking about Captain. As I told you, my father’s death – although expected – was a great shock for me and I wasn’t ready to let him go.” Maverick sighed to your answer. “Alright, but please, give yourself and everyone one more chance. Come to The Hard Deck tonight with us and see if you change your mind.” “I really don’t think it’s a good idea Captain.” “Please, one last chance, and if anything goes wrong I’ll let you go on the spot and I’ll deal with the admiral myself.” You thought of it a second. What was worst? Having to keep a straight face and lie to the admiral to avoid Hangman being reprimanded or spend the evening with happy people and inevitably ruining their evening with your sadness?
“Alright. An hour and then I’m gone.” Maverick’s face erupted into a soft smile. “Come on, I’ll buy you a beer. Don’t tell anyone.” You couldn’t help but laugh.
That evening you were sat at the bar with Maverick and talking about everything and nothing. “So, are you going to say his name? We’re not at the base, I’m uncle Pete and you’re just Y/N, so tell me what happened.” You sighed deeply. “Ever since that first night here, Hangman has made my life a living hell on the sole reason that he doesn’t accept someone telling him the truth about himself.” “What did you say to him?” “That he was a narcissistic asshole with mommy issues, anger issues and constant need of validation.” “You should have added arrogance and small dick in the mix.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah.” Is your only reply as you drink a gulp of your beer. “I’m gonna go catch some fresh air, I’ll be back in a few.” “Alright I’ll wait for you here.”
As you headed toward the back door – the one that led to the beach – you heard the obnoxious voice of Hangman saying hello to Penny. You rolled your eyes without looking back and pushed the door open.
You’re sat on the sand, facing the ocean, thinking about all the time you wasted here that could have been useful back at your base with the Golden Warriors. You got startled by a voice you knew too well. Yet this time it was soft and comforting. “Do you mind?” You didn’t reply but Jake sat down anyway. Since when did he need permission for anything anyway?
“You know why they call me Hangman?” You stayed silent once more. “It’s because they say that whenever we’re in danger, I’d rather save my own ass and get away from the conflict rather than sticking up to the enemy.” He paused. “But the truth is that I’m the one that fears them leaving me behind. So whenever I have the chance, I’d rather save myself than waiting for someone I trust to leave me to die.” You understood what he meant, yet didn’t say anything.
“Phoenix told me how you were feeling.” You closed your eyes, wanting him to stop talking.
“I don’t want you to die Y/N.” That’s the first time he has ever spoken your name in a nice manner. “I realized I pushed you too far and you shouldn’t feel the way you feel right now. I’ve been there when my mom died when I was little. So yeah, like you said, maybe not having my mother around probably gave me mommy issues and this constant need of validation. I shouldn’t have gotten angry about that. But the truth is, you were probably the first person to say it to my face. And having it said made the whole thing so much more realistic that I just snapped.”
“I’m sorry I did all those things to you, you didn’t deserve any of it. I know I’m never gonna be able to apologize enough for you to forgive me but I want you to know that I’m being genuine. I’m terribly sorry for everything.” He continued.
“I’ve had an appointment with a shrink just before coming here and he made me realize that you were right all along. I’m trying to be the bigger person and facing the reality now. I hope it’ll work. Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t up to the expectation and I’m sorry I talked about your father.”
The tears came crashing down on the sand but as you didn’t make any noise and it was dark, you suspect Jake hadn’t seen them. “I’m gonna go back, I won’t bother you anymore. I just wanted to be able to tell you everything.” You didn’t answer and he got up. You kept looking at the waves crashing on the sand and Jake leaving left a hole in your heart. The tears kept on coming, blurring your vision. You looked up at the stars, looking for one specific one. The one you always wished on with your father. “Dad, what should I do?” You asked the star.
After about an hour processing Hangman’s words you got up and headed back to the bar, your eyes red from the tears. Maverick noticed them when you sat back down next to him. “Penn!” He said quietly and motioned for her to give you another drink. “Thanks Penn.” He says.
“Is everything okay kiddo?” “I just spoke to my dad. It felt good. Relieving actually.” “And what did he tell you?” “That I should stay and fight to earn back my place.” You answer, eyes locked on the drop of water falling from your beer bottle. “Will you be alright?” “Yeah I think I will.” You look up at him with a small smile. “I think I will.”
#blurb#blurbs#imagine#pov#hangman#rooster#phœnix#payback#fanboy#coyote#top gun#Maverick#Jake hangman seresin#Jake seresin#hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#Bradley bradshaw#Natasha trace#natasha phoenix trace#Jake hangman seresin x reader#hangman x reader#Jake seresin x reader#x reader#jake seresin x you#hangman x you#fluff#angst#sad#princess#callsign mercy
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5 + 22 for ame!!!! :3
5 : first song in mind : depending on my mood really and how honed in i am the general themes i associate him with (how personal/human focused im imagining his issues to be in that moment) 🤤 but im gna be cringe and free rn and just say kirai kirai jiga hidai by kuragep is like easily fitting to me most of the time
22 : thing i like in fics with him vs thing i dont like : for something i like, i like when its an outside pov to him and hes like fucking weird in that specific way that really hits my marks 🤤🤤🤤 honestly its hard to explain for me... im pretty open to how his personality can be but 🤤 i like when he's not well adjusted but kind of persistently indestructible in how he behaves? like immovable object/unstoppable force lol...
as for something i don't like, thinking hard on this 🤔 i think. (trying not to come off as annoyingly prissy about his characterization...) ok putting it under in case i do just start to ramble
i don't like when people play into his hero thing with it being seen as a sincerely good honest untroubled thing like i read fics of other characters doing shit and hes something of a cop there and i start passing out really hard. i don't know i think he's generally disinterested in other people most of the time it's hard to put that with a Sincere hero talk without him just seeming like a hypocrite. obviously you could just make him not disinterested in people in ur fic for that but in my preference i'd just sacrifice his sincerity 🤤 also u make him a "cop hero" and i really just pass out so hard. getting up and leaving. sorry i can't do this shit...
well, i obviously like an ame thats ill in some ways, but i don't like when he feels too fragile personally(emphasis on personally)... this feels obvious with what i put for something i like lol. but i mean i like when something does totally destroy him but i need it to make sense in my head 🤤 though i don't mind it too hard since people do whatever mental stuff in their fics it just doesn't do it for me Personally...
this is just a lame and gay one but when he is too smooth suave whatever flirt 🙁 just total personal thing because i hate male characters who are not only handsome but like smooth and loveinterest-like and AME is my FAVORITE so he CAN'T be a CHARACTER TYPE i HATE!!!! (loud banging head on wall)
now i might make it seem like i would dislike a puppylike good honest ame. thats not true i like him like that too sometimes (when i wanna go aw... aw... aw.....)(then i start wanting to trap him in a cage) but i also want his flaws to be pulled to the front sometimes and maybe he can be forced to confront with his honest to god insufferableness or maybe other people have to. it relly depends 🤤 i like all kinds of ame it rly matters on execution i spose...
oh also i don't like when they overdo the deception thing i definitely talked about this before lol but when its master manipulator shit like 😕(BORED AS FUCK) idk. i just don't believe it. other people aren't that dumb. everypony knows you bucking lied. and if he's lying about something i'd like it if it's copium to himself too like im not a bad guy its just like this..!!! this is how it is!!! if ur gonna make him fucked up i'd like it if it's in a miserable world and no human has been or is sane bcz its miserable out here and everyone knows he lies nobody does anything about it cz argh whaetver... people have their own business all the time... i like lived in worlds and whenever everyone is caricatures while one guy is ReallySmart and pulling the strings it just doesn't feel grounded and i fall asleep
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genuine question abt ur bio.. whats wrong w little women? idk anything abt it :0 hope u have a good day!!
yes... what IS wrong w little women? in short it annoys me. i find it annoying. when i have to talk to little women lovers i start to go crazy and insane like that post about going on youtube without adblocker and turning into the riddler. i find the way most people discuss little women to be at best dick sucking levels of critical thinking (meaning none. they are just sucking dick) which whatever that's your business. but i love patterns and thinking and ripping books up so it does not work for me. mainly what i think is wrong w little women: people still talk about it. stop making movie adaptions stop WATCHING these movies adaptions stop it just stop it !!!!
little women well reading it you have fun. or i had fun. and the reason i had fun is because i have a parasocial relationship with louisa may alcott and i justknow she was a hater and i DO know she hated little women (this is because she is dead and you can just read her diary). but unfortunately other people that read little women and had fun well they don't have this insane girl bond with alcott so they aren't haters. alcott thought the concept for the book was boring and she only turned to writing it after facing critical failure with previous works. by critical failure i don't mean failure of critical levels i just mean critics did not like it. critics read moods and were like wow alcott you should try to unlearn the written word this sucks and she was like ok go fuck yourself what if i wrote the most boring shit on earth kill yourself and that's what makes reading little women fun the whole thing is double speak you know with every sentence alcott is mocking the entire book and the views presented in it she hated women she was like god this sucks.
alcott did not view the book as progressive she was having to include all kinds of shit... that book was about a household centered around a man and written to mirror books like pilgrims progress (pilgrims progress is this christian allegory like how narnia is about christianity like that only not fun). after it became popular she had to pull back on literally all the fun stuff in it bc she was so hateful and annoyed towards her fans she was like god can you all SHUT UP? just for that everyones lives are going to be miserable just for that im going to write the worst endings on earth for these little bitches and then she did and giggled with her friends about it
ok i lost my main point. my main point abt america just never shutting the fuck up about little women. to me these people just dont get it they literally dont theyre like wow little women...... feminist book about women written by a woman....... this is soooo great we should keep talking about these white women for the rest of all time like omg they literally had servants. be real. but people just continue to praise it without having anything of substance to say like ok girl can we move on can we talk about other books why are we stuck in the white women jogging track just walking around and around can we get out of here. people use little women and its impact on american culture as an excuse to just keep circling around white women it is literally 2023 can we talk about something else. little women fans are just insufferable to me they're trapped in this little women loop where because little women is "progressive" (i have other thoughts about this too) they never have to consider works by other groups of minorities and they never have to consider if theres anything fucked up and twisted about or being mainlined by its narrative. little women is an insincere book and its thematic messages are also insincere and if you read it knowing this then you can become an insane crazy guy like me and then i would loveeee to talk about little women with you. but unfortunately no one is doing this
#asks#yes im a hater. its very complex.#yes this post is incoherent. yes im still right. lots of moving parts here#i used to go on long winded rants about little women i used to call my sister and just be like i NEED to be a hater. can i be a hater#diary entry#little women#ive been reminded now of the time i used to be completely insane about this i might just start ranting and raving about little women now#yaaaaay thank you for sending a cute little ask and reading my tumblr about page i love you forever <3#if you want to know anything ever just ask me i love to talk etc. sorry if this does not make any sense at all
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‘why must you be so insufferable?’
That silly woman from the bakery was proving to be far more amusing than Celeste had first realised. Why she had been drawn to Sienna the day they had properly met, she didn't know, but here she was, weeks and months down the line, still finding herself occupying the other girl's free (and peaceful) time. But what the mechanic did know, was that her reactions to her behaviour never grew old.
It was early evening and the woman was heading home from a shift at Manning Mechanics. She had worked there since high school, its owner, Tim, was one of the very few people in town who was actually willing to give Celeste their time of day. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, strands at the front frizzing out, specks of black oil smudged on her white t-shirt. Wrong choice of clothing for her profession. She wore a dark corduroy jacket over the top, house keys in her hand. Only a short walk home, she had turned the corner when she had been greeted with a sight no one wanted to see after a long day at work.
Sienna... no, that wasn't the bad sight, it was was the added bonus. That... stupid woman the bakery owner had taken a likening to over the past few weeks. And for saying she was so insistent that relationships were pathetic, that hookups were the zest of life, Celeste really didn't like that nagging voice in the back of her head whenever she saw the pair together. She thought the woman was sad, really. Really fucking sad, dull, such a bore! All she did was bring her flowers, and kiss her, and call her 'beautiful'... how lame was that?
They could have had so much more fun together.
That nagging feeling was starting to grow jarring on the mechanic, however. And whenever Celeste needed a way to escape how miserable she felt about something, what was the best way to cheer her up? By making the lives of others equally as miserable.
Ironic to do that to a girl she found hot.
Keeping her distance, she had watched the pair say goodbye to one another, folding her arms over and her lips curling into a bemused smirk as she watched the way the stupid woman kissed Sienna on the cheeks multiple times, called her a multitude of nicknames in the process. It was in that moment that Sienna had, subtly, noticed she was watching, her smile dropping slightly at the intrusion.
Celeste made a silent gagging gesture with her hand as Sienna's... fling? Vanished away. It was then that she laughed, shaking her head as she began to make her way over to the girl in red, whom rolled her eyes at the movement.
"Jelly... bean?" Celeste snickered, tilting her head a little as the pair between them shrank. "I must say, I admire you ability to stomach such sickly things, Sienna. It's honourable." She taunted, "Oh, my darling marshmallow, how squishy your cheeks look today! I could just eat you all up!" Her voice was naturally quite low, but she twisted her tone into something high-pitched and sickly sweet, mocking her date. She attempted to pinch the girl's cheeks but Sienna quickly swatted her hand away.
Celeste shrugged, her voice dropping again. "Pathetic, really."
Sienna huffed, "Why must you be so insufferable?"
Excellent question. Why? Because it's all Celeste knew how to do, knew what to be. In a world that had rejected her, abandoned her and left her to fend for herself, she had learned that if she was going to survive it, she was at least going to make everyone suffer in the process. And she meant everyone. Seeing people grow irritated, annoyed, riled up by her behaviour? It was such a delight.
"Why?" She repeated, moving in a little closer and shoving her oiled hands into her jacket pockets, blowing a strand out hair away from her face. "'Cause... getting to see your cute, little face squirm and wither up like that simply from my choice of words? It truly brightens my day, sweetheart. More than anything you could imagine." Glancing behind her, she noticed that her date had vanished out of sight, making her smirk deepen. Now she could really have her fun.
Looking back, the pair weren't too far from the wall of a building. Almost effortlessly, the taller woman placed her hand firmly against the wall, moving in so Sienna stepped backwards and was suddenly pushed against the wall. She wouldn't cross boundaries, but she made a point to get just a little closer, her voice dropping to a low mumble, something tempting in her voice, "Besides... making you wither is a speciality of mine, no?"
One night. That's all it had been. One tiny, little mistake, lost in the bedsheets of the bakers apartment. And yet here they were, weeks on, their minds and lips still contemplating that evening. At least, for the mechanic, she was. It hadn't exactly been a positive experience in the end, Celeste, rather bluntly, leaving without much to say, without wanting to say much, seeing it as a good time and nothing else. Her behaviour had, understandably, left a sour taste in Sienna's mouth, and things had been rocky since. But neither of them could deny it; those moments spent together, hours before, lost in each other's bodies? It had been euphoric, almost, their moans and grinding filling the room in such a rhythm, their skin hot and flustered, their fingertips static from the sensation.
"Tell me..." She continued, leaning in towards the girl's ear, hearing her let out a slight gasp but hardly reject the motions. "... Do you moan like that for her? The way you did for me?" The girl said nothing, she just stared ahead, acting like she wasn't there. Celeste was used to people doing that. It made her smile, her lips pulling into a wolfish grin, eyes staring intensely at the girl, something slightly golden to them. Hearing nothing, she nodded, looking aside for a moment before back to the girl again.
Her answer was clearly no.
She hummed once. "Just curious! S'all." It was then she pulled away, leaning back, rolling her shoulders before leaving the girl in peace. Walking backwards for a moment, she gave her a smirk, a devilish wave, anything to leave her thinking on it later.
"You know me, princess," She snickered, turning back around so her back faced the other woman. "I like to eat."
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Delusional Loser / Quirky Artsy Boy
The day is 26th February. It's a Sunday and I really want some fucking tiramisu. I'm listening to 'Flounder' by Quinnie and I'm just kind of sad in general. H is like I shouldn't write this down, that it’s not good for me but like fuck off for a minute. I need this !! or have I just convinced myself I do (also don't fuck off).
Track 1 - Man
I'm just really forlorn listening to this. I just want to cry but no real tears come out. It feels really odd how I've built up this whole situationship ( it never even was a situationship to him) in my head. Not even odd, just miserable. How delusional am I ? He never felt this way about me, he probably never felt anything about me. I made up this whole idea of us in my mind only for my thoughts to be clipped and burned in the town square.
Track 2 - Security Question
'Are you my friend now? You follow me and I follow you. In the morning we pass quietly on the street'
I think you mentioned once, if I liked you or the idea of you. First of all get off your fucking romcom and second of all I don't think it even mattered. Okay, maybe it mattered a little...
Track 3 - Itch
I love the line 'proof of God in your soup'.
I don't know if it could really get better than this.
Maybe I was so eager to jump head first into this because it was so novel (do I have trauma from this now ?). I just so desperately wanted to be loved by someone in a new way. Sure I knew my parents and my family cared for me. My friends did too, but I really wanted a 'love'. After years of constant rejections and 'I don't feel the same way' 's and ' You're really nice' and ' I'm not really looking for a boyfriend' or ' I have a boyfriend'. I coveted a relationship so brutally. Maybe that's why I resorted to making one up in my head.
I felt quite alone coming here. I'd left all my friends and family, and though it was nice to start afresh it was also scary and boring. The routinely introductions
'Hi I'm [so and so..]'
[They talk about themselves] 'That's so interesting' says me.
Don't get it wrong! I loved meeting people. I loved talking to all these new people, but it just felt like talking to new people (never making any friends). I wished for camaraderie, not acquaintances. It was so hard, I remember just crying in my cheer thinking about how alone I felt here. No real friends at that point, no one to really call on that was close by. I didn't want my parents to know that I was having such a hard time here (sure I've always been a bit out there, but I didn't know I was that out there that I was struggling this much to make friends). That was just exasperated by how I struggled to find flatmates . Sure Saskia offered, but that didn't work out. I was meant to find something with G but she did her own thing (which I'm happy about). I'm stuck in student accommodation for another year (which has it's perks), but I feel like I've failed. I'm flunking this whole university thing. I'm not failing my classes, but I'm not excelling like I did in secondary school. I've made some friends (who I adore), but I don't have a friend group. I've failed to find flatmates, so I've failed the quintessential uni house experience (don't say ohh everyone's experience is different, but I'm certainly an outlier here). I've failed to shed the skin of awkward me. Aloof me. off-putting me. Unseemly me. insufferable me. sad me. unlovable me. I don't know if this is making me feel better or not, but I certainly am feeling things.
I wonder sometimes if I am actually emoting or if I do genuinely feel my emotions. Am I actually tempestuous or am I just histrionic (and trying to feign these emotions to keep myself sane). Do I actually feel this way or I do I feel like I'm meant to feel this way. Am I sad or should I be sad here. Would crying make this moment better? Would me pushing myself into pensive gloom make this moment better? Smile it's better to smile to feel better. I put on a fake smile and it really doesn't make me feel better.
How should I respond that I don't make the other person uncomfortable. Am I sending too many texts? Is that an appropriate response ? No !!! It's not apologise NOW. I'm sorry for saying that, ' I don't mean that I mean blah blah blah' . I didn't mean to scare you (ok I did mean to scare you a little but not a lot, just a slight unsettling) .
Why do I look so forlorn all the time. Everyone says it - My parents, Zara, Jack. Do they see something in me I don't even see myself?
I should move on to the next song.
Track 4 - Touch Tank
I love you Adam (my favourite cowboy ). I just saw you sent me a message
This just reminds me of the summer of 2022 so much. Me being on the train to work at Five Guys. I just sing along to every word of it as the carriage races through the country side.
'He's so pretty when he goes down on me'
I'm not going to make this about you, because why would I do that to myself. Maybe at point I felt the saccharine way this song portrayed but I don't now, so I'll save it for someone else.
Track 5- popcorn & juice
This is so comforting. The past has evolved into some bagel of comfort. School and movies and staying up late. I miss how things used to be.
Track 6 - get what u get & Track 7 - emblem
' the burden is mine and you get what you get'
These emotions are all mine, and clearly not yours.
'The simplest joys are the ones most profound'.
Maybe this song is about me. I do feel like I'm healing in some way. Maybe this is cathartic. Maybe this is working
'when you step out/ the world steps in to meet you'
Track 8 - better
I just want to blame myself for it all. Who else can I ? It's all my fault I feel this way.
' and what he did to me is just another Diddy I can play'
or I guess in my case write about.
'I don't know why I don't want to get better, I wanna stay the same/ And I say that I'll figure it out once all my songs are sang'
or in my case once I've said all the things I want to say.
I really liked you, I know that's true. Possibly want true for you. No, I know it wasn't true for you. I guess you ended things gently. I don't want to see you anymore, but I do. I want us to be friends, but I don't want keep hurting. I don't hurt when you're around just hours later when I recap the depressive slides in the projector of my mind. Just moments like this. Most of the time I just laugh at the absurdity of it all. It feels so invalidating towards my feelings to know it wasn't real.
Track 9 - Promise
Damn I'm sobering up and this is embarrassingly simpy. You don't deserve all this dedicated to you. Am I emoting again? I really think about you all that often anymore (honestly)
I love the last minute of this track. I wish I still had a harp, so I could play music and be happy. I want to play music so badly. I love instruments. I love creating.
Track 10 - Flounder
I've come to love this song so much.
'Turns into the world we choose to see'
Track 11 - Jake's Car (Final Track)
This song definitely feels like a final track. A parting kiss. I want to say this left me with nothing, but I'm glad that I met you and we had nothing. Glad I met H though.
Bonus - Fashion Killa by Asap Rocky
This is a nice pick me up.
Closing remarks while I listen to
Rumble -Skrillex, Fred Again & Flowdan.
It was nice seeing sungwook on my way back from my unsuccessful tiramisu hunt. Why is it so hard to find tiramisu (ended up with a chocolate fudge cake - wasn't bad but chocolate frosting too is just too much). The walk made me think about how dead this uni town is. Like the only good thing about it is the uni. For the life of me do better. And as 'candy gun' by Melt-Banana plays I end this mess of a post.
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Study Date - Casey Jones [2012]
Note: Once again, another old one. I don't see a lot of Casey imagines, and he's one of my favorite characters so I thought I'd write a little something for this boyo! Have a great day/night! Thanks for reading! <3
Warning: le cringe, mature language, cliche-ness, stupid pick up lines?.
It was known to most that Y/n L/n found Casey Jones to be insufferable. He was absolutely infuriating. There wasn't much he could do to actually make her not hate him. He was ignorant, and loud. He flirted with every girl within a ten mile radius. Sadly, it appeared that Y/n was one of those girls. She told him to knock it off constantly, but he'd only smirk and try harder. She wasn't playing hard to get, she just wasn't interested. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
Even though Casey was an absolute moron, there were other factors to him that made Y/n want to explode, in a good way. Like the fact that he was selfless, he wanted to protect New York and all of it's citizens. Even if he didn't get any credit for it. Or if she was having a really bad day, he'd try to make her laugh or smile, by doing the stupidest things, or he'd simply be a shoulder for her to cry on. He was someone to vent to.
Let's just say that Casey's and Y/n's relationship is complicated. Very complicated.
The sun was blocked by a hoard of raging clouds. It was snowing in New York City and everyone who wasn't inside- wanted to be, because it was so fucking cold Y/n thought her nose was going to fall off. She pulled her coat closer to her frame, trying to block the wind and failing miserably. It didn't take long for her to find a alleyway with a manhole for her to climb down.
Manholes, as one might not know, are extremely heavy. It didn't help that it was covered in slush that was once snow. It slipped from her hands and crashed against the ground. She flinched from the impact, cursing under her breath and quickly glancing over her shoulder to see if that just attracted any unwanted attention. Surprisingly, no one seemed to care that a wimpy teenage girl was trying to crawl into the sewers during the middle of a snow storm. With a heavy sigh, she took her gloves off for more friction and tried again, this time pushing it off to the side. It took a while, and she was almost positive her fingers were goimg to fall off, but she managed to open it. Y/n muttered curses under her breath as she climbed down into the darkness of the sewers. She was half way down when she realised she could barley see her hands in front of her face. You would think after all this time coming down here, she would learn to bring a flashlight. Nope!
"You've got to be kidding me." with the sudden realization that she could possibly slip and fall, dread struck the frozen girl. She glanced down, trying to figure out her footing as she slowly made her way down.
She was just a few steps away from the ground when, you guessed it, her foot slipped and she slid from where she was and stumbled to the sewer's floor. Luckily, she didn't fall on her ass, but she did step in a deep ass puddle. One of her feet were now both frozen, and soaking. How fun...
"Fuck.. Fucking fuck! That's just fucking great!" she grumbled, balling her hands into fists and kicking the ground angrily. Y/n took a deep breath through her nose before she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone. She turned the flashlight on and began to walk forwards, her hands were frozen and now so was her foot. With her luck, things were about to get ten times worse.
By the time Y/n had gotten to the lair, she was absolutely miserable. Her foot was numb from the cold, causing her to limp a little since she couldn't actually feel it. Okay, maybe she was being a little over dramatic, but she didn't care!
She stumbled into the lair, she felt like a drunk idiot who couldn't walk straight, though it was mostly just the fact that she was fucking pissed.
"Woah, Y/n, what happened to you?" Leo asked, peering over at her from his spot in front of the tv. Space Heroes playing in the background, Y/n held back a snort. "Fucking cold." was all she muttered, walking further into the room.
"Is it still snowing out there?" Donnie asked as he walked into the room, coffee mug in hand.
"No, I'm just soaked from all the fucking hail. What do you think?" she huffed, slumping down on the 'couch' and closing her eyes for a moment.
"Someone's in a bad mood, I know, do you want some hot chocolate! I just made a new batch! Oh and cookies, we have cookies from April! And a blanket, I'll be right back!" Mikey got up and ran to the kitchen, Y/n smiled a bit and rolled her eyes. Mikey was Mikey, what else was she going to expect?
Y/n shrugged her coat off and kicked her shoes off and tossed them behind her, her foot was soaked and she groaned in annoyance.
"Seriously though, what happened?" Leo asked, pausing his show to give her more of his attention.
"I slipped on my way down the stupid latter." she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I swear, if I get frostbite I'm holding you all personally responsible. You and Mother Nature, she can kiss my ass."
Leo laughed, shaking his head a little as he returned his attention back to the television. Y/n stretched her hands above her head, listening as her back cracked a bit from the action. Mikey ran back into the room shortly afterwards, a huge ass blanket flung over one arm. A cup of hot chocolate in one hand, and a plate of cookies in the other. Y/n smiled up at him and grabbed the stuff gently. He helped wrap the blanket around her as she sipped the hot chocolate carefully.
"Thanks, Mikey, you're officially my favorite." she grinned up at him, snuggling into the blanket he brought for her.
His eyes brightened, "Really?! I'm your favorite! Booya! Suck it guys! Did you hear that Raph?" Mikey grinned, swinging around as his brother walked into the room, followed by Casey. Y/n's chest tightened, and she quickly looked away and tried to focus on eating her cookies to distract herself.
Raph chuckled, "Yeah, I heard her, Mike.."
Mikey grinned, and teased them a bit more before he snatched up his phone and returned to playing whatever game he was playing.
"Awe, N/n, I thought I was your favorite." Casey pouted, plopping down in the spot next to her and slinging a arm across her shoulders.
Y/n's nose scrunched up at the action, she brought up one of her hands and placed it on his face, shoving him away from her, literally. "In your dreams, Jones. You're far from being my favorite." she snorted, nibbling on her cookie.
Casey huffed, "C'mon, don't be like that..." he whined, placing his chin on her shoulder.
"You really want me to kick your ass, don't you?" she sighed, brushing some hair away from her face.
He smirked, "Sounds kinda kinky, sure babe, I mean.. If that's what you want~"
Y/n's face darkened, she elbowed him in the side, quite roughly as she shoved the remainder of her cookie in her mouth. Rolling her eyes as he winced, making an 'oof' sound as he rolled onto his back, pretending to be more hurt than he actually was.
"If you were smart, Case, you'd stop now." Raph warned, smirking between the two as he plopped down on his bean bag chair.
"Yeah, but he's a fucking dumb ass." she retorted, downing the rest of her hot chocolate, ignoring the burning sensation that was left behind.
"True." Mikey spoke up from his spot on the floor, currently laying on a small pile of pillows. His gaze never lifted from his phone but a cheeky grin didn't stretch across his face.
"You guy's are teaming up on me? That's not very nice! Or fair!" Casey sat back up and pouted, rubbing the area she elbowed.
"Life isn't fair." Y/n said snarkily, dusting the crumbs off her hands and chest.
"She's got a point." Leo hummed, eyes glued to the screen as he listened in on the whole ordeal.
"Wow, you're all so mean! What did I ever do to you?" Despite acting hurt, a wide smirk had spread across his features. His eyes were currently glued to Y/n as he waited for an answer.
"How about annoy the shit out of everyone?" She said, pretending to pay attention to the television screen but she really had no idea what was going on and was currently wondering what cologne Casey wore.
"She's got you there, Case." Raph snickered, pretending to be doing something on his T-phone but she knew he was watching Space Heroes.
"Yeah yeah, whatever. I know you all love me and my company." He crossed his arms over his chest and leant back against the couch.
"I beg to differ." Y/n smirked, glancing over towards him.
"You just really love to pick on me, huh?" Casey grinned back, leaning towards her with his arms still crossed over his chest.
"You make it awfully easy." Y/n stuck her tongue out at him before looking back towards the screen.
Casey mimicked her actions, silent for a few seconds before deciding to speak once more. "Go on a study date with me."
Y/n nearly choked on the air around her, snapping her gaze in his directions as her face heated to an impossibly embarrassing shade of red. "What? No!"
Bold of you to just say that out of the blue, Jones. But there is no way I'm agreeing to go on a date with you... I'd never live it down.. she thought, wanting to groan just at the thought of all the teasing. And only half of it would come from the turtles, the rest would come from Casey who'd just love to rub it in her face. "Just ask Donnie or April to help you. I'm not as smart as either of them anyway and you'll probably do better with one of them."
"They're busy, they have a bunch of experiments and tests planned. Besides I want you to help me."
"Well that's just too bad because it's not happening."
"Why not?" He definitely noticed her massive blush, which only caused the cocky bastard to cockily smirk at her like the cocky cock he was. It didn't help that he had tilted his head to the side a bit, which she found to be utterly adorable. And on top of it all, everyone who was currently in the room had completely paused what they were doing to watch the scene unfold. Y/n wanted to die right then and there.
"There are many, many reasons as to why I wouldn't want to do any of that with you." She said stubbornly, biting he inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying any more.
"Well I'd like to know these reasons. Especially if they are keeping you and I apart." How was it possible that his smirk was growing?! He needed to stop that right now or else she'd combust into flame right then and there.
"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. First of all, you and studying is practically laughable. You wouldn't do any of the studying, you'll just goof around and probably flirt with me. Which is very annoying, and I'd end up having to do most if not all of the work. Which leads me to my next point. You definitely read too much into the word date. You're just going to do a bunch of weird romantic couple-y stuff and there really isn't any point in even calling it a study date because there will be no studying so you might as well just take me out on a real one- wait I didn't mean it like that!" If it was possible, her blush had darkened even more.
"So what you're saying is.. you want to go on an actual date with me?" If he doesn't wipe that stupid smirk off his face I swear-
"No! Just..." she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily, "Fine I'll help you, but we're actually studying and if you don't study I'm gonna kick your ass so hard-"
"Sweet. Just text me the time and place and we can hang."
"I hate you."
"I think this was more interesting to watch than Space Heroes." It was at this moment Leo barley dodged a pillow which was violently thrown in his direction by the lovely Y/n.
"Everything and anything is more interesting than Space Heroes you doofus."
***
A few days had passed and Y/n had finally gotten the chance to text Casey. Well, she had the chance earlier however she was stalling. Though she knew she had to do it eventually, it was easier to stall the inevitable. Y/n tapped her fingers against her knee as she awaited his reply. Eyes glued to her screen as she saw three dots appear.
Y/n:
I'm free tonight if you're available?
Stupidhead🖤:
I'm not sure I'd have to check my schedule... 😉
Y/n:
Casey don't be a dickhole. Are you free or not?
Stupidhead🖤:
Yeah babe, I'm free. What time do you want to meet up? Yours or mine?
Y/n:
Meet me in 15 minutes at my place.
Stupidhead🖤:
Wow. I'm surprised you didn't say anything about the babe comment. Does that mean you want me to call you babe? 😉 😜
Y/n:
Absolutely not. Would you have stopped even if I did comment on it?
Stupidhead🖤:
No, probably not. ✌️
Y/n:
There you go. See you soon, Jones. Don't be late.
Stupidhead🖤:
Aye aye, Captain.
Was it bad to feel butterflies because of Casey Jones? Y/n was unsure, whatever the answer she knew they came because of him. Sighing, she pushed herself up and off of her bed and despite reminding herself that this was not a date, Y/n thought that it would be best to dress herself up a little anyway. She was in fact just wearing her pajama's, and although she normally had no problem dressed like a slob in front of her friends, today felt different. Maybe because of all the date teasing? Shaking her head to rid herself of those ludicrous thoughts she returned her attention to her closet. Y/n knew Casey would notice if she dressed up for him, so she planned on going casual. She slipped into a black long sleeve crop top and a pair of ripped jean short overalls, knee high stockings and lastly a random sweater she was positive belonged to Casey. She made sure to keep the sweater open and unzipped to show off her outfit a bit. Y/n knew Casey would notice if she wore makeup when she usually didn't at home, so all she did was place a little concealer under her eyes, curl her lashes, and apply a bit of lip balm. She had ten minutes till Casey arrived and she was planning on using this time to prepare. Her bedroom was mainly clean but did have a few things here and there so she cleaned it up a bit and grabbed her school supplies. She didn't know exactly what he needed her help on, causing her to grab all of her school items and place them neatly on her bed. Next, knowing full well that Casey was a snacker not to mention she liked snacks herself, Y/n went into the kitchen and grabbed a bunch of junk food and sodas to place in her room as well. She placed her hands on her hips and gave the room a once over, going over everything in her head and trying to see if there was something she was missing. Deciding she was good for now, she went into the bathroom where she put on a bit of deodorant and swished her mouth with mouth wash for the final touches. Last but certainly not least she dusted herself with her favourite scented body spray. Feeling ready she left the bathroom, grabbed her phone and moved over to the living room with a bag of microwaveable popcorn she had just made. Flicking the TV on all that was left was to wait for Casey.
Casey was nearly ten minutes late, but that was to be expected. He was hardly on time and when he was it was for something far more exciting than studying.
"You're late." She stated, taking her attention away from the tv to glance him over.
"I'm never late, I arrive precisely when I mean to." He said, speaking matter of factly.
"Don't fucking quote Gandalf to me. You know I have a weak spot for Lord of the Rings." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I know, why do you think I said that?" He teased, smirking down towards her.
Y/n glared up at him from her spot on the couch, silent for a bit as she thought over a good comeback. Alas nothing came to mind. And Casey was well aware of it too.
That stupid piece of shit... Cocky mother fucker.
"I've prepared everything in my room, so we can just go work in there." Getting off the couch, Y/n began to make her way over towards her bedroom.
"We're working in your bedroom? That's-"
"If you say anything about it being kinky or borderline intimate, I swear I will smack you upside the head and throw you out. We can move into the living room if you'd rather."
Casey rose his hands in mock surrender, his grin had never faltered, "No no, your room is cool. I like your room."
Y/n clicked her tongue in annoyance, "Yeah, I'm sure you do. Fucking pervert."
Casey simply laughed. It was obnoxious, but kind of adorable. Not like she would ever admit to thinking that, though.
The both of them had worked for a few hours, Y/n helped Casey as best as she could with anything he needed help on. Occasionally, she wouldn't know the answer and the two of them would try to work together to figure it out. As expected, Casey had joked around with her. But it wasn't as annoying as Y/n thought it was going to be. In fact, she rather liked it. And had even joked around with him. They both enjoyed each other's company a lot. They ate snacks, they talked, they laughed. There was even some flirting thrown into the mix. To say that this 'study date' had gone well was an understatement. Eventually the homework and actual studying part of the date had been long forgotten. The work sat on her bed as the two of them rolled around on the floor like the couple of crackheads that they were. Laughing their asses off on some kind of inside joke.
Casey stood at Y/n's front door, slipping his shoes back on, and adjusting his sweater over his shoulders. "You know, I actually had a lot of fun tonight." He glanced over towards Y/n who was smiling over towards him with a soft blush brushing her cheeks. She was so fucking adorable.
He couldn't help but grin, "I know you would. See, I'm not that bad to hang around!"
Y/n laughed, "Guess not. You're pretty okay, Jones. We should do this again sometime."
Casey flashed her a dorky grin, "You bet! That would be totally awesome!" He fist pumped the air and Y/n laughed again.
"Text me when you get home, just so I know you were attacked or something." She nudged him playfully, and he smirked in return.
"You're worried about me? I'm flattered."
"Shut up and get out you brat!"
He cackled, "Okay, okay. I'll text you. See you later, Y/n. Oh and uh, don't think I didn't notice that you're wearing my sweater."
Her face burned, "Well, I- I was..."
He laughed, "It's all good, it looks good on you. Keep it. I have plenty others." He winked before turning to leave. He was stopped when she reached out and grabbed the front of his hoodie, yanking him towards her.
Y/n pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and Casey practically melted into it. "See you later, Casey." She whispered when she pulled away, pushing him out the door and slamming the door in his face before he could comment on what she had done.
Casey had never been happier. And neither had she.
#casey jones#tmnt casey jones#tmnt casey#tmnt casey imagine#casey jones imagine#fanfic#imagine#tmnt fanfic#tmnt imagine#tmnt casey x reader#tmnt casey jones x reader#casey jones x reader#teenage mutant ninja turtle imagine#teenage mutant ninja turtles#teenage mutant ninja turtles imagine
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ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!
THANK YOU LINDS <3<3
prompt list here, send a number!!
#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle
#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time
THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!
"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.
See, you knew he would be here.
You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.
Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.
He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.
You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.
It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.
"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."
"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."
"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."
Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.
There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.
You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.
"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."
Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.
"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."
"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"
"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"
"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."
"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"
You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"
"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."
"You're a stalker."
"You sleep on the sofa."
You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.
To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".
"I won't."
"You're getting on my nerves."
"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.
He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.
"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.
In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.
"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"
"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."
"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."
Fool.
"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."
"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"
"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."
Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"
"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."
You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.
You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.
You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.
As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.
Right, getting ready for bed.
You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.
He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.
"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."
"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."
"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."
"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.
You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.
You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."
"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."
"You did that just to annoy me."
You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.
"The bed's too small."
"Are you calling me fat?"
"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.
His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.
"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."
"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."
"Good."
Silence.
It's unbearable.
Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.
A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.
You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.
Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.
"What's wrong with you!"
"The bed's too fucking small."
"We've established that."
He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."
You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.
"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."
"Cuddle? Fuck no."
"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."
"Why don't you–"
"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."
You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.
It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.
You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.
"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.
"I know. Just shut up and sleep."
#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles smut#harry styles writing#harry styles concept#concepts#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#babyurthendofjune#ask
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