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fangirl-dot-com · 5 months

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Incorrect Quotes

all of these were from Pinterest - cause I'm not this funny (I also couldn't wait for the next chapter to come out so here :D)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated <3

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Y/n: I’m cool Oscar Y/n: I’m THEE coolest Y/n: In fact, I was once arrested for being too cool *puts on sunglasses* Oscar: The charges were dropped because there was no supporting evidence. Also, your glasses are upside down.

Y/n: I have a very specific type Max: Oh yeah? Like what? Y/n: Y’know…polite, handsome, athletic…that sort of thing Arthur (on his fourth energy drink of the day) tripping over camera wires and holding his mic upside down: you little shit eating, damned pathetic piece of shit – now you listen here Y/n: *heart eyes* that one. I want that one. Max: *flabbergasted*

Lando: bet you’re standing in the corner because you’re scared that you’ll get turned down if you talk to anyone Y/n: please, I could fluster near everyone at this party if I chose to Oscar: oh yeah? Prove it. Go for someone borderline impossible and I’ll believe you Y/n, approaching Arthur: hey dumbass, hoodie looks kind of cute on you, wanna get out of here? Arthur: WH- I MEAN- UHHHH YEAH SURE Y/n: perfect Oscar and Lando:

Y/n: I brought a red bull Max: I don’t want a red bull Y/n: I didn’t bring this for you. This is my red bull. Max: then why are you telling me? Y/n: It’s a conversation starter. Max: That’s a lousy conversation starter Y/n: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate *sips red bull*

Y/n: *gently taps table* Logan: *taps back* Alex: what are they doing? George: morse code Y/n: *aggressively taps table* Logan: *slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

Lewis: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated Y/n: Killed without hesitation Lewis: nO!

Y/n: Is stabbing someone immoral? Mitch: Not if they consent to it. Max: Depends on who you’re stabbing. Christian: YES?!

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle. Y/n: Shit Logan: Wait, three? Cop: yeah? Lando: OH MY GOSH OSCAR FELL OFF!!

Max: Time for plan G. Liam: Don’t you mean plan B? Daniel: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Y/n: What about plan D? Daniel: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. Max: What about plan E? Liam: I’m hoping not to use it. I die in plan E Yuki: I like plan E.

Christian: Did none of you think this was a bad idea? *Y/n, Max, Charles, and Arthur covered in navy and red paint* Y/n: Oh no, we all did. We just decided to do it anyway.

George: (in sunglasses and newest Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit) *in the most posh accent* I’m too good for revenge Logan: (covered in bug spray, cowboy hat and overalls on, pumped full of Bang energy drink and high on freedom) *cocks shotgun* Well, I’m not. Give me the name.

Arthur: So what’s your type? Y/n: Kinda long blond hair, green eyes, dumb, dimples, funny, really thin waist Arthur: Huh, that kind of sounds like me! Too bad its not me! Y/n: did I mention dumb? Arthur: yeah, why? Y/n: just making sure

*Over Text*

Y/n: Hey pretty boy, what’re you up to? :) Arthur: Eating cereal in bed Y/n: And what would you be doing if I was in bed with you? Arthur:…I would still be eating my cereal?

Waitress: And what would you like to eat? Y/n: I wish to devour the unborn Fernando: Eggs, she would like eggs

Y/n: Do you think that when sheep go to sleep they count themselves? Lando: Or do they count humans? Y/n: Ooo, that’s a good question Oscar: GO TO SLEEP

Y/n to Max: because I am a mature adult *turns to see Mitch, Christian, and Vito shake their heads* *turns back to Max* Y/n: I am an adult

*Dinner with Max, Y/n, Charles, and Arthur*

Y/n: The food is too cute, I can’t eat it! Max: Charles: Arthur: You’re cute, but I’d still eat y- Max: ONE DINNER Charles: *sighs* here we go again Max: ONE NORMAL DINNER IS ALL I ASK Y/n: Charles, this pasta is also crunchy, I truly can’t eat this

Ollie: Good night everyone Arthur: Good night Lando: Good night Oscar: Good night Y/n: good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. Tonight, imma fight until we see the sunlight. Tik tok on the clock, but the party don’t stop Oscar: I’M DONE

George (t-posing in the doorway): Greetings, parental figures and sister figure *Y/n, Lewis, and Toto walking past* Toto (not looking up from his coffee): Good morning, problem child

Christian: You see, Fernando, Y/n is at the age where she only has one thing on her mind Fernando (noticeably excited): Oh! Oh! Oh! Boys? Max (looking over at the dead tired rookie with revenge in her eyes as she looks at Esteban): No. Murder.

Y/n: Hey Liam, want some of this food? Liam: Sure, thanks! Yuki (storming in with the anger of the gods): WHO TF ATE MY LEFTOVERS THAT CLEARLY HAD MY NAME ON IT Y/n: WE did Liam: You surprisingly smart little mf

Y/n: Never have I ever…Been grounded by my parents! Arthur (exasperated): Every time. She makes disownment jokes every time and she always wins Max: Good one Kid. I always go for the ‘never had a dad who supported me.’ Charles: *stands up and walks away*

Y/n: I’ve only said I love you to four people. Christian, Vito, Arthur, and Max when I thought he died after he wouldn’t respond after a DNF. I only regret one of those Lando: Which one? Y/n: Max. He was just pressing the wrong button and walked out a few minutes later. He made me look like an idiot. Max: I let you win next race Y/n: still

(Y/n, Logan, Lando, and George trying to sneak into RB for more energy drinks after being banned from drinking more)

Logan: So what do you think Y/n will do as a distraction? Lando: She’ll probably, like, make a noise George: Or throw a rock. That’s what I would do *The door flings open and smoke follows. Screams of mechanics fill the air as they try to extinguish a small fire* Logan:…Or she could do that.

Y/n: When I die, donate my entire body to science Y/n: Except my middle finger, give that to Esteban

(max and y/n in a horror movie)

Max: QUICK YOU’RE LOSING A LOT OF BLOOD. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? Y/n (bleeding out): tall, male, brown hair, dimples, caring, supportive, Monegasque Max: BLOOD TYPE DUMBASS Y/n: oh Y/n: (looks down at wound) Y/n: red

Lando: I wish we could block people in real life. Oscar: Restraining order Y/n: Murder

Christian: Y/n, we need to talk about your professionalism for media days Y/n (and a lot of media personelle she rounded up, all standing on chairs): those are some mighty brave words for someone standing in lava

Y/n (to Max while hiding behind some tires – regretting everything): and then I called him dad Christian (to Geri – trying not to cry while cameras are everywhere): and then she called me dad

Max: Christian, look what Y/n got me for father’s day *holds up generic #1 dad mug* Christian (glaring silently while sipping from his own #1 dad mug) Max: that lying rookie Vito (holding a worn down #1 dad mug): you guys are late to the party suckers

Criminals: We have your daughter and son Toto: I don’t have a daughter and Jack is right here Criminals: then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwiches? Christian: dear God, you have Y/n and George

Mitch: So Christian, you and Geri want to be a parents again someday? Christian: Someday? We’re parents right now. Mitch: Y/n is your employee Geri: She is our BLOOD

Christian: Max is late again Kelly: I woke him up at 8 and pretended it was 11 Y/n: I wrote a fake schedule saying we were starting at 9 instead of 12 Lando: I changed his clock from AM to PM Christian: I think you may have overdone it Max (bursting into the garage): WHAT YEAR IS IT?

Y/n: If I blended Red Bull, five hour energy, monster, coffee, and hot Cheetos into an energy smoothie...would it kill me? Logan: *shrugs* only if you die Y/n (getting out the blender): you're so smart Logan Max (running into the room): y/N STOP!

Lance: I got Netflix like you asked! Y/n: OH that's amazing! I've been mooching off Max's and Arthur's accounts for a while. This will be nice! Lance: Wait, what do you mean accounts? Y/n: Their Netflix accounts? Lance: Y/n: Like their profiles? I wanted one of my own, they're like $12 Lance: Lance:....Oh....You meant the account on the service... Y/n: Yeah, what did you think I meant? Wait...What did you buy? Lance: Lance:....Netflix...

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12

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puck-luck · 14 days

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learning curves | trevor zegras

warnings: inexperienced!reader x experienced!tz, general anziety about having sex for the first time/doing sexual things for the first time, silly goofy sex questions that everyone has but refuses to speak on, conversation about kinks (lasts two seconds because they get derailed almost immediately), handjob, innocence!kink, probably some other stuff i missed. pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!reader summary: trevor zegras and his gf have "the talk" wc: 3891

Three dates. It’s been three dates. Your best friend in the world says that it’s after the third date that she considers putting out– but she’s also had sex before, racked up a body count that seems substantial next to yours (yours being a whopping zero and hers being a solid nine). Where you didn’t have boyfriends and were more focused on graduating early so you could start your dream job with the Angels, she seemed happy with the fast-paced, social side of college that afforded her connections and contacts with men of all kinds.

You told her about Trevor when you started dating him, after he brought you to your own baseball game, the last of the season against the Oakland A’s. It had worked out well in his favor, despite the fact that you hadn’t told him about your passion for baseball. Since it was the last of the season, your supervisor had let you take the day off as a reward for all your hard work and had pawned your tasks off to the other members of your team.

Your best friend had called you mere minutes after that first date had ended, gushing with you about Trevor’s kindness in buying your food and drinks (and ticket) and laughing at the way you reenacted Trevor’s attempt to mansplain baseball to you.

After the second date, when Trevor brought you to play mini-golf and took you to get ice cream, you had called her. She had asked if he had kissed you yet. She also asked if you were going to send a picture of his butt anytime soon. The answer to both was “no.”

And last week, after the third date where Trevor had taken you to see Killers of the Flower Moon when it released, she had told you about her policy: the one where she starts to consider putting out.

It seems like Trevor might be on the same page. For your fourth date, Trevor invited you to dinner. Tonight. At his apartment. He’s cooking for you. At his apartment.

Alone.

You haven’t told him yet about the fact that you haven’t had sex with anyone. He’s probably picked up on it by now, with how you shy away from his touches and swerved him twice (once at mini-golf and once after the movies).

You’re going to tell him tonight. He’s going to cook a beautiful dinner, be nothing but sweet and caring like he always is, and then you’re going to tell him that you’re still a virgin, and he’s going to be freaked out, and probably break up with you.

That’s the only way it could go, right?

The potential for disaster is on your mind the whole night, from the drive to Trevor’s to the last bite of the cheesecake Trevor bought for dessert.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Trevor asks, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Did I make something you don’t like? Are you not a cheesecake fan?”

“No, Trevor, I like cheesecake. You haven’t done anything wrong.” You continue to pick at your dessert. You sigh, then place your fork down on the side of the plate. “I think we need to have a conversation.”

You don’t miss the alarm that flashes across Trevor’s face when you say that.

He stands almost immediately from his seat, taking your hand to bring you to his living room, where you can sit comfortably on the couch. Trevor stays quiet, something you know is difficult for him, but it means so much more to you that he’s trying to let you take charge here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my best friend?” You ask, finding it safest to start there.

Trevor nods. “What about her?”

You’re quiet for a beat, taking a deep breath. “She told me that she starts to put out after the third date.”

A sharp silence follows. Your heart is beating through your chest, but it starts to slow the longer the silence drags on.

Finally, Trevor breaks the silence. “So?” He asks. “What does that have to do with us?”

You fishmouth at him, jaw open wide and dangling.

“Not in like a mean way, but I was inviting you over for dinner. If you want to fuck, we can fuck, but I really just wanted to eat with you today.”

Trevor’s words are both comforting and cutting. He’s sassy, always is, and the consonants of his words sound harsh. He’s saying everything like he’s so sure, like it was obvious, and the word “fuck” twists your intestines in a way that causes you to grimace. It’s nice that he didn’t intend to have sex with you tonight, but now it seems like an offhanded afterthought. If you want to, we can.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” You bite the edge of your thumbnail. “It’s– well, that’s kind of a big deal for me?”

Trevor nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I haven’t, um. I, kind of, haven’t really… done that… yet.” Your voice shakes a bit in an embarrassing way, a way that makes you want to cringe, but you don’t want to seem so vulnerable in front of Trevor.

The problem is that you like him. You’ve been going on dates as often as you can, with Trevor’s busy schedule. You enjoy seeing him, you like hanging out with him, and you want to keep doing it. You always get your hopes up and this time is no different, you can feel it. You’re hoping that Trevor won’t say the same shit as the other guys you’ve told this to, the ones that laughed or belittled you or asked “Why? Why haven’t you?” like there’s a good answer to their question.

“Oh,” is the eloquent response that Trevor comes up with. His eyes are wide and his mouth stays slightly open, even when he’s done speaking. It’s like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t know what.

You’re the same way– you bite the inside of your cheek and your lip as you continue to watch Trevor. If you weren’t feeling so nervous, it would be a funny sight: two people sitting on the couch, just staring at each other with wide eyes.

“I really like you, Trevor,” You tell him. “I just– I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want you to leave me because I can’t give you what you want.”

Trevor moves quickly, closing the space between you. He hugs you tightly and you sniff, holding back emotion that you didn’t realize was there.

“Is there anything else?” Trevor asks , rubbing your back.

You shake your head.

“I really like you, too,” Trevor adds. “I’m not going to leave you because you’re… inexperienced. I want to keep dating you, Y/N. If you’ll let me, I would really like to…” Trevor trails off, offering you a smile and a little bit of a laugh before continuing. “Teach you?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Teach me?” You repeat.

Trevor grimaces, an embarrassed smile on his face. “It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“A little bit,” You agree. Your heart has slowed to its normal pace and Trevor’s hand on your knee is a comfort, not unwelcome pressure.

“Can I kiss you?” Trevor asks. His voice is soft and his hand has drifted up to your cheek.

“Well, I’ve done that before,” You joke. You’re not lying– you’ve kissed people in the past. You feel like that should be clear to Trevor before he gets too big of a head.

“Not with me.” Trevor leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, then the other. He kisses along your face until he gets to your lips, which is when he pauses before barely letting his lips ghost across yours. He holds himself there for a moment, waits for you to tilt your head up, and Trevor dives in. It’s sweet and he’s patient, never moving any faster than you want him to.

Over the next week, you tell Trevor your theories about why you haven’t had sex before: that you were a weird kid, or too focused on school, or too eager for the next big thing that you never considered it. Or that guys were scary and often didn’t actually seem to care. Trevor reassured you that he didn’t care that you hadn’t had sex before, but that he did care more about you than anyone he’d ever been with in the past.

By your fifth date, Trevor had officially made you his girlfriend. He had also officially told you that you could ask him any questions you wanted, whenever they popped into your mind.

You had taken advantage of it, often at the worst times:

Over text before a game: “Is it going to hurt?” “Probably. But I’ll go slow and try to get you as ready for my cock as I can.” While you and Trevor are grocery shopping: “What am I supposed to do?” “What do you mean?” “Like, I don’t want to just lay there.” “There are a lot of different positions. I’m not going to make you just lay there.” “Okay, well I don’t think I’ll be any good on top.” “You don’t know that yet. Also, chill out. We’re in the middle of the toilet paper aisle. Can we finish this conversation at home?” Later, in that same grocery trip, while in the condom aisle: “Is it really that different?” “What?” “When you have sex with and without a condom. Is there a big difference?” “Uh, it’s more… intimate without. I think it feels better.” “So should we skip the condom altogether?” “Uh… probably not the first time. We should probably work up to that.” “Well, I want you to feel good.” “You’re going to give me a boner if you keep talking. Shut up. We’re buying condoms.” And when you pouted: “Just be patient, we’ll get there.” When you drop him off for practice: “How long do you usually last?” “I have to go.” Then, over text two minutes after he walks away from the car: “you’re hot so probably not more than two minutes <3”

You’d waited to ask the more pressing questions when you were in private. It brought you a thrill of glee each time you asked a question and you could watch Trevor grow uncomfortable with the effort it took to restrain himself, to not try and get some relief whenever you caused him to grow hard with your unintentionally dirty words.

“I made a list of questions for you,” You tell Trevor. It’s the last time you’re hanging out before you head home for Thanksgiving. You’re sitting on the same couch, Trevor on one side, you on the other.

“Twenty questions, sexy style?” Trevor teases, pulling your legs over his lap.

“You’re my little encyclopedia,” You reply. “And I’m curious.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“What do you like, Trev? Tell me everything. Likes, dislikes, kinks, dare I say fetishes…”

“Don’t really think I have any fetishes, but thanks for being open about it,” Trevor laughs. He rubs his thumb over your ankle. “That’s a really big question, baby.”

You shrug, foregoing a reply.

“I mean, I don’t know. I like sex. I like getting head. I like giving head. I like it when I finger a girl. I like it when I can make a girl come. I occasionally like to spank a girl. I’m pretty chill, baby. I’m down for anything.”

You scoff. “Trev, I don’t know anything. You have to be specific.”

Trevor takes a breath and chews his bottom lip, seeming to consider your words. “I like that you don’t know anything.” His fingers circle your ankle and he squeezes what he can hold in his hand. For probably the first time since he’s talked to you about this sort of thing, Trevor seems hesitant, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “It makes me feel really special.”

“Special how?” You ask.

“I don’t know, just… that you trust me with this.”

You suppress a smile. “Look at you, Mr. Emotional Intimacy.”

Trevor snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been a huge relationship guy, Y/N. I think it’s really cool that you make me want to experience all this shit with you. It’s nice to feel this way. We get to treat every moment like it’s really special, and that makes me feel special, since most of my other sexual encounters are just heat of the moment hookups with other experienced partners.”

When you open your mouth to apologize for your inexperience, unable to help yourself, Trevor cuts you off.

“I also think it’s really hot that– God, this sounds so fucked up– I get to show you everything. It’s… like, okay, fuck, it’s kind of the student and teacher thing.”

“So you do have a fetish!” You accuse, pointing your finger at Trevor wildly. He captures your hand and rolls his eyes. “You want me to dress up like a Catholic schoolgirl!”

“I do not!” Trevor replies, sounding exasperated. He pauses to consider it. “Okay, it would be hot. But that’s not why, bro. Chill out.”

“Why, then?” You ask. You’re interested, almost too interested. You want to know what makes Trevor click, what you can do to make him hard and what he looks like when he’s in pleasure, when he comes.

“I like that you’re innocent. It just makes me feel like I get to take care of you. It’s dumb, but I get to be the man and I get to make you feel good and show you how to make me feel good. I’m the only one who’s seen you like this, it’s fun for me.”

Your eyes drift lower to his lap, wanting to see if he’s tenting his shorts just at the idea. He is. You move closer to him, taking your legs off his lap and tucking yourself into his side. Feeling bold, you place your hand on his stomach.

“Can I see you?” You ask, making sure your voice sounds extra sweet and you’re blinking up at him through your eyelashes.

Trevor practically convulses, his mouth pressed into a straight line, but still wobbling a bit as he stares at you in shock. “What?” He asks.

You let your fingers drift to the waistband of his shorts, but you dare not to tread further. You don’t want to touch him wrong, or mess everything up. But, at the same time, you really want to see his dick. “Can I see you?” You repeat. Then, you let out a little laugh, just to yourself. “I’m–” You cut yourself off and press your lips together, proud of the joke you’re about to make. “I’m a hands-on learner.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Trevor says, shaking his head at your terrible joke. “Baby, are you sure?”

“Trev, I want to see your dick.” You roll your eyes, pulling your hand back. “I should see the hardware before I ask of any more questions, right?”

Trevor seems to be battling with himself.

You dip your finger under the waistband, feeling his v-line with your pinky.

It snaps Trevor out of his inner turmoil and he bats your hand away. He shimmies his shorts off, leaving his boxers on. They don’t leave much to the imagination and you bite your lip with a gasp.

It’s big. It’s not even out yet, and it’s big.

Trevor dips his head down, tilting your chin up with a finger, and kisses you softly. “Still sure?” He whispers.

“Leave it in there for a second,” You reply. You lower your voice to a whisper to match his: “How is that going to fit inside me?”

“We’ll go slow and I’ll get you nice and open for me. Three fingers, so it’s easier.” He winks. “Maybe four.”

“Jesus Christ, Trevor.” Your voice is more admonishing than turned on, but it would be a lie if you weren’t intrigued by his words.

“And you know what else?” Trevor asks.

You nod for him to continue.

“If we need to, we’ll use lube. But I want to make you come a couple times before I get my cock in you, that first time. Wanna make it so good for you. You’ll be so relaxed that you’ll forget it’s your first time.”

“A couple times,” You repeat, feeling a little dazed. “Is that… normal?”

Trevor shrugs. “Normal is different for everyone. It’s possible and I think you’ll like the feeling of me making you come. I know I will. So, I hope it becomes normal for us.”

“Okay,” You say. You know your voice sounds unsure. You clear your throat. “Take it out,” You tell him, a little hoarse still.

“You’re sure?”

“Trevor, just do it,” You let the words burst out of you. “If I hate it, I’ll tell you to put it away!”

Trevor laughs. “God, I hope you don’t hate it. That would really derail my plans for us.” He hooks his thumbs in his waistband and inches his boxers down.

The inching slowly reveals the head of his cock, red and shiny. Eyes wide, you tilt your head to the side. Your lips part as Trevor continues to reveal himself to you. It lays flat against his stomach, curved a little to the side.

Trevor smiles, the right side of his mouth tilting up into a smirk. He brings his hand to the base of his cock and watches your breath hitch when he pumps himself once, slowly, just to gauge your reaction. He squeezes, milking a little precum out of his tip.

You tense up, watching the drip slide down his length.

“Oh my God,” You whisper to yourself.

“What do you think, baby? Hideous?” Trevor asks, a knowing lilt in his voice. He sees how your eyes haven’t left his dick since he pulled it out of his boxers, curious but also enraptured.

Your hand twitches on his stomach. “Can I…”

Trevor hums, stroking himself again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Whatever you want,” Trevor agrees and takes his hand off of himself, practically dropping his cock like a hot potato.

You reach out, hesitating at the last second. You pull back. “I feel so stupid.”

“Why?” Trevor asks.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” You say begrudgingly, pouting under his watchful eye.

“That’s okay. Just get your hand on it, feel it out. I can help you, if you want.”

“No, I want to do it.” You reach out, making contact with Trevor’s cock with a single finger. You draw a line from his base to his tip, following the vein on the side. You bite your lip in concentration, circling the tip of his cock with your finger and thumb. You purse your lips and feel the weight of his cock in your hand, tilting it gently from one side, to the other, forwards and backwards like a joystick, just to see how it moves.

You fail to notice Trevor’s breathing grow deeper, nor the way his eyes are trained on your face.

You press your thumb into the underside of the head of his dick, where the tip meets the shaft. You drag your thumb up, swiping over the slit. A bubble of precum appears and leaks out. You rub your thumb through it, then turn your hand over to look at your thumb.

Trevor’s jaw drops and a strangled noise leaves his mouth when you bring your thumb up to your mouth and take a taste.

His cock jumps, drawing your eyes. You then look up to him and notice the sweat on his brow. He’s biting his lip to recover from his groan, but lets out a whimper when you circle his cock with your entire hand and pump him.

“Oh my God,” Trevor whispers, mirroring your reaction from earlier. His voice is shaky and his eyes roll backwards into his head.

You bring your other hand down to cradle one of his balls, rolling it in your palm. You pump his cock at the same time and Trevor’s hips jump into your fist, catching you off guard.

“Gonna come,” Trevor chokes out. “Just– fuck– keep going.”

“Help me,” You request, taking his hand and bringing it so his hand covers yours.

He moans aloud, tightening his grip (and yours by extension), and moving his hips up into his hand in short thrusts.

“Fuck, is this– is this okay?” Trevor checks with you, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Can I come?”

Your eyes stay on his face, watching as his face contorts with pleasure. “Yeah,” You breathe out. “Want to see you come, Trev.”

He lets out a moan at that, throwing his head back as you continue to stroke over his member in tandem. He fucks up until your fists as he hurls himself over the edge, ribbons of come shooting out of his tip and falling in pools over his hand and abdomen.

A bit drips through his fingers onto your hand and you stare at it, crinkling your nose at the feeling of the sticky substance as it settles on your skin.

“Gross,” You say, wincing at the way it cools on your skin.

“Let me clean you up,” Trevor offers, tucking himself away and rising off the couch to wet a paper towel. You stand and follow him, holding your hand a reasonable distance away from yourself, and trying not to drip everywhere. When Trevor turns to you with the paper towel, he laughs. “Well, don’t act like it’s acid!”

“You look pretty when you come,” You tell Trevor as he wipes his come off of your hand. He dumps the paper towel in the trash can and you elbow him out of the way to wash your hands for an extra long amount of time. He follows suit when you’re done and you plaster yourself to his back, hugging him from behind.

“What’s that for?” Trevor asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder fondly.

“For being so understanding and nice to me,” You mumble into his back, hiding your face. “Thank you.”

Trevor turns around in your grasp and returns your hug, holding you tightly to his chest. “Oh, baby, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Cuz you find me so hot when I’m innocent,” You giggle, poking his ribs.

“It’s my kink,” Trevor teases back, with a hint of truth to it, though you won’t find out about that until Trevor sheepishly admits it the next time you jerk him off and he’s babbling aimlessly about how pretty you look when you’re staring up at him in awe, asking him how he feels and if you’re doing well. He’s praising you and whining and when he finally comes, he almost hardens immediately after because you lift your hand up and give his come a little kitten lick, getting a taste of him.

You end up scrunching your nose in distaste, not because you dislike it, but because it’s such a unique taste.

It makes Trevor laugh and it makes him lean in to kiss you, even venturing to open his mouth and let you take the lead with tongue (the way he taught you).

note: the monday morning streak continues! pls send feedback to my inbox (not requests, i'm booked) but i want to talk about this series!! I love chit-chatting with y'all! i also think that since i'm starting my new job(!!!!!!) this week, we might be down to one post this week & then i'll just work on a bunch of stuff throughout the week so i can hopefully post more when i'm acclimated to my job! also, my cousin is having her baby today! it's the first baby of the next generation! i'm so excited for her!

#puck luck's fics #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #tz11 #tz x inexperienced!reader series #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #andy writes anything🍄

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joebrrrow · 1 year

Text

Refunds || Joe x F!Reader (NSFW)

You were no stranger to Joe’s hijinks.

word count: 3,237

warnings/contents: blowjob, daddy name-calling (i'm sorry joe i'm just saying what we're all thinking), dom!joe/sub!reader dynamics, rough sex (i'm sorry joe), choking, full mind-break, degradation (but also, like, praise), bimbo behavior-fication, dirty talk

author’s note: crawling out of my hole to give you this filthy filth in celebration of the bengals going to the AFC championship! now excuse me i must go take a cold shower and get to my scheduled exorcism because i need church after writing this.

don’t be shy to like and reblog if you enjoyed. as creators say, likes are amazing but reblogs go a long way in sharing my work. thank y’all!!!!!

For more of my smut, read Sturdy. For fluff, check out Capturing You, because your girl can do both. <3

enjoy under the cut!

No matter what, Joe was a winner to you.

And you never really let it get to your head too much, especially when you were watching him from the stands, whatever the team’s score was. You were endlessly proud of him, win or lose, because you’d been there from the very beginning. Even when he was still at Ohio State and barely even saw the field, you gleamed with pride. But honestly, it had been pissing you off a little bit—and you’re typically mild-mannered, some might even go as far as saying meek—to hear everyone doubt Joe, and the whole team for that matter.

“It’s just trash talk, baby,” Joe would soothe you the moment you heard about all this bullshit about neutral sites, ticket sales. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and reached over to close your laptop, cutting out the noise in a way. “If that gets to ya, you should hear what some guys say on the field.” He cracked a grin and that made things better.

You tried out logic for a while. It wasn’t like pre-selling tickets to a matchup was unheard of; it was basically customary in any sport. Even protocol. And that satiated you for now. You didn’t notice, but Joe actually liked seeing a little bit of that fire in you—this newfound willingness to prove someone wrong. You were always someone who didn’t care too much about what others thought, which was why he wanted even more to win against the Bills on Sunday, just for you; because as much as you were proud of him no matter what, he also liked your praise just as much. He wanted to make you proud.

So come Sunday, when it was the fourth quarter and the Bills were too behind to catch up to the Bengals’ score and that timer was running out, you couldn’t hide how happy you were for him. You watched him from the stands with a big stupid smile on your face because this was who Joe Burrow was—your Joe. He was a winner, a champion, and the sooner people started to realize that, the better. And what a helluva way to prove them wrong with just four words:

“Better send those refunds.”

—

You sat there, mouth slightly falling open. The bright light of your phone’s screen illuminated your face in the otherwise dark parking lot, at a gas station somewhere in the outskirts of Cincinnati, about five minutes away from yours and Joe’s place. You were catching up on all the social media, retweeting things, reposting stories, acknowledging everything you could that was singing Joe’s praises because goddamn if he didn’t deserve it. And that was when you caught this clip of Joe’s postgame interview.

Better send those refunds.

You were no stranger to his hijinks. You loved how fired up he got after a great game and an even better win. You loved how he was slowly opening up to the media, showing a little more of the goofy person you know him to be (though you secretly wished he’d kept it all for you). But this… Something was different about this.

You were suddenly startled by Joe opening the door to his car, entering the driver’s seat and handing a plastic bag over to you. Without much thought, you grabbed it. “What’s this?” you asked.

He snickered at this. “Your snacks, sweetheart.” Oh, that’s right—you had run out of your celebratory post-game Oreos at the house and wanted him to grab a quick pack.

With a chuckle, you played it off. “Thanks.”

He started the car and began pulling out of the parking lot, but not without question. “You good, baby?”

“Yep,” you croaked out. You turned beet red and thanked God it was dark outside so he couldn’t see. You both laughed about how your voice broke just then.

A few seconds passed before you spoke again. You willed up some confidence. “It’s just… You know, I can’t let it go. About how they were selling those tickets before they even knew who was going to play in the Championship.”

“Ah, I know, babe.” He reached over and patted your knee. “But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause we’re gonna be there next week.”

“I know, I know, but… What was it you said at that interview after the game? ‘Give the tickets back,’ or something like that?” You purposely watered down his words, wanting him to correct you.

“Nah, nah, you’re butchering it,” he said, laughing. “I don’t remember what I said, really.”

“Oh, c’mon. You remember,” you insisted teasingly. “I bet you had it bubbling up. You thought of it last week, probably, and kept rehearsing it over and over again so you got it right by the time you had to say it.”

Joe scoffed, reaching over and ruffling your hair. “Where’s this comin’ from, bug?” His sweet little nickname for you. He always treated you like you were small, and you liked that. But you didn’t want to sink into it, not yet—you wanted this first.

“Just say it. You remember what you said.”

“Hmm.” At a red light, he stopped the car and looked over at you. His perplexed expression was smoldering even when dimly lit crimson.

Biting your lip, you waited.

“I know what I said,” he finally confessed.

“Yeah?” you squirmed a bit in your seat. The light was still red.

“I said, ‘Better send those refunds.’”

“Mmm.” You couldn’t hold back your whimper. It was involuntary. Sometimes it shocked you, still, the effect that Joe Burrow had on you. Even after all these years. But you caught yourself and added, “Mmmhmm. That’s what you said.”

He didn’t let you get away with it, though. He never did.

As the light turned green, Joe slowly accelerated forward; you were the only car on these quiet streets. He said nothing. You bit back your smile as you looked out of the window, pretending like nothing happened.

Then, you felt it. He brought his right hand down from the wheel to pat your knee again, but it wasn’t a silly pat this time. He started rubbing his huge hand on your knee, slowly lowering it to your inner thigh. You thought his touch was going to burn a hole in your leggings. But you weren’t done.

“Better send those refunds,” you repeated, somewhat more enunciated, voice a bit breathy. But you didn’t want to make it obvious that his touch had already gotten to you; that you’d already been soaked from the moment he got back in the car. You let out a soft chuckle. “I mean, it’s true. They knew better than to doubt you.”

“Hmph.” Joe seemed to be satisfied by your words.

“I mean, right? God, this should show them that they’re stupid for even thinking about selling those tickets in the first place, whether it’s protocol or not,” you continued. His hand on your thigh just kept moving higher and higher. Your next words came out with a slight gasp: “You’re the fucking best, Joe. And if they don’t know that by now…”

When his hand finally snuck between your thighs, thumb rubbing against your warm pussy over your leggings, you let out a slutty moan. “Daddy.” It was, like that whimper earlier, involuntary. Conditioned.

“Shh. Tell me.” It was the first time you’d heard his voice in a minute, and it was suddenly colored so deep, lustful.

You knew what to say. “I just think you’re—you’re the best, daddy.” Your confidence had waned off a bit, replaced by this slightly bimbofied persona only he knew how to dig out of you. “And you’re so right… they better send those refunds.” You nodded, biting down hard on your lip as he rubbed your clit in circles. You looked at him even if he wasn’t looking at you back; his focused expression as he drove was all you needed to keep getting wetter and wetter.

But you were suddenly disappointed as you felt the car slow down and pull into your house. Those were the fastest five minutes of your life. You wanted it to be like the last time you got frisky in the car, Joe so desperate that you pulled off to the side of the road and fucked you right there. You supposed this was better, though; you could both get out of your clothes easier and didn’t have to wrestle with a pile of winter coats. (It was summer the last time you had car sex; your tiny shorts were easy to pull off.)

“Let’s go,” Joe spoke, stepping out of the car. He was calm as you both headed inside the house.

You dropped off your coat and bag on the wall hook by the door and pathetically set the plastic bag on the kitchen island, feeling his presence somewhere behind you. You looked up at him, biting your lip, seeing him standing in the doorway. He’d taken his shoes and coat off already, just in his warm-ups. When you caught his gaze, his ocean blue eyes looked expectant of you.

“Yes, daddy?”

That was enough to set him off. He walked over to you, towering over you and backing you up against the kitchen island. You gulped, looking up at him. You loved when he made you feel small.

“Better send those refunds.”

You feigned confusion. “Huh?”

Abruptly, he grabbed you by your waist and turned you around, bending you over the counter. He had a fistful of your hair and his cock pressed hard against you, and you felt him breathing in your ear. “I said, you’d better send those refunds.”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, looking at him through your peripherals, brows curled up. Your mouth hung agape, moaning as he reached his free hand down and grabbed your ass. Just from this, your head was already swirling with dumb pleasure. “Right away, daddy.”

He turned you around and pulled you onto your knees by your hair. You braced yourself by grabbing his thighs and didn’t dare break eye contact from him. Even if his bulge was right in your face. This was the first time in a long time, since the beginning of today, that he’d gotten a look at you. He smirked; you knew he thought you were gorgeous, he didn’t have to say it. This was about him.

“Suck my cock.”

You did as you were told, pulling down his sweatpants and not even allowing yourself a second to admire his length. You took the shaft in your hand and directed the tip of his cock into your mouth, closing your eyes as you expertly began sucking him off. There was no slow burn here; that already happened in the car.

Joe still had your hair in his hand, and it gripped tighter as you blew him. “Mmm. Fuck, baby. Just like that,” he growled. He broke eye contact from you for a moment to lean his head back and close his eyes, focusing on the sound of you gagging over his cock. You took him as far as you could then fucked the back of your throat with the tip of his cock, which was slick in your drool. Your hands held onto his thighs as you whimpered with your mouth full. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, you didn’t break eye contact from him; it made you so wet to watch him go all primal.

Then he grabbed two fistfuls of your hair to make pigtails. You knew that he wanted to control your mouth, so you held your hands behind your back like a good girl and you let him throw your head back and forth against his cock. Your eyes welled up with tears.

He looked down to watch you as he fucked your throat, and he looked so proud to own you. It made you want to be even better at being throatfucked, like you would go to college and get a degree in being a good throat to fuck if you could. You wanted to serve him in that way. You made filthy, wet gagging noises, and babbled when you could; your face was coated in your own drool.

“Alright, get up,” he said, pulling his cock out of your mouth and hoisting you to your feet by your pigtails. He let go of your hair and you sighed in slight relief from the new lack of tension.

“Y-yes daddy,” you gurgled out. Your makeup was ruined, but you still looked pretty to him. He kissed you messily, grabbing both of your cheeks with one hand of his squeezing your face together. Then he gave your face a nice, solid slap.

“You gonna be a good girl for daddy, huh? You gonna take this dick?” he asked, breathless.

You whimpered and nodded. “Yes,” you whimpered. “I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Satisfied with your pleading, he forced you on your stomach, bent over against the kitchen island. He pulled down your leggings and lifted your jersey up, and as you watched him over your shoulder, you caught his smirk. Of course you were wearing his number. You knew he liked seeing you wear it and loved fucking you in it even more.

With one hand on your back and the other on the base of his shaft, he slowly directed the tip of his cock inside of you, not shy to groan as he felt how wet you were. “Fuck. Look how wet you are,” he said, tone as if to humiliate you, but you loved it when it came along with praise. “You’re fucking soaked. Are you that much of a slut that seeing me win gets you this fucking soaked and slutty, sweetheart?”

You whimpered, finding yourself almost begging for him to slide in all the way. “Y-yes, daddy. I’m a slut,” you barely got out. Your words were somewhat nasally and high-pitched; you were almost full bimbo at this point. “Please. Please.”

He chuckled at this, pulling back out. He rubbed his tip along the wet, slick slit of your cunt. “Please what?”

“Daddy. Daddy, please fuck me. I can’t take it,” you begged. “I’ll—I’ll get on those refunds right away, daddy. I should’ve known better.”

Joe growled. Satisfied, he shoved deep into you, and held his cock there; you felt his balls graze up against your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned. You braced yourself against the kitchen island, staring at the Oreos.

Then, Joe started to fuck you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and everything went black. You bathed in the pleasure that was his cock pummeling your tight little pussy. You loved how rough he was being. You were losing yourself. You were being owned by Joe Burrow. You were his piece of pussy, and only that.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you moaned in conjunction with each thrust of his as he took you from behind.

His hands gripped tightly on your waist, letting out primal groans as he fucked you hard. He wasn’t holding back, and you loved it. “Oh, c’mon, baby. You better get to it,” he spoke, breathily, and yet confidently. “You were gonna do something for me, weren’t you? Before you went all brain-stupid and cock-slutty for your daddy?”

You hated how easily his words came out when all you could think about was his dick obliterating your pussy. The words were jumbled in your head: “Refunds, better send.” And they came out repeatedly in whines. “Refunds. Daddy. Send. Yes. Fuck. Me.”

One of his hands left your waist and you almost began sobbing at that lack of contact only if he didn’t reach up and grab your throat, pulling you up from the cold marble of the kitchen island so you could stand up a bit and watch him fuck you. He held your throat tightly, and you looked over your shoulder as best as you could to catch a blurry image of the most handsome fucking man you’ve ever seen hammer into you. He shoved his thumb in your mouth and you sucked happily. You repositioned your hands on the counter to hold yourself up and continue to be a good slut. His other hand spanked your ass.

“That’s right, baby. Better send those refunds like the stupid fuckin’ bimbo you are,” he growled out, words accented with that smirk you knew he wore while he fucked you. “Take this big fuckin’ daddy cock in your wet, tight little pussy, baby.” His hand left your throat only to dig under your shirt and grab your tits, tugging that bralette down and off your tits. He roughly pinched your nipple and you whined out. Your tits bounced freely in rhythm with his incessant, merciless fucking.

“D-daddy,” you whined, desperately.

“Aw, what’s that? You can’t say anything?” There he was again, pulling out coherent sentences while you babbled.

You’d gone full bimbo by this point. You were far gone, and your only compass was his dick inside of you. You knew nothing else about fuck-all until his cock was drained inside of you, and you would be a good slut-servant until he was done.

But goddamn, you were about to cum. “I—” you whimpered out. “If you keep fucking me like that, daddy, I’m gonna cum.”

He laughed at this. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. Put your—daddy, please—”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence. Joe knew what you needed. His hand left your tit if only to grab your throat again, and his other hand held onto your waist, keeping you still. Otherwise, you’d squirm away from him. He knew you were uncontrollable when you came.

“What’s that, baby? Use your words for daddy, c’mon.” He smirked.

“I’m gonna—” you cried out.

He timed his thrusts with these next few words, feeling close to climaxing himself: “You’d. Better. Send. Those. Fucking. Refunds. You. Fucking. Slut.”

And with that, you came hard all over his cock, clenching your tight, wet walls around him. “God, daddy! I’m cumming! Yes! Don’t stop!” You closed your eyes and indeed, squirmed around a ton, and he had to hold your waist to keep you still.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum, too, baby.” He grunted, wrangling and fucking you at the same time, and at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, shot his white hot load deep inside you. You felt him filling you up, the warmth of his load sinking deep into your stomach. You both slowed down, breathing hard.

With him still inside of you, you slumped forward, laying your top half down on the counter. You looked over your shoulder up at him, then cracked a grin.

And he broke into a smile, too, gleaming with pride. He’d never admit it, but you turned him into such an animal. It was even sweeter when the clouds had all cleared and all you both felt was bliss.

You lifted a heavy, lifeless arm to reach across the counter. You pulled the plastic bag closer and took out the package of Oreos. Barely functioning and breathing hard, you put all your effort into ripping that stupid, plastic seal off the package, revealing three rows of double-stuffed sandwich cookies. You pulled one out and offered it over your shoulder to him. “Want a celebratory Oreo, champ?” you asked.

He took it with a snicker. “Yeah, sweetheart. I sure do.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #myfics*

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rreeaahh · 10 months

Text

Green eyes VS green badge | R. A. B.

Second chapter of "One way ticket" | Ch. 1

pair> regulus black x lestrange! reader | > mentions of james potter x reader | > james potter x lily evans

summary> the hate between y/n and regulus is hidden from anyone else, but maybe his actions combined with a heartbreak aren't the best outcome for y/n

word count> 2.7k

warnings> regulus being a jerk, again? reader being kind of a teacher's pet? mentions of discrimination based on blood purity; nothing else, in my opinion, feel free to tell me if i should add anything!

a/n> THIS WAS WRITTEN IN ONE GO, HOLY SHIT. I DID NOT PROOFREAD IT. thank u guys for all the support showed here<3 its crazy, honestly. the tag list is open for this series, so feel free to send me an ask or a comment of you want to be added! also, i have a thought and idk, i'd make this idea more detailed but on wattpad, and keep it a little shorter here, what do you think?

There were four simple rules that Y/N needed to follow since she could talk and understand what she was being told.

The first one was that she could never, ever in her whole life disobey her father – he was the only one who cared for her, for her future, for her dignity and he was the only one who wished to see her become a strong and powerful witch; that’s what he claimed, at least.

The second one was that she was not allowed to ever question the Dark Lord’s word – her father said that Tom Riddle, his old friend, was the one who told him to keep her, to raise her and protect her as a father should. In other words, she has a dad because a bald snake-looking man said she was worth the effort.

The third one, one with a great significance, was that she should not interact with Mudbloods more than necessary – which was, in her opinion, pretty confusing, given the fact that Voldemort himself was a Half-blood. But, she could not put that problem to a question because she would break rule number one and rule number two at the same time.

The last one was simple – don’t be a disappointment, don’t ruin the family’s image.

And that’s how she lived her life until her first year at Hogwarts. That’s when she started to disobey her dad by giving up on rule number three and talk to all her colleagues – nothing more than acquaintances, though, because the other Purebloods could mock her for doing so. She learned that everyone should be treated equally, no matter the blood that was running in their veins – they were all wizards, after all. That’s a reason she got close to James Potter last year, in her fourth one. The older boy was shocked to see a Slytherin act that politely towards a first-year Muggleborn Gryffindor and jokingly asked her if she was sick. He said she was not like the others. He said she was quite nice.

They had a few other accidental meetings in the hallway, and without realizing Y/N started to get nervous around him; her heart would beat faster when she’d hear his voice in the Great Hall and her cheeks would burn when she’d wake up from another dream about him – that was her first crush ever. While at the final party of the year, where only a few Slytherins were invited – it was hosted by the Marauders, after all – Y/N was kissed by James. The party was at the end, she wanted to leave and he offered to walk her back to the Dungeons. It was the best night of her life, she finally felt seen, heard, liked. Maybe it was because of their encounters, maybe because James could see behind her social mask or maybe it was simply because of all the firewhiskey and beer, but he kissed her. He really kissed her, right at the door of the Slytherin’s common room. He grabbed her waist, cupped her cheek and even groaned against her lips when she gathered the courage to put her hands in his dark curly hair. He smiled at her and wished her a great summer, and then walked off backwards, still watching her.

That’s why she was excited all summer to get back at Hogwarts. That’s why she was determined to learn more about Muggleborns, to change her life and morals. That’s why she started fighting her father when he’d open the topic of marriage – James was, of course, a Pureblood, as Cyrus wished for his only child, but he was also a blood traitor. She never told her dad about him, but she wouldn’t even once let him get the idea that she was willing to marry one of his friends’ sons. They were all pricks, and she was only thinking about James.

That’s why her heart broke on the train – he wouldn’t even look at her. That’s why now, a few days after, she still looks like the train hit her. That’s what she thought, at least, because everyone else complimented her new jewelry, her hair, her nail polish, every stupid and insignificant thing. Her eyes had dark circles under them, her skin felt strange and her appetite was nowhere to be found.

“Don’t you like the porridge?” asks Evan and points to her bowl.

His sister, Pandora, gets her head out of the tarot book and scoff in disapproval. “Could you mind your business, Evan?” She should be at the Ravenclaw table, but she really likes to spent time with them.

Y/N only smiles to them and pushes away the bowl. “You can have it, Evan, I’m not that hungry,” she winks in his direction and starts writing on her parchments again.

Because that’s what she does – that’s the only way not to look at the other side of the room, at the Gryffindor table. She studies over her Potions’ notes, her first class from that day. Professor Slughorn announced another meeting of the Slug Club and her new goal was to get invited, again. There are a few girls that get to be invited to those dinners, and Y/N was one of them but Horace liked to see new faces from now and then.

“You really want to go,” mutters Bruce Mulciber, looking at her with a bored expression. Edmund Avery hits his arm in a not-that-subtle manner and smiles at her widely.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are while studying, Y/N? So smart,” the boy says and winks in her direction.

“How disgusting,” Pandora whispers at their behavior. Y/N nods her head and smiles politely to Edmund, while wishing she could slam his head to the table until she’d see blood. But that would definitely against any existing rule – both Hogwarts’ and her father’s.

She gets up and starts gathering her belongings, taking a last sip from her tea cup. “I have to go, guys. Evan, I’ll see you in Potions, right?”

“Yeah, I have to wait for Regulus, though,” he informs her and grabs her porridge bowl, smiling thankful in her way.

Y/N laughs and grabs her parchments, drinking the remaining tea in her cup. While at it, a body slams into hers and the contact makes her to drop the tea on her notes, her white shirt and her shoes. And there’s silence.

“Sorry,” says in a blank tone no one else than Regulus Black. His uniform is perfect, his hair is put in place and he even got the chance to get away from Y/N before any drop could be on him. “I didn’t see you there.”

She wants to shout. She wants to scream at him, grab her wand and curse him. She wants him to be as embarrassed as she is now, wet and watched by the entire dining hall. But she can’t. She got her father’s temper but she learned from him how to handle it. She needs to handle it.

“Regulus,” she says in a happy tone, “Evan was waiting for you,” it’s the only thing that comes out of her mouth as she looks only at him. Not at her housemates, her friends, or even over her shoulder at the boy who froze there with his friends, who are laughing at her.

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters. “Let’s go, Rosier,” he demands in a now friendly voice. “Horace is waiting in the classroom; he probably wants to talk about the Slug Club.”

That’s when Y/N forgets about everything and in the silence of her mind there is only Regulus’ voice. He probably wants to talk about the Slug Club. Still with a smile on her face, she gets her robes from the bench, wave goodbye to her friends and starts walking away. She cannot resists the temptation and looks at the Gryffindor table. He’s there, with Sirius on his left, laughing with his friends. After she leaves the Great Hall there’s a feeling of pressure on her whole body. Was he laughing of her? He could never, right? She was quite nice, after all.

Before entering the Potions class, she stood there for a few minutes, calming down. Now she’s putting on her dark robes, the silver snake shining on the green badge. As she’s buttoning it up, the steps of her colleagues echo through the dark corridor.

“There you are, Y/N,” sights Evan. He’s followed by Barty Crouch Jr and Regulus, who watches her like she’s sick with a blood curse. “You went ahead without looking back.”

“Oh, yeah, I got to make sure my robes cover the whole…” she looks only for a second at Regulus, “tea accident.” She says it while chuckling, like it was just a silly little accident which could happen to anyone. But not anyone would get away clean like he did after that kind of an accident.

“And yet you look worse than before,” Regulus speaks and his eyes points at her now clearly stained shirt. “Let’s go, boys, I’m sure Y/N knows how to dress herself,” he scoffs and smiles to her.

The other two boys follow him along and she sits there, blood boiling in her veins. Her anger is born because of two persons – her father, because he’d kill her if she was arguing with another Pureblood in public, especially Orion Black’s son, and Regulus Black, for being such and arse.

Horace Slughorn, however, didn’t seem to be that preoccupied by her entrance. He greeted her and went on with his lesson and for Merlin knows what time she finds herself thinking about Regulus, and how she’d strangle him with the tie around his neck if given the opportunity. Regulus has that power, to awake something in her that only wants to hurt him, to make him suffer and get out those cold eyes – maybe she could make a pair of earrings out of them. He was right besides her, sitting with Evan while she tried to ignore Barty’s jokes about their professor. Sometimes, she wishes so much to be away from them – she feels suffocated to be near them at school and also at home, when her father would take her with him at different events, but there’s no way that she could cross his word. You will act nice towards any pureblood kid, they are the only ones that deserve it – they are you only equals.

“That’s all for today, my dear students,” announces Slughorn and claps his hands together. “You have to write an essay about today’s lesson, in order for me to see that everything was very clear.”

She puts away her quill and ink and starts rolling the parchments that she took notes on. Barty plays drums in the wood of the table and Evan hits him behind his head with his notes. The two of them laugh and she can’t help but her Regulus’ scoff at their silly action.

“Oh, Mister Black, Miss Lestrange, could you stay for a little? I have something to tell you,” Slughorn says happily and goes over to his desk at the front of class.

“Yes, professor,” they both say and get up. They both also look at each other, eyes burning with annoyance.

“We’ll see you outside, ok?” asks Evan.

“Go on, don’t wait,” is the only answer he receives from Regulus before he goes first to Slughorn, Y/N right after him.

“Oh, my two favorite students!” the professor says as they remain alone in the classroom. “I hope the first days where excellent, kids.”

“Of course, sir,” Y/N smiles and Slughorn can’t help but lays his eyes a little longer on her, on her clothes. She was the only one that wore the robes during class.

“How are your parents, hm?” His question sits uneasy on them both. Y/N does not look at Regulus, Regulus does not look at Y/N – they both hope the other one will talk first.

And because she remembers her father’s words, she opens her mouth. “My father sends his greetings, sir. He got me a new potions book that I’ve read over the summer,” she says and accepts happily the proud nod from her professor.

“Very good, I’m pleased to hear that the vacation didn’t stop your liking for studying,” he laughs in a soft manner. “Right, Regulus? Miss Lestrange here sure is a great housemate, keeping our pride safe,” now is the Horace Slughorn, Head of Slytherin, that’s talking.

She sees with the corner of her eye that his body tenses. “Of course, professor,” he forces himself to say.

“Right,” Horace claps his hands together again, excited. “You two are the brightest students in my house, that’s the reason I’m sure you two will be also the brightest Prefects that Hogwarts has and will ever see!” He hands them the green badges, the word PREFECT being written on it with silver letters. “I’m sure you’ll make me very proud, children,” he says.

“You can be sure of it, sir. We’ll do our best,” Y/N smiles and looks at the metal badge from between her fingers.

“That’s all,” the professor says. “Come on, go to your business, I have another class now.”

She bites her tongue and smiles polite at him, before turning around.

“What about the Slug Club, sir?”

Regulus Black was not the most talkative person Y/N knew, but he sure was stubborn.

“Oh, Merlin, I nearly forgot! Of course, Mister Black, you and Miss Lestrange are more than welcome, I thought that’s already settled,” he said and smiled at them – Horace Slughorn wanted to make sure that the kids of two important families in the Wizarding World liked him as a teacher.

As soon as they leave the class, Regulus scoffs, the sound echoing in the corridor. “Maybe you’ll learn how to dress now that I’m forced to spend even more time with you.”

His voice is mocking, rude and teasing. Now that they’re alone, they can finally act how they really wish to. Y/N grabs the wand from her robes’ pocket and points it at Regulus, who’s now pressed against the stone wall and grins at her.

“If you ever try to outsmart me again, Black, I swear I’m gonna Crucio you,” she spats the words in his face and only for a second Regulus’ face drops, his eyes looking at the tip of the wand before returning at her face.

“Only if you’d be capable of doing something like that, you pathetic try of a witch,” he says and grabs her wand, pushing it away from his face.

“You really have a death wish?” she asks annoyed by his eyes that watch her with superiority, his curved lips that laugh at her.

“Careful, Y/N, you wouldn’t want you-know-who to find out what a brave and cruel witch you are, right? He may like it,” he laughs and walks away from her, leaving her alone at the door of the Potions’ class.

For a moment, she’s alone. And there’s silence. She looks at the green badge in her hand and exhales all the air in her lungs. And then, there’s laughter. And there’re steps which walk in her direction, and she wants to leave but she freezes pressed against the wall, right where Regulus was only a moment ago.

James Potter is walking beside a ginger girl; tall and beautiful and dressed in a red uniform, matching his. He makes her laugh as she’s playfully hitting his arm, telling him to stop. Y/N just stays there, and James doesn’t even seem to notice her. But the girl does – Y/N recognizes her as Lily Evans, the Muggleborn girl in James’ year. Lily’s green eyes watch Y/N as she sits there, badge in her hand, and the older witch smiles at her. She ignores James for a moment, giving Y/N a thumbs-up before pointing to her red badge, which had written HEADGIRL on it.

As they enter the room, Y/N starts walking away. She feels sad, maybe, heartbroken, even. She’s not sure. But she’s sure that she’s furious, angry, mad. Her father was right. Mudbloods and blood traitors deserve nothing.

And that’s only because James Potter picked the green eyes over the green badge.

#slytherin #angst #hogwarts #smut #regulus black #regulus x reader #slytherin reader #the black family #x reader #one way ticket #lestrange reader #james potter x reader #james potter x lily evans #the marauders #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin

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allthelovehes · 1 month

Text

Writing Retreat* | TEASER

Summary: Harry takes Y/N on a writing retreat to Italy, and given all this alone time causes things to bloom between him and his guitarist.

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Guitarist!Y/N

Word count: 2.5K TEASER of a 5K Patreon Exclusive!

Warnings: Unprotected sex, smut, p in v, swimming pool sex.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 @cherrylovers-world @harrys-littlefreak Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

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“You're coming with me to Italy right?” Harry asks Y/N through the phone, while he is sitting on the sofa in his living room. Harry is planning a writing retreat in Italy to work on his fourth album. He is hoping Y/N will agree to come with him as he could use her expertise for the project.

“Yeah, I am.” Y/N answers while looking at the plane tickets. She is currently staying in New York with a couple of friends to catch up with them before she leaves for Italy. “I bought my tickets already, we'll arrive on the same day.”

“Perfect. I'll send you the address of the Airbnb we're staying at so you can check out the local sights and stuff. The studio isn't far from there, so it will only be a short walk.” Harry says while smiling to himself, excited to have her there to help him write his songs.

“That sounds good.” Y/N says as she looks over her shoulder and sees her friend walking into the kitchen. “I'll text you tomorrow. I can't wait to see you.”

“Me too.” Harry smiles to himself again.

“Y/N, do you have a boyfriend you never told us about?” Her friend suddenly says as she puts down her phone and Y/N can hear a bit of a laugh in her voice.

“No.” Y/N shakes her head as she turns towards her friend. “Why are you asking that?”

“You have this look on your face that tells me you're smitten with someone.” Her friend says, smiling. She is onto something as Y/N is indeed head over heels for Harry and that's where it gets complicated. Not only is he her best friend, but also her boss, so she doesn't want to mix the two together.

“I don't.” Y/N laughs, shaking her head as she gets up. She walks into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and her friend follows her.

“Then who were you talking to?” She asks, smiling.

“Harry.” Y/N answers honestly as she turns the kettle on and grabs two mugs from the cupboard.

“The Harry?” Her friend asks, her eyes growing wide. “Harry Styles, the man you have worked for the past years? Your best friend, Harry?”

“Yes, the one and only.” Y/N laughs and her friend laughs with her.

“Does he know about your feelings?” Her friend asks as she sits down on the barstool at the counter.

“Gosh, there's no feelings for him to know about. We're friends.” Y/N answers, not looking at her friend as she takes the teabags from the top drawer and puts one in each mug.

“Sure, okay. I get it.” Her friend says, not believing her.

“I mean, yeah, he's attractive. But I'm sure every girl thinks that.” Y/N adds.

“Not just every girl, but most girls.” Her friend replies. “Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

“I can't.” Y/N answers simply as she turns to look at her friend. “He's my boss.”

“But you also said you're his friend, right?” Her friend says. “You'll be with him on a holiday for the next couple of weeks, plenty of time to figure it out.”

“We'll see.” Y/N replies as the kettle boils and she turns back around to make their cups of tea. ***

The next morning, Y/N's alarm wakes her up and she immediately gets out of bed. She goes to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, before going to the kitchen. It's 8 am and Y/N has to be at the airport in two hours to catch her flight. She made some sandwiches the night before and packs them into a box along with some drinks. Then she packs the last of her stuff in her suitcase and grabs her handbag. Her friends are still sleeping and they offered to take her to the airport, but Y/N decided she would get an Uber. She is too nervous to sit in a car with her friends on her way to the airport.

When the Uber arrives, she sends her friends a text to let them know she's leaving and she opens the trunk before the driver helps her put her suitcase in the car. Once she's seated in the back, the driver starts the journey to the airport.

Y/N checks her phone for the hundredth time this morning and Harry hasn't sent her a message yet. She knows he's probably sleeping, as he's flying in from London, but she is hoping he's up soon to send her a message. Y/N is excited to see him.

She opens Instagram and scrolls through her feed. She is a little nervous to go on a writing trip with Harry. What if they spend all day and night together in their own private bubble and something happens between them? She isn't sure what to do if that were to happen, but she is also trying to not think about it.

It's not like they'll be the only ones in the studio but the Airbnb is just for the two of them. Harry made sure to book a proper house for them, with enough rooms and a pool. It is a big Airbnb, located close to the beach and the studio. There's a kitchen where the two of them can cook their meals and the bedrooms both have their own ensuite.

Y/N can't help but daydream a little about sharing the house with Harry. It's the first time the two of them will live together and she wonders what it will be like. She has known him for so long, but living with someone is always a different story.

The ride to the airport goes by fast and once Y/N has checked in, she grabs a coffee and waits for her plane to start boarding. As she sits down, her phone lights up and a smile appears on her face when she sees Harry's name pop up.

HarryHey, can't wait to see you. You at the airport yet?

Y/NHey. Yeah, just boarded the plane. See you soon!

HarryText me when you arrive and I'll come get you.

Y/NWill do. x

She puts her phone into airplane mode and takes a sip from her coffee, while she looks outside at the planes landing and taking off. She has done this so many times before, but this time is different.

After a couple of hours, Y/N's plane lands in Milan and she is relieved to finally be on solid ground. She is greeted by the warm Italian air as she walks to the baggage claim and takes her phone out of airplane mode. Her phone buzzes immediately and she smiles as she sees Harry's name light up the screen.

HarryI'm outside, can't wait to see you.

Y/NOutside where?

HarryBaggage claim.

Y/N smiles as she picks up her suitcase from the conveyor belt and walks outside, searching for Harry. She is surprised when she sees him standing outside, his eyes fixated on his phone, and her heart beats a little faster. He is wearing a loose t-shirt, jean shorts and his curls are styled perfectly.

“Hey.” Y/N says, her voice sounding a little nervous.

Harry lifts his gaze from his phone and he smiles when he sees Y/N. He quickly puts his phone away and walks towards her. “Hey.” He says as he wraps his arms around her and Y/N feels her body melt into his embrace. His scent is intoxicating and she lets out a deep breath.

“How was the flight?” Harry asks as he pulls away.

“Fine. How was yours?” Y/N asks as they start walking.

“It was good.” Harry nods, smiling.

“I thought I was supposed to let you know I'm here before you'd come pick me up.” Y/N laughs and Harry's smile grows wider.

“Well, I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to see you.” He says, his words causing butterflies in Y/N's stomach.

They make their way through the airport and soon, they are outside. It's hotter than Y/N expected it to be, but the Italian air feels nice. They get into Harry's rental car. She tries to focus on the beautiful buildings, parks and trees, but her mind keeps wandering off to the fact that she'll be living with the man beside her for the next couple of weeks.

“Here we are.” Harry says as he parks the car and Y/N is snapped back to reality.

“Wow, this is huge.” Y/N exclaims as she takes in the villa. It's even better than the pictures showed. It has a large porch with a garden in front of the house and she can see the pool behind the house.

“Yeah.” Harry says as he gets out of the car and walks around to get Y/N's suitcase from the trunk.

“Let me help you.” Y/N says as she grabs the other side of her suitcase and they walk up the stairs towards the entrance.

“No, no, I've got it.” Harry shakes his head and Y/N lets go of her suitcase. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him.

“Thanks.” She says as Harry opens the front door and pushes her suitcase inside.

“This is our home for the next couple of weeks.” Harry says as they walk further into the house. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Where is my room?” Y/N asks as she takes her shoes off.

“Uhm, upstairs, the first door on the left.” Harry answers.

“Thanks.” Y/N nods. “I'll just bring my suitcase upstairs, unpack and freshen up a little.”

“No problem.” Harry says and Y/N can feel his eyes on her as she climbs the stairs. She opens the door and smiles as she takes in the beautiful bedroom. It has a king-sized bed, a couch and a desk. She places her suitcase on the couch and opens it.

“This is nice.” Harry says and Y/N turns around to see him leaning against the doorway.

“Yeah.” Y/N nods. “Much bigger than my bedroom in London.”

“I'm glad you like it.” Harry smiles as he steps into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed. “So, how have you been?” ***

It's been a couple of days since the two of them arrived at their dream destination and they have spent most of their time exploring the area. They have gone to the beach, the shops and restaurants and today is the first day they will start working in the studio.

Y/N has woken up early, even though they stayed up late the night before. They have gone to a fancy restaurant where they had some good food and wine.

“Morning.” Harry's voice comes from behind her as Y/N stands in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to be ready.

“Hey.” Y/N says, smiling. “There's coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks.” Harry says as he steps towards the coffee machine and grabs a cup.

“Do you have anything planned for today?” Y/N asks.

“We're going to the studio, right?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah.” Y/N says, nodding her head. “I have some ideas for a new song, actually.”

“Really? That's great.” Harry says, his eyes lighting up. “We should get breakfast on the way.”

“Okay, let's go.” Y/N nods and follows him outside.

Once they are in the studio, they settle in the control room and Harry hands Y/N his notebook. She flips through the pages, seeing the songs he's already written and some notes he's made.

“Can I play something for you?” Harry asks.

“Of course.” Y/N smiles, turning her attention back to Harry.

“I want your honest opinion, okay?” He says and Y/N nods her head. “So, it's not finished yet. I just want to hear how it sounds with the melody.”

“Go ahead.” Y/N says.

Harry sits down on the chair and starts playing the piano. His fingers hit the keys and Y/N closes her eyes, letting his voice and the music engulf her. It's a beautiful song, the lyrics and melody flowing perfectly together.

“How is it?” Harry asks when he finishes and Y/N opens her eyes.

“It's amazing, Harry. Really.” Y/N says, her voice is sincere.

“You really think so?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Y/N says as she gets up from the chair and steps closer to Harry. “I really do.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiles, looking down at his feet.

“Let's add some guitars and record a demo. See how it sounds.” Y/N suggests and Harry nods.

“Okay, let's do it.” Harry agrees, following her out of the control room and into the live room. They work on the song until the late afternoon, recording and mixing the demo. ***

Two weeks later, they have a lot of work done on the album and Harry's been playing the guitar and singing for most of the days. Y/N's been listening, offering him some advice and helping him out with the arrangements along with other people who dropped into the studio here and there.

It's late at night and they're sitting on the porch, a glass of wine in their hands.

“I think we're almost done with the album.” Harry says.

“Yeah, it's coming along really nicely.” Y/N replies, looking over at him. “It's a good one, Harry. Really.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiles. “It wouldn't be the same without you.”

“Of course it would.” Y/N smiles, blushing a little.

“No, it wouldn't.” Harry shakes his head, his eyes on hers. “You've been such a big part of it.”

“It's your music, your songs. It's a big part of you, Harry.” Y/N says, not breaking the eye contact.

“Exactly, but it's your words. Your inspiration. Your heart.” Harry replies, his eyes falling on her lips for a split second.

“Well, I'm glad I could help.” Y/N whispers, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I've never felt like this when writing songs, Y/N.” Harry admits. “It's almost like... I don't know.”

“Like what?” Y/N asks.

“I don't know, it's different. More, more real. More meaningful. Something like that.” Harry says, a smile playing on his lips.

“It's the Italian air.” Y/N says, her eyes looking up at the sky.

“It's you.” Harry corrects her. “Your presence.”

“I'm sure it's just the Italian air.” Y/N says, looking down. She is afraid that if she looks at Harry, her feelings will be obvious and she doesn't want that.

“I'm serious.” Harry says, placing his hand on her chin and making her look at him.

“So am I.” Y/N whispers, her heart beating even faster.

“Then prove it.” Harry challenges her, his hand still on her chin.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Prove it.” Harry repeats, his eyes falling down to her lips again.

“How?” Y/N asks, her voice barely audible.

“Kiss me.” Harry whispers.

“Harry...” Y/N starts, shaking her head.

“Y/N.” Harry says, his voice firm. “Kiss me.”

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heavenlyakin · 8 months

Text

starboy - atsumu miya x fem!reader

wc: ~5.8k

cw: fem reader, on-page drug use, alcohol consumption, the reader has red hair and hazel eyes (sorry, not sorry), reader blushes, and a little angst towards the end.

a/n: 18+ only please. I use “--” to switch POVs in this fic and “ – – –” is a time skip. I really hope you like this silly little AU! It’s giving Wattpad kid grows up and uses Tumblr and AO3 now. Sorry there’s no smut in this, but I might write a part 2 (please don’t ask for one because that’ll kill my vibes). If you’re interested in the playlist mentioned that they listen to, I’ll be happy to link it!

Part 2

—

Every crowd is the same, but somehow different in a multitude of ways. It’s a dichotomy that Atsumu hasn’t quite figured out yet. After years of touring and performing he thought he knew about everything about entertaining a crowd and getting them riled up. He’d sold out more than enough shows to back this idea up.

However, on night two of touring his third studio album, he notices you in the crowd. The glitter on your eyes falling to your cheeks reflects the stage lighting and draws him to your eyes. That’s when he notices your red hair, the burgundy red is a sight to see. He winks like he would to anyone else, but something in him yearns to walk back down the catwalk to you again. He resists, knowing he needs to keep doing his job.

But, he does look for you the next night.

He’s glad to see you’re back. He’s noticed fans going to multiple shows before and has invited them to the after-parties for being so loyal, so he thinks he wants to extend the offer. The other girls that seem to stick around are nice enough, and the band never seems to mind. When he’s changing between the third and fourth song of the night, he tells his manager to send someone out to see if you want to join them after the show.

He’s happy to hear back after the show that you accepted.

Outside the city limits, the rented house is big enough for hundreds of people to move around freely, but Atsumu got over massive parties after his first tour. The glamor of the drinking, drugs, and even the people he thought he loved being around seemed to lose their shine. With only about 30 people here now, he’s much more comfortable in this space.

From his seat on the velvet couch with his brother, he notices you come in; walking through the door in the same outfit you’d worn to his show tonight. The glittery lavender tube top is something to see, but his eyes linger on your legs, covered in iridescent shimmering tights under white shorts. Your smile and wave to another girl across the room makes him look away.

“How many more nights are we staying in LA?” Osamu asks his brother, taking a rip from the bong after. The smoke floats above the brothers, whirling in the colorful lavender lighting.

“Two more, then the tour really kicks off in the States.” He tells him, taking the bong from him and taking a hit.

He coughs after the smoke leaves his body and Osamu laughs at him. Atsumu has tried plenty, but he’s no longer used to the feeling. He takes a sip of water, leaning back on the couch and stretching his legs out on the table, careful to avoid Osamu’s stash.

“I think this will be better than even last time,” he tells him. “I’m glad you decided to come with me.”

Osamu shrugs, “I needed a break from the restaurant.”

He’s not staying the whole tour with Atsumu, just the first leg of the U.S. tour, and then flying back home during the busy season at the restaurant. Osamu has been at his brother’s side since his early days trying to get a studio just to listen to one of his tracks, and now he’s watched him grow into one of the biggest Jpop stars in the world. He’d never tell him, but he’s proud.

How Atsumu gained his fame is quite the story, hard to believe really. Who would have thought that a little karaoke fun would have led to all this? It still shocks Atsumu to this day. Every night he wonders when the crowds will lessen, when the tickets will stop selling out, and when this dream will all be over.

“Can we join you?” Your unfamiliar voice sounds like a song Atsumu wants to write, but he shakes it off.

He’s slept with fans, had his fill, and he’s too old for this now. Nothing is exciting about someone who would do anything for you just because they are obsessed with you, not because they know you… the real you.

It’s just the excitement for the new tour that’s getting to him.

“Of course,” Osamu answers before Atsumu can tell you and your friend to sit.

Atsumu ignores the irritation that washes over him as you sit beside Osamu, your thighs touching. He ignores the way Osamu smiles and drapes his arm over your shoulder. He ignores the sting in his chest that’s unlike anything he’s felt before.

He looks away as your friend sits on the couch beside him.

–

Your friend starts talking to him and you notice Atsumu engages her in a friendly manner, but he’s reserved. Something you hadn’t expected. His brother, on the other hand, isn’t shy. The way Osamu’s thumb rubs circles onto your soft skin is enough to drive you wild. However, you don’t want to be that girl.

“Do you always tour with your brother?” You ask, making conversation. You know he doesn’t, but that won’t stop you from playing the part.

“No, I’ve never joined him before,” Osamu tells you and you look past him to Atsumu, he’s engaged in conversation with the girl you met tonight.

Honestly, tonight feels like a fanfiction you read when you were younger, getting to meet the band after the show and potentially fucking the lead or another member. The lead singer’s brother isn’t exactly who you imagined this playing out with, but you’re old enough now to know life is rarely like it is in stories… even if you did get invited to your favorite artist’s after-party. Despite the girl flinging herself towards Atsumu, after telling you that you couldn’t, you’re not going to let this ruin a good time.

However, when you look over at her and Atsumu, it seems like he’s more interested in the bottle of water between his hands than the girl on his right. Serves her right for being a bitch about you wanting to talk to him.

“Have you always been a fan?” Osamu asks you, and you realize you were probably spacing out.

“Oh, yeah. For the last few years anyway after his debut album.” You answer and he nods. This conversation is going nowhere. “Do you want a drink?” You ask him, seeing that his cup is empty.

He smiles and nods. “Come with me to refill it.”

–

Atsumu watches as you leave with his brother, disappearing into another room obscured from his view. He couldn’t hear what you were talking about with Osamu, thanks to the girl beside him rambling on about a festival she saw him at a few years ago. He can’t find it in him to care whatever she's saying about it.

Where is Osamu taking you? His irritation is present on his face, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as if he can see through the walls.

“Are you listening to me?” The girl, whose name he’s sure she told him, asks him.

“Not really,” he smiles to soften the blow. “Excuse me,” he gets up off the couch, leaving her behind without glancing back for her reaction.

He finds Osamu at the bar with you, wrapped up in conversation and mixing a drink that you take a sip of as he approaches.

“Can I talk to you?” Atsumu asks his brother.

Osamu looks surprised but nods. “I’ll be back in a moment, doll.”

“Not her,” Atsumu tells him, his voice barely containing the blinding feelings he’s experiencing all at once. “Not tonight.”

“Calling dibs?” He smirks, a laugh falling from his lips. “Fine, fine,” he shrugs after seeing the look of irritation on his twin’s face. “I’ll go talk to the blonde you were ignoring then,” he says and leaves the room.

Atsumu watches as Osamu goes to the living room of the rented house. The girl’s face lights up when he speaks to her. She drops her phone on the couch beside her and gives him the attention she wasn’t receiving. He turns back and sees you, sipping from a red solo cup and looking defeated.

“Why so sad?” He asks, leaning on the bar and flashing his winning smile. Your eyes light up and he sees they’re hazel.

You shrug, “I’m not. Just bored.”

Bored… she’s bored?

–

Fuck, why did you say that to him? Atsumu Miya, the biggest star in Japan and maybe even the world right now… thinks you’re bored at his party.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you stutter your words, trying to change his confused look to one of more understanding. “I’m just, not used to this.”

He chuckles, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, I get that.” He tells you. “I guess this is a lot for someone who hasn’t been to our tour before.”

“I’ve been to your other tours.” You fire back, brows furrowed.

“I’ve never seen you before tonight.” He grins, and you think he’s enjoying picking on you.

“I’ve never been able to afford front row before now. I’ve always been in the lower sections. I don’t think even your pretty eyes can see that far back.” You take a sip of the punch that has something in it, maybe vodka. You’re not well-versed in alcoholic beverages enough to differentiate between them.

“I see,” he says and looks up towards the ceiling, teetering back on his heels.

Something about this little movement takes you by surprise. It makes him… real? You knew he was a real person, of course, but something so casual never crossed your mind. That’s the thing with celebrity idolization, you lose their sense of humanity.

That’s weird, isn’t it? But… it’s true.

“You seem a little bored yourself,” you comment, setting your drink down on the bar, but keeping it in front of you. “Not enjoying your own party?”

He looks at you, something on his face you can’t quite read. “It’s just not the same as it used to be, ya know. It’s more of an obligation.”

“You shouldn’t live your life for others.” This time, he frowns at you.

–

Is she serious? The look on her face makes it seem so.

Atsumu laughs, running his hand through his hair, feeling the gel still in it from the show. “I don’t think that’s true with my profession.”

Everything about him is for others.

She shrugs, her red hair falling over her face. She brushes it away and tucks it behind her ear and he wishes he’d done it for her. “I don’t think that has to be true.”

He leans on the bar, his elbows against the wood and hands supporting his face. “If you say so.”

– – –

Osamu leaves after three weeks, but that’s a quarter of the tour. They visited 9 cities during this time, but the parties started to dwindle. Everything from the second night of his show in LA is still stuck in his head. Red hair and hazel eyes haunt his dreams, even now. Plus, he can’t get out of his head what she said.

You shouldn’t live your life for others.

Isn’t that what he’s always done? Each album, every show, every meet and greet, every television or radio appearance, it’s all been for them… the fans. He puts a piece of himself in it all.

How many more pieces does he have left?

“Astumu,” his manager's voice grabs his attention. “The bus is stopping for fuel. Do you want anything from the station?”

“I can go in. It’s late, there won’t be a crowd of people.” He likes to go do his own bidding when he can, even though many times it ends with security having to drag him through crowds.

His manager frowns. “We don’t have security ready to take you in.”

“Who the hell is going to be out this late? It’s 3 a.m. in the middle of nowhere outside Pittsburgh. No one will be there.” Atsumu says, probably more harshly than he intended.

He sighs, but his manager moves out of the way and lets him leave the tour bus. The chilly air hits his warm skin, making him shiver as he approaches the gas station. He recalls the last update from the driver. They’re only 60 or so miles south of Pittsburgh. Then they’ll spend three nights there for the two shows this weekend.

Atsumu was right, there’s almost no one here. The cashier looks half asleep at the register, and there are few cars in the lot. He turns towards the coolers full of drinks, looking for a Gatorade he likes. He locates the light blue color, opens the cooler, and grabs the cold drink.

As he turns, his eyes catch on red hair walking down the aisle next to his. He can’t help himself, he follows it.

“-----,” he says, shocked that you’re in this random gas station.

Looking at you, he takes in your appearance. So different from the night he met you. You’re in casual clothes, pink sweatpants hanging off your hips, with a matching sweatshirt. Your hair is still down, but something about it looks different, maybe it’s the waves in it. You’re without makeup too, but he’s never seen someone so beautiful.

“Atsumu?” You look as shocked as he is. “What are you doing here?” You wave your hand around, and he notices the bag of salt and vinegar chips you’re holding in it.

“Heading to Pittsburgh for our shows this weekend. What are YOU doing here?” Atsumu raises his brows, smiling at you.

“I, uh, I live here. Well, close to here.” You tell him, and he nods but is more confused than ever.

“Then why were you in LA for my show? Wouldn’t Pittsburgh be an easier show to go to for you?”

“Quite the interrogator, huh?” You laugh and Atsumu wants to record it and put it in a song. “If you must know, I won tickets and a hotel room by the venue on a radio contest. I was lucky caller number 7 and got two nights to see you.”

“Oh,” he never considered that. “Are you coming this weekend?”

“Oh no, I didn’t get tickets. They’re really expensive.”

Atsumu’s heart sinks. You won’t be there.

“Come with me. I think I can get you in.” He winks and you laugh. A few moments pass and he realizes you didn’t take it as seriously as he meant it. “I’m serious. Come with us.”

“Atsumu, you can’t be serious.” You laugh, cheeks blushing. He stares at you, again something on his face that you can’t quite read. “Oh, you are.”

He nods. “Pretty serious.”

“Look at me,” you gesture with your hands at your body. “I can’t just hop on the tour bus with you and head off to Pittsburgh. I don’t have anything on me.”

“I can get you whatever you need. I have assistants.” He feels desperate now like this moment is going to change the projection of his life. “Please, —--. I want you there.”

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “Fine, but we have to go to my place and get my stuff.”

“We can do that!”

–

Atsumu is basically jumping with excitement and you wonder how in the absolute fuck this is happening right now. Of course, he’d find you on your 3 a.m. snack run when you look an absolute mess.

“Okay, let me just go pay for these,” you start to turn for the register, but Atsumu snatches the bag of chips and Dr. Pepper from your hands.

“I got these.” He smiles and the irritation leaves your body. Fuck it, he can afford it.

“Thank you,” you tell him, walking with him to the register. “Are you like… allowed to come with me to get my stuff or are you going to have to wait here for me?”

“Allowed?” He laughs, tapping his card on the card reader. The familiar ping rings in your ears as it accepts the charge. “Of course, I am. I do have autonomy, ya know.”

“Sorry, Mr. Pop Star. Didn’t know if there were any rules you have to follow.” You tell him as he opens the door for you.

“Well, we do need to go tell my manager.” He sighs. “He’s kind of a hard ass. But he can’t stop me.”

“Can I wait in my car for that?” You laugh, not wanting to awkwardly be standing there when they have it out over him going home with a strange girl.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Which one is it?”

You unlock your car, the lights flashing. “That one. I’ll warm it up for us.”

The nights have begun to become chilly, fall setting in and all. You actually turned your heat on in your apartment tonight for the first time since late spring. You part ways, Atsumu heading towards the bus fueling area and you to your car. It’s a good fifteen minutes before you see him walking to your car, waving his hands with a big smile. You unlock the car and he slides in the passenger seat.

“Went well?” You ask.

“Oh, no. He’s absolutely pissed, but that’s not my problem.” He buckles himself in and you laugh.

“Well, he’s gonna be even more pissed when it takes an hour to get back. I live twenty minutes from here.”

“Oh well,” he shrugs as you put the car in drive.

The radio softly plays his second album and you feel your cheeks warm. “Sorry, I can change it,” you reach for the radio.

He stops you, his cold hand touching yours. You pull back, embarrassed and smiling.

“I like this one a lot. I wish we could still play it.” He tells you, turning it up.

“Why don’t you play it anymore?”

“It just didn’t do as well as others.” He shrugs and you feel bad. It’s not your favorite song, but it isn’t in your bottom tier either.

“You should play it tomorrow.”

“I’ll think about it,” he looks over at you and smiles.

The rest of the car ride you spend humming along to his second album, smiling and giggling when he sings certain lines to mess with you, and having genuinely one of the best times in your life. Hearing Atsumu live, even at his shows, has never sounded like this.

This feels… intimate.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say pulling into the apartment parking lot. “Please be quiet though. My roommate is sleeping. Plus she might scream if she sees you.”

“A fan?”

“Yes,” you roll your eyes and get out of the car.

Then you remember… the poster in your room…

“Oh. Um.” You stop him at the door of your apartment. “No laughing at me, but I might have your Rolling Stone cover on my bedroom wall.”

Atsumu laughs, shaking his head. His hair falls over his forehead. “That’s okay. I won’t tease you…. For now.”

“Fine,” you huff and open the door, welcoming him to the apartment. It’s dark so you turn on your flashlight on your phone “Remember, be quiet until we get to my room.”

He nods and follows you. You take off your shoes, and he does the same, then you show him to your room. To your surprise, he is quiet the whole way to your bedroom. Once you turn the lights on and shut the door behind him you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes immediately go to the poster adjacent to you.

“Remember, don’t laugh at me.” You turn to him and he puts his hands up in defense, a goofy smile on his face. “Also, I’m sorry about the state of my room.” There are clothes strung about, makeup here and there, and who knows what else is all over your dresser.

“As long as you don’t judge the tour bus, I won’t judge you,” he shrugs and doesn’t look around at the mess.

You pick up a few shirts on your way to the closet, tossing them in a basket to wash later. Honestly, they could be clean and just left out while you were getting dressed and forgotten about, but you don’t want to take the risk.

Atsumu is still standing awkwardly by the door.

“You can sit on my bed if you want,” you laugh, patting the duvet. At least your bed was made tonight.

He sits, crossing his legs and watching you as you go through your stuff to decide what to bring. It takes a few minutes to decide what you want to wear to the shows, but longer to decide what makeup to throw into a bag to go with them. It’s all probably too much but you finally finish packing.

“All done!” You declare, turning with two bags to face Atsumu.

You go to take a step, but your foot catches on a pair of shorts on the floor and you fall on the bed, on top of Atsumu. He reacts, catching you and falling back onto the bed with you hovering over him. He smiles, his face so close to yours now.

“Are you alright?” He asks, barely above a whisper.

You part your lips to speak, but you can’t so you close them. Your heart pounds in your chest. Hyper-aware of Atsumu’s hands on your waist, the feeling of your lower bodies smooshed against each other, and his lips oh so close to yours.

“Yes,” you finally get out and you feel yourself moving towards his lips.

No, you’re not moving; he is.

Atsumu’s lips brush against yours, his right hand leaving your waist and cupping your cheek. His lips are warm and taste sweet like a sugary drink. You kiss him back, trying to will your heart to slow down, sure he can feel it pounding in your chest. His thumb rubs against your cheek, the feeling sending shivers down your spine.

You pull away slowly, catching your breath and looking at Atsumu’s smile.

–

The way you look at him takes his breath away. That kiss, that feeling, it was unlike anything he’d experienced before. He’s aware of how he’s reacting, wondering if you can feel him through his and your pants or if he’s lucky enough that you don’t think he’s a creep.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he brushes your hair away from your face and behind your ear.

“I’m not.” He’s regretted things in his life, and this will never be one of them.

You smile and he feels himself relax, “I’m not really sorry either. Well except for the falling on you. That was kinda embarrassing.”

He laughs, laying his head back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. All of this feels surreal, even with his life the way it is. He watches as you move off of him, picking up the bags you dropped and shoving a few last-minute items into the larger one.

“Ready to go?” You ask him and he rolls off the bed and stands.

“Are you?” He grabs your waist, pulls you into him again, and kisses your forehead.

You feel hot against his lips and he wonders if it’s because of him. When he looks at you again, your cheeks are flushed, so it definitely is because of him.

“Let me take those,” he grabs the straps of your bags as you relinquish them, allowing him to toss them over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you smile at him and he follows you out of the apartment and to your car.

“You should show me some other music you like on the drive back,” he tells you, placing your bags in the back seat.

“I’ll let you look at my Spotify and choose,” you smile, starting the car and handing your phone to him.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here.” He scrolls through your playlists, laughing at the one random country playlist with early 2000s music in it, and selects one of them.

“Are you serious?” You turn your head and stare at him, waiting for the light to turn green. “Not this one.”

“Too late,” he laughs. “You said I could choose.”

The car ride is filled with silly country songs he chooses, each one making you yell at him for picking it. He even forced you to explain why you selected each one for the playlist. He can’t remember the last time he had this much fun with someone.

You pull the car into the gas station parking lot, pulling up close to the tour bus. He looks at the clock and sees it at half past 4. He hopes that he’s able to sleep at least for a few hours on the bus. He watches as you get out, giving himself a second to gather his thoughts before getting out and grabbing your bags.

To his surprise, his manager doesn’t say anything when they get on the bus. He looks at you, but he can tell it’s not bothering you at least. He shows you to the back of the bus, his room for all intents and purposes.

“You can put your stuff anywhere you want. We’ll have a hotel room when we get to Pittsburgh soon.” He says then realizes you might want your own room. “Should we ask for your own room?”

“Do you want me to be in my own room?” You ask him and he shakes his head.

“I’d hate that, honestly.”

“Then I’ll stay with you.” You move to sit on the bed, looking around the room. “So, this is how Japan’s sweetheart lives on the road.”

“It’s as glamorous as it looks,” he laughs, laying on the bed on his side, his head propped up by his hand. “You get used to it pretty quickly, really.”

You lay down, on your back but turn your face towards him. “Don’t you miss being home, though?”

He shrugs, “Sometimes. I miss my family more than that really. I was glad Osamu stayed with us up until recently, but I won’t see my mom until the end of the tour.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you.” You tell him and he feels his chest warming. You yawn and he realizes how late, well early, it is.

“You should sleep until we get to Pittsburgh,” he tells you.

“You should too,” you tell him, eyes fluttering shut.

–

When you wake up, Atsumu is draped around you, his breath warm on your neck. You smile, taking it in and enjoying the quiet sounds of his breathing. His body is warm against yours and you’re surprised by how comforting this feels.

How is any of this real?

Yesterday you were working and then decided you needed a break from your dissertation and decided to go get snacks. Now, you’re sleeping on Atsumu’s tour bus in his bed going to his weekend shows.

A knock on the door grabs your attention and you nudge Atsumu.

“‘Tsumu,” you whisper, “someone is at the door.”

“Probably Jeff.” He whispers back. “My manager.” He tears himself off of you and goes to the door.

“We’re in Pittsburgh. Decided to let you sleep here for a few hours, but we need to check in to the hotel and then get to the venue for sound check.” Jeff sounds no-nonsense through the door. “Get your stuff and let's get moving.”

Atusmu shuts the door and you set up on the bed. “Please tell me your hotel room has a bathroom.”

Atusmu laughs, “Of course it does.”

You gather your bags, grateful you didn’t unpack anything and Atsumu helps you take it up to his hotel room. To your surprise it isn’t in the downtown area close to the venue, but instead closer to the suburbs. Perhaps it’s easier for him to have some privacy this way?

The hotel room is the largest you’ve ever been in. The room is as large as your apartment, truly. This is more like what you envisioned when you thought about what it would be like to be on tour with Atsumu, and what fanfictions described.

“I call dibs on the bathroom first,” you say, laughing but completely serious.

“All yours,” he throws himself on the king-sized bed, seeming to fall asleep instantly.

You brush your teeth first before hopping in the shower and taking an everything shower. You scrub, shave, wash your hair and face, and then moisturize your entire body after. As you’re drying your hair with the hotel dryer, you wonder if it's bothering Atsumu’s rest. You peek your head out of the door, still wrapped in the hotel robe.

Atsumu is standing in the middle of the room at the round dining table, eating a slice of orange. “Hey,” he raises his eyebrows, and you close the robe more across your chest.

“Did you order breakfast?” You ask walking in to sit at the table, clearly full of the food he ordered.

“Jeff probably did,” he tells you and sits next to you. “He sent more than enough, clearly.”

You load up a plate with eggs, bacon, and fruit. “Give him my thanks,” you laugh and begin eating.

As you eat together, Atsumu gives you a rundown of tonight's plans, the show isn’t until 7 and he doesn’t go on until about 8. So you have lots of time to kill, but there’s still soundcheck in the late afternoon. But, the plan is to just hang out here until then.

“Plenty of time for me to destroy this hotel room and get you in trouble,” you tease.

“Oh please,” he laughs. “They’d never believe it was me. I have a perfect record of leaving everywhere I stay in great condition.”

“Whoa, goody-two-shoes on our hands.” You tease and he throws a grape at you. “Oh, there goes your clean record.” You say as it hits the floor and he rolls his eyes.

– – –

Atsumu paces around the room and you notice he’s flexing his hands a lot. He’s dressed in a similar outfit he wore in LA, but a slightly different design. The gold sparkles compliment his skin, and you can’t ignore how nice his muscles look. The vest without a shirt is a good look on him.

“Nervous?” You ask, picking at the black skirt you chose for tonight.

“Excited,” he replies. “I love doing this. It makes it all worth it.”

You can’t help but smile back at him, he looks like he’s glowing and he’s not even under stage lighting yet. Maybe he was born for this.

“So, I get to sit in this cozy room and enjoy the show on this television while you perform?” You ask.

“Or, you can come backstage and stand near Jeff. He might not be the best conversationalist, though.” He suggests and you shake your head.

“If I’m here I’ll at least get to see you change throughout the show.”

“Pervert,” he teases and you shrug.

“I’m basically living every fan’s dream right now, let me enjoy it.” You stand up, walking towards him and he takes your hands in his.

“I hope I’m living up to your expectations,” he looks a little sad and you cock your head.

“This is more than I ever imagined.”

He smiles now, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “Wish me luck,” he says softly.

You break the space between you and kiss him softly. “Good luck,” you whisper against his lips.

He hugs you tightly before pulling away and leaving the room to go get in position to take the stage for tonight’s show. You sit back on a chair in the green room, watching the screen as the cameras start to focus on the stage. The show’s set is just like the two nights you spent in LA until he plays the song you requested. He dedicates it to a special someone, and you want to cry.

He has to mean you, right?

There isn’t anyone else he’s doing this with, right?

You’d be naive to believe he isn’t doing this in every city, but some part of you is holding onto a nugget of hope that what he’s showing you is real. However, even if it isn’t you’ll remember this for the rest of your life.

He joins you for a few minutes a third of the way through the show, and you get to tell him he’s doing amazing. He kisses you before he goes, and then this repeats once more when he changes again. Once the show is over, the band joins him in the green room and you don’t get much time to talk to him. You socialize with everyone, but ultimately end up back at Atsumu’s hotel room. He’s still riding off his high, talking about different nights of the show and how tonight compares.

“I don’t think there’s been a better crowd, truly.” He tells you, tossing himself back onto the bed.

You smile and laugh. “Maybe the East Coast is just better than the West.”

“Maybe,” he laughs and sits up on the bed. “Would it be weird if I asked if you wanted to shower with me?”

You stop moving, “I- uh-” you stutter and shake your head.

He gets off the bed, crosses the room to you, and kisses you. “You can say no, it won’t break my heart.”

He disappears into the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief.

–

After Atsumu showers, he finds you on the couch, half asleep watching a rerun of a sitcom he’s not familiar with.

“Hey,” he says softly, stroking your hair. “The bathroom is free if you need it.”

You come to and nod. “Thank you,” you yawn before going to the bathroom.

When you emerge you're in black pajamas and your hair braided into two braids. Atsumu can’t take his eyes off of you. He can’t deny your beauty when you’re all done up, but this is something else. He feels like he’s in the presence of a deity.

When you crawl into bed, he pulls you against him, kissing you deeply. You gasp against his lips and he chuckles. He rolls you onto your back, hovering over you and parting your legs with his knee. You whimper as he grazes your core, but he controls himself.

In his head, he hears the melody of the moans he’d bring out of you and feels himself getting hard.

“Atsumu, wait,” you put your hands on his chest and he pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling away from your lips and looking down at you.

Tears are threatening to spill out of those pretty hazel eyes.

“I can’t do this. I want to go home.”

#atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu miya fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

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goddesspharo · 5 months

Note

Seems ill-advised, tbqh.

"You don't want to hear the kinds of questions I've got."

#hannix

[Send me the first sentence and a pairing and I'll write the next five.]

"You don't want to hear the kinds of questions I've got."

Natasha rolls her eyes and warns Jake not to make her regret bringing him home for Thanksgiving. She's still not sure that they're quite there yet, but it's not like she can uninvite him now. He had looked so pathetic last week when he told her that "The Seresin Family Hang-sgiving" was canceled this year because his parents needed to use up the tickets to Venice his sister had gifted them two anniversaries ago before December so he was probably going to stick around North Island and hang out at The Hard Deck with all the other lushes who had nowhere else to go. Natasha had been perfectly content to ignore how mopey he looked – after all, wasn't celebrating Thanksgiving akin to getting waterboarded for a dude who tried to stay away from carbs? – but then Bob flashed her a pointed glare like she owed Hangman something just because he'd dragged her to his family's ranch in Austin for The Fourth.

She didn't, of course, because Jake was so Rah Rah Rah about Texas that it wouldn't take much to get an invite to his hometown so he could wax poetic about Longhorns football and fried okra until the cows came home for tipping. But there was the small matter of Jake getting on top of a coffee table before the Summer Seresin Scavenger Hunt began and declaring to his entire extended family that he was "boo'd up" as if the thing that their relationship was missing up until that point was a heavy dose of mortification. Nat still hasn't forgiven Payback for expanding Hangman's musical horizons even though he's probably right that it's better than Jake donning a cowboy hat so he could make a Patsy Cline reference instead. For that alone, Natasha should've let him flounder in California while everyone else went back home, but rather than disappoint Bob and have to hear about it for the next half dozen training sessions, Natasha went against her self-preservation instincts and invited Jake to have turkey with her family in the suburbs of New Jersey.

She knew it was a bad idea the moment she asked and has only doubled down on that impression now when encountering the wild gleam in Jake's eyes as he looks around her childhood bedroom. Natasha's never been happier than at this moment that she took down the extremely embarrassing boy band posters from her walls the first time she came home from college. All that's left now is a cherry-picked altar of her accomplishments. There are honors society certificates on her walls and her diploma from Stanford, medals from swim meets and a gleaming golden soccer ball perched on top of the MVP trophy she got when their team won nationals after the favorites got disqualified on a technicality. Jake takes in the framed pictures spanning Natasha's life and photobooth strips with her friends taken at a mall kiosk when they cut class to go see Step Up. He looks mesmerized as he practically bounces on the balls of his feet while soaking up all these snippets of who she was before he met her.

The quiet gets to be too much so Nat finally relents and says, "You get one question."

Jake looks like Kevin McCallister let loose at Duncan's Toy Chest, unsure of what to do with all this newfound freedom as his eyes trail along from wall to wall before stopping at the picture of Natasha with her date at prom.

"Where's all your debate team stuff?" he finally asks.

Natasha grins. Sucker.

"I wasn't on the debate team."

"Wait a minute. You made it seem—"

"I'm just naturally gifted at arguing with you."

"Flag on play, Trace! I should get another question."

"Should've gone with a sure thing," she says with an unapologetic shrug. "I really thought you'd ask if I still had the outfit from my very brief stint as a cheerleader."

She can feel him grinning when Jake leans in, his breath hot against her ear as he asks with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, "Well, do you?"

Natasha makes a mental note to kill Bob when they get home.

#ask me things #i lied when i said five sentences #population of one on this island of extremely niche interests #top gun #hannix #*#please note that i am making a thinly veiled reference to yellowjackets any time i make a reference to high school soccer #fic

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rissarants · 5 months

Text

Farewell, My Favorite Fever Dream

Note: If you're only interested in my final show's recap, scroll down a bit. Obviously, spoiler warning. My Previous History with Sleep No More Before this past Saturday afternoon, it had been about a decade since I last checked into The McKittrick Hotel. What I thought would be my final visit was in October of 2013, my best friend and I attended another Sleep No More show that was promptly followed by Panic! At The Disco's album release party. It was an incredible evening, despite the "give me a vodka cranberry, this time with vodka" incident that resulted in a bartender gleefully sending me into a drunken spiral. It was my fourth show and I assumed it would be my last. After all, how many times could a person justify seeing the same show? (After perusing the Sleep No More subreddit and discord... apparently a lot. How the hell are you all affording this?!)

Content with my experiences and convinced I had seen all there was to see, I put that obsession behind me.... or so I thought.

The mysterious and cryptic world of Sleep No More lingered in the back of my head like a haunting melody that refused to fade. Occasionally I would reminisce about the blue-tinged forest maze, the smell of the hotel lobby, and recall my 1:1 with Hecate. I relished retelling my experiences to people who had never been to the show. During the peak of my obsession, I had recapped a couple of my visits here on Tumblr (Sleep No More and The Third Time's The Charm) and I would return long after this blog had grown dormant just to reread those posts. I had toyed with the idea of returning, but as I grew older and life became more expensive, so did the show. I couldn't justify dropping that amount of money on something I had seen four times already. Then came the closing announcement. Suddenly I found myself pulling up the site, going over current ticket prices, and wishing I could take that leap. But I was no longer the financially irresponsible 20-something without real responsibility. I'm in my thirties, a mother, and have things like preschool tuition to worry about.

After a casual conversation with my in-laws over Thanksgiving dinner, the topic of Sleep No More was brought up. Immediately I was gushing about how much I adored the show, my past experiences, and how I had never reached that elusive 6th floor. As a result, they ended up buying me two tickets as my gift for Christmas. They had sprung for the Oz's Guest tickets, so we were able to get priority entry, a table, and a complimentary coat check. It was an incredibly generous gift, and I was nearly moved to tears. I was finally going back. My Final Show Recap After an excruciating month of waiting and obsessing, the day had finally arrived. I was going with my husband who had never attended but heard my stories and was looking forward to seeing it for himself. I wanted him to go in mostly blind and only gave him the most basic of tips (e.g. if an actor offers their hand, take it. If you hear techno music, run towards it.) He understood that we would not be going on this adventure together, I refused to be one of those obnoxious couples who held hands the entire time. Half of the fun is going with someone, separating from them once you enter the hotel, and then talking about what you both experienced afterward. For myself, I had done a bit of research before this final show and was hoping to follow the loops of characters I hadn't paid attention to before. While I had this initial plan, I also promised myself that I would go with the natural flow of things. I had been warned about the aggressive crowds and didn't want to let anything like that spoil my final visit. We arrived early, were checked in swiftly, and given a pair of playing cards (aces, which meant we would be in the first group.) Before I knew it, "The Man Who Knew Too Much Prelude" was filling my ears as we navigated the pitch-black maze that acts like a portal to the Manderley bar. We had a table waiting for us, but since we had aces there was not enough time for a drink. Our group was called, and Steve and I were separated almost immediately. I ended up on the elevator and he was in another group that went up some stairs.

I was the first person off of the elevator and the doors shut quickly behind me. For a split second, I thought I may have been dumped out on the 6th floor, but unfortunately, it was the 5th floor. I spotted the familiar bathtubs and beds of the King James Sanitorium and began to wander. I weaved through the Birch Forest maze, which was every bit as eerie and confusing as I remembered. I saw Matron Lang hanging out in her wooden hut and watched her through the window for what felt like a long time. Eventually, I grew a bit bored and wandered down to Macbeth's bedroom.

I watched the scene where Lady Macbeth eventually convinces her husband to murder Duncan. It was at this point that I considered trying to follow Macbeth throughout the first loop and chased him to the canopy where a sleeping Duncan lay. I watched as Macbeth smothered him with a pillow, a long brutal scene where we had to stand there helplessly as Duncan fought back angrily, eventually weakening and giving up with a final twitch. Macbeth tried to wash his hands in a basin, only to realize that they were now covered in blood. I still can't believe that I somehow missed this pivotal moment in my previous shows. At this point, a sizeable crowd had gathered around the (quite handsome) actor who played Macbeth and I noticed a few aggressive women were shoving their way to the front. It was then that I decided to hang back with Duncan's dead body to see what would happen next. I believe it was Banquo who came in, found the body, and began ringing the bell. Malcolm and Macduff arrived, and they all expressed their grief, eventually bringing the body down to the crypt. Again, a pushy crowd had begun to gather and I craved space. I went up a flight or two and heard the unmistakable techno beats of the witches' second prophecy/rave/blood orgy thing. I immediately changed course and followed the beats to the long, dark, hallway topped with a neon sign that once read "Hello There" but now simply stated "Hell here." The rave scene is still as impactful as it was the first time I had seen it... complete sensory overload. I ended up in a spot where I was front and center, watching as Hecate whipped the other witches up into a frenzy. The beat dropped and the strobe lights kicked in, causing the scene to be presented in short flashes. The Boy Witch completely nude, on top of a table wearing an animal's head. Macbeth presented with a bloody infant. The guttural screams of the witches' power.

I stayed after the rave to witness the Sexy Witch do her exhausted, eerie dance behind the bar as Hecate watched. Afterward, Hecate and Agnes had a tense moment where the former gathered the latter's tears in a little glass vial.

It was at this point that I decided to follow Agnes back to her apartment, the Tailor made his creepy appearance through her closet, and the loop restarted. I tried sticking with Agnes for as long as I could, getting to see her dance with the Tailor, steal his money, and eventually make her way to the hotel lobby.

It was there that I was reunited with an old character I remembered fondly: the Porter. While I did not have a true 1:1 with him in my previous shows, he did give me the note that eventually led to my cherished Hecate 1:1. That was then followed by a frantic, yet fruitless attempt at finding her ring.

This time I hung back and observed as the Porter had his tea scene with Agnes, followed by a drunken dance as he cleaned up the hotel. I have to say that this actor was incredibly good, mixing a bit of rage, sadness, and silliness as he leaped around the room pulling sheets from lamps. After the Boy Witch arrived to taunt and then cruelly reject the Porter, one of the other white masks (audience members) was whisked away into the Porter's office for a 1:1. At this point, I admit that I was feeling a little confused about what to do next. I was approximately halfway through this final show and had an anxious feeling about wasting the precious moments I had left. I recalled reading how you could gain access to the 6th floor 1:1 by encountering a nurse on the 5th floor. I decided to check it out quickly, hoping that I would get lucky.

Instead, I ran into Nurse Shaw, who was doing an odd dance in the window between the bathtubs and the forest. I followed her through the woods and ran into Matron Lang who seemed transfixed by the Nurse. They both seemed to mirror each other's movements and the Matron started moving through the maze in an attempt to catch up to the Nurse. She was unsuccessful as the Nurse disappeared back through her window, and I decided to follow a slightly dejected Matron Lang back to her hut. She walked up the steps to the wooden hut and turned around, staring right into my eyes. It was at this moment that she extended her hand. I suddenly felt breathless as the sensation of butterflies tinged with fear filled my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized I would be experiencing a 1:1 at my final show. I slowly took her hand, and she pulled me up into the hut.

My 1:1 with Matron Lang She was silent as she shut the door behind me, followed by the window, and then turned to face me. She slowly removed my mask, all the while never breaking eye contact, and whispered something along the lines of "That's better." I tried to say thank you, but the words caught in my dry mouth, my tongue suddenly feeling foreign and useless.

She offered me a seat, went to her desk, and prepared a cup of tea. As she did so, she locked eyes with me in a small mirror. She was not smiling. I wanted to look away, but it was so unnerving that I felt like I had to hold her gaze in fear of seeming rude.

She handed me the cup of tea with a spoon and leaned forward expectantly. I didn't know what she wanted, so after a couple of awkward beats, she gently grabbed my hand to guide the spoon into the tea and then into her mouth. I fed her the tea about three times, slowly and trying not to let my shaking hand spill any liquid onto her face.

The entire time she stared at me. I'm sure she blinked at some points, but I swear it felt like her piercing eyes never moved.

After the tea, she quietly told me a story about a young child who was all alone. "Once upon a time there was a poor child with no mother and no father. Everything was dead, and there was nobody left in the whole world. Everything was dead. The boy went on search day and night and since there was no one left on earth he wanted to go up into the heavens. The moon looked at him so friendly! But when he finally got to the moon, the moon was a piece of rotten wood. And then he went to the sun, and when he got there, the sun was a wilted sunflower. And when he went to the stars they were little golden flies stuck up there like the shrike sticks them on the blackthorn. And when he wanted to go back to earth, the earth was an overturned piss pot. And he was all alone. And he sat down and he cried, and he is still there to this day, all alone." (Apparently, this is from Büchner’s Woyzeck. I had to look it up when I got home.)

As she whispered this story, her eyes began to fill with tears, prompting mine to do the same. She held my palm, tracing the lines and occasionally squeezing my hand. She then leaned far back in her chair, pulling my hand with her so I had to lean forward. Without warning, she flung forward, grabbed my shoulders as I gasped, and whispered "It'll have blood they say, blood will have blood." She got up, put my mask on, and showed me the door. As I left, she shut the door behind her, and I was back in the woods with other white masks who were staring at me intently. I walked past them as I tried to regulate my breathing and figure out what to do next. After that adrenaline rush, the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. I bounced between characters as the crowds grew larger and more unruly. I saw the angry Taxidermist searching for something, finally caught the ballroom party, and helped another white mask catch pregnant Lady Macduff when she passed out. I saw the Bald Witch's transformation, the rave one final time, and then followed the Sexy Witch to the apothecary.

She knelt down, dress still hanging off of her with her chest exposed. She washed the blood off of her skin and hair in a small bowl, then stood and handed me a towel. I helped towel her off slowly, she then fixed her dress and grabbed me close to whisper "Blood will have blood" in my ear.

I followed her out to the last banquet and had a front-row spot for the finale. I'll never be able to properly describe how that scene makes me feel. The slow-motion acting, the allusion to 'The Last Supper", Macbeth's frantic "NO", followed by the snap of the noose. Absolutely chilling.

The wood groaned under the weight of the swinging body, with the creaking eventually drowned out by "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" by Glenn Miller. We were all herded out of the hotel in a haze, greeted by a loud jazz band playing old-timey renditions of current popular songs. It's a jarring switch of moods, which only seemed to exacerbate my post-show disorientation.

The 6th floor still eludes me.

Is that all there is?

#sleep no more #the mckittrick hotel #punchdrunk #sleep no more nyc #immersive theatre #macbeth

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trashworldblog · 11 months

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hey guys im gonna write about lore now because im a little drunk and i have Big Feelings and Ideas about the puppet show. LETS GOO!!

ok so some background: we know the substitute [the hologram professor] was defenestrated by ryan at the end of last season. we also know that defenestration doesnt ALWAYS mean that the person dies. (also can a hologram die? sources say probably not. i mean he can kick and bite but just because he can manipulate matter doesnt mean he can die per say. he can probably recharge.)

we ALSO know that the power box and victory algorithm are outside of watcher hq in the dumpster. this was revealed in 6x01 and DEFINITELY not a mistake. im like 95% sure this plays into what happens next.

so whats my theory???

i do think this season is gonna be pretty chill lore wise. i think after 4 and 5 we deserve this little victory lap and shane is gonna give it to us. im almost positive there wont be any post show lore bits (except for MAYBE the season finale) there might be more breadcrumbs along the way though! and i will be looking out for them

when we DO get into lore times, i think the most likely things to happen is something that threatens both the professor and beef boy or one of them. i think we explored alot of the internal struggles with their friendship and i think their friendship is solid and earned now. (and it feels repetitive to make them not be friends again). ive kinda been waiting for a team up, and im very excited for this to happen!!

so, my #1 theory is its probably gonna be the substitute coming back to get his revenge. probably with a little help to. top suspects are 1) genie, 2) the devil, 3) asmodeus? and 4) secret fourth thing (a character we dont know about yet) i am curious about what the substitute is gonna do with the victory algorithm. in the lore scene where hes watching the machine count, it really does seem to just be a machine that counts points like jokes and puns along with correct answers, and all it does is award a ticket for the winner. i dont see how that can be manipulated into being helpful for him.

we also gotta get those little puppets out of the wondreum arena!!! and the professor doesnt seem to know that they're stuck in there!!!! i think that is also gonna play a role at some point, but i can't quite place where it falls yet. maybe the substitute will mention it and the professor will be like ??? WHAT??? maybe that's first on the professor's priority list??? maybe they'll get them back before the substitute comes back? idk yet. but its definitely a factor and something to keep in mind. i remember the substitute saying that god said that they could send one representative to earth to figure the whole mess out anf they sent the substitute, im just curious how any puppet was supposed to do anything about that??? are they supposed to bring their now unanimated objects to the wondrium arena for the puppet souls to inhabit??? idk but im excited to see how this part gets resolved cus i wanna see the little guys get outta there.

#beth's lore dumps #puppet history #watcher

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 2 years

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JJ Maybank Headcanons:

A/N: I know I said I was gonna write more but I’ve barely had time or energy to even clean my house lately soooo. Anyway, I’m literally writing these on my lunch break. I may write some for the other pogues too idk yet it depends on how many I can come up with for them. I just have a good bit for JJ bc I think about him a lot lmao. Without further ado.

P.S. This has been sitting in my drafts for like a week awaiting the moment that I decide I'm happy with it lol. So here it is finally.

Random Headcanons:

He sleeps in starfish pose. Like you cannot tell me that this dude can’t or won’t take up an entire bed by himself.

We all know his motto, “Stupid things have good outcomes all the time,” but this dude's number one signature catchphrase has to be “Full Send!” followed closely by “YOLO Bitches!”

This may just be biased bc of Uncharted and the Royal Merchant ordeal but I can definitely see JJ pretending to be a pirate who’s on a massive treasure-hunting expedition when he was a little kid.

JJ’s hidden talent? Rapping. His ADHD and quick mind help him come up with lyrics quickly and even if they don’t always make sense to others they make sense to him 90% of the time.

JJ is either a fighting drunk or a goofy drunk. It’s either “let’s throw some hands” or “I’ma dance on that table brb” there is no in-between.

As for when he’s high, I think JJ is one of those people that just comes up with absolute nonsense that kinda makes sense. He has really deep thoughts about random shit and barely shuts up.

He does a lil dancey dance. I can see him just kinda standing in line, standing amongst the Pogues or they're all sitting around doing nothing and he gets bored so he dances along to whatever song is playing in his head. It often distracts the Pogues and cracks them up.

JJ is a speed demon no ifs ands or buts about it. This makes him a pro at playing spot the cop because while he enjoys the rush, he does not enjoy the idea of getting a ticket.

Somehow, Kie once convinced him to let her put his hair in tiny pigtails. He may or may not have been drunk.

You know that cute little thing where one person sticks out their hand and another rests their chin in it? So, as long as it's someone he trusts i.e. the Pogues or a significant other, they can stick their hand out and catch his attention and he will immediately put his chin in it even if he has to hurdle over tables in his mad dash from across the room.

I saw someone headcanon, I’m sorry but I can’t remember who, that JJ can play drums. I 100% agree. I can see him just banging around on them to let out some frustration one day and Kie convinced him to actually learn how to play them. Let me tell you, it was not easy at all bc JJ’s attention span didn’t wanna hold out for it but eventually he got the hang of it.

Unfortunately, at the insistence of the Pogues, JJ is no longer allowed to light fireworks anymore after having almost caught not only the dock but also The Chateau on fire one Fourth of July.

Dating Him Headcanons:

JJ is always attached to his love in some way, shape, or form. It could just be a simple shoulder-to-shoulder thing or he could be practically backpacked on you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his chin resting on your head or in the crook of your neck, and him leaning against your back.

JJ doesn't have a lot of money but what he does have is the desire to shower you with gifts so what does he do? He makes things for you or steals them but that's not the point. Your wrists, hands, and neck are probably always adorned in loads of bracelets, rings, and necklaces that he made for you. They may not look like much to other people but to you, they mean the world and you would never let anything happen to them.

JJ is a huge fan of words of affirmation. Remind him often that you love him and are very proud of him, even sprinkle in a few compliments.

That being said, as you can probably tell from the first headcanon of this section, his favorite form of showing love is physical touch. He loves giving it and receiving it.

JJ loves to make you laugh. He'll pull out the cheesiest pick-up lines and corniest dad jokes if it means he gets even a giggle out of you.

So, like I said previously, JJ takes up the entire bed. I also feel like you'll have to fight him for the blankets. You both may start the night out cuddled up all cute and shit but by the time you both wake up, he's spread out as much as possible leaving you to either tuck into his side or flat out lay on top of him.

JJ never says no if you ask for a piggyback ride. Sometimes if he thinks you’re getting tired he’ll just stop in front of you and squat down motioning for you to hop on.

I think a lot of people think that if JJ were ever jealous he would throw hands or super cockily just butt into the conversation and distract you but I personally think he’s a mean-mugging jealous. Like, say you’re having a polite, innocent conversation with some Touron but JJ gets jealous. I think he’d simply walk up behind you and give the person an “if looks could kill” glare. Soon enough the Touron gets the hint and dips. I don’t think JJ would want to fight in front of you if he could help it even if every bone in his body is screaming to throw hands. He doesn’t want to scare you.

Masterlist

More JJ Maybank Imagines

#jj maybank #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #obx #obx headcanon #obx headcanons #outer banks #outer banks headcanon #outer banks headcanons

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letsrilakkusu-blog · 1 year

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OnlyOneOf appreciation + concert experience

My love for OnlyOneOf is new but immense! I only discovered them recently but fell into them so fast and so hard that I decided to travel out of state to attend the last stop of their Grand America Tour!

A little over a month ago, my YouTube recommendations included a music video for "because" by Rie. As a BL enthusiast, I clicked because I saw two guys kissing in the thumbnail LOL, but I was pleasantly surprised by how good both the song and the video were. When I looked into it more, I found out that Rie is a member of OnlyOneOf, and that he was playing a couple in the MV with fellow member Junji! I also learned that "because" is the fourth in a series of six solo songs released by the group as part of their undergrOund idOl project, which explores themes of love and acceptance in support of the pride movement. The songs are all fantastic, each a different style to reflect their individuality, and the MVs, which feature the members paired off as couples, are beautifully shot and feel very intimate without fetishizing. I was so impressed with their music and the messages they were sending that I felt the need to look into them further.

In the comments on their solo videos, the song I saw mentioned most was libidO. I checked out the MV, then the "Guilty Pleasure" choreography video, and then a bunch of live performances. I was shooketh, it was soooooo sensual. I read that it received a lot of hate in Korea for being "controversial", but the boys stood by it and explained that the song is about a young man experiencing first love and exploring his sexuality, eventually deciding to leave it to instinct and primal desire aka libido. The MV and choreography express this concept perfectly, and honestly, it's so tastefully done in a way that is sexy, but not egregiously so, that I see no room for complaints.

I was hooked enough to do a deep dive into the rest of their discography where I found countless other songs, both title tracks and b-sides, that I loved. I'm not sure how to describe their sound in technical terms, but it's different and more experimental than most K-pop out there. They have a lot of songs that are mid-tempo, smooth, and sexy, and the way they process their vocals gives them this kind of ethereal, breathy effect. They have a very distinct sound and regardless of whether the song is an upbeat banger like seOul drift, a mid-tempo bop like gaslighting, or a slower, sentimental track like OnlyOneOf yOu, you can tell it's them. It's pretty niche, which unfortunately means less general public appeal and popularity, but I appreciate that they stay true to it and hope that one day it catches on. Either way, I was sold.

Of course, just because I like a group's music doesn't mean I go all out and commit myself as a fan. But I felt compelled to check out OOO's other content because I was curious about the group dynamics, seeing as how they seemed very comfortable acting as couples for their solo songs, libidO, and skinz. I'm sure this is true with most groups, but they are completely endearing crackheads! They are fun and silly, have great chemistry with each other (they are basically shipping themselves), and they show off their crazy abs on camera a LOT lol. I got sucked into them real quick.

One week later, I was pretty much a newborn lyOn club, and I was aware that they were touring in the US at that time. I still have huge regrets of not being able to see Seventeen in concert last year because I also found them while they were in the middle of their US tour, so I didn't want to experience the same thing with OOO and decided to check whether there were still tickets for any shows available. I live in Hawaii so it's not like I can just hop around the continent to see them, and I was in the middle of my busy season at work, so I had a lot of limiting factors. However, I saw that there were still general admission tickets for their show in LA, which was after my big work deadline. After finding a pretty good deal on airfare, I bit the bullet and bought concert tickets for me and my husband (bless him). YOLO, am I right??

In the few weeks before the the concert, I got more and more hyped and as I continued to fall even deeper into the lyOn den, I started to get a little greedy. I really wanted snapshot tickets for my two biases Nine and Yoojung. I was scouring Reddit and twitter in search of anyone selling, to no avail. But it's okay because two days before the concert, I was able to snag a VIP ticket from a kind Reddit user who was selling theirs because they could no longer attend the show. So even though I couldn't have individual polaroids with my favorites, I would be able to do a hi-touch with all of the members, plus a group photo! Ahhh!

04-30-2023 - GRAND AMERICA TOUR LOS ANGELES

The LA show was held at the Avalon Hollywood, a nightclub which doubles as a concert venue. We arrived at the venue and started lining up for VIP at around 4:15. Once they started letting VIP into the venue, my husband (again, bless this extremely supportive man) went to go stand in the general admission line while I went on ahead. I'm pretty shy and everyone around me was with another friend, so I didn't really talk to anyone while waiting. But once we got let into the room where the hi-touch and group photo were happening, the girls in front of me started freaking out so naturally I freaked out with them hehe. It was comforting because it was the first time doing hi-touch for all of us.

The hi-touch/group photo happened so fast, I wish I had a little more time to soak it in. I high-fived each member and definitely looked at them while I was doing it, but the only one who I can clearly remember now is Yoojung. The man is so beautiful that he dazzled me into remembering only his face, even over my number one bias Nine! xD For the group photo, I stood behind Junji and Yoojung and was probably cheesing so hard, I hope I come out looking okay in the photo lol. And that was it! But even in such a short time, I could sense the members' kindness and sincerity. They are seated for the group photo, but they stand up for the hi-touch and thank each fan as they go by. And then after the photo is taken and we're exiting, they stand up again and turn around to greet us on our way out. I was starstruck. Ugh, next time maybe I'll splurge for VVIP so I can get a few more seconds with each member~

The venue was standing only, so VIP got to enter after VVIP was all settled in. I'm a shortie, and I had done my research prior so there was a second-floor balcony that I was aiming for. Luckily, it was still open when I got in so I made a dash for it and secured a spot against the balcony railing, with an unobstructed view of the stage below. It was perfect for me and since the venue is small, I still felt so close. My husband joined me once general admission was let in and to his joy, there were couches behind us that he could rest on lol.

The concert itself was absolutely amazing! The boys, who I'm sure were exhausted as this was the last of an 18-stop tour over the course of one month, brought 110% of their energy to every performance. Before seeing them live, I was thinking that maybe some of their choreography just looks cool because of good camerawork, but I was wrong, they really are that cool. Moments I can't believe I saw in real life:

The entirety of skinz, especially Yoojung and Mill's body rolls, and the KB/Yoojung moment in the second verse

The chest popping in gaslighting

THAT part by Yoojung in the final chorus of chrOme hearts

Crazy chemistry between Junji and Rie during be mine

Iconic libidO crotch grabbing by Nine

KB destroying his shirt during a sOng Of ice&fire

Rie saying "OMG pleeeease everyone, jump!!!" for angel, and everyone really jumping!

I had also seen someone on Reddit who was disappointed after attending OOO's first show because they felt they weren't singing live (I'm thinking it was a sound mixing issue rather than the members actually not singing), but for this concert I could definitely hear them over the backtrack and they were so good! During one of the breaks, they took requests to sing parts of songs that they wouldn't be performing, and this was another testament to how well they can sing. I was screaming because I got to hear a bit of byredO live.

Just as they gave their full energy for their songs, they did the same for their ments in between. They are so personable, sweet, and funny, and full of fan service! They also tried their best to speak in English when they could, which was extra endearing. And I may be delulu but they definitely waved in my general direction of the balcony a few times, so I excitedly waved back! At the end when they took the group photo with the audience, they accepted pride flags from fans and set it in front of them or draped it over their shoulders. Stan these supportive, inclusive kings. *Flag not pictured below because Studio Pav doesn't have Pride :\

The very last song was OnlyOneOf yOu and it was magical hearing them sing this beautiful number while the crowd held up their phone flashlights and swayed them to the beat. When they finally left the stage, I was overwhelmed with happiness, wishing the concert could go on for like three hours more, and a certfied lyOn. I'm totally rooting for OOO's success and hope they come back to America again someday soon!

#onlyoneof #ooo grand america tour #ooo kb #ooo rie #ooo yoojung #ooo junji #ooo mill #ooo nine

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george-weasleys-girl · 1 year

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Chapter 25 - The Twelve Days of Christmas

Warnings: one vague allusion to sex

Summary: After nearly five months apart, George surprises Y/N with twelve days of Christmas romance, pure fluff

Start Here:

~•~

On the First Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

One hearty breakfast in bed

George knew Y/N'd be exhausted when she arrived. Determined to let her sleep in, he spent the morning threatening to hex anyone who woke her up. She slept in a little longer than expected, and breakfast became brunch. It didn’t matter, though. Her bright eyes and surprised smile made it well worth the wait.

~•~

On the Second Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Two pairs of warm, fuzzy socks

George had been prepping for months. He had Ginny teach him how to knit and managed to make, not one but two pairs of socks for Y/N. "Oh Georgie! These are perfect!" She said as she slipped a pair on before giving him a hug that nearly bowled him over.

~•~

On the Third Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Three chocolate treats

On his last trip to Hogsmede, George picked up her favorite chocolates from Honeydukes. Y/N did the Snoopy Dance. He had no idea what that meant, but it was adorable. Then, grinning wide, he watched her eat them all in the span of about two seconds.

~•~

On the Fourth Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Four favorite movies

A couple of months earlier, Arthur had managed to get Sirius a TV. George took full advantage of it by sequestering the living room that evening for a movie marathon with four of Y/N's favorite holiday movies complete with hot cocoa, popcorn, and cookies. They fell asleep cuddling on the sofa about halfway through the third movie.

~•~

On the Fifth Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Five love poems

Not only had George composed five love poems ranging from silly to romantic, but he acted them out, sang them, and one was conveyed solely through interpretive dance. Y/N went from laughing to crying happy tears to laughing again.

~•~

On the Sixth Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Six happy memories

George put together a collage of six of their favorite photos. He'd charmed the frame to change periodically with little quotes signifying each special moment. Y/N was rendered speechless, giving him a long, passionate kiss instead.

"Ew! Get a room!" Fred joked as he walked by. So, they did.

~•~

On the Seventh Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Matching silver swans charms

George still had a bit of money left over from buying their lockets. He was glad he'd held onto it.

"Swans, they're the seventh gift in the song," he'd explained, holding out the tiny charms. "They also mate for life. I thought we could wear them next to our lockets."

For the seventh day in a row, Y/N found herself wiping away happy tears. "You're making it very, very difficult for me to go back to the States."

George winked. "Good."

~•~

On the Eighth Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

A full night of pampering

The evening began with a chamomile milk bath with rose petals, surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of candles. Then George attempted to give her a full massage on the rose petal covered bed, but things didn't quite go as planned. Y/N was still a little damp when she lay down, causing the petals to bleed their lovely red color. It ended up looking like a crime scene rather than a romantic interlude, sending both of them into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

On the Ninth Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Nine ladies dancing

"You brought a fancy dress, yeah?" George asked.

"Of course."

"Good, you'll need it tonight."

For the second time, they snuck out of the house. Except this time, they apparated to a theatre where he surprised her with tickets to see The Nutcracker. He could only afford nosebleed seats, but Y/N didn't care. She showered him with kisses all the same.

George, though, made a silent promise that when the joke shop became a success, which he was confident it would, he'd bring her back with tickets for the best seats in the house.

On the Tenth Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Ten romantic songs

They'd planned on making a mixtape before she left last summer but never got around to it with everything else going on. George decided to remedy that, spending a couple of weeks curating the perfect collection to encapsulate their relationship.

He was on top of the world when Y/N told him he was the best boyfriend ever.

~•~

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

Late night waltzing in the living room

At 11pm, once everyone had retired for the night, George led Y/N downstairs to the living room. With nothing but the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree illuminating the room, they danced and talked and laughed until the wee hours of the morning.

~•~

On the Twelveth Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me...

12,000 kisses

Every time Y/N turned around, George was standing there, grinning like a fool and holding up a sprig of mistletoe.

"Oh look, love, it's mistletoe!" He'd say innocently. "You know what that means."

"Gee, I wonder how that got there," she'd say with a giggle.

"Hey, we gotta stock up for lean times," he told her with a wink before pulling her in for one of many kisses that day.

@milivanili99 @slytherclaw1978 @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ladylizzieofdarbyshire

~•~

Next Chapter:

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader

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jeanbie · 2 years

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ACTS OF LOVE ★ masterlist.

pairing: attack on titan characters x reader

genre: platonic, bffs au | wc: 7.4k

⏤ As long as you’ve got a good group of friends, anything is possible. Thankfully, you’ve got the best group you could ever ask for.

(01) taking pics of ur friends without them asking u to bc they looked so pretty in that exact moment

“Well, at least the views not so bad. Honestly, I thought it would be a lot worse.”

Beside you, at the top of the bleachers that surround the large football pitch below, Eren huffs and kicks his feet up onto the empty row in front of him. It would be easy to just move rows, considering the game’s due to start in ten minutes time, and there’s plenty of empty seats closer. But, he’s bought these seats, and by the looks of things, Jean and Connie are already comfortable where they are, sharing a big bag of sticky popcorn between them. Casting a look to the right, you notice that Historia and Sasha are making their way up, dressed in jerseys and caps, and you suddenly feel very out of place.

“Tell me why I came again?” you ask, not looking away from the pitch below. The grass is bright green, and every wandering body down on the pitch is just a small speck.

“Because,” Eren starts, unlocking his phone and checking his messages. You snoop- one missed text from Mikasa and two off his Mom, which makes you smile. Eren’s always been a Mommy’s boy. “You love me, and you know that I worked my ass off for two whole months saving up for these tickets. And, since Armin’s sick and couldn’t come, you decided to be a good friend and take his place.”

With a frown, you look back towards Eren. “I don’t know shit about football.”

“Cheer when we do,” Eren suggests honestly.

Jean perks up, patting your arm roughly. “Do what I do, and cheer for the team with the prettier uniform.”

“Don’t!” Eren hisses, grabbing you back. “The other team have a prettier uniform, but if you cheer for them on this side of the stadium, you’re going to get mobbed. Hey, Jean, don’t tell her that, she doesn’t know any better.”

“Just football,” Jean shrugs.

“Just football…” Eren scoffs and shrinks back down in his seat.

You laugh quietly, petting Eren’s leg with faux sympathy. As you move your body to glance around the stadium, strangely anticipating the start of the match, a flash out the corner of your eye makes you look over in Connie’s general direction. Connie holds his phone up, taking a photo, and then smiles as he checks it on the screen.

“Connie Springer, delete it now!” you gape, realising what he’s done. “Oh my God, I bet I look so ugly…you could have warned me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs sheepishly. He then shows you the screen, “you looked pretty! And it’s your first live match ever, we had to document it. Jean, look. Wow…I’m sending this to Armin for proof that you’re having fun.”

“What if I’m not having fun?” you ask.

He glances up, “you are.”

(02) randomly giving tiny gifts (a comic book that ur friend likes, a heart-shaped piece of paper with a sweet message on it)

“Can anybody here share the exact chemistry behind Elephant Toothpaste?”

Chemistry is the absolute bane of your life. It’s only been a few weeks, and you’re already regretting taking additional classes in it. Technically, it was Reiner’s fault you were here in the first place. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was too much of a pussy to enrol into classes alone and therefore had guilted you into taking advanced chemistry with him, then you wouldn’t be here. You sigh for the fourth time in the last ten minutes and shove your chin into the palm of your hand. The clock above Professor Han’s head seems to be still, taunting you with zero movements.

Can boredom kill you? You wonder about that, letting your mind wander as Professor Han continues to quiz the front two rows on the exact chemical formula of the affectionately named Elephant Toothpaste. You’re so close to finding the answer when you feel somebody poking your upper arm. The finger that pokes belongs to Reiner, and you angle your head to look at him with a questioning glare.

Reiner smiles. Like you, he rolled out of bed this morning and tried his best to look semi-presentable; if you counted borderline pajama wear and a serious case of bed-head to be presentable and acceptable for a 9am lecture. Reiner says nothing, just smiles and pushes something towards you with two fingers. The sound of the paper sliding towards you brings your gaze down, and as you look away to stare at it, he returns his attention to Professor Han. Bare in mind, his notebook is empty, save doodles of someone on the front row, occasionally losing focus and staring around the room for long periods of time.

What Reiner has pushed before you is a small little piece of paper, smoothly cut into a heart shape. Now the sound of scissors makes sense… It’s just scrap paper from the back of his notebook, decorated with tiny stars and circles, a pathetic hand drawn galaxy on the front like a book cover. You slowly pick it up, more interested in this than the lecture. You turn it over curiously, your heart thumping endearingly and a smile picking up on your face as you read what he's written on the back.

you and me have some serious chemistry. love u

Reiner refuses to make eye contact again. He’ll say something along the lines of, “you’re taking it too seriously” when you’ll no doubt ask him about it later, but really, Reiner’s just a softie, with the sudden need to tell his friends that he loves them. You’re not complaining.

(03) handwritten letters with cute stickers

Something’s been left in your shared kitchen, something with your name on it and closed in an envelope with a small Gudetama sticker. You set your cup of tea to the side, sliding up onto a stool near the breakfast bar to read it. The front is in a bold font, in handwriting you don’t really recognise. Careful of the time and effort put into the appearance, you carefully open the envelope and take out the contents.

Y/N Good morning. I hope you slept okay - when I came by last night after judo to see Annie, you were actually passed out on the couch in the common room so I piggy backed you up to your room. Hehe, your room is so dirty though…I think I definitely tripped over a plug that connected your fairylights, so sorry if that doesn’t work anymore. Anyway. I left this morning and left you some nice tea and some tablets (Annie said that I should put them in your bathroom, so I literally just left them on your sink). I know you haven’t been having a fun time with midterms and you need to take care of yourself! If you get too sick and can’t do anything, then how will we eat?? You’re our uni mom!!! We need to live too!!!!! D: I also rented out Harry Potter for later. I know you get really sad and lonely when you’re stressed out, and so we can watch it together when I’m home after my shift at work :D Hehe, feel better <3 Just remember that your bestie loves you!!! Drink tea and stay warm :) Lots of love, Armin :D

The paper is signed with Armin’s messy handwriting, like he ran out of time as he was writing it. The page is littered with tiny Gudetama stickers and the sight of it makes you smile. Along with other little notes people have left for you over the last few months, this one earns a spot on your cork board above your desk.

(04) remembering what ur friend likes or dislikes

You were so late.

Almost getting run over by a bus in the process, you sprint across the small road that separates your flat and the University central campus, missing a deep puddle as you step up off the road and onto the pavement. It pours, your hair soaked and makeup no doubt running and staining your cheeks. Holy fuck, you were so late.

Every Friday, without fail, Flat 6 (aka the large flat you share with your best friends) host an annual movie night, inviting literally all of your extended friendship group which definitely is not allowed, but who cares? You noticed Ymir’s car pulled up in the car park next door and curse again, knowing you’re the last one to arrive to a movie night you’re technically hosting.

You rush up the stairs, since the elevator is still down for maintenance, and burst into the flat with an announcing groan. From somewhere in the living room, Sasha looks up with happy surprise and jumps up off the couch, approaching the hall.

“Y/N! You made it.”

You wince, smiling as you hang up your coat to drip dry on the mat near the door. “Yep. I made it. To my own movie night. That I’m technically helping host.”

“No sweat,” Sasha shrugs. “It’s okay. Here, I’ll dump your bag in the closet. Get changed, I think they're still preparing snacks, anyway.. Annie was in the kitchen a minute ago.”

“Okay. Thanks, Sash.”

She gushes, smiling and raising her shoulders cutely. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Sasha swiftly takes your bag from your clutches, faking the weight with the droop of her knees just to hear you laugh, and then she turns to shuffle down the hall to quite literally toss it into the shared storage closet. You’re not too worried; on days like today, in which you have one 1 hour seminar to attend at 5pm and nothing else, there’s nothing inside your bag worthy of being broken by Sasha throwing it to the ground. As she does this, you shudder out of your shoes and make your way to your bedroom, to change into something warm and comfortable for the movie.

The sound of laughter makes you hurry to change, one leg out of your damp and cold jeans whilst simultaneously fishing for some old jogging bottoms out of your bottom draw, a jumper from Annie that she thought she lost left for you to grab on your bed. What she doesn’t know and will find out in five minutes won’t hurt her. (Annie also doesn’t care, because she’s a whipped best friend who lets you do what you want, including steal clothes she actually needs and can’t really afford to replace. Oh well, sharing is caring!).

Your hair is still soaked, and you move towards the single bathroom squeezed between two bedrooms to ring it out in the sink. Once you’re done, and your hair is thrown up into a scrunchie-decorated pony, you pace back towards the kitchen where, rightly so, Annie stands with her back facing you, filling up a glass with Pepsi.

“I thought we threw that shit out,” you announce as you walk in. “You know this flat is Team Coca Cola, those are the rules.”

Annie sighs, not looking up. “Yeah, I know, but Erwin is a monster.”

“He’s so annoying…why can’t he just admit that Coke is better?” you sigh, moving towards Annie to see the small bowls of snacks she has ready to be taken into the living room. It’s full in there, people stuffed onto the sofas and the floor where a bed of blankets lies like a mattress.

Annie's outdone herself; the bowls are neatly organised by colour and ingredient, and you smile. Annie was a lot of things, one of them a secret perfectionist. Even when it concerned bowls of snacks. God, you love to love her.

“Erwin’s a man of unpopular opinions, I mean, he really thinks the live action of The Lion King is good, like, who actually thinks that?” Annie rants, and then she glances to the side towards you, is silent for a moment, and then asks, “is that my jumper?”

You look down at it with a smile. “Yep. It’s comfy.”

Annie hums, like she’s bored. “Whatever, looks better on you than it did on me. Who the fuck lied to me and told me dark green was my colour…?”

“Every colour is your colour,” you say, patting her back and reaching for the bowls. “Should I take these in?”

Annie then nods, humming again. “Yeah. Yellow bowl is for you, by the way.”

You look to it. “And why is that?”

“Cause I know you don’t like the barbecue flavour chips that are in the red bowl, but everyone else does, so I went out and got you the salty ones. Oh, and there’s a bar of Galaxy in the fridge. Don’t tell Reiner, cause he’ll get pissy about how I didn’t get him something.”

As Annie tells you this, your heart flutters. You had told her that when you first met, after she offered you some of her chips noticing you were the only person not eating.

“You remembered that?” you wonder, and Annie looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“I’m a good friend,” she states, as though it were obvious. “Don’t get it twisted, though. I only did it because I don’t want to hear you complaining about it all night.”

You’re sure that’s a lie, but if it makes her feel better, you’ll accept it. You’ll also ignore the embarrassed tinge of red on her cheeks.

(05) inside jokes

[15:16PM] eren: alright fuckers 🔪😡 [15:16PM] eren: who left the kitchen window open all damn night [15:17PM] eren: there’s three spiders in the sink and it rained so the work surface is all wet [15:17PM] eren: [1 Image Attached] not happy rn [15:23PM] ymir: i dont even live with you why are you asking the gc this [15:24PM] eren: levi has the flat gc muted and idk how else to yell at him [15:28PM] y/n: blame me,,,,i have failed u,,,,,,,im sowwy [15:29PM] eren: hehe its ok ❣️💘💕💓 i’ll clean it up 🥰 [15:32PM] jean: wtf...she doesnt even live with us [15:39PM] connie: YALL LMAOODIUGJFKDSLJ [15:39PM] connie: guess what TF just happened in my maths class [15:41PM] connie: i forgot that on one of my assignments me and y/n had drawn a camel in the library on the back and he saw and asked me 2 stay behind after class so he could have stern words with me or smthn…..anyway so i go to the front of the class at the end and he’s like “mr springer what the hell is this camel doing here” [15:42PM] connie: and i said sir thats not a camel [15:42PM] connie: thats my WIFE [15:43PM] y/n: HA HA HA… [15:45PM] jean: STOP for fucks sake [15:47PM] eren: THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU’VE MADE THIS REFERENCE AND I DONT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS [15:48PM] annie: i hate this gc

(06) long phone calls

[Incoming Facetime Call From: Ymir ]

“Hey.”

“Hey. Y/N, are you sitting down because I have some major tea on Thomas and Mina and I’m not supposed to be saying anything and it’s killing me.”

“Oh shit.” Audio shuffles. “I’m lying down now, bitch. Tell me everything.”

“Okay. So…”

[Five Hours Later]

“I’m still in shock about Mina and Thomas.”

“Me too. What’s Mina gonna do, lie and say she had heat rash on her titties?”

“Hopefully she doesn’t get them out for people to see.”

“Literally. God, I hate how our life has resorted to class gossip. Are we those people?”

“Yup. Two students bitching about group project partners at…like …midnight?”

“Oh, shit, it’s midnight already??”

(07) facetiming while ur both doing something else (study dates like that are on another level of intimacy)

Bertholdt’s had the same cold for about two weeks now, and nobody knows what the hell’s up with it. He walks around his flat, according to Jean, wrapped up in a blanket and surrounded by a necklace of matted tissues. To be honest, it’s not as bad as he’s making it out to be, but he’s a guy, and so anything that involves a slight stomach pain and a blocked nose instantly translates to man flu, which is almost as bad as the plague.

That being said, Bertholdt’s set himself under “house arrest” and is therefore glued to his bed or desk chair, still managing to move his sore and aching joints to write a few words on his lab report. With the first round of finals creeping up, Bertholdt actually wants to go to the library, but, man, what with his man flu and everything, he just can’t seem to do it.

On the other hand, he has you to set the mood for him. After snagging a corner table in the library near the big windows, you make a barrier out of your bag and books to watch the sunset, Mikasa opposite using minimal space with her laptop and headphones, watching a documentary she’ll need to cite for her essay. Eren naps next to you, having exhausted himself from his shift last night that ran into the early hours and Historia secretly paints her nails, blowing them dry as she takes a break from writing.

Once you’re settled and comfortable, you reluctantly peel away the slice of tape covering your webcam (because Black Mirror has forever scared you into thinking 4Chan are watching you and will hold your endless hours of Games2Girls dot com against you) and open up Facetime, ringing Bertholdt who waits patiently back home.

After a few rings, Bertholdt’s bright and tired face pops up on the screen and you both silently wave. He has his mic muted, but yours is on, allowing the ambience of the library trick him into believing he’s actually there. It’s not quite like an ordinary study date, but for now, it’ll do. He opens his textbook and starts to work, comfortable and happy now that he’s listening to his friends discuss work, like he’s there. He smiles, occasionally glancing up to see your face working or Eren unintentionally leaning into frame. It’s comforting. He works well.

(08) cooking something for ur friend

“Merry Christmas, Reiner. Oh, wait, I have something for you.”

Reiner is hosting a Christmas party this year, in the apartment he shares with some of the other people in your group. His flat is lit up with lights, draining the electricity, the tree sparkling like diamonds in the front living room that looks out onto the city. The sound of Michael Bublé sings out festively and Reiner leads you through to the kitchen, out of the loud madness of the party that’s getting into full swing. In one hand, you have a big bag of presents that both Annie and Sasha kindly left for you to haul all by yourself to Reiner’s flat, and in the other, you balance a box across your arm, the corner sharp on your inner elbow.

“Cool. Your gift is under the tree,” Reiner says.

“Oh, yeah. No, this is an early gift.”

“Just for me?” he asks.

You set down the box. “Well, you can share if you love us all a lot. But, it’s for you.”

Reiner wastes no time in opening the box, a smile widening across his face as he reviews the contents. The box is stuffed full with cookies, baked big and crumbly for his tasty pleasures. They’re decorated too, because you love him so much and you know he liked them last year.

“Last year you ate nearly all of my batch, so I just decided to make you some of your own this year,” you tell him casually. It’s really no big deal, but Reiner feels like he might actually cry because the thought is so sweet. You notice this, “Ew, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, I’m touched!” he exclaims. Reiner turns on his spot and wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you in for a hug. With your arms wrapped around his torso, Reiner smiles with a thrilled sound and kisses the crown of your head. “Thanks, Y/N, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

(09) sending texts when u randomly think abt them

[11:15AM] historia: i stopped by at waterstones today and found a cards against humanity add on pack that was harry potter themed and i thought of u [11:15AM] historia: i bought it for u btw 😊

(10) listening without judging

When the door slams shut, you know that something’s wrong.

Having opted for sitting in the natural light of the common room to finish your lab report, the sound of the door echoes loudly throughout the empty common room. It’s only you in here, since Levi has volleyball practise until six this evening, and everyone else has class, work or other plans. Only one person is free at this time, which means it’s Jean who’s here and apparently, not in a very good mood.

Jean doesn’t realise you’re in the room until he enters it, stopping suddenly in the doorway when he sees you cross-legged on the carpet near the coffee table. His eyes are red and swollen, his nose shiny from where he’s been crying and sniffling. The sight makes your stomach churn with an indescribable feeling, and you immediately rise to your feet. There's a bag over his shoulder, as though he was on his way to the gym that's through another door in this room, but that can wait.

“Jean? What’s wrong- did something happen?” you ask him, not stepping forward until you know he’s okay.

Jean's sensitive and sometimes you forget to go easy on him. He sighs loudly and drops his bag to the floor with a thud. He drags his feet across the floor to get to the couch. He moves as if he’s going to sit down and then stops, turning to you. His bottom lip curls like he’s about to cry, and then he opens his arms for a hug. You immediately move forward.

“Oh, Jean,” you coo, stroking his hair and moving to sit on the sofa. Jean comes down with you and you rest his head on top of your breasts, granting him this once in a lifetime opportunity and he doesn’t even register it. He just cries, loudly and comfortably, his arms around you as he sobs. “Oh, my baby. What happened?”

Jean hiccups. “Do-Doesn’t matter. It’s dumb.”

“No, it’s not. Something hurt your feelings, and your feelings aren’t dumb,” you tell him seriously. Stroking the hair out of his face, you peer down at him. “Come on. Tell me, I won’t judge or tell anybody else. You can trust me.”

He sniffs loudly, but you don’t cringe. He blinks, tears falling and he embarrassingly wipes the tears away, nodding. “Okay.” And then the words come out like vomit.

“I just. You know how I liked Emma, right? Cause Mikasa's like my sister, and I stopped liking her a lot when we met Emma and her friends. You know that. Anyway... Well, we were talking- everyone knows we were, but still, we were talking, and I just really liked her and wanted her to like me. I did all this stuff for her, planned all these dates and got her flowers. I thought she liked flowers, girls like flowers. I know we joke that you’re one of the guys, but even you liked those flowers I got for you. So, I got her this pretty necklace with an E on it and was going to give it to her and so I went to her practise room. She does dance, you knew she does dance, right? Yeah. And so I went to the room and was in the room talking to her when the door opens and this guy comes in and he comes up to her and they kiss and I just. She. She told me she didn’t want to rush into dating and that she liked me, and then she suddenly started dating someone else and I’m just really hurt and confused. Did I do something wrong? Am I ugly? Am I annoying, I just…I don’t know what I did. I really liked her.”

You don’t say anything as he talks. You just listen intently, nodding against his head with a low hum and stroking his hair gently.

“I know it’s silly and stupid that I’m crying over a girl, it’s just…” He sighs. “It hurts.”

You sigh, too. “It’s not silly and stupid. What she did was really shitty and it’s natural that it hurt your feelings. You did absolutely nothing wrong, though. The flowers were pretty, and you didn’t force her into anything, and you were so kind and patient. Any girl would be lucky enough to have you as a boyfriend. Emma missed out! You’re so good, Jean, one of the best guys I know. And you’re not ugly! That’s an insult to actual ugly people! If you’re ugly, then what are we?” He laughs shyly and you smile, “Huh? What are we?”

“Okay, sorry,” Jean laughs, pressing his cheek into your torso with a wide smile. His hands loop together behind your back, meek and timid, and he sighs, this time less sadly. “Maybe I’m destined to be alone forever…”

“You’re being dramatic, now,” you sigh. “The right person is waiting for you. Just give it some time.”

Jean thinks about that for a moment. “Wanna date me if I end up alone and single aged thirty?”

Loudly, you let out a laugh. “Yeah right. You know what, fine. Even though I know you won’t be, if we’re both single by thirty, I’ll marry you. How about that?”

Jean hums. “Cool. Is it safe to have kids after thirty?”

You let out a wheeze, taken aback by Jean’s question. “Woah there. I said I’d marry you, not birth your children! Besides, you’re acting like thirty is ancient! Lots of women have kids aged thirty.”

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t know! My Mom was only young.”

“I can’t believe you just asked me to have kids with you when we’re thirty…”

“Might as well make our marriage interesting,” Jean shrugs.

(11) making someone laugh so hard that their whole body shakes

“Ow- stop! I’m going to pee!”

You don’t think you’ve seen Eren laugh at a joke that’s not his own in quite some time. Tonight, across the table in the retro diner that’s been converted and opened in town, he has surprised you. The entire booth shakes with laughter, from all sides and directions. Eren leans up against the window, clutching his side with Mikasa, Armin and Sasha all stuffed next to him on the skinny one seater. Next to you, on either side, is Connie and Jean, with Marco and Bertholdt at the counter ordering more drinks.

“What?” you ask, laughing. You’re not laughing because it’s funny, but more so because you have no idea what it is you did to make him laugh so hard. “What did I say?”

Eren can hardly get his words out, choking halfway on air and having to reach for his drink which shakes in his hand. He sips and gasps for air: “Just-your…face!” Then he cracks up again, like it’s the literal joke of the century. You just don’t get it.

“What did I do?” you ask. “What’s so funny?”

Eren can’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” Mikasa comments, smiling with disbelief and covering her mouth as she laughs. Sasha’s french fries are stone cold as she laughs and leans into Armin’s side for support.

“Fuck. Y/N, you’re so funny, I love you so much,” Eren cries. Cries, literally; there are tears pooling out of his eyes, and he wipes them, sighing loudly as he laughs a few more times.

You’re going to take the compliment happily, and move on. To this day, you never found out what was so funny…

(12) hanging out in furniture stores and testing every couch there is

“Take a picture of me so we can pretend this is our house for Instagram.”

You sigh, taking out your phone and snapping a photo of Connie, lounging his legs apart across a lime green sofa that looks like it’s been hauled out of a 70’s magazine. One of the best things about Connie is that he’s easy to please, and adventurous just like you. Connie could be taken to a junkyard for a first date and somehow he’d still find it fun. He didn’t watch Bottletop Bill and his best friend Corky and leave not taking some inspiration on what to do with scrap junk.

It slowly became a tradition to go to the weirdest places with Connie as your date. On weekends or free weekdays you shared, you’d text Connie and get him to come with you to somewhere new. On today’s list, IKEA. It’s not totally crazy, or weird or wacky, just something you don’t think you’d do with Levi for fun. Connie loved the idea.

Connie’s making it a mission to sit on every bit of furniture he can find. As he takes a ride up the elevator to the first and main starting point of IKEA, he immediately notices the display couches and stares at you excitedly: “Let’s pretend we’re about to buy our dream house and test all the couches.”

Your eyes light up. “Yes! We can pretend we’re on a TV show reviewing them.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Connie more excited. “Oh my God, yes!” Then he grabs your hand, tugging you towards a cream themed living display. “Let’s go, wifey! Time to review.”

(You very nearly leave IKEA with a bright red sofa that looks like it’s been handmade and the bottom pillows are patterned with tiny cherries. Sadly, you’re both broke and you don’t have a car to take it home.)

((Connie’s devastated.))

(13) holding hands while jaywalking so that u Both get hit by a car

“Now!”

A squeal leaves your mouth as Eren grabs a hold of your hand and literally pulls you across the road. A car that speeds down the road presses the horn loud enough to turn a few heads and Eren grins boyishly, raising his hand as if to say sorry even though you’re far enough away to not get hit. Erens motto for jaywalking is We Hold Hands, Because We Go Together Or We Don’t Go Down At All, or something. You know he stole half of it from an All Time Low song, but it works, and the song slaps.

From across the road, on the side you and Eren are running towards, Annie scowls at the both of you .

“You two have a death wish!” she complains.

“But we lived!” Eren replies, raising a gang sign to which Annie pulls a face at.

“I literally cannot stand you,” Annie seethes, walking away even though she’s supposed to be going out for dinner with the both of you. You and Eren share a look that ends in a burst of laughter and run after Annie, capturing each of her arms with your own. She complains all the way to the restaurant, even though she loves it.

(14) randomly buying a flower for someone

“Delivery.”

Reiner’s voice lifts your head. He stands behind the reception desk of your flat complex with a small bunch of flowers in his left hand. If he didn’t already know that you were working your two hour shift today, then he’s lucky he caught you. The sight of a bouquet of wildflowers makes your heart soar curiously.

“For someone special?” you wonder. Maybe he’s delivering to someone in the complex. Reiner’s a softie like that.

Reiner blinks. “Yeah. You.” He holds the bouquet outwards, with a bright smile. “They were for sale outside as I got off my bus. Thought of you. Happy early birthday.”

“My birthday’s in, like, seven months,” you say.

“That’s why it’s for your early birthday,” Reiner replies.

You don’t know what to say. “They’re so pretty, thank you. Hey - can you go up to my flat and put them in a vase? I’ve still got an hour here, they might dry out if they’re kept down here.”

Reiner nods instantly. “Sure. Gimme your key?” You slide the key across the desk towards Reiner and he takes it swiftly. “Cool. Glad you like them. Enjoy your shift, Y/N.”

“Unlikely,” you groan. “Thanks, Reiner!”

He smiles as he reaches the door, sticking his tongue out to you as he prepares to climb the stairs. That elevator needs fixing urgently, and all you can think about is how much you love your friends.

(15) letting ur friends taste ur food and also tasting theirs to the point where u basically ate a fair amount off of each plate on the table

“What do you mean you’ve never tried a rare steak before?” Ymir sighs so loudly that it turns a few heads. “Okay. Take a bite, it’s called charity and I’m generous. Come on.”

Ymir even cuts you a slice and leans over the table to let you taste it. Beside you, Jean cringes when you close your teeth around the fork and pull the steak off, taking several bites and widening your eyes with wonder a Ymir. You have just unlocked a taste sensation!

“Like it?” Ymir asks.

“Mhm! It’s so easy to eat,” you observe. You look at Jean, “try his.”

Ymir sighs. She willingly shares her food out. You glance down at your own meal, a pretty pasta dish that Sasha looks at from next to Ymir.

“What is that? It looks good,” Sasha asks.

“Spaghetti Al Pomodoro,” you quote from the menu. Connie laughs, because who goes to a restaurant and orders spaghetti? “Stop, I don’t know the menu, I played it safe!”

“Lemme try,” Sasha invites herself to try the taste, twirling her fork around the pasta and sucking it up like a scene in Lady and the Tramp. This sets off a sequence around the table, something you can’t help but snigger at. Mikasa lets you try some of her curry and Ymir tries Jean’s burger. By the time everybody on the table has tried everybody else's meals, you finally look back at your plate and notice that literally half of the meal’s now gone. Ymir has about one bite of steak left, and Jean could easily finish his burger in one bite.

“I hope everyone enjoyed my meal,” Ymir says sarcastically, and she angrily chews her last piece of steak.

Connie looks up with a bright smile. “Yeah I did. Thanks!”

(16) “give me that I’ll carry it for u”

Sometimes, Mikasa stops by at the reception to help out, especially during finals or midterms when you could really use those two hours of monitoring an empty email inbox to study. Today, one of the newer residents, Floch, is on the desk and is playing Club Penguin on the computer, and you’re shoved into the back storage room with Mikasa, filing everybody’s mail and parcels.

It’s so messy in here, and looks like it hasn’t had a good clean out since it was first built, which might sound ridiculous, but have you seen all of this dust?

“Can you guys take out the trash?” One of the other workers, Rico, pokes her head into the back room.

“You only just asked us to do this, though,” Mikasa points out.

Rico shrugs, “Okay. And? Get to work.”

She turns and leaves as Mikasa gives her the middle finger, groaning as she arches her back to relieve pain that’s developed from being hunched over for too long. The trash bags are enormous and bulky with weight, shoved into a single room that absolutely honks. Mikasa grimaces as she opens the door and drags some bags out, deliberately ignoring a suspicious juice leaving a trail behind one of the ones she’s just brought into the back room.

“That literally stinks,” you complain.

“Yep.”

While Mikasa continues to haul bags out of the trash room, you take it upon yourself to drag the bags out to the back, towards the giant tip that’s collected by the bin-men the following day. After two or three trips, Mikasa steps out of the room and notices you struggling to pick a big bag up off the floor over your shoulder, like Santa’s sack.

“Give me that, I’ll carry it for you,” Mikasa offers, already stepping forward.

“No!” you protest stubbornly. “I’ve got this.”

“You’re so full of bullshit,” Mikasa howls. She ignores you and snatches the bag out of your hands. You’ll never admit it, but it feels good to not have the twisty material burning your fingers. “Sit down. You’ve worked hard.”

“Don’t patronise me,” you scold.

She giggles, “sorry. Keep filling in those forms, kill two birds with one stone?”

You wait until Mikasa’s out of the room to cradle your fingers. Fucking hell, that hurts.

(17) helping ur friend decide what to wear while also reminding them that they look amazing no matter what

“You’re not going to the Met Gala, Jean. Just wear jeans, my dude.”

“No. No, no, ignore him.” You throw a glare in Eren’s direction and shift on your stomach, watching Jean frantically search through his wardrobe. “This is important. This is serious. He’s going to see a potential employer, Eren”

“Yeah,” Jean taunts, “so go be jobless and broke somewhere else.”

Eren snorts, “I have a job, though…”

“Okay, get out of my room. Y/N, help me.”

“You looked good in the last four outfits,” you say to him honestly. “What’s wrong with this one, hm?”

You stand up, moving to one of the outfits laid out on the floor. It’s a pretty combination of clothes; a patterned white shirt that’s both formal and casual, with black trousers and brown shoes.

“I don’t like the shoes,” Jean mumbles, continuing to search.

“Okay…Why don’t we just…” You crouch, moving a pair of black shoes from outfit number three to outfit number two. Now the shoes are black, and the outfit looks great. “Do that? What do you think?”

Jean looks down at it, biting his bottom lip. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, totally,” you nod with enthusiasm. “It shows your personality whilst also remaining professional. And you looked super handsome in it.” Jean faces you with a shy face, “Trust me. It’s the one.”

It takes some reluctance and convincing, but Jean eventually settles on outfit number two. All it took was some convincing and abuse of his praise kink.

(And he got the job.)

(18) being involved in every bad hair decision (dyeing ur friend’s hair grey in between playing with their switch)

Three games into Mario Kart, you realise that you urgently need to email Nintendo and play I’m-Karen-Let-Me-See-The-Manager. Nintendo Switches are so dangerously addictive that Sasha has you watching her play as grey hair dye bleaches her scalp. You can’t help but watch as she wins race after race, a streak of ten to beat tonight with King Boo as her racer every damn time. You blame Connie for this impulsive hair decision, but at least his was done professionally. Across the room, Historia watches apprehensively, her lit review on her lap as she studies.

“Fuck, your hair!” You must have said that so many times that Sasha’s bound to get sick of it. She glances up at his reflection and eyes the sight on her head.

“Looks fine,” she shrugs.

“Let me remind you that it looks fine because the colour’s okay at the front. It looks kinda…patchy at the back.” You reach for the dye, “We’re low. Sasha, we’re in trouble.”

She shrugs again. “Whatever. We can make a new trend.”

“Hell no. If it looks shit, I’m paying for you to get it done professionally …which, you should have just done in the first place. I’m not a hairdresser!”

“And thank fuck for that!” Connie steps into the living room and laughs nervously. “That looks hideous!”

This time, Sashia’s eyes raise nervously.

“It’s not that bad…” you mutter. “It’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

“The only way to save your hair is to just sacrifice it all,” Jean sighs, following behind Connie with a frown. “You know what, I’ve got a razor in my cupboard downstairs, let’s bring forward bald Sasha.”

“I’ll take the patchy scalp,” Sasha threatens.

“It’s really not that bad,” you pout quietly, attempting to fix the mess at the back of her head.

Okay - you’re lying. It’s awful. It’s a total disaster. But when Sasha gets a good look at it, and she does take a good long look, she just shrugs and puts down the mirror.

“It’s a trend,” she decides. Mario Kart resumes and you’re rendered absolutely speechless.

(19) looking stupid in public together (singing loudly in ur car)

“JUST GO AHEAD AND HATE ON ME AND RUN YOUR MOUTH!”

“So everyone can hear!”

“HIT ME WITH THE WORST YOU GOT AND KNOCK ME DOWN!”

“Oh, baby, I don’t care.”

“KEEP IT UP AND SOON ENOUGH, YOU’LL FIGURE OUT!”

Both of your voices: “You wanna be, you wanna be, A LOSER LIKE ME!”

In the backseat, Annie shrinks further down until her bum is hanging off the chair, in the footwell where her knees are. “Please kill me.”

(20) hugging people when u say hi and goodbye to them

Historia is one of the best friends you could ever ask for. One, she’s friendly. Two, she’s funny. Three, she’s cute. Four, she hugs you when you arrive somewhere and again when you leave, and you absolutely love it.

“Y/N, hi!” Her voice is the first to call out to you when you walk into the Open Day fair at your Uni. You look awful, overslept and still half asleep, but she comes towards you with a smile and engulfs you in a hug. “You look cute. Sleep well?”

That’s not to say the other guys don’t hug you, because they definitely do. But, Historia’s always the first.

(21) being there for someone even if u can’t help them

“Go ahead. Laugh at me like everybody else.”

Mikasa and Sasha are the ones who are unfortunately tasked with dealing with a tragically grieving Y/N. It’s unfortunate to you, but they don’t mind one bit. The last thing they expected to see when they came back to Sasha’s apartment to watch more episodes of Mindhunter on Sasha’s TV, was you curled up on the window seat with red eyes and a runny nose.

“Why would we laugh at you, baby?” Sasha asks, rubbing your back. She’s sat next to you and Mikasa is by your feet, rubbing them and your legs with her soft hands.

You sniff uglily, but none of them say anything. “Cause. Cause it’s just a fish, I guess.”

“It was still your pet,” Mikasa points out sadly. “Susan was a great fish.”

You sniff again, crying some more. “I just feel like a bad owner. Maybe the bowl wasn’t big enough, and maybe I didn’t feed her enough…I don’t want her to have died because of me.”

“Hey, now,” Sasha assures softly, “I’m sure she died peacefully. You were the best fish Mom ever. Susan’s in a better place now.” She glances over at Mikasa nervously, “Like, fish heaven?”

For a moment you don’t say anything, and Sasha thinks maybe that was too much. But then you turn to her with a hopeful expression. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Mikasa adds.

“Mikasa’s still with you in your heart,” Sasha says. She’s not too great at the comforting thing. “You were so good to her. If I was a fish, I’d want you to be my Mom.”

Mikasa looks at Sasha with a deadpan face. Maybe that was too much, but you smiled, and that’s something to her. Even if she doesn’t know what to do to help, the least she can do is be there for you.

(22) “this reminded me of u”

[03:15AM] sasha: hehe [03:15AM] sasha: this reminded me of u ^__^ [03:16AM] sasha: [1 Image Attached]

[03:20AM] y/n: what the...

(23) allowing people to be human, with everything that this entails

University truly has been the best years of your life. There’ve been rough spots financially and mentally, but your key support system has been the circle of friends you’re proud to love and live with. Even when they’re a little bit chaotic, sometimes really annoying and loud and tiring, you still love them, and every quality that comes along with loving them.

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